Chapter 13

A-Qing was in shock.

Her goodwill had vanished like a puff of smoke.

Having gone through all that trouble, did the prince feel like turning into smoke himself upon seeing the pitch-black mermaid?

“Wow, what’s up with our little brat? When you’re hungry, you’re this sweet older sister buying food, but now that you’re full, you’re ugly? Aaargh?”

“… Tsk. Older sister? You’re funny.”

“I’m sorry, Great Hero. She wasn’t like this before; she’s been a bit off since last year. I have no idea why. Sigh.”

Last year? That would mean fifteen. Second year of middle school.

A-Qing totally got it.

Ah, puberty—can’t argue with that.

But her mother had some pent-up feelings.

“Suddenly, she just stopped listening. If she’s not listening, that’s lucky, but she always does exactly what she shouldn’t. Well, I guess it makes sense she’d be mad at her mother. She couldn’t even give her child a healthy body to inherit…”

“Ah! Stop saying nonsense! Seriously annoying!”

Jin Jangmyung shouted and stormed up the stairs.

Thanks to that, A-Qing was left alone with her mother who had a wounded heart.

“Um… Would you like a drink?”

“If you insist, just one…”

“Ugh, you must be having a tough time.”

“Tough? Why would it be tough? It’s just that a poor child looks miserable because her mother’s not doing well. I can’t even do ordinary things. Even that fails.”

Yang Sowol raised her glass with a sad expression.

With a familiar motion, she bent backward to drink and then dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief.

Yang Sowol lowered her voice and spoke firmly.

“Um, Great Hero.”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. The drink is poisoned.”

“Excuse me?”

Yang Sowol subtly revealed the handkerchief.

She pretended to drink but spat out the alcohol, soaking the cloth.

A-Qing looked back and forth between the handkerchief and the glass and then gulped down the drink.

“Great Hero!? What’s happening!?”

“Ugh. This is amazing. Oh no, it’s sticking to my mouth.”

A gentle spiciness rose as an aftertaste.

Even though my mouth felt numbed, the fiery heat was clear and burning.

The numbing taste was spiciness!

Combined, it became “mala flavor!”

The beloved taste of the Han people.

A flavor enjoyed by ancestors since ancient times.

It was even the flavor depicted on the watermelon, a symbol of tradition.

This wasn’t… the intended flavor?

I thought since it’s a well-known mala place, the drink would match the mala theme.

This place didn’t serve good mala!

“Thanks to my constitution, it’s fine.”

When creating my character, A-Qing was made based on recommendations.

Allocating ability points, choosing fate.

And then selecting a constitution.

The constitution A-Qing chose was the Blood Poison Body.

A-Qing didn’t realize it, but the AI of the Martial World Survival Game actively used poisons, and the UI was also annoyingly inconvenient.

With unnecessary antidotes exceeding ten types, they were pricey, and there were only four quick slots. Being poisoned was frustrating beyond belief!

The Blood Poison Body granted immunity to all poisons.

That’s why they stubbornly recommended it over more advantageous options like Heavenly Body or Natural Body.

So, A-Qing was free from poisoning.

The secret to surviving in the Martial World that year was scavenging on herbs and mushrooms, living off food waste.

A-Qing’s survival was the result of the dedicated old school players from the Martial World Survival Game community, who worked hard for newbies like her.

The miracle of A-Qing reading and writing, and being able to communicate with the locals, was the greatness of the Hangul patch.

They just wished the game they loved would thrive, hoping more people could enjoy it!

That goodwill kept A-Qing alive!

A-Qing suddenly felt a shiver up her spine.

Damn, I’ll get back at the bastard who recommended this game. Seriously.

A-Qing sprang up from her seat.

Now was the perfect time to smash someone’s face in.

Having a target and a justification? What a joyful circumstance.

“Jeomsoi!”

“Ah, guest! Coming right up!”

Jeomsoi dashed out with a cheerful expression.

A wealthy guest was her delight.

But it was short-lived.

Jeomsoi’s face filled with sadness.

Anyone would feel down when the blade touched just beneath their neck.

“How dare you poison my drink? You’re done for today. When you make it to hell, just let your parents know you were messing around with my drink and got bumped off early.”

A-Qing’s voice was low.

“Oh dear guest! I didn’t do it!”

“You didn’t? Then who did?”

“Uh, that is…”

A-Qing scrutinized Jeomsoi’s karma.

The number was 42. Sadly, just good deeds.

What on earth? How come Jeomsoi has such high good deeds?

Did she feed the local beggars?

A-Qing was generous towards the virtuous.

“Alright. I’ll believe you when you say you didn’t do it. So who gave the order?”

“Oh dear, that’s…”

“Did the drink suddenly turn into poison out of boredom? Or did the person who made the drink sell it spiked with poison just for kicks?”

Jeomsoi glanced around nervously.

A-Qing threw her the carrot.

“You know, Jeomsoi, you have a really pleasant vibe. So I want to trust you. So there must be someone who ordered it?”

