I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 234: Even a Ronin Has the Loyalty of a Ronin (7)

Then Gyeong Damgan let out a strange laugh that almost sounded like he was sobbing.

“But hey, girlie. I heard something real strange about you. You used the Black Slaying Demonic Palm, didn’t you? A righteous martial lady mastering one of the Ten Supreme Demonic Arts of the world? Do those righteous bastards know about this?”

“Oh no. I’ve been found out. I guess once your hands turn pitch-black, there’s no hiding it, huh? Here, take a look. This is that black essence from the Black Slaying Demonic Palm.”

Qing slowly stretched out her long, pale, beautiful hand.

Those who mastered the Black Slaying Demonic Palm would see their flesh darken and harden like tree bark—black, rough, disgusting. That was the “black essence.”

So when Qing waved her delicate fingers as if showing off, it was basically her mocking him: If your eyes aren’t busted, can’t you see this is obviously not that?

“Hmph. These new generation brats... don’t even know the basics. Should’ve just claimed it was a lesser demonic art.”

Even Gyeong Damgan knew it didn’t make any damn sense.

A righteous martial lady learning a notorious demonic technique—one of the Ten Supreme Demonic Arts recognized across all of Murim? Complete bullshit.

But with so many underlings backing up the claim, he couldn’t ignore it, so he tested her... only to get thoroughly embarrassed.

“Ugh. A lesser demonic art sounds kinda gross.”

Qing flinched slightly.

Still, Gyeong Damgan didn’t even consider the lesser sects. The Lesser Demonic Faction was practically a Blood Sect subsidiary—if they took in a disciple, there’s no way he wouldn’t have known.

“Anyway, we’ll see. You’ll pay for your insolence sooner or later.”

They always say we’ll see.

Qing snorted and began preparing for another fake performance.

But then Gyeong Damgan backed away with a wheezing chuckle, like a bad joke without a punchline.

Well that was anticlimactic.

With nothing else to do, Qing crossed her legs in full lotus position and began circulating her Qi. At least she didn’t lie down whining, which meant she was finally starting to resemble a proper martial artist.

Hmm.

Her cultivation rate was crawling like a rat’s tail.

Hoping for any real breakthrough from just half a day of breathing and circulation practice? She was setting herself up for disappointment.

Not that she didn’t have a reason for slacking in internal cultivation practice.

Thanks to the fusion of Maiden’s Joy Technique and Ice Heaven Demonic Flame Art, Qing was basically in a state of perpetual cultivation—whether she was awake, asleep, eating, or pooping, her Qi circulated on its own, twelve hours a day.

Now that she thought about it, Maiden’s Joy was already at level ten, and Ice Heaven Demonic Flame had nearly maxed out at level eleven. She was close to unlocking the special stat bonus at level twelve.

Apparently the Ice Heaven Demonic Flame Qi was working harder than the Joyous Qi—probably because it had been chased around more, and the stat requirements between the golden and red lines were different enough to create a gap.

Her Blood Demon King Technique and Self-Spinning Demonic Art also leveled up twice. Minus the side effects, the Maiden’s Joy Technique had really pulled its weight.

Meanwhile, the Blood Sect guard in charge of Qing during the day shift stared at her in disbelief.

Internal cultivation was a time when a martial artist was deeply focused, fully vulnerable. For a righteous sect fighter to do that while imprisoned in a secret Blood Sect dungeon?

Either she was fearless, brainless, or just completely dismissing him. Or hell, maybe all three.

He was stunned, speechless, and—considering he was part of the Blood Sect, an organization that struck fear across the entire central plains—more than a little insulted.

In fact, the dungeon guard post was typically reserved for senior members.

Why? Because as long as they didn’t lay a hand on the prisoner directly, they could torment them {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} however the hell they liked.

That’s why the morning guard stomped on Qing’s rice ball like a goddamn performance. It wasn’t just because he was a piece of shit.

It was because he could. Because that’s how it had always been done.

Some liked to harass with insults. Some pissed in front of the cell. Some poked the prisoner awake in the middle of the night. Everyone had their own flavor of sadism.

The goal was to slowly grind down the prisoner’s spirit until it rotted.

But after the shock of what he saw that morning, this guard didn’t feel like poking the hornet’s nest.

And truthfully? Just watching Qing’s face while she sat there, eyes closed like a serene painting, was enough to pass the time.

Fuck, she was hot. Seriously, what the fuck. Hot as hell. He swallowed hard, just counting the days until she got “disposed of.”

Right then, the guard pulled out his lunch—a rice ball wrapped in bamboo leaves—and started peeling it open.

Qing’s eyes snapped open.

With the glint of a predator, her diamond-shaped pupils gleamed as she locked onto the rice ball like a hawk.

“Excuse me, kind sir? What’s the plan for my lunch today?”

The guard’s expression twisted with irritation. Did she think she was in some kind of inn?

“Lunch?”

“Pardon me? You’re joking, right? Even if you hate someone, you should at least feed them, don’t you think?”

“Stupid bitch. You think we’d waste even a single meal on a righteous dog like you? There’s no food. Not now, not ever. So stop spouting that bullshit.”

“No food? What do you mean? But this morning—”

“That was Senior Ju’s personal ration. If you're hungry, you’ll have to earn our mercy. Maybe flutter your eyes a little. Heh.”

So basically, food was up to the guards’ whims.

Qing now understood the malicious system in full.

The guard smirked as he continued.

“Hungry, huh? Then how about sucking this old man’s dick? If you do it well, I might toss you a rice ball.”

Sigh.

“Men...”

Qing let out a deep, tired sigh.

Men were such pitiful beasts. In a system where anything goes as long as they don’t physically touch the prisoner, how could they not break?

