Chapter 453: A Sad Legend, What Kind of Legend Is It? (3)

And so Jin Jangmyeong strapped on the false breasts and thrust out her chest boldly as if to say, Well?

Qing looked at her and said,

“There really is a reason it has to be precise.”

When you put on false breasts as part of a disguise, you naturally have to emphasize them.

Because if you don’t emphasize them, since you’re wearing them for others to see, you’ll just look like a big-bodied woman in bulky clothes.

Large breasts always ruin the line of the clothes.

So Jin Jangmyeong bunched hers together and showed cleavage.

Her shoulders lifted with sudden self-importance, and despite them being false, confidence gushed out of her like steam.

At that, Qing stretched out her hand—like it was only natural—and grabbed the false breasts.

Of course, since they were fake, Jin Jangmyeong wasn’t startled in the least and instead looked at Qing with bright, expectant eyes.

“How is it?”

“Mm. It’s... something feels off......”

For fake breasts, they were impressive, but—what should she call it—certainly the elasticity? Or maybe the weight? Too squishy, like a water balloon?

Maybe it was because she knew they were fake, but there was definitely that sense of artificialness.

If she didn’t know, would it have felt different?

Is this what they call a Red Illusion Pill effect?

Jin Jangmyeong then squeezed her own chest and tilted her head slightly, as if she too felt the oddness.

Still, from a little girl she had suddenly become a girl with enormous breasts, so she seemed thoroughly satisfied. Except—

Cheon Yuhak poured cold water on it.

“Didn’t I tell you? The best disguise is switching gender.”

****

A pair that looked like siblings walked through the market.

Faces similar enough to be mistaken for brother and sister.

In truth, the only part that looked alike were their thick, identically painted eyebrows, yet strangely enough that alone gave the impression of a close resemblance.

The only unusual point was that the older sister was tall and strapping like a man, while the younger brother was much shorter.

They were Qing and Jin Jangmyeong in disguise.

Qing wore the guise of a sharp, intelligent woman who looked as though she worked in some great trading company.

Jin Jangmyeong was every inch the young master of a wealthy family.

Her hair braided into a single plait tied with a white band like a boy’s, with a yeongungeon sash at her waist.

Her chin firmed to give her jawline definition, the space between her brows built up with paste and raised into a straight line extending down to the tip of her nose.

And with a large scar plastered onto her cheek, there was not a trace left of a girl—she had become a clean-cut little young master.

Only her face wore a deeply sulky expression.

Anyone who saw would think, Wow, she’s in a foul mood.

“Why do you look like that?”

“Don’t know.”

“Is it because I wouldn’t let you wear earrings? Hey, should we go look at earrings then? If you wear something unique, wouldn’t that be fine?”

Jin Jangmyeong shook her head.

“If I wear them while disguised as a boy, I won’t be able to later. What if someone with really sharp eyes notices?”

“Aw, even if they had sharp eyes, would they catch on just from earrings?”

“If there’s even the slightest risk, I don’t want to.”

“Mm. Jangmyeong, you are pretty wise......”

What she meant was: If there’s even the slightest chance it could put Qing in danger, she doesn’t want it.

But Qing didn’t take it that way.

She just thought, Look at this little thing, worrying so much about her own safety. What a scaredy-cat.

Words must be precise to be understood.

Cheon Yuhak said he would go find a detailed map and left them.

He told them to use false names and make their faces known a little, and at the same time to gather some rumors about Mount Lao.

Eh? Where are we supposed to ask? Would we find anything suspicious just going around asking?

The mountain folk would know, wouldn’t they? Start by inquiring at the herbal shops.

Of course, even Cheon Yuhak didn’t really expect them to bring back solid information.

It was just a trick: make their false names known in Jimo so that even if grudges formed, people would chase the wrong tracks.

Qing was duly impressed.

Wow, you need to be this sharp to be a Divine Thief? Maybe it’s fine if I’m the next one. Or maybe I should just pick up some smart kid and pass the mantle straight on.

