Chapter 351: Journey to Naknyeong (4)

While Qing was still wondering—

Is that face the one I know?

Or maybe there are multiple branches of the Liangshan Bandit Alliance scattered across the Green Forest, and ‘Dowu-sam’ isn’t a name but a title all their leaders recycle...

“Shura Madman!” — “Dowu-sam!” — “Shura Madman!”

Ah, so Dowu-sam is famous?

Some courier in the crowd shouted his name, clearly having no clue who he really was, but repeating it out of courtesy?

I’ve done that plenty myself, I get the impulse.

But still... Shura Madman?

Qing only now realized that Dowu-sam, aspiring baby daddy, was running around with a pretty badass nickname.

Dowu-sam—

For just the leader of a ragtag mountain gang, seems like he’s fairly well-known?

Obviously, if he’s a Hua realm master, he’d be famous—

But realizing that so late is such a dumbass thought.

“Keh keh keh, everyone knows me, I see. No need for further introductions, then. Hand over the toll.”

The last Dowu-sam, judging by his karma alone, was a rotten bastard, but at least he carried himself with a certain gravity and weight.

Maybe coming back from the afterlife messed with his personality, or maybe this imposter isn’t bothering to mimic the personality along with the name—who knows.

“We’ll pay. Uh... how much?”

“Hmm... Let’s see now... how much would get me a good reputation? Hey, Cheonsal, what’s the going rate these days? I mean, we’re talking about a Hua realm master collecting tolls here—can’t be stingy.”

But Qing didn’t bother butting in with, Excuse me, sir, that guy’s a fake! That’s not the real Dowu-sam!

She was in rough shape, didn’t know exactly who this guy was, and had paid the price—literally in blood—for charging in without confirming details back in Zhangjiajie.

If Ximen Surin found out, she’d probably cry, finally proud her disciple had learned how to think, and spend a whole month offering food to Divine Lady Yohee as thanks.

So Qing stayed still, quietly gauging the enemy’s numbers and general level.

With her vision trashed, her hearing sharpened.

All around, left and right, countless breathing sounds.

Shit, they’ve got ambushes laid on both sides of the road?

What kind of bandits show up in numbers like this?

And then—

“Ah, right. Toll is one head per person.”

“Keh keh, boss, if it’s one head per person, isn’t that just counting the heads? Shouldn’t you say one full body per person?”

“Same difference. Look, if you hand them over nicely, I’ll let you keep your lives.”

Damn, that’s exactly the kind of line Qing herself would say.

She was honestly impressed.

Hand over your heads. If you do it nicely, I’ll spare your lives. Not bad at all.

The bandits’ intentions were obvious:

They planned to kill everyone.

Hak Seosan, the chief escort, panicked.

“W-Why... why are you doing this?”

“Keh hah hah! I am none other than the great Dowu-sam of the Liangshan Bandit Alliance, the terror of the Green Forest! Blame me if you must! Now, brothers—charge!”

The self-proclaimed Liangshan bandits all grabbed their weapons and prepared to rush in—

“Wait! Ugh...”

Fuck, my ribs... yelling with this busted torso hurts...

But Qing had been watching quietly, pinpointed the perfect moment just before their charge—

The bandits turned, curious.

Qing limped forward, brushing past Hak Seosan, her lips barely moving:

“There’s an ambush on both sides. Big numbers.”

Hak Seosan’s face instantly hardened.

Dude really couldn’t hide his expressions...

So Qing spoke up quickly:

“Hold on a second. I’m coming from Zhangjiajie, and Dowu-sam, leader of the Liangshan Bandit Alliance, is dead. But here you are claiming to be him? Who exactly are you?”

“W-What are you saying!? Dowu-sam is dead?”

“His head got cut off. Liangshan Bandit Alliance is finished.”

With that, Qing slammed her staff into the ground.

The bandits eyed her weapon—the one with a ludicrously oversized, brutal-looking head, balancing somewhere between hammer and Langya Club. Clearly couldn’t decide which convenience to give up, so she’d combined both.

