Elegant Beauty's Massive Tits Set Even Jang Il Ablaze
"Phew, not seeing those dog bastards anywhere really clears up my chest."
The waiter said. It was the same waiter who'd been slapped by one of the Iron Blood Sect thugs. A bruise still lingered on his cheek.
"Yeah. I hope it stays like this forever."
The kitchen assistant nodded in agreement.
"Real masters are on another level. Even how they treat people shows it."
The Iron Blood Sect bastards had squeezed protection money out of them while treating the inn staff like dogs they were raising. The White Sword Sect guys were no different. But the guest who'd smashed the Iron Blood Sect crew was completely different. He only spoke about what was necessary, never ignoring or mistreating anyone.
This was a true martial artist, a real master. Not those dog-shit pretenders calling themselves murim folk.
"I overheard that guest is a seriously big deal in the murim world. Not just locally—he's a peak expert even the Central Plains respects."
"Whoa... so cool. The real deal, unlike those bastards."
The waiter's face lit up with admiration. But he soon let out a deep sigh.
"Sigh, once that guest leaves, it'll go back to shit."
"Not necessarily, though."
"Huh? Why?"
"Didn't you hear? His wife is looking for a house in Hangzhou."
"Oh?"
The waiter's eyes widened.
"With that guest around in Hangzhou, those bastards won't dare strut around like before, right?"
"No way they would. Heh heh heh."
As the waiter chuckled happily, a woman in light blue robes entered the inn. It was the Painter, Yang Yeon-hwi.
"Welcome back!"
The waiter and kitchen assistant bowed deeply. Not polite service—this came straight from the heart.
"We're leaving tomorrow morning. No breakfast, so no need to prepare."
"Ah... yes, ma'am."
"Duck roast for dinner. Same time as yesterday."
"Yes, yes, got it!"
"Thanks for your hard work."
With that, Yang Yeon-hwi headed toward the lodgings. The two stared blankly after her.
Suddenly, the waiter spoke up.
"Guess she found a place."
"Yeah."
"But man..."
"Yeah?"
"His wife is such a beauty."
"Elegantly pretty, right?"
"Face is great, but... uh... those tits are just too damn big..."
"Shh! You trying to get yourself killed, you idiot?"
"Shit... lost my mind for a sec. W-work, let's work!"
"Urk..."
Madness-inducing agony surged from his lower abdomen. Then blood welled up from deep inside, straight to his throat.
Heave!
Ak Bul-beom vomited a handful of pitch-black blood into the basin beside him. Not a trace of red—proof his internal injuries were severe. No, "severe" didn't cut it. Nearly half his dantian, a martial artist's life force, was wrecked. If he weren't a super peak expert, he'd be in a coffin by now.
"Damn... what a mess."
Ak Bul-beom muttered with a hollow, bitter smile.
The duel with Sword Seclusion. If you could even call it that.
It felt intense, exchanges flying fast—but he hadn't even nicked her sleeve.
Meanwhile...
"...She never used her blade edge once."
Swordsmanship was about wielding the edge. Cutting. But that bizarre woman only used the flat of her blade. Thicker than the edge, no sharpness to slice.
Swordplay without cutting? A lunatic swordsman using a sword like that? In this world?
...But she existed. With the moniker Sword Seclusion, no less.
"A sword without killing intent..."
He wouldn't have believed it without seeing it. Hell, he still couldn't. So he'd investigated despite his wounds.
And confirmed it: not a single person killed by Sword Seclusion.
"A monster without killing intent. Truly a freak in the murim."
The Soul-Chasing Death Ghost—himself a monster to countless martial artists—called her one. That said how shocked he was by Yu Seol-young's sword.
But.
"As long as she doesn't kill, it's all good?"
A scoff of disbelief escaped Ak Bul-beom's lips.
If she'd sliced him with the edge, he wouldn't suffer this hellish pain. But the flat, packed with power, had ravaged his insides. His lower abdomen took the hit, half his dantian shattered.
