Chapter 331: Grace Is Easy to Forget, but Grudges Are Hard to Let Go (7)

“Ugh, what a bunch of worthless shits.”

Qing brushed off her hands.

But the remains of greasy flesh only clung more stubbornly to her palms, making them even filthier.

She frowned and glanced around. Wait, why the hell are all these bastards walking around with their shirts completely off?

Resigned, she looked for the cleanest pair of pants she could find that wasn’t soaked in blood and tore a strip off to wipe her hands.

The makeshift towel was utterly soaked—whether with sweat or something else was anyone’s guess.

Her hands were still sticky with blood and grease, and though she scrubbed at them, it was questionable whether she could call this clean.

Ugh. Gross.

Qing kicked aside a few of the corpses littered around her feet with a casual thump-thump.

Her eyes lit up as she spotted something hanging from a waist belt—a waterskin.

There we go.

With unusual concern for cleanliness, she popped open the cap and poured it over her hands—

—but shit. The smell of rotted liquor stung her nose, sour and pungent.

Hmph. Does this count as disinfecting?

She considered taking a sip but grimaced. Considering the kind of guy it belonged to, it felt wrong.

Qing wiped her still-wet hand on someone’s trouser leg.

Then she gathered up the Moonlight Sword and slid it back into its scabbard.

All good, but goddamn—because it was long, she found she had to wrestle with it every time she sheathed it. What a pain in the ass.

And that’s when she noticed the sub-leader, still groaning and letting out a pitiful, drawn-out wheeze.

“Alright. Reflection time’s over. Regretting not living a decent life now, aren’t you?”

“What... what kind of grudge do you hold against Nokrim to be this vicious?!”

“Eh? What are you even talking about? I was just minding my business, and you lot picked a fight. You asked for sightseeing money, and I was actually willing to pay a little. I mean, look—”

She gestured around.

“Isn’t this worth the money? It’s a lovely show.”

“What nonsense! You barged in here—!”

“Who barged in where? Are you trying to say every mountain in the Central Plains belongs to Nokrim or something? I was passing through, and you picked a fight.”

The sub-leader was about to argue again but then paused. A creeping thought struck him.

“You... you walked in here not even knowing where this was?”

“Mm? Zhangjiajie?”

Zhangjiajie—wasn’t that the name of a small town beyond the grotesque stone peaks, over Tianmen Mountain and across two more ridges of Tianzi Mountain?

Realization hit him like a brick.

Fuck.

She hadn’t come to attack Nokrim. She really was just passing through, completely unaware.

Just like she said, they’d messed with the wrong person and got obliterated for it.

“Well then. Got any last words? Say something cool for your final statement.”

“...Spare me—!”

He tried to beg for his life, but before he could finish, her foot flew up and kicked him in the head, snapping his neck sideways.

Blood gushed from his smashed nose as he screamed in desperation.

“Wh-why...?”

“I said you could make a last statement. I never said I’d listen to it.”

“How the hell is that fair!?”

“And what about you? Did you ever listen to a single last request from the people you killed while playing bandit? Huh?

Not the ones you laughed at, I mean. I’ll let you live if you’ve granted just one.”

“T-that’s...”

His voice cut off.

But that silence alone was answer enough.

“I-I have!”

“Mm. I don’t believe you for a second. But hey, a promise is a promise.”

In a flash, she drew her sword.

One swing up, another down—two swift slashes.

His shoulders were sliced clean off, arms flopping down to the dirt on either side.

“I spared your life. You’re about peak-level, right? You should at least know how to stop the bleeding. If you die now, it’s on you.”

“What kind of... what kind of fucked-up—please, spare me!”

But without hands, he couldn’t even press his acupoints or tie a wound.

Still, Qing had no obligation to care.

If he really wanted to live, he could figure something out—use his foot, his teeth, whatever.

“Well then. I’ll be off. This was fun. Goodbye.”

Having wrung all the amusement out of it, Qing leapt away without a shred of regret.

Earlier, she’d seen some kind of signal flares flying up from all around, and if she stuck around, reinforcements might swarm the area.

And Qing—well aware of her incredible qinggong—had full confidence in her ability to escape anytime.

Thus, she decided: time to run.

At the summit of Yuknak Peak, the mountain path stretched east and west.

To the west was the trail up from Dragon Mountain, which continued into Tianzi Mountain.

Qing chose neither.

Doesn’t matter if there’s no path. As long as I keep heading south, I’ll get out.

She planned to descend the mountain by cutting straight south.

****

But there was one thing Qing didn’t know.

