Chapter 347: The Showdown Between Man and Ximen Qing (15)

First, assess the situation.

Qing scraped her fingers through the riverbed, driving herself deeper.

By the time she reached roughly the center of the river’s width, her breath had been so depleted her windpipe felt like it was twisting into knots.

Qing’s head broke the surface of the pitch-black river.

Hrrph—huff—hrrph—huff! Her brain, squeezed dry by oxygen deprivation, gasped like a wild animal for air.

“FIND HER! I SAID FIND HER! BRING HER BACK ALIVE!”

On the opposite bank, Wang Cheolgun was throwing a fit.

Qing swung her arms to spin herself around.

And at the Green Forest camp on the riverbank—

“FIND XIMEN QING! SHE’S DRIFTING AWAY IN CRITICAL CONDITION! WHOEVER PULLS HER OUT WILL BE REWARDED WITH ANY PRIZE THEY DESIRE!”

Some goat-bearded bastard was shouting at full volume.

Qing blinked in confusion.

Who the hell is this guy barking out orders when he doesn’t even have enough authority to raise his voice properly?

And yet, ridiculously enough, the Green Forest bandits all suddenly roared WAAAH! and dove in like elite warriors with courage tenfold, their splashes echoing across the night as they churned through the surface.

What the hell is this, a public swimming pool?

It’s half people, half water. The river’s gonna flood at this rate.

Qing took a deep breath.

Her lungs ballooned up, and—argh!—pain shot through her side, right where she’d been hammered by the head of the Nang-a Bong.

Shit. No clue how bad the injury really is.

Her head dipped back beneath the surface.

She jammed her fingers into the riverbed and pushed herself hard, gliding forward in long, smooth pulls.

Schhhk—schhhk—with each shove, she advanced one more body-length.

CLONK!

She smashed the crown of her head into something solid.

A little bubble escaped from Qing’s nose with a gurgle.

She’d been diving with her head down, scanning the riverbed, and smacked into a rock with her forehead—giving herself a full-force nuclear headbutt.

And not just her breath—tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

With the pitch-black night, the muddy water unique to Central Plains rivers, she couldn’t see a damn thing.

If she’d been looking forward instead of down, that sharp, beautiful nose of hers would’ve cracked and bent. Better to take a bump to the crown.

Goddamn, that fucking hurts.

Qing winced and continued to grope along the river bottom.

Then, suddenly—something caught on both shoulders. And SPLASH—something landed in the water and pressed down on her back.

Ugh!

The impact was on her back, but her torso—caught between the object and the riverbed—was compressed hard, and an electric jolt of pain whitewashed her vision as all the air whooshed from her lungs in an instant.

She instinctively surged upward—and just in time.

Her waist broke the surface with a splash—she was nearly at the riverbank.

Then, the sound of splashing and thrashing gave way to dripping water—and an irritated voice rang out behind her.

“Hey! No matter how urgent it is, you can’t just knock people over like that!”

Turned out the thing that had caught on both her shoulders had been someone’s legs.

The guy had launched out of the water like an arrow and caught Qing’s shoulders mid-dive, shoving her down.

Fire flared in Qing’s eyes.

“So it was YOU! The bastard who wrecked my ribs!”

Her pale hand plunged into the bandit’s side, grabbed something soft, and yanked.

SHLICK! Something long and wet came sliding out with a glorious slurp.

“Aaaagh!”

Intestines float, apparently.

Qing learned something new.

“Over here! It’s Ximen Qing—”

The guy next to him shouted—just in time for the drawn Moonlight Sword to pierce his throat and burst out the back.

SPRAAAH! A geyser of blood sprayed high.

“That’s right! Ximen Qing reborn, motherfucker—AAGH!!”

Qing shouted triumphantly—then yelped in pain.

She’d tried to leap forward using her left leg underwater—but her mind burst into sparks.

Ah. It wasn’t the side. The pain was lower.

Felt like her pelvis had been crushed, stabbed with a hot iron spike.

She staggered, flailed—and bit down hard as she forced herself up again.

She limped, half-dragging herself toward the riverbank.

“IT’S XIMEN QING! GET HER!”

“SHE’S LIMPING! SHE’S INJURED!”

If you captured the wounded Ximen Qing—your life would flip overnight.

Bloodshot-eyed bandits splashed through the current toward her.

But it’s not like you could swim fast in river water anyway.

Blades flashed. Heads—along with torsos—split wide open, or entire bodies were sliced from crown to solar plexus, drifting in the current.

