If I drift off in a well-heated room, snuggled up on an expensive bed, I’m out cold—I’m not just sleeping, I’m pretty much in a coma.
But if I close my eyes on a cold, noisy, hard stone ground, my sleep is as shallow as a puddle after it rains.
I can’t tell if I’m actually sleeping or just stuck in a half-zoned-out state.
When I close my eyes, I’m just huddling in a ball.
It’s cold. It’s damp. Only the spots where the sun shines are warm.
I thought I had a nice dream.
Meeting a great master, making good friends, living the high life, wearing nice clothes, stuffing my face with delicious food—what a dream!
Hmm. Was it a dream?
Qing slowly opened her bleary eyes for a reality check.
The topsy-turvy world spun around her, with passersby shaking their heads as if they’d seen something shocking.
She closed her eyes again.
Ah. It was all a dream.
Of course, nice things wouldn’t happen in this miserable medieval China.
My stomach’s growling like it’s about to tear itself apart. Just one little rat, please! I wanna eat some meat.
Or head over to Pingchan Cheong… Wait, those bastards said they’re not giving out pork anymore, right?
Ugh. I don’t want to move.
One year into this life, and Qing typically doesn’t budge.
What’s the point? Moving just makes my stomach growl more, and nothing nutritious happens.
If I go out, I might just get a beating from beggars.
Whenever I’m about to collapse from hunger, that’s when I try to sneak a bite of whatever’s lying around.
And then, suddenly…
Qing heard a commotion nearby.
She cracked her eyes open a little.
Through the blurry veil of fabric, she spotted two suspicious feet planted on the ground.
By rolling her eyes as much as possible, she caught sight of the waist-hunching owner of those feet.
The person was carefully moving their arms, and when she strained to focus, she nearly dropped her jaw—there it was, the familiar hilt of the Moonlight Sword!
Wait, Moonlight Sword?
In a flash, Qing’s senses jolted back to reality.
Whoa, crap! Am I back there again? And I’m witnessing a sword thief?
The term “sword thief” wasn’t one the martial world was used to.
A sword bandit, sure, that’s familiar.
Because for a warrior, their weapon is like a wife (and let’s face it, for mainstream folks, a wife is just family), so if you mess with someone’s weapon, all hell breaks loose.
A warrior’s weapon isn’t something you just steal; it’s something you can only claim over their dead body.
Qing silently kept her eyes shut, watching the scene unfold.
As the sword slowly slid out of its scabbard, the not-so-well-kept blade began to emerge.
And just as it fully came out…
“Where do you think you’re going!”
Qing sent a horizontal line of energy straight to the thief’s ankles.
Both of their ankles got caught in the air, lifting them high.
Bam!
The sword thief smacked down headfirst into the ground, curling up like a bow as their hips crashed to earth.
“Ha-ha! Trying to steal a warrior’s sword? You must be out of your mind!”
Qing jumped up and pinned the thief’s wrist under her foot, shouting.
And with her face lit up, it was like she was waiting for a long-lost love to return.
“Ah! My hand! My hand! My hand!”
“According to national law, thieves have their hands cut off. How dare you defy the sacred rule of law!”
Sacred rule of law? Both concepts of ‘sacred’ and ‘law’ were bound to tick her off, ready to curse.
Historically, ‘sacred’ had never been sacred, and ‘law’ was merely high walls erected to protect the interests of the privileged.
Seeing that the kid was ranting made Qing realize she was in a pretty good state of mind.
“Geez, these people are terrible. Instead of stopping the thief, they’re just watching.”
Qing glared at the crowd.
Through the fabric, it only looked like a blur of confusion, but…
With her words, the excited onlookers slowly shifted their gazes to the ground or sky.
Despite everything, the sword thief kept howling.
“My hand! My hand! My hand!!”
You would think they’d find a way out of this mess if it really hurt enough, but right now, the agony felt like they were about to lose a hand.
The thief struggled to grab onto the poor girl’s shoe, trying to work their way out.
Hmm? What’s this?
Qing shifted her foot, adjusting the pressure.
“My hand! My hand!!!! My hand! My hand! My hand!”
This is kinda funny.
Louder when I press down?
Qing’s mouth formed into a sadistic grin.
But just as quickly, she noticed the thief’s misdeeds and regretfully lifted her foot.
What a shame.
If only I had just three more points of pressure…
That’s when the thief finally burst into a torrential flow of tears, wrapping their arms around their injured wrist and making a sound that was a mix of sobs and moans.
Qing picked up the Moonlight Sword, standing askew as she looked down.
“Hey. What’s with crying like a baby after getting caught stealing? You know what touching a warrior’s sword means, right?”
“Ugh.”
“Everyone, did you see this loser trying to steal a sword? According to the laws of the martial world, I could kill him without guilt!”
“Right!” Someone echoed, seemingly eager to see blood.
For sure, one of the biggest spectacles in this era was the good old beheading show.
It’s not that the central plains are primitive; it’s just that worldwide, everyone loves a good execution.
You could say it’s a universal sentiment.
But if you had to pick a side, people in the central plains are more reserved, enjoying executions from a distance.
Whereas out in the west, they’re practically fighting each other for a front-row seat, diving into the pool of spurting blood.
