I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 225: Dormant Dragon Martial Contest (7)

“The winner—Ximen Qing, disciple of the Divine Maiden Sect!”

Another wave of boos erupted in response.

Qing chuckled behind her veil again.

Looks like my odds were high again.

She didn’t consider herself elitist or anything, but frankly, it was impossible for regular civilians with their laughably limited insight to grasp her martial skill.

And they really couldn’t.

Qing hadn’t shown much in previous matches, and with the recent surge of unaffiliated martial artists performing like revolutionaries, her betting odds had spiked again.

Of course, they weren’t as high as last time, so there were still some people who made money betting on her win. Even so, the fight felt underwhelming to many.

The swords had only clashed once. Do Raeman was ferocious and fast to the point of disbelief, while Qing mostly danced around, looking graceful and focused entirely on defense.

Then, out of nowhere, Do Raeman rushed in and seemed to just... hand her the victory.

Naturally, when coincidences pile up, they stop being coincidences. So some began to wonder if the “Veiled Swordwoman” actually had real skill.

But whether in Zhongyuan or the Western Regions, whether this barbaric medieval world or the not-so-different modern one, people never needed a real reason to insult someone they thought was ugly.

Someone in the crowd just had to start booing, someone who lost a bet joined in, and the rest simply followed: Oh, I guess that ugly chick cheated or something.

As the announcer called for silence, Qing jumped down from the tournament platform into the corridor below. After glancing around, she took off in a flash using the Heaven-Dominating Demonic Step.

“Do So-hyeop! May I have a word with you?”

“Oh—Ximen Sojeo.”

Do Raeman, who had been heading back to the waiting area on the opposite side, paused when he saw her and gave a martial salute. He looked a bit awkward, glancing around before speaking.

“You showed me mercy, and yet public opinion has turned sour. I apologize for that.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for, Do So-hyeop. There are still many matches left—surely they’ll come to recognize my skill eventually.”

“You’re truly kind-hearted. Ah, but I don’t mean to imply anything else—”

“Oh no, don’t go apologizing again. It’s fine.”

Qing waved him off with a smile, then moved straight to the real reason she’d stopped him.

“I’m not well-versed in martial arts theory, but your Danyang Blade Technique didn’t seem to be based on explosive movement. Am I right?”

“Yes, that’s true. But... how did you figure that out...?”

“Hmm. That’s the thing...”

Now that she’d brought it up, she wasn’t sure how to continue.

She’d stopped him because something felt off, but now what? Hey, what kind of stuff did you do to rack up such a high evil karma score? Yeah, no.

Even asking it indirectly felt weird. Have you... done any bad stuff recently? Four more points and she could’ve just smacked him and called it a day.

That was when—

“Uuurgh...!”

Do Raeman’s back suddenly arched like a sickle, and a loud, grotesque retching sound followed.

Thankfully, other than a long, drooping line of saliva, there was no hideous liquid or half-digested mess. Just some really intense dry heaving.

“Do So-hyeop? Are you alright?”

“I-I'm... ugh, I’m fine, I’m f—bleh.”

No, he clearly wasn’t fine.

Qing gently rubbed his back.

Should I go get a doctor or something? But leaving him like this also felt wrong.

“I’m alright now...”

“Are you sick? {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} Is this some kind of chronic illness?”

“No, no. It’s just...”

He paused, watching her face carefully. Then he let out a long sigh and asked:

“Ximen Sojeo... how would you define the difference between an elixir and a poison?”

What? Why are you asking me that?

“Hmm. I’m not sure, honestly.”

“Truth is... I met a Divine Hermit.”

“Oh?”

Qing’s eyes went wide. Of course, with her veil on, no one could see her expression—but the peculiar way she made that little noise was enough to make anyone smile.

“Haha, Sojeo, you’re unexpectedly cute. Ah! Don’t take it the wrong way. I just imagined you as someone more... graceful, I suppose.”

“Well, I was trying to act graceful. I guess it worked. So... you met a Divine Hermit?”

“Yes. And the Divine Hermit gave me this pill.”

He pulled out a small wooden box from his robes. Inside were two blood-red pills.

Ugh. That color’s not doing it any favors. Just looking at it makes my skin crawl.

“They’re called Sleepfire Pills. Do you know them?”

“Nope. Are they famous?”

“They temporarily overflow your body with Source Qi.”

“Source Qi? But if it overflows, doesn’t that shorten your lifespan...?”

“Exactly. It pushes you beyond your limit, but at the cost of lifespan. And since it pulls directly from your Source, the strain on the body is enormous. Hence this.”

“Ah...”

Back in her hometown, this would’ve been considered a doping drug—and the side effects made that crystal clear.

But then again, is it really doping if you’re using your own lifespan? Is that evil? Does it rack up evil karma?

Qing didn’t know the rules here. This was her first time at a martial tournament in Zhongyuan.

Was this illegal? Immoral? If it was, he sure was open about it.

“Did I... disappoint you?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure. Is it disappointing? Doesn’t it not really matter?”

If this were back home, Qing might have criticized it as cheating.

But this was Zhongyuan.

If boosting your inner power with an elixir made you noble under the heavens, why was borrowing Source Qi from your own lifespan considered underhanded or fraudulent?

Do Raeman stared blankly at her.

“You don’t seem like someone from a reputable sect. Ah—I don’t mean that as an insult—”

“It’s okay. Before my master took me in, I was just a wandering stray too. And that wasn’t so long ago—four years, maybe?”

“Ah.”

