The Sweet Trap of Illusions
When Cheong suddenly came to her senses, she found herself standing in the middle of an inn. She naturally settled into a seat and shouted, “Over here! Server!”
“Yes, miss! Coming right away!” The server appeared with a cheerful cry.
“One order of kimchi stew with raw meat, for two people, and add some ham slices too. And a cola, make it cold. Not the hot kind.”
“I’m sorry, miss, but our inn operates on a kiosk system.”
“Ah. Right.”
Cheong stood up with an embarrassed expression. Damn, these days there really isn’t a single place without a kiosk. But if that’s the case, why pretend to take my order?
Grumbling to herself, Cheong finished placing her order through the kiosk and returned to her seat. That was when a dull, throbbing pain began to pulse in her lower abdomen.
Just stay quiet for a bit. I need to read the room.
Cheong pressed down hard on the signal, suppressing it, then rested her chin on the table and looked around. Having grown accustomed to life in the Central Plains, she had become especially confident in her knowledge of inn culture—enough to proudly claim she was now on the level of the uncivilized locals. Yet this particular inn was utterly unique.
The floor and walls were all a uniform gray, and even the tables and chairs were carved from stone. It felt like the interior of a rocky mountain had been hollowed out and sculpted. At the same time, it gave the impression of being inside an unfinished building with no decorations or wallpaper. Is this one of those aesthetic inns? Though I thought that trend had already passed.
Trend or not, the inn was packed with customers. It was nearly full. Well, it was the owner’s choice. As long as the rooms were nice and the food tasted good, what did it matter?
Soon the food arrived and was placed neatly on the table. The long-awaited kimchi stew and white rice. Cheong scooped up a spoonful of the stew and brought it to her mouth.
The well-fermented, aged kimchi had been boiled thoroughly, and the spicy, rich broth slid down her throat with a satisfying gulp. What is this world!
Cheong’s eyes spun wildly. She immediately launched into a full-on battle meal. She soaked the rice with the broth, mixed it thoroughly, then piled on a piece of aged kimchi, a chunk of tofu, and a slice of meat. She scooped up a heaping spoonful and shoved it into her mouth until her cheeks bulged. Then she popped open the cold cola with a crisp psshht, feeling the fizzy bubbles dance on her tongue as she gulped it down.
Sparks exploded in Cheong’s mind. Yes! This taste! This is exactly like home. I missed it so much. I’ve been through so much.
It was a flavor that brought tears to her eyes—literally. Tears were actually flowing.
“What the… why?” Cheong wiped away the tears streaming down her face. But tears were tears, and eating was eating. Even as she cried in a rather undignified manner, her hands never stopped moving as she shoveled the food down. Sniff, gulp, chew chew, nom. Sniff, sob sob, hic.
It was a complete mess of crying and eating. Yet her hand movements remained impressively efficient. She sprinkled sesame seeds and mixed them in, then systematically combined tofu, kimchi, meat, and ham with the rice, devouring it all. Originally, kimchi stew called for two bowls of rice. After scooping herself a second helping from the self-serve station, Cheong once again waged war against the food.
“Huu. That was good. Hic.”
Cheong rubbed her stomach with puffy eyes. Even after eating that much, her belly was still flat. But her mind felt refreshed. Whether it was because the food was delicious or because she had cried her heart out, she couldn’t tell. In any case, she had overcome her inner demons by simultaneously having a meal and a good long cry.
Cheong leaned crookedly against her chair. A bit of a shame, though. I wonder if there’s anything else?
That was when she noticed a stone tablet that had somehow appeared on the table. Curious, she looked at it and saw that the screen displayed the inn’s menu, neatly categorized by type.
Ah. A tablet. There are a lot of places like this these days. But had something like this always been here? And why make people order at the kiosk first?
