Chapter 566: Recuperation Trip (11)

We ate, then ate fruit, then ate sweets, then ate more fruit—chomp-chomp—and somehow fruit kept materializing from nowhere.

By Qing’s creed—that no dish shall remain on the table—she waged pitched battles with each round of snacks, only for another plate to sidle in. An infinite-snack loop.

What is this, a table that auto-spawns treats?

Of course, the culprits were the Seol Trading Company workers lined up at the dining hall door.

Assigned their turns by a strict performance review, the Trading Company’s new converts were solemnly offering tribute to our Divine Lady, the Sage in the Flesh—the Heavenly Demon Sovereign—descended to the mortal realm.

Qing’s stomach isn’t infinite, and even when she stops at the Company she never stays long, so those at the back of the line fretted.

What if she ascends to Goddess Peak—the sacred mountain of the Celestial Demon Church, the thousand-year faith’s spiritual root and homeland—before our turn?

When exactly Goddess Peak became the Church’s holy mountain, no one can say, but shrines live in the heart anyway.

How could the sun in the sky, the homeland of the meridians, or that fire burning in some shrine-house be the true object of worship?

My faith is in the Sun Mother, the Heavenly Demon Sovereign—the Sage in the Flesh.

The former True Demon (who had her Heaven confiscated) smashed herself against the Central Plains four times and still failed, but our True-Heaven Heavenly Demon Sovereign is conquering that land with breathtaking speed in mere years. The believers’ faith is a miracle, harder than iron.

Surely the Heavenly Demon Sovereign, guaranteeing the Church’s future, is laying out some grand strategy—peering ahead with divine foresight and spreading a dignified chart of our path—

Thus the Heavenly Demon Sovereign spake:

“Oh—right. Seol bastard! What breast size do you like? Preferred size and shape? High-centered? Low? Long and tapered, or round and nicely blown up?”

“Sorry, but at the very least not yours. Do you not know the phrase ‘too much is as bad as too little’? An excessive bosom is a problem. I prefer a woman who knows how to be bashful.”

“What are you babbling about? I just learned a brilliant way to craft breast forms, so I figured I’d make them exactly to your taste. Time you had a chest installed, too.”

“Let’s not speak as if I wanted them. And where would I use the things if I did install them? They should be attached to someone else so I can knead them.”

“See the mood I’m in? Same.”

“Still, stuffing in bolts of silk is bothersome—keeps sagging and changing shape. Business is suspended anyway. Caught the attention of a vicious bastard.”

What breasts have to do with business is beyond anyone—but Qing doesn’t care either way.

“Oh. I opened a new venture you’ll be glad to see. Come take a look before you go.”

“Eh?”

Thus: Axe-Handle County, Bo Yeol Medical Academy.

A grand compound with its gates thrown wide, a faint, fragrant tang of decocted herbs drifting out.

Mm. Why does boiling medicine smell so good?

Makes my mouth water for no reason.

This from Qing—the one who, moments earlier, hadn’t stopped shoveling food, chewing whenever she wasn’t speaking, and sometimes speaking and shoveling at the same time.

Across the clinic trotted a woman physician. Her posture was upright, but something felt off. Each step—left and right—matched with mechanical precision, giving her an uncanny, not-quite-human air.

Qing knows that gait.

“Huh? Rangrang? Isn’t that Rangrang? What are you doing here?”

“Are you my friend, Heavenly Flower Sword? This Rangrang is most pleased to welcome you.”

“What’s with the clinic robes? Studying medicine?”

“It is great fun. Humans become truly miserable in pain. Before that scene, Rangrang, as an omnipotent doctor, experiences a very satisfactory—indeed large—sense of superiority.”

Not what a physician should say.

But Qing sympathizes completely.

Rangrang looked at Qing nestled in Gyeon Pohee’s arms.

