Glory and Scandal in Nam-chang
Recently, two events—one ignoble and one glorious, had erupted simultaneously in Nam-chang. The glorious one was, of course, the Wudang Sect's Cheong-yong, the Blue Dragon, slaying the Black Bear King Wang-jak, leader of the evil factions.
The ignoble one? Naturally, the massacres of the Black Mountain Faction and the Yeon Family.
"The Black Mountain Faction bastards are dead? Hell yeah!"
"Serves the Yeon Family right. I knew it would end like this."
Of course, both factions and the family were unapologetic evil forces. Unlike the righteous sects who at least pretended to do good on the surface, they were just gangs of brutish thugs with raw power. So whether they met heavenly retribution and got wiped out or not, it was no one's business.
In fact, if there was a hero behind it, they would've been all the rage.
And they were. In the worst possible way.
"These corpses look weird."
"Argh! Which bastard did this to the Yeon Family retainers? I won't let them get away with it!"
The corpses were in an unnatural state. Even in the murim world overflowing with bizarre weapons and murder arts, bodies didn't usually shrivel into dry, withered stumps like old tree trunks with necks stretched out like nooses.
Dry, lifeless skin without a shred of qi or vitality left. There was only one thing that meant.
Suck Star Great Law! Some demonic cultivator who mastered the Suck Star Great Law had wiped out the two factions!
It was the work of a fiend at Super Peak or higher. No idea what grudge they held against the two mutually hostile groups to hit them together, but this was serious.
A Super Peak demon was prowling Nam-chang right now. How else could they eradicate two established factions root and stem?
Well, technically, the Yeon Family survived.
"Damn it! Why did the attack have to come when the family head was away?!"
The Yeon Family head had been out when disaster struck. By sheer luck—or misfortune—they survived, led by the Peak family head, barely preserving their lineage. Their power had shrunk drastically, forcing them to abandon many interests, but still.
That left Nam-chang's power players fretting over the recent incidents.
"Hmm. That child—is it really a child? The girl Ha-yeon that Cheong-yong brought along."
"Impressive, right? Toppling the Super Peak Black Bear King at such a young age."
"But something feels off."
Ha-yeon had neatly severed her grudge in a way that fit righteous morals. A straightforward, praiseworthy victory with no room for debate. The righteous elders had no intention of touching that—and couldn't if they tried.
"The problem is the process."
"What kind of demonic art was that the child used?"
Ha-yeon had exposed a lot during the fight. First, the Suck Star Great Law. Using it in front of righteous elders? She'd get stabbed on the spot, duel or no.
But.
"It absorbs power and sucks in life force, looking just like the Suck Star Great Law, but a second-rate demonic art like that couldn't produce such results."
"Exactly. If it could, it'd be called the Suck Star Divine Art, not Great Law."
The Suck Star Great Law had long been transformed in Ha-yeon's hands through countless modifications into something entirely different. This bizarre art, fused with breathing techniques honed over a thousand years in my world, had ascended to divine art status.
How could the original Suck Star Great Law even produce physical force? Calling that absurd power by its old name was the real mistake. It was clearly some incredible divine art they didn't know about.
"The murim's full of bizarre arts to begin with. No need to mention those from outside the Central Plains, like from Tianzhu."
"Hmm, then what about that qi she used... or whatever it resembled?"
And surprisingly.
They could barely recognize the qi Ha-yeon wielded as qi.
Why? What else could slice clean through a Super Peak strike if not qi?
Because... it wasn't qi.
Aura Blade—sword qi—was the hallmark of the Flower Realm. Even for Ha-yeon, manifesting true qi at her lowly power level was impossible.
But blending her past-life experience wielding it with murim's pseudo-qi from this world's breathing techniques produced something eerily close. Tailored to her imagery and tastes, though, it deviated wildly from orthodox qi frameworks.
Having seen the qi of righteous masters, they paradoxically perceived this alien system and intent as neither sword qi nor qi—something else entirely.
Just as Ha-yeon marveled at murim's martial principles as advanced tech from another world, they sensed something foreign in her "tech."
"Isn't it qi?"
"But how could a Flower Realm elder who wields qi be chased by some Super Peak nobody?"
"Maybe they suffered massive internal injuries..."
"Didn't the Divine Physician diagnose them? 'How could such a young body be shattered like this?'"
"Shedding the mortal shell..."
"You know how many Flower Realm experts the Divine Physician has personally healed, regardless of righteous, evil, or demonic? Even imperial generals who thanked him personally. No way they'd miss a shed-mortal expert."
And above all, the Divine Physician himself diagnosed it. Yep, it's a kid. Just with a really messed-up body.
So the conclusion.
"Doesn't seem like a demon, right? Cases of superiors losing to inferiors happen all the time in the murim."
"Just a kid with an unusually strong, bizarre constitution? Maybe she found some heavenly opportunity. Or came from outside."
"Exactly. She's with Wudang's Blue Dragon, her skills are proven—might as well induct her into the righteous fold. Good for sister, good for brother-in-law, right?"
Seol Ha-yeon: not guilty. Ding ding ding. Welcome to the Righteous Club. Let's get along.
.........
"Aigoo, aigoo."
Seol Ha-yeon's death rattles.
"Finally feelin' alive. Bed rest was killin' me."
