832 - I Am This Murim’s Crazy B*tch

Even when Qing was grimacing at the slightly off-tasting rice ball. "How can rice go bad in just one day..." It's not a strange occurrence. With the sweltering weather and high humidity, it's an environment perfect for food to spoil rapidly. Moreover, the rice balls from the Central Plains are known to sour quickly. Sticky rice is prone to spoilage if left out, not to mention that the ingredients weren't particularly fresh to begin with. Without refrigerators in Zhongyuan, food remains at room temperature from production to distribution, storage, and sale. Qing chews the musty-smelling rice ball, wrinkling her brow. Throwing it away isn’t an option. It’s still edible, no mold or rot present, just a bit damp. In the past, she had eaten worse. Yet, having indulged in finer things for the past few years, she couldn’t help but find it a bit off-putting. It was then. Suddenly, an unpleasant stench washed over Qing’s nose. A sour and distinctly foul odor, reminiscent of damp, unwashed shoes— Yet, amidst that stench was a faint refreshing fragrance mingling in. Qing's eyes widened. Is that alcohol? Surely it’s the smell of alcohol? Despite being able to drink a whole jar without getting drunk, Qing loved alcohol. Though it seems absurd to pick out the smell of alcohol amidst a foul stench, it was a familiar combination to Qing. Ah, the smell when beggars are drinking. Memories of her beggar days in Geonpyeong resurfaced... It was a time when she wished for a sip to make staying sober bearable. How beggars managed to get alcohol was a mystery, but they drank it often enough. They’d hit me if I spoke, so I couldn’t speak. They’d hit if I got close, so I couldn’t approach. I kept my distance, swallowing my saliva. Sometimes, they’d dump the alcohol in front of me complaining about bad luck if they caught me watching. Once, a happily tipsy beggar offered leftover alcohol only to spill it on the soil instead. So, I quickly gathered the soil, squeezing out the liquid to drink it—ah, that rough cheap liquor's taste is unforgettable... It must have been amusing to see me squeeze and drink from the soil because they'd waste more booze amusingly if I lingered nearby. Hmph. Filthy bastards. bWpnL1VNWWVlR0h2N0IyVWd5ZUJTNjRuS1pHWVRmTExSZ3dwSEtNT3N1UURyN3o3Q1RFZ3BKSVltZ1lHQkJ1dw Qing pushed away her unpleasant memories. Anyway, it wasn’t like beggars would be in the mountains, so it must be herb gatherers, hunters, or beekeepers venturing out. She'd been in the mountain for a whole day, it was about time to reach a town. It was common for mountain roamers to set up a temporary camp for days of exploration. No doubt, they're relieving the toil with the smell of hard-earned liquor... Conveniently, it was perfect timing. Planning to monitor the movements of the Odokmun at Geumpyeong-hyeon, getting acquainted with mountain folks would help her blend in as an outsider herbalist. Qing purposefully rustled as she advanced, making her presence known. It’s only courteous to announce oneself when approaching others. Under the guise of an herbalist, having collected herbs along the way, to share some and maybe get a drink in return seemed... perfect. She gulped down her saliva and pushed through the thicket. And at last, voilà. Instead of mountain folk entering her view, huh. What is this? Their clothes were muddy, soaked through and through, yet they were dressed in what was unmistakably martial attire. What? Why are martial artists in the mountains? They looked like typical members of an unorthodox sect, with scruffy appearances or excessive bad karma that rendered them entirely human misfits. Although one could be disqualified as human due to evil deeds, this lot wasn't suspicious enough nor renowned evil undesirables. “Who goes there!” “Oh, I heard the herbs from Dochasan were particularly effective for a sick child…” Qing tried her herbalist act. With Geumpyeong-hyeon in reach, stirring trouble didn’t fetch her any gains. Yet circumstances like these rarely pass quietly. But rarely doesn't mean never, right? Like that one guy who owed his life to her kindness on Nosan. Wonder how he’s doing? Not quite the evil sort despite his pursuits. Qing feigned a shrunken demeanor. The martial artist scrutinized Qing, then- “What’s this, a mountain woman? Hmm, I see. And yet, fearlessly, she came to Dochasan for herbs anyway.” “Yes, yes?” “Dochasan belongs to our Grand Odokmun. Have we caught a thief daring to pick herbs from Odokmun’s mountain?” Qing hesitated. What did they just say? Our Grand Odokmun? Why here? Odokmun had prime real estate in Geumpyeong-hyeon, but why squat in a mountain, reeking unwashed while drinking? Completely oblivious to Odokmun’s encirclement strategy, Qing found herself in an unexpected predicament. “Senior disciple, spare the talk, abide by the rules. Listen, having climbed Dochasan without the Grand Odokmun’s permission, you must’ve known you'd face death. As you coveted property of this sect, your crime is payable by death.” What nonsense is this? The penalty for picking herbs is death? Who do they think they are, a bloody blood alliance? Hunting grounds under lock? Trespassers executed? Sudden scenes flashed across Qing’s mind. During the encounter at Yeongsan, where Nanah had spotted some poisonous herbs, Odokmun’s name came up. Something about controlling commerce secretly. But killing just over some gathered herbs? That’s crossing a line. Hmph, who the hell are these guys? Qing firmly gripped the Moonlight Sword disguised as a cane. At that moment. "Senior Brother, wait a moment; the child is sick." Oh? Is there a display of humanity, perhaps? Even the one with higher sins among the two shows unexpected compassion? Qing hesitated a little with her judgment. "It's unfortunate, but we can't disregard the school's rules for such trivial reasons. If we let them go out of pity now, others will swarm in with excuses to steal our sect’s resources. Therefore, the rules must be strict and without exceptions." "It's not that, Senior