Chapter 542: Hanga Yoran (2)

Qing blinked once, then again.

“Eh.”

So what she was saying was—she’d stolen clothes that someone else had painstakingly hand-crafted for her lover, even preparing the raw materials herself, and then gifted them to Qing?

Ah, shit.

No wonder it had felt tight in the middle and down below—it wasn’t just the underwear’s fault!

That damned Nyonyeong, terrifying bitch that she was. She’d deliberately prepared smaller undergarments and tricked her clean. Qing had thought it was just the underwear being snug since the outer garment fit fine, but it had all been a setup.

“You, you—! Take it off this instant!”

“Ah, yes. It wasn’t my intention, you know? She just handed it to me, so I put it on. Just wait a moment, I’ll take it off right now—”

“I don’t need it!”

Seop Simmahee screamed at the top of her lungs.

“You’d dare present clothes another woman already wore as a gift? You! You think that makes sense!?”

Her face was wet with angry tears, making her look both resentful and wretched.

Qing scratched at her head awkwardly. ...This was starting to feel kind of bad.

But then—wait. Why should she feel bad?

It wasn’t like she’d stolen the clothes out of spite or greed. She was a victim here, too!

Qing shot a venomous glare at Eonyeon-yeong.

But that one just stood there, beaming with delight, looking for all the world like she was about to burst out laughing.

“Damn it, what are you all doing!? Kill her right now—no, don’t kill her, seize her alive and drag her before me so I can carve her up piece by piece!”

Clatter!

The doors of the guest rooms flanking the corridor banged open, and people poured out in a rush.

Qing’s mind spun swiftly.

Could she break through? Not the corridor—that was suicide. Then... the window. She’d already studied the layout of two rooms. If she bored through the wall and leapt out the window, she could escape. She was about to move when—

What was this?

The people blocking the hall radiated no hostility whatsoever.

“What are you waiting for!? Kill that bitch already!”

But no one reacted.

They just stood there, blank-faced, blocking the passage and staring.

“Eon-unni?”

“Oh my, ‘unni’? Why call me that? You’re free to use what you usually do—corpse-fondling whore, stinking hag, revolting bitch. Or was it ‘filthy cadaver-playing slut’? That was it, wasn’t it?”

“Wh-what?”

“One should handle one’s own business, shouldn’t one?”

Eonyeon-yeong stepped back a pace. Then, with a sweet smile, she said to Qing:

“This young lady is Seop Simmahee, Yu-ryang, from the Demon Sect’s Demon King’s Household. Ah, though, that’s just what Sik Simma-gun calls it on his own. Most people call them the Sik Sim Faction.”

Qing’s brow twitched.

“Sik Simma-gun? That bastard who makes those blood ghouls?”

“Strictly speaking, they’re called Blood Fiends. A fool of an old man who does nothing but spawn monsters that devour human hearts—yet dares compare them to jiangshi. Utterly deluded. And this girl here happens to be his one and only daughter.”

“You! You, who only fondles corpses, how dare you speak of my father that way! Who do you think you are—!”

Yu-ryang shrieked.

But Qing’s mind had already flashed back—to Guangdong, the Jin Family Manor.

Blood Fiends.

Foul abominations that violated even the bonds of blood.

A son who devoured his own mother’s heart—one of the most horrific scenes of feasting in the world.

And the frail mother’s fading voice, her dimming eyes, still protecting the child who was eating her alive...

That a man who created such monsters even had a daughter?

That such a man had a wife, someone he cherished? That he would care for his own child?

Like a drop of ink spreading in water, Qing’s eyes filled with a dark and baleful hue.

A suffocating killing intent spread, making Mahee, who had faltered, recoil in terror—yet she still forced her fear down and screamed again.

“Wh-what’s wrong with her!? Yul-no, what are you doing!?”

Before the words finished, a scarlet aura crashed forth.

A pale hand intercepted Qing’s blade with a ringing clang—no, not even a tremor as the steel dagger struck her forearm.

Yul-no—Yeon Yul’s—expression stiffened visibly.

“Ma-ma, run!”

With a desperate cry, she slashed both daggers in a storm of crimson light.

A dense net of murderous qi surged toward Qing.

But the weave split apart in the middle, unable to converge. Steel rang against steel again and again in a long cascade of clanging.

Qing took one step back. Then two. Then three.

She retreated slowly, sweeping her arms.

Her back pressed to the dressing room door—but such a paper screen could never impede her. Crack—she toppled it effortlessly, like it was nothing at all.

Yul-no, was it?

Who named their child “Yul-no”?

“No” was for slaves—so “Yul-no” meant “slave Yul.”

That Qing could be musing such thoughts showed how relaxed she truly was.

Yes—she was relaxed.

The opponent was fast, but only that.

Not even all that fast.

The attacks were feather-light; every time Qing parried, the daggers shuddered and bounced wide.

The spectacle was noisy, but the dozens of strikes hadn’t left so much as a bruise.

The reason Qing kept backing up was simple.

Noise drew eyes.

Already heads had poked out of guest rooms. She’d even glimpsed that fat sow Povidon’s greasy head—proof enough that the leech-like hunters sniffing out energy-draining arts were swarming the place.