The bandits looked at it like they’d never seen such a thing before.

Like they were culturally stunned by this new invention.

Qing quickly sized them up.

These assholes aren’t real Green Forest bandits.

She’d polished the iron shaft of the Langya Club earlier, revealing the black dragon coiled around it, ascending toward the heavens.

Granted, the club head was pointed down, so right now it looked like the dragon was diving toward the earth.

It was flashy as hell.

If these guys were truly Green Forest elites, supposedly Liangshan Bandit Alliance, no way they wouldn’t recognize their own leader’s signature weapon.

Just to be sure, Qing double-checked:

“See this? Doesn’t it mean anything to you?”

“Unique weapon, that. Somewhere between a hammer and a Langya Club? Looks heavy.”

“Not that heavy. About four geun.”

They all gave her that are you insane? kind of look.

“Seriously? You don’t recognize this? Come over here, take a closer look. You really don’t know what this is?”

“What is it? Say it already.”

“So that’s how it is. You really don’t know...

...You don’t know. Which means, yes, of course. You can’t perceive the truth or the consequences yet. But no, no... this story... hmm... right, it’s still too soon for you. But one day, you’ll understand. So, I’ll stop here.”

A vein bulged on the imposter Dowu-sam’s forehead.

“What the hell is she rambling about? Is she crazy?”

“Have you ever questioned your own existence? I mean, really—what is Dowu-sam? Are you born with that name, destined from the heavens? Or do you choose it of your own free will? Hmph... Judging by your expression, you’ve never thought that far. In that case, let me enlighten you—

...No. That revelation is still beyond you.”

Dowu-sam felt like he’d just choked down an entire raw sweet potato without chewing.

“You can’t even recognize this... you’ve truly fallen so far. But memory isn’t set in stone. Come on, take a good look again—see the inscription here? Right here, see this?”

Qing pointed to a spot on her staff.

“Dragon pattern? So what? Sure, it’s blasphemous as hell, but what of it?”

“Hmph. So that’s all it means to you...”

“What the hell is that, huh? Fuck! Stop keeping it to yourself and explain already—”

“Shit, I’m frustrated too, okay? Ugh. Just looking at the inscription here, anyone with half a brain would recognize it. You can’t see it?”

“All I see is the dragon. That’s it.”

“Shit. Of course you can’t see it from way over there! Get closer and take a proper look.”

Without thinking, Dowu-sam took about three steps forward—then caught himself.

“You bitch! Trying to lower my guard with that trick! The moment I get close, you’ll ambush me!”

Damn, doesn’t work on this one.

But Qing played innocent.

“Then I’ll toss it over, and you can look at it from there. If you still don’t recognize that after seeing it up close, you really have no hope.”

The way Qing emphasized that made Dowu-sam absolutely crazy with curiosity.

What the hell is it? Say it! Stop keeping it to yourself and spit it out already!

“Ugh, so what the hell is it, then?”

“You’ll know when you see it. Want me to toss it over? Or you coming to take a closer look?”

“Toss it. Gently. You try anything funny, you know what happens.”

“You’re planning to kill me anyway. Catch it properly, don’t scratch it.”

Qing tossed the Langya Club into the air.

As it arced down toward him, Dowu-sam raised his arms to catch it—

DENG!!

Qing’s invisible strike, aimed straight at Dowu-sam’s lower abdomen—or lower than that—shot out.

Tathagata’s Palm was just a disgustingly strong formless long-range palm strike.

Naturally, a fist hurts more than an open palm, so the saying that Shaolin monks neglected Tathagata’s Palm in favor of Hundred Step Divine Fist has its logic.

Of course, the best internal-weight-transfer mechanics aren’t built into the Hundred Step Divine Fist...

You can blow up some low-tier martial artist’s head with the merciful strike of the Buddha, but a peak-level master? Their skull’s like iron, they tank it all.

So what can you do? Man to man, yeah, it’s a bit unfair... but we’re not exactly friends here.

“Ugh—!”

A brutal impact struck Dowu-sam below the dantian—precisely below the belt.

