Chapter 564: Recuperation Trip (9)

“My lady, if you keep doing this—when will we even meet again? Heee...”

Oh? Acting cute?

To others she plays the adult; maybe as rebound, only in front of Qing does Moyong Juhee act like a child.

Truthfully, she was teary, truly reluctant and heartsore about parting.

Tell her not to go and she looked ready to run away from home and chase us.

But Moyong Seongik had whispered that the true power of the Moyong clan lies in “sword-left, saber-right.”

Sword in the left hand, saber in the right—dazzling swordplay that scatters pert moonlight, paired with saber method that drops straight and honest like the sun’s rays.

Until now, Moyong Juhee herself refused the saber—after all, a saber isn’t “ladylike” as a weapon;

and if she rebuilt her body, muscle might pack only the right side, leaving her lopsided—a disaster.

So she substituted with a similar straight sword and used saber methods with a sword—using them as true twin-blade work.

But now that she’d reached super-transcendent, it was precisely time to complete the clan’s secret of sword-left, saber-right.

Call it special instruction for the super-transcendent.

So Qing had no choice.

“We can travel together anytime, right? At important times, you train hard.”

“...Yes.”

Her shoulders drooped—clearly unwilling. Qing, with a sigh—no helping it—spread her arms to stoke her spirit.

Given Qing’s condition, Moyong Juhee eased into her embrace carefully. Qing whispered at her ear:

“No slacking. Work hard. If you achieve something... perhaps I’ll grant a reward.”

Gulp.

A big swallow from Moyong Juhee.

Judging by her face, her pupils seemed to whirl—was that motivation or the opposite?

Her mouth went slack—ah, drool.

Is this okay? Did I make her dumber?

But then, beneath the dense curls, a firm resolve rose—seems it landed properly.

Truth is, Qing didn’t even know what the “reward” was.

What would count as a reward for Lady Moyong?

She had that odd fixation on rewards and punishments; the hope was only that this would make her grind.

A steady gaze then settled on Qing.

The watermelon lady—no, Lady Sima.

To others, a fierce beauty glaring with stored-up resentment;

Qing only smiled and held out her arms.

“Lady Sima, a farewell hug?”

“Heh—an invitation to a gentleman’s rivalry as worthy opponents? Of course, Ximen lady still has far to go. Not a child—we hardly need to hug! But—very well, Sima shall indulge such childish play.”

For all her words, she sped up mid-sentence, lest Qing change her mind; her shoulders bobbed with glee as her steps quickened.

Yeah—this one looked friendless too.

Truth be told, barring the bizarre speech, Sima Chunbong’s reputation was surprisingly broad and good.

If only she didn’t end every line with “you lesser folk,” she actually liked helping people—yet for the same reason she was “a good person you don’t want too close.”

They hugged.

For the first time since leaving home, Qing felt a heavy, dense pressure—an unfamiliar sense of being overwhelmed by mass.

Hee-mae is formidable too, but she’s soft; Qing is the one doing the pressing there.

Why so firm and heavy?

Watermelon—definitely watermelon.

Not seeing it with my own eyes will be a regret for the ages.

“By the way, don’t think I’ll remain defeated forever. Hmph! Next we meet, Sima will be the foremost authority on the Central Plains’ sorcery. Prepare to rub your eyes and greet the future grand authority. Heh.”

“I’m going to ask the Kunlun Sect, so you don’t have to.”

“Ohoho. Heavenly Flower Sword, drunk on the sweetness of a brief victory, seeks the heretic path? Silencing Sima was no doubt the most thrilling moment of your life. But twice? Never. Heh.”

She’d told us to ask anything, then burned with chagrin over not knowing—fine, let her.

If the Martial Alliance has anyone versed in sorcery besides Kunlun, all the better—no reason to stop her.

Thus, with the two seeing them off, Qing’s party’s carriage clip-clopped onto the road.

Destination: Hubei.

In Hubei, the most famous sect is, of course, Taiji Wudang—the Wudang Sect.

Divine Lady’s Gate is “famous” only as a women’s mystical sect; ask commoners to name one of its arts right now and—

Unless they guess “Divine Lady’s Sword” because Divine Lady’s Gate—maybe one out of a hundred would answer.

These days, six or seven out of ten shout it out at once:

“I know! Heavenly Flower Sword! Moon Maiden Sword!”

