822 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

Qing passed through the rounded corridor of the manor's wall. And she locked eyes with Jung Ryujang. Of course, given the heavy, distinctive sound of the temple bell drawing near — who wouldn’t be curious enough to step outside if they had functioning ears? Anyone unfamiliar with the legendary prowess of Buddha's Divine Palm would miss the looming danger. Not recognizing the peril approaching her, she looked as if to say, "Why are you here?" And this is precisely why knowledge is power, supporting the endless nagging of the sages who preached the importance of learning for survival. "You, how did you, instead of going to the Hidden Art Sect-" "No, isn't this hospitality atrocious? Whether they are welcome or not, when a guest arrives, shouldn't you at least have a servant receive them and offer tea and refreshments? Isn't that right, Master Jung? Are you unaware of such basic manners?" Surprisingly, Qing's words made complete sense. Hospitality doesn't discriminate against guests, and the proper etiquette is to treat even unwelcome visitors courteously before addressing any issues. And in fact, this kind of straightforward, correct sentiment is often the most infuriating. Especially when the complaint about poor hospitality comes from the lips of an obvious uninvited guest. Veins bulged on Jung Ryujang's forehead. Seeing this, Qing nonchalantly joked. "So, what's all this commotion? Smoke billowing since morning, it looks as if there's a fire and the manor gates are left open. Might there be that anthracite mine over there?" "It must be just a forest fire. We've always been well-prepared, with workers and staff fully engaged, so please understand the slight disorganization." "Oh, so your guest-reception was a complete mess due to that. Well, with my generous heart, I'll understand. You should be grateful." "No, seriously-" "Oh, starving here since I've been up all night and missed breakfast. Bring out a hearty breakfast." "No." "To everyone who worked overnight, thank you for your hard work. We should just sit down and rest wherever we see fit since no one’s guiding us to the reception. That spot looks perfect." Jung Ryujang was at a loss for words, unable to muster anything beyond a series of stuttering sounds. Ignoring him, Qing boldly strode into the manor's study. She promptly took the seat of honor, casually placing her feet upon the desk. Qing's antics weren't limited to just this occasion. Moreover, those accompanying her understood her seemingly disrespectful behavior had valid reasons. Following Qing, they each found a suitable place for themselves. Tang Nanah picked up a chair with a thud, placing it right next to Qing, and sat down, naturally linking her arm with Qing's. Seo Lily smoothly approached and squeezed in beside Qing. Typically, in the Central Plains, the seat of honor can just fit a woman beside you, slightly narrow. Thus, it was often a space claimed by a mistress or a young child or grandchild. "Hey! What are you doing? Why are you squeezing in there when there are plenty of other spots? What an audacious woman!" "Sit down. No seats are available. Yes." As always, it was Seo Lily's style. What are you doing? I'm sitting. Why push your way in? There are no seats. What a cheeky woman! Yes, indeed, I am. "Why is there no other spot? Do your eyes not work? Are those not chairs, or are they decorations?" "Yes. Yes. Yes." Why is there no other spot? There isn’t. Do your eyes not work? They do. What will you do about it? Are those chairs decorations? Yes, they are decorations. Veins throbbed on Tang Nanah's forehead. It was a familiar Seo Lily manner of speech, yet it seemed increasingly designed to irritate. Using honorifics during their playful disputes was part of it. Tang Nanah sprang up and tugged at Seo Lily's arm. “Ugh, aren’t you coming out? Why are you so heavy...!” Unlike the struggling Tang Nanah, Seo Lily remained unperturbed. And then, she casually tossed a smug remark. “I am a master.” “Argh! I can’t stand you!” “Neither can I.” Tang Nanah trembled, then skillfully reached into her characteristic, flowing sleeves of the Tang Clan symbol, unfolding her renowned hidden pocket technique, the Gold Leaf Hand. Seeing this, Qing marveled quietly. Though Nanah was the lowest of martial practitioners, her nimble hands were quite skillful. Yet, it was all too crude a trick in front of Qing, who had mastered the art of pickpocketing with her extraordinary Invisible Divine Hand Technique, unmatched in sleight of hand. “Oh dear. That's unacceptable. Among friends, you should never use three things: knives, poison, or financial guarantees. I said it repeatedly, didn't I?” “But, she’s…” “Shh.” “Why is this happening? She keeps clinging to you, but I was friends with you first. It shouldn’t be like this. How…” Tang Nanah's voice was full of pitiful grievance. Qing let out a deep sigh. "You're not a child. Now, come here." Instantly brightening up, Tang Nanah quickly nestled into Qing's arms. Jung Ryujang’s expression was one of utter disbelief, mouth hanging open. What madness this was! Without permission, these guests barged into the head of the manor's study, seized the seat of honor, placed their feet brazenly on the table, and gathered women by their sides. Of course, women hugging and clinging together wasn't an unusual sight. Yet, Jung Ryujang's mouth opened and closed in disbelief. The group pretended he was invisible. "Oh my, Sister. Do