Thirin Chases the Trend. "Starting Today, I'm an Ultra-Rare Class Magical Healer and Medical Doctor." (2)
Thirin. A female martial artist who had just stepped into the realm of first-class. In short, a female master. What exactly was first-class? It was an expression of respect. A realm that ordinary martial artists could only reach after devoting their entire lives to it. Contrary to common misconceptions, not just anyone could become a martial artist of the jianghu. Even though ancient China had been a barbaric and uncivilized land, the people living in that era were not without fear of death. Whether they were too stupid to understand or overcame it with sheer courage, the lunatics who lived under the constant threat of death were the ones who walked the jianghu. And among those countless lunatics, the small elite who were filtered out and survived were precisely the first-class experts.
Even from a realistic perspective rather than an abstract one, first-class was not a realm just anyone could achieve. This could be seen from the positions first-class experts held within their sects—they were usually put in charge of branch divisions. To put it in modern terms, they were equivalent to branch managers of large corporations. And in primitive ancient barbaric China, establishing branches was hundreds of times more difficult than it was in modern times. Therefore, even prestigious sects only had a handful of branches at most—countable on one hand, or at most two. And the person responsible for such a branch was none other than a first-class expert.
(The Beggar Sect's branches were an exception. Their beggar dens were established without any capital, haphazardly, and could even spontaneously generate out of thin air like fruit flies.)
It was a realm that ordinary people could only barely reach if they possessed skill, luck, and perhaps even a fortuitous encounter all at once. That was why people of the jianghu added the title of "master" to those who reached that realm, carrying both respect and admiration.
But Thirin was a modern person, and her broad yet shallow knowledge of wuxia mostly came from skimming through trashy novels like Return of the Heavenly Demon on her smartphone before bed. To someone like Thirin, what was first-class? It was nothing more than a combat power measuring device for hierarchy adjustment—people whose limbs would be torn apart if the protagonist Heavenly Demon snorted "Hmph," and whose heads would collectively explode at a single "How insolent."
First-class experts were supposed to hype up the Heavenly Demon and then die accordingly. In fact, Thirin found the term "Heavenly Demon" itself quite ridiculous. In modern wuxia novels, the Heavenly Demon was a monstrous product born from riding the massive wave of realm inflation. Click—super peak without even knowing what they did. Click again—another realm. Then some nonsense about this and that, and in the end they had to go back to their hometown to become hunters, chefs, doctors, idols, or livestreamers, but anyway, it was a realm they slapped on when they wanted to get power without any effort. A ridiculously convenient name.
But originally, Heavenly Demon was not a light title to be thrown around casually. Even the demonic factions who worshipped the Sun and Moon Divine Cult—abbreviated as the Ming Cult—did not call themselves the Demonic Cult. That was merely a derogatory term arbitrarily given by the righteous factions. Yet even they, when referring to the one standing at their pinnacle, spoke with pure fear rather than reverence. The one who defies the heavens. The Defying Heaven Demon King. The title permitted only to the one who became the strongest under heaven and throughout all ages through the tyrannical martial arts that overturned the very foundations of orthodox techniques. A name that suited only the Chu Hegemon Demon King Xiang Yu, who was said to possess the strength to uproot mountains and qi to cover the world, capable of facing ten thousand enemies alone. That was what a Heavenly Demon was.
Anyway, a Heavenly Demon was a Heavenly Demon, and Thirin was Thirin. What mattered was that Thirin had become first-class. Although in the Heavenly Demon clickbait genre she would only serve as a combat power measuring device whose waist would be bisected by a single death beam from the Heavenly Demon, in reality, the title of "first-class" was an expression filled with respect and awe.
That was why Thirin had been secretly looking forward to her first-class debut stage. She had imagined something incredibly cool—like slamming into the ground with a superhero landing while unleashing Samadhi True Fire, then rising from the flames and declaring, "The Witch of Flames has arrived."
But Thirin's first-class debut began with her tumbling and rolling across the ground in a pathetic mess.
Thirin was seriously pissed off. All of this was because of the pathetic bandit bastards in front of her. Thirin ground her teeth.
"These fucking useless pieces of shit..."
They should have been quietly shaking down people in crowded places. Instead, they suddenly popped out in the middle of nowhere on an empty rural road in the eastern outskirts. Because she had to rush over, they had ruined her noble and sacred debut stage.
"You ruined my virgin run like this?"
Thirin's first debut, first appearance, virgin battle, maiden moment, the unicorn's sacred first experience, the Virgin Battle staking her Virginity. Thirin's virginity. All of it had been irreversibly ruined.
Just thinking about it made something start boiling up from deep within her, somewhere below her dantian.
"......"
But Thirin tried hard to suppress her anger. If there was one thing she had learned from that crazy blonde priestess, it was that the control of internal energy was greatly influenced by emotions. To use her power properly, she first needed to stay calm.
