Free Food and Free Head-Gouging
The waves of the Yangtze or whatever—the lavishly set table was far less impressive than it appeared. The pre-prepared dishes had gone cold and tasted lukewarm. The alcohol was watery, practically non-alcoholic. Even so, Cheong was enormously satisfied. Because it was free! Besides, it all made perfect sense. No open flames allowed on the boat. No drinking while swimming. Cheong shoveled food into her mouth with wild abandon.
Had Seomun Su-rin witnessed the scene, she would have unleashed a nuclear noogie carpet-bombing annihilation campaign. This was what a beauty’s meal in the Central Plains looked like: pick up a sparrow’s tear of food and delicately place it between your lips. Chew with your mouth barely open, using the tiniest jaw movements. Swallow with a slightly exaggerated motion. Maintain a faintly furrowed expression at all times to prevent wrinkles. Such was the dining etiquette of Xi Shi, the absolute beauty of all ages, said to possess a loveliness that would never appear again in past or future.
Seomun Su-rin had armed herself with powerful, subjective nuclear weapons to spread this “beautiful” dining method. As a result, Cheong could execute the supposedly exquisite technique with perfect naturalness. There was simply no resisting in front of a hawk. Anyone who could hold out before one clearly hadn’t made the hawk hungry enough.
However, Seomun Su-rin had underestimated Cheong. Her understanding of human correction was slightly lacking. The notion of hammering etiquette and grace into someone until it became habit was so revolutionary that every master in the Central Plains would have leapt to their feet to study under her. The product of that philosophy was Cheong.
She could now perfectly execute all forty-two hairstyles. The moment anything felt even slightly loose, her hands moved on their own to fix it. Her once-bold strides had shortened. Her previously reckless pace had slowed into a graceful, ladylike gait. She knew how to use inner energy to smooth wrinkles in her clothes and could sew up torn seams with flawless precision.
But habits ultimately belong to the unconscious. There are desires that transcend the unconscious, actions that could never become mere habit. Preferences, for example. Cheong had always loved the heavy, satisfying feeling of stuffing her mouth completely full. The nuclear noogies had only suppressed it. Now that she was free, there was no longer any need to hold back.
At Cheong’s voracious appetite, even Cha Nam-jeong looked slightly stunned.
“Miss, please slow down a little. There are other dishes…”
“It’s fine. I’m going to eat those too.”
“...?”
They had called her a female martial artist. Had a beggar possessed her? Did all that food go straight to her chest? Just how could she pack away so much? Cha Nam-jeong’s irritation steadily grew. What kind of woman was this? No charm, no coquettishness. She showed none of the fawning sweetness one would expect from someone aiming to become the daughter-in-law of the Bucheol Supervisory Office. There was no fun in this at all.
The real thrill came the moment the seductive mask peeled away. It was even better if she cursed and resisted, or wept and begged for her life. But with her mind completely absorbed in food, how could he not be furious? Cha Nam-jeong’s insides bubbled with rage.
Yet the moment Cheong, having roughly filled her stomach, began to enjoy the alcohol, his anger vanished as if it had never existed. Her slow, unhurried sipping was the one area that had suffered the least damage from Seomun Su-rin’s harsh nuclear noogies. Moreover, Cheong had learned Sosu Magong.
One might wonder what the cursed demonic art had to do with sipping wine, but one of Sosu Magong’s characteristics was the beautiful shape of the hands. The most elegant and beautiful hands in the world—yet also the most cruel. Slender jade fingers. The phrase never failed to appear in descriptions of the art. The skin was white to the point of transparency. The long, graceful fingers gently embracing the wine cup were the very picture of voluptuous beauty.
Leaning against the railing and drinking, Cheong’s profile radiated a demonic allure that could enchant any man. Feeling his swelling arousal, Cha Nam-jeong approached with a sleazy smile.
“Does the wine suit your taste?”
“It would be better if it were stronger.”
It was so bland it hardly felt like alcohol at all.
“That’s because I don’t want you getting drunk. A woman whose mind is muddled is no fun whatsoever.”
“Fun? What kind of fun?”
“Well…”
The men on deck rose from their seats and slowly closed in. Those surrounding Cheong drew their swords.
“Oh.”
Cheong steadied her pounding heart. Was it finally starting? Were they going to kill each other now?
“One ke. I’ll give you exactly one ke.”
“One ke?”
“We depart after one ke, so run wherever you like. If you can last half a shichen, we’ll return you safely. I swear it.”
“And if I can’t last?”
“Then you’ll share the clouds and rain with every one of us today.”
Ooh. This wasn’t a plan thrown together on the spot. Cheong felt rather pleased. In that case, she could enjoy herself with a clear conscience.
“Ah. I don’t recommend jumping overboard, by the way. We’re right in the middle of Xiling Gorge. As a method of suicide, it would be extremely painful.”
Xiling Gorge was famous for its treacherous waters. The currents above and below differed wildly, with whirlpools that plunged and surged everywhere. The river itself had turned a muddy yellow. It was a dangerous stretch where even decent martial artists would be swept away without being able to swim a stroke.
