Chapter 548

Skinny and chubby, huh? In some ways, they make a perfect pair. But if we average them out, they’re still severely overweight.

From the perspective of being crushed under Pobidon’s belly, I’d say you need at least five more skinny folks to make it average.

Qing decides to play dumb for now.

The fundamental goal of the Demonic Arts seekers is to acquire the Heart Consumption Technique, so unlike those enemies from the Blood Sect, it’s not a life-or-death situation right now.

They just want to capture someone to dig for Divine Skills, so while they might get a dirty show if caught, at least they’re not lunging at each other with murder in their eyes.

“Crazy! How should I convince you I don’t have it? Should I stake my clan, my master, my honor, and toss in my grandfather’s honor for good measure?”

“The Central Plain is a dirty world sanctioned by Buddha, a land of fallen beings doomed to hellfire! Women are filthy creatures; no matter how they sound, they are the true devotees who aren’t swayed!”

The “dirty world” here refers to what Buddhism calls the ‘Five Dusty Realms,’ also known as the Saha world—this world we live in.

The opposite is the Pure Land, which corresponds to heaven, a higher realm of rewards.

By the way, in Buddhism, women are considered impure and filthy, so the Pure Land is said to have only men, hence it being likened to a “field of cucumbers.”

It’s not that women can’t go there; they can also be reborn as men. And there are quite a few different layers in the Pure Land, so there are exceptions.

Anyway, then there’s no reason to build up virtue just to be reborn in the Pure Land—that would be a limitation of Buddhism itself.

After all, our neighbors entice us with promises of seventy beautiful maidens in heaven while they send their suicide bombers flying over here.

If you’re born a man, either way, death is an unavoidable fate. You gamble on meeting those maidens; even if you die fooled, it’s not really a loss—this is the shining logic of our neighbors’ devotees.

But here we have A-mook-hap-rab, who acts like a Buddhist.

Is this world a Dirty Realm? Yes.

Are women filthy beings? Yes.

Qing can’t believe it.

“What? If you can’t trust anything I say, what do you want me to do?”

“I’ll go with you to the Holy Mountain! You, the bitch of the Central Plain, right now is a chance to leave and attain Nirvana without cost! Rebirth as a true nun by following the Eightfold Path through my teachings! Then you’ll earn the priceless trust from yourself!”

Becoming a nun, and a nun of the Westland at that—absurd.

“Hey, I’m also a Daoist! Although there are no thieves among us, I’m still somewhat of a Daoist. What do you mean by leaving? And what about your Holy Mountain? It’s not even that thing over there. You’re moving the Holy Mountain away from the perfectly intact Sumi Mountain? Isn’t that more than a bit cultish?”

The Holy Mountain referred to in the Westland is actually the Kangin Phase Peak, located at the base of the Himalayan mountains, known as Qing’s hometown.

The name is derived from the Tianzhu region, and foreign traders also refer to it as Kailash.

“Oh? You know about Kangin Phase Peak? I’m starting to trust you a little because you’re a Central Plain woman. It’s a rare chance to freely leave and seek the Buddha!”

Sounds like they thought I was going to leap into the deep end, thinking I wouldn’t know.

Of course, their assumption that I wouldn’t know about Qing’s ignorance was not wrong.

However, ignorance doesn’t last long in the face of knowledge, especially when it comes to matters of survival.

“I, the renowned expert, tell you there’s no chance of victory for you, woman of the Central Plain! You should just throw yourself into the arms of the Buddha!”

“There are times when the deck is short, and sometimes it’s long. Just because your mastery is high doesn’t mean you’ll win!”

The rural village head. The story of Gou Yuan. The glimpse of Qing, who thrived on learning, likely leaving Cheon Yu-hak nodding in approval.

But.

“Deck? Village? What weird talk! Speak the Central Plain language, Central Plain girl!”

“What? Why am I getting mad? Am I really being told to use the Central Plain dialect by that guy?”

“Yes, indeed. It’s also a good opportunity for you, woman; the Buddha has opened wide his arms. It’s a rare opportunity to offer Divine Skills to the Buddha!”

“Divine Skills? Those guys only want the Demonic Arts, and they keep yapping about Divine Skills and Heart Consumption Technique—this is clearly obvious—”

Suddenly, Qing knelt down and dropped her body.

A giant mass of Pobidon above her sliced through the air.

As she lay down, Qing swiftly grabbed his chubby ankle, and with a fierce grunt, her muscles surged!

Is this around four hundred pounds?

How is it that a person’s weight becomes four hundred pounds?

Qing spun that ignorant mass that was Pobidon around, slamming against walls left and right—the walls shook!

As the body of the human turned forward like a destruction whirlwind, its speed was fierce, and its power unparalleled—this was truly the swirling force of Seomun Qing!

No matter how much she exerted a thousand pounds of strength, the discrepancy in mass between them made it difficult to stabilize her body.

But still, she moved quickly, rushing forward, turning Pobidon into a human wrecking ball smashing through brick walls at night!

“Gah! Ugh, stop, stop! Ugh!”

Pobidon felt the blood rushing to his head—he was dying.

In truth, if a warrior of this caliber faced being spun around by an ankle, there would be no need to struggle at all.

Just bend at the waist and strike back; after all, Qing was just a human toilet—no, a human weapon used by those of the second or third class, maybe?

But Pobidon?

The thickest part of his body was his waist, groaning as he struggled to bend his spine.

