Chapter 184

As soon as we reached the top floor, the atmosphere went quiet, and all eyes immediately landed on us.

Then, as if nothing happened, the room returned to its original mood, but during that fleeting moment of silence, Qing gathered plenty of information for the Phoenix ladies.

The women exchanged glances and gauged the “rank” based on the intel they gathered.

What the hell, hiding her face.

And here I thought she was using some fancy silk. Is she a ghost or something? That fabric looks like a total luxury item.

But is that the only luxury she has? Must be lacking in confidence with that face.

Look at that body shape! Did she eat too much, spreading it all around?

Ha. With those boobs, no wonder the clothes don’t fit. And what’s up with that butt? The skirt isn’t going to fit either.

Not that I’m jealous or anything—nope, definitely not!

But hey, that outfit? The fabric’s decent, but it’s not high-end or anything.

Clearly, she doesn’t care much about her looks.

She wore a long top that reaches her knees and had her collar crossed high, so no clavicle showed. How suffocating is that just to look at?

More of a martial arts sect than a noble house, and definitely from the Taoist school among them.

And two swords? Please, she just walked in, thinking she can play the flute or something.

But hey, at least she has a decent flute, although what’s with that? Is it a flute or a dogbone?

Plus, if she’s here, wouldn’t it be nice to at least say hello instead of awkwardly looking around?

So the conclusion is that she’s just some ugly country bumpkin from a Taoist temple.

The women’s guard dropped dramatically.

If we took a snapshot of each scene with Qing, we might find it pretty entertaining.

All eyes temporarily focused on Qing, only to shift back to the few women who had already settled in the room.

And those women locked eyes, slyly reading each other’s expressions.

Those women were the leaders of their factions, the bidding matriarchs.

This was the bidding process for them.

Who’s gonna take that bumpkin?

She doesn’t look special. Count me out.

She seems like an amateur warrior.

Taking her would be pointless—she’s clueless and offers no benefits. Ugh, what a washout.

No one bothered to ask who she was first, which meant she failed to make an appealing entrance, leaving no one reaching out for her.

So, she had two choices as a woman, and one as a warrior.

If Qing were a socially adept woman, she would have approached the desired faction’s matriarch, introduced herself, and smiled as if saying, “I want to be friends.”

Or, she could slump her shoulders, realizing the Phoenix Association really bombed her debut, and just head over to the rejected candidates’ seats.

(The Phoenix Association gatherings always had a “losers’ corner” where things were pretty gloomy.)

And for a warrior? Well, they’d be clueless about women’s skirmishes or just uninterested and head to the designated “female warrior zone.”

That zone was where women who had no interest in complicated bidding gathered—basically, female warriors more aligned with men.

Would Qing even be aware of this complicated backstory?

She thought, “Someone mentioned Young Lady Gongson might be here,” and took a slow sweep around, feeling quite simply.

Wow, everyone is dressed so extravagantly!

Just then, Tang Nan-ah climbed the stairs.

“Hey, Qing-Ah! I said wait a sec, but you went up already! Here, let me drape this silk over you; it’s my favorite, after all—it’s pure silk!”

Tang Nan-ah proudly draped the fabric across Qing’s arms, making a show of it.

The fabric was wide and long, typically draped over the shoulders, hanging down the back and sides. It was the kind of long cloth seen in fairy paintings.

“I don’t even get why we wear this. Isn’t it just uncomfortable? You can’t even lower your arms when wearing it!”

With the fabric on, your arms end up in this awkward noodle-throwing posture, or else it drags on the ground.

“Well, it’s pretty, that’s why! Oh, it’s so pretty.”

Just then, an air of tension returned to the room.

Isn’t that the ‘Poison Hua’? That’s totally her!

Wow, fancy seeing you here! That brat who was holed up in Sichuan is finally out in the open; what gives?

Poison Hua is offering her belongings? Looks like she messed up with poison again!

Tang Nan-ah slyly shot glances around, aiming for the faction leaders. Everyone exchanged smirks while hiding their laughter.

Isn’t this a servant trick? The great Tang Nan-ah is sticking to this plain Jane?

And that girl seems completely clueless about it. What’s the point of dragging someone who knows nothing?

Just then, a tiny voice called out like a screeching bird.

“Sister! Sister Qing!”

“Oh? Hyang? Is that you? What are you doing here?”

Qing swooped down and spun around with Jiegal Hyang in her arms.

The seven-year-old lady laughed happily, her giggles ringing like a sweet chime.

“Oh, Sister Qing! Have you seen my brother? It’s been ages, and he didn’t even come to play with me. That’s just mean!”

Your brother is over there, hanging with the men. Today, he’ll likely head home, so just ask him later to play more!”

“Hehe, okay!”

As Qing tried to set the child down, Jiegal Hyang wouldn’t let go, wrapping her arms tightly around Qing’s neck.

Qing chuckled and pulled her back into her embrace.

That sight raised the women’s vigilance again.

Who knew that the adorable Jiegal girl wasn’t just anyone?

In the middle of it all, a beautiful lady smiled widely.

“Hey, Hua, the new Phoenix member is here! Aren’t you going to introduce her?”

When Qing looked at that woman, she swallowed hard. Whoa, what is she wearing?

Her outfit was drastically eye-catching.

Known as the “Pak Tunno,” it combined thin, transparent, and revealing fabrics. She wore a belt right below her ribs, lifting her chest, draped in a long skirt. On top, she threw on a sheer fabric vest, completing the whole “Pak Tunno” look.

Many poets were inspired by this desirable outfit, penning famous lines about it:

“The front flowers are surrounded by white snow,” or, “Her exposed chest shines like the bright sky,” or, “The revealed chest glimmers like the sky’s reflection.”

Every phrase links the chest to eyes or skin’s beauty—so it’s not really plagiarizing; it’s just that her porcelain skin makes her stunning.

How much skin someone shows depends on their confidence, wealth, and power level. The higher they are, the more skin they flaunt.

And the confidence the lady had was dangerously high.

Qing struggled to steady her wandering gaze and said, “Ah, well! Hello, everyone! I’m Seomun Qing, a disciple of the Divine Maiden Sect. I lack in many ways but have studied under Seomun Sulin.”

“Great Lady!” “Best Female Martial Artist!” “Great Lady!”

This call was unisex.

And this sharp chorus had a rhythm to it, echoing like a chant, and it seemed they only had to shout together, with their meaning slightly varying—this is something I might try one day instead of just standing around like an idiot.

Qing promised herself this.

And that opportunity soon emerged.