“Hmm.”
Cheong walked forward slowly. The sword-wielding men tilted their bodies as if opening a path. They didn’t actually step aside, but the implication was clear: if you want to pass, rub up against us.
Cheong did not walk between them. Instead, she grabbed a man’s blade with her bare hand. Then, as casually as snapping a flowering branch, she broke the sword cleanly in two.
Cheong clenched and opened the hand that had gripped the blade. The long, crumpled strip of steel clattered to the deck. The atmosphere, previously filled with vulgar chuckling, froze solid in an instant.
Cheong carefully examined her palm. Not a scratch. Not even a single pressed mark. Only then did a satisfied smile bloom on her face.
Yes. This was it. This was why she had learned that purple martial art.
Four fingers gently dug into the crown of the skull, past bone and into brain. They scooped downward through eye sockets, cheekbones, upper jaw, teeth, and lower jaw as smoothly as digging fine sand. The fingers emerged beneath the uvula.
A man with four deep gouges carved into his face collapsed with a thud. The corpse twitched. The nerves hadn’t died completely yet. From the four deep wounds in the dead man’s head, swollen brain matter bulged out obscenely.
Good heavens. Cheong shuddered in delight. She had used the entire length of every finger joint to enter and exit someone’s skull. It wasn’t a metaphor. It had been a genuine physical visit. There was a profound thrill in gouging through bone. Intense heat surged from her dantian throughout her body. A far sweeter intoxication than the bland alcohol swept through her nerves, tingling and stirring them.
Real swords and bare hands really were completely different. It was like trying to pick your nose while wearing gloves. Cheong’s mouth stretched into a grin so wide the corners nearly reached her ears.
“Can’t you understand the situation yet? Not running away? Good. Go on! My Wolgwang Sword… is over there. Let me try again.”
Cheong repeatedly clenched and unclenched her fist before speaking once more.
“Now, my Wolgwang Hand is hungry. Hide well. Make sure I don’t see your hair.”
---
Cha Nam-jeong could not comprehend the current situation. Where exactly had things gone wrong?
“What the hell is that thing! What is that bitch? Is that even human? She’s completely insane!”
“It appears we’ve provoked the wrong person.”
“What are you doing standing here?! Isn’t she just a woman? Why aren’t you going over there to grab her? Just kill her! I wouldn’t touch that filthy bitch even if you paid me.”
The guard shrank his neck.
“Young master, that woman is a real expert…”
“What? Then are you a fake expert? She’s still just one woman! How many strong men do we have here?”
“Young master, when you strike a person’s head, isn’t it normal for it to crack or explode?”
“Obviously.”
“But that woman scooped out bone and flesh like mud. You couldn’t do that even with a sword.”
The guard shuddered violently. Even if such a thing were possible, actually performing it was an entirely different matter. The guard looked genuinely terrified. Only then did Cha Nam-jeong’s anger vanish, leaving only a deathly pale face.
“W-what are you saying?”
“Even if everyone here worked together, we couldn’t win. We absolutely cannot win. We’ve messed with the wrong person—properly this time.”
“What are you talking about?! You clearly said she was an easy target!”
“That’s not what matters. What matters is that no matter how strong a Murim expert is, turning the Bucheol Supervisory Office into an enemy would be far too burdensome.”
Cha Nam-jeong’s expression brightened with hope.
“Then…?”
“Calm her down gently and bribe her with valuables. Judging by how she ate, she must be from some poor sect. Money should be enough to resolve this.”
“You think so? Yeah, that could work, right?”
It was then that they heard it.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Excuse me, is anyone inside? I thought I heard murmuring from this direction…”
Cha Nam-jeong and the guard clapped hands over each other’s mouths.
“Not here? Did I hear wrong…? Strange.”
After those words, silence fell. The two remained with hands clamped over each other’s mouths for a long time before slowly lowering them. At that exact moment, fingers sprouted naturally from the cabin door. Without a sound, as if passing straight through the wood, they slid downward. A long crack followed like a tail.
The pair exchanged frantic glances and pressed themselves against the wall beside the door. An overwhelming, horrific presence emanated from beyond it. The killing intent was truly oppressive.
“Really not here? I waited for nothing. I thought you were just pretending.”
Only then did the sound of footsteps slowly fade into the distance.
For a long while afterward, the two stood like statues. Only after far more than one ke had passed did they finally release ragged breaths.
“Is that a person or a ghost?”
“I don’t know. The gangho is so vast…”
The guard suddenly stopped speaking.
“Young master…”
“What?”
“When walking inside the boat… can you hear footsteps?”
“Of course you hear footsteps when walking. What are you suddenly—?”
“Usually… there’s the sound of wood creaking…”
“Huh?”
The two froze simultaneously. Cold sweat poured down like a waterfall. Creaking stiffly, they turned toward the door. Through the long vertical hole carved into the cabin door, their eyes met exactly with the gaze watching them from the other side.