you see this brush?" "Oh? Is it good? If it's valuable, quietly take it." "No, Sister. Although it looks fancy, it's fake, made of mediocre fur. Only someone utterly lacking in taste would purchase and use such a dreadful brush. It's nothing but trash." Zhuge Leehyun clenched his fist hard. The tendons in his large hand bulged, cracking as if demonstrating a magic trick that transformed the brush back into merely a brush. He tossed it aside carelessly, leaving the shattered remains at Jung Ryujang's feet. Qing couldn't help but feel a bit impressed. Oh, Zhuge's got some skills indeed. After all, the clever ones always excel at mind games. “You, you...! What the...!” Jung Ryujang's body trembled. His clenched fists shook as well, as if he might just throw a punch. Qing, seemingly to calm the shivering manor master, spoke in her exquisite, melodic voice. "Hey, Master Jung. But isn't breakfast ready yet? I'm craving Kung Po Chicken this morning. Catch a chicken for each of us, and bring a jug of wine! Guys, what will you have? I'll take glutinous rice." "I'll have porridge." "Oh, I'll go with a pancake. Stuffed with japchae." "Sister, I rather fancy Yunnan rice noodles." At this point, four pairs of eyes turned towards another. "......" There was a moment of silence before a short response came. "...Wonton soup." As they say in Qing's hometown, in the land of the blind, the one-eyed is even considered handicapped. Peng Daesan ground his teeth, as if crushing his eternal enemy, the dumplings, with his very jaws, before reluctantly responding. “Well, you’ve heard it, Master. Hurry up, we're hungry.” Fury raged within Jung Ryujang. The guests hadn't shown a bit of reverence towards their host from the start, treating him more like a servant now. Moreover, with orders for glutinous rice, porridge, pancakes, rice noodles, and wonton soup? How was he to prepare such diverse meals for five different people who were receiving free meals? But he restrained himself. Think of the greater plan. Think of the greater plan. Getting into unnecessary conflicts wasn't wise, especially if that Tang girl got involved, complicating the strategy even more. The reason the Venomous Healer discreetly handled matters with “Ambush from Ten Directions” was to ensure no traces were left for the Central Plains to follow. So, keeping things smooth and peaceful was necessary... “Well, dear guests, I understand you’re tired and famished, but many of our folks are away, making things challenging at the moment. Rest assured, we will do our best to accommodate you.” Hungry people may act rudely, but we'll feed you, so just accept what we give. In fact, such restraint from Jung Ryujang would earn accolades for being a magnificent nobleman. If Buddha witnessed this, he might have smiled, acknowledging it as the heart of the Buddha. Confucius would have praised him, saying that responding to rudeness with virtue shows the way of the noble. Yet, neither Buddha nor Confucius was present here; it was Ximen Qing. "Wow, Master, are you a eunuch?” “Pardon?” "I mean, what kind of a man can be this submissive unless he has no balls? No guts either? Even with this much provocation, you can't say a single unpleasant word?" Jung Ryujang blinked in disbelief, struggling to process the direct insult thrown in his face. But only for a moment. “There’s no need to respond to rudeness in kind. Wouldn't returning incivility with incivility only breed mutual hatred?” "Think about it. Isn’t going this far suspicious in itself? It’s almost as if you're hiding something." Qing squinted and continued. “Like you've got something to hide. Right?” Jung Ryujang swallowed nervously. “By demonstrating virtue and leading with example, others will naturally feel ashamed and correct themselves, as Confucius stated.” "Oh. Confucius, right. But..." Qing lowered her feet and leaned onto the table, resting both elbows. But with Tang Nanah atop, she ended up awkwardly adjusting her posture once more. “Concealing a popular remedy for a spreading epidemic for personal gain, hiring swindlers to kidnap people for labor... and then you talk of virtue? That’s suspicious as hell.” “That was merely to gather workers for the mine, as I explained, and they were compensated fairly…” Qing made a listening gesture, signaling with her eyes. Suddenly, there was the crunching sound of wooden floorboards breaking. Two men leaped at Jung Ryujang, grabbing and twisting his arms, kicking his ankles, forcing his head to the ground. “Argh... guh…” Qing gently set Tang Nanah down and walked deliberately, making sure her footsteps echoed as she approached. She crouched beside Jung Ryujang's head with an irreverent demeanor. "You know, I’m the one who set the mine on fire. Surprise." “What, what?” "There underground—ugh, I’m finding this troubling. All those Blood Cult members who set up camp in front of the mine? I left them buried alive. But I didn’t kill them. Thanks to those night pearls down there, they can see, there's air, water, and even enough food, right?" "What are you saying...?" “Your Blood Cult’s main diet is humans, right? They'll eat the corpses of the poor people from the Central Plains, then maybe draw lots, or start with the weakest. One by one, eating each other… Oh, eating each other? Isn’t that exactly what your Blood Cult people do anyway?” Her voice was laced with chilling malice. Jung Ryujang, who had been as tense as a bowstring from rage, finally slumped, head thudding against the floor.