Chapter 346: The Showdown Between Man and Ximen Qing (14)

A clash between masters—worse yet, turning your back on an opponent stronger than yourself—was fatally reckless.

Then again, the opponent was also showing his back. In a way, maybe that made things fair.

Still, why the hell did they always have to appear with their backs turned?

The moment Qing appeared, he twisted around in a flash.

A mere bandit leader, yet his movement was faster than Qing’s, flaunting his level as a Huajing master.

Wang Cheolgun had already taken a step toward her.

That alone made a world of difference.

For a martial artist, a single step was a jin-gak, a ground-piercing burst of true movement.

Three steps were near full speed. Which meant the real distance had already been slashed by more than half.

This was the damned issue with Nŭngpa Mibo.

If she didn’t twist her body upon arrival and instead simply lunged forward—charging with her back exposed, going for a reverse assault—it might’ve worked. But in duels like this, she always ended up yielding an opening by dodging first.

Qing grit her teeth and drew her Sword Aura.

Wang Cheolgun wielded twin hammers—Nang-a Bong.

The Nang-a Bong was a polearm topped with metal weights.

Usually they’d have iron balls covered in spikes like a flail, but his were uniquely capped with hammerheads instead.

But seriously—wouldn’t a spiked iron ball be way more destructive than a hammerhead?

Was it one of those odd weapons paired with some secret martial art?

It was a weapon Wang Cheolgun had made specifically to capture Qing alive.

The wide, flat hammerhead wouldn’t cause fatal injuries like a spiked flail would, but it’d still break and crush bones.

His hatred was genuine. He wanted to make her regret being alive.

Three steps. Wang Cheolgun raised both arms high.

Even with blades embedded in his forearms, the pain didn’t register—his rage had driven him mad.

The hammerheads slipped behind his back.

In Qing’s field of view, all she could see were his hands held up, the forearms up to the elbows in plain sight. The lower arms, hidden behind, carried the hammerheads.

Within Qing’s mind, tens of thousands of Ximen Qings swung their swords.

A simulation of possible futures—but all of them were brutal.

Some had their skulls smashed in by hammerheads. Others took a hit to the arm and got slammed into their own ribcage, bones splintering.

One got struck in the stomach and went flying. Another’s shoulder was hit and their forearm ripped [N O V E L I G H T] clean off.

This was the vision of a sovereign—where every motion, every flick of the hand or foot, altered the balance of the world.

But among the countless Ximen Qings in her mind—

One Qing angled her sword to deflect the hammerhead’s trajectory.

Another had her blade glide up the shaft of the Nang-a Bong, aiming for Wang Cheolgun’s hand—

Yes. That sword. That one.

Qing took up the exact stance she had envisioned.

In the split second Wang Cheolgun stomped his second, third, and fourth steps, her mind exploded into infinite calculations.

This was the sword of the laziest ruler the world had ever seen—but with a single strike, she could seize all under heaven.

Five steps. Qing’s eyes lit up.

Just one more step!

But Wang Cheolgun was a Huajing master.

With the fifth step, he slammed down and came to a dead stop. The hidden arm behind him followed through with that momentum, extending—

The right hand. It was the right hand.

His right hand gripped the end of the Nang-a Bong and swung it forward with just one arm, lashing out from seven feet away.

If she dodged? No, it’s too late—fuck!

Qing gave up the planned sword path and braced her palm against the flat of the blade.

The wave of brute True Qi slammed into her like a tidal surge, making the Moonlight Sword vibrate with a deafening hum as if on the verge of shattering.

Still, it was fine. As long as she could redirect the hammer upward and create an opening—

But in that instant, the hidden left arm grabbed the Nang-a Bong and twisted its path.

It smashed into her blade at a right angle—WHAM!

Wang Cheolgun had been trying to break her sword.

But Qing’s Sword Aura hadn’t fully condensed, that’s all. In terms of total Qi, she wasn’t falling behind.

Besides, the Moonlight Sword was a greatsword, with a blade nearly twice as thick as normal to add weight.

Even with a direct hit, it held out.

The impact, however, hit her full force.

Qing’s body wasn’t normal—it dispersed shock down into the ground.

Unfortunately, the ground she stood on was nothing but loose gravel.

Her footing gave a crunching sound as her foot slid three inches into the pebbles.

Her balance rocked for a moment, her body swaying back, forward, up, and down.

At that instant, Wang Cheolgun took another step.

His other foot swept low along the ground toward Qing’s ankle—CRACK!

“Ah.”

But what came from Qing wasn’t a scream—it was a gasp of surprise.

Her ankle bones were solid bone.

Not literally—but her physique had surpassed human limits.

With the reinforced body trained through naked cultivation in the Sect of Divine Maidens, her bones were even harder than her muscle.

