I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch

When Qing opened the guest room door of the Wucheon Pavilion lodging, exhausted, Tang Nanah popped up with a flourish and rested her chin in her hands beneath her face.

“Tada! A blossom for our dear Qing!”

Qing just stared blankly at the ridiculous display, her face worn out with fatigue.

Tang Nanah, slightly embarrassed and a little hurt that Qing wasn’t playing along, was about to whine—until she got a good look at Qing’s face and immediately raised her voice.

“Qing!? What happened to your face!? Have you been crying!?”

During the torture, her body had swelled up. Afterward, her face puffed up like a balloon.

Because she cried until there were no tears left.

Qing replied with a weary look.

“It’s not... that...”

“Then what’s with your voice!?”

Her voice was completely gone, so hoarse it came out as nothing more than a wheeze of air.

“It’s fine. But where’s Master...?”

“Oh, she said she was off to catch up with some old friends today.”

Well, of course. Master has friends too, and the Murim Tournament is one of those rare times when people gather—she probably wanted to see some familiar faces.

No wonder Tang Nanah showed up.

The moment her master stepped out, Tang Nanah slipped in.

Whether Qing cared or not, Tang Nanah chattered on about her day.

“Oh, right! Grandmaster led the Half-Saber Twin-Blade Society meeting today.”

“The Half-what now...”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know. Grandmaster saw everyone’s passion and said, ‘Wouldn’t it be lovely to form even a small club together?’ And that’s the name we came up with.”

Namgung Shinjae pushed for ‘Old Sword Society,’ and Gongson Yoye timidly raised her hand in agreement. A club for refining and polishing sword skills.

Then Peng Choryo argued they should use the character for ‘Path’ instead and go with ‘Sword-Path Society.’ She and Peng Daesan were on the same page.

But come on, when a saber-user insists on the ‘Path’ character, it’s pretty obvious what their agenda is.

So they got into a loud argument—about sabers, swords, and how someone was pretending to be both—and apparently, someone let slip that a certain person was basically acting like a bat, flitting between sides.

And thus, they settled on the Half-Saber Twin-Blade Society.

There was even heated debate over whether it should be Twin-Blade Half-Saber or Half-Saber Twin-Blade, but since "blade" generally comes after "sword" in formal usage, Peng Choryo conceded, saying, “Now that you mention it, that does make sense. The earlier ‘blade’ should yield this time.” And that was that.

“...What the hell is that even supposed to mean...”

Qing didn’t care. She was way too tired.

With a step, she left her top. With another, her skirt. Three more, and her undergarments were shed like a discarded shell as she collapsed face-first onto the bedding.

“Qing? At least lie down properly. Even if it’s warm, you still need to cover up.”

“...Do it for me...”

Tang Nanah was a martial artist too, so flipping over one person like Qing wasn’t exactly difficult or a big hassle.

But normally, people help a little when being carried. Qing’s consciousness, however, was already slipping somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness.

With Qing completely limp, Tang Nanah struggled into the night, grunting and groaning as she tried to get her settled.

****

Qing suddenly woke up to a numb arm. It was still pitch black—deep into the night.

She quickly figured out the reason: Tang Nanah had fallen asleep on her arm, her face buried in Qing’s neck, breathing softly like a child.

When she hadn’t known who it was, it ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) had been suffocating. But now that she knew, that quiet little wheeze near her ear was surprisingly peaceful and pleasant.

Besides, what was one Tang Nanah lying on the torso of humanity’s physically strongest woman?

The warmth pressed against her was incredibly soothing. The steady, gentle thump of a heartbeat radiated comfort.

At least like this—pressed together—there’d be no sudden “it was just a dream” fake-out ending.

Why does she smell so sweet? What kind of powder does she use? I want to warm up a glass of milk and sip it slowly.

Qing smiled and closed her eyes again.

Then opened them once more, refreshed as if yesterday had just been a dream—as if it had all been a dream...

