Chapter 422

If you were to ask whether we need to spare some dignity for a villain from the Sapa, most Orthodox Warriors would probably say no.

But what if you ask, is it acceptable for a villain to die from being hit by a pig’s feet?

Everyone would make a face, saying that’s a bit much, isn’t it? They’d rather die by a fist than face such a brutal end.

After all, it’s the worst way to make a joke out of death.

To die by being hit with pig’s feet, especially when it’s from a seasoned warrior who’s the head of a clan?

What would they say at the funeral, and how would the survivors vow for revenge?

“I will avenge our leader who died from pig’s feet!”

“I will eliminate the vile enemy who swung the pig’s feet at our leader!”

“That pig’s feet will be smashed before my sword!”

Thus, Lee Wang-chul found himself in a major crisis, a huge challenge that no warrior—or even humanity—had faced before. (Though the apes might find similar crises more common.)

In the face of such a crisis, some might crumble while others grit their teeth and push through.

Lee Wang-chul is undoubtedly the latter.

You’d expect that from a leader of a clan.

The moment a clean pig’s leg bone reflects in his eye, stripped of every piece of flesh, his potential bursts forth.

The desperation to not die from being hit by a pig’s feet sparks a miracle.

Even as the wooden floor breaks and his footing wobbles, Lee Wang-chul musters all his strength for one step—

Yes! Just a single step.

In that instant, all the muscles in his body, the tendons propelling that muscle, the bones strapped to those tendons, and the joints connecting those bones, all unite for one singular purpose.

It was a magnificent and harmonious chorus.

Too much is worse than too little.

The extraordinary balance of strength, with the big muscles pulling the bones and joints, acts as a noble sacrifice, yielding position to the lesser muscles.

Thus, the tiny muscles, suddenly bursting forth with more than their strength, stabilize his unsteady body.

And so, just a single step.

Not rushed, but gracefully and naturally retreating.

The round joint of the descending pig’s feet brushes past his nose.

So close, it grazes without allowing even a strand of hair to escape, before slicing through the air below.

A little retreat, just one tiny step backwards.

But for Lee Wang-chul, it represented a monumental leap.

In that moment, a great realization dawns.

True strength doesn’t just impose and shove.

It’s about how big and small all parts move in their own roles, each bone, each muscle, coming together as one to operate the body seamlessly.

The cumbersome qi, held forcefully within me,

is what we call “Jing,” the energy housed within a person.

The skills I’ve memorized,

are what we refer to as “Qi,” the principles that manifest in form.

The knowledge I thought I grasped through secret techniques and principles,

is what we call “Shen,” the power housed in one’s mind.

The boundaries of the three—your qi, your mind, and the ‘knowing’ of your body—merge into one complete whole. Therefore, true understanding, which the martial artists call perfect understanding, is a harmonious alignment of qi, technique, and comprehension.

The realm of harmony, that is the Realm of Transformation!

The warrior who has transcended himself achieves the dramatic moment of becoming truly whole.

Sudden enlightenment strikes.

And just like that, the pig’s feet returns once more.

Wham!

In one blow, his head clears.

The great warrior’s brain breaks free from the shackles of his physical form and experiences freedom for the very first time.

It was a moment where the enlightenment reached through the pig’s feet flew away with the pig’s feet, illustrating the virtue of finishing what you’ve started, “You start, you finish.”

“Eh. What’s going on? Why is everyone so still?”

Qing, in a daze, lets his arm holding the pig’s feet drop.

What trickles down like red isn’t fresh blood.

He hadn’t even thought he could evade the attack, and through some miraculous movement, he smoothly slips away.

But, what now? He’s standing there, eyes glazed, staring blankly into space.

He didn’t even muster a defensive reaction, so he ended up getting his head smashed in one blow.

What? What, anyhow.

It seems unlikely the one with a busted brain will recover, so there’s not much point in getting curious.

Thus, instead of ruminating on why Qing, the leader, plunged into a state akin to fainting, he raised his voice triumphantly.

“Commander! We defeated them!”

The Salwold Sect warriors suddenly snapped back to reality.

“Lord!”

The young members of Hwa Ryong Jo also regained their senses.

“Let’s eliminate the villains!”

But why do people shout so loudly after defeating a commander?

To a person, the presence or absence of a head signifies life or death, just as it does for a group.

Since the leader’s head has been smashed, the fervor of Hwa Ryong Jo’s young blood surges to the sky with an explosive intensity.

Grabbing their weapons and charging forth, the young warriors feel the liberation of truly becoming righteous heroes, reveling in slaying the evil, basking in their confidence.

However, the warriors of the Salwold Sect had already been scared stiff by witnessing their leader’s skull crack open from a pig’s feet.

An insidious method that even mocks the death of a human!

Of course, Qing didn’t harbor such a vile and malicious intent.

It was just that it was hurried, and she happened to be holding the long piece.

Whether for slicing meat nicely or because she was just inexperienced, the meat was glued to the bone as if it had been transformed into a wooden stick.

The meat sticking to the bone is always delicious!

Qing was gleefully tearing into it until it shone with satisfaction, and in such a desperate moment, how convenient it was to wield that long heavy thing.

If left alone, a quarrel might break out with the Cute Young Lady.

Then, since the martial world’s way begins with words and ends in blood, if a fight is inevitable, it’s better to smash the head first.

