Chapter 938: A Strange Bitch, A Strange Guy, A Strange Guy (23)

Qing’s body sinks downward.

The sky seen from beneath the surface wavers in a bluer light than anything, so blue it hurts even while you’re looking at it, and without thinking you reach out.

But the sky keeps getting farther away, and through the pale, long, pitiably outstretched fingers, that sky darkens bit by bit, and I’m sinking.

Endless submergence.

How much time passed like that?

A day, two days, maybe a hundred years, a thousand years, or longer than that, or longer still—endless eons, nothing but sinking into an infinite abyss.

And then, suddenly, into Qing’s sight, her touch, her hearing—into every sense, everything she sees and hears and feels—letters, a voice, a severe will, seems to be carved.

In the Northern Abyss there is a fish; its name is Kun.

It was from Zhuangzi’s “Free and Easy Wandering.”

The Kun that lives in the Northern Abyss becomes a Great Roc and spreads its wings, and those wings cover the whole sky, and when the sea heaves it will rise to the Southern Abyss—meaning, rise into the heavens.

What kind of place was this Northern Abyss?

The ancients said it meant something so vast it has no end, and another said it was distant beyond ending.

A sea so deep it looks only black to the human eye; a sea so deep it is remote beyond imagining; the endpoint of all waters that fall forever downward.

The Northern Abyss is the deep sea of the Bottomless Pit.

—But is it, really?

The beautiful woman who had been sinking slowly opens her eyes, slowly.

Even in dark water—no, because it is dark water—she shines whiter still, with a desolate beauty that seems like it doesn’t exist in this world.

Her long hair simply drifts and wavers, calm and slow, and there is a mystery to her—an air of stillness, of something that does not move, as if dignity itself has seeped out of motionlessness.

*****

Her eyes are bulging open and rolled back—white everywhere, and the bottom edge of her pupil barely visible beneath her upper lid.

Foam gathers at her lips, and her head whips violently left and right like it’s about to snap her neck, spitting that foam as saliva in every direction, her hair flying up in a wild tangle.

This was the horrific expression of someone exposed to brain-engraving training—someone whose brain was being kneaded and crushed as if to pulp under that terrifying, brutal sensation.

“Ugh, ngh—ahh...!”

A rough moan forced out of the woman with that horrific expression, like she’s clamping her mouth shut to endure it—and yet something rising, something she can’t resist, still pries its way out anyway.

Of course it would. If someone kneads your brain, anyone would end up making sounds that aren’t even language—just noise spilling out.

“AAAH! Miss! If I let go now, can we go? Miss!? Can you hear me!?”

“Ghhk—ngh—ah—nngh—hhhhh...!”

“Miss!? I’m really letting go! At this rate—AAAH!”

KRA-KOOM!

A column of dirt erupts, and Kim Heojung is blasted away again, flung far off like a waterwheel spinning itself to pieces.

“AAAAAAAH!!!”

Kim Heojung went flying again.

*****

Qing’s body rises.

After a very brief moment—or after the long passage of eternity—her eyes catch that sight again: beyond the wavering surface, a sky so blue it looks as if not a speck of dust exists in it.

At last, quietly, Qing floats on the surface.

But the ascent doesn’t stop. Her body begins to rise while turning over.

It is a truly heavy ascension.

Her fine hair drifts like water plants, calm and unhurried.

The most accurate way to say it is this:

Qing is sinking toward the sky.

Qing sinks toward the sky.

Endlessly, toward that boundless heaven.

The land below is a pitch-black sea, but in the widening view as she sinks into the sky, there is, before she knows it, a massive continent settled to the south.

And farther still—so far—the edge of the world bends in a warm curve like a woman’s breast, and at last the world is shaped into a circle.

In that instant, Qing’s submergence—her gradual descent as she sank toward the infinite end of the heavens—stops.

From high in the sky.

*****

High in the sky, Kim Heojung—spinning as he flew—finds his gaze snapping into sharp focus mid-rotation.

Below him, a villain with both arms stretched out.

A grotesquely ugly chunk of flesh had brought its two hands together and was aiming at him.

He had already experienced the monster’s palm winds more than once.

They were powerful, sure, but if he blocked them with the Ice-Crystal Black Warrior Turtle Shell, that was that.

Anyway, the Ice-Crystal Black Warrior Turtle Shell was a side effect of learning the Black Warrior Dance. Even if it shattered, it would restore itself quickly.

So all he had to do was take it on his back—

Kim Heojung clenched his teeth.

At the same time, he twists his body, swinging his unusually long neck in a wide circle—front, back, left, right—while flicking his hands and feet.

A dance that looks like an excited turtle being imitated, and at the same time a dance so ugly and clumsy it makes you want to look away.

But the result wasn’t ugly or clumsy at all—

CRACK-CRACK!

A thick layer of ice begins to cover his limbs.

And then—

BOOM!

A blood-colored beam shot up from the ground and detonated right into Kim Heojung.