Anyway.

Qing’s alias was as good as decided.

So Qing went poking around an herbal shop.

“Welcome! Ah, esteemed customer. What are you looking for?”

She wore fine clothes and, more than that, perched a costly pair of spectacles right on her sharp nose.

Spectacles (aeche) were made by grinding glass or crystal, extremely expensive and rare.

Of course, unlike in Qing’s homeland where they were made to prescription, here you just picked whichever piece the craftsman had made that seemed best.

And hers were fake, just flat-cut glass. But still, expensive!

And then at her side was a noble-looking young master.

At the sight of wealthy customers, the shopkeeper rushed out in person.

“I’d like to see some ginseng.”

“Ahh, so you’ve come for ginseng! What kind are you looking for? Right now we have good stock of Goryeo ginseng shipped over from the east.”

“Not dried. Don’t you have fresh? Something that’s taken in Mount Lao’s essence, lively and crisp.”

“Ah, don’t even mention it. The mountain men can’t get into the mountains right now, so Mount Lao’s medicines have completely dried up.”

“Then no poria, no atractylodes either?”

“Yes, yes. We have some dried, but you won’t find fresh anywhere at the moment.”

“Tch. What a mess. I came up from Namnyeong because they say Mount Lao’s ginseng is the best.”

Jin Jangmyeong quickly chimed in as if to reassure.

“Namnyeong! Elder Sister, surely this isn’t the only herbal shop in Jimo. Let us look elsewhere.”

...Jangmyeong. Didn’t you drop your voice a little too low?

It sounds obviously put on.

And the way you unnaturally overemphasized the name—how suspicious.

Qing winced, but the herbalist didn’t think anything of it.

Anyway, they wandered the market, going from herbal shop to herbal shop, eating skewers, fruit skewers, various sweets and rice cakes, and—oh, fishcake! Hm? What the—actual fishcake?

What does that mean? Fake fishcake?

But Central Plains fishcake was a specialty of Hubei Province, where Divine Lady’s Gate was, with over three thousand years of history as a luxury food.

Freshwater fish meat and pork were finely ground, mixed with eggs and starch, made into a paste and steamed—the Central Plains’ fishcake.

Not quite the flavor Qing imagined. Too refined, maybe? Still, very tasty.

But the ones sold in the market stalls?

They had the taste of home, suddenly rising—ah.

Yes, sometimes you need this cheap flavor.

Forget the herbalists and information-gathering. She needed to eat this nostalgic fishcake right now.

“No soup, just the solids—twenty bowls’ worth, please.”

“Eh? Did you say twenty just now?”

“Twenty. Here’s the money, now hurry it up.”

The vendor’s face brightened at selling so much in one go.

It would have been nice if they were curly fishcakes, but sadly Central Plains fishcake came only sliced into thin tofu-like squares or boiled into bite-sized balls. Nothing to be done.

“Uh, Elder Sister? Are you really going to eat all that, yourself?”

“You try it too. It’s delicious. Seriously.”

“This?!”

Anyway, the whole purpose of their market trip shifted into a street-snack expedition.

Qing’s wholehearted eating was a rare spectacle in the Central Plains, where there weren’t many amusements.

Even in Qing’s homeland, the custom of eating as entertainment hadn’t been around for long, so this was like leaping ahead of the times.

Naturally, passersby stopped to watch.

A beautiful young lady of scholarly air sat with bowl after bowl of fishcake lined up, stuffing steaming pieces into her mouth, cheeks bulging as she chewed.

And spectators always draw more spectators.

What, did the stall catch fire?

Is this place famous for something?

And then, Good heavens, is that woman just devouring fishcake? And she’s gorgeous!

Jin Jangmyeong was clearly uncomfortable with all the eyes.

She clutched Qing’s sleeve and tugged insistently. Let’s go.

But Qing didn’t budge.

If not now, when would she eat this again?

And so the fishcake bowls rapidly diminished.

The spectators found it more and more amazing.

Could this woman really eat all twenty?