Naturally, wrong.

Still, “youngest super-transcendent orthodox dragon,” and “that woman’s beauty is extraordinary”—rumors carry that much weight.

On top of that, Divine Lady’s Gate had suddenly become land-rich lately; with generous terms, tenant farmers flocked in, and several hamlets sprang up.

This is typical of dominant regional sects with absolute local support—and a main method of winning hearts.

Thus the neighboring Wudang can’t help but watch Divine Lady’s Gate’s aggressive expansion with some—no, much—concern.

Is the Heaven-Piercing Sword Wang Juhee truly eyeing Hubei’s hegemony?

Everyone knows Heaven-Piercing Sword is Yeo Gwanggyeon’s puppet; is this Yeo Gwanggyeon’s design?

What—do they mean to found some legendary “women’s country,” a topsy-turvy realm where men are slaves?

In truth, current Sect Master Heaven-Piercing Sword Wang Juhee has no such thoughts.

The land expanded so suddenly she’d never managed such acreage nor had people to manage it; she’d simply entrusted it entirely to a guild run by her younger-sister-friend of the Seol Trading Company.

So she has no idea the Divine Lady’s tenant farmers believe in a strange new Divine Lady legend and bow to a deity that doesn’t exist in the bandit’s roll:

That the Divine Lady Yohi’s daughter has incarnated, succeeding her grandfather the Flame Emperor—wielding sun and moon.

For the record, the characters for sun 日 and moon 月 together form ming 明—holy fire.

Hence sun-worship, fire-worship, Bright Sect, Sun-and-Moon Divine Sect, New Sect, Demon Sect—names of a similar sort.

In any case, thanks to that, Axe-Handle County was shooting up by the day; once just the first ferry on the Yangtze handling logistics, the small city now saw a new building every night’s sleep, a new street every two—miraculous growth in real time.

A true Yangtze miracle!

And Qing’s destination within Hubei? The Jegal clan—within Hubei itself!

Hubei runs long east to west; the great family that holds the eastern hegemony is the Jegal house.

Above all, waterways run wide to Anhui’s Hefei and Jiangsu’s Nanjing to the east—

So Namgung Sinjae and Gongsun Yoye could travel the same route home.

Thus—Wuhan, Hubei. The Jegal estate.

“Gaga!”

“Huh?”

Qing’s eyes went round.

What’s this—an extremely cute creature incoming.

A clear, bright look; a round face; tiny limbs flapping adorably.

“Hyang! Oof—”

Forgetting her condition, Qing scooped the child up—and her bones and muscles sang in chorus, throbbing!

Her breath caught; cold sweat poured—but it’s fine, I’m fine, I can, I can...!

She forced a smile.

“Gaga? Hehe—Hyang got so heavy! This girl trained her muscles hard. Look—already this much!”

Jegal Hyang rolled up her sleeve and flexed.

An utterly soft arm with no muscle at all.

Why is she folding her arm? Ah, Hyang can fold her arm? Wow, amazing—folding an arm! Do I praise her for folding it well?

What does this signify?

More importantly—between Jegal Hyang’s tiny lips, that gaping hole where the front tooth should be—heavens!

A neat void where the front tooth had been—

This imp had come with her blade sharpened to stab the heart!

How can anything this dangerous to one’s heart exist.

Well—she was simply at the age for baby teeth to fall out.

And that single missing front tooth, paired with her beaming grin, made her look like a perfect doofus—hence doubly, no, ten times cuter.

Thus—the triple stack!

Seol Iri, carrying Qing; Qing, carrying Jegal Hyang—grunted their way across the Jegal compound.

“Put the kid down, at least. You’re not even healed and you’re hugging a big kid...”

Tang Nana, now petty enough to be jealous of a child.

But she’s always had a petty heart—and that heart itself is kind of childish—so perhaps not so strange?

Jegal Hyang’s face dimmed.

“You’re not healed? Gaga—are you hurt?”

“No. Perfectly fine.”

Even with medicine patches stuck to her face—it was hard to say if the child meant it or not.

In truth, Jegal Hyang didn’t know.

Children of the Jegal clan—strategists who worship strength—play rough.

Any time the play-call went out, one of the three rotated through with face patches; she just assumed Qing had taken a spill somewhere.

