That Vague Something
Honestly, you had to cut her some slack. Cheong never knew a damn thing about anything, but this particular mess was on another level. She didn't know the Water Fortress. She didn't know the Yangtze River. She didn't know Dongting Lake. Bucheol... whatever the hell that was. Government ranks were a nightmare to remember. The Cannibal Demon Army? She never bothered memorizing anyone weaker than her. In the end she'd simply been hooked by the promise of a free dinner and tagged along, yet somehow she'd wound up as everyone's hero. Sure, the Cannibal Demon Army had been strong enough that calling it "just taking out one villain for them" was a stretch, but all's well that ends well. The Yangtze River Water Sect was a business that had seized real wealth, and for that reason their treatment of their benefactor was impeccable. They even prepared a special event just for her.
Fortress Master Bok Ha-un didn't even have time to properly grieve his lost son. He first had to block the government's interference. Fortunately the Bucheol Regional Inspector had been turned into an idiot, which gave him the perfect excuse to tidy up their relationship. Connections could only be traded when the other side had a clear flaw. He pinned every crime on the bizarre figure known as Eon Yeonyeong and began searching for a new backer to align with. So Bok Ha-un sublimated the grief of losing his son in a different way—through hatred for the traditionalist scum.
The name "traditionalist" itself was laughable. It was basically saying, We've always been bandits, so let's keep living as bandits. Words should at least sound like words. Still, because they had once been someone's friends and were descendants of the previous generation of Water Sect elders, he had turned a blind eye. He had believed that once they tasted abundance and the dignity of an honest profession they would change. Bok Ha-un's faith was betrayed. Now the Water Sect Master's conviction had hardened. I was far too soft about innovation. Innovation begins with farewell to the old generation!
Coincidentally, it was the same idea that had once marked a turning point in human history in some distant future or alternate past. This was the latent power of a group that had shared the same culture for a long time. Its name was national character. And so, with single-minded devotion and a calling dyed a deep, vivid red, he finished steeling himself to shatter tradition.
The traditionalist fools were dragged out tied up in ropes and executed one after another. For the executions the benefactor of the Water Sect personally stepped forward. With a loose, good-natured smile on her face, she performed the divine feat of slicing people's heads off with clean, ringing chops. That was when it began—the moment people started showing clear signs of avoidance.
Cheong read the atmosphere and thought, These bastards are seriously impossible to associate with. They kept stabbing her in the back. They said they'd escort her but then locked her in a room with a lunatic. When she exposed Eon Yeonyeong's true identity they tried to sell her out. Now they were giving off vibes that said they wished she'd just disappear. All that talk about her being their eternal benefactor, and yet.
Still, she liked the Dragon King Plaque they gave her as a parting gift. The Dragon King Plaque represented the Yangtze River Water Sect's will to treat its owner with the highest possible courtesy. There was only one greatest courtesy a bandit could show: under no circumstances would they collect passage fees. Any ship carrying the owner of the Dragon King Plaque passed free of charge. It might not seem like much of a personal benefit at first glance, but that wasn't the case. The dream of every vessel traveling the Yangtze was to possess the Dragon King Plaque. Its owner received hospitality rather than paying boarding fees. It was essentially a free pass to the entire Yangtze.
Cheong was someone who didn't think deeply about anything. She was also someone who shouldn't think deeply. That was why her execution power was unrivaled under the heavens. She hopped aboard a boat and set out onto the river.
Meanwhile, throughout the entire journey, one thought kept occupying Cheong's mind. Yes, that moment. When she had used the sixth form of the Yeorae Shinjang, the Yeouiryun Bodhisattva. At that time... something had been different. Something, somehow, a bit like... something, somehow, like that...
It was the thought Cheong kept circling back to. Something. Literally, something. A frustrating feeling that seemed just within reach yet slipped away every time she tried to grasp it. It was far more intense than the vague sorrow of sitting down to eat and knowing you crave something specific without knowing what it is. She had used the Yeorae Shinjang effectively during critical moments. But that time the sensation had been completely different. The internal energy that usually moved like a machine had sung of the end of the human world, or something like that—ah, fuck. Still, she had this intense premonition that if she just thought about it a little longer, just a little more carefully, she would understand.
Cheong felt like she would die from frustration, but in truth this phenomenon was a precursor to an impending realization. The way Cheong used martial forms was essentially copy-paste. She unconsciously pulled out techniques that had been forcibly imprinted onto her body and mind. It wasn't actually that strange a method. Warriors from prestigious families learned the same way—repeating movements tens of thousands of times until they were firmly imprinted in both head and body, then refining them through sparring and real combat. In that manner they built their own forms, their own style of martial learning. The only difference for Cheong was that she had crammed the long, ten-year imprinting process into one massive burst.
And right now, as Cheong stood before that faint understanding—the embodiment of martial learning—it had begun.