“Alright, if you understand, stick your neck out and get in position. I’ll make it quick so it won’t hurt.”
“P-please spare me!”
“After touching a warrior’s weapon, you dare to ask for mercy? Would you show mercy to someone who touched your wife?”
“Umm, my wife left me for another man…”
“Well. Good luck then.”
The crowd fell silent for a moment.
But since Qing never intended to kill him, no matter what came out of the man’s mouth, she would’ve let him go.
Even if he was whining about a cheating wife or a parent he’d consumed in the line of duty—pausing just the right amount to deliver a melodramatic tale with ancient hints of bitterness, it wouldn’t matter.
Whatever he said was irrelevant; all he needed to know was how to move past it.
“Alright. Since it sounds like you’ve got some tragic backstory, I’ll let you live. But you better hand over everything you’ve got!”
As if on cue, the thief reluctantly removed his knapsack and money bag, placing them quietly in front of Qing.
“Can I go now…?”
“Are you kidding? Hand over everything! I’m not into checking out your skinny little flops, so just leave on your underwear! Now!”
With that, the completely unsympathetic sword thief stripped down to his birthday suit, revealing a stash of silver tucked around his ankles.
“Wait, why do you have silver hidden?! Who puts silver around their ankles?”
“Hey! Who’s tying up silver around an ankle in the first place? What a weird twist!”
The sword thief babbled on, saying the most awkward things as they tossed the silver onto the bag.
Qing couldn’t believe her ears.
“This idiot is going wild. Should I really just let him off the hook?”
Having no higher authority to temper her murderous intent, Qing lifted the sword with a murderous glint in her eyes.
“Eek!”
The sword thief sprinted, clad only in his underwear, leaving a trail of darkened ground with irregular splatters, disappearing into the distance.
“Well, that worked out.”
The onlookers shrieked and scrambled out of the way.
If a dark dude runs past while pissing himself, even the toughest master would probably back off.
Thanks to that, the sword thief vanished quickly.
Qing looked at her new prize.
“Hehe, sweet, sweet loot.”
Inside the money bag, there were just a handful of coins.
And a single silver piece that weighed about half a standard coin, maybe not even that.
All in all, it wouldn’t even add up to a whole coin, but she was over the moon about that knapsack.
It looked flimsy, soft, and nearly empty, but a bag is a bag.
Having experienced the weight of not having a bag a year prior, Qing knew that difference all too well.
But as she rummaged through, she found a dirty towel and something wrapped in an oiled leaf.
“Ooh, beef jerky.”
For jerky to taste good, it has to be premium, not just some dried fish that’s not even edible enough to chew on?
This was just ordinary, barely even edible, but if cooked long enough in a soup, it could replicate that satisfying flavor of meat.
Grrr.
Thinking of meat made her stomach protest for food, whining inside her.
“Hmm. Should I eat? Maybe I can treat myself and grab some dumpling buns with a shot of liquor.”
Honestly, it’d be better to fill up on cheap dumplings than to mess with cooking.
Timing couldn’t be better either.
Looking at the sun, it was roughly past one o’clock according to her quirky time measurement.
What? Did I seriously sleep for that long?
I didn’t feel like I slept at all.
Regardless, at a time between lunch and dinner, they usually sell food for even the charity cases.
Of course, she couldn’t eat inside, but she could sit right outside and enjoy her meal without causing a fuss.
Human nature is quite fickle and strange.
Earlier, when she thought those adventures were just a dream, she felt heavy and unmotivated to live.
Now, the thought of being a beggar felt warm and familiar.
It was easy to realize that she could escape being a beggar anytime.
Thinking it through, she could pretend to be a beggar while waiting around, then rush to make a grand entrance in the future.
Who would think of a bounty hunter acting destitute?
Qing slowly scratched her head and wandered around, looking for a decent eatery.
Too fancy, and they’d kick her out; too scrappy, and they wouldn’t even sell anything edible, so she had to be picky.
She needed a place that was just right, where the staff looked cheerful and the atmosphere seemed friendly.
Plus, it had to have a nice area to eat.
Then, she found a perfect little place.
Seollyang Banjum.
A Banjum is a step down from a fancy restaurant, more of a casual eatery.
Qing stood at the entrance, pretending to play it cool.
As the sword-wielding beggar made an appearance, the tavern employee looked tense and approached her, almost unsure.
Qing deepened her voice dramatically, ordering like a pro.
“Uh, I’ll have five dumplings. Is there no cheap but potent liquor here…?”
Beggar or not, a beggar with martial skills is a whole different deal.
And this beggar had not just one, but two swords strapped on. Plus, even her voice sounded as smooth as silk.
The tavern employee’s pride soared to the heavens at that moment.
With the elevation of her shoulders, her attitude noticeably softened.
“Where could you find cheap, potent liquor in this world?”
Potent liquor is expensive.
Because potent liquor, after all, is made by compressing weak liquor into a stronger form.
“Even just cheap liquor would do…”
“Hmm. Just one more coin, and I’ll get you something decent.”
The way she replied carried a vintage charm, a sort of mellowness about it.
When would a tavern employee even earn the right to speak like that?
All this wisdom was born from experience.
As a warrior, Qing might be a fool, but as a beggar, she carried enough wisdom to rival a sage.
She was just born to live this way.