The Jade Qilin’s Misunderstanding
His friend, the Jade Qilin, Paeng Daesan. The most handsome man in the world, Paeng Daesan. Paeng Daesan despised that nickname. He truly loathed it. It was a title given to him simply because he was good-looking, because his face had turned out well. Anyone who smiled and accepted such a nickname had no right to call himself a martial artist.
Paeng Daesan was twenty-two. He had reached the middle stages of the Peak realm at the mere age of twenty-two. He was truly a heaven-sent talent, the most outstanding achievement even among the rising stars of this generation. And yet? Jade Qilin? The Most Handsome Man Under Heaven? Was there any greater humiliation in this world?
Just look at that Namgung brat. Namgung Sinjae, who had barely clawed his way into the early stages of Peak, was called the Young Sword King. It meant he was the next Sword King. And Namgung Sinjae was even a year older than him! That guy gets to be the Young Sword King while I’m stuck as the Jade Qilin!
So Paeng Daesan became twisted. Still, because his roots were fundamentally sincere, he did not twist too far. Instead, he simply forgot the very concept of manners when it came to the opposite sex.
In truth, it was not entirely Paeng Daesan’s fault. He was the most eligible bachelor in the current Murim. First of all, he was handsome. His voice was pleasant. He was the eldest son of one of the Five Great Clans. On top of that, the Paeng Clan was famous for being the only one among the Five Great Clans that did not engage in political marriages. Of course, this custom was maintained because they took great pleasure in treating the other major sects as “petty, small-minded, penny-pinching fools who treat marriage as a transaction.”
The Paeng Clan needs nothing trivial in marriage except pure affection! But you lot are different, aren’t you?
Furthermore, Paeng Daesan was a master. And he was destined to become an even greater master. He possessed looks, status, wealth, and skill in equal measure. Because of this, Paeng Daesan received the gazes of every woman within his radius during every waking moment—and occasionally even while asleep.
At least the women who merely watched were the better sort. Wherever Paeng Daesan walked, all manner of strange objects were left scattered on the ground. Embroidered scraps of cloth, fragrant sachets, face cloths, daggers, and even, shamefully, undergarments.
Thus, Paeng Daesan never lowered his head. He simply walked straight ahead, looking only forward. More aggressive women would attempt to throw themselves at him. The very fact that they thought to collide with a Peak realm master while pretending it was an accident already proved they were hopeless. Their egos were so bloated they believed he would catch them before they fell.
Paeng Daesan could never decide whether to laugh or sneer at the women who threw themselves to the ground. In any case, Daesan had suffered extreme romantic misfortune since childhood. He was a walking embodiment of extreme peach blossom calamity. Because of this, Paeng Daesan grew increasingly rude in the presence of women. He lost all sense of propriety. It was his way of saying he had no interest, so they should leave.
In truth, A-cheong’s approach had not surprised him. He had already encountered every conceivable bizarre romantic strategy under the sun and had even developed a rough classification system for them. If he were to categorize A-cheong, she was a mixture of the “bold woman” and “funny woman” strategies. Since successful cases of the “funny woman” strategy could be counted on one hand, he had to admit A-cheong’s move had merit.
He had laughed for the first time in a while. He had not expected the Asura remark. A remark about patricide, no less. And then came the “rough woman” strategy. Though the level of it was somewhat unexpected—such vulgar content was more suited to back-alley thugs.
But then she had struck his jaw! What on earth was that about? Was this some idiotic romance tale like “You’re the first woman who’s ever hit me”?
As a result, Paeng Daesan was genuinely furious. His already low voice sank even lower with anger.
“I’ve dealt with all sorts of crazy women, but this is a first.”
