I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 235: Even a Ronin Has the Loyalty of a Ronin (8)

“C-Can you swear you'll really let me go? On your sect and your master’s honor?”

“You people really are something else. Fine. If you spill everything you know, no lies, I swear—on the honor of my master and the Divine Maiden Sect—that I’ll let you walk out of here alive. This time. You’re not expecting eternal immunity just for sharing a few juicy bits, are you?”

Even as Qing gave her word, she added that caveat.

Because she knew all too well—sometimes, adding a condition made your promise feel even more believable.

“N-No, of course not. I’m Yu Sung-gwang, a senior martial guard of the Second Blood Venom Squad, under Elder Withered Tree of the Blood Sect.”

“Second Blood Venom Squad?”

“‘Second Blood Venom’ refers to a type of Gu parasite with two stripes on its body. Our unit specializes in handling that particular variant...”

Yu Sung-gwang began spilling everything he knew.

The Blood Sect’s organizational structure. His unit’s hierarchy. Their assignments. He just kept talking, unraveling it all with no sense of order, desperate to stay alive.

Since their unit worked with Gu poison, their main job was to infiltrate Murim, infect key figures, and turn them into assets.

But infecting them wasn’t enough. There were methods to purge the parasites, after all.

So they had to break their minds and bodies through torture—emotional and physical—until the host was so twisted and broken that even if the Gu was removed, they’d still obey orders like loyal dogs.

That was the point: destroy them completely, and then rebuild them as obedient husks.

“Then they use those... discarded collaborators to infect more important targets, or to steal information, or help infiltrate—”

“Hold on.”

It wasn’t what Qing wanted to hear, but some parts of it got her attention.

“Discarded collaborators? ‘Discarded’ sounds a hell of a lot like ‘thrown away.’ Is that some kind of Blood Sect lingo?”

“Ah... that’s... the Division Chief and Deputy Commander’s personal tastes...”

What followed was disgustingly grotesque.

At the end of the prisoner-breaking process, the “discarded” ones—men, women, it didn’t matter—were passed off to pigs, stray dogs, or filthy beggars. Before that, however, direct sexual torture was forbidden.

They saved the worst of the worst for last, to tear away the victim’s final shred of dignity.

That final act of “disposal,” according to the Division Chief’s and Deputy Commander’s preferences, ensured the prisoner would never resist again.

Qing gave her honest reaction.

“Mm. Yeah. Now I really want to kill every last one of you.”

“You—you said you’d let me live—!”

“I did. And I meant it. I swore on my master’s honor, so I can’t break that. But this Gu parasite stuff? Let’s hear more about that.”

And so began a crash course on Gu poison, straight from a Blood Sect specialist.

When it finally ended, Yu Sung-gwang said, “I’ve told you everything I know.”

“Hm. But how do I know you’re not lying?”

Qing stood and stretched.

“Wait here. I’ll go catch one more guy and cross-check your story.”

“I-I swear I told the truth—!”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, if you did lie, this is your last shot to correct it. Remember what I said? If you lied, you die.”

Qing’s pupils narrowed sharply.

The whites of her eyes bloomed wide, making her irises look like tiny dots, surrounded by ghostly violet glimmer—Death Gaze.

Yu Sung-gwang froze in terror.

He was staring into the raw essence of the Celestial Killing Star—one of the most cursed and violent astral signs. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even move.

“You’ll be begging me to kill you before I’m done. First, I’ll peel your skin off—nice and slow. Last chance. Anything you forgot to tell me?”

“Th-There’s... there’s one more thing...”

A few corrections tumbled out, along with some completely useless trivia.

Judging by his panicked face, it seemed like he was finally telling the truth.

“So, I’ve told you everything now, so...”

“Right. A promise is a promise.”

Qing nodded, and then asked cheerfully:

“By the way, what’s your father’s name?”

Yu Sung-gwang swallowed hard.

“Why... why are you asking that?”

“You never told me. And I clearly said to tell me everything. Seems like you’ve been holding out, huh?”