It hurt, sure. But that was all.

More than the pain, what troubled her now was the sudden lift-off from the ground—thanks to the slippery gravel and lack of friction, both feet floated into the air.

The world tilted sideways. A bizarre sensation.

A martial artist’s strength came from their connection to the ground.

Suspended in air like this, it was impossible to exert proper force.

Ah. Something big is coming.

Her skin, hypersensitive from Awakening Divine Art, clearly painted the scene around her.

Wang Cheolgun’s left foot stomped down, and then came the rise of his right leg, his knee—

It’s headed for her ribs.

In that fraction of a second, Qing shot her left arm forward.

THWACK!!

Her breath caught.

The world spun madly.

Like a kicked pebble, Qing flew across the stony ground, bouncing and rolling.

“AAAGH!!”

A scream rang out.

But it wasn’t hers.

Wang Cheolgun howled, clutching his own forearm.

Qing scrambled to her feet.

Now she gripped a vicious-looking, barbed mireul dagger in her left hand.

Flesh still clung to its jagged, hook-like blade, like it had been buried inside someone.

Being airborne meant no solid footing—so attacks lacked power.

But conversely, it meant absorbing a blow didn’t hurt quite as much either; momentum converted to motion instead of raw impact.

So Qing had made the call—to take the hit and reach for the dagger embedded in Wang Cheolgun’s arm, yanking it free.

Wang Cheolgun’s face twisted—not just in hatred now, but agony.

Qing smirked at the sight.

“What’s with that look? Wow, that’s not fair. I didn’t pull it out, okay? I just happened to grab whatever was there when you kicked me. Thought you were trying to yank a tooth or something. Do they tie strings to teeth and kick ‘em in Zhongyuan too?”

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

Wang Cheolgun charged again.

Qing had learned her lesson from the hit.

The Nang-a Bong—depending on where it was gripped—could adjust its range at will.

She’d thought it would be easier to predict because it was a long weapon meant for two hands.

But he could wield it one-handed, with either hand.

And the hammerheads shifted unpredictably depending on grip. That made it even trickier than most swords she was used to.

Just reacting to stance and posture alone would’ve gotten her destroyed.

A few bruises on her ribs—cheap tuition for the lesson.

Wang Cheolgun lunged.

Rather than try a half-baked counter, Qing kept her eyes locked on the trajectory—one step right, one step back, and then a sharp pivot left to evade the Nang-a Bong.

The hammerhead cleaved vertically through the air right in front of her chest.

An opening!

Qing’s eyes flashed.

KA-THOOM! The hammer struck the ground and tore the surface open.

Qing didn’t resist the force pushing her back—she threw herself into it.

Rolling nimbly on hands and feet, she escaped the spot with a flawless series of agile tumbles.

Damn it! If I block, I stagger. If I don’t, I get launched!

Cheap bastard!

Wang Cheolgun roared in fury.

“FUCKING RAT BITCH!”

“Rat bitch? What, your kids got bitten to death by a rat bitch or something? CLICK! Your kids—click! Went to hell—click! Serves you right—click!”

“I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!”

Wang Cheolgun’s eyes were bloodshot to the point of bursting.

No whites left—only rage.

Red outside, black within.

His hammer strikes now targeted Qing’s vital points with pure, unhinged fury.

Fueled by rage, the blows were heavier and faster—but also telegraphed.

Easier to dodge, in fact.

“CLICK! Can’t even catch a Huajing rat, you old bastard!”

“GRAAAAH!!”

“DAD! YOU CAN DO IT! EXCEPT! YOU CAN’T! NO SON! NO DAUGHTER!”

“RRAAAAGH!!”

Now Qing went all in—she even sheathed her sword and focused solely on running away.

Because she had something she was counting on.

I mean, coating a mireul dagger with poison is basic common sense, right?

She’d ransacked Liangshan Fort looking for secret manuals or treasure, but all she found were a bunch of suspicious medicine bottles.

She even ground up some herbs and smeared it all on thick and sticky.

Right now, with all the blood rushing to his head and rage boiling over, he probably didn’t even realize the poison was in his system. But once his mind cleared even a little, he might try to retreat and purge the toxin.

That was why Qing kept provoking him relentlessly.

Honestly, bringing up his dead kids over and over was... yeah, okay, just a little bit—just a tiny bit—she felt bad about that.

But hey, she had to survive too. It’s not like the two of them could live under the same sky anymore.

Still... was the poison too weak or something?

Shouldn’t he be coughing up blood and collapsing by now?

Her tongue had gone numb—what if it wasn’t poison at all, but some kind of mystery mala seasoning?

Qing stared in disbelief as Wang Cheolgun kept charging around like a rabid animal.

But time was on her side.

“Hey, old man. Your kids—ugh, will you just let me talk? I’m trying to—! I’m TALKING, you son of a—!”

