Chapter 689: A Martial Artist Must Strengthen Himself — A Martial Artist Must Be Strong (8)

There had never existed a person in this world who lifted Qing up and spun her around.

For one thing, even if you say you’re glad to see her, Qing is not the sort to fling herself into a man’s arms (old men and pedestals excepted), and besides, among the women of the Central Plains, grabbing someone in a hug and spinning as a greeting is, in social sentiment, regarded as exceedingly frivolous.

What’s more, Qing is a grown lady, and physically a big lady.

However, Peng Choryeo was an even bigger lady, physically bigger, and the sort of person who didn’t particularly care about face or any such thing.

So—shall we say it was rather fresh.

Shall we say it was fun.

No sooner had they finished that forceful rite of reunion than Peng Choryeo smacked Qing’s shoulder with a sharp pat.

“Now really, girl. How is it you never once came to visit. You said you’d come visit so confidently, and it turns out it was all empty words?”

“It just so happened my schedule got tangled. I even went as far as the Kunlun Sect.”

“Right. I heard. This rascal up and left home and there was near half a year with no word—well, they said he was following our Qing around, so I let it slide; otherwise I’d have just snapped his shins clean through.”

“You heard what Choryeo said? You ought to thank me.”

At that, Peng Daesan snorted.

“I figured you didn’t see me since you didn’t even say hello.”

“It hasn’t been that long since we met, has it? When did we part in Chang’an? It was spring then and it’s spring now. Keep this up and we’ll grow attached, really.”

“Every time you open your mouth the affection drains out, so you don’t have to worry abou—GRAAGH.”

SMAAACK! It was the sound of Peng Choryeo’s enormous palm walloping Peng Daesan’s back.

Given the age gap and the way she raised him piggyback, they’d said they were closer to a mother and child than to siblings.

“Ou. That’s gotta hurt.”

Qing tried laying down a palm herself, but shall we say the power of the original mother’s palm was in a class of its own.

Or perhaps it simply looked painful because Peng Choryeo possessed the musculature of a muscle-woman, beast-woman, governor-grade strongwoman.

“Enjoy your meal! Ah—Lady Choryeo!”

Right on cue for lunch, Jegal Hyang went DODODODO and threw herself bodily at Peng Choryeo.

Did those two know each other?

In truth, to everyone of the same generation or younger in the Jegal family, regardless of gender, Peng Choryeo had been the first love. The Jegal clan’s eye for beauty was extraordinary.

Having come hand in hand like best friends only to “lose” that friend, Jayeo alone came to Qing a little downcast.

“Jayeo, did you wash your hands?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Let’s see. You didn’t wash properly. What’s this, were you digging in the dirt for fun? You hid dirt under your nails to brag about it, didn’t you? To brag?”

“No......”

Jayeo shrank again.

But Qing hadn’t been scolding in the first place.

“So what. Washing is a matter of sincerity and feeling. The fact you washed is what matters. It’s not like you’re eating with your hands.”

Qing, who taught very good things to children.

“So then, did anything come out when you dug? This time of year you can find things that are fairly edible, right? I too once roamed around all day digging up the earth.”

At that, Jayeo’s face seemed to brighten a little, only for a shadow to fall dark once more in an instant.

Not a metaphor but a literal shadow.

The appearance of a giant that blocked the light source. Peng Choryeo’s eyes, as she looked at Jayeo, sparkled in a way that didn’t match her size.

“Oh, so this is Jayeo? Let’s see—goodness, am I truly seeing my granddaughter? Did you come to grandma?”

“Grandma?”

Huh. It was an expansion of the family tree Qing herself hadn’t foreseen. How did Choryeo become a grandma? Since San is an uncle, then the uncle’s mother is, hmm, a grandma, is that right? Or not?

In any case, Peng Choryeo already had Jegal Hyang tucked under one arm, but that posed no obstacle at all.

With a child set on each of her palms to left and right, Peng Choryeo’s face shone with utterly guileless brightness.

Mm. If Choryeo likes it that much, it can’t be helped.

To the point she monopolized the two little ones and sat one apiece on those massive thighs.

“Ah, Qing, you’re an instructor? Right. Of course. You’ve got to match the grade. Being a squad leader in the middle of that would have been a bit... I heard the story. Congratulations.”

“Mm.”

Why does she keep having “heard the story”?

Well, to begin with we did notify the Martial Alliance, and as for Chunbong, Runner or whatever, anyway he’s on the operations side in a fairly high post, so fine.

When Qing looked at Peng Daesan, he furtively averted his gaze.

Mm. Still, if it’s Choryeo, she seems like the sort who’d go around telling people wherever she goes. Is that all right? The Martial Alliance’s level of security?

Tell family, then tell a best friend, “hey, keep this just between us,” and before long the whole Central Plains will be spreading the rumor that the Heavenly Flower Sword is in Harmony.

Of course, it doesn’t matter either way.

I say I’m in Harmony—what are they going to do about it.

****

The Righteous-Proper Martial Academy First-Round Entrance Examination.

Its third event division was, the blade!

