Chapter 499: Karma Drips Along the Thread of Life and Death (1)

Qing saw the world with her skin.

If there were creatures with a similar sense, insects came closest, so calling it bug-like wouldn’t be wrong.

Either way, this knack of reading space by the flow of air widened the more skin touched the air. It wasn’t “understanding fluid dynamics” so much as a stack of unconscious experience; the more familiar the space, the more the experience seared into her unconscious, the sharper it became.

So if someone appeared out of nowhere and whispered in her ear?

No hint of breath or footstep, as if the approach itself were skipped and a presence simply pressed tight against her back.

Of course that brought the fear to match.

That was why Qing locked up.

How? What kind of ghost...?

“Oh my, why are you so stiff?”

“Uh, I, um, there’s been a misunderstanding—I did borrow a name a little, but, uh, you could call it...mutual consent? Nyonyeong will probably understand...”

“Oh? You know me? Mmm. And who might you be?”

“—”

Only then did Qing place that soft, silken voice curling around her ear.

Ah hell. Final boss.

Why pop up now of all times.

Starry knife-edges that once filled a cabin, countless blades of Guardian Qi, skimmed her mind. If I buck, I die.

Strong to the weak, weak to the strong—Qing folded at once into a crouching dog.

“I—I’m sorry...”

“Oh dear, all curled up like that. How cute. If you do that, even I start to soften. Now. Were you wrong, or not?”

“I was wrong...”

A tinkling, elegant laugh.

For a moment, Qing saw hope.

“But.”

If malice itself had a voice, it would be this—honeyed and sticky.

“Why did you do it if you knew it was wrong?”

“Hk.”

“You shouldn’t, right?”

“I—I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“If it’s something to be sorry for, shouldn’t you have not done it in the first place? Tell me. Why did you?”

“I—I’m sor—hk.”

Something cool touched the nape of her neck; Qing sucked air.

“I’ve already heard ‘sorry.’ I’m just curious. Why did you?”

“I—it just slipped out. Urgent situation. No hard feelings toward you, really. It rolled off the tongue, before I knew it...”

“Mmm...”

Warm breath kept feathering her ear.

Frozen, she only rolled her eyes.

“What you said before—what did you call that ‘divine art’ you announced...?”

Qing glimpsed hope again.

She wants the Absorbing Qi Demonic Art.

“Heh-heh. If you want, I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you right now, I’ll rec—urk.”

Pressure needled into her nape; Qing snapped her mouth shut.

“That very bewitching—what do people call such an art... Ah. Right. The Art of the Stripping Immortal. That’s what you said. Oh, could I hear what that cute little sex-art actually is?”

Qing’s vision went dark.

Shit. She caught me.

“Heh-heh, it’s called the Art of the Stripping Immortal.”

“Oh my. My, my. That’s a rather elegant divine art.”

“If you—if you want—”

“Good. Then let’s do this.”

“H-how?”

Another impish chuckle.

“Now. You’re going to present that splendid divine art to the fine people fighting here. They’ll just love it. And you’re going to accept every request from every gallant here, without leaving a single one out. How does that sound?”

Just hearing it blew gooseflesh.

“Um, is there...another way...?”

“Of course. There’s another way. Inside, oh—aren’t there faces I know? Juhee, and that Sword-Fool brother? There were others I didn’t, but still.”

Qing’s heart dropped like a stone.

Her knees buckled and she leaned without meaning to; sweat slicked her all over.

No. Don’t you dare.

“No. Of course not. If I ruined the fun this early, where would the pleasure be?”

Being dragged up from the pit must feel like this.

Qing exhaled relief—barely.

Only the pounding of her heart kept thudding at her ribs as its echo.

“So, Peerless Thunder-Smile Girl—hehe—you decide. Hand me your four friends and I might let you go just like this. Or else you can bring joy to every single person here with that body of yours. Now then. I’m going to count to three, and you’ll have to decide. If you don’t, we’ll do both. One.”

