Chapter 945: Is the Party Over? (4)

Last night, she’d invested the time into draining Kim Heojung’s true aura until his lower abdomen ran empty.

The moment the job was done, that shattered, collapsed hump—an ice-mountain swelling that had once jutted from the hunchback’s back—lay strewn across the floor in chunks...

...only to melt with a soft shrrrk and vanish into the air.

Of course, given Qing’s background, it wasn’t exactly a shocking sight.

Mm. So the “mystic ice” had been dry ice?

After that, she handed over the oral formula for Lunar Jade Maiden Divine Art, and even demonstrated it once as a true-aura guide.

By the time she finished, it was already quite late.

Kim Heojung bowed his head deeply and expressed his gratitude.

Qing watched his back as he left with his pack, and that was all—she simply wished him luck, hoping things would go well and he’d live a decent, human life.

And she sent Kim Heojung on his way.

But the one who leaves has left.

The one who remains still has to keep walking.

That was how a new morning came.

“Ugh—uuughh—AAGH. Hhhnng.”

A scream of pain, first thing in the morning.

Just like always—an energetic, powerful morning!

Qing snapped her upper body upright—

—and sucked in the morning air through clenched teeth as a sharp, stabbing pain drove straight up from her pelvis.

A scene like this—an unrivaled beauty frowning, biting her lip lightly—was so delicate, so lovely, no painting could ever capture it.

But the sound that came out of the beauty’s mouth?

“Ahhh... I’m gonna die, seriously...”

Then she scratched the back of her head like she meant to peel her scalp off, and crawled down from the bed in a cautious, stumbling shuffle.

She let the thin sleeping robe slide off her body and spill onto the floor, all natural and smooth, then glanced around—

scratched behind her shoulder—

scratched her generous ass—

scratched the back of her neck—

swept her bangs back once for no reason—

scratched her side again—

and kept scratching here and there with complete fairness while she rummaged for clothes and pulled them onto her body.

When she was dressed, she tipped her head back, gathered her hair, and twisted it up with practiced ease, then pinned it in place with the Priestess Order’s steel combat hairpin—its tip honed to a blue-edged point like a steel awl.

And that was it.

Morning prep: complete!

If she were at the Priestess Order, Jin Jangmyeong would have shown up nagging, shoving wash water at her so she could splash-splash her face.

But Qing’s body transcended the human.

Her skin quality did, too.

Whether she washed her face or not, her smooth, dewy white skin gleamed with a soft sheen, clean every day without any effort.

Right around the time she would toss on the face veil she always hung at the top right corner of her bed, her stomach always went—

GRRRRLLLL.

As if lodging a formal protest about why she hadn’t stuffed herself with a midnight snack.

Rubbing that belly in complaint, she stepped out of the room, heart fluttering with anticipation over what she’d eat for breakfast.

The moment she entered the inn corridor, hurried footsteps came running closer from down the hall—

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.

“Ah, Miss Seomun. Good morning. Have you eaten? The weather is wonderful.”

“...Huh?”

This morning was unusually dark.

To Qing’s superhuman hearing, she could clearly make out the sound of rain—shaaaahhh—spring rain coming down pretty hard.

Wonderful weather...?

No. More importantly—

“What the hell, Mr. Kim. Weren’t you going home?”

“Ahem. Th-that... I simply couldn’t bring myself to leave an injured friend behind. Are you feeling any better?”

Qing thought, Ah. Right. This bastard didn’t have friends.

When someone who’s never had friends finally gets one, their reaction tends to fall into one of two categories.

Either they shrink back, afraid of being disliked—

Or they stick like glue, wagging their tail like they’ll hand you their liver and gallbladder if you ask.

Qing was the first type.

Years ago, back in Luoyang when she first met the Jade Qilin and they’d been hanging out, she’d abruptly said “See you later” and split—because she didn’t want her own mess to drag someone else into trouble.

But the second type?

They latched on and never even considered letting go.

What are you doing today, what about tomorrow, where should we go the day after, we’re friends, aren’t we?

Of course, there was nothing bad about a person like that.

They were genuinely loyal, devoted, unwavering—exactly the kind of friend you’d grow old with.

The problem was, they were also easy to take advantage of.

