Chapter 67
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Demonic Hand
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Kang Pyo's bone transformation didn't take all that long to complete, but they couldn't immediately hold the sparring match So-hyang was hoping for.
"…!"
"…Why…!"
So-hyang collapsed in a daze, like a puppy realizing the tasty bone in front of it was actually just a rock.
"…Have you lost your mind? How long has it even been since his bone transformation finished, and you're already trying to make him fight?"
Qinghe Zhenren and the Sect Leader, who had both undergone bone transformation themselves, stared at her like she was some otherworldly creature.
Did this girl have no heart at all?
Bone transformation was akin to a kind of metamorphosis.
It was a complete overhaul of a martial artist's body from the ground up, reshaping it into a form perfectly suited for martial arts—enough to say the person's very race had changed.
The five senses sharpened to an unprecedented degree, and even the brain's faculties for processing that information underwent a radical shift.
To put it simply, it was a deluge of information overwhelming the mind: sounds reaching the ears and sensations touching the skin allowed for a three-dimensional grasp of everything within a hundred zhang—about three hundred meters.
"Hm… something like that."
That said, So-hyang had lived her previous life as a mortal without even a wisp of qi, yet she'd casually perceived that kind of range back then too. So she found it a bit hard to sympathize with talk of "overwhelming information."
In any case, on top of that, qi sense expanded to an incomparable level, and even the faint inklings of spiritual sense awakened where none had existed before.
It was like a toddler barely learning to walk suddenly becoming a full-grown adult in one leap.
Of course, they'd still be far stronger than before ascension, but in super-first-rate terms, it was an incredibly vulnerable state.
Just like a butterfly fresh from metamorphosis, wings newly sprouted but not yet ready to take to the skies.
At the very least, it needed time for the wings to harden and the moisture to dry.
"Hoo… what a shame…."
In the end, So-hyang had achieved a realm beyond super-first-rate, but she was something of an outsider when it came to bone transformation.
It couldn't be helped.
The fundamental premise was just too different.
Bone transformation was the "explosive" evolution a martial artist's body underwent at the moment of ascension.
Triggered by a single phenomenon, it wrought changes so drastic that before and after couldn't even be compared.
By contrast, the way So-hyang had developed her own body was gradual.
She'd piled sand to build a mountain, steadily climbing upward until completing this monstrous physique.
Heartbeat, blood circulation, muscle flexing, electrical signals linking nerve bundles, cellular metabolism—every bodily function had been built on a foundation of constant awareness.
So the very concept of "adapting to one's body" felt somewhat foreign to her.
"Well, if that's how it is, nothing to be done…."
She still gazed at Kang Pyo with moist, longing eyes dripping with reluctance.
"…Ahem."
It was the kind of look that made any man—regardless of age or gender—want to grant her every wish, but Kang Pyo quietly turned his head away.
He knew that beneath that beauty, which could make even serpents bow their heads, lurked a sword-obsessed asura beyond measure.
"Oh dear, what a pity."
So-hyang pouted with a smile, voicing her disappointment. She'd even resorted to something she never did before, but no effect.
"Whoa, scary girl…."
Qinghe Zhenren couldn't hold back his crude words, forgetting he was even a Daoist.
Even if her mind had regressed to match her young body, she was over a hundred years old counting her past life. Resorting to feminine wiles just for a spar with a novice?
"Hey, I just looked at him sincerely, that's all."
"…Trying to fool these eyes?"
She hadn't coquetted or acted cute; her mere existence was the honey trap. Still, her intent to leverage her looks was clear.
"Ahaha…."
So-hyang felt a bit wronged too.
She wasn't asking for a life-or-death duel—just a light spar to gauge his skills. Was that so bad?
With some real combat, he'd naturally adapt faster to his heightened senses.
When life was on the line, commensurate growth followed. A single thin scratch on the neck would surely speed up his adaptation.
That was why past-life So-hyang always threw herself into the jaws of death, tightrope-walking on the edge of the blade.
In any case, staking one's life accelerated progress.
They were offering wisdom and experience from their elders, yet refusing so flatly… how disappointing.
"…Kang warrior, how about a light spar, just one round?"
Her pale eyes, still not fully relinquishing hope, gleamed toward Kang Pyo.
"It seems difficult right now."
"Sigh, I figured as much."
Another firm refusal. So-hyang sighed deeply, unable to hide her regret.
"—But."
"Hm?"
Just as the conversation seemed to wrap up, Kang Pyo looked straight at So-hyang and added one more thing.
"Once I've adapted to this body and gained confidence in my own sword…"
So-hyang doubted her ears for a moment.
"…may I challenge you to a spar, So-hyang?"
