A Tavern Disturbance and a Suspicious Old Beggar
Honestly, this part needs some understanding. The fact that Cheong had made up her mind was something only Cheong knew. So everyone else simply went about their usual business. The Taiping Sword Gate demanded their rightful compensation as protectors once again. Manager Jang tried protesting his innocence. But the warriors from the Taiping Sword Gate were, in truth, nothing more than low-ranking grunts in the organization. They had no authority to decide whether protection fees should be collected or not. In the end, Manager Jang was forced to hand over the money. It was a future decided long ago, so the event itself wasn't particularly unusual. The real peculiarity happened somewhere else.
From the moment he entered the tavern, the third squad leader of the Taiping Sword Gate, Nam Gang-jeong, had been distracted by a certain woman. Ever since the legendary beauty of all ages, Lady Seo, had frowned in displeasure, the vast majority of the Central Plains population had developed a bizarre sexual preference for scowling faces. As an ordinary martial artist, Nam Gang-jeong's tastes were no different from the rest. And what a sight she was—that woman tilting her cup with an exhausted, vaguely uncomfortable expression toward the world! Besides, she wasn't so overwhelmingly beautiful that it made approaching her feel impossible. She seemed like someone he might actually have a chance with.
If it weren't for the strict business of his honorable sect, he would have rushed over immediately to share in her troubles. It was right then that the woman approached him. And she was even flashing him a coy, playful smile!
Dreamlike fantasies unfolded in Nam Gang-jeong's head. He really should have looked at her hands instead of her face. If he had, he might have recalled the tavern's old adage: no decent person approaches while gripping a wine bottle by the neck. Those who come with good intentions do not arrive like this. And the woman smiling slyly as she approached was most certainly not in a benevolent state.
Unfortunately, Nam Gang-jeong's happy future plans ended in the form of a physical collision between his skull and a wine bottle. It was a battle between cheap earthenware and bone. The result was exactly what anyone would have predicted.
Crash.
Shattered fragments of pottery flew through the air, mingling with the fragrance of strong liquor. Nam Gang-jeong staggered, drenched in the potent alcohol. Not from being drunk, but from taking a proper blow to the crown of his head. Still, a martial artist at the tail end of the second-class realm wouldn't collapse from a mere wine bottle. The reason for saying "tail end of the second-class" was simply that people weren't idle enough to divide mere second-class practitioners into early, middle, and late stages.
Nam Gang-jeong roared furiously. "W-what is the meaning of this!"
"Rowdiness. Disturbance. And also, um, being a complete pain in the ass," Cheong clearly explained her actions.
Normally, this would have been the point where swords were drawn. However, Cheong's appearance granted Nam Gang-jeong one final moment of restraint.
"Miss. You are currently committing a severe discourtesy toward a disciple of the Great Taiping Sword Gate. Perhaps you've had too much to drink..."
"What is this? Why can't he understand?" Cheong tilted her head. "I'm not picking a fight with the Great Taiping-whatever. I'm just causing a disturbance in a tavern."
Nam Gang-jeong pondered what the difference was between the two. Cheong kindly provided the answer.
"You took the protection fee, didn't you? Isn't the protection fee what you get for guarding a shop against people who commit rowdiness, disturbances, and act like pains in the ass?"
"......?"
Cheong pointed at herself with a long finger.
"Right here. Pain in the ass."
She curled her finger back and thrust her fist forward. Nam Gang-jeong's jaw twisted slightly. Then Cheong's opposite fist drew a perfect arc. The twisted jaw was corrected. Though the follow-up strike carried a bit more force, causing his head to whip dramatically in the other direction.
After being punched in the jaw, Nam Gang-jeong staggered and collapsed with a thud. Cheong cracked her knuckles and shook out her hands.
"There. Now we've added disturbance to the list. Are you all just going to watch?"
Those words became the signal. Even so, they never drew their blades in the end. It wasn't because they were from the righteous path. It was simply because the tendency to underestimate female martial artists in the Central Plains wasn't something new. Besides, since these were just door-to-door debt collectors, their martial prowess couldn't be anything special.
Cheong struck, deflected, punched, and swung. When she grabbed a wrist and pulled, two men went crashing down together. When she lightly kicked the shin of a man charging from the right, he clutched it with both hands and rolled across the floor.
"This is no ordinary skill! Everyone, draw your swords!"
Nam Gang-jeong, having recovered from his brief concussion, shouted as he charged in. Even so, he was still adorably outmatched. Cheong was fighting while completely suppressing her internal energy. If she used it, she wouldn't be hitting them—she'd be exploding them. But even without internal energy, Cheong was originally a natural-born powerhouse. The ability stats that increased alongside her mastery of martial arts had accumulated, making her now one of the strongest in the Central Plains through pure physical strength alone. Her base stats had been exceptional from the start. This was also why Cheong had been able to survive the early days in Murim, where blade fights were everyday occurrences, despite having no knowledge and carrying the soft heart of a modern person.