Was this even living? Worse than death.
Creak.
The door opened cautiously. Yang Yeon-hwi entered. Seeing the black blood in the basin, her face filled with pity and sorrow.
She sat beside Ak Bul-beom.
"I found a house, dear."
"Good work."
"It was rushed, so it might not be to your liking. The rooms are a bit small."
"It's fine. I don't care about that."
"Still... I worry it won't be comfortable for your recovery."
"Don't worry. My condition has nothing to do with that."
"..."
Silence fell.
Yang Yeon-hwi gazed at Ak Bul-beom's back. Covered in scars. The longest one—from twenty years ago, when he'd saved her. That's when she vowed to stay by his side forever.
She had. It was happy.
If only the aftermath hadn't left her barren. That lingering regret always tugged at her heart.
But now even that felt like a luxury. Her husband's body was ruined.
It hurt. So much.
"We'll move in tomorrow."
"Good."
"Once we're settled, I'll scout for doctors right away."
"No need. Only two in the world can heal me."
But really, just one. The other had vanished for decades.
That's why they'd come to Hangzhou—to find that one.
But it would be near impossible. He'd publicly sworn never to treat martial artists.
Yang Yeon-hwi knew. That's why she said it.
"Hangzhou has renowned physicians. One might handle your injuries."
"Sigh, fine. Do as you wish."
Understanding her heart, Ak Bul-beom relented. No expectations, though.
"Yes. I'll make it happen."
Yang Yeon-hwi wouldn't give up. She'd restore him somehow.
That was her everything now.
The Wonderful Beauty Painting Immortal is inquiring about Hangzhou's renowned physicians.
"She's moving just as expected."
Bang So-un pondered.
Up to here, it was predictable. The issue was next.
"Shouldn't we interfere somehow? If the Death Ghost recovers, we're in deep shit."
Jang Il said. Reasonable enough.
But.
"No need to go that far. If we get caught meddling, he'll go berserk and come for us."
"Worst case, yeah... but if we don't get caught?"
"How many female doctors are there?"
"Well... uh..."
Jang Il shut his mouth.
Out of a hundred physicians, maybe not even one woman. Without hypnosis, they'd need force or backroom tricks—far from perfect. Always a risk.
Bang So-un wasn't in the mood for that now.
"Even renowned doctors won't fix injuries that bad easily. If one can, it'll take ages. We find a way in the meantime."
Watch and wait. Sometimes better than rash action.
"Makes sense, young master. I jumped the gun."
Jang Il conceded readily. That was their duo's strength—acknowledging each other's strengths, accepting input if it made sense. Even from superiors.
Easy to say, hard to do. Possible because they were soulmates with matching tastes.
"Haha, no big deal. Happens."
Bang So-un laughed, changing topics.
"By the way."
"Yes?"
"They say the Painter's tits are huge. Must be massive if folks are talking."
Bang So-un preferred moderately big ones best, but huge was no problem. A rare treat.
And probably...
Jang Il liked them bigger.
"Ooh, really?"
As expected, Jang Il's eyes lit with anticipation. Then he asked,
"What about her face? Face is key!"
Face was prime for both. Most men, really.
No matter how big the tits or juicy the ass, ugly face killed the vibe. At least kind-faced like Yi Yeon to be tolerable.
"Straight-up elegant beauty, they said."
"Ooh, perfect! Elegant face with massive suckable tits? Killer combo!"
Hit Jang Il's sweet spot.
Plus, he loved stealing other men's women. Prime target to fire him up.
True to form, he grinned lecherously.
"Heh heh heh, and married too. Can't get better. Just thinking makes my dick throb."
"Haha, you're fired up—good to see. But stay cool. Table's not even set."
"Don't worry, young master. I won't flip it."
Jang Il sounded reliable. Super motivated this time.
Just guide him right and...
"Young master, you know tit-slapping? It's the best... but real flavor's rare. Now finally a pair worth it... heh heh heh heh."
...This guy's unsettling.