Do Raeman smiled gently, then pulled out one of the pills, wrapped it in his handkerchief, and tucked it into his robes. The box he handed to Qing.

“Here. For you. Just... don’t use it during the tournament. Most people would call that cheating.”

And just like that, Qing understood the unaffiliated martial artists’ wild rise.

So they all took drugs before competing, huh? No wonder their karma spiked.

But... was that really evil?

Was the status window being way too uptight?

Still... why give it to her?

“Wait. Why are you giving this to me?”

“It’s called a ‘life-saving thorn.’ If you take it in a moment of crisis, when your life is truly on the line, it’ll help. Greatly.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

She hadn’t thought of that. This was the Murim Tournament, after all.

Better to shave off a bit of lifespan than lose your life entirely.

“Then... isn’t it valuable?”

“I received it without any special payment myself. The Divine Hermit offered it to me, saying, ‘Want to steal a victory just once?’ and handed over this precious item.”

So much for selling medicine—was he peddling these instead? But why?

Well, if she was curious, she could just ask.

It wasn’t like she was a stranger to the Divine Hermit. If anything, Qing could probably be called his successor. A rather ominous term, sure, but still accurate.

In that case, couldn’t she just get another pill from her master? Why bother taking the leftover one?

But before she could even think to refuse—

“Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

“Ah—yes. Goodbye.”

Do Raeman left with a crisp martial salute. His back looked completely at ease, as if a weight had been lifted.

And just like that—What the hell? His evil karma dropped by fifty points?!

Was it because he confessed to using the pill? Was that worth fifty whole points? Or was it because he gave Qing one of the pills? That earned fifty points?

Evil karma stacked up fast, but good karma? Now that was a miserly grind.

Killing an evil man only got you a single point’s worth of redemption. So to reduce your evil karma by fifty points, you’d have to kill the equivalent of five thousand points’ worth of scum.

Seriously, what was that all about?

****

Qing’s match was over. She left the tournament grounds, wandered off past the canals, and found a quiet corner near a row of snack stalls. She plopped down and started munching on some treats.

Not long after, Cheon Yuhak casually sat down on the bench opposite her.

“Oh, Master. You came.”

“Of course. Didn’t you come here just to see me?”

Cheon Yuhak always used some strange follower-tracking technique or divine sense to find her, so it was only natural he’d show up the moment she was alone.

And he did—just like that.

“You’re right. Oh—actually, that medicine you were supposedly selling—”

“Ahem. Hem, hem. Who said anything like that?”

“You can pretend, but I caught you. Someone told me they bought one. Here.”

Qing offered him the small wooden box.

Cheon Yuhak opened it and tilted his head.

“Huh? An elixir?”

“It’s called a Sleepfire Pill, apparently? They said you gave it to them.”

“Ah, Sleepfire Pills. Yeah, those—I’ve got a few made by Shin-ui. I guess I forgot to give you one. I’ll bring one later. Wait, what? Who gave you this?”

Still pretending not to know anything, huh?

Qing told him the whole story—exactly what Do Raeman had said.

Cheon Yuhak’s face turned serious.

“That’s weird. I’ve never given him one. Who the hell dared to impersonate me? ‘Steal a victory,’ huh?”

“Kinda sounds like something you’d say. It seemed convincing to me.”

“Sure, it sounds like fun. But I didn’t say it. Hm. Why didn’t I think of that line?”

He shut that down with a firm shake of his head, then paused for a second before continuing.

“You’re close with that Tang Clan girl, aren’t you? Ask her to check it out. We need to confirm whether the pills being handed out under the Divine Hermit’s name are legit.”

“And after that?”

“If they’re real, whatever—leave them be. But if they’re handing out something shady using the Divine Hermit’s name, then we have to recall them. You brat. You gonna act like this isn’t your problem? The Divine Hermit’s honor is on the line—how is that not your business?”

“Hehe...”

Qing couldn’t argue, so she dodged it with a cutesy laugh and switched the subject.

“Oh, Master. About the Lingering Oil Torture Training—could you do it for me tomorrow?”

“Torture training, she says. I mean, it’s not wrong, but... don’t we still have a few rest days left?”

“I’d rather do it closer to my next match to prepare better. Plus, I’m in perfect condition right now.”

“Ugh. Just because you’re fine doesn’t mean I am. Guess I’ll be pulling another all-nighter. Raising one disciple is pure suffering. And are you sure you’re fine? Your eyes are already trembling.”

“It won’t hurt more because of the Awakened Core Technique, right?”

Cheon Yuhak let out a dry, almost mocking laugh.

“Your skin’s senses have awakened, not your tendons and joints. It’s going to hurt just the same.”

“Can’t you at least pretend it won’t? Even as a white lie?”

“What good would that do? You’d only end up resenting me. But the fact that you’re asking for it first—what a wicked little thing you are.”

It was her own training. She couldn’t back out just because it hurt. Her body was fine, so trembling and delaying it wouldn’t help.

When had training ever not hurt?

Becoming stronger by pushing through pain—that was the whole point. Even back in her hometown, athletes followed the same principle.

The problem was that this particular pain was so far beyond normal it crossed into something resembling medieval torture.

Besides, Cheon Yuhak ended up completely drained by the process too. So it wasn’t right for a disciple to avoid it just because it hurt a little.

And more than anything—what kind of master would he be if he had to force a disciple who cried over a little pain?

Better to ask first and get it over with.

That was Qing’s logic.

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And truthfully... she had a bit of confidence.

She’d spent the last five days enduring pain that peeled her skin off—and adapted like a champ.

Pain was just another thing she was getting used to.