The kind of person who ruins their life by picking the wrong friends.

And, well...

A little.

Somewhat.

Slightly.

...They were a pain in the ass.

But whatever.

Mm. How long could it last?

He was clinging to her because she was his only friend.

And because it didn’t look like he’d be making other friends anytime soon, he’d cling even harder.

But she’d already scattered the Black Warrior Dance and removed the cause of his ugliness.

So if she added Lunar Jade Maiden Divine Art?

That meant a second Seol Garyeon.

The birth of Kim Garyeon.

And then he’d naturally make more friends.

Anyway—she did have some guilt about poking at a man who’d been living quietly on his own, and she had received lifesaving help from him.

So until then, she could at least humor him.

He didn’t really have a “home” to go back to, so he’d probably just keep following along.

Maybe he’d miss his hometown and go back to Joseon someday.

If not, introducing him to the Seol Family Trading House wouldn’t be a bad idea either...

They still had to keep moving because she had to attend the wedding.

And since she was stuck lying down because of her pelvis, she was bored.

Which meant—

The Mr. Kim Observation Journal!

*****

[Mr. Kim Observation — Day 1.]

Choo—no, since the ice mountain has been removed, he’s no longer a hunchback.

So he’s gone from “ugly hunchback man” to “just ugly man.”

Ugly.

Mm. For some reason, “ugly-hunchback” felt... fine, but “ugly” makes guilt surge up, like I’m having a truly vile thought?

But no. I don’t need to feel that way.

If we weren’t friends, saying “this bastard is really ugly” would be a huge insult.

But if we are friends?

It’s not an insult at all.

If anything, because we’re friends, I have an obligation to coldly point out reality.

So even if I call him ugly, there’s absolutely no need for a pang of conscience.

Anyway.

This is definitely not because I’m in pain or anything, but in my professional opinion as a female physician, a pelvic fracture is actually a severe injury—deep trauma.

Because the pelvis is the center of the body, and every movement stimulates it.

Every action triggers pain, so not only can you not work—you can barely live day to day.

And since it keeps bearing weight, it doesn’t heal easily either.

Normally, bones knit enough in about two months that life and work aren’t disrupted, and it takes about half a year to fully mend.

But who is this body?

A realm-transcending master.

My injuries heal three times faster, and they don’t worsen while healing, so no inflammation worries—if I want to be fully lively again, maybe... about half a month?

Still, until then, I have to rest.

So I’m lying on a bed placed on the supply wagon the Eight Banners warriors recovered...

...except even with a bed, a wagon rides like a wagon, so it still rattles like rattle-rattle-rattle.

But anyway, in this part, Mr. Kim has been genuinely helpful.

He lifts the rear of the wagon.

So the horse pulls in front, a person lifts in back, and the ride becomes unbelievably smooth.

Smooth enough to sleep all day.

The only downside is that it tilts a bit to one side—his side is too low...

Mr. Kim’s head height was always way down there, because he was hunched over, supporting that ice mountain on his back.

I assumed that was why.

But even when he straightens his back, his height doesn’t really shoot up.

When we stand together, I have to tilt my head way down, gaze lowered—and I can clearly see the sparse, pale, empty crown of his head.

My god. It’s so pitiful...

[Mr. Kim Observation — Day 5.]

Breaking news!

Mr. Kim’s crown is turning ash-gray!

That barren crown—where it looked like only a few wet threads were stuck on—now has short hair starting to fill in.

Is this the miracle of a desert becoming a forest?

According to Mr. Kim’s one-sided claim, his vague childhood memory is that his biological father and grandfather had so much hair a comb couldn’t get through.

He says it fell out because he was becoming like the Black Warrior.

Well, the history of him building Lunar Jade Maiden Divine Art is only three days, so it’s not like dramatic effects should show up already...

[Mr. Kim Observation — Day 10.]

Mr. Kim’s skin is... healing.

“Healing” feels like a weird word, but there’s no better one.

Because it had to be a wreck before.

The skin that had been splitting and cracking as he became more and more turtle-like is rapidly filling in the gaps, leaving only the cracked traces behind.

At the same time, the jaw that had been jutting forward has pulled in a bit, and the brow ridge that had risen like a jagged mountain range is subtly sinking.