Cheong skillfully manipulated the tablet. Soon the server returned pushing a cart and began setting down all kinds of desserts with loud thunks. The table was transformed into a festival of cakes. It started with tiramisu, followed by a rare cheesecake glistening with sugar coating, a New York cheesecake on a crisp crust, and a deeply baked, pitch-black Basque cheesecake. There was also a chocolate chiffon cake and a fondant au chocolat whose warm center oozed out through a slight crack. A simple strawberry whipped cream cake, an elegant milk cream cake without any decorations, a crepe-style layered with thin sheets and cream, and a mousse cake so rich it could almost pass for bread. Éclairs lined up neatly in a row, each topped with different colored icing. Then there were maple syrup-soaked pancakes, opera cakes, waffles, crème brûlée, custard, brownies, pies, tarts, macarons, cannelés, meringues, castella, and tightly pressed, baked croissants… And in Cheong’s hand appeared a massive 31.01 fl oz Trenta-sized iced Americano. Thus was born the unstoppable dessert slaughterer that no one in the martial world could stop.
Sweet, sweet, sweet, and more sweet. After eating her fill and crying until she felt refreshed, the excessive sugar sent her mood soaring. This was the terrifying addictive symptom known in the martial world as sugar high.
Then a sudden thought struck her. When did I start liking sweets this much?
Cheong’s hand stopped. The apple marmalade from the pie she had been about to bite into dripped down in a thick stream.
Before she had manifested in this body, she hadn’t particularly avoided sweets, but she hadn’t sought them out either. This preference for sweet things belonged to the body she now inhabited. Isn’t this kind of dangerous?
“Ugh, damn it. I was going to enjoy it a bit more.”
Cheong tossed aside what she was holding. At the same time, she released the power that had been constricting her dantian. The true qi of the Daejeong Seongong, which had been constantly poking and prodding at her lower abdomen while throwing a tantrum, flowed free. That serene, clear, and bright energy traveled up her spine toward her brain.
The eight practices of Buddhism were called the Noble Eightfold Path. And the first among them was Right View, which meant seeing the world correctly. Thus, Cheong recognized the illusion. What she had been seeing, hearing, and feeling was not reality.
Cheong smacked her lips. Well, at least I got to eat as much kimchi stew as I wanted. I should be able to last another three years. When she returned to the Sinnyeo Sect, she would have to try making some kimchi. Roughly chop some cabbage, soak it in brine, then smear it with minced green onion, garlic, onion, and chili before burying it—wouldn’t that work? If not, she could always come back here.
But what exactly was going on?
Cheong finally had the very belated question. From the beginning, she had easily noticed something was off because the true qi of the Daejeong Seongong had been running wild. She had simply suppressed it to satisfy her gluttony first. And since she had properly enjoyed herself, it had been a genuinely happy moment in a long while.
What is this? Some kind of mental illusion magic? Does that even exist in wuxia? Her master could shoot fire from his hands, fly around on a sword, and do all sorts of things. If illusion magic was included too, then what was the difference between wuxia and Harry Potter? Flying, shooting fire, showing illusions, and on top of that, having public enemies called the Demon Heads. So did that mean anything with Chinese-looking bastards counted as wuxia? It was the most blasphemous thought in the history of humanity’s greatest creation, one that would make the world’s eight billion nine hundred thirty million wuxia readers foam at the mouth in outrage.
Thinking such things, Cheong walked out of the inn with crisp footsteps. The moment she stepped outside, the scenery changed again.
She was now inside a grand hall within a palace whose ceiling rose to an imposing height. Countless thrones stood in rows, each occupied by a single figure. The familiar faces made her realize they were the elite Demon Heads of the Demonic Cult.
One Demon Head sat on a high throne, accepting fruit from a beautiful woman. Another sat on a high throne, receiving bows from officials dressed in silk. Yet another Demonic Cultist sat on a high throne…
Cheong’s face twisted into a scowl. “No, what the hell? Why does every single one of these bastards look like they’re destined to be kings? Can’t any of you be a little more original?”
That was because the dream of most capable figures in the Demonic Cult was to become a king. After unifying the Central Plains, they wanted to receive a royal title, rule over a province, and live a life of luxury.
