I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 226: Dormant Dragon Martial Contest (8)

“Hey, Nanah. I picked this up on the way—could you take a look? It’s called a Sleepfire Pill or something.”

“Huh? Sleepfire Pill? Qing, you shouldn’t just pick stuff like that up. The side effects and effects vary wildly, you know.”

Cheap Sleepfire Pills barely did anything useful but drained your Source Qi like mad—essentially glorified suicide pills.

High-end ones, on the other hand, were either explosively powerful, caused minimal damage to your Source, or sometimes both. The range was huge.

Tang Nanah, who always turned dead serious when it came to harmful substances, launched into a full lecture before opening the box—then immediately grimaced.

“What the hell, it’s bright red.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“You can dye it red, sure. You’ve got peony root, safflower, wolfberry, rowan berries—stuff like that. But usually, they don’t. If a pill comes out red, they usually try to mask it completely. Most people turn them pitch black instead. It just looks... sketchy.”

Now that she said it, Qing had to agree.

The pill Do Raeman gave her was red like blood—so vividly red it almost gave her chills just looking at it.

“So... can you figure out whether it’s actually good or not? And how bad the side effects are?”

“Hmm. Is this something we need to investigate secretly? Can’t we just ask one of the elders?”

“Hmm...”

Qing paused to think.

The problem was, this had the Divine Hermit’s name attached to it. If it turned out to be low-grade junk, it could get ugly fast.

Imagine word getting out that the Divine Hermit was handing out deadly poisons. Her master would lose his mind from the sheer injustice.

Updat𝓮d from freewēbnoveℓ.com.

“Yeah... could you keep this quiet and look into it?”

****

The next day.

Having drained the last drop of her medicinal boost, Qing now lay fully swollen and bound to a torture bed.

Terror was creeping up again.

Once the iron shackles locked her joints from top to bottom, she couldn’t even twitch a single finger.

It felt like she was strapped to the top of one of those free-fall rides from back home.

What was I thinking, agreeing to this?

Maybe it’s not too late to call it off...?

Just then, Cheon Yuhak appeared—dragging a rope with him—and began strapping her and the training rack together.

“Master? You didn’t do this part last time...”

“I inspected the rack after the last session. The shackles were wobbling. I’m no blacksmith, so if they break, I wouldn’t even know how to fix them. This is the best way to keep it from falling apart.”

So basically, he could maintain it, but not repair it. And if he had to send it to an actual blacksmith, who knew how long training would be delayed?

Better to reinforce it with rope.

“Seriously, though. What kind of girl is this freakishly strong?”

“Oww, could you at least ease up a little? This is way too tight. And what the hell is this rope even made of?”

“It’s a special weapon called Coiling Dragon Rope. It’ll fit once the swelling goes down, so just endure it for... let’s say two and a half hours.”

“But the torture lasts three whole hours, and you want me to endure this for most of it?”

“Once it starts, you’ll be in too much pain to even notice. So who cares?”

Then Qing realized—it wasn’t just one rope.

Both arms were bound. Both legs. Her torso was tightly wrapped, and even her neck was snugly looped in.

And these weren’t ordinary ropes. These were actual named weapons. Great. Yet another bit of unwanted knowledge she’d now never forget.

They were called Winning Rope or Coiling Cords—weapons designed in rope form.

“Master, I... I can’t breathe. I seriously can’t breathe. Is this thing choking my neck or something?”

“It’s your abdomen that’s squeezing you. There’s no room left for your lungs to expand. But three hours like that? Should be fine. Probably.”

“Probably?! That’s not reassuring at a—mmpff!”

Even with a superhuman body, once the gag went in, she couldn’t say another word.

Qing tried to squirm in protest, but her chest cavity was so tightly bound she couldn’t even puff up her lungs. Her entire body was immobilized down to the last hair.

And when she tried to fight it, the only thing that happened was her remaining breath leaking out of her lungs.

Now there was nothing left—no space for her lungs to fill, and no energy left to force them to expand.

I... I can’t breathe...!

She desperately sucked in air—

—and just then, the training rack bent backward, pulling every joint in her body the wrong way. From her fingers to her shoulders, every single joint wrenched outward in one hellish snap—

Qing stared up at a familiar ceiling.

A tiny # Nоvеlight # one-room apartment. Her safe little place from before she ever left her old life as a factory worker.

Right... it looked like this. I’d forgotten... it’s been so long since I thought about it.

She tilted her head.

Wait, why am I here?

As she tried to recall, the memory of blinding pain flooded back.

“Ah. Right. I passed out.”

Qing realized what had happened.

It had been so excruciating she must’ve blacked out—something that made death seem preferable.

And then she heard it.

A strange, discordant voice.

—“HIIIIK! HUEEHHH! AAAHHHH!!”

Qing turned her head. A long-haired, muscular man had broken into her one-room apartment and was now shrieking in terror, trembling like a leaf.

—“AAAUUUGHH! AHHHH...!”

It was the spiritual remnant of the Heavenly Demon.

Wait, huh? But what’s with his mental state...?

He was flailing and trembling violently, his eyes totally vacant, and his voice no longer even sounded human.

“What the... why are you like this? Hey?”

—“KYAAAA!!”

The former Heavenly Demon screamed like a little girl, slamming his face into the floor and covering his ears.

*Wasn’t there a saying about ostriches burying their heads when predators show up? Like if they can’t see the threat, the threat can’t see them?

Qing had never really cared whether that was true or just a fable. But this guy? He was doing exactly that.

What the hell? Did he totally break down?

And the culprit... was Qing.

A human’s subconscious simply could not allow an external invader to hijack their body.

