The Crimson Rage of That Time of the Month
To be honest, you had to understand this much. Cheong’s favorite activities looked like this: murder, crushing, torture, execution. Bathing in blood. Doing it herself was great, and just watching was just as good. All of it happened in the middle of fights. She didn’t actually like fighting itself, though. A fight where you couldn’t enjoy your hobbies was nothing more than labor. Annoying, exhausting, and difficult. That was exactly why Cheong couldn’t get into the mood while dealing with the Cannibal Demon Army. And on top of that, a spar? A friendly little match? Why the hell would anyone do that when there were perfectly good life-or-death duels available? There had to be some flesh getting sliced open and bones to admire for the physical effort to be worth it. Besides, before becoming Seomun Su-rin’s disciple, Cheong had never even experienced a proper spar. After becoming her disciple, the only “spars” she ever had were getting brutally beaten under the pretext of training. She was sick to death of the very word.
On top of all that, Cheong’s mental state was extremely foul. Moreover, the young man wasn’t some old-timer like the Old Man of the Grotto. She had no particular reason to respect him. He wasn’t an evil person, so she couldn’t toy with him for fun, but that didn’t mean she had to hide her rotten mood either.
“What the hell is this guy? Fuck off.”
The young man’s face went slack. Those were the kind of harsh words he usually only heard from close friends.
“Are… are you speaking to me?”
“Why? Is there someone else here?”
“To use such vulgar language the first time we meet…”
“Oh, so asking for a spar the moment you meet someone is just overflowing with courtesy? Do I look that easy to you? Just because I’m a woman wandering around by myself?”
After she said it, a sudden wave of pathetic sorrow surged up her throat. Who the hell thinks I wanted to end up like this? Her mouth moved before she could stop it.
“A young master dressed in fine clothes can just demand a spar out of nowhere and that’s fine? You think it’s okay to barge in like that because I’m just some random bitch who rolled in from who knows where?”
Cheong’s words came out like a machine gun on full auto. It was a complete, total explosion.
The young man had certainly been rude. But the timing was absolutely terrible. Cheong’s irritation had already risen to her throat, on the verge of spilling over. Shake it without reading the room, and of course it would pour out.
“Miss, I believe there’s a misunderstanding. I truly had no such intention.”
Then Cheong suddenly straightened her posture. She corrected her slouch, straightened her spine, brought her hands together modestly, and put on a soft, gentle expression with the slightest hint of a frown. When she opened her mouth, a beautiful voice flowed out—her original tone mixed with gentle charm.
Cheong wasn’t incapable of acting feminine. She simply didn’t. If she put her mind to it, she could do it perfectly. The nuclear noogie was a magnificent leap forward that had advanced the entire Murim education system to the next dimension.
“No, no, that’s not what I—”
“I really go through every kind of humiliating situation you can imagine. Just how sinful is this girl’s small wish to drink some alcohol, lie down alone, and sleep quietly, that every random bastard and his brother feels the need to act like a clown in front of her and collapse?”
In truth, the young man had a long-standing habit of rushing over whenever he spotted an unusual swordsman. While staying briefly at the Taepyeong Sword Gate, he had come to watch after hearing that an unidentified female master had appeared. Then, upon seeing the sword leaning against the table, he had unconsciously blurted out another sparring request.
It was absolutely not because he looked down on Cheong for being a woman. Still, there was a grain of truth in what she said. A sparring request from a precious young master of a powerful clan had never once caused problems before. Who in the world would dare refuse the Young Master of the Namgung Clan?
“Um, Miss? Could you calm down a little—”
Calm down? Do I look like I’m in any condition to calm down?
Cheong began her second eruption.
“Ugh. You really have to experience it yourself to understand! You wanna taste menstruation too? If you actually felt what a period is like with your own body, you wouldn’t be telling me to calm down!”
“Uh…”
Namgung Sinjae was completely flustered and floundering.
“You think it feels good to have blood pouring out of you nonstop for no reason? My arms and legs already feel like they’re weighed down with iron, my chest is heavy enough to kill me, and now it’s all swollen on top of that so I can’t even sleep! I drank some alcohol so I could pass out, and now you want a spar? Like I’m in any condition to be sparring right now!”
Having spat fire in every direction, Cheong shot up from her seat. She grabbed her luggage, slung it onto her back, and strapped on the sword that had been leaning against the table. Then she neatly gathered the five additional trophy longswords against her chest and strode out with her head held high.
The First Instructor of the Taepyeong Sword Gate, the One-Eyed Sword Zaksongmun, who had been watching the entire scene, panicked.
Why is she taking our sword?
But he couldn’t possibly hand over a weapon bearing the sect’s emblem to an outsider. Zaksongmun quickly reached out.
“Miss? Wait, where are you going? We still need to talk—”
“I’m going to bleed! Why?!”
He immediately regretted reaching out. Zaksongmun cursed himself.
