Chapter 350: Journey to Naknyeong (3)

There was also one more suspicious pill — it smelled nice, but no idea what it was.

A bunch of rolled-up papers... oh, is this a map of the area?

Half-blind as I am, I can’t even tell if this is a map or some transport slip.

When I tried to move the contents into my travel satchel, the half-dry satchel felt damp.

In the end, I stuffed everything back in, slung both satchels over my shoulders — hmm, looks like I can get moving again now.

And yet, a suffocating sense of helplessness pressed down.

I... have to keep going like this?

It hurts just to breathe...

But whining isn’t going to shorten the road ahead.

And it’s not like I can sit around in the middle of this brutal wilderness until I recover.

So what can I do? I have to go. I have to go.

Qing tried to sigh, but—ah, fuck, can’t even sigh, shit.

She took a deep breath, but the moment her chest swelled, her ribs screamed ugh, her ruptured external obliques ugh, the torn internal obliques underneath ugh, and even deeper, the shredded transverse abdominis ugh, and her water-logged, sagging diaphragm ugh, and her lower tendons contracted in pain, crushing down on her fractured pelvis ugh.

Still, it’s not like she could collapse here.

Gotta move. Just go...

South.

The sky’s overcast with clouds — from atop the Zhangjiajie peaks it’d just look like mist spreading under your feet — but that faint glow bleeding through the pale sky was enough to set her direction.

Along the way, Qing spotted a half-burnt corpse of a Wang Iron Army soldier lying inside a crater smashed open by a falling hammer.

No oil had been poured over him, so his body was crisp on the outside, tender inside. But more than that, her eyes drifted toward the massive war hammer propped beside him.

Would’ve made a damn fine walking stick, considering how hard it was to walk.

She picked it up — turned out, it was far lighter than her Moonlight Sword (greatsword, Ten Tigers style).

The balance was all shifted toward the head, but by pure weight alone, it barely scraped under four geun.

Well, of course.

There aren’t many weapons in the world weighing five geun each.

Even at under four geun, it’s still absurdly heavy — the kind that’d make people say, “You’re swinging that? Are you insane?”

Among Langya Clubs, it ranked as one of the heaviest types.

Besides, the original Langya Club wasn’t this heavy.

It had been heavily modified, the weight artificially increased.

With her busted vision, Qing only noticed that after inspecting it up close.

Ah. So this wasn’t a war hammer.

It was a Langya Club.

Through the half-shattered hammer head, the sharp spikes of the iron mace beneath were poking out.

Looks like they stuck an iron mace inside a square mold, poured molten steel over it, and reforged it into a hammer.

But the mountain bandits’ blacksmithing wasn’t exactly top-tier, so the hammer head cracked under pressure.

Suddenly, her chest tightened.

Holy shit.

I... really almost died back there...

Guess I lived purely by luck, huh...

Bet they disguised the iron mace head as a hammer to capture people alive.

The flat hammer face dispersed the impact, so her side merely ruptured.

But if it’d been the Langya Club head?

Those spikes would’ve pierced straight through her abdominal wall, stabbing into her guts.

The full force of the impact would’ve torn her insides apart.

Dead on the spot, all organs ruptured and shredded.

Right now, I’d be pestering the ferryman on the River of Three Crossings, asking, “Did I really die?” at least three hundred times by now.

Granted, if it had been a Langya Club from the start, Qing would’ve dodged with everything she had.

Still, she reflected deeply at last.

A master of the Hua realm wasn’t someone to take lightly, and her cocky assumption that she might win had been stupid.

That realization, that painful moment of self-awareness, was worth far more than some area map, mysterious pills, or her glorious achievement of killing two Hua realm fighters and wiping out the Green Forest bandits.

What should she have done?

There was no real reason to torch that stronghold so hastily — she could’ve circled the mountains slowly.

Wear them down with guerrilla tactics around the Yang family’s territory, torch one stronghold at a time when they got complacent, keep their morale in check.

If she’d resigned herself to camping out for the long haul, drag it out until she found a more favorable battleground...

Or, sorry to the future generations, but during the dry winter season, she could’ve just set the whole mountain ablaze and booked it.

By the time the tourist business starts booming, wouldn’t the trees have grown back?

Although, come to think of it, this damn place was a perpetually damp jungle with water flowing beneath the soil.

In a rain-soaked primitive forest where even starting a campfire is a struggle, who knows if a wildfire would’ve caught at all.

Lost in those thoughts, Qing limped along gingerly — walking any harder made the pain unbearable.

Still, having something to mull over made the pain a bit more tolerable.

Eventually, she emerged from Yuanjia Valley into a small village.

