824 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

Qing wore a truly satisfied expression. It was the expression of a villain who had finally realized that his fate was doomed. Yes, this is slaughter. Indeed. It's not about some grandiose notion of justice or working for the benefit of the world. When you see murderers or swindlers living well, patting their full bellies, doesn't it make your blood boil? Even if you could kill them a thousand times over in your mind, wouldn't you smile and feel refreshed if you heard news that those villains met their miserable end? But what would it feel like to personally, with your own hands, bring them down? It's really something great, truly the best, but words just fail to describe it... Always grateful, Zhongyuan. In a world where personal retribution is revered as the righteousness of a noble, and the whole populace praises and adores it, calling them a hero. That's truly fortunate, no, it's the best. With a peculiarly excited voice, Qing spoke. "Guys, lift." Following her command, San and Zhuge Leehyun, who were holding down the villain at the station, lifted his arms simultaneously. It was clear they'd exceeded the limits of the shoulder joints. With a tearing sound, sinews snapped, and the arms dropped limp from the shoulders. "Aargh!! Ahhhh…" "Oh wow, Master Jeong, your shoulders have broadened! They looked so pitifully narrow, so I made them wider for you. You'll thank me forever." Now, with a dislocated shoulder, they were indeed much wider than before, albeit not in a balanced way. "Ugh, I'll kill you, kill all of you! You bastards, I'll kill every one of you!" His forehead was veined and bulging, a sign of extreme pain. For those who've had dislocated shoulders, you know it hurts like hell. "You, you damned bastards, I'll kill all of you, I'll kill you all, argh, do you know who I am, I'll kill you, huff..." Contrary to the gentlemanly demeanor he had displayed, now he was hurling a constant stream of curses. But insults from an enemy are praise to my ears. It's as if they're admitting they made my mood terribly wretched. "Yeah, yeah. Wow, I'm so scared. But what can you do? Can sheer determination alone kill someone? Wow! Sword Intent!" "Aaaryaagghh!!!" "What is it? Are you angry now? But, Master Jeong, this isn't the time to be angry, and you're cursing, you've hurt my feelings." Qing laughed slyly and once more stepped into the office. "You've hurt my feelings so much that I tend to become terribly cruel when I'm hurt. Oh, it hurts. If I rip out that wicked tongue of yours, I might feel better." It was then that Master Jeong's face turned pale. "W-wait…!" "But before that, hey." Qing swiftly extended her index finger. Her slender fingers reached through the single remaining pupil. The scream burst forth. With my weapon being an extension of my body, as I thrust it into the enemy, the physical consequences are directly transmitted. The trembling, loosening, and tightening of the muscles, the contraction of the bones, the movement of the tendons, stiffening, and, conversely, flapping vigorously like a fish caught on the line. All these signs of pain are like molten lava blazing and spreading an uncontrollable tremor throughout my entire body. Yet I don't show it outwardly. Physical control is the basic literacy of any martial artist, and it's embarrassing to display such things to others. "Aaaaargh!!" But there was no escape for Master Jeong, pinned beneath the two warriors. Just unable to see anything, he could only scream in response to the overwhelming fear rising against the blind world he was thrust into in an instant. In front of that, Qing spread her arms wide. Then clapped loudly, smack! Including the villain's head in between. For a moment, the only sound that registered to Master Jeong was an overwhelming tinnitus, a piercing, resounding clamor. Thus, the brutal scream that flowed from his mouth, once that of a villain who created countless pestilential patients and manufactured this poison by killing their families, now sounded rough and mournful, like a beast's wail. Bright red blood trickled down in zigzag patterns from Master Jeong's ears. "Ahh! Ahh! Urgh! Ohh! Ahhh!" As he screamed with his mouth wide open, strong hands grasped forcefully, preventing him from closing it. Blinded and deafened, every sensation that touched him was pure terror; his reason had long since flown away. In his uncontrolled chomping, as he bit his cheeks, gleaming red blood dripped down the gleaming white teeth instantly. Qing thrust a finger in front of the last survivor of the Blood Sect's mouth. Spreading her index and middle fingers, she grasped the root of his tongue and pulled, squeezing tightly, "This tongue is mine now." Qing nonchalantly tossed the tongue she'd nabbed onto the office floor. After all, its value lay in being part of an enemy's body. Once detached, it was nothing more than unusable waste. "Nanhah, hand me the hemostatic powder. It'd be a waste for him to die easily just by bleeding out." "Huh? Name." "He can't hear anymore, can he?" Master Jeong had now lost three of his senses. Sight, hearing, taste. Touch could be eliminated by flaying him, but then he'd die quickly, and as for smell, there's no way to erase that? Wait, was it sight, hearing, taste, smell, and touch for the five senses? Then, what's pain sense? The sixth sense? Isn't the sixth sense a superpower…? A moment of irrelevant knowledge from back home surfaced, but Qing knew she could never find the answer again. Unless a sudden thought came to her one day when trying to sleep, there was no way to force it now. "Oh, that's right? Ah, how maddeningly frustrating. Here, Qinga. This." Sprinkling powder carefully into the mouth, realize that a mute, a blind person, and a deaf person make for a complete reunion! And then, a shattering crunch. --- **Terms Translated:** 1. 정류장(정가장주) - Master Jeong, referring to the person whose shoulders were being dislocated. Given the context, translated to "Master Jeong." 2. 사적제재 - Personal retribution, meaning private vengeance or acts taken into one's own hands. 3. 장부의 의기 - Noble's righteousness or valor, referring to an honorable code or spirit of a gentleman. 4. 