Your Honor, It Was All the Cat's Doing!
Once that was settled, Cheong turned her attention back to the exchange window. For now, she would efficiently max this one out at level six and leave the rest on hold. If she ever lost her mind later, she could raise it gradually and treat it like a purification spell.
After completing the two-thousand-point exchange, Cheong summoned the next window and immediately scowled.
“Why three thousand points…”
Shouldn’t it have been two thousand five hundred after two thousand? Why jump straight to three thousand? She grumbled under her breath, feeling wronged, but experience had already taught her that exchanges of this type gradually devoured more and more resources. It was practically common sense by now. From here on, each new exchange would cost a thousand points instead of five hundred.
What frightened her even more was the possibility that the next ones might cost fifteen hundred, or even two thousand. She had no idea how many she could even afford with a thousand points. If she had known this would happen, she would have postponed the Muscle Tendon Change Classic.
But regret always came too late. Had the Muscle Tendon Change Classic itself been sentient, it probably would have offered the teaching of “no take-backs”: “Patron, what will you do now that you have already learned it? The original Buddha has taken its seat in your dantian. Is this not this monk’s victory?”
The two free martial arts she thought remained had actually been only one. Her expected future income had also been slashed in half.
Cheong let out a long sigh and dismissed the exchange window. She decided it would be best to subtly ask her master later before making any final choices.
She then opened the martial arts window and raised the Muscle Tendon Change Classic to level six.
Muscle Tendon Change Classic — Level 6
Cheong stared at the martial arts window for a long time. Then she focused on a single point. The bar filled steadily, the numbers shifted, and it finally reached the twelfth level—Great Success.
Sosu Magong — Great Success
From the elbows down, the arms become as indestructible as diamond. A perfect counter to sword gang.
She still couldn’t sense the transcendent realm, and she needed more ways to oppose condensed sword qi. Besides, she had the old man to help test its performance. And above all else—blocking sword gang with her bare hands? How cool was that?
Roughly calculating her remaining training points, Cheong poured everything into one last purple martial art, raising it all the way to the twelfth level.
Yeorae Shinjang — Great Success
When she thought about it, no other martial art had been as consistently helpful as Yeorae Shinjang, even if the “feel” of it left something to be desired.
Cheong loosely tested the new forms that had burrowed into her brain like parasites. The sight of her right hand executing Sosu Magong while her left unleashed Yeorae Shinjang was truly spectacular. Anyone watching would have rubbed their eyes and muttered, “I’m seeing hallucinations with perfect vision—what’s the point of having eyes at all!”
Freely using two completely different martial arts simultaneously with each hand was itself an awe-inspiring feat. It was a difficult technique normally only possible through peerless divine arts or by developing the upper dantian.
But Cheong had never trained her body the normal way. She simply pulled preset movements from her mind, so left hand or right hand made no difference. In many ways, she was shamelessly reaping rewards without having sown the effort.
Or… maybe she should learn some kicking techniques? Sword in one hand, tearing with the other, shooting palm winds, and throwing kicks when necessary. Cheong considered this a rather brilliant idea.
Yet when she searched the martial arts window for leg techniques, there were no purple skills at all. Only one gold technique—Musanggak—and barely any with even red borders.
What was this? Were leg techniques underdeveloped? Had it just been a demo?
Unable to contain her curiosity, Cheong asked. Choe-ri-ong clicked his tongue and answered in his usual grumpy tone.
“The feet are the beginning of all martial arts. Whether you thrust out a spear, a blade, or a fist, the foot moves first to support the body and generate power. Nearly every martial art is used alongside footwork. That’s why learning kicking methods is pointless. They can’t be combined with hand techniques like left-hand arts or empty-hand methods. It’s enough to learn one as a single trick move.”
“Ah. Then the martial art called Musanggak…”
“Musanggak is a Shaolin specialty, isn’t it? Their roots are in empty-hand techniques, so they at least bothered to create a few foot tricks.”
“Oh. Shaolin.”
“Still, it wouldn’t hurt for a woman to learn one. A woman’s skeletal structure is naturally suited to leg techniques, and using them as a ‘gentleman’s kick’ makes them very difficult for opponents to deal with. Ask your master—she’ll teach you at least one.”
The so-called gentleman’s kick wasn’t a specific named art. It simply referred to leg techniques performed while wearing a skirt. Because the shape of the legs could be hidden beneath the fabric, the power was effectively doubled.
In one sense it was a rather underhanded trick, but who would dare criticize a woman for wearing a skirt? As long as no man tried to wear one just to enjoy the technique himself, there was no problem.
That said, fighting in a skirt was inconvenient. The fabric could tangle and obstruct footwork, creating a disadvantage. It wasn’t something worth deliberately training for. This was exactly why female martial artists preferred those scandalously high-slit skirts.
Thus the mystery was solved. Leg techniques were trash!
If the Shaolin monks had heard this conclusion, they would have nodded with crumpled faces. It wasn’t that Musanggak or the Demon-Subduing Lotus Whirl Kick weren’t excellent techniques, but it was simply better to learn other divine arts instead.
“Hmm, Gramps. If I could only learn one more martial art, what do you think it should be?”
“Well… I would recommend the Ziha Divine Art.”
“Ziha Divine Art?”
“Don’t you handle multiple types of true qi with that special ability of yours?”
“Huh? You knew about that?”
“How could I not?”
Choe-ri-ong snorted.