Thirin took a deep breath and looked around with composed eyes. Situation assessment. There were eight bandits in total. One had his jaw dislocated from laughing at her pathetic entrance earlier, so seven remained. Thirin quickly scanned the situation. Her gaze stopped at the carriage. Next to it, a man who had been stabbed and was bleeding lay collapsed. Beside him, a woman with her clothes disheveled was trembling in terror. They seemed to be a married couple.
"......"
Seeing that, Thirin started getting pissed off again. Thirin was a fair and equal human being. Like the Great Master Bodhidharma who wanted to share "good things," Thirin also had a tendency to want to share. The only minor difference was that what she wanted to share was "shitty things." The Reverse Bodhidharma. That was Thirin.
She wanted to make these worms as angry as she was.
How can I piss these trash off most efficiently?
What should today's provocation repertoire be? How should she start the engine of the mouth of hell?
But Thirin soon shook her head. Her venomous tongue usually varied depending on the opponent's level. When the opponent had the intellectual capacity to understand her sophistry—like Klaus, that reactive sandbag with good responses—she employed high-level psychological warfare, combining all sorts of pedantic and bizarre words to contaminate the opponent's mind itself.
But what about these worms in front of her? If she said something like "Honorary Director of the Sustainable Stalking Committee" to them, it was obvious they'd just respond with "What the hell is that, you otaku bitch?" Thirin was an expert in so-called "customized character assassination," tailoring colorful insults to match the opponent's intellectual level. For trash like this, she had to deliver primitive and instinctive insults that suited them.
"You fucking bastards who never learned basic public decency."
"...What did you say?"
Thirin narrowed her eyes and slowly stepped forward.
"I'm saying it after seeing you guys pulling your pants down anywhere you please. At your age, you should at least know where you're supposed to take a piss, shouldn't you?"
"What crazy bitch..."
"This is a public road. A public place. If you want to urinate outdoors, go do it in the bushes over there."
Thirin smiled brightly and continued.
"Didn't your mother teach you that? Well, I guess since you don't have a mom, you can't even keep your pants on properly at your age. Still, at least try to act your age."
"......"
The endless stream of insults, combined with the mention of their mothers, made the already chilly atmosphere among the bandits grow even colder.
"......Some woman rolling around on the ground like a clown made me think I should toss her a coin, but it turns out she's got a rag in her mouth."
One of the bandits said to Thirin.
"Just mind your own business and keep walking, girl. We're a bit busy today."
As they spoke, they surrounded Thirin. Thirin let out a snort of laughter. Telling her to keep walking while forming an encirclement—what a sight. Well, at least it saved her the trouble of running her mouth more, so that was nice.
Thirin slowly shifted her steps sideways while gesturing behind her with one hand. I'll draw their attention, so head toward the carriage. While making that gesture, she said,
"Interesting, how interesting. If you had any real skill, you wouldn't be causing this much trouble just to rob one carriage in a backwater like this."
"This crazy bitch and her mouth..."
Thirin ignored him and continued.
"I heard criminals have their own networks—contacts and such—to know each other. Something about territory management? I heard they do that sort of thing."
"......"
"Yet here you are, committing robbery in a backwater where even road management doesn't exist."
Thirin chuckled.
"You guys are seriously third-class, huh?"
"You fucking bitch...!"
At those words, the bandit group charged at Thirin. Thirin smiled.
Thirin. The realm of first-class. Although she had ruined her first debut by rolling around on the ground, she planned to conduct her first battle with elegance and grace.
Thirin's goal for today was to use her internal energy, with the minimum amount of movement, without letting her hands touch the bastards' filthy bodies, and take them down.
She immediately kicked a pebble at her feet, infusing it with internal energy according to the principles of hardness.
So far, just as planned.
Thirin intended to recreate what Klaus had called the "Mind's Eye imprint" in her own way.
What did he say again? Before they charge in, roughly sketch out a scenario of how things will go?
And according to Thirin's scenario, the kicked pebble would trip the guy running in front, and the one charging beside him would stumble over him and fall. Then Thirin would gracefully step on the fallen ones, leap up, and trample on their heads, shoulders, and so on as elegantly as plum blossoms scattering in the moonlight. It would truly be an elegant battle befitting a noble first-class female master.
-Whoosh!
The pebble shot toward the ankle of the charging man.
-Crunch!
"Aaaaaaaaagh!"
The pebble not only tripped him but shattered his ankle, and as if that wasn't enough, it crushed the next guy's testicles.
"Kyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!"
"......"
Thirin's martial arts. It was not elegant orthodox martial arts, but tyrannical martial arts.
"Why can't I ever be happy!!!!!"
Thirin screamed as she charged forward.