Regret, Ruin, Awakening (5)
In the instant Namgung Soso obliterated the assassin who'd snuck up on her with full murderous intent, Sima Mancheon rubbed his eyes and crawled out of bed.
"Urgh... gotta pee... bathroom..."
If this were a fantasy world, he could've just summoned an undine to handle it and dry off with a spell. No need to bother dragging himself to the toilet. What a tragedy.
And while he'd gotten used to it by now, coming from a world with bidets, the old-style toilets were still a pain in the ass.
...Well, thanks to the complete absorption of Song Dynasty culture into this brand-new nation, the tech level had carried over surprisingly well. Convenience facilities were unexpectedly advanced. Not quite on the level of those magic crystal-powered mage toilets from fantasy novels with their overwhelming performance, but being able to cleanly dispose of waste was still a blessing.
With such thoughts swirling in his half-asleep haze, he stumbled out to the outhouse in the inn's backyard, relieved himself, and was just heading back when he suddenly sensed a presence behind him.
Logically speaking, the person hadn't just popped out of the ground. They'd probably been tailing him, hiding their presence ever since he left the inn room.
"You're the Murim guy who played Je-seok-cheon in that lightness skill chase scene from the play, right?"
A soft yet oddly childish voice from a beautiful woman drifted from behind him.
At this point, with his back exposed, it didn't matter if it was a woman or a man—but still, it was way better than some burly uncle breathing raggedly down his neck.
And since she wasn't killing him outright and was trying this random chit-chat instead, she probably wasn't one of the assassins from the previous fight.
...Alright, then. He'd play along with the conversation, create an opening.
"No idea what this is about, but I think you've got the wrong guy, miss."
"The way you're playing innocent... yep, it's you."
Looks like the first question was just for politeness; she'd already decided the answer in her head. Why even ask, then?
...But that realization hit him. She had no intention of harming him right now.
Whatever her exact goal, she'd locked onto him as the target but chose to talk first instead of ambushing. With his back to her, no immediate threat. That contradiction created the gap he needed.
Gathering inner energy into his staff and left foot, he burst into a cheeky laugh to distract her gaze.
"Haha! Busted, huh? But I never dreamed a real fairy would come out to greet me after playing Je-seok-cheon!"
"...What?"
At his sly, offbeat fairy remark, the one at his back let out a baffled mutter. Mancheon didn't miss the chance.
He kicked off the ground, instantly widening the distance, then pivoted his body 180 degrees using the staff tip as a fulcrum, finally facing the coward who'd been lurking behind him.
"...Huh?"
This time, it was Mancheon blurting out the baffled sound.
Cute bobbed hair down to her neck, beautiful golden hair like melted gold, matching golden eyes, a face that was strangely mature yet childish.
The identity of the one who'd snuck up on him in the dead of night was a tiny little girl.
Stunned that his opponent was a child, Mancheon unwittingly dropped his guard and tossed out a light joke.
"Uh... little fairy, you're too young to tempt me into ascending to heaven, so... got any unmarried big-sis fairies or auntie fairies around?"
The words had barely left his mouth when a sharp wind grazed his cheek.
It was the air pressure from her movement. Before he could react, she'd closed the gap, burrowing into his guard. Her tiny, childlike fist slammed into his solar plexus.
"Guh— hack?!"
Caught off guard by the blow, Mancheon sprawled flat on the ground, gasping in pain. The little fairy—no, the master disguised as a child—approached slowly, planting her small foot on his chest and grinding it in.
With the moon at her back, she frowned down at him with an arrogant gaze.
"Kid, didn't your master teach you to beware of the elderly and children in the Murim world?"
Hiiing... never learned that one... my masters are too busy coughing up tuition fees right now!!
A grown man pinned motionless under a child's foot—an absurd sight. A silent scream echoed from the depths of his heart.
Quanzhen Teachings. If you asked today's Central Plains Murim folk who the absolute pinnacle of martial arts, the Tai Shan Bei Dou, truly was, nine out of ten would say Shaolin or Wudang.
But in the past, the Bei Dou seat belonged not to Wudang, but to Quanzhen.
