I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 254: The Appearance of the Divine Dragon (10)

They said it took ten years to speak it properly, ten more to read it, and ten more to write it.

That’s why even the scholar monks of Shaolin only began studying Sanskrit scriptures after their hair turned gray.

And yet now, a twenty-year-old girl had written it—cleanly and with precision.

Was she some lost princess from Tianzhu?

Her eyes were huge, like they might pop right out of her face if you so much as tapped her—did that give her a vaguely foreign look? Maybe. But her skin was pale as snow. No way she came from there.

“Ah, was I not supposed to use Sanskrit? But I added annotations for every sentence...”

She’d written the original in Sanskrit, with classical Chinese notes in the margins.

The Sanskrit itself was crisply written, each character distinct and legible, impossible to confuse. The Chinese annotations, each character full of strength and motion, seemed to ripple off the page.

The uniformity and precision of her tiny handwriting, like it had been typeset by a master artisan, was in itself a marvel to behold.

Still, Muak’s expression tightened as he scanned the content.

“You didn’t sign your name.”

“Wouldn’t it be strange to carve an outsider’s name into a legacy you said you’d pass down for generations?”

She smiled slightly as she said it, and Muak felt himself flush with embarrassment.

She wasn’t even interested in the honor of having her name etched into Janggyeonggak as a benefactor of Shaolin.

Muak had seriously considered asking her to inscribe a tablet on the spot. What was a name, really, that it could tempt him into such vanity?

Of course, Qing simply didn’t know any better.

She hadn’t acquired this technique through proper means in the first place. Writing her name down would’ve been more awkward than anything.

“Here. Write this down: ‘Disciple of the Divine Maiden Sect, Ximen Qing, passes on this technique to Shaolin through fateful connection, aiding in its restoration.’”

Muak handed her a fine-brush pen and a travel-sized ink flask and urged her to write.

Qing finally gave in, and as she began to write, Muak found himself transfixed by the solemn splendor of her calligraphy, each stroke unfolding before his eyes like a ceremony.

When she finished, Muak straightened his robes, dropped to his knees, and received the book with both hands in a formal bow of gratitude.

Qing, startled, bowed in return.

For that moment, at least, it was a truly reverent exchange.

“Here—take this. A Great Restoration Pill. I brought only one in case of emergency, but I’ll send the rest to the Divine Maiden Sect later.”

“Hehe, you really didn’t have to...”

She still slipped it right into her robes without hesitation. Then, as if a thought suddenly struck her—

“Oh, right. Isn’t Shaolin closed to women?”

“Would you like to see the temple? I’m afraid the rules are strict. Even I cannot bend them.”

Muak looked genuinely apologetic.

But rules were rules. No matter how great the benefactor, he couldn’t trample the temple’s greatest precepts just for hospitality’s sake.

“No, I mean—does that mean women aren’t allowed to see the Sword Wall either?”

“Ah, the Sword Wall? That’s not a problem. Grandmaster Mucheondae had it engraved on the southern peak, separate from the temple. It was his way of making it accessible. Come anytime—just say the word, and we’ll guide you.”

Muak’s face brightened.

Shaolin was on the northern peak of Mount Song, but the southern peak was unrestricted. After all, they couldn’t very well forbid women from the entire mountain.

“Thank you for the consideration.”

“No need. A legacy like that ought to be shared with a promising dragon of the righteous sects.”

Follow current novℯls on ƒгeewёbnovel.com.

****

The Military Affairs Division of the Murim Alliance was where all the brains of the organization gathered.

In theory, military affairs referred to command and strategy—tactical deployment of forces and such—but the martial world was so absurdly peaceful nowadays that no one needed any of that.

So, in reality, it was just a bunch of smart people running the paperwork behind the scenes.

At the top of the division sat the Chief Strategist.

Beneath the Chief Strategist were the Strategist’s Deputy and Vice Strategist. Under them were the Deputy Vice Strategist and various secretarial staff.

And currently serving as the Vice Deputy Strategist of the Murim Alliance was none other than the infamous Zhinang Hyeonhwa, also known as Sima Chunbong.

The name meant "Wise Flower with a Pouch of Knowledge."

She was a female genius so brilliant that people said she carried all the wisdom of the world in her head. Others, like the elite members of the Yongbong Assembly, had less flattering things to say—too smug, hard to talk to, annoying as hell.

Also, her name sounded old-fashioned.

Still, even without politics in the mix, the Military Affairs Division largely agreed with those assessments.

They often complained that she was insufferably arrogant—but also treated her like a beloved daughter or little sister.

Granted, they all thought her name was a bit outdated.

Sima Chunbong, for her part, firmly denied being arrogant.

She had never once in her life tried to show off.

Sima Chunbong felt wronged.

She wasn’t bragging—her brilliance just radiated out of her involuntarily. It was the burden of genius!

After all, how could ordinary folk understand a prodigy?

She would simply have to endure.

Thus, the peerless young genius (in her own opinion) and ultra-beauty (also in her own opinion), Sima Chunbong, was once again diligently doing work no one had asked her to do—like investigating the recent string of murders in Kaifeng caused by a “chain-reaction suicide of loneliness.”

In her view, it was obviously part of a vast and malicious conspiracy designed to plunge the peaceful martial world into chaos.

The Vice Strategist of the Murim Alliance called out while she was still lost in thought.

“Hey, Chunbong. Did you finish reorganizing the arena seating for the finals?”

Sima Chunbong slowly turned her head.

“Oh my. A butterfly?”

“I asked if the seating’s done—”

“This summer must be unusually hot. The butterflies are already out of strength... the heat wave will engulf the land, and the people shall weep. What a tragedy...”

“Haah. Dammit. Sima. Chun. Bong. Is the arena seating done?”

