Chapter 835: A Moment to Savor (10)

“Tch.”

Qing spit out every last bit of salty saliva in her mouth.

Inside her chest, something like a cold fire seemed to freeze—yet a stinging heat kept rising.

What fanned that flame was the Five Poison Sect bastards who’d stopped attacking, like they were saying, Well? How is it?

That gap in the assault, like: You got caught in the trap, so what now? Go on—run, thrash, do whatever you’re going to do.

Qing’s guess was half right and half wrong.

Yes—wanting to slowly torment the prey as their sect’s enemy ran away pathetically, that part matched what Qing expected.

But the reason for it was that the Five Poison Sect firmly believed time was on their side.

They thought poison had already seeped in enough, so all they had to do was keep pursuing and never give her time to detox.

That was the idea.

But Qing’s insides kept boiling hotter and hotter.

These nobodies—nothing left but desperation—

stepping on corpses of comrades and chanting we go on, clinging with evil, believing opportunity would come someday?

That willpower crap—as long as you have the will to do it, as long as you have unbreakable grit—you win with evil, with sheer stubbornness?

So you’re really going to come at me with a truly fatal resolve, ready to die?

Fine.

Then let’s see how much grit you’ve got.

To break a strong will, you need a shock bigger than it.

She’d been walking around calling herself “peak rank,” so they really thought she was that easy.

Not begging for their lives, not even scraping their hands and feet raw saying, I’ll live good from now on, I swear—

no, these bastards who tried to slaughter innocents were holding their heads high, talking about vengeance like they’d earned the right.

Huuuh—Qing drew a deep breath.

Alright.

Let’s do this.

Qing slid Moonlit Night back into its scabbard.

Then she stepped on the meat shield’s shoulder and yanked at his wrist.

Skin stretched long and tore, and what ended up in her hand was the disciple’s ripped-off arm.

And then she shouted, loud and proud.

“I’m not the Heavenly Flower Sword! Absolutely not! The Heavenly Flower Sword uses a sword, I use arms!”

For a moment, everything blanked out.

Qing’s lips twisted into a sneer.

Who said you get to be solemn?

If you’re going to come at me like that, then I’ll do the opposite—I’ll give you a death so ridiculous for you rotten bastards, not even funny, that you’ll hate it.

“I’m Elder Bandit Lotus! A righteous thief!”

I’m not going to fight you seriously.

I’m going to make even your deaths ridiculous—so light they get consumed as someone’s joke.

The worst kind of bastard kept talking.

“And tonight, I’m stealing the lives of you evil bandits! If you hand them over obediently, I’ll spare you your lives!”

Qing’s waist dipped slightly—

and then, without any rough stomp at all, she flowed forward elegantly.

The movement was slow and graceful, like a beautiful woman out for a stroll.

Just with a human arm in her hand.

She wasn’t aiming for anyone in particular.

Why would she, when it felt like Five Poison Sect bastards were scattered everywhere—if she ran in any direction, one of them would pop out, startled.

Sure enough, a Five Poison Sect martial uniform appeared—only the upper body sticking out above the ground behind brush.

What, did you actually dig a position?

Fear flickered across the disciple’s face when he saw Qing.

Then hatred.

Then grim resolve.

A three-step transformation she couldn’t stand.

The disciple hurriedly pulled out a tube and aimed it.

The Hidden-Weapon Canister’s muzzle drew a perfect circle in Qing’s vision.

If it had eyes, they would’ve locked gazes. This bastard aiming a canister at someone’s face.

The disciple yanked hard on the cord attached to the back of the canister—like a big firework.

Qing accelerated instead of slowing.

Then she thrust out her palm—wrapped in a faint bluish aura—and roughly covered the canister’s mouth—

BOOM! Powder smoke burst out with a blast.

And at the same time, a voice thick with laughter and contempt rang out.

“This is a bulletproof palm! Where do you think you’re shooting!?”

WHOOOM—A murderous ripping-through-air sound.

