Chapter 917: A Strange Bitch, A Strange Guy, A Strange Guy (2)

“[No, it’s not—]”

“[Oh. It’s fine.]”

Kim Heojung made a strange expression.

A face you couldn’t describe as anything but strange—Qing had to rack her brain desperately before she could form a shaky hypothesis that maybe, just maybe, he was trying to look gentle.

But he was so ugly that, well. Ugh. I shouldn’t keep having thoughts this mean.

Qing was left speechless—not just at an incomprehensible, unidentified expression, but at a level of ugliness beyond “ugly.” The hunchback nodded like he understood.

“[From my own deductions, I can only assume the noble young lady must be facing circumstances grave enough that you had to come in person! I, Kim Heojung, am not some coldhearted man who pries into a woman’s sorrow. Just tell me you need help. I will be your strength.]”

No, what “deductions”? Not a single thing you said is right. And beyond that, why are you being this aggressively kind?

“[Aren’t you cold? The Gaema cold is no ordinary thing. The Gaema midsummer chill is colder than winter in Daegu Prefecture. Even if it’s early spring, it must have been harsh on someone as precious as you. Come—first, I’ll serve you tea, so warm yourself up. Ah, I’ll prepare some for the maids as well, so you needn’t trouble yourself with concern.]”

As Kim Heojung left, saying he would boil water, the Plunderer Demon spoke quietly to Qing.

“If I can’t see his realm, then he’s definitely a demon practitioner who’s entered Demon Deviation.”

At around the Transcendent Realm, you could usually tell at a glance what realm someone below Supreme Peak was in. If you couldn’t see it, that was proof of a true master—meaning Harmonization Realm or higher.

“No, a demon practitioner? He looks fine. Polite, even.”

“Did you attach your eyes just for decoration? Look—look at his eyes. He’s completely gone in the head. You can tell at a glance. He’s not just crazy—he’s crazy to the core. Tsk, tsk.”

That was the moment.

“[Just now—who dared utter the word ‘barbarian’?]”

Kim Heojung froze mid-step toward the hut, then slowly turned around, his face twisted into a deep scowl.

His face was already warped, and now he was scowling on top of it—wow. My god. He’s really ugly. I shouldn’t keep thinking this, but how is he this astonishingly, freshly ugly every time I look.

“[Young lady, how could you bring filthy barbarians as your escort? You must not do that. The sword world has plenty of excellent masters. And yet you still picked up that barbarian—some trashy, dogshit, lowborn breed you could chew up and spit out—and use him as your guard?]”

Suddenly, the vibe was “hate Central Plains people.”

“[No—if I deduce it, you must have had no choice. If you came all the way here yourself, you must have a truly desperate story. And surely that even more damned, bastard barbarian learned of it, approached you, and means to exploit you, isn’t that so?]”

What is with this “deduction,” seriously.

When a deduction is right, it’s impressive. When it’s wrong, nothing is uglier than that.

“[Uh... I’m a barbarian too, you know.]”

“[But you are our compatriot, aren’t you? Those Tang bastards with their twisted tongues could never imitate refined Hanseong pronunciation like yours. So naturally you must be our compatriot—only hiding it because you have your reasons. But you must not do that. No matter the circumstances, how can a person imitate less-than-human manure trash? If anything, you should claim descent from Arasa or the Jin Kingdom.]”

Kim Heojung, to the bitter end, couldn’t get his precious “deduction” right even once.

Granted, in this case Kim Heojung had room to feel wronged—the flat, straight, accentless diction of Hanseong prigs really was the kind of speech you’d hear from someone born and raised in Hanseong, and among those, from a high household.

But when Kim Heojung’s eyes flashed, Qing finally understood the Plunderer Demon.

Yeah. His eyes are genuinely broken.

It was an unsettling fury, like Central Plains people were his parents’ mortal enemies—eyes glossy and smooth as if someone had set glass beads into his skull.

Qing tested him, carefully.

“[Um. You seem to hate Central Plains people. If I’m from the Central Plains... you won’t help me?]”

“[That’s... filthy Tang blood, but... hm. Hmmm. HNNNG.]”

Kim Heojung furrowed his jutting brows and started thinking.