It’s a situation worth investigating whether the rumors about his inability to clean up after himself are true.

“O, don’t come any closer!”

A-mook-hap-rab, now terrified, steps back.

Yet Qing accelerates even more.

With two spins per breath, the rotational speed meant it was easier to balance her body, as a higher number of spins tends to stabilize the center axis.

But that also means adding load to the axis, forcing Qing to flex her muscles in real-time, gritting her teeth.

“Madness! You massive, blubbery pig! You stinking pig! Such a useless pile of flab! Even the Buddha would ask you to be butchered! ###! ####! ## ## #### ######! ### ## #### ## ##### #######!”

A-mook-hap-rab unleashes a barrage of curses toward Pobidon as she retreats.

In Qing’s automatic translation, it raises suspicions about whether Pobidon’s parents were truly human. Judging by his shape, they likely loved animals excessively, resulting in him, while their sins burn them in hell.

If Pobidon heard this, he’d surely want a life-or-death match, but since he didn’t understand the Westland dialect anyway, even if he did, the pressure of the spinning would make it impossible for him to pay attention to anything else.

Boom!

The walls on either side exploded as the giant disaster rushed from the alleyway!

“Ahhh! Aahhh! Run away!” The common folks screamed, and Qing grimaced in response.

And with the might of the Heavenly Demon’s charge, she stamped her feet on the ground, adding that force to her spinning speed.

Pobidon, reaching the maximum speed on land and for people on this earth, flew like a cannonball—thud! He collided with A-mook-hap-rab and crashed against the poor luxurious manor wall!

They burst through the thick outer wall.

Qing staggered, thinking, wow, did I spin too much?

Visitors in the night street stared at the blood-soaked woman in shock. And among them were warriors.

“Cheonhwa-geom! That’s the Heart Consumption Technique!”

“Divine Skills! The Divine Skills are right there!”

Even after saying there was nothing dozens of times, those annoying little brats just wouldn’t listen.

Once a person gets caught up in a situation, normal reasoning becomes impossible, and trust veers dangerously close to faith. And in this more developed world, even in Qing’s hometown, some dim-witted folks insist the Earth is flat, believing as they watch it gliding by—a dead giveaway, isn’t it?

So what do you think it’s like in the uncivilized Central Plain?

And those waiting for Qing in Hangzhou—well, they were all kind of like those brats.

“Seriously, this is crazy!”

I’d rather deal with those fools from three-headed giant land; at least they could still be seen as humans, right?

These fools keep insisting the Divine Skills are right here; enough with the pleading already!

Qing’s phantom figure split into eight, swirling around.

The Nengpa Mibo technique is a formation that draws a straight line to the target and then positions itself at a point behind them, using footwork to maintain the formation.

If there’s one person between two targets, and the distance is more than three steps?

Qing’s translucent figure leaps over an unknown visitor, appearing right in front of the guy who’s shouting about the Heart Consumption Technique!

Her hand punctures through his belly.

“Here’s the Divine Skills—cough!”

“Do you think you can fight with that? You, an idiot, are running around with a sword!”

Qing didn’t hide her disdain.

If you covet the Divine Skills, at least act like a warrior and jump in; don’t just stand back yelling to gather people.

It’s obvious why he’s doing it—he lacks the guts to act and wants to gather others to watch from a distance to find an opening.

Qing roughly pulls out what’s inside and yanks out the sword from the guy’s waist.

It’s awkwardly heavy and rough, and even if I’d say it’s a good sword, it’s too heavy and sturdy for my liking, preferring Mahee’s lighter blades instead.

“Alright! Human Divine Skills are on the way! If you’ve got complaints, come at me! Let’s settle this with a life-or-death match like proper warriors!”

Having boasted boldly, Qing quickly activated her light skill and charged forward.

The target? Another loudmouth.

Seeing Qing rushing toward him ferociously, the loudmouth turned pale and bolted in terror.

“Wha? What’s happening? Why, why this!?”

“The Divine Skills you were searching for—their owner is now coming for you!”

“No, no misunderstanding! I have no interest in the Demonic Arts at all!”

“Funny! You were shouting about the Heart Consumption Technique being right here. If you’re going to speak up, you better be ready to take responsibility!”

“I’m just! Just! So, uh—”

“Shut it! You thought you could gather a crowd and find an opening, huh? Handle your business yourself! If you can’t do it, then give up, you coward!”

“No, that’s what you should be saying—”

“Pointless dialogue!”

“You’ve just talked nonsensically—”

“Stop it, you rat! So damn chatty!”

Qing’s speed was the illustrious best, praised by experts far and wide.

That pathetic loudmouth’s speed couldn’t possibly shake her off, and with a scream, a wave of Sword Aura sliced through the air, splattering blood.

“Cough! S-save me…”

“Remember this: the wound on your back is a warrior’s shame. You should be embarrassed.”

As Qing coldly looked down at the fallen loudmouth.

Then suddenly, the sound of a flute caught her attention, and she whipped her head around, her eyes narrowing fiercely—who dares to play the flute now?

But that’s just for a moment.

All around the alley, emerging from behind walls, over rooftops, and through alleys, figures of warriors brandishing their weapons started appearing one by one—some looked like they had just woken up in their pajamas, others awkwardly holding their spears, and even a few staggering around holding wine bottles.

Qing’s expression distorted furiously.

What in the world is the Demonic Arts that’s making these countless people raise such a ruckus in the middle of the night?