With the sorrow unique to men, his waist folded forward like a snapped reed—

And the falling Langya Club’s cracked hammer head slammed down on the back of his skull.

“Gah!”

When it hurts that much, you can’t even scream.

So hearing a scream after the Langya Club cracked his head?

Meant the pain in his family jewels was way worse.

But Qing was already airborne, blasting her Ice Demon Force from her feet.

The five-geun Moonlight Sword traced a glowing yellow crescent through the air.

Thunk. Dowu-sam’s head came off again.

Plenty of people have died multiple times in history, but having your head cut off twice?

Dowu-sam probably made history there.

Qing’s own head flared with pain.

Fuck! My waist!

Pain fuels hatred, hatred fuels strength!

These filthy mountain bandit imposters! Because of you, my side—!

If the fake bandits heard, they’d probably scream, Hey, we’re imposters, but why take it out on us after getting smashed by real bandits?!

But if you wanna be treated like real bandits, you gotta suffer the consequences too.

You can’t be a bandit when plundering, but a poor, misunderstood civilian when getting your ass kicked.

Qing’s figure stretched through the air, and on that flowing trajectory, one bandit’s head split clean down the middle.

Qing shouted at the same time—

“What are you waiting for?! Hit them!”

The caravan guards grabbed their weapons and charged.

Normally, Qing would be smiling wide—

But her expression stayed strained.

Not because her side was protesting stop moving or you’ll dissolve into sepsis, care for the wound if you value your life.

What the hell? I only split him down to the philtrum?

Did I pull back without realizing because of the pain in my waist?

One guy, stunned by the blade sprouting from his comrade’s skull, barely raised his axe before Qing’s spiked iron club—standard issue for Green Forest elites—smashed straight down on his crown.

His skull caved in from the forehead to the jawline.

Ahhh, yeah, that’s the feeling.

But... something’s off.

Why didn’t it burst properly? Just dense-headed?

“Waaah! Die, bandit bastards!”

The caravan guards shouted to boost morale and rushed in.

Qing weaved between them, stabbing with blades, smashing with the hammer, spinning to crack skulls with the spiked iron mace.

Simple reason for all the downward strikes—

Her side throbbed so bad, she relied on Taesan Pressure Hammer’s downward momentum, borrowing gravity’s help.

Faced with the caravan guards’ determined assault, the bandits faltered and retreated.

To be fair, escort guards probably get exposed to real combat more than anyone.

They charged in threes against one, a disgustingly cheap battle tactic.

The bandits had the edge in individual skill, but they got pushed back, slashed, bashed, and skewered.

And with Qing, that peak, transcendent, absurd freak taking heads with every strike, they started to backpedal, then outright turned to flee.

Qing chased after them, but one bastard twisted his waist violently, turning mid-run and waving his arms wildly in a get lost gesture.

You think waving your arms will make me stop chasing you?

Qing planted a foot, ready to launch into the sky with Heavenly Demon Footwork’s explosive acceleration—

THUNG-DUNG-THUNG-THUNG!

A sharp, pounding sound echoed, something being hammered relentlessly.

Then—

WHEE-E-E!

The shrill, murderous screams of tearing wind—

Hidden weapons! Not ordinary ones—fast as hell!

Without a shred of hesitation, Qing dove to the ground, sliding hard.

PAPAPAK!

Arrows slammed down exactly where she’d stood a moment ago.

The force behind them was terrifying—

Winter ground frozen rock solid, yet the arrows buried deep, leaving only the fletching visible above the surface.

Qing trembled, forcing herself upright, her burning side howling.

“Kgh...”

“S-Spare me...”

Qing had charged off to chase the enemy.

But the caravan guards hadn’t been as aggressive.

Their job was guarding the cargo.

Defeating the enemy and driving them off was enough—

They weren’t hunters tasked with tracking down retreating foes for the kill.

And just as they were about to let out triumphant cheers, the arrows rained down.

Powerful arrows, too.

Even Qing couldn’t block or dodge in time, forced to hurl herself to the ground with violent desperation.