He’s steadily changing from a turtle’s physiognomy into a human’s.

It’s genuinely astonishing.

[Mr. Kim Observation — Day 15.]

Today we arrived in a city called Dunhua.

Yes. A city.

A place where civilization exists.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen a city—proper buildings stretching to the edge of sight, streets where you could actually call the number of people “a crowd.”

The moment we entered, a welcoming mass greeted the new mistress of Manchu lands, pouring out cheers like a stadium crowd.

Of course, I can’t tell whether they were forcibly mobilized or came out on their own.

Since walking—and even jogging a little—doesn’t trigger pain anymore, I was spared the humiliation of being carried through the cheering crowd on a bed-stretcher mounted on a half-rickshaw, half-wagon.

I asked Captain Pori when the wedding would be held, and—damn it—we have to wait another half month.

Thinking about it, of course. A wedding isn’t something you just slap together in a day. There’s a lot to prepare.

Mr. Kim is steadily regaining a human shape.

Maybe it won’t be long before I can call him “ugly” and mean it...

...Or. Mm. This bastard. I mean—still not sure yet.

[Mr. Kim Observation — Day 25.]

Now I’m sure.

Huge plot twist! A massive feast!

Mr. Kim is ugly.

He was ugly.

He’s come a long way from monster to human, but—

If you look at each feature one by one, the eyes, nose, mouth are all genuinely unfortunate.

And when you combine them, the parts cooperate in a synergy that makes him even more unfortunate.

That’s right.

He was ugly to begin with.

He just went from monster to human, that’s all.

It’s a nasty thought, but... if this is the case, did he really have a reason to hate and blame the Black Warrior Dance so much?

That “teacher” of his is absolutely a dog-shit bastard, yes, but he probably didn’t feel that guilty as his disciple’s looks twisted.

Because it was like... an honorable death.

An ugly man who, if left alone, might’ve even looked toward being the best under heaven—

—but he rushed Black Warrior Dance as a shortcut, got warped, and became “ugly-hunchback.”

Something like that.

Still, I believe in Lunar Jade Maiden Divine Art.

Look at Seol Garyeon.

That heavy look—jaw square, temples bulging, a rugged Seol Family bastard—

—and it sculpted him into a glamorous, seductive flower-snake beauty.

A divine art worthy of the world.

When I think of it like that, I really did bestow a great kindness.

Of course.

Wedding day.

They said the shaman had chosen an auspicious date, and the sky was bright—clear, not a cloud in sight—so Qing almost wondered if he really had some power.

But then she thought again—

This is a sham world where real sorcery exists, isn’t it?

At noon, the groom-to-be—the Jurchen great chieftain—would ride a lavishly adorned horse and set out to escort the bride.

But before that, there was something that had to happen first.

This marriage-alliance procession wasn’t a procedure for sending a princess off to a foreign country—

meaning, to a barbarian chief.

This was the union of the Grand General responsible for the northern frontier of the Central Plain—

and the most precious woman of the imperial bloodline.

So the groom who had to go welcome the bride wasn’t the Jurchen great chieftain.

It had to be the Grand General of the Central Plain.

Which meant the investiture of the Grand General had to take place before the wedding.

And who would confer that title?

Normally, the imperial envoy’s duty was handled by an eunuch—

But an altar built in tiers signified rank.

And in the presence of the imperial bloodline, how could an eunuch climb onto a higher platform?

If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t have been born the emperor’s daughter.

So Qing stood atop the platform.

It was a two-tier platform.

A three-tier platform was the symbol of the Son of Heaven.

The two-tier platform, one rank below, was reserved for imperial bloodline and royal nobles.

And there was one more who could stand upon a two-tier platform—

The imperial envoy, the earthly proxy who bore the Son of Heaven’s command, who carried Heaven’s mandate, had the right to stand two steps above the ground as well.

She wore a blue ceremonial robe and a gold belt.

In front of her, two massive incense burners poured up smoke—this was the envoy’s authority.

And so, outside the city’s south gate, thousands knelt before the platform, backs straight as they stared at Qing.

What did it look like to her?

The entire city gathered in one place, kneeling, looking up at her—

a breathtaking spectacle she’d never imagined she would witness in her life.