I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 243: Even a Ronin Has the Loyalty of a Ronin (16)

"Uuuuuph! Uuuuuuuuph! Uuuuuuuuuph!"

"Grandpa. Do you have something you want to say?"

"Uuph! Uuph!"

Gyeong Damgan thrashed violently in response.

Qing paused to consider.

Hmm, should I remove the gag?

But what if he bites his tongue... well, would he?

Making a quick decision, Qing slammed her palm into her fist and then removed Gyeong Damgan’s gag.

"What the hell are you doing! You, a martial hero of the righteous sects—"

But before he could finish, Qing grabbed his jaw, crushing his words into a muffled mess.

"Come to think of it, the gag was only there to keep you from biting your tongue or breaking your teeth.

But we’re not exactly responsible for each other's dental health, are we?"

Then, without a hint of hesitation, Qing shoved her fingers deep into Gyeong Damgan’s mouth.

Gyeong Damgan bit down with all his strength, but if anyone thought that the beautiful hands honed by the fearsome Minor Demonic Arts would suffer from mere teeth, they would be sorely mistaken.

"Ah, and now for what I’m going to do.

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I’m going to pull out every single one of your healthy teeth.

That way, we won't even need a gag, and you won’t hurt yourself."

"AAAAH!"

"I’ll give the teeth as a gift to Miss Moyong.

You loved pulling out other people’s teeth, didn’t you, Grandpa?

You yanked out four of Moyong Sojeo’s molars yourself.

So for revenge, I’ll make sure to rip out every last one of yours.

Here’s the first one."

"AAAGH!"

"And here’s the second."

"AAAGH!!"

"Ugh, why are you licking my fingers?

What are you, a dog?

Well, actually, you are a dog.

Did you really think licking would stop me?

Just give it up and accept that you're paying for all your sins at the end of your miserable life."

"AAAGH!"

"Here comes the fourth.

Tch, old man, you have such good teeth.

Why do high-level martial artists always have such excellent dental health?

Must be the mystical power of Qi cultivation."

Qing plucked out one tooth after another, every other one, from Gyeong Damgan’s mouth.

Technically, the word "teeth" referred to human teeth, while "fangs" were used for animals.

And by that standard, it was only proper to call Gyeong Damgan’s teeth fangs.

Qing had expected them to pop out easily like assembly toys—

but no, there was something satisfyingly resistant, like thick sinew clinging to the roots.

Of course, the roots of the teeth were firmly anchored, so when Qing applied real strength, she could feel the satisfying pull as flesh and nerves tore loose.

When a living creature is in pain, thrashing around is a basic instinct to diffuse the agony.

Conversely, if you prevented them from thrashing, the pain would double.

"KEEEAGH! You merciless, bloodless devil!

How can you call yourself a hero of the righteous sects?!

You’re nothing but a butcher!"

Of course, with all his teeth ripped out, Gyeong Damgan’s pronunciation was severely garbled, but Qing understood him well enough.

"Aigo, you want to kill me?

Wrong.

You should be begging: 'Please kill me.'

Very politely.

With tears streaming down your face.

Maybe then—maybe—I would even consider it.

(Not that I would actually grant it.)"

Qing said this with a bright, innocent smile.

Gyeong Damgan still wasn't sure.

Was she exacting the extreme revenge of a righteous warrior who believed that evil must be destroyed painfully?

Or was she just reveling in another’s agony, like a natural-born sadist?

Now, he finally knew.

This one... was the same kind as him.

"Oh my, you're finally showing fear.

Good.

Respect is born from fear, after all.

Now, will you start speaking politely?

You old bastard mouthing off at someone young enough to be your grandchild—how disgraceful.

Tch, these damn seniors nowadays have no respect for their juniors."

It was a complete reversal of the natural order between the young and the old.

But Qing didn’t really know what she was saying anymore—she was just babbling happily, like a child thrilled with her toys.

"Save me... please, save me..."

"Ah, come on.

You’re still not getting it?

Not 'save me,' but 'kill me, please.'

That’s what a grandpa like you should be begging for.

Still won’t save you, though.

Hehe.

Frustrating, isn't it?

But what can you do?

You don’t even have teeth to bite anymore."

"I—"

Before he could finish, Qing gently cut him off with a sweet smile.

"Just think of it as a little pre-visit rehearsal for hell.

Oh, and don’t bother holding back your screams.

This room has great soundproofing, and personally, I love hearing screams.

So go ahead—let it all out.

Shall we start the real fun now?"

Thus, a noisy and delightfully joyful time passed.

Qing deepened her understanding of the human body.

Through countless trials, she learned exactly how much force tendons and joints could withstand,

what kind of resistance they offered at their limits,

and how much more pressure she had to apply to completely snap them.

After destroying every single joint in Gyeong Damgan’s body, Qing herself finally collapsed onto the floor, exhausted.

But even though all his joints were wrecked, his bones and flesh remained intact—

meaning there was still plenty of entertainment left.

Without a doubt, Qing could now declare:

The Lingering Oil Torture Rack was truly the finest masterpiece Zhongyuan had ever produced.

And then, she did everything she wanted to him.

The only disappointment was that the great demonic martial artist, who had been screaming such delightful high-pitched cries, gradually grew quieter over time.

Qing even poured saltwater into Gyeong Damgan’s mouth to stimulate his throat, but it only worked for a little while.

"Please, kill me, please, I beg you.

