Chapter 972: It’s Me, You Fuckers (8)

When you’re so happy to see someone that you don’t know what to do with yourself, you end up running over and hugging them without even realizing it.

That joy rises all the way to the top of your head, filling your whole heart and body with the pleasure of reunion until there’s no gap left. And because of that, the world inside your field of view blurs and disappears, and only the other person remains.

It’s human nature.

So it’s the same in East and West, in the past, in the present, and in the future. An instinctive reaction you can only have because you’re human.

So Qing couldn’t help it either.

No—maybe it was specifically because it was Qing.

Qing had never been the type to resist her instincts. When she wanted to eat, she ate. When she wanted to sleep, she slept. She was a beast of a woman like that. So with this overflowing happiness, her chest moved before her head—

BANG—

and she went skidding right across the floor.

RATTLE! THUD!!

The sound of a door being thrown open roughly!

In the Central Plains, where you’d get your manners questioned just for opening your own room like that, Qing was flinging open her master’s door like she meant to break it off the hinges.

Beyond it—

Her beautiful master.

Exactly as she remembered. Not a hair out of place. Sitting upright with her back straight, posture flawless—like a model of perfect form.

Sitting there, sitting there—

Huh...?

Qing, who had charged in, froze in place.

Because she was sitting. And not off to the side, either—she was seated right there, dead center, facing forward.

Which made “running in and hugging her” a bit... difficult.

If Qing were a ten-year-old kid, she could’ve rushed in and clung to her no matter what the other person was doing—standing, sitting, eating, using the bathroom—

But that was because children were, by nature, creatures who believed the world revolved around them. They didn’t seek consent. And because they were children, you could excuse that small selfishness as “cute.”

Adults, though?

When a person hugs another person, at minimum, there had to be some kind of agreement.

A look that silently said yes—I’m ready too.

Or an open-armed gesture that said come here.

Those were the active versions.

At the very least, you had to be facing each other while standing to wrap each other up in reunion, didn’t you?

So Qing stood there, stiff as a post—

Meanwhile.

Ximen Surin’s temperature was a little different from her disciple’s.

Of course, she had missed her disciple desperately.

But?

The moment Qing returned, what did she hear?

That Qing had learned seed-extraction demonic arts.

That she’d sucked the vital essence out of a Blood Cult demonic master with evil demonic arts.

That her hand was vicious beyond measure.

That she was a slaughter-star of the world.

Rumors plastered everywhere, sweeping through the whole area.

The problem was—

It sounded plausible.

Her disciple learned evil demonic arts?

Yes. Not just one or two, either.

Her disciple killed a demonic master?

Good. Well done.

Her disciple’s hand was vicious?

Yes.

Her disciple was the world’s slaughter-star?

Ah. So she’d finally been found out...!

So when Ximen Surin heard the rumors, this was what she thought.

That damn brat—every time she goes out, she comes back with some demonic art she picked up somewhere, and now she’s even brought back the most vicious one of all!

That thunder-struck naked ape of a girl—does she even understand what the “Slay-in-Slay” is...? It’s not even in the same category as other demonic arts...!

Seed-extraction demonic arts were different.

That was why, separate from the Ten Great Demonic Arts, they were classified on their own as the Slay-in-Slay—

Because seed-extraction demonic arts were a monster that shook the established order.

If a new Minor Water Witch appeared, then for high masters who had already reached their realm, it was simply, “Oh, one more demonic master exists.” It wasn’t a real threat.

The same for a Wheel-Turning Witch.

The same for a Purple-Spin Witch.

The same for a Black-Slaughter Witch.

Even if some witch appeared who had mastered all three—Wheel-Turning, Purple-Spin, and Black-Slaughter—it was still the same.

Except for the extremely rare genius, martial arts were fundamentally an art you built up by stacking years.

But seed-extraction demonic arts?

No matter how high your realm was, if your body was touched and your internal energy got drained, what use was a thousand years of cultivation?

Even the high masters who formed the balance of Murim would face it as a tremendous threat.

It was fortunate her disciple had deep ties with the Martial Alliance, and also stood on the footing her master had handed down.