Of course, Jeomsoi didn’t have a dirty vibe.

Sometimes, sure, but that was just a spoiled son from the tavern mad about unfair labor.

“P-please spare me! I’m just…”

“Ugh, I’m so mad! When I get angry, my hands shake! What if that innocent neck of yours gets chopped off?”

“Please, please let me go!”

“No way, no way! I’m not letting you go. Hurry up and spill.”

Jeomsoi whimpered.

A-Qing didn’t want to witness the hot tears of a middle-aged man.

“DIE! You good-for-nothing dogs messing with food! My Moonlight Sword is starving!”

A-Qing stepped forward and launched herself.

To some lowlives in a corner of the tavern, where shabby dumplings were carelessly laid out.

One head soared into the sky, blood spraying like a fountain.

A-Qing grinned at the warm feeling soaking her body, continuing her assault on the culprit behind the drink.

As typical of scoundrels, their skills were atrocious.

Three corpses and one almost-corpse were left behind.

A man, holding his stomach and spitting blood, managed to say,

“How did you know…?”

“Well, everyone was watching with excitement, but you guys were the only ones sneaking glances!”

The man, looking utterly dumbfounded, asked back.

“That’s it? What were you trying to do…”

“Well, whether or not it was the case, you were saying you’d be dead anyway. You guys did plenty of bad stuff, right? If I hit you, it’s a success. If it’s not, it’s just garbage disposal.”

They were scoundrels with bad karma piled high.

Whether they liked it or not, treating them as good citizens would be absurd.

A-Qing was in a win-win situation.

“So, what’s the poison I drank?”

“Ha, you think I’d tell you? We’ve gone this far!”

“Fine, fine.”

I just asked because it tasted good, but if you don’t want to share, that’s fine.

Goodbye, my mala sauce.

A-Qing didn’t really expect an answer.

If I die, it’ll eventually come out, right?

A-Qing raised her sword.

“If they ask in the afterlife why you came, just say…”

“I’m here to eat your mother!”

He was dying, yet full of venom.

A-Qing sighed and swung her Moonlight Sword (No. 6).

“Gag? Guh—guh…”

Avoiding the arteries and sharply cutting the windpipe, a person couldn’t speak.

The man clutched his neck, then his guts spilled out, and he clutched his belly again, realizing that humans have two hands for a reason.

“See? He said our mom. Let him die. If you touch him, we’ll have a friendly little knife fight.”

A-Qing looked around, not even hiding her bright smile as she threatened them.

But something felt off.

What’s going on? Why does everyone’s karma seem so twisted?

Could this be a tavern for bad guys to gather?

If I set it ablaze, that’d help with good deeds in no time.

But A-Qing wasn’t the sort to just randomly go after bad people, yelling that evil must be purged.

She merely thought anything was fair game against villains.

First things first.

A-Qing hummed a tune as she rummaged through the corpses.

Since they were munching on dumplings, they were practically full of fluff.

Instead, some odds and ends came out.

A few little pots, bags of powder, etc.

Thus, A-Qing returned to her seat, filled with excitement, and met the trembling gaze of Yang Sowol.

A-Qing suddenly realized her mistake. Oops.

“Jeomsoi, can you bring some wash water over here?”

It felt good to be covered in blood.

It was common sense, but some poor souls actually feared blood.

But wouldn’t soup help conquer that fear?

Is there even soup in the Martial World?

I want some soup.

With a natural flow of consciousness, A-Qing licked her lips.

Pouring out some wine for today’s accomplishments, she raised a glass.

Celebrating another hit with a drink.

Watching an evil one slowly breathing his last, sipping again.

With good snacks, the alcohol flowed smoothly.

—

Yang Sowol was in a stupor.

Truth be told, female martial artists were rare in the Martial World.

If you exclude those pretty ones wielding nice weapons donned in fancy outfits out for a stroll, that’s pretty much it.

Actually going to the Martial World was something no woman could bear doing more than twice—it was a harsh ordeal.

They called it a warrior to be nice; in reality, they were but a ronin.

Just wandering about outside is a good enough situation for them.

Eating, sleeping, relieving themselves, and simply breathing was, in a way, a disgrace for a woman.

Women from famous families could travel in style, with servants and carriages.

Some daughters of noble families enjoyed pretending to be warriors too.

But those poor women without money or backing were mocked for playing at the Martial World.

Yang Sowol came from the Divine Maiden Sect and despised such women pretending to do martial arts.

That’s why she felt a fondness for A-Qing.

For being kind to her child, she was quite grateful as a mother.

True female martial artists were rather rough around the edges.

Joking around with men was asking to be looked down upon.

Being looked down upon in the Martial World was like half-giving up your life.

Yet there was a limit to how rough one could be.

At this rate, she’d just become a lunatic.

Watching A-Qing wash up with a basin, Yang Sowol made a resolution.

I must not get involved with this child.

But that resolution wouldn’t last a day.