The meat shield’s arm swung like a club—its ragged upper arm whipping across the disciple’s cheek—

SMACK!

A wet, obscene impact sound, the sticky clap of damp flesh slamming into flesh.

Because she’d swung it purely with strength, no internal energy.

The disciple’s teeth began a mass jailbreak into the wide world—clattering out in a spray.

Qing ended with her arm bent hard the other way from the follow-through, smiling and smiling, face soaked red, teeth white as snow.

“It’d look weird if you only had teeth on one side, right?”

“N-no...!”

“Yes.”

Qing’s upper arm swelled slightly.

A slap is supposed to be one on the way out, one on the way back, two strikes in one breath—

WHOOSH! Another savage javelin rip through the air.

Qing twisted her body, grabbed the meat club’s wrist with both hands, and swung in a huge motion like an athlete hitting a ball.

THUNK!

The javelin collided with the meat club, and the force riding it burst and stripped the club’s flesh in an instant.

In a blink, there was nothing above the elbow but bone—flesh cleanly peeled away.

And of course, right behind that—

was another Five Poison Sect disciple, upper body sticking out of a pit.

From the exact position of the “receiver,” he got drenched in that flesh.

The disciple seemed to snap awake from the stinging scraps slapping his face, eyes flashing back into blade-blue hatred—

and he shoved a hand into his sleeve.

“Where do you think you’re going!”

Qing’s left foot shot straight back.

A bold, picture-perfect back kick.

Her sole hit the enemy’s face.

His nose broke and folded instantly, then the bones of his face collapsed with a CRASH as her foot sank about three knuckles deep into the center of his face.

And then, from the Bubbling Spring Point in the center of her sole, a massive surge of true energy detonated.

THUMP.

A corpse left with only a lower jaw toppled backward, slumping against the wall of the dugout position.

The leaned corpse dropped both arms limply.

THUD—a fairly large pouch fell from the loose sleeve, hit the ground, and slumped open, its mouth showing—

and at the same time—

RATATATANG!

Fireworks popped loud, and then a sudden explosive burst of red mist-cloud.

What, a poison pouch?

Tang Nanna had something like this too, didn’t she—so are poison-sect methods all basically the same?

If the poison sect heard that, they might feel wronged.

Then again, you could say the same to any ordinary sect—everyone uses weapons, so are they all the same?

Poison smoke curled in and wrapped her in an instant.

A normal martial artist would panic and retreat as fast as possible—

but Qing wasn’t normal.

What, poison smoke?

Poison is zero danger to me—

“AAAAH! UGH—AAAHH! AAAAGH...!”

Qing screamed.

The poison did her no harm at all—if anything, it was a pleasant spicy kick, a delicacy that supplemented the Central Plains’ lack of heat.

Which meant—

“spicy.”

In an instant, a sharp, stabbing spice flooded into her eyes, her nostrils, every sensitive wall inside her nasal passages—

Even a master wouldn’t go blind just because their eyes stung a little.

The problem was this: it felt like she’d swallowed hot broth, choked hard, and had it surge up into her nose—this numb, fiery burn that made her whole skull feel lit.

“AAAH! AAAAGH! AAGH!”

If it was a hole punched somewhere in her torso, she could endure it.

But spice soaking into her nasal passages—she couldn’t hold a scream back.

Off to the side, a Five Poison Sect elder holding a javelin formed a vicious smile at the sound in his ear—somewhere between a scream and retching.

“Look! The poison works! Sons of the Five Poison Sect—listen! That’s the enemy’s scream!”

The elder barked—

then suddenly.

But... had they issued a poison that made someone scream that immediately?

The smoke rising should’ve been delayed Internal-Energy-Scattering Poison—poison smoke that dispersed internal energy, wasn’t it?

That moment, the enemy burst out through the poison smoke.

The elder hurriedly hauled his javelin back again—

and at the same time, whistles shrieked—

target fleeing, poison working, continue pursuit and drive into the net.

As the whistle signals spread, the elder sprinted after the direction Qing had vanished.