It was fortunate, by sheer heavenly luck, that the current Martial Alliance leadership was moderate and benevolent.

But what about those dark-world thugs?

Would they really just sit still and tolerate a seed-extraction witch who belonged to the righteous side?

Ximen Surin had been so unsettled by her disciple’s behavior that she couldn’t even sleep.

So she’d been waiting, sharpening her resolve, for when Qing finally showed her face.

And the first thing that disciple did when she arrived?

That beauty-walk she’d drilled into her until it was in her bones was nowhere to be found. Instead, like a child—no, worse than a child—she burst in by flinging open her master’s door like she meant to smash it apart.

And then she stood there looking like that.

Her long eyebrows drooped into a wide V, acting pitiful like she’d been wronged.

But she still held an awkward smile at the corner of her mouth, like flirtation, like sulking—

A grown woman trying to act cute.

How pathetic.

And yet, they called her the number one beauty under heaven, and the sight of her was still lovely, so what was Ximen Surin supposed to do with this immature thing...?

Ximen Surin had been ready—ready to scold her properly.

But after seeing that face, she couldn’t bring herself to be cold.

“Haa...”

Ximen Surin let out a long sigh and stood up, her expression displeased.

Only the expression was displeased. Her eyes were gentle, overflowing with warmth—though even Ximen Surin herself didn’t realize it.

At that, her disciple’s face bloomed like a flower.

The next moment, Qing stomped hard enough to plant her heel with a THUD and flew forward—

She hurled herself into Ximen Surin’s arms, wrapping her with both arms and both legs, clinging like a cicada—

No matter what, was this really right...?

“Hehe. Master. I missed you.”

“A grown young lady—how can you cling like this without shame? If others see, I’ll be mortified. Hurry up and get off.”

“Hee-hee.”

“This little—what are you laughing for? What did you do that was so admirable...”

And yet, Ximen Surin’s own lips were also, quietly, beginning to lift.

So their reunion—somewhat violent, as always—ripened like this...

*****

A little later.

Ximen Surin’s expression was truly gentle.

No matter how much she called her this or that, in the end it was because she worried for her disciple. And after seeing a disciple so innocently happy to see her master, what cruel master could still stay harsh?

Besides.

In Qing’s hometown, there was a psychological term—

“The frog in boiling water.”

Throw a frog into boiling water and it startles and leaps out.

But if you put it in cold water and slowly raise the heat, it supposedly doesn’t notice it’s being cooked, going, Ah, how refreshing, until it dies.

Of course, frogs had a right to feel wronged.

Cold-blooded animals like frogs were extremely sensitive to temperature. Even if you heated the water slowly, they would notice and escape.

In fact, if you threw them into boiling water, their muscles would contract instantly and they’d be unable to flee, dying on the spot.

So the saying had it completely backwards.

But humanities people didn’t derive their statements through facts and verification. They made things up however they liked using brain-logic and vibes.

So it was important to filter what you heard.

In the same way, Qing’s attitude toward her master had grown more and more comfortable—and more and more brazen.

She’d thrown away everything she’d learned about beauty-walks, and ran around like a swaggering man.

Even when Ximen Surin tried to get angry, Qing would soften her eyes, grin sweetly, and smooth it over with aegyo.

And every time, Ximen Surin’s threshold—her “anger limit,” in other words—crept higher and higher.

Ximen Surin had been slowly simmered too.

But what could she do?

She’d already become attached.

Annoying, yes. But not hateful. In fact, she found her lovely, her heart leaning toward her.

For a Daoist master to follow her heart—what was so strange about that? This too was a bond, the natural Dao.

Ximen Surin’s somewhat strained excuse.

“I’ve heard the rumors saying my disciple has learned seed-extraction demonic arts, and I cannot deny it outright, so I have no choice but to ask you. Did you truly learn seed-extraction demonic arts?”

In that instant, Qing’s mind snapped sharp.

If she handled this wrong, she was about to get a Nuclear Forehead Flick the moment they reunited.

“How could your disciple possibly do that?”