“Oh. Very severe injury—are you here for treatment? Excellent. Though Rangrang’s skill is very-very inadequate, I will do my best. First I will incise the lesion and shave the bone. Heavenly Flower Sword, prepare Go. I have one hundred game records for this moment—please choose your favorite number. For reference, this is Rangrang’s first time—first procedure. My heart goes thump-thump. I shall be gentle, so follow only my instructions.”

“What the hell—this quack? And why does it talk like that?”

“Correct. Rangrang’s medical level is, objectively, quack-tier. But who is this young female who reveals vulgarity with extremely rude and filthy vocabulary?”

“Ex—cuse me!? This little—”

“Tsk. Nana, swallow the poison. And ‘this little’? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“But she’s—obviously weird.”

“Tsk. Not allowed.”

“I see. Humans are also beasts. Is she a beast you keep?”

“Oh, this one—!”

Watching Tang Nana bare her teeth with a rumbling growl, Qing went, Mm.

“Roughly. Close enough.”

“Qing? Why only me again—what do you mean, beast? And ‘keep’? Hm? Are you going to keep me? I don’t mind. Should I just be a beast? Hey! You!”

Nana lit both wicks at once—

because Seol Iri had sidled up to Gyeon Pohee and was rubbing her cheek into Qing’s shoulder.

What is this—cat cosplay?

Leave the two to squabble.

A wrinkled old physician, face creased like a dried field, welcomed Qing warmly.

“Ah—Heavenly Flower Sword? How did you get so banged up? Hm—this scent—Tang family pharmacy? Looks like the treatments are done. But you should be flat on your back in convalescence, not out and about.”

“My body’s sturdy. I’ll be fine soon.”

“You’re young, yes, but you must set the bone properly. Ever heard why they call it bone-sickness? And these friends? That air of breeding drips—khm—good friends indeed.”

“I’m Tang Nana.”

“Ah, the Poison Flower! If you return to the Tang, tell them I’m studying their medical texts closely. I thought the Tang brats were merely vicious—khm—no, a man should be hard. That’s the rule.”

“Qing? And this person is...?”

“Sir Sa Sa’s elder.”

Nana’s face went complicated.

Sir Sa Sa’s Bo Yeol? An Unorthodox grand fiend?

What do I even report when I get home?

“The Unorthodox grand fiend says he enjoyed the medical texts”—that sounds like a challenge to a duel, not thanks.

“Elder, how have you been? A new venture, you said—why a clinic? I hope we’re not causing trouble.”

“What talk is this? Thanks to you, I’m well. What a luxury in my twilight years. Fate is wondrous—what if I hadn’t met you?”

“It’s... been a while.”

Off to the side, a stiff bob from—uh—what’s-his-name. The... the kid from Yoga Flame Hall. What was his name? Don’t know.

Yo Min, for his part, finds Qing intimidating.

Sir Sa Sa is grinning, having opened his own clinic and thinking of nothing else;

who would’ve guessed the Heavenly Flower Sword was a daughter of such a lofty house—no wonder the child turned into a person, bowing properly before elders.

But what kind of family hoards even the Demon Cult’s medical books? Truly a formidable clan—so he thought, and left it there.

Yo Min, though, sees them all as simply the Demon Cult.

Not that he’s going anywhere—and he’s being treated well—so it is what it is.

To him, Unorthodox or Demon makes little difference; after meeting them, their infamy seems mostly slander.

Just a tad sharper than most—but as the master, so the disciple.

Sufficient warmth rounds people out.

As the clinic’s senior disciple and junior physician for the charity ward, he’d begun to taste unprecedented respect and admiration.

“Elder Zhang! The detailed condition of Mr. Yeom the salt-merchant is— Ah—my lady!? Forgive me! Please, continue your conversation!”

A physician rushed in to report, saw Qing, bent double, and backed out.

Is Mr. Yeom urgent? Regrettable—but we can always find a nice grave plot—

Sir Sa Sa thought otherwise.