Cheong pulled out the Boksinjeok. She planned to give them a proper wake-up call while they were still lost in their delusions. She would send them straight to the Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss where the high immortals resided.
With a menacing smile, Cheong was approaching the nearest throne when—
“Please stop.”
A youthful voice halted her. Cheong turned her head. The menacing smile remained firmly in place.
“Oh. If it isn’t Seungju? Nice to see you. I was actually missing our Seungju’s face. And I wanted to see what was inside that face of yours too.”
Ji Seungju looked back and forth between Cheong’s smile and the Boksinjeok, then slowly backed away. He quickly opened his mouth.
“If you kill me, you will be trapped in this formation forever. Are you fine with that?”
“Huh? Formation?”
“It is the Illusory Maze of No Return. It is an evil formation once used by the Blood Sect’s branch, the Blood Lineage. You must have at least heard the name.”
“Huh? Formation?” Cheong asked again.
Ji Seungju looked at Cheong with trembling eyes. His pupils shook with astonishment at how such an ignorant person could exist in this world.
“Did I really need to explain from there?”
“Yeah. So, what’s a formation?”
A formation was a type of technique that utilized the natural energy of the world. It was also a highly advanced skill that required understanding the geography of the land where dragon veins and spiritual veins flowed, as well as reading the results that appeared when those flows were twisted.
Thus, humans who stepped inside an activated formation would see illusions, hear phantom sounds, have their five senses mixed up, and become unable to recognize reality, preventing them from waking up.
“Ah. So all this chaos was because of a formation?”
“The Illusory Maze of No Return is a terrifying absolute formation that shows people the things they desire or miss most in life.”
“Why is that terrifying?” Cheong asked, genuinely puzzled. Hadn’t she just eaten everything she wanted and even cleanly cured her inner demons?
“Because it makes the person not want to leave the formation. Eating the illusion is not the same as eating in reality, and since they remain awake without sleeping, it becomes a sweet poison that steals a person’s life.”
Cheong tilted her head. It wasn’t that bad, though? As usual, she didn’t keep her thoughts to herself.
“Hmm… Is that all?”
Yem-byeong. Ah, my apologies.
Ji Seungju immediately followed up with an apology. For some reason, he simply couldn’t hold it in. He couldn’t understand how a single phrase could scrape at his insides so effectively.
“It is an absolute formation that manifests a person’s inner thoughts so strongly that they become visible to others. From what I can see, it completely melts the principles of the Hundred and Eight Gates with the Five Elements. To find the Life Gate among them, one must first locate the basic Eight Trigrams Axis’s Image and Death Gates along with the Seven Severance Gates and…”
“Hey.” Cheong cut off Ji Seungju’s rambling. It was meaningless talk she couldn’t understand anyway. This was exactly the problem with smart people. They assumed everyone else was as smart as they were. It was also why Cheong evaluated Seolgajik as the smartest person in town. At least that guy’s explanations were always easy to follow. A smart person talking about things only they understood? Cheong already held the most effective tool for such situations in her hand. The most effective means of communication with a professor: the Boksinjeok.
Raising the Boksinjeok, Cheong asked, “Want me to make it difficult for you?”
“……There are five hundred and forty paths leading out of the formation, but if you exclude five of them, all the rest are traps. Therefore, finding the correct path is practically impossible.”
Ji Seungju immediately changed his tone. His knowledge might be on a high pedestal, but the Boksinjeok was right in front of him.
“That’s more like it.” Cheong nodded. “So, what do we do now?”
“Every formation has a core pillar—in other words, a cornerstone. Ah, by cornerstone, I mean—”
“I know what a cornerstone is, you know?”
“How impressive.”
“I’m always impressive. There’s never been a time when I wasn’t.”
“……”
After a brief silence, Ji Seungju spoke again. “We will move those cornerstones to their correct positions in the proper order to dismantle the formation. So all you need to do is move the objects as I instruct you.”
To which Cheong replied, “Me? Why?”