“DAMN IT! SHE’S FINE!”

And then—

“XI—MEN—QING—!!”

Another earth-shaking bellow. That goddamn voice again.

Fuck. That bastard’s running across the water—wait.

His eyes—those damn eyes are up in the sky again. Another meteor’s falling!

Qing dove under in a panic and hugged the riverbed.

The water was only waist-high, but the night, the current, and the muddy riverbed rising in silt were enough to conceal her.

And then, Wang Cheolgun’s technique came crashing down.

Great Heaven Demon Destruction Staff — Ninth Form: Earth-Shattering Drop.

The hammerhead of the Nang-a Bong fell like a bolt of annihilation, piercing the surface and striking the bottom—BOOM!—a massive underwater explosion.

SCHRAAAAK! With an unholy sound, water surged into a massive crown-shaped geyser.

Had strategist types like Jegal Ihyeon or Sima Chunbong witnessed it, they’d have screamed “Great Heaven Demon Destruction!” and gone “That’s the Chief Inspector! A demon practitioner!” on the spot.

But Qing didn’t witness any of it.

She just took the full force of that impact underwater.

A crushing pressure clamped down on her entire body—kkgh!—blood fanned from her lips in a red mist.

WHUMP—all at once, her buoyancy vanished, and she was slammed flat into the bottom.

What the hell? Why?

She flipped over and rose with a bewildered glare—

Only to see Wang Cheolgun striking a majestic pose, his hammerhead buried so deep in the mud it was no longer visible.

What the hell. Where’s my water?

But that only lasted a second. The river surged back into the gouged trench of mud with a roar.

Qing launched herself forward—

ARGH! FUCK!

She’d landed on her left foot without thinking and hit the ground in a heap, rolling clumsily from the pain.

No time to scream.

She forced herself up and chased after Wang Cheolgun.

Glancing sideways at the riverbank—

Dozens of bandits floated downstream like trash.

In Qing’s hometown terms, this was a submerged mine detonation—an underwater explosion.

Even more dangerous than an explosion in the open air.

The crushing pressure blitzed the entire body—bursting blood vessels, organs, and every soft part of the body, snuffing them out instantly.

But like any massive compression, once your body reached a certain level of durability, the damage dropped exponentially.

And Qing’s body was the toughest under heaven.

Her organs held.

The dozens of bandits who had joined the “Find Qing and flip your life” sweepstakes were all wiped out in an instant.

The sight ignited fire in Qing’s brain.

Her vision was a blur, but she could vaguely tell—the black stuff was water, and the pale things floating in it were bandits.

So yeah, they were annihilated.

If you feared being attacked from all sides—then just make it so they can’t attack at all.

“Wow! Bandit purge! Random good karma! Wait—no! Go to hell and reunite with your kids!”

“XI—MEN—QIIING—!!”

“Yes, DAAAAD!”

Wang Cheolgun’s figure suddenly loomed huge.

No—he wasn’t zooming in. He was right in her goddamn face.

Qing’s true body split into eight translucent forms—

Then—fuck!—a burst of pain ruined her flow.

Two of the faint afterimages slipped off course—

And the real Qing collided violently with a bandit standing in front of her, both of them crashing to the ground.

“DIEEEE!”

“WAAAH! AHHHHH! AAAAARGH!!”

Qing rolled across the ground, screaming at the top of her lungs so Wang Cheolgun could hear her.

The Nang-a Bong slammed down where Qing had just been—right onto the waist of a still-dazed bandit.

The hammerhead struck the ground. No need to spell out what that meant for the bandit’s fate.

“Dad’s lost his goddamn mind! He’s killing everyone! Daddy! DADDY!”

Even while limping, Qing darted forward at a ferocious speed.

She didn’t really have a destination.

Her vision was blurred and dim, so she could barely see anything.

Her ears were still ringing, like she was underwater.

She’d taken the full shock of the earth-cracking impact through the water, so her more delicate senses—sight and hearing—were fried.

But with her sight and hearing dulled, her sense of touch was razor sharp.

Her Awakening Divine Art’s spatial perception had only been two ja at best, but now its range flared wide.

So Qing ran.

Darkness above—night. Solid ground below—earth. The yellow glow—torches. And torches meant people.

So: head toward the bandits.

Might as well go where they were most concentrated.

She couldn’t hear a thing with all the ringing, not even the piercing shriek of wind being torn apart.

But she could feel the turbulent shift in the air as the hammerhead’s trajectory surged in from behind.

Qing dove as if into water.