---
Whether it was anger or sorrow, something had risen all the way to the top of her head, so Cheong simply stayed shut up in her room. It felt closer to sorrow. She was sad about what she had lost, and her situation was miserable. So with her uncomfortable body, she forced herself to sleep. She would drift off lightly, then wake up soon after, repeating the cycle. Her hazy mind couldn’t tell whether this was a dream or reality, whether she was truly awake or not. Her head hurt from sleeping too much, yet she had no strength to get up and only felt lethargic. She simply lay there, breathing. Even breathing wasn’t easy.
How many times had the sun risen and set? At some point she opened her eyes. The sun was already high in the sky. Her body felt refreshed. To be precise, only her body felt refreshed. The memories came rushing back and crashed over her. People called this karma.
“Fuck…”
Cheong covered her face with both hands. How utterly embarrassing. Ugh. Fuck. She always got painful and sensitive around this time, but she had never thrown such a disgraceful tantrum before.
Cheong glanced at the corner of the guest room. No less than six swords were lined up there in perfect order, leaning uselessly against the wall. It was the Wolgwang-geom (No. 8) along with the five trophy swords.
Was she actually insane? Why the hell had she meticulously brought those along too?
Among Seomun Su-rin’s teachings was a strict warning not to seize weapons that had been uniformly produced for members of a sect. If you took mass-produced sect weapons, they would definitely come to retrieve them later. It was obvious. It became a matter of the sect’s face. From a modern Korean perspective one might think “who cares about face,” but in the Central Plains, face was no trivial thing. After all, losing “face” meant…!
Besides face, there were practical problems. If you killed someone on the roadside and planted a weapon on them, framing someone became ridiculously easy. Even if the false charge was later cleared, you still had to share some responsibility. There were various other advanced applications of the same principle.
Therefore, do not take weapons bearing sect emblems. When asked how she had survived so far with such terrible common sense, it was advice her master had given in a panic.
Collecting and selling random junk was basic, but…
Cheong pushed the old memories aside. She sat quietly and organized what had happened yesterday.
Honestly, it had turned into something like a tantrum. But really, this had to be understood. If they experienced it themselves, they wouldn’t be able to say a single word. This kind of shittiness was real. Really, really real.
After finishing her mental fortification, Cheong left the room. First, she needed to fill her empty stomach. She headed down to the first floor.
And there she met the person who had been waiting for her.
“Ah. Miss. Is your… condition alright now?”
“…Yes.”
After that, Cheong stayed shut up in her room for three more days. During that time, rumors spread like wildfire through Anqing. They said the Young Sword King Namgung Sinjae had asked a woman who was on her period for a spar and thoroughly humiliated her. No matter how badly he lacked opponents, how could he do something like that to a menstruating woman?
Rumors naturally grow fatter as they spread. That Namgung Sinjae had done it on purpose to shame her, that the woman had run away crying, and so on.
Fortunately, since it was Anqing near Hefei and an internal matter of Anhui Province, the rumor stopped developing there. In Anhui, if you badmouthed the Namgung Clan and got caught, your head could fly off even in broad daylight.
Anyway, Namgung Sinjae had to take responsibility for the rumor and apologize.
In truth, even Namgung Sinjae felt a tiny bit wronged. If he had known, he never would have asked for a spar. But it was also the kind of question you absolutely should not ask a woman. In the end, a man was supposed to figure it out through observation, and how could he possibly know upon first meeting someone?
Still, he acknowledged that skipping even basic introductions and immediately requesting a spar had been wrong. So he asked a nearby elder of the Beggars’ Sect for help. Thanks to the Beggars’ Sect’s information network, the Old Man of the Grotto was able to locate the inn where the nameless girl was staying.
The still-nameless girl. Even the Old Man of the Grotto hadn’t learned Cheong’s name and had only received vague personal information. It was a complete mess.
“Miss, I sincerely apologize for what happened last time. Had I known your condition, I would never have committed such rudeness.”
“Well… then let’s just pretend it never happened.”
Cheong, who had plenty to feel guilty about, nodded.
“Then allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Namgung Sinjae of the Namgung Clan, the greatest sword family under heaven, from Hefei.”
“Ohh.”
Cheong let out an impressed sound. The greatest sword family under heaven. They really were still around.
When Namgung Sinjae made a face like he might have misheard, Cheong quickly continued.
“I’m Seomun Cheong.”
She spoke shortly, having nothing much else to say. The mess she had caused yesterday made things awkward too.
Instead, Namgung Sinjae acted overly familiar.
“I heard from Elder Grotto that Miss has reached the late stage of the Peak Realm.”
The Old Man of the Grotto kept secrets strictly, but Cheong had never said her realm was a secret when she revealed it. Of course the old man hadn’t pulled any tricks. He had simply judged that she wasn’t particularly hiding it, since she would boast about her level whenever she felt like it.
“And?”
“This one is ashamed to admit he is still only at the initial stage. So, with that said…”
Namgung Sinjae’s eyes sparkled as he continued.
“Miss, let us spar. No—this Namgung earnestly begs you. Please.”
Cheong looked at Namgung Sinjae with half-lidded eyes.
No. This guy… again?