The bowls dwindled.

The onlookers swallowed unconsciously.

When a beauty devours food, it looks bountiful, so people thought, Maybe I’ll have a bowl too.

And when Qing popped the last piece into her mouth, applause and cheers rang out.

Qing raised both arms high, answering their enthusiasm with a cry of victory.

“I am! None other than! Eon Yeonyeong! The Carnivorous Madwoman who destroys every dish in this world! That is me, Eon Yeonyeong!”

Carnivorous Madwoman? Crazy about meat? But why fishcake?

Come on, fish is meat too. Fish meat is still meat.

At that moment—

“Shopkeeper! Ten more bowls over here!”

The Carnivorous Madwoman’s shocking declaration!

The crowd gasped.

Twenty bowls already, and now ten more?

But silence lasted only a moment. Then—Waaahhh!!! The crowd erupted.

“Carnivorous Madwoman!” “Eon Yeonyeong!” “Carnivorous Madwoman!”

In truth, each bowl didn’t contain that much.

Converted into Qing’s homeland’s standard measures, it was maybe twenty koburi.

Forty koburi of fishcake—twenty koburi wasn’t such a hard feat for her.

It was just a bit heavy...

But with a crowd gathered, why not use the chance to spread the name further?

So while Qing stuffed down more fishcake—

“You there, young lady. Did you say Eon Yeonyeong? How about eating something proper instead of this cheap trash? To really say you’ve been to Jimo, you need to enjoy a fine banquet at Jimo’s lord’s residence.”

...What now?

Qing turned her head to see some swaggering man with a sword on his hip—and behind him, several more men, all smiling at her.

Well, even eating feats need the right setting.

And Jimo was already full of treasure-hunters lurking about.

Even with makeup and a bent nose, the beauty of the most likely World’s Number One Beauty couldn’t be hidden.

And without visible weapons, she looked defenseless.

It would be stranger if pests didn’t swarm.

Qing stared at the man who barged into her event.

What now?

He was fairly handsome, the kind who had surely made women cry before.

Which is why he approached so confidently.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m already getting full.”

“Come now, Lady Eon, don’t act so pricey.”

Qing’s brow twitched.

Lady? On a first meeting?

She was ready to crush his balls.

In Qing’s homeland, Lady (nangja) was a term you used when you were more than friends but not yet lovers—some kind of ambiguous in-between.

Friends were just sojeo. Lovers called each other all sorts of saccharine nicknames, attaching animals and such.

So the narrow range for Lady was just that middle stage.

“Thank you, but how could I follow some stranger man I don’t even know? Please don’t say such indecent things.”

“Strangers, you say? That’s hurtful.”

“Then are we acquaintances? I’ve never seen you before.”

“Come now. If you know my name and face, aren’t we acquainted? I am Pounsel, elder of the Seven Heroes of West Lake. Now we know each other, don’t we?”

Qing waited a moment.

One. Two.

No big exclamations, so he wasn’t very famous, but with her transcendent hearing she caught the whispers—Seven Dogs of West Lake, Lustful Pa Ssi.

Nicknames among the heretics were never what they claimed.

Usually the world tacked on a different character—devil, dog, pig, barbarian, slave.

“I didn’t really want to know, but fine. Now could you step aside?”

“Why so cold? Don’t play hard to get. Just one drink, eh?”

“Liquor in broad daylight?”

“Then we can drink until night, can’t we?”

“Sorry, but I have business. Excuse me.”

“Now, now.”

And then he reached out and grabbed Qing’s wrist.

Qing rejoiced inwardly.

This bastard touched me first.

So she readied to swing and teach him manners—

“Enough!”

Every gaze turned—Qing’s, Jin Jangmyeong’s, Pounsel’s, the crowd’s.

A figure stood, face hidden, with twin swords crossed on his back.

A martial artist.

Pounsel released Qing’s wrist and brought his hand to his hilt.

Qing tilted her head.

Something about the posture felt oddly familiar, and the voice—hadn’t she heard it before?