Ximen Surin exhaled in massive relief.

Her disciple might not distinguish divine arts from demonic arts, and might eat anything that looked “good,” but even she had a line. Seed-extraction demonic arts was too far.

Besides, after what had happened before with seed-extraction demonic arts, how could she possibly come across it and still learn it happily? Even her disciple had a brain.

“Master. What I learned is not that kind of evil demonic art, but a purer study.”

Qing, desperate to avoid the Nuclear Forehead Flick, suddenly put on a composed Daoist air—only at times like this.

“A purer study?”

“It’s a study called the Northern Sea Divine Art. I’ve heard seed-extraction demonic arts takes another’s internal energy but can’t dissolve it into the self. It pulls out someone else’s energy and cages it, and with multiple energies, they would conflict inside the core. Naturally, disaster would spread through the blood vessels up to the brain, and you’d be dragged around by demonic nature. That’s what it would be.”

The Northern Sea Divine Art was not like that.

It also extracted another’s internal energy.

But the internal energy stolen through the Northern Sea Divine Art reached the core, and its nature became pure like the energy of nature, blending in as smoothly as water poured into water.

Like building internal energy through breath absorption, it assimilated into what you already had and dissolved into it.

It was like consuming an elixir with no side effects.

“And... I can also transmit internal energy to others...”

If there was one point where the Northern Sea Divine Art was completely different from seed-extraction demonic arts, it was that Qing could charge the other person’s core with her own internal energy.

The person receiving it couldn’t stockpile it.

But they could refill what had been consumed.

Or Qing could transmit her internal energy and add it directly into the other person’s techniques.

For example—if Qing infused internal energy into Jin Jangmyeong, who was the lowest of the low among fighters—

Then Jin Jangmyeong, a mere first-rate martial artist, a martial-arts assistant, a martial-artist “claimant,” could—

Amazingly—

Pour out a clear sword aura of the Harmonization Realm.

Of course, strictly speaking, that sword aura wouldn’t be Jin Jangmyeong’s. It would be Qing’s.

Even so, wasn’t it something utterly unimaginable?

Because the Northern Sea was the sea.

The sea—the final destination of all water.

Just as water flowing into the sea could not dare to resist, any internal energy could only be pulled in without resisting.

And it was also the beginning of all water.

When the sea released the water it held—when that water reached the sky and earth—was it salty and bitter?

Sea water that seeped into the earth and rose into the sky forgot the sea’s nature and became pure water.

“Indeed... the Northern Sea!”

Ximen Surin poured out joyful admiration for her disciple’s fated encounter.

Ximen Surin was fourth among the world’s Ten Great Masters.

But the first, Mu Bul, was a man of Buddhism.

The second, Changgeuk, was a man of the Jo Family of the Five Great Houses.

The third, Paejon, was also a man—and the leader of the dark world.

Meaning Ximen Surin was the number one woman under heaven.

And simultaneously, the number one Daoist under heaven.

How could someone like her not know the Northern Sea?

“And I also think... seed-extraction demonic arts may be an incomplete imitation of the Northern Sea Divine Art. My Northern Sea study isn’t deep yet, so I can’t be sure, but this study has a nature that can’t be taught through oral formulas or insights. So perhaps seed-extraction demonic arts was born from trying to forcibly compress it into the language of the world. It’s only a guess, though.”

When Qing obtained the Northern Sea Divine Art, what she saw in that vision was nothing but memories of becoming water herself, circling the world, and returning.

Qing was the salt water of the sea.

The clouds in the sky.

Dew on blades of grass.

The flow of groundwater beneath the earth.

A falling raindrop—

And at the same time, a bead of sweat flung off a horse running across the plains.

All of those experiences became one, letting her grasp the strange transformation of internal energy.

Drawing in another’s internal energy was as natural as water flowing into the sea.

Giving it out was natural too—because it was all the same water in the end.

For Qing, it was simply something she could naturally do.

Even if she explained that insight in words, what more could she say beyond, “All water is the same, and it circulates, returning again and again”?

