804 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

For a martial artist, what does the danjeon symbolize? Every martial artist in the world would say this: They would rather die as a martial artist than live as a wretched commoner who has lost their danjeon. "This, this is wicked, just kill me!" "Oh, really? Well then, that's convenient for me. Now, if you want to die, stand to the right, those who want to live, to the left. I'll count to ten. One! Two—" At that moment. "Stop!" A firm voice interrupted Qing's counting. When Qing looked, a man in remarkably fine clothes, likely of high status, stood there. Qing didn't know, and frankly didn’t care, but this man was the chief of Jang Yun's faction. Seeing the determined look on the middle-aged man's face, Qing nodded. "Ah, so, as a martial artist, you can't simply give up without a fight, huh? Then—" "No, no, that’s not it. You have to tell us which side you mean by 'left.' Is it to the left as you see it, or to the left of us as we're facing you?" While every martial artist would say they wouldn't give up their danjeon without a fight, in truth, it's easy to boast about such things when you're not actually going to die. When faced with such decisions, those truly ready to die are exceedingly rare. It’s a simple truth. Back in Qing's hometown, if someone asked publicly if they would give up their dreams for ten billion gold pieces, ninety-nine out of a hundred would say they wouldn't give up their dreams for just ten billion. After all, they're not actually going to be given ten billion gold. Anyone who answered truthfully could be labeled as someone who sells their dreams for money. Who would refuse if someone really offered them ten billion gold? "Oh. Then those who want to live, stand to my left, which is to your right, I guess?” "I see. Ahem, that should be clarified indeed..." The chief was the first to head to the right. His disciples hesitated briefly but then also moved to follow him en masse. Cho Sam-il was taken aback. What on earth was this atmosphere? If only the entire faction united and charged, he might escape in the chaos. The situation was laughably absurd, and the tension in the air had dissipated entirely. Even if he tried to rally them to fight now, who would dare draw their swords? "What about you, leader? Are you going to remain neutral? Or do you want to be half-dead? Split in half?" "Uh, no matter what, I can't give up my danjeon. And compared to our crimes, you see, the crime of insolence is—" "Oh, that's obvious, hmm. Yes, you'll probably understand soon." Whatever that meant, it certainly implied their danjeons would be shattered, and they'd be crippled. Cho Sam-il knelt to the ground. "Please, great hero, I have committed a grave sin. If you forgive me just this once, I promise to turn over a new leaf, helping those in need for the rest of my life—" "Oh, and whose name are you going to swear by this time? You've already sold out your own parents. When you sell out your parents, is there any more reliable guarantor?" "Just this once, ah." Cho Sam-il understood. The reason insolence was deemed the larger crime, and why all parents and mentors in Zhongyuan emphasized honesty. “What, what kind of law is this! What wrong have we done!” Then, suddenly enraged, Cho Sam-il shouted out in anger. “Oh, now are you going to claim false accusations?” “This is the territory of Jang Yun's faction! What wrong is there in a faction protecting its area and collecting protection fees! Aren’t you Upright Faction folks the same? You hypocrites! How dare you accuse us when you're no different!" "But you didn’t offer any protection. You collect fees for doing nothing?" "Then are we supposed to starve and die? There’s no law that says we should just starve to death! We were just trying to survive!" A small sect like theirs wouldn't have much stockpiled in reserve. With the area sealed, they couldn’t move in or out, and there were so many mouths to feed. Robbing the sick of their grain, especially relief grain, was indeed a miserable and disgraceful act, and it wounded their pride immensely. But should they starve instead? When survival is at stake, even children might have to be sacrificed, and the nation doesn't punish such desperate actions. "If we pity the sick, should we just sit back and suck on our fingers? What should we have done! We didn’t take everything! We left enough for them to survive!" Cho Sam-il roared in frustration. But Qing's voice was nothing but cold. "Then you should have assisted Elder Rangjungdae. You should have helped care for the sick. Since the Elder pleaded for your lives, I am providing mercy by only destroying your danjeons and cutting the tendons in your legs to keep you alive. Would the Elder have really told you to go hungry?” “Well—” “The Elder put aside his pride to arrange that relief grain you leached off like parasites; he drowned his dignity for the sake of feeding the sick, despite having no ties with them, meanwhile, you self-proclaimed masters of this area couldn’t even uphold your responsibilities—no, damn it,” As he finished speaking, Qing’s fury simmered. “Damn, just thinking about it makes me angry. Preserving vermin like you would only waste food; maybe killing you all and getting scolded by the Elder would be—” A chilling mutter escaped him. Cho Sam-il discreetly shuffled rightward, toward the suddenly overcrowded front courtyard’s right side. “What’s this, why are you all gathered on the left? I said I’d shatter your danjeon. You won’t even be able to use one leg. Is that how you’ll end your martial lives? Hey, what’s the use of living shamefully? Let’s die gloriously.” “No, thanks!” Qing clicked his tongue and sheathed the Moonlight Sword. Thinking back, he wondered if killing at least one leader might not have been such a bad idea. Maybe next time, he would just slice them down in a faux rage. Or perhaps it wasn’t too late? Regret lingered, maybe sparing a single person or two wasn’t worth it? "Have you no pride as a martial artist? Better die as a warrior than live as a cripple! Come on, I'll give you three moves, no, five!" “……” Instead, the