“N-No, it’s not ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ like that! My father’s name is...”

And suddenly, his entire family history came pouring out—unasked, unfiltered, frantic.

“Good. Now, what’s your favorite food? Least favorite? Anything you’re allergic to?”

“Why are you asking about food...?”

“What about hobbies? What kind of women are you into? Who are your closest friends? Got any embarrassing childhood stories? I did explicitly ask you to tell me everything, didn’t I?”

Qing’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“If you really told me everything, how come I still know so little? Don’t tell me... you were planning to trick me from the start? Unbelievable. You tried to lie to me? You lied to me? Well, the deal was clear. You hide something, you die.”

“Wait, th-that’s not—mmph!”

Qing shoved the guy’s own pants back into his mouth.

And when he saw her smiling radiantly, like spring sunshine?

That’s when he knew.

She never planned to let him live.

Asking for “everything” was always a trap—an impossible condition. He couldn’t possibly satisfy it.

“I mean, I don’t know if this’ll make you feel better... but you won’t be the only one. A few others will be joining you soon. So you won’t be lonely.”

If she thought it was comforting, it wasn’t.

Yu Sung-gwang thrashed violently, eyes wild.

Then Qing clapped her hands with a cheery smack.

“Oh right, I think they said this place has great soundproofing? My bad. Let me take the gag out at least. It’d be awful to die in pain without even getting to scream.”

****

[Premonition — Unknown Crisis Number]

[You have uncovered the Blood Sect’s true objective.]

Mission-Based Action

...

...

...

“Wow. Now they bring this up? After I already figured it out?”

Qing scoffed.

Why did the system always act like it was the one revealing things, when she was the one doing all the damn work?

She clicked her tongue and dismissed the newly updated martial arts window.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. Getting a little karma boost while doing something fun? Gaining bonus cultivation points on top of it?

That worked.

But the system’s hands-off attitude? Like it didn’t care whose side she was on?

Honestly, it made her sick. She couldn’t feel a shred of affection for it. How were you supposed to care about a system that wouldn’t even bother pretending to care about you?

But none of that anxiety reached her.

Qing was feeling better than ever.

Clear-headed. Refreshed. Lighter.

She grabbed the dungeon key from the ex-guard and stood up—

—only to wobble, then crash back down like a sack of bricks.

She had to get up twice because the first time she damn near face-planted.

When the blood rushed hot beneath her skin, something inside her just—clicked. It was insane. It was overwhelming. But goddamn, it felt good.

Still... it felt good, right? And good things are just that—good. Simple logic.

Qing, her eyes unnaturally clear and gleaming, stepped out of the dungeon bathed in blood.

She’d heard the guards rotated shifts daily.

They spent the whole day tormenting prisoners for fun, then either rolled out a cot to nap, or stayed up poking the inmates to keep them awake, whatever tickled their fancy. No one really cared what they did.

And since they got the next day off to “recover,” it was considered a cushy gig—only senior members got to take it.

It was strangely familiar, this setup. Seemed like “units” operated the same way no matter what world you were in.

Qing, having secured her own safety, moved without hesitation.

The Gu parasite inside her was a self-purifying symbiote that fed on toxins. And escaping? If she really wanted to, she could walk out at any moment.

What did bother her was the thought of those poor bastards—those drifters who’d picked up food off the ground and unknowingly swallowed Gu parasites.

They’d taken not one but two pills made from ground-up human lives, and still hadn’t broken the 100-point barrier. If there was a way to save them, she figured she probably should.

Like someone once said—you didn’t trap me in here. You just trapped yourselves inside with me.

Which movie was that from? Oldboy? Alien?

Neither. The answer was The Watcher—but Qing didn’t remember anymore.

Her Korean cultural memories had faded to the point where they only showed up in dreams, vague and surreal, like déjà vu from a life she no longer owned.

And when she did dream of her homeland, she’d wake up shaking, gripped by a fear so raw it left her breathless.

What if she ever did go back?