Even if you “taught” that, nobody would go, Wow! Northern Sea Divine Art! I perfectly understand!

Ximen Surin’s smile softened.

“Truly, it is heavenly fortune. That such a fated encounter reached my disciple—this is the Heavenly Venerate’s protection. It means heaven’s mandate lies with you. There must be a great mission you must accomplish on this earth.”

“A mission?”

“That is not something you need to rack your mind over. Nature acts without forcing. Your temperament hates evil, takes the good as friends, and can pity the suffering of living beings. If you keep to the middle path, and advance while holding to what your conscience tells you, then you will surely accomplish a great work. Only when that time comes will you realize it was heaven’s mandate.”

“Hehe...”

“However, one thing is certain. Among so many men in the world, heaven’s mandate descended upon my disciple. This is heaven’s will—that in the days to come, all great works will be done by women. Great works will all be done by women. Women can do anything. Heh.”

The conclusion had gotten pretty strange.

But Ximen Surin had always been like this.

“Hee-hee.”

“I am truly proud of my disciple...”

“Hee-hee-hee.”

“Ho-ho...”

Whatever the conclusion, if the ending was good, then it was all good.

Just seeing each other made them happy—what scene could be more satisfying than that?

And within that satisfaction, Qing’s heart began to melt again.

“Ah, Master. Do you know what’s funny? After I took in the Northern Sea Divine Art, doesn’t the nature of this study have something that connects to the world’s Ten Great Demonic Arts?”

“...?”

“Maybe... all of the world’s Ten Great Demonic Arts came from the same root. From the Northern Sea Divine Art.”

After all, the mission to obtain the Northern Sea Divine Art had been to gather all of the Ten Great Demonic Arts, hadn’t it?

Still, Ximen Surin couldn’t help but question it.

“You say your divine art connects to the Ten Great Demonic Arts? How would my disciple know that, unless you have taken all Ten Great Demonic Arts?”

“Hehe. Well... because I did take them all. For example, the method of reversing the flow of internal energy in the Heaven-Crushing Reverse-Blood Water-Heart Thorn Formula—the Reverse-Blood Demonic Art—connects to the Northern Sea Divine Art’s Storm-Gathers-Waters-Return Formula, like how the sea’s surface current and deep current differ yet blend together. And the Wheel-Turning Demonic Art’s wheel-turning aura has a form like waves, so—I don’t fully know, but a wave? The transmission of force? It happens to connect to the Northern Sea Divine Art’s Ten-Thousand-Layered-Wave-Crest Formula, you know? And then...”

Once Qing relaxed, she began pouring out her rambling, hard-to-follow, uniquely “Qing” excited word-barrage—flooding and flooding.

To summarize?

My disciple learned all of the world’s Ten Great Demonic Arts!

So it wasn’t just “maybe.”

She really did gather every last one.

Ximen Surin’s vision went black.

Ximen Surin’s fist began to tremble.

Still, if the ending was good, then it was all good—someone had said something like that.

Ah. That “someone” had been this brat too.

And the logic itself wasn’t wrong. If the result was a divine art—

Right. Gathering such vicious demonic arts and forging them into a divine art... the will of heaven was mysterious. Sure. That could happen.

It’s not like she was going to obsess over demonic arts and dig into them—

“So, to fully express the complete might of the Northern Sea Divine Art—its function—I think I’ll need to bring the Ten Great Demonic Arts to completion too, and understand them completely. So from now on, I should focus on the Ten Great Demonic Arts and really obsess over them and dig in properly—”

In that instant, something inside Ximen Surin’s mind snapped.

Grudged fury compressed, and compressed, and compressed until it was too dense to hold form—crossing a critical point, turning unstable.

Then that unstable rage split into countless factors that collided and collided, releasing massive heat and force.

In other words—

A chain reaction of nuclear fission rage!

And so, a fist fell.

“Ah.”

By the time Qing noticed, it was already too late.

THWAAACK!!!!!

“KYYAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!”

At the same time, a scream so horrific it felt like the gates of hell had opened tore out, shaking the dry heavens and earth.

Why did this happen?

Because she let her guard down.