But why is there even anything to think about?

He glared at the Plunderer Demon like he wanted to kill him the moment he spoke Central Plains speech, but when I ask, he’s actually considering whether to help me or not?

Why?

Qing sank into thought too, and for a moment, silence fell.

“Ahem. If you traveled from the Central Plains all the way here, you must have made an even greater resolve. Needing to ask help of someone in the sword world on this distant Joseon land means it must be an extremely grave matter.”

From Kim Heojung’s mouth spilled fairly fluent Central Plains speech.

As he spoke, the shine returned to his eyes like nothing had happened.

It was honestly creepy—how does someone’s gaze flip like that? Is this that schizophrenia thing? Chilling.

“If I deduce it, it’s something that requires an outsider, not a martial artist—meaning something martial artists intensely avoid. And something that would put a martial artist up against a powerful enemy they don’t want to make into a grudge. Then it must be a great organization... or the imperial palace.”

Of course it isn’t.

“Either way, it’s a chance to kill those Tang bastards who swagger around acting precious—so helping you will also be my joy. So just say the word. I—don’t ask that horrible Central Plains bastard. Me! I will help you!”

Because he kept stepping on rakes, it was getting harder to talk.

And if I said I came to steal the martial art he’d mastered... wouldn’t that picture be unbelievably weird too?

Still.

I should try speaking first.

And even that leechlike martial-art thief, the Plunderer Demon, felt dependable right now.

I brought a Transcendent Realm master, okay?

Thinking about it again, it really was reassuring. A Transcendent Realm master on my side—what on earth is there to fear?

“It’s not that. I came to learn the martial art you’ve mastered—more precisely, Heaven-Sundering Reverse-Blood Heart-Needle Pointing Art.”

“Heaven-Sundering Reverse-Blood Heart-Needle Pointing Art? One of the Ten Great Demonic Arts?”

“Yes. That Heaven-Sundering Rever—ugh, why is it so long—yeah, that. If it’s gold and silver, I can pay as much as you want. I plan to use it for a good cause, so just think of it as doing a good deed...”

Qing spoke cautiously, watching his face.

Even to me, that sounds like something you’d say only if you wanted to die.

Kim Heojung’s small eyes became... less small. He was probably opening them wide in shock.

But his eyes were so tiny and warped, and his upper lids drooped so heavily they covered the top—what the specialists call ptosis—that there was a hard limit to how wide his “wide-eyed” could get.

“Y-You...!”

GRIND. The sound of teeth scraping.

Qing slid down off Lu Bu and planted both feet on the ground, then gave Gongryang Sayoon a subtle look.

Gongryang Sayoon approached quietly, took the reins, and backed away slowly.

No way this was going to end nicely.

With small fry, you could act cocky from horseback and be done with it—but if you needed to seize a demon practitioner, you had to have your feet on the ground to bring out your real ability.

“So you didn’t come to avenge your clan or sect? You didn’t come all the way to Changbai to find the hidden master, Master Singwi, clutching at even a straw because you had no one else to help you?”

“Wait, calm down. Can we talk in our language? This elder here is a real master. You’re in front of a Transcendent Realm master, so control your anger—”

“You despicable bitch! You tricked me! How—how could you trick me?! Just like filthy Central Plains blood! So it was all... all lies? I was going to grant you my kindness, overcome hardship together, and then our tender love would bloom... I even thought I’d grow old with you and have, say, five daughters—!! And yet...!! This is betrayal! Betrayal! Give it back! Give me back my dream!”

Goosebumps erupted across Qing’s entire body.

This bastard’s so-called kindness—now that I’m looking at it—was him trying to help me get revenge so he could worm his way into seducing me!

“No, when did we ever even meet, let alone promise anything? Betrayal my ass. And what am I supposed to ‘give back’? You played your own drum and your own gong all by yourself and wrote the whole script yourself. From the start, your ‘help’ was nothing but filthy ulterior motives.”

“GWAAAH! So you’re saying an ugly bastard should just live alone and die?! Then should I die?! Should I die and then try again after I’m reborn?!!”

Kim Heojung roared.

The force of it was unreal—an enraged beast’s howl wouldn’t have matched it.