BOOM!

With a red explosion, a gale screams like the wail of wronged souls and comes tearing through.

And then Kim Heojung plummets like a bird that has lost its wings, spearing down.

THUD!

A heavy impact.

Kim Heojung, limbs spread wide, lies crumpled among the ruined forest—trees snapped and torn into chaos.

And in that space, a voice reaches his ear.

“Ugh...”

“Miss?! Are you all right!? Damn—shock—”

—KWAHAHAHA!! I’VE GOT YOU!! YOU TRASH!!

That maddening voice drills into his ear, and Kim Heojung launches his body to move.

But in the next instant, a dizzying bolt of pain lances through his leg.

Before he can even fully register it, something is already at his side—a red qi shot.

BOOM!

A sinister red aura scatters in a spray, and Kim Heojung bounces three times, skids, then—

THUNK!

He slams into a tree stump and collapses with a wet sprawl.

Kim Heojung forces down the blood surging up his throat, but then—

KHK!

He chokes, and HACK—COUGH—HACK—he coughs as if wringing his lungs out.

Thanks to that, the blood he tried to swallow smears all over his mouth, and it even refluxes through his nose—

DRIP—DRIP—DRIP.

In front of him, the flesh-monster floats down and lands on the earth.

—Heh... ugly bastard. No—“ugly” doesn’t even cover it. You’re hideously ugly. No, that still isn’t enough. A crushed Fasting Pill would look better than you.

“Ghk...!”

Kim Heojung made a sound that was truly furious.

Because he was truly furious.

Kim Heojung knew very well that he was ugly. He’d never been able to shake the self-loathing that he was the ugliest man under heaven.

But the Heart-Eating Demon’s rampaging form had, until now, been a sliver of comfort to him.

It let him think: So I’m only the second-ugliest man under heaven. There really is a bastard uglier than me.

And now that thing was calling him ugly.

Of course he couldn’t help being genuinely furious.

He wanted to roar back at that rotten, bloated lump of meat—something that looked like it was covered in endless mold—and demand who the hell it thought it was calling ugly.

But Kim Heojung didn’t have the courage to bark at the one currently holding his lifeline—because he was completely, absolutely cowed.

How disgraceful, Kim Heojung.

The Heart-Eating Demon looks down at him and lets out a low, contemptuous laugh.

—Heh. Any last words?

Kim Heojung’s face hardens with resolve and—

THUD.

He drops straight to his knees.

“Please spare me. Please.”

Truly disgraceful, Kim Heojung.

*****

At some point, Qing descends. Qing pours down, Qing scatters, and an infinite number of Qings fall toward the earth and the sea of the whole world.

Qing that rose from the sea falls back into the sea.

Some Qing dives into rivers along a slanting downpour, some Qing settles softly on green leaves and bright flower petals like drifting mist, and some Qing falls into soil and seeps in—downward, and farther down.

And so Qing flows.

Qing that falls into the sea is already the sea, and rivers flow until they reach the sea.

When grass and flower petals face the sky and weep, Qing becomes dew, rolling over those leaves before soaking into the earth.

Those Qings that seep into the earth yield and join into a great flow beneath the ground, and part of that flow rises again into springs and rivers—or becomes the heat that surges up from beneath the deep sea’s skin.

In the end, the sea circles the world and returns to the sea.

In the end, all things are one.

The Northern Abyss is the sea, and the sea is everything.

In an instant, the world vanishes.

As if it had been nothing but a mirage.

And so there is only darkness—emptiness like a void where nothing exists.

And yet Qing feels existence.

What cannot be seen is not the same as what does not exist.

Up and down, left and right, front and back—the whole world, the whole universe, is full of a distinct, unmistakable energy.

The Qi Sea.

A vast current where all energies circulate without end—from the one into infinite individuals, from infinite individuals back into the one—an immense flow, a sea of qi.

And so.

This is what is called the Northern Abyss.

*****

It seemed the Heart-Eating Demon hadn’t expected ugliness to reach quite this level, because the heap of flesh that might have been his mouth hung slightly open.

“Uhh—ngh...! Bweeeeh....”

And what was this obscene sound, continuing in ragged bursts?

—That bitch—what, did she already lose her mind? No. No! I was going to blanch her myself in boiling water and roll her in salt!

Kim Heojung’s guts turned cold.

He’s really a mad monster. Blanch a person? How could someone be born human and dare to let something that horrific come out of their mouth?

Truly a cruel, horrific piece of garbage.

I can’t ever cross him.

The conclusion was humiliating, but anyone’s life is precious, and nobody wants to be turned into blanched vegetables tossed in salt.

“Uh—heh, heh... my lord? If I just leave this bitch here, is that fine?”

—Ha. You’re a funny one. You cradled her like she was everything, and now you’re going to leave her?

“Ah... I think I’ve done enough as far as loyalty goes, and if I think about it, what loyalty even is—no, seriously, what loyalty? I must’ve gone crazy for a second. What am I even tied up with this rude bitch over, besides bad blood? Uh... why did I do that?”