So she had to fight out of sight, finish fast, and return.

But what was this?

Was this supposed to be sword-qi?

It wasn’t heavy enough for true qi reinforcement, nor sharp enough for pure blade-energy. It lingered in some strange in-between.

Qi, no matter how light or refined, carried weight.

Condensed power pressed like a hammer, weighing the weapon far heavier than steel alone.

But this... this had no weight.

And yet, its edge was sharp enough to rival genuine qi.

Weightless sharpness—that only worked against soft, weak targets.

Sure enough, Yeon Yul’s daggers were losing bite with each clash.

Against Qing’s flesh, toughened by her quasi-Diamond Body, the blades dulled and chipped.

Suddenly, Qing’s right hand twisted unnaturally.

Like a serpent—or a centipede with countless joints—like a loose rope writhing on the floor. Boneless, wriggling.

An illusion born of her mastery of the Shadowless Divine Hand fused with the perfected training of Flowing Ripple.

Her fingers writhed like worms, then clamped tight around Yul-no’s neck.

“Khuk! Ghhk...!”

Qing lifted her.

Yul-no’s feet kicked in the air, flailing helplessly.

Then—

Pook.

That familiar, filthy sensation of steel plunging in.

Qing glanced down.

A dagger jutting through Yul-no’s own belly had skewered into Qing’s right breast.

It missed the heart, but it was still a deadly strike.

“Gyaaah!”

Qing screamed and flung Yul-no aside.

Thud, clatter—she crashed down.

Qing clutched her chest, sinking to the floor.

Her fine handmade robes blossomed red across the breast as she thought grimly:

Damn it, another hole. I should just carve out this cursed chest and be done with it. Hurts like hell.

In truth, her protective qi had long since reached the level of unconscious reaction.

Like the North Sea warriors running Heart-Guard Arts even in their sleep, Qing’s body raised its guard without thought.

Qi seeped into bone and muscle—and the pectorals were among the hardest muscles of all.

“Ahh... Don’t tell the enemy of my death. No, wait, uhm... yeah, I knew it would end like this if I kept dawdling...”

With a suspiciously plagiarized last line, Qing collapsed to the ground.

The wound throbbed as it rubbed raw, and she couldn’t stop a real cry from slipping out—but it only made her feigned death more convincing.

Opposite her, Yul-no lay with her waist half-severed, vomiting blood and shredded entrails.

“Cough! Ghhhk! Ma-ma...?”

“I did it! I defeated the Celestial Flower Sword! Heehee! Now Master will—heehee!”

Simmahee Yu-ryang cheered in delight.

“Ma-ma, help me, save me...”

“Huh? How could I?”

Perhaps her question was fair.

With half her body gone, no medicine in the Central Plains could save Yul-no.

But for the one who had cut her in half to say such a thing... a bit rich.

“Khuk... please...”

“Even so, it looks hopeless...”

Yu-ryang glanced at Qing.

Then, oddly, swallowed.

“Ma-ma?”

“Yul-no’s going to die anyway, right? I’ll make it easy for her.”

“Ma-ma, wai—cough, gghhhk!”

Qing lay there, eyes closed, a corpse in all but truth.

It was a convincing act, one of the Central Plains’ many martial techniques: the Ghostly Death Method.

A “just playing dead” trick, yet it bore a grand name as one of the land’s secret arts.

From Qing’s perspective as a trained physician, Yu-ryang’s method was radical.

The root of pain? Life. Because one lived, one suffered.

So—destroy life.

Yu-ryang’s hand plunged into Yul-no’s chest.

The dying woman clutched her mistress’s wrist, but with her core destroyed she had no strength left.

Yu-ryang’s fingers fumbled delicately among the ribs and wrenched out a heart.

Yul-no coughed blood as her entrails spilled.

Watching, Qing could only lament.

Why did evil never miss its mark?

Couldn’t she once judge for herself whether someone deserved to die?

But this—this was just grotesque. Why take out the heart? Oh no, oh no—ugh. And then, why stuff it straight in your mouth? Christ.

“Why eat it raw? Couldn’t you at least grill it? Ugh. God, my stomach...”

“W-w-what!”

Yu-ryang jolted like a startled cat.

Her lower face was drenched in gore.

“You! How—? I felt it, I felt the blade pierce a heart!”

“It didn’t.”

“No! It hit something solid—it had to be the heart!”

“Well, if you insist... sure. You’re right. My heart got stabbed. Ow, hurts real bad.”

“Hah! I knew it! I knew it!”

“Tch.”

Qing clicked her tongue.

What was this? Was the girl stupid?

Maybe gnawing hearts had rotted her brain.

“But—if your heart was pierced, how are you standing there so fine? Ah, aah! I see it now!”

What? See what? Why keep people hanging like this?

“You—you bitch! You’re a jiangshi too, aren’t you! A human can’t survive a pierced heart! Of course! That reeking corpse-fondler betrayed us! I knew she was suspicious all along!”

“Mm.”

Qing only murmured.

“Wh-what? Why are you looking at me like that...!?”