"…Pardon?"
"Truth be told, I'm a clear novice. If we're sparring, it only makes sense for the challenger to stand as the inferior, right?"
A promising junior promising to hone his sword and challenge her someday.
For So-hyang, always the challenger seeking fights in both lives…
"Really?"
Could there be anything fresher?
"Yes. Not that I could beat you, So-hyang, but once I'm confident enough to cross swords and exchange blows properly, I'll come find you."
"R-Really?"
Anything more delightful?
"I don't have a fitting title yet, but when that time comes, I'll challenge the great hero of the White Lotus Sword as a true wanderer of the jianghu. I promise."
"…Ahh."
Straightforward eyes gazing at her earnestly, deep and resolute—the gaze of an upright swordsman.
Beneath humility and deference, a clear glimpse of competitive spirit as a warrior.
"You have to keep that promise…?"
"Yes, of course."
He raised his hands in a rough salute, callused palms pressing together in the fist-and-palm gesture, even after bone transformation.
"You absolutely have to keep it?"
Returning the gesture, So-hyang's face mixed joy and unease.
It was the situation she'd dreamed of—too dreamlike to trust as reality.
Her face flushed with manic glee she couldn't suppress, like she'd caught bipolar fever. Warm rosy tint bloomed on her cheeks.
Her thrilled breath rose anew from her lungs, eyes rimming red.
Her lower belly fluttered; her pituitary flooded with massive pleasure chemicals.
Ecstasy beyond psychedelics, gambling, or climax—unmatched by any worldly pleasure.
Transcending perfect body control, emotions wracked So-hyang's entire frame with shivers.
"S-So-hyang…?"
Kang Pyo, who'd boldly promised the challenge, now regretted it seeing her over-the-top joy.
"Primeval Heavenly Lord…."
Qinghe Zhenren pitied him, murmuring a Daoist incantation like a prayer.
He'd thought the same before, but with his wise eyes, this bizarre junior was… literally bizarre.
Clearly no villain, more a righteous sage even…
"A madwoman of the world…."
But undeniably insane.
-----
Having secured a promise that the anticipated feast would return even tastier later, So-hyang began mixing drinks with immense satisfaction.
There'd been a brief commotion, but she was treating the group to drinks.
"This time for you, Zhuge Hansang! Here's a glass!"
"…Huh? Y-Yes!"
With her voice even more lively, Zhuge Hansang dazedly accepted the glass from the wildly shaking So-hyang, who moved like she was dancing.
For a moment, the shocking flavor assaulted his senses, snapping his eyes wide.
"—Ooooh! Delicious!"
A standard mix: exactly half fiery liquor for bitterness, half emerald thick brew for sweetness.
With his mild tastes—liking or disliking nothing—Zhuge Hansang could fully appreciate both.
"Alright, next up—"
"Um, c-could you maybe give me the same mix you made for Kang warrior…?"
"Hm?"
Song Seolryeong eyed Kang Pyo, his skin refreshed post-transformation, and made her request.
"Well, if it's sweet, how can I refuse?"
He knew what she was thinking. It seemed unlikely to grant her wish, but experiencing it firsthand was fine.
Nine parts fiery liquor, one part emerald thick brew—lukewarm, dash of pepper, roughly mixed.
"Here you go."
"…Ugh, urk."
Song Seolryeong squeezed her eyes shut against the vibrating, lukewarm stench of bitter-spicy heat, then tossed it into her mouth.
"—Mmph, krrph, urmmph…!"
Tongue-shredding bitterness exploding into her sinuses, scorching mucosa, even crunchy grains of fiery pepper…!
"—Kahak! Nyaaah!!"
In the end, Song Seolryeong couldn't swallow the full cup, choking and spewing it into the air.
"Wh-what flavor is this supposed to be…!?"
She stared at Kang Pyo like he'd summoned some indescribable entity. How could he rave about this…?!
So-hyang offered fruit and water, not hiding her amusement.
"No wonder it's a polarizing mix. It absolutely won't suit your taste."
"Bweeeh…! Nnnno wike dat tate…!"
Tongue lolling out, gargling water like laundry, but the aftertaste lingered.
"As you know, drinking this won't turn you into Kang warrior. The liquor was just a trigger."
The emerald thick brew So-hyang pulled out wasn't some elixir or spirit wine. Just well-made booze.
At best, a medicinal brew for tonics or clearing vascular waste.
Achieving ascension after drinking delicious liquor was just Kang Pyo's uniqueness.
"I know, but… just in case…."
Still, ascending from peak-first-rate to super-first-rate in just over a week? Too much.
Natural to suspect some mystical effect.