Her people—those from her homeland—tended to underestimate mountains.

That’s because the mountains of the Korean Peninsula were, in fact, quite tame.

The terrain wasn’t rugged. You’d never find labyrinthine gorges or disorienting natural mazes, and sheer cliffs blocking the way were rare.

The trees were short, sparse. Sunlight filtered in easily, visibility was decent.

But mountains—real mountains—were born to inspire fear.

Deep within, the forests grew so dense that even noon became darkness, and when night fell, it was utter blackness—whether your eyes were open or closed.

And the slopes weren’t just steep—they were erratic. A cliff the height of two grown men didn’t even qualify as a cliff.

To the people of the Central Plains, the mountains were forbidden zones—death traps you didn’t enter lightly.

What’s worse: this kind of terrain was entirely unsuitable for qinggong.

The Thousand Mile Flying Technique Qing had mastered specialized in long-distance bursts and high-speed running.

At full speed, she could leap over ten zhang in a single bound—inhumanly fast.

But here, in the untracked wild, there wasn’t even a single zhang of open space.

Trees blocked the way. The ground dropped suddenly—was it a cliff? A slope? You couldn’t tell.

Rock faces, ridges—all interrupted her movement.

If she jumped blindly, she'd end up like that sub-leader earlier, slamming into the terrain in a pointless “Go, Ximen Qing! Human torpedo!” moment.

The ground was thick with fallen leaves, making it impossible to read the terrain.

A single careless step could lead to a twisted ankle or a fatal fall.

Even seasoned mountain folk—herbalists, trappers, honey hunters—didn’t dare run through terrain like this.

So Qing opted for swift, nimble steps instead of qinggong, picking her way through the brutal landscape.

Of course, Qing’s physical abilities had long surpassed what was human.

Even while moving with astonishing speed and agility, she didn’t look the slightest bit winded.

Because it really wasn’t that hard.

Which led her to think:

I can’t use qinggong, but still—this is totally doable.

As long as I keep going south, I’ll make it through.

Hah. Climbing mountains isn’t such a big deal.

...

That’s what I used to think.

At least, until she ran into the sheer cliff that cut her path off completely.

Up until that point, she’d been in high spirits.

My path is the path. I make the way by walking.

With that proud mindset, she’d been crashing through the forest like a queen.

Then the trees thinned, and suddenly the world opened before her—an astonishing panoramic view from hundreds of zhang up.

Wow. That’s actually beautiful.

Those tiny green blobs far below—each one was a massive tree.

But the view didn’t last long.

Wait. How the hell am I supposed to get down from here?

Qing tapped the edge of the cliff a few times with her foot, confirming it was solid bedrock.

Then, despite being a peak-level master, she got down on all fours like a damn rookie and crawled to the edge to peek over.

“...Hhhuuhk.”

Startled, she scurried backward in a flurry.

The cliff had no railing, no ledge, nothing—just a clean, vertical drop.

Far more than a hundred zhang down.

The sight made her heart drop into her stomach and the backs of her knees go cold.

She trembled involuntarily.

Even with superhuman durability and internal qi defense, no one could survive falling over a hundred zhang.

She could try to climb down the rock face...

Nope. Not happening.

Sure, I’m a peak-level master, but I’m not a goddamn cliff-climber.

Worse yet, on the opposite side—southward—was another massive cliff, blocking the way again.

Even if she managed to climb down this one, there was no way she could climb the next.

Well then. Looks like it’s time to detour.

Qing glanced to either side and headed west for now.

She followed the cliffside at a cautious distance, but as the slope gradually shifted, she eventually came face-to-face with a wall of rock that completely blocked off the western path.

If she kept following the cliff, she’d end up right back where she’d fought those bandits earlier.

So Qing turned around.

After heading directly east for about half a shichen, her field of vision suddenly opened up again—

and there it was: the most breathtaking view in all of Zhangjiajie!

A light veil of mist draped over the landscape, islands seeming to float above the clouds—a dreamlike scene, so otherworldly it felt like a glimpse into the Immortal Realm.

They called it the Peach Blossom Spring.

Which meant, of course—it was a dead-end cliff.

Only then did Qing realize why there had been no path leading south.

Shit. The entire southern face is sealed off by cliffs. Of course there’s no path.

But this time, you couldn’t blame Qing for being dumb.

After all, her roots—the people of her homeland—were the kind to navigate by compass directions.

Forest or mountain, even cities were designed so that if you just oriented yourself to north, south, east, and west, you’d eventually reach your destination.

But that was the nature of planned cities. In older settlements, walking in a straight cardinal direction could very well get you smacked into a wall.

