I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 252: The Appearance of the Divine Dragon (8)

It was Sanskrit — the original language of Buddhism, spoken in the land where it was born.

What Muak didn’t know was that Qing happened to be carrying around a built-in universal translator.

The moment she heard the full mnemonic, her Martial Arts Interface °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° sparkled. She checked and — voilà! — a new technique had been automatically saved in “pending registration.”

And not just any technique — it had a purple border.

Illuminated Vajra Lion’s Heart Technique?

Hmm. Purple usually means it’s good, right?

“That’s the full cycle,” Muak said, smiling. “A bit long, but if you silently recite it during your breathing exercises, something good is bound to happen. Now then, I’ll go over it again. Oum-dum—”

“Wait, Master? Are you going to keep repeating it until I memorize the whole thing?”

“Of course,” he said without missing a beat. “Reciting sutras is merit in itself. This wisdom was passed directly to me by a high monk of India. Just chanting it during breathing practice lets the deep spiritual essence of Buddhism take root. Like I said — you’re still young, so your brain’s soft enough to actually remember it.”

Sanskrit is, by nature, long.

To be more precise, Chinese is absurdly short by comparison. That’s because Chinese is essentially the world’s most primitive and brainless system of drawing-based memorization — across past, present, future, and all three thousand realms of the universe.

It has one saving grace: brevity.

But even then, every short phrase requires a comment, and the comment needs a sub-comment, and that needs its own annotation... which turns one task into three. So really, it’s twice the work.

Trying to remember all that with just raw memory?

You could listen all day — again and again and again — and still fall short.

Qing lowered her head, clenched her jaw, shut her eyes tight, and mentally pulled the pending martial art into her active register.

This chapter is updat𝓮d by freēnovelkiss.com.

If she were alone, she’d let her body convulse like an idiot, eyes rolling back, mouth frothing while her brain got scrambled. But in front of a monk? Not happening. She had to stay composed — or at least make it look that way.

Since she’d been told to memorize it, she figured the least she could do was activate it with a direct brain download.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?”

“D-‘dyea, I memowized it,” she slurred.

Her tongue tripped — a side effect of her brain getting massaged like dough.

“What? You memorized it after hearing it twice? Are you joking? I had to meditate for half a day and get whacked with a bamboo stick just to remember it!”

“I-I’ll recite it once. Please tell me if I get anything wrong.”

Then Qing rattled off the entire mnemonic from memory — a perfect, flowing stream.

The Sanskrit words, coming from the lips of a beautiful young woman, created a sound so mysterious and otherworldly it gave you goosebumps.

And shockingly enough... she really had memorized it all.

“This can’t be,” Muak muttered. “Again. Do it again.”

“Yes, so...”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

He made her go through it ten times in total. Only then did he finally let out a defeated sigh.

“If you’d pursued scholarly study instead of martial arts, you might’ve become the greatest sage this world has ever seen. But alas... born in a woman’s body, Heaven’s will couldn’t reach you.”

Had Ximen Surin heard that, she would’ve delivered a blanket bombing of skull-thwacking flicks.

Then again, in the uncivilized backwater that was Zhongyuan, no one recognized a woman’s learning anyway — so technically, he wasn’t wrong.

After all, the ruling philosophy of this place could be summed up in eight words: All glory to the Son of Heaven, all blame to women.

If the nation falls, it’s because some woman messed up — hence why figures like Daji and Yang Guifei are blamed for everything, labeled as femme fatales.

“Yes. You’ve memorized it,” Muak said at last. “If you recite it ten times in the morning, quietly repeat it during breathing practice, and then recite it again ten times before bed, I guarantee good fortune will come your way. Especially for someone like you, who bears the baleful starlight of the Celestial Killing Star — this training will be priceless.”

“Understood. Wait — wait, you knew?”

Qing flinched in shock.

He really just dropped that out of nowhere.

Muak snorted.

“Anyone worth their salt can tell at a glance. It’ll help you suppress that killing aura, so take this seriously — morning, noon, and night. Got it?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“As you should be.”

“...Huh?”

That’s usually where “Please accept my thanks” comes in, right?

Muak burst into a loud laugh.

“Gratitude is the heart moved by kindness. When you offered to return the divine technique so freely, don’t you think I felt grateful too? We’ve exchanged virtue — this is no small matter. In fact, our mutual gratitude multiplies that virtue. That’s what we call dependent origination.”

Qing stared at him blankly.

What the hell is he talking about? Is he telling me to fake gratitude or something?

Muak laughed again and rose to his feet.

“Now then. When the secret scroll’s complete, bring it to Wuming Temple. Don’t make an old monk come chase you down. You’re young — you should get out and move around.”

****

That night, Cheon Yuhak held out a pair of shoes.

“Here. Shoes for your training. You’ll be wearing these from now on.”

“Uh... what are these shoes?”

“They’re called Silent Steps.”

Whether you could even call them shoes was questionable.

The soles only covered the balls of the feet. The back part was just a drooping trail of silk that wrapped around the heel.

The arch and heel were completely exposed — if you stood upright, your bare feet would touch the ground.

“So I have to walk on the balls of my feet the whole time?”

“Exactly.”

“If I don’t lift my heel, this silk flap is going to drag and get all dirty.”

“Then lift your heel.”

“And what’s with these bells? I’m not a kid — am I supposed to jingle around like I’m announcing my presence?”

Qing gave the Silent Steps a little shake.

Fortunately, the bells were heavy, so they didn’t make an obnoxious jingle. Just a soft clinking, like someone shaking a coin pouch.

“When you step, use only your forefoot. Oh, and the soles are double-layered — if you step too hard, they’ll make a knocking sound, like wood clapping. So make sure neither the sole nor the bell makes a sound. Walk gently. Move each step with fluidity and care.”