No, she was certain now—there was no going back to the modern world. She’d never fit in there again.

Tch. There you go again, thinking dark thoughts.

But today, her body and mind were in a blissful state. She shook it off easily.

Qing pushed open the outer iron door.

SCREEEEEECH.

The metal shrieked in protest as it swung open. Figures. No oiling. Terrible maintenance.

She stepped into the corridor from the second holding room, checked the numbers on the doors, and walked over to the first cell’s iron door.

She knocked—tok tok tok.

A sliding metal panel like a doggy door opened at the bottom, and a voice answered from within.

“What the—who is it?”

At that exact moment, Qing shoved the door hard.

CLANG! The heavy metal groaned under her strength, slid halfway open—THUD!—then slammed into something solid. The impact jolted Qing’s wrist.

She darted inside, slammed the door shut behind her, and kicked the doggy door closed for good measure.

Fully sealed now. She remembered someone—probably already dead—saying that once the flap was shut, no sound escaped the room.

That’s when she saw it.

Shit.

The room’s guard was lying on the floor, bleeding heavily from the head.

“Damn. Can’t have him die. That’d be a waste.”

Qing quickly checked his pulse.

She liked dismantling the living, not defiling corpses. That was just gross, and honestly, disrespectful to the dead.

Thankfully, the guy just had a nasty concussion and had passed out.

Qing stripped him, tied his hands and feet securely, and made sure he couldn’t run.

No need to gag him—this room’s soundproofing was more than enough. Knowledge is power, as the ancestors said. And she was learning plenty.

She grabbed the dungeon key from the guard and opened the central prison door.

The second it creaked open, she heard it—

“Hiiiiek!”

A terrified squeal from the center of the dungeon.

It came from a tiny iron box.

Qing had one in her own cell. She’d thought it was a toilet at first—but no, it was a torture device.

They stuffed prisoners inside the cramped box, forced them to contort their bodies to fit, and every time they came out, the Gu parasite would flood them with venom.

Qing let out a long sigh.

“Young miss? Are you alright in there?”

“I’m not a young miss. I’m livestock. I’m not a young miss. I’m livestock. I’m not a young miss—”

Yeah. That one was seriously broken.

Qing scratched her head.

The “Floral Annihilation” operation.

That was the name of the Blood Sect’s grand plan.

Sounded ominous, but the actual strategy was petty as hell.

The goal? Ruin the Murim Tournament and publicly humiliate the righteous sects.

The plan was to kidnap a beloved public figure in a city owned by the Murim Alliance—during the biggest martial arts event of the year—and break them so savagely that it would shake public faith in the righteous factions.

With the Second Blood Venom Squad’s skillset, they couldn’t go after any true masters.

Any martial artist at the Haegyeong level or higher would just burn the parasite out of their body before it could do anything.

So no grandmasters. They needed a celebrity—but a soft target. Someone who’d make headlines, not pose a threat.

Naturally, that led them to the Five Beauties of Murim. Darlings of both the righteous and secular world. Beautiful, famous, and tragic when destroyed.

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freewebnσvel.cøm.

That’s why they named the mission Floral Annihilation—a plan to destroy a flower.

Their first target had been Lily.

But the higher-ups ordered them not to touch her.

Poison Flower was immune to the Gu, so she was off the table.

Lotus Blossom didn’t even show up to the tournament.

That left two candidates: Snow Blossom and Sword Blossom.

Snow Blossom never left her residence, so they were biding their time.

Sword Blossom, meanwhile, had been embarrassed after losing to a drifter in the martial tournament. She left the city, and the Blood Sect swooped in and took her while she was vulnerable.

She was deep into “reeducation” now.

“Young miss Moyong? It’s Ximen Qing.”

“I’m not a young miss—”

Something shifted in the box. The top bumped open slightly, then the entire thing shook violently and finally toppled over.

From inside, Moyong Juhee spilled out.

No—erupted might be the better word.

She collapsed onto the floor in a tangled heap.