Chapter 937: A Strange Bitch, A Strange Guy, A Strange Guy (22)

The moment Qing got on, ice crawled up—CRRKK—and froze around her, wrapping her halfway in place.

Then Kim Heojung sprang.

Four limbs—no, both hands and both feet—splayed wide as he launched, and the sight of him in midair was exactly a frog—

No, a toad.

A frog’s skin was smooth. That didn’t match the bumpy, lumpy, pebbled outer shell of this crude bastard at all.

The ride was truly awful—ride-feel? mount-feel? carry-feel? toad-feel? There were apparently six different Central Plains characters that meant “toad,” and whatever the hell you called it, it was the worst.

Qing’s body pitched sideways, and she barely managed to cling on with her left hand.

—WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE RUNNING!!

Sixfold Voice Resonance tore through the air again, like it wanted to split her eardrums.

“What the hell is it!? How did the guy who was dying suddenly get so lively!? What did they do!?”

“I don’t know! Some bastards ripped out their own hearts and fed them to him—and he didn’t even chew, he just swallowed, and then he started spewing red energy!”

Blood Ghosts and Blood Hungry Ghosts had pulled out their own hearts—then even politely fed them to him.

Right when Kim Heojung was supposedly about to butcher those damned Central Plains bastards, the disaster struck out of nowhere. A qi shot so strong even the ice armor from the Black Warrior Dance couldn’t block it surged in, and he’d had no choice but to run.

Of course, “about to butcher them” was Kim Heojung’s one-sided claim. Whether he was actually winning or just tanking hits and hanging on was anyone’s guess.

Kim Heojung kept throwing his body forward.

Even with that bizarre, limbs-splayed posture, his bulk moved like an arrow. He shot straight, slapped onto a tree trunk, then launched again—into the ground, onto a tree, onto another tree, onto a boulder, back onto a tree.

Left and right, up and down, zigzagging like a “之.” It was genuine three-dimensional mobility, and the word acrobatic still felt too small.

But for Qing—half-buried in that ice mountain on his back—it was brutal.

She kept getting yanked sideways.

And it was cold!

Even Qing, who prided herself on not being easily chilled, couldn’t be “fine” while embedded in ice.

Only her tiny head stuck out. Her lips were turning blue, and white frost settled onto her long lashes like blooming snowflowers.

But she didn’t even get a second to focus on the cold—

CRUNCH! SPLINTER! BOOM! CRACK! KWOOM!

The sounds of destruction rushed closer from behind—the forest itself screaming as trees snapped, shattered, and toppled in every direction.

Qing was hanging in a way that let her see backward; her view spun up-down-left-right, and within it, giant pillars of earth were rising closer and closer.

“Faster—can’t you go faster!?”

“I’m doing my best!”

“No, when you and I fought that Sword De—no, that Sword Demon bastard, you were tearing through trees and rocks while chasing me!”

“Ultra-Spin Dance!? I can’t! If I do that, I can’t hold you!”

Qing—ah.

That spinning sphere of ice, rolling at insane speed and smashing everything in its path. If he used that to flee, they’d be gone faster.

Meaning: if he ran alone, he could’ve escaped.

But instead, he’d come back for her.

Qing felt a sudden, bitter stab of guilt.

Damn it. He’s... unexpectedly loyal.

Sorry for calling you a toad. Fine. Frog, then. Frogs are kind of cute.

From now on, Kim Heojung is Ice Toad. Ice Toad. That’s the name.

If Kim Heojung had known what she was thinking, he would’ve probably demanded she just call him “Black Warrior” like a normal person.

In the meantime—PFFFT—dirt sprayed over Qing.

The skin of the earth behind them flipped and erupted upward, and something enormous burst out through the soil column.

“What is that!? Who is that!?”

“The heart-eater!”

“What is it—why is it so fat!?”

It had a torso with a face, two arms, two legs.

But it didn’t look human.

A grotesquely swollen body. A head that had swollen too, except the body had ballooned so much that its lower jaw was half-buried in the flesh.

Its limbs were swollen as well.

It looked like... if that mascot back home—the one for the company that makes those roach traps—gained twice its body weight.

It was pure, bloated meat.

And the whole mass jiggled violently as it flew—if all of that was aura, then how much energy was packed inside it?

When Kim Heojung gathered the energy of Heaven and Earth, it didn’t feel like this.

This was like a gigantic landslide made of human aura, crashing toward them.

Qing finally understood his decision to run.

How do you not run when you see that?

A fat monster—an ultra-ultra-ultra-ultra-morbidly-obese monster.

Kim Heojung had every right to feel wronged, honestly, even while Qing was “understanding” him.

The Four-Direction Dances pulled in and handled the natural energy of Heaven and Earth. If human aura swallowed the surroundings and drove out natural energy, then of course the art couldn’t exert its full power.