Every time Qing fell asleep, her subconscious mercilessly shattered the Heavenly Demon’s spirit like popping bubble wrap.

Over ten thousand times, his soul had cracked and splintered—until it fully collapsed into madness.

Of course, Qing had no idea.

If she did know, it wouldn’t be called “subconscious,” would it?

Not even a master of psychoanalysis—like the mythical Sir Freud or his archrival Lord Jung—could’ve understood what was happening.

Then suddenly, a warning bell rang inside Qing’s senses: she was about to wake up.

“No! No, not yet...!”

Her face contorted in panic, matching the Heavenly Demon’s as he buried his head in the floor.

Please—just a little longer. Let me stay unconscious a little more. I don’t want to go back. I’m sorry, I’ll be good, just please...!

And then suddenly—

Wait. What was that?

SPLASH!

A sheet of ice-cold water slapped Qing across the face.

If you’re wondering where someone found freezing water at the end of May—well, Cheon Yuhak had also smacked her with a block of ice bought from an Ice Elemental. That explained that.

“Mmmph! Mmmmphhh!”

Qing sputtered, awake at last, groaning behind her gag.

Cheon Yuhak assumed those muffled sounds were probably some very colorful curses. After all, when he underwent Lingering Oil Torture Training, he had shouted plenty of gag-muffled profanity himself.

But then...

Cheon Yuhak’s narrow eyes narrowed even further.

Was it just his imagination...?

No time to dwell on it.

Lingering Oil Torture wasn’t just excruciating for the one receiving it—it was a brutal physical and mental workout for the one conducting it, too.

Cheon Yuhak focused again, adjusting the machine, sharpening his senses to the tiniest feedback.

Ahh. I should’ve done this from the start. So much better...

Qing was sprawled out on the bed, watching the “screen.”

Her eyes were shaking so violently that even though she was clearly looking at the ceiling of a bathhouse she recognized all too well, the image spun too fast to recognize anything.

Of course, she wasn’t just lying there for fun.

“Not so fast.”

In an instant, Qing focused on her dantian and forcefully suppressed the will of the Heavenly Demon Spirit trying to rise. The Pacheon Demonic Qi that had been about to surge settled quietly back into her core.

When I try to use it, that damned demonic energy barely budges—but let a soul parasite grab hold of my body, and it suddenly throws a party.

Even when the Heavenly Demon Spirit had been intact, he was no match for her mentally. And now? He’d become a complete idiot.

Even if Qing died now, there was no need to worry about the resurrection of the Heavenly Demon.

His soul might still be technically immortal, but with his mind shattered, he couldn’t even take over a fragile child’s body.

So Qing just lay there on the training bed, calmly watching the agonizing torment of her own body play out like she was watching someone else’s suffering on a screen.

Honestly, the boredom was the worst part.

She couldn’t totally zone out either—she still had to stay focused enough to suppress the rampaging demonic energy in her dantian.

How much time had passed?

Eventually, Cheon Yuhak’s patchy hair came into view on the screen, fiddling with her gag.

Qing stuffed the soul parasite deep into her subconscious.

It had only been two and a half hours, but her whole body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Every joint ached like it had been shattered. There wasn’t a single part of her that didn’t hurt.

Still, now that the effects of the medicine had worn off, the swelling had gone down, and she could finally breathe comfortably again. Her chest had space to expand.

So it turned out Cheon Yuhak had been right—three hours really was fine. That made it feel unfair, somehow.

“Ugh... I’m gonna die...”

Having burned through every ounce of focus and energy for three hours straight, Cheon Yuhak collapsed flat on his back just like last time.

Qing shouted urgently:

“Master!? Wait! Can’t you unfasten me before you pass out!?”

“Later... I’ll unbind you later... You can’t move anyway, right?”

Pain forced people to tense up. Qing’s muscles were so thoroughly drained that even without the bindings, she wouldn’t have been able to move much.

“But at least make it less miserable—”

“You think I didn’t suffer too? It’s even harder to undo those Coiling Ropes. Let’s just... let’s both sleep it off...”

“Master? I need the bathroom. The small one. Urgently.”

“It’s just a bathhouse. Go ahead and pee...”

And with that, Cheon Yuhak passed out.

SNORE. His snoring echoed through the room like thunder.

“Are you serious?! Master? Master?! Hey! You’re really not untying me!?”

Only Qing’s panicked cries rang out across the bathhouse.

In the end, Qing didn’t sleep a wink while Cheon Yuhak snored like a corpse. She dragged her half-dead body, step by step, back to Wucheon Pavilion.

As she limped down the corridor, Tang Nanah—who had clearly been pacing nervously—spotted her and ran up.

“Qing! Where did you get this?! Don’t tell me you used it for something! Tell me you didn’t! You didn’t, right?!”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?”

Qing’s voice was hoarse. But her tone was still absurdly calm, laced with exhaustion and mild amusement.

That alone made Tang Nanah breathe a little easier.

Then she explained:

“What’s wrong with it? That thing is a twisted evil artifact forged from blood crystal. It’s made by dissolving people into medicine! How could you pick something like that up off the ground?!”

The simplest way to make a Sleepfire Pill was through poison-versus-poison alchemy.

In other words—awaken Source Qi by feeding it more Source Qi. A pill made from blood crystal produced explosive power and barely taxed the user’s body.

Blood crystal... it was a horrifying method, extracting a person’s Source Qi and refining it into medicine.

It originated from the alchemists of the Zhou Dynasty—the so-called immortals.

After the fall of Zhou, the records were burned and the alchemists were hunted down and executed. But as with all evil things, some vile strain survived.

And of course, one sect still used blood crystal like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The bastards of the Blood Sect.