“Step aside. I need to try something.”

“What? Seriously? That easy?”

The guard stood up instantly, hand already reaching for his waistband. But his eyes suddenly landed on a dark, dried bloodstain on the bars of her cell.

A cold chill ran down his spine. Whatever excitement he felt evaporated in an instant.

“You dirty bitch... You were trying to lure me in.”

“Oh? Sharp one, aren’t you?”

Qing smiled sweetly as she said it.

The guard’s knees buckled, and he collapsed onto a chair.

“So. When exactly are you planning to bring me my lunch? Just a heads-up—I have a real grudge when it comes to food. Let’s not add fuel to that fire, okay? Let’s all just be friends.”

Translation: Feed me if you don’t want to die.

The Blood Sect guard hesitated, seriously considering it for a moment.

She was the same woman who bent steel bars around someone like they were goddamn ribbon.

Was it really smart to make an enemy out of her over some rice? Maybe just give her what she wants and avoid the drama.

But then again... what could a prisoner do?

Her confidence would only last so long. Every woman in that dungeon eventually cried and begged when the Vice Lord got serious.

Especially the pretty ones. They just had to wait until disposal day.

“Stupid bitch. Know your place. Fine. How about a dance? Strip down and show me something hot. If I like it, maybe I’ll give you this much.”

He pinched off a fingernail-sized chunk of the rice ball and held it up.

Qing sighed again.

Why were all the worst bastards cut from the same cloth?

“Why is it that no one ever listens when you just talk? I offer them peace, they force me to get violent. Such a waste of effort.”

“Hah! And what are you gonna do if it’s too much effort? You’re the one stuck in a fucking cage—”

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The guard’s sentence cut off.

Not because he meant to stop. But because Qing had spread the bars wide open like curtain tassels at a storefront.

Steel, by nature, resists pulling and pushing. It’s weak against bending.

And Qing’s strength had long since outgrown anything steel could handle.

She launched through the open bars like a missile.

The guard reached for his sword, but seriously—how wide was that hallway?

Before he could react, Qing had already grabbed him by the throat. His breath caught, and he struggled helplessly in her grip.

But that only lasted a moment.

Once the blood flow to the brain was cut off, the difference between a martial master and a mid-tier fighter was just how violently they resisted before passing out.

The guard wasn’t more than a first-rate at best. With Qing gripping his neck like she was about to slam him into the wall, he couldn’t even put up a decent struggle.

Eventually, he went limp.

“Like I didn’t know how to walk out if I wanted to. I try to keep things civil and they just keep pushing it. These assholes always go looking for a beating.”

Qing grumbled, stuffing the rice ball into her mouth with one hand while grabbing the unconscious guard by the hair with the other, dragging him right back into the cell.

Then she stripped off his jacket, bound his arms tightly behind his back, pulled down his pants, and gagged him firmly.

She walked over to the bent iron bars and held onto them.

“Ugh, bending them was easy. Straightening them back is the real bitch.”

She spent a good while grunting and tugging before finally bending the bars back into place so subtly that it was almost impossible to tell they’d been warped.

Satisfied, Qing nodded to herself.

Then she reached into the pouch at her waist—and pulled out five more rice balls, still wrapped in fragrant bamboo leaves.

Yeah, no wonder the guy didn’t want to share. If this was his lunch, just six rice balls, he probably felt possessive.

Thinking that, Qing began enjoying her lunch with a happy little hum.

Still, why the hell was it just plain rice with salt? No toppings, no sides? Was the Blood Sect that broke? Who the hell lives on just salted rice?

Even so, the rice was sticky, perfectly chewy, and had a pleasant bamboo aroma. Honestly? Pretty damn decent.

She devoured all six rice balls—one from the guard and five from his stash—enough to fill three bowls, easily.

Only then did she press a finger against the guard’s shoulder.

Her long, pale, elegant finger sank in without resistance, like it was slipping into tofu.

And Qing’s expression went dreamy.

Oh... god. That was satisfying. Like, dangerously satisfying.

The guard, though? Not so much.

He jolted awake with a gasp, squirming.

“Mmgh. Mmmff!”

His mouth was stuffed tight with a whole pair of pants, so not much sound got out.

“Shh. Quiet now. See, you should’ve just fed me when I asked nicely. Why make things harder on both of us?”

“Mmmph! Mmrrhh!”

“Alright. I’m going to take the gag off now. But if you scream, you will die here, got it? When people rush in, do you think anyone’s going to come save your sorry ass? Or are they just gonna stand there and watch while you get slaughtered? If you get it, nod.”

The guard nodded furiously.

He’d seen the scene from this morning. He knew no one was going to help if she went off again.

Hell, he was the one who didn’t help back then.

“Okay then. Since I got lunch, I’ll let the whole ‘grudge over food’ thing go. But you still need to pay for pissing me off. Pick one—your right arm, your left arm, or your neck. I’ll rip off the one that matters less to you.”

It was the kind of threat that could freeze blood.

She was basically saying both arms were coming off. The choice was just about which one would hurt more.

“I—I’m sorry! Please forgive me!”

“Oh wow. Look how polite you got. I knew you had potential. Good news is, there’s exactly one way for you to walk out of here with all your limbs still attached. Wanna hear it?”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“If you tell me everything you know—honestly, no lies—I won’t touch a hair on your head. Shoulder’s an exception, sorry, already poked that. But if you’re honest, I’ll let you go intact.”

“Everything... like, everything-everything?”

Qing flashed a bright, cheerful smile.

“Everything. What this place is. Who all of you are. Your buddies' martial arts, what goes on here, all the juicy stuff about the Blood Sect. Every. Single. Thing. You. Know.”