A faint killing intent laced his voice. In response, A-cheong’s Heavenly Slaughter Qi opened its eyes. A-cheong believed that shedding blood was a form of stress relief to protect her wounded heart from Murim affairs—an active solution. But in reality, once triggered, she became a true madwoman swayed by the killing intent of Heavenly Slaughter. It was a passive urge to slaughter. After all, those intoxicated by the killing intent of the Heavenly Slaughter Demonic Art were meant to find joy in slaughter and rivers of blood.
“Why’re you mad? Hehe, if you’re gonna show off your low voice, at least make it useful. Does lowering your voice actually do anything? Hehe.”
“Don’t copy me.”
“Tch, why? What’re you gonna do? Hit me?”
When it came to being cheeky, no race in this world could match modern Koreans. Paeng Daesan’s body trembled. Burning rage threatened to consume him.
“I will not tolerate any further insults.”
“I won’t tolerate any more baths either, I wanna eat steamed fish, hey!”
Clang! Sword and saber collided with a sharp ring.
“You struck first? Self-defense, is it? You really want to do this? Fine, you’ve got a good blade, so why were you all talk?”
“I won’t kill you. But I will cut out that insolent tongue.”
“Think you’ve got the skill? Go on then. Cut it. Bleh—”
A-cheong stuck out her tongue. Her unusually red tongue flicked about in a sinister manner.
“Bleh bleh bleh—”
Yet her tongue remained extended for quite some time. She truly had no sense of moderation. What kind of crazy woman was this?
At this point, Paeng Daesan’s spirit was actually broken. Though his anger had exploded and he had drawn his saber, seeing A-cheong grow even more wild and chaotic made a wave of self-loathing wash over him instead.
But he could not simply yield either. His pride as a mid-Peak realm expert would not allow it. So he would show her just a little of his mid-Peak power…
The moment he made up his mind, sword Qi manifested on A-cheong’s blade. White threads coiled and swayed visibly around it. Sword Qi. A technique of the late Peak realm.
Paeng Daesan studied A-cheong’s face. She was still shamelessly flicking her tongue, making him feel even more embarrassed. Yet as he looked at her youthful face, which had only just begun to shed its girlish appearance, another thought occurred to him.
When one surpasses the Transcendent realm and breaks through the wall beyond, they reach the Harmonious Realm, the highest stage. It was also called the Realm of Harmony. And what happens when one surpasses even that?
At that point, the body undergoes a single, miraculous restoration of youth, reversing the flow of time. This was called Youthful Restoration. A martial artist who had achieved Youthful Restoration was, in truth, a monster wearing human skin. Combat could only exist between beings of the same kind. Humans and monsters could not fight. It would not be combat, but one-sided domination.
“May I ask which senior you are?”
“What? You’re giving up already? What a pathetic bastard, stopping mid-shit.”
How could that possibly be the speech of a woman? But if she was a supreme expert who had achieved Youthful Restoration, then perhaps it made sense. Come to think of it, his grandmother also spoke in that manner. Perhaps women’s mouths grew coarser as they aged.
“Allow me to greet you properly. I am Paeng Daesan of the Paeng Clan.”
“I’m A-cheong.”
Before he knew it, the honorifics had reversed. A-cheong smiled in satisfaction.
This bastard’s scared. As expected, in Murim, the strong make the rules.
Paeng Daesan’s misunderstanding did not last even half an hour. A-cheong was someone whose every word dripped with ignorance. It was less a matter of ignorance and more a fundamental lack of common sense. To someone unaware of the circumstances, it made no difference either way.
In reality, she had no idea why, what, or how Paeng Daesan had misunderstood. So the misunderstanding was easily resolved.
Afterward, Paeng Daesan faced a new crisis.
So this crazy woman is stronger than me?
“Pardon the rudeness, but how old are you, young lady?”
“Me? I’m…”
A-cheong hesitated. Saying she was in her mid-thirties felt awkward. Besides, no one would believe her anyway. There would have to be someone willing to at least pretend to believe. But treating someone who was still practically a child as an elder also felt strange. A child. From her original body’s perspective, a young man in his early twenties was still a kid who had not even gone to the military yet. This was an all-too-common and natural sentiment for modern Koreans.