martial artists of Jang Yun's faction quietly averted their gaze. Even with his moonlight sword swinging, their response was lukewarm. If Jang Yun's group had belonged to the so-called Upright Faction, they might have fallen for such provocation. But they were part of the Unorthodox Faction. And with their unorthodox mindset, they quickly understood Qing's intention. He's out to make an example of one of them. "What? No one stepping forward? Fine, I'll give you ten, no, twenty moves ahead. Still no takers?" “……” "Click, why isn't anyone biting..." Qing muttered softly, but even in a situation where everyone was watching each other in silence, his clear voice managed to pierce their ears like a spell. See? He’s definitely going to use someone as an example. The Jang Yun disciples let out a relieved sigh—it was exactly at that moment. "Fine, just come out one by one. If you try anything funny, I won't just crush your danjeon; your guts might be spilled, got it?" enN1WnIzcFhHMVJuR0JvdkNPc013OWI1RDczWG9nTzhlaEFYRHVMQVIxNlJLZ3QrQXNaN3c1WWVKallFRXFSRg ---- Breaking a danjeon is its own kind of fun. The sensation of a formless band disappearing isn’t quite like tearing flesh or rupturing organs, but— The expressions that appear when a danjeon crumbles are uniquely satisfying. The time these unorthodox gangsters invested, their lives, even if worthless, all vanish in an instant along with all their accumulated effort. And in the moment when they realize that all the hopes and possibilities of their dreamt future are lost, the emptiness, the dull eyes lacking luster, the deep, black despair— Yes, immediate carnage can provide fleeting amusement. But these expressions, they thrill like currents running down the spine. Honestly, I'd love to crush their danjeon thoroughly— If I allowed their innate energy to seep continuously and injured their meridians, they'd eventually weaken and die in misery. But, heh, they're in luck now. Even these wretches will probably be saved by Elder Rangjungdae when they collapse from illness. The elder is already busy enough, and I can’t burden him with looking after such pests. And besides, how long would they live anyway? Men of the Unorthodox Faction, haunted by grudges, are always surrounded by enemies. A lame fallen villain would face the consequences of their past misdeeds soon enough. Even without that, the fact remains— These who only know how to rob by force, can they change their behavior now that they’re crippled? In Zhongyuan, unlike Qing's homeland, a culture where the weak are stabbed for acting out has not developed. A land where acting like a jerk gets you stabbed—oh, that's great. If only it were like that on both sides, it would have been a much more beautiful and humane society. In any event, Qing was somewhat disappointed, yet still satisfied. Or perhaps, he had been satisfied. "Elder, it's all resolved." “Are you hurt anywhere?” “Oh, against those weaklings, no chance. Calling them even weak is too kind.” Qing seemed somewhat relieved. Elder Rangjungdae took a deep breath, then rose from his seat. "Uh, where are you going?" "With your temper, those guys won’t be safe left alone. Can't let anyone die, can I?" "Uh. You don’t have to go. No one’s dead, and they’ll be able to walk after half a day of pain, at most." Elder Rangjungdae paused, questioning. "Child, could you be… an exceptional master?" “Of course I am. An exceptional master.” “Do people typically boast about that themselves?” “Well, it’s true. Anywhere I go, I'm either the second or third strongest in any city. I can handle these scattered unorthodox types alone. Oh, and these are somewhat high-level fighters. Not exactly masters, but somewhere between intermediate and advanced. Mid-advanced?” Elder Rangjungdae had little interest in the martial world. He merely thought Qing’s broadness of spirit and benevolence must stem from being of some renowned family or sect; her softhearted nature notwithstanding, her skills were quite pronounced, roaming around as she does. To be told she ranks second or third in strength wherever she goes, extending beyond the top ten to even her toes, it suggested— If it's a fact, she isn't someone who would lie or have a reason to fabricate the truth. "Why does such a skilled person do carpentry, or what compels you to tend to patients’ abscesses and brew decoctions?" “Carpentry because of the turbulence which left me with nothing better to do, but it turned out to be rather fun. As for tending patients, elder, you instructed me to.” “Hmm.” Would such a master typically follow orders then? With nothing else to do, she assists in the reconstruction of a swept-away city? "I assumed your backing was significant, so you could leverage it, clearing corpses and tending serious patients." Elder Rangjungdae’s insistence on not taking lives was a request to restrain violence, but not to the extent of restraining killing in a dangerous situation involving the young volunteers. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner….” Qing felt wronged. He should have been clearly informed—with missed opportunity for glorious slaughter! "Oh well, anyway, you did well. We’re short on hands, but they should still be able to move around, right?" "Intend to put them to work? Well, as short as we are on help, they aren't ones to care for patients." "Well. Of course not entrusting those ignorant of medicine with patients. There’s plenty of physical labor to go around: cleaning latrines, helping immobile patients, cleaning up." They’ve only lost their danjeon and become lame. Jang Yun’s martial arts largely rely on physical strength, so as newly reborn limping strong servants, they’ll still be quite useful. So yes, plan to make diligent use of them. “Then, if any of them refuse to listen, just let me know. I'll set an example with a few, and they'll comply. Should I?” "Let's see how they fare." However, Elder Rangjungdae's inevitable plan to recycle these beasts hit a snag even before Qing could effectively "encourage" them to comply. Most of the Jang Yun martial artists suddenly fell ill with symptoms of a strange disease, groaning and laid up.