While Cheong was weaving between swords and precisely targeting painful spots, her eyes suddenly caught the crown of a man falling forward. Huh? Me too? Can I give a nuclear noogie?
A long moment of humiliation flashed through her mind. The grace she couldn't return to her master. With that heart, this disciple shall bestow it instead.
It was exactly then that Cheong clenched her fist with her middle finger protruding.
"Stop! Stop!"
Nam Gang-jeong, who had taken quite a beating, waved his hands desperately and shouted. Both his eyes were already black and swollen.
"Thank you for showing mercy. Having realized my inadequacy, please permit us to withdraw."
It wasn't mercy—she had simply beaten him. Still, since he at least pretended to circulate internal energy, his bones weren't broken and he could stand properly.
"What? Isn't this your Taiping Sword Gate's—oh, I actually remembered it. Nice and easy to say. Anyway, aren't you the ones protecting this establishment? You're backing off just like this?"
"As I already said—"
"Enough." Cheong cut off Nam Gang-jeong's words. "I've spared your lives, so leave your swords behind instead. I need to get something out of this too."
At those words, the Taiping Sword Gate warriors exchanged glances, hesitating. Still, as their leader, Nam Gang-jeong stepped forward.
"Miss, a sword is like a swordsman's life itself."
"Enough. I'm a swordsman too, you know? Want to risk our lives in a proper blade fight?"
Cheong jerked her chin toward the table where she had been sitting. The warriors who saw the Wolgwang-geom (No. 8) resting there obediently set down their swords. The sight of the Taiping Sword Gate members leaving with their shoulders slumped was utterly forlorn.
"Whew."
It had been somewhat fun. But. As soon as the entertainment ended, the dull pain came crashing back down, along with all sorts of prickling, stinging, twisting, and cramping sensations that stabbed through her body. Cheong's face contorted. It was even leaking a bit, leaving her feeling damp and gross. Did all the women in this world live like this? Oh my god! I'm seriously so upset I couldn't reach transcendent realm, so upset!
Cheong looked for more alcohol and then realized with a start. Along with what had once been a bottle, everything had become disheveled. My drink......
"Hey, waiter......"
"Excuse me, customer."
It wasn't a waiter. The owner himself had come forward. The round bottle in his hand had an air of luxury from its packaging alone. Cheong waved her hands dismissively.
"Aigoo, you don't need to thank me or anything."
"That's not it. Please take this. And, um." Manager Kim hesitated, unable to continue. It was obvious what he couldn't say. He was probably asking her to leave.
"Look, boss. If I leave now, do you think you'll be safe? Those bastards will definitely bring their mom next time. If I'm not here, they'll beat you up instead. Don't you think? Have you been running this business for just a day or two?"
This was something Cheong had learned through experience. Bastards affiliated with Murim factions always ran away to bring their mom or some equivalent figure. When Cheong had been living as a bottom-feeder, she had taken a big hit and had no choice but to flee. But now? I am. A high-level expert. An incredibly high-level expert. Though, admittedly, a high-level expert in very bad condition.
"I'll clean up all the aftermath here, so just bring me the alcohol. Argh, so annoying. Damn it." Cheong's irritation overflowed.
Manager Kim retreated to the kitchen—or wherever it was—with a fed-up expression. Cheong peeled off the oil-treated cloth covering the jar. The moment she opened it, a powerful aroma of liquor hit her. Though it was a jar only the size of a child's head, at her level of mastery she could pour without spilling a single drop even into tiny cups that held about five beans' worth. After drinking it, she couldn't tell if this was liquor or pure spirit. Which was exactly why she liked it.
As she was downing several cups in succession without any snacks, an old beggar approached and spoke to her.
"Excuse me, young benefactor."
"What do you want? I'm not buying anything. Go away." Cheong waved her arm rudely.
"Hehe, how cold-hearted our young benefactor is."
"Grandpa. I have quite a few bad memories with beggars, you know? Even if I'm being cold, please be grateful that I still show respect to the elderly, alright?"
"Hehe......"
"Or I could just attack an elderly person outright."
Cheong had always been weak toward older people. Here, "older people" didn't mean simply older than her. It referred to those whose wrinkles could no longer be hidden, people with little time left in this world.
"Ahem, ahem." The old man cleared his throat. At the same time, he strangely fumbled at his waist. It was as if he was trying to get her to look there. When Cheong glanced over, his clothes were those of a complete beggar, but the rope tied at his waist was a stiff, brand-new one.
Cheong knew these kinds of beggars. They were the really strong ones. In this ancient China, even beggars learned martial arts, and those types carried ropes like that around their waists. As was usually the case with Cheong's knowledge, she had learned this through personal experience. And as was usually the case with Cheong's knowledge, it was rather shallow.
But now Cheong was a high-level expert. No matter how strong a beggar might be, a beggar was still a beggar. She wasn't afraid.