My body was perfectly healed. Honestly, I was skeptical at first, but the Divine Physician grandpa wasn't exaggerating about the overwhelming recovery ability. An injury that looked like it'd take a year healed in just over a month—a miracle for sure.
"Congratulations on your full recovery, my lord!"
"Slave."
"Yes!"
"...Forget it. Do whatever."
Something to say, but nah, giving up. He'll get bored and leave eventually. Having a servant ain't bad. Think positive.
"Unni, unni! Congrats!"
"Hubby’s all better!"
"Aigoo, thanks, my pretties. And O-ryeong, not unni—what?"
"...Hubby."
"Good girl."
Body fully healed, now I'm itching for action. Gotta do something fun.
"Slave."
"Yes, my lord."
"Bored as hell, no idea what to do. Got any fun news?"
"Hmm..."
"...Never mind. Wasn't expectin' chit-chat from you anyway. You."
"Please wait, I'll find news you'll like... Hmm."
He's no gossip buddy. Gotta hunt it myself.
Speaking of, stomach's rumbling.
"Y'know, we've mooched off this house big time."
Thought as we headed out for my first proper meal in ages, away from the Pyeong estate. Borrowed elixirs, coffin, flowers—debts piling up.
"Elder Pyeong said you earned a good show, so relax."
"You buyin' that? He's just beatin' around the bush 'cause he wants cash from the kids. Owe money, gotta pay."
"You said it nicely, and Master said booze would cover it. What's hard about housing a nephew and his friend?"
"What? Why's everything so wholesome and warm here?"
This ain't the murim I know.
Hmm. Once I stockpile elixirs, stuff his warehouse and bail. Dare to burden me with favors? You're gettin' yours.
Grinning, I strolled with the kids and slave. Destination? Obvious.
My first—and nearly last—meal: On-ryang Guest Inn.
"Hmm. Let's see. On-ryang Guest Inn."
This time, I etched every character. Skimmed twice before, but overlooking the sign after that huge event bugged me.
Nice meaning too.
"Warm and kind. Heartwarming name."
Third time parting the inn's curtains. That swish against my hair and body? Now exciting.
Money? No sweat. Slave's pouch was gettin' light, but Blue Cloud True Human—er, former disciple—topped it up visiting.
Wait, not a slave anymore, and he's burnin' through it shamelessly? Ask?
"Slave."
"Yes."
"Buy me food."
"Yes."
See? He wants to.
Good enough.
Ha-yeon sat, slave sat, O-ryeong and Yuk-ryeong sat. Order up.
"Waiter!!"
"Comin'!"
"One bowl clearest broth noodles here! No toppings!"
"And noodles mashed like porridge. Right?"
"Kya. Sharp kid, remembers?"
"You left quite the... impression... sir."
"What."
Waiter froze. Voice matched the freak who ordered three bowls of death noodles—or noodle mush.
But up close? What the—
"Uh... uh?"
"What's up? Hurt? Bad timing."
"..."
"Speak. How many fingers?"
God, human or fairy?
Waiter learned today women could look like this. Otherworldly beauty impossible in nature. Poreless porcelain skin—real in the Central Plains?
Even beauties had flaws; this defied it.
"Sir? Hey, call a doc quick..."
"No, I'm fine."
"Don't look fine."
"No, really. Clear broth noodles... right?"
"Yeah. What're you lot havin'?"
Waiter finally noticed others. Two cute girls, a guy who looked like jerky next to the fairy—but objectively handsome. Her presence forced comparisons despite gender. Waste of a man, mismatched pair.
"Tangchori skewers, fragrant pork slices."
"Hmm... dumplings?"
"Order more. He's payin' anyway."
"Then... lotsa dumplings!"
"Aigoo, my wives. Stuffed ones, heaps."
And sadly, he didn't match her either. No fool to his limits despite beauty's daze. Eight years as waiter honed that instinct.
"...Tangchori skewers. Fragrant pork slices. Three clear broth no-topping noodles. Tons of stuffed dumplings. Right?"
Short love, farewell, regret, relief—waiter vanished wistfully. A martial artist might've broken through on those emotions. Pity.
Ha-yeon, oblivious, swung legs under table with a smile.
"Man, can't wait."
"Noodles that good? Sounds awful—no toppings, weak broth, mushy noodles... even noodles?"
"Nah, delicious. Ate three bowls, got the power to kill that faction lord. This inn's noodles got somethin' special."
"That good? Should've ordered one."
"Order now."
"I'd waste it—greed, no? I'm a Taoist, not a monk."
"Give to street beggars. They'd love it."
"Such insight! Cycles turn every way. Enlightened, my lord."
"You're kinda scary."
Food arrived. Ha-yeon grimaced inevitably.
"...."
"Not to your taste, my lord?"
"Why... no flavor?"
"Unni, hubby's weird. Orders bad food, complains it's bad."
"It's fine... he's always quirky. Yeah."
Daggers to the heart. Not daggers—pikes. One from wives' whispers. One from betrayal of noodle hopes.
"Expectations always screw me..."
A few bites in, nostalgia kicked: edible. Edible. Fine. Tasty enough.
"Slave."
"Yes."
"Meat."
"Here."
Snatching slave's food reaffirmed: memories stay memories for beauty.
...Ordered three bowls.
"Slave."
"Yes."
"Swap food."
"Yes. I was curious about the clear noodles that awakened your power. Good I didn't order."
Moments later, slave exited inn with three packed bowls of noodles.