---
Cheong's speech, in Seomun Su-rin's words, was "rougher than a rampaging colt." Cheong had never seen a rampaging colt, so the expression didn't resonate with her at all. Of course, the standards of the Grand Matriarch who presided over the women's mountain paradise were extremely strict. Still, even Seomun Su-rin eventually gave up and let it be. Part of it was the lonely old woman's softness toward her pretty disciple who clung to her without reservation. But the biggest reason was the insight that came with age.
Cheong wasn't incapable of speaking in a feminine manner. She simply chose not to. Cheong herself wasn't consciously aware of this. But it was a world where her body, gender, and even her name had changed. It was a completely alien place where the very world itself had changed. That manner of speech, which sounded bizarre to the people of the Central Plains, was a protective barrier erected by her unconscious mind—an instinctive defense trying to safeguard the self that existed only in memory.
Because she was like this, there were times that were even harder. The woman's time known as menstruation. She had no confidence she could endure it aboard the boat, so she disembarked the moment they reached a docked city. She ran straight to a fabric shop. The female owner took one look at Cheong's complexion and gave her a pitying gaze. It was a look of sympathy Cheong wanted absolutely nothing to do with. She bought a massive amount of cotton cloth.
"Fuck..."
Every single joint ached. The places where muscle met bone throbbed, making it hard to stay still, yet moving was exhausting. Even her beloved gourmet adventures lost all appeal. There were junior disciples in the Sinnyeo Sect who groaned and suffered in agony. In Cheong's case the pain wasn't severe, but it was a dull, lukewarm ache that lasted all day. Her stomach hurt. Her chest hurt even more than her stomach. It felt bruised. Above all, this leaking sensation was disgusting.
Ah. Really. She wanted to slaughter someone! Wasn't there any Ma Du around?!
For that reason Cheong was on a razor's edge. Any villains unlucky enough to cross her path during this time ended up ruined even if they hadn't started any trouble. Shutting herself in her room felt suffocating. But when she went outside she only grew more irritated. It was practically a mental illness. What should she do at times like this? Watching villains have their organs put on display was the best, but that wasn't something easily done in a city. Instead she figured she should just drink until she felt hazy. She needed to reach the Transcendent realm quickly!
According to Seomun Su-rin, once she attained the Transcendent realm and underwent Body Reconstruction, a woman's time would pass at a merely ordinary level. But what the fuck was she supposed to do about it? Telling her. Telling her!
Cheong forced the scream down with alcohol. The bitter, astringent cheap liquor burned her insides, letting her forget the other pain. In this manner, in one corner of the tavern, a bomb without a fuse was slowly heating up.
Therefore, today's incident couldn't really be blamed on the Taiping Sword Sect. They had simply come, as they always did, to collect this month's protection fee. It was just that this happened after Jo Ho-bang had tried to expand their business and forcibly recruited new customers.
"If it's this month's protection fee, I already gave it to the heroes of Jo Ho-bang..."
"Is that so?" The Taiping Sword Sect warrior thought for a moment before asking, "But what does that have to do with us?"
The owner was stunned. "What do you mean by that..."
"What does a private contract you made have to do with our Taiping Sword Sect? We have our own separate agreement, don't we?"
"Then the protection fee you're demanding..."
"Look here, Boss Geum. Tsk. Something seems off. It almost sounds like we're committing extortion. Isn't it only proper to pay since the Taiping Sword Sect is protecting all of you?"
Boss Geum asked with a tearful expression, "Then what about the protection fee I already paid to Jo Ho-bang?"
The warrior asked back, puzzled, "Why are you asking me when you're the one who gave it?"
A thousand fires roared inside Boss Geum's chest. If that was how it was, what had all the protection money paid until now been for? Hadn't he paid diligently to keep bastards like Jo Ho-bang away? Yet Boss Geum begged with a servile face. The one holding the sword was king, and the fault lay with Boss Geum who held no blade. Besides, this kind of thing couldn't even be called an incident. It was simply daily life in the Central Plains. In extreme cases some shops paid protection fees to four different Murim factions. It was Boss Geum's own mistake for opening his store in that ambiguous spot between two factions' territories. Everything was Boss Geum's fault.
Cheong felt genuine pity at the sight. Not because she sympathized with the sorrows of self-employed people, whether in the modern world or the Murim. It was because of the evil deeds committed by these pathetic warriors. The Taiping Sword Sect claimed to be part of the White Path righteous faction, and they weren't all that bad. The worst among them had a karma score of -56, while the best was around -3. For men who lived by the sword, they had lived fairly decent lives. They were more upright than the men who had remained in the painting during the Seomun family drift incident.
So Cheong agonized. Punishing evil deeds of at least three digits was the firm standard she had set for herself. If she compromised even once, it would eventually spiral out of control and she would become a crazy indiscriminate murderer. Then, if that really happened... maybe just beating them up a little would be okay? If they did bad things, they should get hit, right? Looking at their karma, these guys who called themselves the righteous faction deserved it all the more.