Besides, he might be a bit well-off, but he was weaker than her anyway.
“You tell me first, Young Master Paeng.”
“I am twenty-two this year.”
“I’m twenty-five.”
“……Really? Are you sure?”
Paeng Daesan’s gaze, filled with disbelief, flew toward her.
“It’s because I have a youthful face.”
“Truly?”
“Mm.”
Lies, if told often enough, accumulated bad karma. Insisting her age was mid-thirties was, in a way, the truth. So she could brazenly push forward. No one believed her anyway.
But if she were to give the age of this body? That was not something worth accumulating bad karma over. A-cheong answered honestly.
“……Actually, I don’t know either. I think I’m around seventeen, but I’m not sure if I’m just precocious or if I’m actually around twenty-five with a youthful face.”
“How can you not know your own age—”
Paeng Daesan asked without thinking, then suddenly waved his hand as a thought occurred to him.
A-cheong meant “blue clothes.” It was also the nickname of the legendary female expert from the Spring and Autumn period, the Maiden of Yue. The Maiden of Yue was said to have worn only blue clothes. According to historical records, she suddenly appeared when the state of Yue was in crisis and taught them the Wolnyeo Sword Art. However, the sword art was so profound and difficult that no one could master it properly. They could only create sword forms by imitating the visible movements. Even that alone was a terrifying divine technique.
Armed with this divine technique, the state of Yue attacked and destroyed the state of Wu. In the end, the figure named A-cheong from the story was an idol to female martial artists of the jianghu. She was also an idol to women who dreamed of the jianghu.
A woman who had taken such an obvious name for herself. And on top of that, she claimed not to even know her own age. Paeng Daesan began to misunderstand again in his own way.
Could she be a wandering orphan?
However, this misunderstanding was not so easily resolved. He could not very well ask if she had no parents. Perhaps Asura’s question had been genuinely serious. A woman who had grown up alone might have found it difficult to answer questions about her ancestry. A surname was not merely the first character of one’s name—it was the pride of one’s roots and bloodline. She seemed to have grown up without knowing such things at all. And that uneducated, vulgar way of speaking! That idiotic ignorance!
“No. I misspoke. My apologies.”
“What? Why do I suddenly feel annoyed……?”
A-cheong tilted her head. She felt strangely irritated. What was this? Was the status window acting up again?
“Whatever. We seem to be around the same age, so let’s just be friends.”
“Around the same age……”
Paeng Daesan was hearing the word “same age” from a peer for the first time. The state of his vocabulary? Somewhat questionable?
Be that as it may, A-cheong had her own calculations. He was clearly the son of a wealthy family. If she made him a friend, she could probably get free meals. If she made him a younger brother, it would not look good to leech off him, but she also could not call a child “big brother.”
“Got it? Then we’re friends now? You get it, San?”
Paeng Daesan was flustered. Men and women were different—how could she so casually call him “San”?
“Uh, young lady? No matter how much of a friend you are, calling me San is……”
“I’m San! So you’re Cheong! That’s how it works. San?”
“Even so, for a man and woman to be so informal……”
“Hey, what man and woman? We’re friends.”
“Isn’t it usually the opposite?”
A-cheong gave a confident reply.
“Right. Even if there are no friends between men and women, wouldn’t overcoming that be true friendship?”
“Hmm?”
It almost made sense.
“Got it? San? San? San? San?”
She was an extremely persistent and noisy woman. It was obvious she would keep going until he gave in. Paeng Daesan reluctantly accepted.
“……Cheong.”
“Your voice is too quiet! Again! San?”
“…Cheong.”
“I can’t hear you? San?”
“Cheong.”
“San?”
“Cheong! Cheong! I understand, so stop pestering me! Please!”
Paeng Daesan shouted in exasperation. A-cheong grinned in satisfaction.