I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 253: The Appearance of the Divine Dragon (9)

Most demonic qi was pure malice. It whispered to its host, urging them toward depravity, cruelty, lust, and chaos.

But the Pacheon Demonic Qi wasn’t like that. Its essence was destruction — pure and simple. If you cracked it open and peeked inside, you'd find something oddly... sacred. A holy yearning for rebirth through ruin.

After a while, the Fierce Joy True Qi gave up on its daily beatdown, disappointed once again.

It turned its gaze elsewhere, hoping for some fun — and caught sight of the cowardly Demonic Qi under the jurisdiction of the Autogenous Demonic Qi. They were inching toward the dantian’s exit, trying to sneak away while no one was looking.

Oh crap, they thought. That crazy qi’s coming again to beat us up.

The Fierce Joy True Qi just stared at them, amused. Go ahead. Try running.

Then — STOMP!

One foot slammed down, and the frightened demonic energies bolted. They kicked open the dantian’s door to flee—

Only to get smacked in the face when it swung inward instead. The door slammed open toward them, knocking them flat and sending them rolling across the dantian floor.

And from atop a shining golden tray borne aloft by a lion and an elephant — a new arrival made their grand entrance.

The lion and elephant were sacred beasts in Indian Buddhism, so golden statues of them were practically mandatory in every religious artwork. The new qi rode in on them like royalty.

The Great Virtue Zen Qi narrowed its eyes, skeptical.

It gave off the right Buddhist aura... but why did it reek so much of the worldly? Why was it covered in gaudy gold and glitter, like some pampered temple heir?

But then again — this technique, crafted from Indian teachings, carried the unmistakable fragrance of a homeland long missed.

So the Reversal Muscle-Tendon Sutra flung its arms open and gave its fellow native qi a big dramatic hug.

Seeing that, the Daoist True Qis all smiled warmly — like proud parents watching long-lost siblings reunite.

Meanwhile, the Autogenous Demonic Qi muttered, Screw this, and stormed off. I’m not sticking around to watch that crap.

Its demonic minions followed right behind.

And there, tucked in the corner of the dantian like mold on a wall, the Pacheon Demonic Qi just kept on smiling.

For some reason, though... it was crying too.

The Pacheon Demonic Qi was still smiling.

****

Qing had planned to talk to Gongsun Yoye when she showed up, but according to Tang Nana, she was currently tied up with some kind of major family ceremony.

“She keeps showing up to these banquets with this look like she has no idea what she’s supposed to do. I mean, the seat for the Ten Great Families is vacant now, right? It’ll probably go to either the Gongsun clan or the Sima family. So yeah, she’s probably busy making the rounds.”

“Hm, makes sense. Oh, hey, Nana. If someone uses Innate Energy, can they recover it with something else?”

“What!? You’re talking about using Innate Energy with your body in that state?! If you do that, I swear I’m cutting ties. I won’t even look at you!”

Tang Nana was clearly not in the mood to negotiate.

“No, I didn’t say I was going to use it. But wait — ‘in that state’? What state?”

“What do you mean what?! You’re bruised on top of bruises, you got beaten again, and now you’re trying to learn some intermediate technique? God! Your whole meridian system’s practically shredded! I mean, you didn’t even take the hit evenly — one boob looks like it’s got a yam growing out of it! And you’re asking me if you look injured?! I could just die from the stress.”

“I—I mean, it’s all gonna go down eventually. Just give it time, and everything’ll be back to normal—”

“Oh, sure! Why don’t you chop off your arms and legs while you’re at it? As long as you stick ’em back on before they rot, they’ll heal up, right?!”

Tang Nana glared like she was about to breathe fire.

“...Sorry.”

“Seriously. Just stop getting hurt.”

“...Okay.”

Qing gave a quiet nod.

“So,” Nana asked, “why the sudden curiosity about Innate Energy? Did you pick up another mystery pill somewhere?”

“No, I mean—hypothetically, let’s say there was a martial art like that.”