—Ha. You’re asking me?

“No, why did I do it? I could’ve just left, but I came back to watch this—”

Kim Heojung forgets even his cringing servility and sinks into thought.

Why? Why did he come back?

Well, first, Miss Seomun is pretty.

But pretty isn’t everything.

Miss Seomun’s—her chest is huge. Enormous.

There are plenty of women with big chests in the world, but a woman whose chest is the only thing that’s big? Those are rare.

And on top of that, her face is beautiful?

The fact that a woman like that actually existed was, by itself, unbelievable.

But even more than that—more than anything—the look in her eyes.

That cold look when she watched him—whether woman or man, it didn’t matter—because there was no contempt in it. No disgust, like she was looking at filthy trash.

Lady Gongryang had been like that too, but Lady Gongryang’s gaze had a chilly indifference in it, like she was looking at an object that had nothing to do with her.

Miss Seomun wasn’t like that. She looked at people.

Her eyes were so clear, and it had been so long since he’d seen that.

Sure, they weren’t always clear. Sometimes contempt crept in and she’d look down at him like he was pathetic, but even that stirred some feeling he couldn’t name. He didn’t know what it was, but at least it wasn’t something negative like disgust.

And then—when was the last time he’d heard someone say they were sorry?

He’d helped people and been slapped for it because of how he looked, and then “innocent civilians” would chase him with weapons. Among all of them, not a single person had ever offered a sincere apology without first beating him.

An apology is something one person gives to another.

He had never received a proper apology—because he had never been treated like a person.

“Ugh—ngh... bweeeeh....”

The moment that strange, oddly suggestive sound from Qing snaps his mind into focus, Kim Heojung jolts awake.

She said—just hold on. Just a little longer.

She said she had a way. If he could just buy time somehow—

—This bitch really lost it, huh? Fine. Maybe tossing her into the cauldron will wake her up. Put her down and get the hell out. You’re so ugly it’s filthy even to touch you. Call it surviving thanks to being uglier than bugs, and go hold a memorial for the parents who handed you that vicious face. Heh heh heh.

The Heart-Eating Demon waves his hand in dismissal.

Kim Heojung lets out a wheezy laugh like a toady.

“My lord—no, Your Majesty—your mercy is as boundless as the sea, I’m overwhelmed beyond words. Truly, you grant such immense grace—Your Majesty is a true emperor!”

—Ha? Heh heh. So even those crushed little eye holes of yours have eyes after all.

“And with even a small heart of gratitude for Your Majesty’s grace, I want to show you a dance with my humble skill—a dance of thanks, nothing but gratitude itself.”

—Huh? Really? That sounds entertaining. Do a trick for me.

Kim Heojung starts rotating his head up and down in a weird spiral—his long neck makes it even weirder.

He spreads both arms wide and flaps them up and down, and with both feet planted, he just opens and closes his knees fast, over and over.

A dance so hideous you don’t even laugh—you just want to turn away.

Black Warrior Dance, the form of the Black Warrior swimming the great ocean.

The Heart-Eating Demon recoils in shock.

—W-what is this—what are you doing? Are you insane? Stop! Stop it! I said stop!

“Just a second! Just watch for a second! Please understand my heart—understand my gratitude!”

—Understand what—AAH, disgusting! I can’t stand looking at it, you bastard!! You dare toy with me! You refuse the cup I offered and drink a punishment cup instead!

“Just a second! It’ll only take a second! I’m expressing Your Majesty’s grace with my whole body!”

—Shut up! I’ll kill you!

A dance too horrifying to endure.

The Heart-Eating Demon, enraged, draws up that overflowing bloodlust in his body—

“Die first.”

Suddenly, a human shape swoops down over Kim Heojung’s head, diving like a swift hawk!

A bright smile fills the face—so pleased, so triumphant—and that grin was radiant with beauty, blindingly so.

To the Heart-Eating Demon, it was nothing but a hateful face.

—YOU!

The Heart-Eating Demon thrusts out his hand.

Those writhing slabs of flesh surge like a tide toward his right hand, and his right arm swells until its length and thickness are almost the same.

And then Qing’s hand meets the Heart-Eating Demon’s.

Strangely, there is no sound at all—only the rippling, quivering surface of the Heart-Eating Demon’s flesh suggests how violent their meeting should have been.

And then—

Nothing happened.

No grand collision of energy, no violent explosion, no decisive instant where victor and loser are split.

They simply stood there, hand to hand, facing each other, very still.

But their expressions were completely different.

The Heart-Eating Demon looks utterly stunned, panicked beyond measure.

Qing, by contrast, is smiling wide, flashing those incredibly white teeth.

Then Qing flicks her gaze toward Kim Heojung.

“Hey, Mr. Kim. What are you doing? This bastard can’t do anything now.”

And then Qing shouts in an excited voice—

“So—FUCK HIM UP!!”