Only then did Sima Chunbong bother to respond.

“Oh my. Did you really think I’d waste even a split second of my brilliance on such menial logistics? It’s already finished and submitted—feel free to check.”

“That so? If you’ve wrapped everything up, then maybe work on the wager allocations. Or go home. Why are you loitering here?”

“Vice Strategist, I wanted to look further into the Kaifeng serial killings.”

“I told you to drop that case. Do you seriously have that little to do? Then at least go hang out with your peers in the Yongbong Assembly. Make a friend, maybe. You’re not being bullied or anything, are you?”

“Hmph. I simply choose not to associate with them. Why would a phoenix stoop to mingle with sparrows?”

“That’s elitism.”

“Elitism? I’m an extremely down-to-earth genius with no such conceits. Of course, the dull-witted can’t recognize excellence even when it stands right in front of them.”

The Vice Strategist let out a long, deep sigh.

“Chunbong.”

“Oh my, look how the leaves are already drooping. What a brutal summer this shall be...”

“Sima. Chun. Bong.”

“Yes, you called?”

“If you’ve got nothing better to do, go wash your feet and take a nap.”

Sima Chunbong shrieked in protest.

“Excuse me!? I’m in the middle of volunteering to solve the Kaifeng serial killings! I—Sima Chunbong, the dazzling, unparalleled strategist of Hyunhwa—will crack this wide open!”

“Wow. You sure know how to leave out every word anyone hates to hear. And you do realize the Chief Strategist is still alive, right? You saying that makes it sound like you’ve staged a coup.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Either way, I said it’s over. We’re in the middle of the Martial Tournament—what good would come of stirring up trouble now? It was just the Lonely Queen self-destructing repeatedly. Case closed.”

“But! What if there’s a sinister force pulling strings behind the scenes—!”

“It was Blood Sect. We confirmed that—”

“A massive conspiracy!”

“We destroyed their covert agents and forced them to withdraw—”

“A perfect chance to raise the banner of Hyunhwa Sima Chunbong to glory!”

“Exactly. You only care about self-promotion. Hmph. Anyway, the Chief Strategist already cleared this with the Lord of the Alliance. Case is shut.”

Truthfully, the Vice Strategist didn’t expect her to listen. She never did.

“Hmph. Investigating in my personal time isn’t against the rules, is it? I’ve already found a lead. I’ll solve this case with flair, clarity, and above all, genius!”

“It’s already solved! Wait, what? A lead?”

Sima Chunbong flashed a triumphant grin and declared boldly:

“That’s right! Just watch me! I’ll expose every last detail of this case—beautifully, thoroughly, and magnificently!”

There was no stopping her once she got going.

The Vice Strategist could only sigh again, long and deep.

****

Chapter Two:

Zhang Eun-chae, leader of the Black Dot Syndicate, ground her teeth in fury at the imposter pretending to be Eon Yeonyeong.

But she had no time to act on her grudge—bad news kept coming in nonstop.

“Fucking hell! Now what the hell is this ‘White Dot’ shit!? Have those demonic cult bastards lost their minds?! What the fuck is this game!?”

The Black Dot branches in the northern and western regions of Gansu had been completely wiped out. Just like that, the group calling themselves White Dot swooped in and claimed the territory.

Their logic was terrifyingly simple.

White Dot protects merchants.

White Dot protects customers.

White Dot executes human trash.

They dragged out slavers, smugglers, and dealers of human flesh—stripped them naked, chained them in public squares, and carved their crimes into their chests.

Labels like “Slaver,” “Fence,” “Cannibal,” “Hitman-for-Hire.”

Passersby tossed stones, branded them with hot irons, or beat them for fun.

As a result, the black markets of the northwest were nearly annihilated.

When Black Dot tried to retaliate—how dare these freaks challenge their authority!—they sent in money and muscle.

But that’s when famous demonic sect masters suddenly emerged from the shadows. The entire counterattack was crushed without even knocking over a single banner.

So yes, it was the work of the demonic cult.

Not that they were trying to hide it.

With the southeast already lost, now the northwest of Zhongyuan had fallen too. Black Dot was crumbling.

“If there are no black markets, why would anyone bother coming to us? If you just want a regular market stall, you go to the town square. Who the hell would trek out to White Dot for that!?”

Zhang Eun-chae screamed.

The Black Markets thrived because they dealt in banned, rare, or dangerous goods—items the government wouldn’t allow.

Or so she’d thought.

“Actually, business is booming. Turns out people like being treated with respect. White Dot territory enforces strict rules—even martial artists have to behave as customers, or else the Demonic Heaven Church won’t tolerate them. Merchants are flocking in—and wherever the merchants go, the customers follow.”

White Dot protects merchants.

White Dot protects customers.

White Dot executes human trash—and that includes scammers and thieves who run off with goods unpaid.

As neutral enforcers for both sides, they guaranteed clean, safe, and comfortable transactions.

It was hard to say whether the merchants attracted the customers, or the other way around—but either way, the markets were thriving.

“FUCK! Why!? Why me!? Why is this happening to me!?”

“I think you should lay low for a while. Rumor has it there are assassins actively hunting you...”

Every job carries a risk of failure.

But taking on jobs you’re guaranteed to fail—that’s fraud. It’s a trap.

And now Zhang Eun-chae had officially made it onto the kill list.

“Haah... Fuck. You think I’m going down that easy? I clawed my way up from the gutter and became the Black Dot Boss. I’m not dying like this. Fine—I’ll keep my head down for now, but the moment I see an opening? Just you wait.”

Zhang Eun-chae muttered darkly, a glint of madness flickering in her eyes.

Whether that opportunity would ever come... was anyone’s guess.