That way, she can be protected, and the damage to the people of our righteous faction, the members of Hwa Ryong Jo, can also be minimized.

And so it happened.

The warriors of the Salwold Sect fled without even properly brandishing their swords.

They heard crashing sounds as they rushed down the steps, with cries of pain and the splintering of railings echoing behind them.

The experienced leaders of the Salwold Sect, well versed in the ways of banditry, showcase their skillful escape.

In tight hallways and narrow staircases, they didn’t tangle up but pierced through the sliding doors and into another special room, then dashed through more doors and leaped off the railing without hesitation.

The square-shaped Jin Hae-ru was designed to be a military structure of the Central Plain, but it still maintained the primitive and uncivilized levels of the ancient world with a narrower top and wider bottom. They spread their tiles out for a swift retreat to the ground.

Yet, they were cruel brothers, throwing their younger ones as bait while they escaped.

Of course, “Argh, bros! I won’t forget your sacrifice!”

The faces of the fleeing leaders were filled with visions of honor, where they yell, “Brothers! I’ll hold them back! You all retreat!” even while recalling their sacrifices.

In this moment, the greatest victims are neither Lee Wang-chul, who died from being hit by a pig’s feet, nor the leaders of the Salwold Sect who lost their prized subordinates. Nor do the fast-thinking escapees who stumbled and broke their bodies while managing to survive.

Lee Wang-chul, after all, glimpsed the great realm of a warrior, the Realm of Transformation, just before his demise.

And the ones who have already died are not victims anymore, but one might say are merely deceased corpses.

The fleeing leaders, including Wang Woo, at least saved their lives and escaped from the cruel pig’s feet attack of the Cheonhwa-geom.

Regardless of how badly they stumbled down the stairs, sufferings aside, the warriors of the Salwold Sect had managed to keep their lives.

But what about the remnants of the Salwold Sect who were searching around in other rooms, yelling at the innocent special guests?

They found the stairway blocked, leaving them with no escape, and way before that, were already at a loss.

So, the righteous young men from the Orthodox faction charged in with a howl, repeatedly yelling, “Die! You trash from the Sapa!” and before they knew it, they collapsed without even getting a chance to flee.

The most unfair part? The reactions of the special guests cheering them on.

“Of course! We believed in you!”

Such overwhelming gratitude and appreciation!

“Thanks to you, we’ve managed to dodge a great humiliation!”

“The righteous faction is the best, we love you!”, expressing how all great matters are handled by the righteous faction.

“We recognize you, Shaolin Temple, the Martial Alliance!”

The cries from the dying bandits sounded like bloody tears.

We’re pretty much the same, living by stabbing people, you know…

And those bandits who were joyfully kicking and battering a woman also faced similar fates.

To be precise, they met an even more tragic end.

Another addition to the pile of those dead from pig’s feet.

“Bastards, thronging in to beat a woman. All bark, no bite, right? Are you okay, Young Lady?”

The woman, curled up and guarding her head, slowly turns her gaze up towards Qing lying on the ground.

With a blank expression, her eyes devoid of emotion, as if to say, was there something going on?

“Thank you. May I know the name of the great hero who saved Lang-lang?”

“Call me Seomun Qing.”

“Seomun Qing? Then, is it true that you’re the Seomun Qing of the Cheonhwa-geom, who has three or five heads?”

“Well, what do you mean by ‘that’ Cheonhwa-geom?”

“They say it’s a monster with three or five heads. However, I, Lang-lang, realized my mistake. It’s not a monster with multiple heads but a beautiful woman with a bosom the size of a head. It’s a clever metaphor. Truly, I have learned.”

“That’s quite a confusing thing to say.”

“I apologize. May I ask what made you feel offended? Is it that you prefer the expression ‘odour’ which is rarely heard?”

“No, what’s with the ‘odour’….”

“If we infer from the analogy referring to substantial mass as ‘odour’, could it be that ‘odour’ means the buttocks, particularly one cheek? But, I find that hard to grasp as the Cheonhwa-geom’s backside is greater than the volume of her head.”

“Lady, what kind of person even says such things?”

At this point, Qing cocks her head to the side.

It seemed like she was getting smashed around like crazy.

Yet, considering how composed she is, she appears relatively unhurt?

“Are you alright? Is there anywhere that hurts?”

“If you’re asking whether my life is in danger or if I have any physical disabilities, or whether I can move, Lang-lang is fine. But the pain is severe.”

Hmm. She appears to be quite odd.

I feel the need to create some distance from the way she refers to herself.

“Lady? Can you get up?”

“I can. But I, Lang-lang, would prefer to lay here for a while longer.”

“Ah. Sure, then. Take your time.”

With a sour expression, Qing looks around and then gazes at the motionless lady, probably named Lang-lang, who is crawling around gracefully without a hint of worry.

What is she aiming for? Suddenly, she reaches out, snatches a fallen roast pigeon, and pulls it to her chest, munching down on it.

Her expression is blank, so I can’t tell if it tastes good, but judging by the increasing speed of her chewing, she probably enjoys it.

Above her head, the number of Westerners lay sprawled out in blue, numbering one, while beside her, the Central Plain marked with one.

Merit, one point.

She doesn’t seem like a bad person.

Well, considering she’s in the mood to enjoy a meal, she seems alright after all.

---