“Sounds like a critical patient. Let’s have tea later. Again: thanks to you, I’m well—and I set aside a curious jasmine tea. I wouldn’t have saved it otherwise.”

His palate has shifted; this isn’t the same Sir Sa Sa who only chased expensive leaves.

Now he even brews the not-so-rare jasmine and calls it “interesting”—proof he’s leaving the nouveau-riche phase and turning into a true tea lover.

For the record, jasmine tea is green tea scented with jasmine blossoms—Qing’s homeland calls it jasmine and Chinese restaurants serve it like water.

Somehow, when you call it “mali-flower tea,” it hits Koreans with a wistful pang, but call it “jasmine,” a western word, and the vibe flips.

“Ahem, come by more often. And spend some pocket money—there’s no fun in handing it over otherwise. Why have I never once heard ‘lost funds on campaign’? Drop in while you heal; we’ll decoct you a tonic each time. I opened a pharmacy—might as well use it now.”

Leaving Choi Riong’s wistful nagging behind—sun already tilting west—it was time to set out.

Dinner should be at Divine Lady’s Gate.

As the women-only sanctuary, Divine Lady’s Gate meant Peng Daesan would drop his bags in town and go sightsee along the gorges.

In his place, the seasoned stand and sovereign of attendants, Gyeon Pohee, joined the party toward Mount Wu.

Past the Men-Forbidden Gate at the foot, up and up to the mouth of Goddess Peak—

one big boulder more and the main gate of Divine Lady’s Gate—the mystery-sect of women that the common world is dying to see—popped into view.

“Ah! The sunset just exploded! What is this—is the sun exploding!? Has the heir finally pierced the remaining sun!?”

“No, dummy! Not the sun—that’s Great-Grandmaster Aunt!”

“Ah! Of course! If the sun exploded it couldn’t blaze this bright! It wasn’t the sun that got pierced, it was my heart! Welcome home!”

“Kyaa—Great-Grandmaster Aunt! You’re back! Physician Tang and Lady Seol too! And heh—Great-Grandmaster Aunt, you’re lewd again today! So spicy!”

“Lewd indeed! As expected of Great-Grandmaster Aunt!”

Why I am “as expected,” I don’t know.

Also—Hee-mae seems popular here?

Gyeon Pohee often stops by the main mountain when Divine Lady’s Gate goes marketing or Seol Trading Company delivers goods.

Beyond being Qing’s sworn sister, for whatever reason she had a not-small following among the disciples.

“Ahh! Last night the Goddess appeared covering her eyes—she must not have dared open them as Great-Grandmaster Aunt approached!”

“How are even the medicated patches beautiful on her face? No—it's the patches that become beautiful! It’s not that she put on patches—the patches clung to her. Ah, I want to cling to Great-Grandmaster Aunt too! May your disciple stick to you!?”

Qing snorted a thin puff.

“Are you two not on gate watch and just chattering all day? And what’s this—Yeonseo and Sarang—you’re always the ones on shift. Did you just get hired as the main-gate watch?”

“We’re amazed too! No—wait! Is this destiny? Born to welcome Great-Grandmaster Aunt! Ah, a maiden was born for this moment.”

“What are you saying? If Great-Grandmaster Aunt says we’re gate watch, then from now on we’re gate watch.”

“Ah—this lowly girl—fired. I am... hee-haw—fired.”

“Ah, me too—ha... hehe... I am fire-d.”

If left alone, these chirping chicks would peep all night, so Qing did as always and stopped their mouths with candy.

But... aren’t they rounder?

Feels like they’ve put on a little weight every time I come back.

“Grandmaster Aunt, you’ve returned!”

“Oh my, Grandmaster Aunt, you’re here? Oh dear—covering that pretty face—what is all this?”

“Great-Grandmaster Aunt! Great-Grandmaster Aunt!”

Seeing the household of Divine Lady’s Gate greet her with radiant smiles, Qing’s heart swelled and lay down quietly like a well-fed cat.

Ah—home.