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it, just please—”

“Oh my. Already fun. But remember: I said everyone here. If some don’t cooperate, you’ll have to take your joy by force. All right?”

Numb, Qing nodded and nodded, like someone not all there.

“Now. Since you might die, this will sting for a moment. Sting.”

A sharp prick to her nape.

Qing snapped awake.

No. No. Focus.

Even when the sky collapses there’s a crack to slip through—no idea how a safe zone exists when the sky’s falling, but think. Think.

There has to be a way. A way.

She hunted for it like her life depended on it.

She could do as told.

She could—but even if she did, would this monstrous woman really let her go?

She’d said severed tendons, smashed bones, flaying, burning—all of it.

It was a gut-deep certainty.

Qing wound her mind tighter and tighter.

Wound—and?

Suddenly—haa—an exhale with relief brushed her ear, and careful hands circled her waist.

“Oh my. Goodness. Seo Mun. You scared me. I figured you were alive somewhere, but to show up like this—how naughty.”

“Huh.”

“No wonder—curled up so small, so cute—it reminded me of you. I was only going to give you a little punishment.”

Qing realized how the same voice could feel so different.

Where the earlier tone had been nothing but malice, this one was soft and warm, tinged—yes—with affection.

Arms locked around her waist; Eon Yeonyeong nuzzled her face into Qing’s nape.

Qing let out a long breath of relief.

This one? Might let me off, generous-like?

“Um, Eon?”

“Oh my, ‘Eon’? Just a moment ago you called me Nyonyeong. Hehe, yes. You were right, Seo Mun. My, my. How could I blame you, then? ‘Peerless Thunder-Smile Girl’? Oh my. How embarrassing. But—I like it.”

“N-Nyonyeong? If you let me go now—”

“No.”

A flat refusal.

“Th-then you want me to stay like this?”

“No. You have to be punished.”

“You just said you wouldn’t blame me.”

“And that mouth of yours pops right back to life. Honestly. Seo Mun, I don’t mind you hawking my name all over the place. But.”

But? Qing swallowed.

“You hid who you were and put on that big swagger and those antics, didn’t you? If that mask came off, wouldn’t you want to die of shame? Ahh, just imagining it makes me want to laugh. How could I hold myself back?”

“Could you...try?”

“No. I like you as you are: usually proud—and sometimes, like a cringing little bitch on the outside while sharpening a knife on the inside. So don’t hide yourself like that. Proud or cringing, you’re still Seo Mun. You can be underhanded, but not a coward. I don’t like a cowardly Seo Mun.”

“Then I won’t do it anymore—”

“Oh? Saying something you don’t mean? You’ll do it again, won’t you?”

Damn it. That won’t fly.

What a ghost—truly a ghost.

Qing clicked her tongue inside.

“And Seo Mun—I’ve got kids to protect, too. Just like you protect your friends. So I can’t just let this slide.”

“Then?”

“So I have no choice. You’re going to suffer a little.”

“What kind of suffering? Can I hear it first?”

“Like this.”

Thud. A stomp—a loud one.

Her body lifted; a blink later she was in the air, high enough to look down on everyone.

Qing glanced down. A strange upright casket stood beneath her feet; she was standing on its lid.

“Everyone? Could you stop fighting for a moment? You need to listen to me.”

Gentle voice.

Yet, somehow, everyone froze and tilted their heads up at once.

Cold ran down Qing’s spine again.

Come to think of it, she’d been held this way for quite a while.

Time had passed with someone hugging her from behind—so how had no one interrupted?

As if no one could see them. As if they were in another space.

“You! Peerless Thunder-Smile Girl!”

Seeing Qing appear—propped by a woman behind her—Jung Gichung roared.

Those inside hadn’t noticed anything odd.

But the fighters outside all swiveled on him with suspicious eyes.

Peerless Thunder-Smile Girl? That? A pet name? That’s the Jeollak Fortress Holy Lord’s taste?