삼합 - Reunion, in this context, referring to a combination or convergence of conditions. These translations capture the connotations and cultural context important in martial arts narratives, with some creative liberties to convey tone and meaning. San and Zhuge Leehyun twisted the arm they were holding halfway before letting go. Normally, these two would have been the ones to show a hesitant expression at Qing's brutal ways, or perhaps they would have advised against taking things too far. But the actions of the cult had deeply enraged them. After all, this villain had spread disease, created countless patients, and massacred the innocent who sought medicine to save their families. Instead, they wore expressions that conveyed a sense of cleansing relief. "Where close ink makes black." (근묵자흑近墨者黑) As the saying goes, if you associate with ink, you'll get stained black. This is why the elders advise to choose your friends wisely. --- When the Blood Cult warriors from Master Jeong's estate arrived quickly on the scene, they witnessed the entrance of a mine spewing thick black smoke. If they had come to stop a catastrophe, only to find the mine itself enveloped in flames? They could do nothing but stare blankly. The situation was dire, and faced with the blazing mine, they were at a loss as to what to do. "L-Leader, the mine…!" The man, referred to as the leader, snapped back into focus. "These bastards aren't guarding the mine, but setting it on fire, when Lord Dokma gave special orders to keep it protected! We must block the entrance immediately! You, fill sandbags with three others and pack them tight. The rest of you, gather stones, quickly!" When a coal mine catches fire, there is but one way to extinguish it. Piling stones and soil to tightly block the entrance, the people of Zhongyuan in this era may not have known the exact principles, but they understood that if air couldn't get in, the fire would die out. Had Qing seen this, she would have scoffed at their futile attempts and concerns about the fire. The miners gathered before the entrance were motivated not by the welfare of their fellow comrades, but by the special orders of Lord Dokma. This was no ordinary place, but a poison manufacturing site. What they truly feared was the repercussions from Dokma, rather than losing the plant itself. Thus, the warriors hurriedly took up shovels and sandbags to begin their frantic efforts. When one masters martial arts, even mundane tasks become easier. With greater strength for digging, a flexible body capable of quick, large movements, and the ability to hold their breath even when approaching the smoke-filled mine entrance. They were indeed the perfect workers; had Qing's homeland's quartermasters seen them, they would have marveled at such rare talents. Gradually, obstacles began to pile at the mine entrance, and reinforcements who arrived later joined in, accelerating the process. Meanwhile, just inside the mine entrance. A suspicious bag lay on the ground for anyone to see, a thin string extending from it deep into the interior. Following the string deeper, they would find? Beneath the acrid smoke, a small flame was slowly burning its way along the long string, heading outward. The tiny flame crept forward, consuming the string until it finally plunged into the pouch. With a bang, accompanied by the sound of an explosion, the flame burst forth, spreading significantly. Smoke billowed from the bag, seeping into the black smoke of the mine. One of the Blood Cult warriors stacking sandbags started coughing violently. "Ahh, cough! Hrrk, why is it so pungent…" "Don't breathe the smoke, retreat!" "Ugh! Cough! Gag! Hrrk, oh no, urgh." But having already inhaled the smoke, the warrior staggered and eventually succumbed, endlessly coughing before collapsing. Another Blood Cult warrior clicked his tongue and grabbed his fallen comrade by the armpits, dragging him outside the veil of smoke. "What's happening over there?" "It seems he inhaled too much smoke." "Tch. It's a disgrace at this critical time. Let him drink some water and lay him down. To think a warrior can't even manage his own breath (breathing)." The leader clicked his tongue in disapproval- "What's wrong with him now?" "What? Oh." Seeing the foam bubbling at his comrade's mouth, the Blood Cult warrior paled and stepped back in shock. And at that moment— The warriors blocking the mine entrance began to stagger and collapse one by one. "Damn, what are you standing around for! Get the young ones out first!" The leader hurriedly rushed in, desperately pulling out warriors by their arms. But each one foamed at the mouth, eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. Faced with this, the leader's face turned pale. Classic signs of poisoning. Could it be, that the fire in the poison factory mixed with the toxic smoke— "There's poison in the smoke! Everyone retreat, fall back! Cover your mouths and noses!" The leader made the best decision he could. With the toxic smoke emanating from the poison manufacturing plant, their objective already failed. Rather than incur needless sacrifices, it would be better to allow the mine to collapse on its own. Although Dokma's wrath was terrifying, a fire in an underground poison factory implied that the Blood Potion Poison Master's own lapdog of the Cult might have mishandled things. In reality, though, there were operators of the factory still alive and kicking, it was just that Tang Nanah had installed contingency poisons. Should the fire be controlled sooner than expected, she mixed in the toxins to delay extinguishing efforts. This particular toxin was mild and meant to have slow effects, actually being a type that one could recover from with some fresh air and rest. From the perspective of the ignorant Blood Cult members, it was an inevitable predicament. Thus, the mine spewed thick, dark smoke heavily billowing outwards. Finally, a resounding rumble—! Kugoong...! A dull thud felt more through the soles of one's feet than heard echoed. The inner tunnel collapsed. Positioned atop a metal plate covering the vertical passage to the poison manufacturing plant, thousands of pounds of coal-laden soil and boulders came crashing down. --- **Terms Translated:** 1. 혈수단 독제사 - Blood Potion Poison Master, a figure associated with the poison manufacturing within the cult. The translation gives a clear depiction of their position. 2. 매탄 - coal, involved in the composition of materials in the mine-turned-disaster site. These were translated to maintain the integrity of martial arts storytelling, keeping the traditional roles and elements in the narrative vivid and relatable to martial arts lore while allowing for detailed descriptions to support reader immersion.