"It means Kang warrior's life was filled with desperate struggles to the end."
Like hurling eggs at mountains or sand into seas—foolish by any measure, a true swordsman.
Eventually shattering mountains and filling seas, but a feat no one else could match.
"He seemed stagnant, but he was an arrow nocked on an endlessly drawn bowstring."
Decades of effort exploded in an instant, the arrow piercing walls.
"Ugh, I get it…."
"Tch, don't cling to impossibilities."
So-hyang grinned, flicking Song Seolryeong's forehead lightly for her lingering hopes.
And Song Seolryeong saw her life flash before her eyes from that slender finger.
"Hieeek!"
"Hehe, such a drama queen."
No skull-piercing agony like before—just a genuine light flick.
"Huu…!"
Relief at surviving scattered her lingering delusions.
"Mm, works like a charm. I remade the drinks, try this. It'll suit you."
More emerald thick brew than before, infused with intent, chilled to ice.
Cold numbs the bitterness, emphasizes sweetness.
Shake the bottle briskly; shaved ice mixes in, trapping air bubbles.
Cool, sweet, with fresh fruit notes, subtle green tea aroma—all perfectly blended.
"…O, oooh."
Song Seolryeong poked suspiciously like a wary cat, sniffing—recent trauma fresh—then closed her eyes and sipped the inviting scent.
"Wow! Delicious!"
Exclamation burst out, eyes sparkling.
Clean, smooth, sweet, cool.
Deep sips revealed complex aromas, yet simply delicious.
Irresistible sweetness for any woman. Far better than expected.
"Pretty good, right?"
Nod nod!
No words needed; her satisfaction shone through the gesture.
"Good, glad to hear it."
When the recipient's pleased, the giver feels good too.
So-hyang smiled and nodded back.
-----
Having served everyone a round, So-hyang turned to Qinghe Zhenren and the Sect Leader, who were now drinking among themselves.
"When pouring for elders, use both hands or support with one, respectfully…"
"Ehehe, like this?"
Who'd guess they were over two hundred? Qinghe teaching drinking etiquette, Sect Leader beaming through rose-tinted glasses—
"—Nonsense! My pretty disciple doesn't need such formalities with me! Pour as you like, my Qingha! Heh heh…."
"Oh my?"
—Or so she thought, but Qinghe Zhenren came on strong…?
Already buzzed, he swigged freely, laughing uproariously in drunken bliss.
"Y-Yes, pretty…."
Qinghe babbled dangerously unaware, while the Sect Leader flushed crimson, eyes glinting ominously.
"Ahaha, never dreamed I'd share drinks with my disciple like this! How could I hold back such joy…!"
"Me too, so… so good…!"
"Right? Feels good!"
The Sect Leader slowly, languidly caressed her tiny master's adorable fingers.
"Hahk, hahk…!"
From fingers to forearm, slyly shifting from facing seats to side-by-side, carefully linking arms.
"Hahaha, Qingha, another?"
"Yes, please."
Unaware or unconcerned by the shift, Qinghe grinned dopily, tilting the bottle her way.
"Master, let me pour you one too."
"Good, perfect!"
Tilting the bottle naturally tilted the Sect Leader's body with it.
Like a constricting snake, her linked arm tightened; soft flesh beneath robes mashed against master's arm, corners of her mouth tearing upward.
"Wh-what…?"
Song Seolryeong, watching beside So-hyang, blurted question marks.
Eyes bulging perfectly "round with shock," her flushed drunken glow drained to pale white.
That indecent bathhouse talk before—could it be real?
Watching her sect's elder, the Wudang Sect Leader, lust after and try to pounce on her master…?
"Th-this… we can't keep watching…!"
Song Seolryeong grasped the situation fast.
If, god forbid, the Sect Leader really went for her grandmaster…!
"Drink, drink…!"
She couldn't watch.
Snatching the strongest fiery liquor bottle, she chugged desperately.
"Ugh, urk, bitter…!"
Thud—head hit floor, passed out.
"Such a fussbudget."
So-hyang watched Song Seolryeong's dramatic survival throes with amusement.
She got the reason for the fear, but the flailing little animal act was entertaining.
And an even more intriguing spectacle was right there, drawing So-hyang's gleaming eyes.
"Ehehe, my dear disciple…."
Qinghe Zhenren was now blackout drunk, oblivious to his disciple's actions.
"Hahk, hahk…!"
The Sect Leader panted openly, breaths hot and ragged.
Her hand delved deeper into master's body, inching toward inner thigh and chest—the demonic hand reaching out.
"Oh my oh my, I said take it slow, but you're speeding up instead?"
Deeply regretting the lack of popcorn and soda.