“DIEEEE!”

“You keep telling me to die! No thanks! YOU die! Spring potatoes taste great! Oh, wait, your house doesn’t have any kids to cook for, huh?”

“RAAARGH!!”

They were already past fifty exchanges, and the bandit leader still showed no sign of collapsing.

Whoosh—a hammerhead whizzed just over her head.

Whooosh—another grazed past her shoulder.

Whoooosh! WHAM! WHOOSH!

Still, it was obvious his speed was dropping. Even as Wang Cheolgun screamed “DIE DIE DIE AAAARGH,” his roars were now laced with ragged, heaving breaths.

He was wearing down.

His attacks were growing slower, weaker, simpler, and more predictable.

That made dodging much easier for Qing.

As one hammerhead grazed right past her nose and swept around behind her, she focused hard, trying to read its next move. Would it be a swing? A thrust? A vertical smash?

She focused intently on deciphering the Nang-a Bong’s shifting movement—

And then suddenly—within the sensory field of her Awakening Divine Art—an ambush, charging in from three directions behind her!

Why?! Why from behind?!

She’d been fighting with the woods at her back just in case someone on the far side of the river tried flinging a hidden weapon.

Then came the hands lunging from behind—ah, fuck.

****

Just a moment earlier—

Sanroe Ajandeok had lowered his voice.

“Hey, Cheonsal.”

Cheonsal—ranked twenty-second among the Liangshan bandits—looked at Sanroe.

“Take the others and go assist the Leader. Looks like she’s barely dodging. Couldn’t you jump in and just open a slight gap for her?”

“Sanroe-hyung, do you not see what’s happening? If we butt in there, we’ll die. Worse—we might even get in the Chief’s way.”

“But if we outnumber them, even if we trip her up a little, won’t we win in the end? Look at the state of things. Even if our Chief wins this, the Green Forest will be torn in half.”

“No big deal if a few of those cowards run off.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You think this ends with that girl dying? If even one of those Huajing masters dies and we lose half our numbers, you think the righteous factions of the orthodox Murim world will just stand there? With that kind of excuse, they’ll launch a full-scale purge. There won’t be a corner of the realm left for us to hide. At the very least, we need to capture her. Then we either convince the Chief to cripple her and let her go, or negotiate some kind of settlement if we want the Green Forest to survive.”

“...Damn it. Shit.”

“She’s sharp. You’ll have to do it in secret. Split the force—some upstream, some downstream—cross the river quietly and ambush her from all sides at once. And don’t forget what the Chief promised. Whoever contributes to capturing Ximen Qing gets the credit. You get what I’m saying?”

“...Ha. Fine. You only die once, might as well make it count. Maybe I’ll start my own mountain fortress too. Fuck this Cheonsal Star nonsense. Even Liangshan gives you trash-tier constellations.”

And now—

WHACK! A brutal impact slammed into her back.

A huge chunk of True Qi was knocked loose.

It was a strike charged with significant internal energy.

But what really fucked her was the way it sent her lurching forward—

Straight into the path of a hammer streaking toward her temple!

Qing threw both arms up to shield her head—fuck, she’s screwed—

“Urgh!”

Wang Cheolgun’s Nang-a Bong dipped low.

The hammerhead veered toward Qing’s side.

THUD! It drove nearly half a ja deep into her ribs.

“Huurgh!”

The sheer compression to her torso forced the air out of her lungs like a vacuum.

And this was a blunt weapon enveloped in Gang Qi.

Mystical energy amplified the impact force.

Struck full-on, Qing flew like a tossed rock, bounced twice on the ground, and then—

Splash!

A river cold as late autumn ice.

Qing’s senses snapped into crystal clarity.

Agonizing pain surged in, but her mind remained sharp.

Back in her hometown, they called it some kind of brain chemical surge triggered by near-death—but Qing had no clue. She wasn’t the scholarly type.

She just knew: if she surfaced now, it’d be no different than suicide.

Qing clung to a rock on the riverbed and held her breath in the murky dark.

She opened her mouth and spat out a mouthful of blood, rinsing her mouth.

Fuck, can’t breathe. This is gonna kill me.

Her breath had been completely knocked out on impact.

If she’d inhaled right before getting hit, she could’ve held on a little longer—but no luck.

What now? What do I do?

He’s a Huajing maniac with murder in his eyes, and now there are people trying to grab my ankles too. How the hell am I supposed to win this?

These dirty bastard bandits launched a sneak attack?!

What kind of human being ambushes someone like this?

Anyone that cowardly deserves to be torn limb from limb.

You might say Qing herself ought to be the first in line for a public execution by dismemberment—but!

Qing had never ambushed people. Only creatures that looked human but were beneath beasts.

So she was innocent. Technically.