Brother. Haven't you gone hungry for long? The child is sick, and look, both entertainment and merit—what could be better?" "Hmm." "Looking at her hands, she seems to be quite a young woman. Senior Brother, you enjoy first, and please leave her neat. Yes?" "No, let's enjoy it later. Once we descend, I’ll treat you to a proper feast at Gwangraru. We can't break the sect’s rules." Indeed, as expected, they're quite of a kind. One is about to kill for picking herbs in the mountains. The other a perverted fiend suggesting to spare and take advantage, leaving the decision difficult on which one is worse, undeniably an enigma of equal depravity. Qing, too flabbergasted to remember her herbalist act, watched on as the one called Senior slyly reached into his sleeve— Swish! A blade darting toward her throat! However, to a master of the Transformation Realm, it appeared— Slow. Even the thrown dagger. "Gah!" Qing grasped her throat, collapsing. In truth, she caught the dagger between her fingers, pretending it hit her neck. Suddenly, she felt at an impasse. Hmm, how does someone stabbed in the neck behave? Should the body tremble dramatically? While blood doesn’t gush forth until the dagger is pulled, it’s not quite instant death, is it? She wasn’t planning to cause a scene. Her primary goal was Blood Cult reconnaissance, with no intent to prod a hornet’s nest— Unless the reconnaissance results showed overwhelming odds otherwise. Anyway, she hadn’t the inclination to take reckless solo actions, only to retreat if things went awry. This concerned the Blood Cult. Should unexpected complications arise, it wouldn't end as merely her problem. Now, having gone this far. She needed to capture one, figure out what they were doing in this barren forest instead of a proper home. And what dealings they had with the Blood Cult... Qing lay down, trembling slightly. Gag and cough. Making sounds of choking. Since the dagger wasn’t a disposable item, they would come to retrieve it. Finish one quickly and subdue the other. Hmm, preferably, the Senior Brother should come. Usually, someone strict about rules has deep affection for their sect. It’s a bias, but the hormone-driven one would likely be the babbler. But is that how things are unfolding? "Ahem. Senior Brother, let me take care of the body. The stench of decay nearby—how could we endure?” “It's rare for you to step up. Wait, you're not planning to do that with the corpse, are you?” “Oh, Senior Brother. Before it cools down, it’s the same. Let me quickly finish up and bury it." “...Alright. Just don’t linger long.” What’s there to finish? Seriously. Qing was appalled. Depraved doesn’t begin to describe this bottom-dwelling rat. She counted distances from her position. Four steps, three steps, two steps. And now! Qing sprang to her feet. The Moonlight Sword shot into the sky. The fabric-shrouded blade shot between the man’s legs, cutting through both cloth and into his flesh and bone before soaring skyward. The eyes of the remaining Odokmun's Senior Brother bulged. The spectacle, as if stars flashing, as the halves of his split Junior Brother collapsed on either side. In shock from that unbelievable sight, time stood still. Boom! Felt like earth shook beneath his feet, something swiftly pressed. His breath choked abruptly. Mind blank with chaos, in the brink of turning stark white. “Ah, you dropped a dagger, didn’t you? Here, I found it for you. You should be grateful.” A biting sarcasm accompanied by searing pain shooting up from his shoulder! Odokmun's right arm hung limp. Having slowly lodged the thrown dagger into bone, severing nerves. “Grr.” “What kind of treasures are hidden in these mountains that you'd attempt murder over a woman gathering herbs to aid a sick child? Even mountain bandits try to extort money first without tossing blades. Aren't you worse than a rampant thief?” “Grr…” “I, The Supreme Heroic Rogue who eats rice only at home, Eom Mireum Summer—Ah, I’m Eom Mireum, the one who won’t forgive!” Though Qing mismatched the name, something akin to Eom Mireum is indistinguishable anyway. Comprehension is mutual; hearing the name, the eyes of Odokmun's widened in realization. “Ah, yet I, Eom Mireum, do not recklessly kill without inquiry like you scoundrels.” Though the bisected junior disciple might argue its absurdity if he could. But the dead do not hear. “If you answer my questions truthfully, no more blood will be spilt. Understood? Shout, and your neck may suffer. Now breathe for a moment.” Qing lowered her grip slightly, allowing air in. “Ha, huff, hic, huff.” Only then did the remaining Odokmun disciple gulp the air with laborious gasps. Then, spitting venomous glares, words squeezed through. “You, Heavenly(天) Sword(華), even eating can’t cool—” Qing tightened her chokehold urgently. **Terms Explanation:** 1. 월광검 - Moonlight Sword 2. 광라루 - Gwangraru (name for a restaurant or inn) - Translated as it is common to leave proper names in romanization. 3. 도채산 - Dochasan - Translated as it is a proper name. 4. 오독문 - Odokmun - An organization name, left in romanization because fictional sects are typically left untranslated. 5. 임신성 (origin not given) - Though not directly used, the reference to 'moon' and 'sword' signifies heavenly element and swordsmanship from context. **Notes:** The translation captures Qing's adventurous spirit and odd humor when confronting the sect members. The darker themes are translated to retain the narrative's tension and convey the character's motivation. The protagonist showcases both humor and deadliness in her approach, evident in her interaction with the sect members. Simultaneously, those large eyes trembled, unable to mask the expression of utter bewilderment. What’s this? Heavenly Sword Flower? How do they know? **Terms Explanation:** 1. 천화검(天華劍) - Heavenly Sword Flower - Based on the context, an actual reference to Qing's title or associated technique being recognized. Introducing "Flower" aligns with typical wuxia conventions where flowers symbolize both beauty and deadly prowess.