He himself had dispersed his demonic arts and obtained a far more valuable divine art, ultimately profiting greatly, though he had broken all his previous cultivation in the process. Yet Cheong had absorbed them smoothly and now wielded many different colored qis, so he had assumed there must be a way to use them without conflict. Since he had never seen the purple energy of Jajeon Magong, he thought she was simply being cautious of others’ eyes.
“The Ziha Divine Art and Jajeon Magi look similar to the naked eye, so no one would be able to tell them apart. If you learn it, you could use it without worrying about being noticed.”
However, Choe-ri-ong had misunderstood.
Cheong wasn’t choosing not to use Jajeon Magi. She simply couldn’t use it yet. Jajeon Magong was originally an art that should erupt wildly according to the user’s emotions and manifest in the shape of lightning.
In reality, it spent day and night desperately fleeing from the Joyful True Qi. Like the other demonic arts, it had no chance to do anything except continue its pathetic run. The demonic arts had even hatched an adorable little conspiracy—raising their power through automatic training to oppose the Joyful True Qi—but it had been thwarted by the first Buddha and completely collapsed before the second.
At any rate, Cheong, who didn’t particularly care about Jajeon Magi, wanted a different answer.
“Something other than an internal energy method?”
“If it’s swordsmanship, then the Taiji Hui Sword would be best. Its profound principles connect with the laws of the world, so it should aid your overall progress as well.”
“Whoa. Taiji!”
Ziha Divine Art, Taiji Hui Sword.
When Cheong checked them, both were divine arts wrapped in brilliant purple borders. Come to think of it, she really had been neglecting swordsmanship. The Wolnyeo Sword Art she had raised to Great Success was actually the Wolnyeo Knife Art!
The Divine Girl Sword Art had a refreshing feel, but it was only blue-bordered. Seomun Su-rin had judged that rather than learning new sword methods, it was far better for her to fully embody the strictly formalized peerless sword art that was the Wolnyeo Sword Art, and had therefore focused solely on “sparring” (which was really just nuclear bombardment).
In the end, Cheong didn’t have a single proper sword art. Of course, by her standards, a “proper” martial art meant only those with purple borders—the ones the world called peerless divine arts. Even gold-border techniques were only marginally useful.
Now that she thought about it, she seemed to have registered a gold sword art at some point. Why hadn’t she learned it? Had there been some side effect?
Cheong thought hard, but nothing came to mind, so she made her decision quickly.
108 Asura Swords — Level 6
Dang Nan-a seemed to have realized how difficult it was to sleep close to other people. After that incident, she stopped suggesting they share a bed.
Well. It was a privilege only someone with a dull mind like Cheong could enjoy. Trying it recklessly could backfire horribly and completely ruin one’s sleep cycle—a grave mistake.
After spending several days training like this, the day of the decisive battle finally arrived.
From morning onward, a group of thugs arrogantly kicked open the main gates of the Tang family compound and stormed in. Of course, it wasn’t a surprise attack—they had marched openly down the main road. The Sichuan Tang family’s elites, who had already received word, poured out in droves to meet the enemy.
At the very center stood a fat man who looked exactly like an embodiment of Dong Zhuo. He opened his mouth.
“Ha, you traitorous scum! His Majesty has ordered you to present yourselves of your own accord, yet you refuse to lift those heavy asses of yours, forcing this humble Lord Do-eo-sa to come in person? Just how much of the people’s blood have you leeches sucked, and how much shit have you accumulated in your bellies to weigh you down so heavily?”
Whoa. Starting off pretty strong.
Cheong recalled Dang Tu-juk’s warning: since they were openly coming to pick a fight, they must not strike first.
Dang Tu-juk replied politely.
“Present ourselves? We were clearly informed that you would be coming to us, so we were told to wait. Was that not the case?”
“Tsk tsk. Isn’t that the same thing?”
Do-eo-sa clicked his tongue again.
“Even so, the attitude of you traitors is utterly insolent. I distinctly ordered you to wait in the appearance of criminals. Is this the appearance of criminals?”
Criminals were supposed to have their hair loose, wear hemp clothing, and press their forearms and knees to the ground. Yet everyone was standing proudly on two feet.
Nevertheless, Dang Tu-juk remained dignified.
“What are you saying? We have committed no crime under heaven, so how can you label us criminals with mere false accusations? Calling an innocent person a criminal and thereby obscuring the true culprit—isn’t that itself a sin against His Majesty?”
“Ha. What a smooth tongue. Very well. Then we shall now determine whether you truly plotted treason or not. Everyone, charge in! Scrape up every single document. Leave nothing behind!”
“Ah. That would be rather difficult.”
Dang Tu-juk cut the man off.
“What? Then are you admitting that you did plot treason? That is proof that evidence exists inside!”
“That’s not what I mean. The truth is, last night a naughty stray cat broke into the warehouse and caused quite a commotion. It happened to run around with a pouch of extreme poison in its mouth, so the entire Tang family compound is now no different from a battlefield.”
It was an excuse that made no sense from the start. A poison warehouse was one of the most strictly forbidden areas, so the claim that a cat had gotten inside was already absurd. Moreover, what kind of invincible poison-proof cat runs around with an extreme poison pouch in its mouth?
Even if one generously assumed such an invincible cat existed and had raided the poison warehouse, unless it possessed an infinite pouch, how could it possibly scatter enough poison throughout the vast Tang family grounds to turn the entire place into a deadly battlefield?
Do-eo-sa was so dumbfounded that his nose felt blocked, his mind dazed by the nonsense, and his speech cut off. He could only open and close his mouth like a fish.
At that, Cheong exclaimed in genuine admiration.
Wow! Your Honor! It was all the cat’s doing!