And “of course” a person’s aura couldn’t possibly swell enough to drive out natural energy—

Except that was exactly what was happening.

In that moment, Qing realized she’d made eye contact with the Heart-Eating Demon.

His eyelids were so fat his eyes looked like tiny buttonholes, but she still knew—somehow—that their gazes had met.

—YOU RAT-LIKE BASTARDS! I’LL GRIND YOU DOWN AND DRINK YOU!!

WHOOOOM—Heart-Eating Demon rose and launched.

His hands had gotten so fat they looked like watermelons. His bare feet had gotten so fat they looked like old squashes.

Red aura blasted off him as he shot into the sky.

Qing’s face twisted into something foul.

What is he, some kind of steel-bodied man? He keeps dragging her back to thoughts of home. Was she really going to see this kind of sight even in this ancient, barbaric prehistoric era?

A heavy shadow fell across Qing’s face.

A massive wad of flesh blotted out the sun.

Then it charged—leading with its head—

“It’s coming!!! Dodge!!! Left!!!”

“I’m already doing my—”

KWOOM!

The whole world exploded into dirt, gravel, and tree roots.

A rising earth column swallowed Kim Heojung and Qing—only for a blink.

Then Kim Heojung shot out, limbs spread wide, spinning as he ricocheted like he was doing a sideways flip, and surged high into the sky.

“WAAAAAAAH!!” “KYYAAAAAAH!!”

A duet of screams—one low, one high.

Qing’s world spun.

Sky—horizon slanted—ruined forest—horizon—sky—horizon tilted the other way—

And hovering there, staring down, the freak.

A qi shot the size of a calf took shape.

“It’s coming! Palm wind! Palm wind! PALM WIND!”

Panicking, Qing hammered her left foot backward as fast as she could—TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP—

She was hanging off the ice mountain on Kim Heojung’s back, facing behind, so her frantic kicks pounded the back of his head over and over.

He should’ve been furious.

But there was no room for feelings.

CRRKKK...!

Ice froze everywhere at once, the sound ringing out, and a thick ice wall surged up on its own, wrapping around them in a dome.

Then—

KRAAASH!!

The wall shattered instantly.

Still, the collision between the qi shot and the ice wall ended up slamming Kim Heojung’s body sideways—like a giant shove—so the “one plus one” of the world’s ugliest man and the world’s most beautiful woman managed to gain distance again.

But for how long?

Qing swallowed hard.

Maybe Heart-Eating Demon couldn’t last.

No matter what kind of wicked Blood Cult sorcery this was, there were limits to what a human body could hold.

His whole body was swollen like that—his energy channels and blood vessels had to be collapsing.

Meaning: this could be a dying demonic monster’s last frenzy—burning his life away.

But what if it wasn’t?

Would a Blood Cult demonic monster really sacrifice himself just to kill an enemy? Those bastards cherished their own lives above everything in the world.

Maybe he had a method—some way to “promise later,” even in pieces.

Or maybe he was betting on the Sword Demon, who still hadn’t caught up yet.

Qing clenched her teeth.

“Sir—leave me and go.”

“What!? What are you saying?”

“Leave me! You can escape alone!”

If she ran the opposite direction and met up with the Sword Demon, somehow she could probably keep herself alive.

And if she stayed alive, she could find a way—through the Martial Arts Window, or the status window, or something.

Kim Heojung fell silent.

Then—CRRKK—ice froze tighter instead, and Qing went from “half-buried” to “only her head sticking out.”

“It’s fine! Even if I live, I’ll just die alone someday anyway!”

“Hey—shit—let go!”

Qing wriggled, but her internal power was a handful of dust now. Her right arm was shredded. The ice prison cinching her whole body didn’t even tremble.

“Let go! I’m freezing! I’m gonna die of cold!!”

“Kehehe... isn’t this cool, though!?”

This bastard stays ugly nonstop—so why does he only try to act cool at times like this?

He’s making her feel guilty.

And seriously—two Transcendent Realm monsters at once? How did that make sense?

What was this place, a Blood Cult nest? Why were all the freaks gathering here?

This was all that Seol Family bastard’s fault—feeding her impossible, false information.

She shouldn’t have come to Changbai Mountain.

Yeah.

From the start, from the beginning—she should never have come to Changbai Mountain.

Why had she come?

To find one of the Ten Great Demonic Arts—Heaven-Sundering Reverse-Blood Heart-Needle Pointing Art. To find Reverse-Blood Demon Art.

And before that—before even that—

Why had she decided Changbai Mountain was the place to look for Reverse-Blood Demon Art?

Because it was “efficient.”

Merit Exchange was a system where, once her merit reached certain thresholds, she could choose a martial art she wanted and learn it.

The first threshold: five hundred points—Tathagata Divine Palm.

One thousand—Minor Water Demon Art.