Yesterday... ughhh...

Qing shivered and curled up.

Just thinking about it made her knees weak and the back of her neck ache. A truly horrifying experience.

And she had to go through that again? Nineteen more times?

Wouldn’t it be easier to just train for twenty years instead?

As Qing seriously contemplated this, Tang Nanah stirred and sat up groggily.

Qing greeted her with a soft smile.

“Nanah? Did you sleep well?”

“Wh—what?”

Tang Nanah froze like a deer in headlights.

The poor girl had woken up first thing in the morning only to be greeted, up close and personal, by the warm, glowing smile of Qing’s soft face.

A scene utterly hazardous to heart health.

Tang Nanah blushed furiously and shoved her face into the pillow.

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

“No, no, it’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. I mean it. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

“...Why are you like this first thing in the morning?”

Thanks to Qing’s transcendent martial hearing, she caught the barely muttered words:

...son-in-law... serve the family... excellent servant for the clan...

And then—son-in-law? Her mind lit up.

“Ah—what time is it? Nanah! I have to go! Master’s probably waiting!”

Qing frantically pulled her clothes on and dashed out of the room.

With peerless movement techniques, she flew across the training grounds, flung open the bathhouse door—and was immediately hit by the fragrant aroma of all kinds of medicinal herbs.

Cheon Yuhak, fanning the fire beneath the bath, grumbled without turning around.

“What the hell? I told you to come after lunch. Why’re you here already?”

“Oh. You did? I was basically passed out yesterday...”

“Hmm. Maybe I didn’t say it. I was pretty much passed out too.”

Now that she looked, Cheon Yuhak’s face was pale and drained. He looked exhausted.

“Master? Are you okay?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to brew a whole damn bath instead of just one pot of tonic? I had to watch that fire all night.”

“I mean... thank you, but don’t you usually act like that’s no big deal?”

“Hah! When someone busts their ass, they gotta let people know. I went all night preparing this for my dear disciple—you better appreciate it.”

“Hehe... thank you.”

He really had gotten up in the middle of the night, even after yesterday’s hell, and prepared a brand-new medicinal bath just for her.

She felt both guilty and grateful.

The resentment leftover from yesterday gently melted away.

Just as planned by Cheon Yuhak.

That whole “come late” thing? Yeah, he never said that.

He wanted her to show up in the morning and see him looking like death warmed over while prepping her bath.

To be honest, Qing used to think her master was a complete jerk. The brutal training and nonstop taunts had morphed her annoyance into resentment.

It was the perfect example of revenge passed down from master to disciple—many masters and disciples in martial history shared a love-hate bond just like that.

But when Cheon Yuhak actually tried to take in a disciple and pay back what he had suffered, he realized... maybe he’d rather be respected than get a few petty laughs.

...Though that didn’t mean he didn’t still torment her. He got in all his bullying and acted like a kind master.

Still, dark-hearted or not, he’d put in real effort.

And to Qing, that made him truly a good teacher.

“Mmm. That smell is so nice. Now that I’m smelling it... I’m hungry...”

Right on cue, her stomach growled.

Cheon Yuhak chuckled and tossed something her way.

“Huh? What is this?”

“Chinese yam.”

Qing looked down at the perfectly peeled root in her hands. It felt slippery and unappealing to the touch, but the earthy, plant-like aroma was surprisingly appetizing.

She bit into it. It was crunchy and fibrous like raw sweet potato but had a sticky, clinging texture that coated her mouth.

“Hmm... it’s unexpectedly edible.”

“A pampered little girl like you actually eating that? It’s bland as hell—nobody eats it raw unless they’re starving.”

Chinese yam didn’t taste good. The texture sucked.

He only threw it to her to mess with her, not because it was actually something worth eating.

Truth is, Cheon Yuhak—pampered noble that he was—couldn’t eat it either.

Despite his lazy looks, he was the prized heir of a prestigious family and the head professor of Hanlim Academy.