Once you got used to it, you could walk in total silence.

That was Cheon Yuhak’s secret — why his footsteps made no sound at all.

“Can’t I just... I don’t know, walk like a normal person?”

“Think of it this way. Just wearing those, focusing on making no noise, is training. You’re basically getting free cultivation.”

“Huh?”

Qing blinked.

...Now that he said it like that — huh. That does make sense, doesn’t it?

“That’s just the first stage. Once you’re used to it, you’ll need to switch to a pair with louder soles and lighter bells. If you can move in complete silence even in stage three, you’ll be able to walk over fallen leaves without making a single sound.”

“Ooh.”

And just like that, Qing was sold.

And the result?

“Damn it...”

There’s no such thing as free training in this world.

Training is supposed to be hard. So when someone says you’re ‘training just by walking,’ what they really mean is that walking itself is a form of torture.

The forefoot of the Silent Steps was like one of those weird shoes used for tap dancing back in Qing’s hometown — they made a sharp, snappy click! with the slightest step.

The soft clinking sound, like silver coins jingling, came from bells hidden inside the silk trailing down over the heel.

So with every step, it was:

Click. Clink.

And again:

Click. Clink.

And since the heels had no sole, Qing had to tiptoe constantly. To keep the silk from dragging on the ground, she had to lift her heels way higher than expected — practically marching on her toes like a ballerina on a mission.

Still, Cheon Yuhak’s words were... oddly encouraging.

“Damn. Even a grub knows how to roll, and you’re already smooth from the start. You’ll be onto the next level in no time.”

Qing’s body was anything but ordinary — walking on tiptoe didn’t hurt or tire her out. It was just annoying.

She walked just fine.

Until — whack!

A surprise nuclear strike hit her from behind, and Qing dropped like a stone, rubbing her head furiously like some caveman trying to start a fire. At this rate, she might’ve actually sparked a flame.

“OW!”

“You little brat! What kind of shameless hussy goes around shaking her ass like that? It’s already the size of a rice bowl — where the hell did you pick up that kind of disgraceful habit?!”

Lifting the heel naturally tilted the hips back, causing her butt to stick out. To keep her balance, her hips swung side to side like a pendulum.

And the result?

A walk that had nothing in common with Ximen Surin’s ladylike “elegant beauty stride” and everything in common with a sultry temptress bewitching men with every step.

“It’s not like that! It’s just—AAAGH!!”

THWACK!!

Qing tried to explain, even lifted one shoe to show her defense, but that only triggered the second blast of divine retribution. She couldn’t take it — she rolled across the floor in defeat.

Because, of course, one hit is never enough to get the point across. The second strike is mandatory.

“You shameless girl! Walking around barefoot in broad daylight? Cover them this instant!”

“Oww, Master, seriously, I think my skull’s split in half...”

“Hmph. Maybe a cracked head will knock some sense into you. Enough whining. Get up and cover your feet.”

No sympathy to be found. Qing quickly slipped her shoes back on.

She explained the situation, but Ximen Surin still clicked her tongue sharply, clearly displeased.

“Well... I suppose since it’s training, there’s no helping it. Embarrassing as it sounds, it’s apparently an effective method. Still, you’d better master it quickly and stop walking like that.”

“Yes, Master...”

Qing shrank like a wilted leaf.

But since she had her master here anyway, there was something she wanted to ask—

“Oh. Master? Do you know anything about a technique called the Illuminated Vajra Lion’s Heart Technique?”

“Hm? Vajra Lion’s Heart, you mean? Isn’t that one of those divine techniques from the Tibetan monks? I’ve heard it came from the Great Thunder Temple in India. Wait, did you pick up another technique somewhere? This time you’ve really brought back a treasure.”

Ximen Surin didn’t even pretend to be surprised anymore.

“No, it’s not like that. Master Muak taught it to me.”

“That bald monk? That can’t be right. His disciple’s already practicing the Waterlike Thought Sutra, so he wouldn’t hand over another technique lightly — not unless he was ignorant of your peculiar constitution.”

“Well, I told him I’d return the Tathagata’s Palm, and then he recited a mnemonic for me. It didn’t seem like he meant to teach the actual technique — just told me to memorize the verse.”

“Tch. If he meant to teach you, he should’ve done it properly. Then again... if that scripture alone helps suppress the Celestial Killing Aura... Wait a minute. That monk — he saw your aura? Did you show him your pulse?”

“He just... looked at me and knew.”

That gave Ximen Surin a moment of perspective.

In truth, as one’s cultivation deepens, each step forward becomes like teetering on the edge of a cliff at the end of the world.

The few steps Muak had taken ahead of her might not seem like much...

But in terms of height — the difference was staggering.

“...Haaah. Your Master has been far too negligent.”

Now, as for the Illuminated Vajra Lion’s Heart Technique — it’s a practice that uses the wisdom of the lion and the elephant to protect both body and spirit.

Here, “Lion’s Heart” doesn’t refer to emotions, but to the actual heart organ. It’s a rare form of internal martial arts that bridges the physical and the spiritual — something only found in supreme techniques.

In most martial arts, a Heart Seal cultivates internal energy, while a Body Seal strengthens the external form. But only in transcendent-level techniques are the two fused into one.

So what is the wisdom of the lion and the elephant?

It’s about pushing forward in the face of hardship — forging ahead even when trapped or cornered. Protecting your heart with unwavering will.

Still, let’s be honest. That’s all secondary.

The real appeal?

Power. Raw power.

The lion and the elephant are icons of overwhelming strength.

Those who master this art are said to gain the spiritual force of both beasts. At full mastery, one could wield the might of ten lions and ten elephants.

Granted, martial arts mnemonics are always full of poetic exaggeration — but they still get the point across.