I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 255: The Appearance of the Divine Dragon (11)

“Yes... it was always fishy,” she muttered, eyes narrowed. “Calling them ‘ronin’ is putting it politely. Beggars, vagrants, drunkards, flea-bitten mutts rolling in from nowhere—that would’ve been more accurate. So how did these rootless nobodies make it into the finals of the Dormant Dragon Tournament? How are they racking up these miraculous wins?”

She mumbled to herself like a lunatic.

Of course, she insisted that voicing one’s deductions aloud was the hallmark of a true sage.

“No, impossible. This has to be a covert operation. Some hidden faction’s attempt to infiltrate the orthodox martial world. Yes, that must be it. Which means it falls to me—me, Hyunhwa Sima—to expose this vile conspiracy and let my brilliance shine across the world. Yes. Precisely.”

Her motives might’ve been suspect, but her deductions? Dead on.

So she dolled herself up, put on a full face of makeup, and headed into town. From outside the shabby little eatery called “Yuyu Noodles,” she could already hear the raucous laughter echoing inside.

“A seduction strategy,” she whispered solemnly. “Yes... the feminine intellect must sometimes endure humiliation to outmaneuver fools. Let’s go, Lady Sima. It’s time to enlighten the ignorant masses with the radiance of wisdom.”

A passing child overheard and tugged his mother’s sleeve.

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“Mommy, that lady’s muttering to herself.”

“Shhh. Some people have... conditions. Such a pretty girl, too—what a shame.”

Regardless, Sima Chunbong steeled her resolve and reached for the curtain at the diner entrance—then hesitated.

“Wait... what is this? This isn’t right. No way. Is this a trap? Who in their right mind eats in a place that looks like a pigsty? This is a restaurant? It’s gotta be a front. A cover business for something shady. Highly suspicious.”

She paused, deeply uncertain.

She'd heard tales of commoners surviving an entire month on a single silver tael, but still—even the poorest, dumbest, filthiest peasants of Zhongyuan surely wouldn’t eat in a place like this?

“No... I can do this. I must do this.”

For the peace of Murim.

More importantly—for the glory of Hyunhwa!

“There’s no such thing as a risk-free mission.”

With that sweeping declaration, Sima Chunbong, in a bold and heroic act of national sacrifice, gingerly lifted the greasy curtain with the tip of her fan, taking care not to let it touch her body, and infiltrated the suspicious noodle shop.

Inside, the ronin had clearly rented out the entire place. As soon as she stepped in, every eye in the room swiveled toward her.

It didn’t help that the lower half of her body had been visible through the curtain for a while, hesitating in the doorway—so everyone had already been glancing over to see who the hell was standing there.

Then she entered.

A gorgeous woman—admittedly with a rather sharp, feral glare and pupils like black beans—appeared before them. The ronin collectively gawked.

Basking in the attention, Sima Chunbong offered a graceful bow.

“Oh my. The warriors of the Dormant Dragon Tournament whose reputations are... well, not exactly famous yet, but could become so someday. Not quite heroes... maybe not even knights... young swordsmen, perhaps?”

The ronin looked at each other with vaguely confused expressions.

Was she picking a fight...?

“Pardon me, miss, but who might you be...?”

“Oh, me? I’m Sima. Among the more perceptive martial circles, they call me Hyunhwa, the Wise Blossom.”

And then—

“Zhinang Hyeonhwa!”

“Sima Chunbong!”

“Triple-Trait Beauty!”

Sima Chunbong’s eye twitched.

The only acceptable parts of those shouts were “Hyunhwa,” “Sima,” and “Beauty.”

“Triple-Trait Beauty” was one of her many unofficial nicknames—one she hated. It implied that she was excellent at three specific things, when clearly she was perfect at everything. It should’ve been “Omni-Trait Beauty” or “Total Package,” not just three. Besides, of those three traits, one was her intelligence—and the other two were... unmentionable slanders.

There were other minor nicknames, but she pretended not to hear them. Sima Chunbong had a well-honed habit of mentally erasing anything she didn’t like.

“You flatter me. Just ‘Hyunhwa’ will do. Or ‘Miss Sima,’ if you prefer.”

The eldest among the unaffiliated warriors, Ma Yeongjeon—a master of Ground Crushing Palm—stepped forward as their representative.

“Hmm. No offense, but... are you really the Sima Chunbong? You seem... different from what we heard.”

“Well. That’s quite the insult.”

Sima sniffed and continued.

“I’m soon to be an official member of the righteous Murim, so what reason would I have to lie? If you still doubt me, feel free to visit the Military Affairs Division and request an audience with the Vice Deputy Strategist. Though... commoners like you may find that a bit beyond your station.”

“Hmm. Doesn’t quite match the description, but that sharp tongue—yes, you’re definitely Sima.”

The rumors had described her as a venom-tongued beauty, and she fit the bill.

Not only did she talk like a villainess, she even looked like one.

The most recognizable features could be changed, sure—but her personality? No mistaking it.

“So, then... what brings a lady like you to our humble gathering of nobodies?”

Clearly, the ronin weren’t exactly thrilled to see her.

Sima Chunbong blinked.

What was happening? Shouldn’t they be kneeling at her feet, ready to lick her boots?

In truth, it was all Qing’s fault.

Ever since they’d been exposed to Qing’s absurd, almost alien beauty, none of them were impressed anymore. If this had been before, they might’ve gone “Wow, she’s got an attitude, but she’s hot, so whatever.” But now? They’d seen better—and were friends with her. Sima’s charms just didn’t land the same.

“Ahem. My manner of speech may be a little blunt—please forgive me. Truth tends to have a bitter taste, you know.”

“Ahem.”