In truth, the most popular weapon in the martial world, no matter what anyone says, is the sword.

From its origin the sword has been a symbol of authority and power, and it has also been used as a tool with religious meaning.

Thus the martial world—and beyond the martial world, the whole world—revered the sword and held it precious.

But if you set the sword aside?

Then it’s the spear...—or not.

The spear is the army’s best friend but has a somewhat awkward relationship with martial folk.

Until the Heavenly Martial Emperor, the martial world kept an eye on the government’s mood; using the army’s ultimate weapons—the spear, the crescent-moon saber, the fire-lance and the like—was in any case difficult.

So the weapon most loved after the sword is the blade.

If you just chop down with all your might, that’s enough—what an easy, convenient weapon it is.

In fact, in the Central Plains there were more blunt-tipped blades than pointed ones, precisely so one could hang a weight at the tip and chop down like an axe; with no thrusting at all it was truly a simple-and-brutal weapon with only the one thing—cutting.

It is this easy to handle, and once you’ve smashed down on a skull or a shoulder or a belly, it possesses a peerless power that sends the target straight off to the King of the Underworld.

What’s more, it’s even cheap!

Smiths who can make a properly balanced sword are rare, but by the very nature of the blade—which is fashioned by taking a roughly heavy lump of iron, grinding an edge on one side, and fitting a handle—it is also easy to produce.

And so there was no helping the fact that, for the last turn of the first-round exam, the number of applicants in the blade division was the greatest.

If you’re already training in a proper sword art, your reason to apply to the Righteous-Proper Martial Academy... of course exists (connections, advancement, entering the mainstream), but it is not as desperate as for blade men.

It ought to be... desperate?

CLAAANG! With a sound like metal shattering, the applicant swayed while his practice blade, humming like a tuning fork with a WIIIING WIIIING, was helplessly batted aside.

“Hah-hah! How can you be so lacking in spirit! What did you fill those muscles with—water? Think of me as the enemy and come at me!”

Peng Choryeo roared with hearty laughter.

But no matter if she shouted like that.

The applicant could only feel wronged.

Peng Choryeo’s weapon was a huge, heavy great-blade; counting the handle, frankly it was a great-weapon similar in size to Zhang Mingyi’s.

Such great-weapons had once been privileges granted to families friendly with the authorities.

The Peng family’s great-blade, the Zhao family’s crescent-moon saber, the Yang family’s long spear, the Moyong family’s cavalry arts—those martial great houses of former military origin freely handled strategic weapons the common martial folk had been too self-conscious to use.

So, look from the applicant’s point of view.

Lady Peng Choryeo of the famed travelling carriage is swinging a massive lump of iron such that a mere graze guarantees serious injury; naturally one can only shrink back, can one not.

What’s more—

“Kyaaaaaa! My lady! Sis! You’re so cool!”

There were already the fervent cheers of the women who made up more than half the audience.

Even setting aside her status as Peng Daesan’s sister, Peng Choryeo was a very popular heroine as a female martial artist.

Thus the applicants, before a great ordeal in which if struck they died physically and if they struck they died socially, could only flounder and fail to show their true ability.

“Hey, little brother. Don’t you see the instructors up there? This isn’t a leisurely moment. Are the dreams of a grown man only that small? You’ve got to show everything you’ve got with all your strength.”

“Y-yes, ma’am!”

By their nature blade men are burly fellows with some muscle, but before Peng Choryeo they took on the respectful look of having met a real big sister.

“Think it fine even if your practice blade breaks—right, if it breaks we’ll give you bonus points! Examiners, would that be all right!?”

From the examiners’ seats came light assent.

Only the Secretariat staffer from the Alliance present turned deathly pale and shook his head desperately, but in any case—

In the end the applicant’s practice blade snapped with a CRRRACK in half and flew high into the air, and as he exited with a face of “I did it,” fist clenched—

At last, he appeared.

KYAAAAAA!!! A terrible shriek as if it were rending the sky filled the whole surroundings; it was to the point where an illusion flickered as though countless vertical lines pressed down on the world and shook it violently.

It was the fervent support of the women who had rushed as far as Henan Province to see the Jade Qilin.

“Fervent fire” means an exceedingly hot blaze; with the present firepower it was surely a force that could even beat magma.

Only, without even the reward of having come this far, that Jade Qilin pressed down his bamboo hat and let a veil cast over his radiant face...

At that, all manner of outcries burst forth.

Young Master Peng, this maiden came from Guizhou to receive those jade pupils, please, forgive this small lapse and show your face just once.

I’m from Qinghai! I’m from Heilongjiang!

As if the emcee at a banquet were saying they’d give a gift to the person who came from the farthest away.

Besides, it was like every last barbarian from the remote corners of the Central Plains under heaven had gathered.

Peng Daesan, however, cleanly ignored them.

Ahhh, eiii, kyaaa, please-please—every sort of begging cry and lament, all jumbled together into noises hardly intelligible—yet suddenly those sounds gently subsided.