“Pampered? Who, me? Haven’t you heard I used to be a beggar?”

“Oh, really? I just assumed you were some noble young lady from a powerful clan, what with all that elegance radiating off you.”

Cheon Yuhak smoothed over what was nearly a verbal misstep by effortlessly turning it into a compliment.

Qing, completely missing the subtle spin, giggled.

“Well, I do have a bit of a regal air to me, don’t I?”

“Regal, my ass. I’m the one who comes from a prestigious line—five generations of government officials, all fifth-rank or higher. Do I seem like that?”

“Want me to be honest?”

“You already were, weren't you...”

Since she was there anyway, Qing kept chatting while helping prepare the medicinal bath.

They ground up yams, wild yams, and Chinese yams. Then added finely blended onions, scallions, lotus roots. And then some taro...

“Master? Are you sure this is for a medicinal bath? It's starting to look more like vegetable porridge.”

“I told you—I’m no expert in medicine. I just follow the ancient recipe. I’ve got no idea why we put this stuff in.”

“There’s ginseng in here too, right? I can smell it.”

“Ginseng? Hell yeah. You know how many roots of Hundred-Year Snow Ginseng went in here? I even added a few Soul Recovery Pills and two Supreme Essence Pills. This isn’t just a tonic—it’s a full-on miracle bath. Not something you drink—your body absorbs it.”

“Oh, a miracle tonic! Come to think of it... I don’t think I’ve ever actually taken one before. Huh.”

Suddenly, a memory popped up—back in the Demonic Cult, didn’t that bastard posing as Supreme Envoy order all the miracle tonics be sent over to the Saintess and her?

So why did she only get the martial arts manuals, but none of the tonics?

Did someone swipe them?

Well, of course they did. Those suck-up subordinates only pretended to listen to the Supreme Envoy. Why would they ever give rare elixirs to Qing?

The martial arts manuals were practically meaningless if she was just going to end up defecting to the Orthodox Sect. So they tossed those around like candy.

Meanwhile, the bath was finally complete.

“This miracle bath is only for disciples who’ve learned the Awakened Core Technique. You have to absorb it through the skin specifically to cultivate that technique. Otherwise, drinking it raw would be more effective. One dose of this stuff shoots you straight to Five-Star Core Formation.”

“Whoa. Five Stars? Just like that?”

“Altogether, the miracle ingredients in here are probably worth around two hundred gold taels. Honestly, I don’t have to do this for my disciple. Even for a seasoned master, two hundred taels is... a bit much.”

The implication was clear: He was doing it just for her.

Qing, deeply moved, dropped into a full, formal bow.

“Ahh... thank you—thank you so much. This humble disciple shall carve your grace into her very bones.”

“Hmph. Don’t just say it—show me. Besides, you might be capable of reaching even higher than Five Stars. You sucked out every last drop of that medicinal sludge yesterday, remember? Normally, most of the tonic gets wasted since people can’t absorb it all. That’s why masters usually don’t bother.”

Cheon Yuhak had seen it firsthand—Qing had drained the entire Abyss of Trial Elixir the day before. That’s why he figured she’d handle the miracle bath too, with no waste.

Honestly, it’d be way more practical to ration out those ingredients over two years and have her ingest them slowly.

This kind of bath was a desperate, last-resort treatment—used when a successor was too old, too ill, or had deteriorated meridians and needed a shock to the system.

“Well then. Let’s eat lunch before you get in the tub.”

“Ooh! So what’s for lunch? Hmm... for some reason, I’m really craving warm milk porridge today. What do you think?”

“Why go out when we’ve got a perfectly good health stew right here? I tossed in all the best ingredients—it’d be a waste not to eat it. I’m just gonna scoop some out and boil it with rice.”

Apparently, her bathwater was doubling as her lunch.

To anyone else, that would sound incredibly gross.

But Qing? She just smiled brightly.

“Wow. Sounds delicious.”