And common sense born of one culture rarely extended beyond its own borders.

Thankfully, after heading north a bit, a steep slope—not a cliff—finally came into view.

Mm, looks way too steep. Is this really okay...?

Still, if she went any farther, she’d be back where she started.

Too much time had already passed, and...

Ugh. Heaven’s Snare is the last thing I need.

Having already suffered once under a meticulous pursuit, Qing was deeply averse to being tracked.

She made up her mind.

And once Qing decided, she acted.

Granted, it was that same decisive spirit that had led her to spend nearly a full shichen tracing the southern cliffs of Yuknak Peak to end up in this situation.

Had she just taken the damn trail, she could’ve been down the mountain in one go.

Instead, she chose the harder, messier, and absurdly more time-consuming route—just because.

Qing carefully placed her foot on the slope.

Then lay back, clinging to the ground with her back and hands as she began her descent, inch by inch.

Of course, that meant she wasn’t going fast.

And if she slipped, even Qing wouldn’t walk away unscathed.

But what could she do?

This was the path she’d chosen.

All she could do now was grit her teeth and crawl her way down.

****

At the same time—

The first to respond to the emergency call from Yuknak Peak’s summit was none other than the Yangsanbak Corps.

Yangsanbak was the greatest idol and model figure to Nokrim.

And as you’d expect from a battle unit named after such a legend, the Yangsanbak Corps was Nokrim’s elite force, stationed directly at the cult’s main stronghold.

So when the members of Yangsanbak arrived and witnessed the carnage at Yuknak Peak’s summit, their faces twisted with disgust.

Body parts lay scattered across the ground, completely severed from their owners.

Not a single corpse retained its limbs.

The least gruesome were the ones where only the head had been removed—that was the best case.

And that was the dead.

Among the living, some still had all four limbs attached.

“Huff—Y-young master!”

“Don’t touch him! His neck’s broken—move him and he could really die!”

As expected of a top-tier unit, the Yangsanbak Corps included a designated medic, who carefully examined the unconscious young master.

“How is he?”

“His neck’s broken, yes, but there’s also blood pooling inside the skull. A few more moments and he would’ve been gone. He needs immediate treatment, but there’s a serious risk...”

“Better than watching him die right now. If something goes wrong, we’ll just say he didn’t make it in time. Now get on with it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Meanwhile, the other corps members scouted the area.

There was no need to investigate the identities of the dead.

The unit led by the Second Young Master was the Maengho Corps, and their sub-leader—now missing both arms—was unmistakably among the fallen.

“How many were in the Maengho Corps again?”

“Forty-seven, I believe.”

“But only twenty-four corpses.”

The corps commander, Do Usam, muttered coldly.

Given how horrific the scene was, it was easy to imagine the rest turning tail and running for their lives.

These days, they let in just anyone—any dog or pig could swagger around claiming to be a hero of Nokrim.

But how many of them were actually willing to risk their lives?

“Any survivors?”

“None.”

“The rest must’ve fled. But who could’ve done something like this? The sheer ferocity reeks of vengeance.”

Commander Do Usam tried to piece together what had happened—though it was little more than speculation.

And his conclusion was:

He had no idea.

Too many people in this world held a grudge against Nokrim.

If people gained power in proportion to the depth of their hatred, the Nokrim faction would’ve been wiped off the map long ago.

“How’s the young master?”

“He’ll survive... but...”

Because his neck had been left broken for too long, he was likely paralyzed below the neck—unable to move a single hair.

And chances were high his brain hadn’t come out unscathed either.

Unless he got really lucky, he’d either be a mute, a deaf-mute, or a full-on drooling idiot.

Do Usam scowled.

“Honestly, being a vegetable might be the better fate. Living paralyzed like that... If I end up like that one day, do me a favor and put me out of my misery.”

He exhaled grimly.

“But damn... what kind of monster could’ve—”

His thoughts didn’t get far.

Because soon after, a group of bandits from Dragon Mountain Fortress dragged in one of the Maengho Corps’ deserters, bound tight and struggling.

“I didn’t run away! I was calling for backup—kugh! AAGH! AAAAGH!!”

The deserter screamed as a brutal kick slammed into him, sending him rolling across the dirt.

Then a boot ground down on his wrist, drawing another shriek of agony.

“You sure talk a lot for a coward. If you wanna live, you’d better be useful. Who did this? Who the fuck was it?”

And without even a second of hesitation, the answer came out in a ragged scream:

“Ximen Qing! It was that bitch Ximen Qing!!”