It was because the youth who fearlessly stepped onto the exam floor to face the Jade Qilin also possessed looks that were anything but ordinary.

“Mandarlo from Jianyang.”

An impression that declared “this is what nobility is”—a handsome face; the candidate was the very image of a young lord.

Chicken instead of pheasant: since a tremendous handsome man had appeared to their eyes, the women, swallowing their drool as they gazed upon him in place of the hidden jade face of the Jade Qilin—

“Hoh. From Jianyang, is it. My, my.”

Wouldn’t Sima Chunbong, at Qing’s side, show interest.

“Oh? Sima-rang. Interested?”

“My, Heavenly Flower Sword, heh—do you not know? Jianyang is a city located south of Chengdu. Now you see, yes?”

Qing returned it with that look.

Sima-rang’s expression bloomed even more.

“My, my. Heavenly Flower Sword? Do you not know? Did he not say he is from Jianyang.”

“I don’t know Jianyang, but beef-offal soup is tasty. Ah, are we not getting ox-offal soup today? I suddenly crave it.”

“My-my-my, Heavenly Flower Sword, is ignorance such a shameful thing that you divert the talk like a child. Heh, how cute of you.”

What is this? Does one “my” get added each time?

On the off chance, Qing looked—and regrettably—

“Heavenly Flower Sword, wherever they go, Sichuan folk call themselves Sichuan folk; they never put their district name in front. Therefore, one may say this fellow is suspicious from the outset. Moreover, with that face he wouldn’t be lacking for a bit of a name, and yet there is nothing in particular on record. Isn’t that truly suspicious?”

“Oooh. Just now you really sounded like a staff officer.”

Qing admired him in all innocence.

At that, Sima Chunbong’s nose bridge pointed up to the sky.

Then suddenly—if just now he sounded like a staff officer, does that mean he usually doesn’t?

Of course, to Qing he didn’t.

In any case—Mandarlo? He already wasn’t a fellow with low bad-karma, and Qing was thinking she ought to write once again that something seemed suspicious.

Right on time—excellent, there’s something to write.

[Suspicious for introducing himself not as a Sichuan man despite being from Sichuan—]

“Heavenly Flower Sword? Even if this Sima-rang’s high opinion is a clear truth like a lamp in the dark and a guide in the fog, how can you so brazenly copy—”

[—so says Sima-rang; I strongly agree.]

“—Ahem. Yes. That is as it should be.”

Does this guy spend the whole day peeking at my evaluation sheet?

In truth, as for the two chattering, by now the examiners all took it as just how things are.

Even if they chatter and squeal and spout nonsense, both are diligent about their evaluation sheets; and the staff officers in the Staff Office look on with satisfaction thinking, oh look at that, he finally has something like a friend.

Just then—

Suddenly, Peng Daesan pushed his bamboo hat back.

An unexpected face reveal whose intent could not be guessed.

Once that thoroughly displeased expression swept across the hall, the women, all over again, came to their senses and reflected.

Ah. Young Lord Wan—no, what young lord—how could I have thought that was handsome after seeing that; my eyes must be not just bad but truly ruined.

Fainting fits of mind-and-body weakness broke out one after another.

For a woman seeing that ruinously harmful face for the first time, the shock was unprecedented; for a woman seeing it again, she realized that the Jade Qilin she’d imagined in her daydreams was a degraded copy that didn’t reproduce even a tenth of the real thing.

Of course, the greatest cause of all was the primitive limits of the ancient Central Plains’ uncivilized entertainment culture and its low threshold for stimulation.

Mandarlo’s expression collapsed.

He must have had some confidence in his looks too, to have fearlessly come out before Peng Daesan; but seeing the reaction, whether he knew it meant his defeat or whether his pride was hurt—only he knew his intent.

And what followed, well—there is no need to describe the process—was the spar between applicant and examiner.

Having lost with his face, Mandarlo also lost with his skill.

After all, by Qing’s standards, Peng Daesan is not a low-grade martial artist.

He stands at the tail end of a true martial artist whom a martial artist’s imitation body—or martial artist hopeful—from third-rate up to pinnacle cannot dare face.

With Peng Daesan’s victory, a shrill cheer rang out again, as if it would tear the world asunder—and tear the crowd’s eardrums as well.

Only, at this rate, who would come out next to take an exam against Peng Daesan, one wondered—

“Me! Nabybi of Yichang!”

“I came out first! Lee Minrin of Makseong—Young Lord Jade—no, Young Lord Peng, please give me your instruction—”

“Hey! Where do you think you’re cutting the line!”

“Everyone, what is this disgrace in an exam hall! Do you not think you have gone too far! Feel some shame! Hoo. This girl is Do Dal, disciple of the Clear-Question Sect. Do not crowd on account of a woman’s body; please—”

“YAAAA!!”

Oh—they’re fighting, fighting.

An out-of-season hair-pulling brawl; the mood suddenly an octagonal arena.

At any rate, as this tumultuous blade-division testing schedule rolled on, the schedule of the Righteous-Proper Martial Academy’s first-round entrance exam likewise gradually raced toward its end.