Though, the content was... kind of—

“If this hideous thing doesn’t ‘bestow kindness,’ what woman would ever like an ugly hunchback like me?! I want to find a mate too! I want to find a mate!!”

“Uh... I see...”

With tears trembling in his eyes as he screamed, Qing couldn’t bring herself to laugh.

Unfortunately, the Central Plains didn’t have some social policy where men were assigned numbers and handed matching opportunities.

Looks were something you were born with. You could dress up and correct a little with effort, sure—but there were limits.

And Kim Heojung’s looks were beyond what effort could salvage.

Even a lump of clay rolled into a rough ball would be more handsome than that. Ugh. Bad thoughts. Stop it.

“Uh... but in the martial world, masters get treated well. If you build a reputation now and make your name—”

“Shut up! Those women just approach men for their ability—whores, aren’t they?! What’s needed is a natural bond! A natural meeting without any condition or intention!”

Mm. I’m starting to get annoyed.

“Understanding each other with pure hearts—not for ability or looks. Loving each other, and even while looking at each other, still wanting to look more. If you can’t see them, your chest tears apart—this kind of pure love is true love!”

If you don’t look at ability, and you don’t look at looks, then even you don’t know your own heart—how are you supposed to “connect” and “understand”?

It doesn’t matter where you’re drawn—ability, looks, personality.

When two different people meet, sure, it’d be great if they only had good sides. But even when they don’t, you accept and give up on certain parts—in other words, you accommodate each other. You adjust for each other.

Well. It depends on the person, I guess...

But if you want that “true love,” isn’t that... insanely hard? Wouldn’t it take forever?

Qing was choosing her words, trying to coax him not to lose hope—

“You have to take responsibility.”

“What? What responsibility? Why would I take responsibility?”

“Because you damn Central Plains bastards—because you Central Plains trash made me into this hideous thing! So as a Central Plains person, take responsibility! Come in as my concubine and live with me!”

“No, what the hell. Didn’t you just say connecting by hearts and pure love and whatever? Taking responsibility as atonement for an entire ethnicity—how is that pure love? And what do you mean concubine—what kind of dogshit—”

“That’s why it’s concubine! Should I date a filthy, stinking Central Plains bitch instead?!”

“No, you—what kind of—”

“GWAAAH! Why! Why won’t you listen to me?!”

Kim Heojung abruptly dropped to his knees with a desperate howl.

Then he collapsed forward and started pounding the ground with his fists, screaming without end.

Because he was a hunchback, that bulging back made him look less like someone crumpling in despair and more like... a turtle. Or a softshell turtle.

That was the moment.

A massive surge of energy spread outward—no, the opposite.

A massive current of natural qi was violently rushing into this place.

It was like a storm. The roar of the gale whipping through—WHIIIIIIIR—the clattering of winter branches rubbing together—RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE—so loud it felt like all the qi in the world was gathering here.

Then, suddenly, Kim Heojung’s gaze snapped to Qing.

A grotesque posture—his arms and legs stretched straight, face-down on the ground, his limbs far too short for his torso.

His neck extended forward, unnaturally long, thrusting out—

And on that face, his eyes blazed with murderous intent.

Then his front paw—no, his left hand—slid forward, brushing the ground toward Qing, and—

THUD!

“Damn it! Run!”

The Plunderer Demon shouted, yanking his saber free and throwing himself in front of Qing.

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

Giant spikes—spikes of ice—erupted in a chained surge, flooding toward them.

The Plunderer Demon’s saber drew countless afterimages.

SKRRRAAASH! The sound of ice being shredded rang out as the Hundred-Refinements Saber Art hammered the rising ice-mountain apart, scattering shards in every direction.

Then, a vicious cold settled over everything.

In an instant, frost formed on Qing’s long eyelashes, leaving white afterimages at the top and bottom of her vision.

The cold that sank into her lungs was so biting it didn’t just sting—it ached, a tearing pain.

And inside that ripping chill, the Plunderer Demon’s urgent voice snapped Qing’s mind sharp.

“We’ve been tricked! It’s a Transcendent Demon—an absolute monster at the Transcendent Demon realm!”