The hammerhead sliced past just above her as she rolled like a seven-year-old showing off somersaults.

After three rolls, she sprang up like a dancer and grabbed hold of the blurry shape in front of her.

“---!!”

It looked like he was saying something. No idea what.

Qing shoved the bandit backward.

Wang Cheolgun was charging like a boar—nothing left now but pure killing intent.

The classic side effect of inner demon deviation—complete loss of reason.

A human hammer that smashed everything in sight.

Through her blurred vision, it looked like people were being hacked apart.

Even though it was a blunt weapon, the way it split torsos in half sent chills up her spine.

Still, she forced a mocking grin and tried to stoke her fighting spirit.

If you’re gonna do that, why not just use a sword instead of a hammer, huh?

Daddy! DADDY! Her own voice echoed crystal clear through the dull underwater murk of her hearing.

She had no energy for clever banter. The only word coming out of her mouth was “dad.”

But every time she shouted, a fiery red flare burst across her vision—so maybe it was working?

Qing fled. Wang Cheolgun chased.

And the bandits fled, too.

“Chief! Please, snap ou—!”

CRACK! The bandit trying to reach her collapsed—his head gone, only his jaw left below the nose.

A nighttime chase.

The hunter: Wang Cheolgun.

The hunted: everyone else.

The bandits had realized by now that their Chief had completely lost it.

So when Qing came charging toward them, all they could do was run.

But Qing, even limping, was fast.

She caught up in no time, snatching sleeves, collars—hell, even waistbands—and shoved or hurled them forward.

When she grabbed someone light enough, she lifted them clean off the ground and tossed them like a doll.

Then Wang Cheolgun would swing the Nang-a Bong.

Some were crushed into jerky. Some lost their heads.

The luckiest ones just got their shoulders or legs pulverized, shrieking as they sprawled across the ground.

And up ahead, in Qing’s path—

“DON’T COME NEAR ME! I SAID STAY BACK!”

Ajandeok shouted as Qing approached.

Though called “Sanroe,” he had no real martial skill—just a swindler with a decent brain.

Amid flying limbs, exploding heads, and fountains of blood, fear froze his legs in place.

“NO! DON’T! PLEASE STOOOOOOP!”

Qing couldn’t see who he was—half-blind and all.

But he was light.

She groped around, found an ankle, gripped tight—alright, time for human flail.

After spinning three full rotations, she hurled Ajandeok toward the sky—

Just as Wang Cheolgun came leaping up again like a meteor streaking down from the heavens.

“NOOOOOO!”

Ajandeok’s head flew in a straight line and slammed into Wang Cheolgun’s rock skull—CRACK!

A heartwarming scene: the Green Forest’s first- and second-in-command (self-proclaimed) bumping heads together.

The two sworn brothers crashed straight through the roof of the command tent.

They must’ve hit a pillar—because the whole thing caved in with a WHUMP.

Qing found herself thinking—

Did I... do it?

Like some forbidden incantation that could raise the dead, the tent suddenly ballooned upward—

“XI—MEN—QIIING—!!”

“Goddamn it, Daddy! I’m right here!”

Qing charged forward again.

Another KA-BOOM!, WHOOSH!, STAY AWAY!, Chief, no!, The Chief’s gone insane!, RUN!, KRAK!, BAM!, THUD!

Wang Cheolgun’s evil karma kept getting shaved down.

And the virtuous karma Qing racked up leading these little acts of mercy climbed higher.

Now even the bandits were too busy running to do anything else.

When Qing closed in from behind, they screamed for her to stop—not just with words.

They even threw their most beloved subordinates at her in a desperate bid to reject her company.

Qing’s senses covered all directions.

But a human brain can’t focus on all directions at once.

CRACK!

A massive axe smacked her square in the forehead.

Her head stopped. But her body, driven by momentum, kept going.

The result: her feet flew forward.

A landing so ugly it made you groan just watching. There wasn’t a single part of her body that didn’t hurt. Her head was spinning.

And just as she thought that—

Ffffsh!

Again, from above!

Qing exploded off the ground in eight simultaneous movements—

Just in time for Wang Cheolgun’s devastating technique to come crashing down.

Of the eight Qings, one darted three jang back, arms and legs flailing like a woman possessed, running with her back to the ground.

They both rose to their feet at the same time.

Then it happened.

“Kugh.”

Wang Cheolgun staggered, coughing up blood.

No—he didn’t cough it up.

It poured, like wine from a tilted bowl, gushing in a steady, torrential stream.

And at last, he dropped to one knee.