I am a sinner deserving death.

Please, just kill me..."

"Tch.

Can’t a girl get some peace while she’s lying down?"

"Ghh!"

"I’ll kill you eventually.

Now that playtime’s over."

"Th-thank you, thank you..."

Qing giggled softly and replied.

"Playtime’s over, and now we start the real thing.

You see, without any blood, it’s just not as fun.

I’ll untie you now.

If you don't want to be dissected alive, you’d better try and run.

If you don’t, I’ll assume you agree, and I’ll start skinning you from the fingertips."

The mighty demonic martial artist of the Blood Sect, Gyeong Damgan, had no tendons left attached to his bones.

Even if Qing untied him, the only thing he could do was twitch pathetically.

"Hiiiek—kill me, kill me, please kill me!"

"I told you already, didn’t I?

I’m not going to kill you just because you beg.

You spent your whole life torturing others, and you can’t even handle this?

Pathetic."

Qing, having endured it herself through three whole shichen (six hours), was more than entitled to say it.

She smiled brightly and drew her Qing Jade Sword.

It was a sharp, deadly weapon she had recovered thanks to the Blood Sect warriors' generous cooperation.

And then—

Ah, so that’s why they always torture people in bathhouses in movies.

It’s so nice to just wash everything clean when you're done.

Everyone knows what’s good, after all.

Qing’s eyes sparkled as she stepped out of the bathhouse.

Her gaze was pure, utterly serene—

like a Buddha who had achieved complete nirvana, free of even a speck of desire.

****

Qing’s next opponent was Wang Nopil, the master of chair-wielding violence.

However, due to the aftereffects of cutting open his stomach and extracting the toxic salamander, he couldn’t participate in the match and had to forfeit.

"You really didn’t have to forfeit.

I could’ve gone easy on you.

You could’ve at least swung your chair around once or twice and made a cool exit."

"Ha-ha—ack!"

Wang Nopil tried to laugh like a man, but ended up clutching his solar plexus.

Apparently, hearty laughter used a lot more abdominal muscles than expected, and his half-healed stomach protested sharply.

"Well, you never know until you try, right?

Even if Miss Ximen is a sword master, the outcome of a martial contest—"

"Do you really need to put a bamboo shoot next to a bamboo stalk to know which one’s longer?

Come on, just call it what it is—a graceful defeat."

"A graceful defeat?"

"Yeah.

You lost, but thanks to surgery, you can blame the forfeit and save your pride.

If it weren’t for that hole in your gut, I’m sure you’d be telling people you would’ve taken me down in the quarterfinals."

At that, Wang Nopil tried to laugh again—and promptly crumpled.

"You sound awfully confident about winning."

"Because it’s just a matter of course."

After visiting the sick wanderers who had illegally moved into the third floor of Mucheon Pavilion, Qing casually climbed the stairs to the very top, where she stayed.

In the best guest room of the Murim Alliance—shared only between Qing and Ximen Surin—there was one more unauthorized resident.

"Miss Moyong, how are you feeling?"

"Hiik!"

Moyong Juhee flinched violently, yanking her blanket up over her head.

Then, very slowly, she lowered it just enough to peek her eyes out at Qing.

Qing looked at her with a gaze full of sympathy.

"W-what's with that look!

It’s seriously creeping me out!"

"It’s okay.

I understand.

Here—this might not make you feel better, but it’s a gift."

Qing handed over a delicate bundle wrapped in fine silk.

Suspicious and wary, Moyong Juhee reluctantly untied the wrapping—

only to scream in terror as its contents spilled out.

Cleanly polished teeth went flying everywhere, scattering across the room.

"What the hell!

Why would you do this to me!"

"They're, um, Gyeong Damgan’s teeth.

I thought they might bring you a little comfort.

And don’t worry—I pulled them all out while he was still alive."

"I don’t need—don’t want—any of this!

Why?!

Why are you doing this to me!

What did I ever do to deserve this!

Get out!

I hate you!

I can’t even stand the sight of you!"

Moyong Juhee screamed, thrashing like she was having a full-blown seizure.

Well—no, it was a seizure.

Qing’s eyelid twitched faintly.

Tch, save someone’s life and this is the thanks you get.

Still, she could understand.

After everything Moyong Juhee had been through, it was only natural that her mind would be deeply wounded.

Qing decided to offer the best comfort she could.

It was the same comfort her sworn sister had once given her back when she was barely surviving inside the Demonic Cult—

because that had truly saved her.

Qing forcibly pulled Moyong Juhee into a hug.

"Let go!

Let me go!

What are you doing!"

"It’s okay.

Shh.

It’s okay.

You did nothing wrong, Miss Moyong.

The bad guys are all gone now.

Think of it all like a terrible nightmare you had.

I believe you can overcome it—you’re strong, both in body and in heart."

"L-let go..."

Moyong Juhee’s voice was wet with tears.

"Everything’s going to be fine.

And no one will ever know about what happened to you, either.

Only four of us know: me, Master Surin, Tang Nanah, and Grandpa Dok.

And all of us know how to keep our mouths shut."

The only people aware of Moyong Juhee’s kidnapping were Qing, Ximen Surin, Tang Nanah, ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) and Grandpa Dok.

"So don’t worry.

Just focus on resting and reco—ah! Agh!"

Qing’s words broke off into a sudden scream of pain.

Her voice shook with sharp, fragile agony.

"Wh-why...? Why...?"