The village south-west of Zhangjiajie was also called Yuanjia Valley.

Technically, the north-west slopes of Tianzi Mountain and Tianmen Mountain were Yangjia Valley, the central and south-west were Yuanjia Valley, the eastern side was Zhangjiajie — the villages near the main roads all shared the same names.

The reason?

These names dated back to when rebels hid out in these unforgiving primeval forests.

The land where the Yang clan rebels lived: Yangjia Valley.

The land where the Yuan clan rebels lived: Yuanjia Valley.

Likewise, Zhangjiajie meant the land where the Zhang clan rebels lived.

Although, calling them rebels was ancient history — empires had risen and fallen countless times since those prehistoric days, so they weren’t really rebels anymore.

This tidbit came from the young waiter at the only inn in Yuanjia Valley.

Guess he wanted to boast about his hometown to the wealthy guest who’d just cleared out their precious food stock.

Or, more precisely, he was shamelessly hitting on the peerless beauty who descended upon their rustic village like a celestial maiden.

Too bad for him, Qing didn’t even register his clumsy flirting.

Still, an inn’s an inn — can’t complain.

She handed over some silver (firewood was pricier than gold around these small villages) and soaked her body in the hot bath.

Good thing she’d swiped that luxury perfumed soap left behind by that nameless girl.

After lathering herself in the Tang Family’s premium Golden Spear medicinal ointment courtesy of Tang Nana — hmm, should I leave the wound exposed, or wrap it tight?

If left exposed, it hurts less when resting, but the moment you move, the pain’s unbearable.

If bound tightly, it hurts constantly even while resting, but moving gets easier.

No way a village this size had a horse stable, so she’d be walking.

Frustrating and sore as hell, but no other option.

She tossed some coins at a local housewife to wash the contents of her satchel, reeking of river water and fishy stench.

Normally, she’d do it herself, but crouching down was impossible with her injuries — had to exploit the housewife.

The woman, who earned extra washing a few more garments along with it, beamed from ear to ear.

Worked out for both Qing and the woman.

Thus, from a battered savage, Qing transformed back into the pristine heroine of the righteous sects, donning her veil once more as the true Tianhua headed south.

It was too late to detour east under the excuse of her side injury.

Thinking about it... pushing too hard to get here fast is probably why her side burst open.

So that’s why they say speeding’s dangerous, huh.

South it is.

To Huaihua County — a mountain trek awaits.

Still, binding the wound tight made it slightly better.

A sharp, tingling pain flared with every breath — but in a weird way, kind of refreshing? Manageable, even?

Walking wasn’t that bad, all things considered.

Once she reached Huaihua by the river, a smooth highway followed the water all the way to the Guangxi border.

She hitched a wagon to Tongdao County, the southernmost city in Hunan Province.

From there, the massive mountain range dividing Hunan and Guangxi loomed in her path.

But crossing this would lead to Guangxi’s highlands and flatlands beyond.

Qing’s walking pace was naturally fast.

She’d always been that way — now, add to that a body surpassing human limits.

Ordinary civilians would be gasping and collapsing trying to keep up as she slipped by with ease.

Even now, with her side torn open, she was fast.

If not for the injury, she’d have flown over these mountains using light footwork by now.

But walking with her wound tightly wrapped?

Her Shintu-style footwork barely transmitted any impact to her core, so it wasn’t too bad.

Still, she had to consider her side’s perspective too.

A woman with three layers of abdominal muscles torn to shreds, scaling mountains like a seasoned lumberjack or herbalist — it was a miracle she wasn’t already rotting from sepsis or watching her flesh dissolve.

That’s because Qing’s constitution, the Blood Poison Body, grants complete immunity to secondary infections.

Qing knew that, so she kept pushing her body to its limits.

Hadn’t she already spent her first year countless times rolling around torn open, bleeding, covered in filth, only for her body to heal right back up?

So even limping, Qing was ascending the mountain path at a speed that, to others, looked like a rapid advance.

“Stop! Halt there!”

A large caravan that had been moving ahead was getting closer — and just as Qing was about to catch up, someone shouted and blocked her path.

Qing frowned beneath her veil.

Fuck’s sake, I just got my rhythm down.

She’d finally managed to find a walking pace that minimized the pain, and now this. Naturally, her voice came out sharp.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“...?”

The man looked confused.

Then asked—

“Weren’t you following us, miss?”

“Eh? Me? Why would I? What makes you think I’m following anyone?”

“...?”

“...?”

But the guards escorting the caravan felt wronged by her irritation.

Hadn’t a limping figure with her face covered been chasing them from down the mountain with alarming speed?