Blood flushed Jung Gichung’s face; he ground his teeth and glared daggers at Qing.

“You—Eon Yeonyeong—I’ll never forgive you...”

Qing was aggrieved.

Why pin this on me?

Then—snap—a finger-flick cut through the murk and set the air in order.

“Now then. Everyone. I am Eon Yeonyeong—formerly a covert inspector for the Martial Alliance and head of the Eon Clan of Jinju, currently of the Blood Sect.”

“Carnivorous Madwoman!” “Carnivorous Madwoman!”

Eon Yeonyeong tipped her head.

“Oh? So there was another impersonator, too? And who might that be?”

“H-ha. Th-a-t. I’m su-per cu-ri-ous, too.”

Qing laughed along, stiff.

“Mmm,” Eon trilled, as if deciding not to care.

“And this person I’m holding had the gall to pass herself off as me. I thought I should clear up a big misunderstanding you all seem to have about me.”

Those inside the grotto understood at once.

What lunatic woman would ever call herself “Peerless Thunder-Smile Girl,” “greatest lady,” and the rest?

Then her eyes cooled as she looked up at Qing—looked up, yet somehow looked down.

A gaze heavy with contempt. The kind of look that made you want to scream, Don’t look at me like that.

“And she is also the owner of the Absorbing Qi Demonic Art (Saljungsal). She sowed discord among you to make you brawl, intending to sneak off alone.”

The fighters outside lifted their faces the same way—cold now, too.

Looked up like looking down; this time the contempt was thick.

“Now. Aren’t you curious who she really is? This woman wearing a Human-Skin Mask—who is she?”

“Right!” “Strip the mask!” “Who is that vile bitch!” “Reveal her! Reveal her!”

Petitions bubbled like a boil.

Sweat streamed down Qing’s back.

“Hey, Nyonyeong? You said a little suffering—a little, right? Why does this feel like a public execution—”

“Shh.”

Eon Yeonyeong’s hand stroked the back of Qing’s neck; Qing’s mouth sealed like a carp.

The hand that had been gently rubbing the mask-smooth nape slid down like a snake, stroking along the tight wrap of unbleached cloth.

“Nyonyeong? Th-this is kind of sexual harass—ah, wait, not there... Hey, that’s over the line—”

Her fingers drew a circle over a firmer spot.

Qing jolted and squirmed.

“Easy. You’ll get hurt.”

“Yup.”

Fingers slipped under the sternum.

Quietly they climbed. The crushing pressure under her breasts loosened and rose away.

“H-hey, wait!”

“It’s a waste to hide something this splendid.”

Sploosh. People swore they heard it.

Because where her chest had been flat, heavy flesh swelled up and filled its place—a miracle in plain view.

Cool, clean relief flooded her freed chest; at the same time, cold sweat poured.

Because the fingers that had snipped her chest wrap now traced the lower edge of the Human-Skin Mask at her collarbones, rubbing, teasing.

“Um? Nyonyeong? Seriously, no. You said a little suffering—‘a little’ means little, tiny, teensy, you know? I—hey! Please, please!”

Qing’s voice climbed, urgent.

It was as if the fingers had blades; they split mask-skin upward, and cool air sluiced down to the hollow of her throat.

Air at last; sweat-swollen skin sighed. But this was no time to savor freshness.

“Could you spare me, just once? I won’t survive this. I’ll die. I might actually die of shame. I’ll die. Seo Cheong will die.”

Truth was, Qing was the one who’d done the shameful thing to start with.

She’d run wild with someone else’s name. How rotten was that?

Images of the things she’d done as Eon Yeonyeong flickered past. If word rolled through the martial world—Master, kids, our Divine Lady’s Gate disciples, the elders of the Alliance, the whole Seol Trading lot...

Darkness rimmed her sight.

No. Absolutely not. Better death. How would I ever show my face?

This is karma—the right law of deeds returning.

As you sow, so shall you reap.