One thousand five hundred—Great Stillness Immortal Art.

Two thousand—Muscle-Tendon Transformation and Marrow Cleansing Classic.

Three thousand—Emperor Sword Form.

Four thousand—Ice-White Divine Art.

Five hundred, one thousand, one thousand five hundred, two thousand.

Four times, in five-hundred increments.

Three thousand, four thousand—two times, in one-thousand increments.

So the next required threshold should be five thousand.

But after that, she didn’t know when the Merit Exchange requirements would rise, or by how much.

Back when she’d been agonizing over it, her merit had been somewhere in the late seven-thousands. If it kept rising by one thousand each time, she could exchange three more arts at five, six, seven thousand.

But if the required merit spiked even once, she’d only get two exchanges and be done.

And if she swapped “blindly,” and it turned out she only got two exchanges—and she ended up one art short?

Worse—what if the remaining three demonic arts could show up anywhere in the world, and she swapped early, and then later one of them appeared naturally?

That would be a loss.

A wasted exchange—burning a chance that could buy anything.

For example: if she exchanged for Skyward Kill and Half-Body Long-Calamity Saber Art, and then somewhere down the line Skyward Kill showed up anyway—

She’d {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} have thrown away a priceless exchange for nothing.

Yeah.

That was the problem.

Thrown away? Loss? Since when did she get to worry about “loss,” while constantly screaming about how she had to get stronger?

Qing ground her teeth—GRIT.

She’d been desperate, desperate, desperate—I need to get stronger fast—and yet when it came to actually choosing how to get stronger, the thought in her head had been “efficiency” and “waste”?

Was that the posture of someone truly cornered?

She should’ve exchanged earlier.

If she’d had three exchanges, she would’ve ended her quest long ago and learned Northern Abyss Divine Art or whatever it was.

And even if it turned out she only got two exchanges—then she’d just beat down demonic monsters and fill merit again.

But she’d tried to “save” it.

She’d acted grave. She’d acted urgent.

And in the end, she’d been hoarding it because it felt “wasteful.”

And now she was in this remote backwater, chased by Blood Cult bastards, not even getting the martial arts she’d come for—

And being saved by a man she’d been calling ugly in her own head—

“Noble Lady! Thinking about it, dying without ever doing it with a woman is too unfair! I’m sorry, but can I let you go now!? At least let me hit a pleasure house! I practiced so much, it’d be a waste! This is the one thing I’m at least proud of—I have to use it once!!”

“HEY! YOU—FUCK! I can’t even THINK!”

Her gratitude shattered instantly—KRAAASH.

God, seriously. He’s disgusting. You crude bastard...

“Hold out a little longer! I’ve got one last thing to try!”

“Hurry! And why have you been talking down to me this whole—”

“Not now! Just—!”

Kim Heojung clamped his mouth shut.

Qing pulled up the Martial Arts Window—the same thing she only called when she needed it, while constantly insulting and rejecting it.

Her current merit was 8,051.

When she’d started out, it had been in the late 7,000s. Looks like beating down corrupt officials and the Sword Demon’s disciples had pushed her into the 8,000s.

But what was there to hesitate over now?

Even if things went wrong, once she learned Heaven-Sundering Reverse-Blood Heart-Needle Pointing Art, she could replenish internal power.

Reverse-Blood Demon Art was supposed to reverse the circulation of internal power and generate horrifying destructive force.

If it came to it, she could send Ice Toad off to lose his virginity before dying, and then try to escape on her own.

Qing forced the exchange with a thought.

Five-thousand-point exchange: Heaven-Sundering Reverse-Blood Heart-Needle Pointing Art.

Please—next is six thousand. Six thousand!

But the requirement that appeared was 6,500.

Qing chose Skyward Kill immediately.

And then—

The next requirement.

A bright smile spread across Qing’s face.

Required merit: 8,000.

She knew it. She believed in it. She’d never once doubted it—Martial Arts Window, the moment she saw you, she could only smile!

You’re all I have! My light! My salt! My soul’s friend—my soul’s one and only—

If the Martial Arts Window had a sense of self, it would’ve cursed her out in both directions and told her to go to hell, but whatever.

Finally—

Half-Body Long-Calamity Saber Art, exchanged.

Then Qing used the mountain of training points she’d been hoarding to raise the achievement of the newly learned demonic arts.

The Ten Great Demonic Arts—gathered in one place.

A moment without precedent in the history of the martial world.

The birth of a demonic practitioner among demonic practitioners—an arch-demonic practitioner—

Seomun Cheong.

And—

*****

Suddenly, the sky reflected in Qing’s eyes was clear.

SPLASH... SPLASH...

For some reason, she could hear waves.

A peculiar buoyant feeling, lying on water with her strength released—currents sliding across her whole body like gentle hands.

Qing was floating on the sea.

On a sea so peaceful it felt unreal.