“Oh, one of those kinds, huh? Well, it really depends on the technique, but yeah — a lot of them let you mix in a little Innate Energy with your regular qi. It makes the flow explode in power. But you’ll tear up your meridians in the process. Your blood vessels’ll pop and swell up like—ugh, never mind. You get the idea.”

Still clearly bitter.

“I said I’m sorry. So what if I rested properly or took some medicine — like a Great Restoration Pill? Could that replenish the Innate Energy?”

“You don’t need something as rare as that. A well-made elixir could help restore it. But here’s the thing—”

Innate Energy wasn’t meant to be drawn on in the first place. It was like a heartbeat, or breathing — the fuel that kept you alive. It sat coiled around the center of the torso, near the heart, in what was known as the middle dantian.

Using it too often loosened the gate that held it in.

“Brand-new doors don’t let in any drafts, right? But open and close them enough, and they start to warp. The hinges get messed up, the paper tears, little holes show up...”

“Can’t you fix the door?”

“Not really. Maybe if you undergo full rebirth. Or hit Transcendent Realm or something. From that point on, your body starts to heal itself, fixing damage and even growing new flesh.”

The classic phenomenon known as Reversal of Age and Vitality.

“Yikes. That sounds bad.”

“You think? Sure, it’s better than dying, but don’t go trying to master something just because it sounds cool. People always wanna use what they have. So don’t learn the technique at all — just carry the pill. Oh, right. Here. Take this.”

Suddenly, Tang Nana pulled out a small lacquered box from her sleeve.

“It’s a Burst Qi Speed Pill. Only lasts for a moment, so don’t waste it. Use it to run when things get dangerous.”

“Ooh. Thanks. You keep giving me stuff.”

“Hm? Hmm. Hmph. If you’re really grateful, don’t just say it with words... Ugh. You had to be injured now, of all times. Fine, I’ll put it on your tab. You owe me.”

“Tab? Owe you what? I thought I was a benefactor of the Tang Clan. Pretty sure that means we’re not running a business here.”

“Ugh!”

Tang Nana made a sour face like she’d bitten into a lemon.

“...Kidding. I mean it. Thank you. For always looking out for me.”

Qing smiled sheepishly, her eyes curving into that soft crescent shape.

And for a moment, Tang Nana just stared — lips parted, completely blank.

“...God. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Hm?”

“No, no! I’m leaving, okay? Just remembered something urgent! I think I left a decoction on the stove. See you next time!”

And with the blazing red sunset pouring down behind her, Tang Nana vanished — poof — without a trace.

Qing was left awkwardly swiping at the empty air where she’d almost reached for her.

“...I was going to ask if she wanted to come with me to Wuming Temple.”

Well, whatever. Looks like I’m going alone.

Clack-clack. Jingle-jingle.

Qing walked off, every step echoing from her Silent Steps as she headed out to deliver the Tathagata’s Palm scroll.

Wuming Temple — once known as Tianzheng Temple — had, in the days of the Northern Song, been one of the four great monasteries in the empire. So renowned, in fact, that it even boasted a nine-story stupa, towering high into the heavens.

But all of it had been swept away in a catastrophic flood.

This was why temples and Daoist sanctuaries were traditionally built on high ground.

Sediment built up. A new temple was built on top. Another flood came and wiped it out again. More earth piled over the ruins... and so on, and so on.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

Eventually, only three stories remained of that once-mighty tower. The rest, along with several older temples, lay buried beneath layers of soil and time. Locals called it cursed land. It was left abandoned for decades.

And so, this place became known as Wuming Temple — the “Nameless Temple.”

The tower that remained atop it was one of Kaifeng’s Two Pagodas — the so-called “Burnished Tower.”

...Why’s everyone staring?

Is there a festival or something?

Oh, right. Of course. A woman in a veiled hat — whose various nicknames were as wildly different as they were widely known — was walking by, swaying her famously massive backside with every step.