They paid respects to the clan head.

They met Jegal’s mother—still rugged and brawny.

Jegal’s mother, Hwangbo Ran the Great-Bear Maiden, lit up at the sight of the Iron-Mace Crescent Sabre.

“Hm? Heavenly Flower Sword? What is this? Such a beautiful weapon? To wield this, one must be a giant among giants. The authorities wouldn’t overlook it—so a heretic butcher’s tool, perhaps—ah, I see. Spoils of war? Heavenly Flower Sword is slender yet excellent.”

Do people describe a person as “slender”?

“Mother, no, that’s—”

Jegal Ihyeon leaned to whisper to his mother.

When measuring thickness for these two, the Central Plains’ usual units fail; the closest measure is Hyang.

If one “Jegal Hyang” equals Hyang’s waist thickness—

Then Mother’s forearm alone is one Jegal Hyang.

And Jegal inherited that blood very, very thickly—so mother and son together filled the view though only two stood there.

Suddenly Hwangbo Ran’s eyes flashed!

“In this world, slender or thick isn’t everything. Right—there are such cases. Shame your body isn’t whole.”

Then—wah-ha!—she laughed, bold as thunder.

“It’s been my dream, you know? To lift some weight with a daughter-like girl at my side, toss an iron-mace together, and feel the muscles split into strands by region—what fun.”

“Ah. Yes.”

“My man is so feeble the children all but one turned out puny. You wield that saber well. For men, muscle isn’t everything. First check whether it’s water muscle or the real thing. Ugh—fooled for a moment by puffed-up muscle. Still, he lifted granite for an hour each time to come see me—so cute—oh, what am I saying, shameless—wahahaha!”

Then—smack! smack!—she pounded her son’s back with hearty laughter.

What is this—sudden caning?

Dinner: the Jegal estate threw a grand feast.

“Gaga! Gaga! This too! Can you eat this too!?”

She jabbed with her chopsticks—a whole braised pork belly, uncut.

The layers of belly were perfectly distinct.

Even sliced, that’s three restaurant portions—half a geun at least.

But one mustn’t disappoint Hyang.

Qing clamped onto it—

This is... physically too much... far too little room...

A whole stripe of belly dangling from her mouth, chewing—

Absolutely not a look to show elders at another family’s banquet.

“Good! You eat boldly!”

“Indeed! The girl eats with blessed abundance!”

The Jegal clan’s aesthetic differed from common mortals; the elders couldn’t hide their joy.

Though... their eyes tickled.

What is this sticky, family warmth?

Not sarcasm—truly like they’d smeared honey on my face...

Praise Qing and she never stops.

By the end, even Seol Iri edged away, pretending not to be with her.

They ate well, slept a night.

Jegal Hyang’s sleep habits proved vicious—punching and kicking—oof, urk, ngh—Qing spent a rough night.

It’s fine. A day without sleep is nothing.

A Flower Realm adept can go one night.

Next day, they left the Jegal estate.

“Gaga! Come again!”

“Elder sister, Brother Wu-je— I’ll call on you later!”

They stopped by the Yangtze ferry to see the two off.

“Sword-Friend—when you’re healed, do visit! I’ll sit up all night to talk over Senior Heavenly Martial Emperor’s sword forms. Heh—just imagining it excites me. I absolutely won’t let you sleep.”

Best not set foot in Anhui.

Qing swore it hard.

“Lady Ximen? You must visit sometime. Hm—preferably the fifteenth of the fifth month or the fifteenth of the tenth. No, the fifteenth of the fifth would be best.”

A very specific date.

“Hm? Why—some event then?”

“If not then, it’s too hot or too cold. In the tenth month, storms sometimes lash us; only about ten days in the fifth are pleasantly cool...”

Nanjing is hellishly hot in summer and bitter in winter.

Granted, that’s still better than Qing’s home capital, but to Central Plains folk it’s brutal—regularly named among the cities with the foulest heavenly qi.

“If time allows, I’ll certainly visit.”

“Or I can visit you.”

Gongsun Yoye smiled faintly; the two clasped hands, a tender sight.

Qing was in Tang Nana’s arms, which ruined the picture.

Note: Tang Nana is quite short, Qing tall—ruined further.

Only then did the party turn west.

Home sweet home—Divine Lady’s Gate.