And from a distance, you could clearly see her smashing that brutal, oversized Langya Club into the ground with each step, threatening as hell — clearly a formidable martial artist, and her face hidden to boot.

Of course, every one of the caravan guards instinctively placed their hands on their sword hilts, bracing for a confrontation.

It was all just a harmless misunderstanding.

If they were martial artists of the unorthodox factions, a fight might’ve broken out on the spot, but Qing was from the righteous sects, and this was an official courier guild.

So the misunderstanding cleared up quickly.

“Haha, my apologies! I’m the chief escort of the Hoso Courier Guild — Hak Seosan.”

“Ximen Qing.”

“Tianhua Sword!” — “Most Beautiful Under Heaven!” — “Tianhua Sword!”

There was some weird shout mixed in there...

Anyway, must be a Kangho custom to chant famous titles in greeting. Everyone seemed to know her and welcome her, which honestly felt pretty good.

“So you’re the Tianhua Sword, Lady Ximen Qing! Never expected to run into you in a place like this. By chance, are you headed to Guilin?”

“Nanning.”

“Ah. If it’s not urgent, would you mind traveling with us as far as Samgang?”

Qing hesitated briefly — she’d nearly reached Guangxi Province. Samgang was a city just past the mountain range, so traveling together wouldn’t delay her much.

Not worth giving up the comfort of following the caravan for a few hours saved.

Eat their food, maybe grab some snacks, hitch a ride in their wagons, get there comfortably, toss them a small gesture of thanks.

Why waste that for the sake of a couple hours?

Thus, Qing settled herself firmly atop one of the cargo wagons.

Though for some reason, not a single courier or porter was holding back their stares.

Not like their gazes could pierce through her veil, but still.

Of course they’d be curious about her looks — either the most beautiful woman under heaven, or the most likely candidate.

But Qing wasn’t about to lift her veil just to satisfy their curiosity.

While Qing pretended not to notice everyone’s longing gazes and perched herself atop a sack of grain, the chief escort, Hak Seosan, climbed up and offered her a blanket.

“By the way, aren’t you cold?”

Qing’s outfit wasn’t suited for winter.

Wide sleeves and flowing pant legs flapping in the early winter wind — just watching made people feel cold.

The breeze practically looked like it was slicing through her clothing.

But as the master of Ice Technique, Qing didn’t feel particularly cold.

You’d have to be lying all night on the freezing ground in soaking wet clothes, chilled to the bone, before she’d think wow, it’s cold enough to die.

But seriously, what kind of dumbass in this world would lie around in wet clothes on cold, bare ground in the middle of winter?

A cool breeze sneaking through dry, clean clothes onto healthy skin didn’t exactly count as cold.

Still, a blanket was appreciated.

Just because she wasn’t cold didn’t mean she disliked warmth.

Nice of the escort leader to be so considerate.

“Ah, thank you. I’m not particularly cold, but warmth is always nice.”

Wrapped in the blanket, a gentle heat spread through her, making her drowsy.

Qing started nodding off, lulled by the warmth.

“Stop!”

The wagon jerked to a halt.

Fuck’s sake, I was just about to drift off...

Qing wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, annoyed.

For the record, the caravan guards had been whispering in awe,

Wow, when you reach that level, you can snore away with just a thin blanket in this freezing weather...

Something was clearly happening.

Having learned from painful experience, Qing rose very slowly and carefully.

Took three fainting episodes from trying to spring up like normal before she figured out the proper, delicate technique.

Standing atop the wagon, Qing peered ahead.

Her busted vision still made everything a blur, but the bulky figures in thick fur coats, wielding axes and broadswords, were clearly mountain bandits.

Hak Seosan stepped forward, cupping his fists politely.

“Heroes of the Green Forest, I see! Our Hoso Courier Guild already paid the toll at the Dae-tong stronghold—”

“That was Dae-tong Stronghold’s toll. But this is the great Tae-nokrim and Liangshan Bandit Alliance territory, so shouldn’t you show some proper respect here?”

Qing’s expression darkened.

Liangshan Bandit Alliance? They got wiped the fuck out.

Or to be precise, I wiped them the fuck out.

Could they be the remnants?

But how would the Liangshan Bandit remnants block my path like this?

Did they sprint all the way here from Zhangjiajie?

While Qing tilted her head in confusion, the mountain bandit continued.

“Keh keh, I’m none other than the great leader of the Liangshan Bandit Alliance, Dowu-sam! You know me, right? Dowu-sam!”

Qing’s eyes widened in shock.

Oh Taesik — no, Dowu-sam — is back.

Wait, how?

Did they... pick up his severed head and stick it back on or something?