The kind of backside that made men stop breathing.

No man could avert his eyes once it entered their field of vision. Enchanted, bewitched, captivated — all they could do was stare.

If this wasn’t worth watching, what on earth was?

Somewhere in the background, it sounded like someone was beating a woodblock. Or maybe silver coins were clinking together. Hard to tell.

By the time Qing reached Wuming Temple, the path behind her was filled with stunned men frozen mid-step, awkwardly reciting scriptures like their lives depended on it.

She’d actually visited here once before, when she’d first arrived in Kaifeng, to see the famed twin towers.

Back then, it was just a dreary ruin.

Now, thanks to the Shaolin monks patching things up and burning incense, it looked and even smelled like an actual temple again.

As soon as she stepped onto temple grounds, an elderly monk in Shaolin’s saffron-orange robes drifted out from nowhere and offered a greeting.

“Amitabha. You must be Benefactor Ximen.”

“Yes. Is Master Muak inside?”

“He said he wouldn’t return for three or four days... but it seems even great monks miscalculate now and then. He’s inside, in the Grand Hall, overseeing his disciples.”

“I see. Then I’ll—”

“Wait. Hmm... The Arhats are in the middle of training in the Grand Hall right now. If they see you, they might fall to temptation. Would you mind waiting in that room over there? I’ll fetch him shortly. Ah... did you complete the secret scroll?”

“Yes. Oh, should I give it to you now? I don’t want to disturb Master Muak if he’s busy.”

The old monk smiled gently.

“What are you saying? How could a humble monk like me send away a guest bearing words of such importance? Please, wait just a moment.”

Since the monk asked so politely, Qing nodded and followed him inside.

But when the monk turned and caught a glimpse of her from behind, he nearly choked.

This monk — Abbot Wolhyeon, the head of Shaolin Temple — thought in a mild panic:

What in the world is with that walk?! If the Arhats see her, we’ll be scraping fallen blossoms off the walls by morning!

In the end, Qing didn’t have to wait long.

The moment Muak heard she had arrived, he dropped everything — even the Arhats — and rushed over.

He looked... less than pleased.

“Hmph. You finished the scroll in one day? I told you to write every character with care — make each stroke beautiful and lasting.”

“Come on. I did write it beautifully! You’ll be shocked when you see it. Even one of the Hanlim Academy instructors couldn’t stop praising my calligraphy.”

“Bah. If you rushed through it in one day, how good could it possibly be— Let me see.”

He took the scroll.

And then stopped.

He hadn’t even opened it yet.

He was frozen, staring at the four characters written on the cover:

Tathagata’s Palm.

That was it — just four characters.

But those four characters were enough to leave him speechless.

What was this?!

Each stroke radiated an awe-inspiring force, as if carved from the heart of Mount Tai itself!

It was calligraphy worthy of legends — the kind of writing that made emperors weep and scholars fall to their knees.

Words people would fight over, even if they had to pay a thousand gold coins.

Shaolin’s ideal was immovability — stillness like a mountain.

Their writing tried to embody that spirit, drawing strength from the image of Mount Tai.

But now...

Now Muak realized that every single inscription in Shaolin’s halls — every sign, every board, every plaque — had been a lie.

He’d been admiring foothills.

This... this was the true Mount Tai.

If they could replace all their signage with this calligraphy, then Shaolin would truly live up to the name of the Mountain and the Big Dipper. It would be an unmatched beacon of martial virtue.

“...Heh! Amitabha! Haah...”

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just... dizzy. I thought I had overcome desire, but I still have a long way to go. I'm nothing but a base mortal.”

Muak whispered the words with a hollow laugh, having just discovered his own lingering greed.

Even the greatest monk in the greatest monastery on earth couldn’t help but covet this writing.

“You wrote this?”

“Yep. Looks good, right?”

“‘Good’ doesn’t begin to cover it. But wait — you filled the whole scroll in a day? Then the inside must be rushed.”

He flipped through the pages—

And froze again.