*****

Tears streaming, snot streaming-streaming-streaming.

The one saving grace was that Qing had already smeared mud across her face—and she was already drenched in blood.

No matter how much she cried or leaked from her nose, it didn’t show on the surface, so she avoided looking too pathetic.

The not-saving grace was that even without the tears and snot, she was already pathetic—mud-smeared, blood-soaked.

And the whites of her eyes were red-shot, too.

These bastards.

I will never forgive them.

Every breath made the deepest inside of her nose sting, so her whole skull felt nothing but stinging and burning.

Not pain, exactly—more like raw soreness.

But her mood—

was truly the worst.

“Gaaagh.”

A hot, miserable noise slipped out of her on its own.

If you’ve ever choked properly while eating spicy broth, you’d know it’s the kind of thing you can’t endure quietly.

WHEE-WHEE! WHEEEEE!

A loud flute screech.

Qing’s eyes turned into axe-blades.

BOOM—only the poor earth’s skin burst as she charged.

RATATATANG—Hidden-Weapon Canisters detonated loud.

Qing crossed her forearms in front of her face to take it, then raised the big saber she’d drawn again after the spicy smoke and swung—

That moment—

CLANG!

A heavy hidden weapon flew in fast and tapped Moonlit Night’s blade-face.

The blade that should’ve driven into the crown of someone’s head got knocked off-line, carving a generous chunk of shoulder flesh off a Five Poison Sect disciple instead, then burying itself in the dirt.

“Die! Enemy!”

Even with his shoulder sliced open to the bone, the disciple still stretched out a poison dagger with his one good hand.

THUNK—the tip sank into Qing’s side.

A dagger buried by one finger joint.

But the disciple clenched his teeth.

The side had no bone framework—press and it just gave.

In reality, muscle blocked the blade; it had only nicked skin and flesh.

The disciple ground his teeth in frustration.

If only my realm were a little higher. If only I handled sword-energy smoothly. If only I could’ve pushed deeper and poured poison in—

It was his last thought.

Because most people couldn’t think once their crown got punched down into a dent.

Qing drew back the weapon that had turned the disciple’s head into a concave shape.

Her elbow.

Real masters—no, that’s not it—what kind of “master” is peak rank—there were plenty of real trash-tier fighters here, and the bastards were fighting dirty, only throwing hidden weapons from far away.

Because of that Lightness Art that kept changing left and right, and because of the thick trees, she couldn’t catch those trash-tier bastards at all.

Thinking about it, was that the Five Poison Sect’s strength?

Run like geniuses, then throw hidden weapons from far away, and if she chased they ran again—

it was basically invincible.

So the Five Poison Sect weren’t something she could ignore?

It was a complete misunderstanding.

Of course, the Five Poison Sect were misunderstanding Qing just as hard.

They were sure the poison was working more and more.

All kinds of mixed poisons and deadly poisons had gotten in—so now even that loud mouth couldn’t keep running.

It wasn’t that.

Qing just couldn’t talk because her nasal passages were on fire.

And every time she started to feel better, they lit that spicy smoke again.

Like right now—

FOOOOSH!

“AAAAH! AGAIN!”

Sometimes a person can still “think” even after their crown gets punched down.

A hatred soaked to the marrow—so deep that even when the skull collapses and the brain turns to mush, the body can still perform a miracle in its final moment: it can yank the fuse on a pouch of poison powder and die.

Qing’s tears wouldn’t stop.

Her nose ran like a waterfall, and she kept wiping it so much she felt like her philtrum was going to rub raw and turn bright red.

But more than that—while she kept catching and killing these Five Poison Sect disciples who acted like sneaky rats—

one huge question wouldn’t leave her mind.

The Five Poison Sect created distance, but they didn’t run away.

When the moment came where they had to charge—when they’d been caught and had nowhere left to go—

even knowing it was an obvious dog’s death, they still burned with hatred and rushed in.

Why?

Why are these bastards going this far?