After all, the Huashan Sect—one of the famed Nine Great Sects and One Gang—was founded by He Da-tong, one of the Seven Quanzhen Disciples personally taught by Wang Chongyang. And the neighboring Zhongnan Sect in Shaanxi had absorbed the homeless Quanzhen warriors after their downfall, skyrocketing to prominence.
Excluding the historically ancient Qingcheng Sect from the Three Kingdoms era and Kunlun, which was too far removed from the Central Plains, it wasn't an exaggeration to say every Daoist sect among the Nine Greats had been influenced by Quanzhen to some degree.
That's why their inner cultivation method was called the Quanzhen Orthodox Inner Cultivation Method—the orthodox pinnacle of Daoist arts.
In other words, the old Murim wasn't dominated by the Nine Greats and One Gang like today; it was a tripartite system of Shaolin, Quanzhen, and the Beggars' Sect.
...One oddball in the mix, but Quanzhen's prestige in the Murim world had been immense regardless.
Of course, that prestige became poison in the end. The surviving disciples sparked a pathetic money feud unbecoming of a Daoist sect, turning into the world's laughingstock and collapsing.
But it had once been a mighty power—that much was true.
And now, the self-proclaimed heir to that fallen Quanzhen, Wang Miyang, stood with arms crossed, gazing coldly down at the kneeling Mancheon.
"The lightness skill you showed in the play was unmistakably Quanzhen's Golden Goose Skill. No use denying it. Tell me—who taught you Quanzhen martial arts?"
...Fuck.
He'd figured a long-dead sect meant no copyright issues, so he'd used them freely. And now an heir shows up.
But in times like this, panic was the enemy. Stay calm. Count primes.
Primes: lonely numbers divisible only by one and themselves. They'd give him courage.
Even if poison frogs rained from the sky, counting primes would get him through.
But actually counting them here might just earn him a knuckle-rapping for stalling, so Mancheon quickly spun a tale mixing truth and lies about how he'd learned the arts.
"...So, a passing master was moved by your sense of justice, taught you the arts, but left without revealing his name out of shame for being Quanzhen?"
"Yes. He saw me channeling Jang Bi of the Jangpan Sect, holding off dozens of dogs to protect my friend, and was so touched he took me as a disciple."
Having heard the full story, Wang Miyang narrowed her eyes and extended her doll-like white hand.
"I'm going to check your meridians. Give me your hand."
Refusing here would be as good as admitting the lie, so he obediently offered his hand.
A moment later, she withdrew her fingers from his pulse, her face a bit awkward.
"Hm... there's some other stuff mixed in, but you learned it properly. Not some half-assed peeking. It's genuine Quanzhen arts."
Of course—taught by someone who could flawlessly execute nearly every martial art. No quality certificate, but performance-wise, the real deal.
Convinced he'd truly been taught by a Quanzhen warrior, Wang Miyang's voice softened a touch, her wariness easing.
"Uh... sorry for the misunderstanding."
Lucky for him his "Murim public enemy disciple" status stayed hidden, but clearing suspicion this easily? Despite her sharp eyes and top-tier skills, she seemed naively innocent about worldly ways.
Now that he thought about it, her clothes even had a rustic village-girl vibe.
...Quanzhen Teachings, huh?
A hybrid inner method blending Daoist and Buddhist principles, gathering pure qi without bias toward extreme yin or yang, allowing one to learn and wield virtually any martial art in the world.
The Quanzhen Orthodox Inner Cultivation Method.
The Empty Brightness Fist, embodying "clarity through emptiness"—dissipating an opponent's mighty force in an instant, creating gaps to topple them instead.
And the reliable, ever-steady Golden Goose Skill lightness art that always punched above its weight in a pinch.
He hadn't thought much of it before, but piecing it together now... Quanzhen arts were exceptionally outstanding.
Mancheon eyed Wang Miyang, who was gazing up at him from her slightly huddled stance, and tapped away at his mental calculator.
They were sticking around this village a few more days anyway, and here was a bona fide ex-Quanzhen official right in front of him.
Might as well go for it—level up to genius Daoist priest Sima Mancheon, the heaven-deceiving swindler. Sounded like a solid choice.