“Well then! I came to celebrate your promotion into the ranks of the righteous martial world! A classic rags-to-riches tale—dragons rising from gutters, as they say. And with any luck, you’ll rise even further. The odds are low, of course.”

Her delivery was awful, but hey—she said she came to celebrate, so it would’ve been rude to completely brush her off.

Besides, this was Zhinang Hyeonhwa. A rising candidate for Chief Strategist of the Murim Alliance. Could be good to make friends.

Ma Yeongjeon glanced around, signaling the other ronin.

They nodded in agreement.

“Pardon the humble surroundings.”

“Oh, certainly. Quite humble indeed.”

“...”

And then, despite everything, Sima Chunbong graciously approached and began personally pouring drinks for everyone.

Her words might have been brash, but her actions were polite, and her face was undeniably beautiful. When a refined noblewoman approached and poured drinks herself, any lingering bitterness from that first impression melted away.

This must be what it feels like to finally be somebody, they thought. To be recognized by the righteous Murim.

So when she raised her glass and made a surprisingly ordinary toast—“To all of our bright futures”—they all knocked their drinks back in unison.

Until—

“Ah! Stop, everyone, put your glasses down! This wine is sour, reeks of filth, and tastes absolutely appalling! I’d rather drink dog piss. This has to be poisoned!”

There was no way the drink had suddenly become poisoned—they’d been drinking it all along.

“...Apologies. It’s cheap.”

“Oh dear heavens. Truly. What kind of tragic life must one lead to willingly swallow such a foul, festering sewer of a beverage? This isn’t wine—it’s a public health hazard.”

“...”

At that, the ronin started to regret ever letting her join them.

Should’ve just told her to get lost and drank in peace.

But that regret was short-lived.

“Haa... I see there’s no helping it. Tonight, I—Hyunhwa herself—will show you what real wine tastes like. You poor, uncultured, unrefined young warriors deserve to experience something worthy of the human palate. First, let’s abandon this pigsty and go somewhere civilized.”

Her words were as horrible as ever—but it was still a declaration of, “Drinks are on me.”

The ronin erupted in cheers.

Sima Chunbong smiled wickedly.

As expected—low-born, uneducated, and hopelessly simple.

Now, she thought, it’s time to dig out the truth behind the incident.

****

And dig she did.

Not that it helped much. The ronin didn’t have loose lips—they had trained ones. Almost everything they shared was nine parts praise for Qing, carefully rehearsed and agreed upon in advance.

Still, when a beautiful woman was buying you expensive drinks and food, and you wanted to sing someone’s praises anyway...

Well, when the hand’s already raised, you might as well slap the cheek, right?

“This is top-secret, but...” they whispered, eyes gleaming.

As usual, Gongsun Yoye seemed busy today.

Meanwhile, Namgung Shinjae and the Peng siblings had never once been busy in their lives. Especially when Shinjae and Peng Choryeo got together—sparring and training always hit a fever pitch. By sunset, Qing was already soaked with sweat.

Tang Nana, neither quite free nor especially busy, tossed her a cotton towel with a grumble.

“Haa... she’s still doing that? Doesn’t she ever go home? She’s walking fine now, isn’t she?”

Moyong Juhee was still huddled by the wall, her head buried between her knees.

Her toenails hadn’t fully grown back yet, but the Tang clan’s miracle medicine had worked wonders. Even losing four molars—one from each corner—wasn’t all that noticeable.

Ximen Surin had said Juhee’s family should probably be informed, but Qing had vetoed that.

Some things, she’d said, people don’t want to share—even more so with family.

Surin, clearly touched by her disciple’s empathy, had simply stroked her hair and murmured how proud she was.

Tang Nana, however, wasn’t so moved.

Sure, she’d gone through hell, and sure, she was traumatized—but what gave her the right to take it out on other people? On her chest, of all places.

Then again... maybe it was because Qing’s chest had a sword-shaped scar that Juhee had targeted it.

Qing gave an awkward laugh.

“Mmm? ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) Don’t be like that. Moyong Lady is still hurting.”

“Hmph. How about you baby me like that sometime?”

“You’re way past that stage. We’re old friends now, Nana. What, you want us to act all stiff and formal again? We’ve eaten together, bathed together, slept together... we’ve done everything.”

“...Ahem. Well, when you put it that way...”

Tang Nana turned away, flustered.

How could Qing say things like that with a straight face?

Qing, meanwhile, found her mind drifting.

Tang Nana was one of the Five Beauties of Murim. So was Moyong Juhee.

Jinseol was... let’s just say not shy about showing skin.

Seol Iri was someone she wanted to get closer to, but the opportunity hadn’t come yet...

That made four.

“Hmm. Speaking of the Five Beauties... I haven’t met Hyunhwa yet. What’s she like?”

“Huh? Too much of a good thing.”

“‘Too much is as bad as too little’? That’s her reputation? Why?”

“No, no—that’s literally one of her nicknames.”

“What... is she too good at something? What’s overflowing?”

“Boobs. Her chest is huge.”

Tang Nana mimed wrapping her arms around a tree trunk. Her fingertips didn’t quite meet.

“What? Seriously?”

“That’s what I heard. She hates it, though—keeps them strapped down so tight she can barely breathe. I’ve only seen them twice, and even then, with her clothes on, it’s not that obvious.”

Then she added with a smirk:

“They call her the ‘Triple-Trait Beauty.’ Her brain’s one of them. The other two... let’s just say she doesn’t like people pointing them out. She always tells people to just call her ‘Hyunhwa’—she hates the ‘Zhinang’ part.”

“Wait, wait. Just how big are we talking?”

How big must they be to inspire that kind of reputation?

God. She wanted to see them.

She wanted to see them so bad.

Qing swallowed hard.