I Am This Murim’s Crazy Bitch
Chapter 222: Hidden Dragon Martial Arts Competition (4)

Since Cheon Yuhak said he had business today and left abruptly, Qing wondered what to do now and with her characteristic impulsive action, asked around and found a large fabric shop.

She had completely fallen for Cheon Yuhak’s words that there was no point in wrapping herself up if it was hard to endure, so she thought she might find suitable clothing while she was out.

“What kind of clothing are you looking for?”

“I want to buy some cotton cloth. Do you have any fine ones? What’s the highest count you have?”

“Ah, you’ve come to the right place. We just got in some precious 180-count 6-ply goods. How about it, would you like to take a look?”

180 refers to the thickness of the thread, with higher numbers being thinner. 6-ply means how many strands were twisted together.

In other words, the clerk meant cotton cloth woven with six strands of very thin 180-count thread twisted together.

“Oh? You have something like that? Can I see it?”

“Of course.”

180-count 6-ply cotton cloth would be extraordinarily soft just from hearing about it.

When she actually touched the cloth the clerk brought out, it was indeed so light and soft it was almost like silk.

So it was also an ambiguous item.

In that case, it would be better to use silk.

“It’s nice. How much is it? How much do you have?”

At this, the clerk’s expression brightened.

Thinking, a big customer!

Qing, who didn’t know how to save money, bought up all the expensive cotton cloth and wandered among the clothes hanging in the fabric shop.

“Customer, are you looking for a particular style?”

“Just. Looking around.”

Translating “just looking around” means “I’ll look on my own, so please don’t talk to me.”

After the clerk reluctantly withdrew, Qing looked over the clothes.

But how could she know when she had never paid attention to clothes? Looking at thin clothes, they were all too indecent, but her master’s words kept bothering her.

As she wavered like that, suddenly a piece of clothing caught her eye.

Oh, that?

It was clearly stiff hemp clothing at a glance.

“Excuse me, that hemp clothing…”

The clerk who had been watching the big customer with regret rushed over.

“Heheh, it’s an unusual piece, isn’t it?”

The clerk explained that it was an outfit ordered by the wife of some high official, originally made as mourning clothes, but before it was completed, she remarried and left.

It was woven with the highest quality hemp, so they couldn’t throw it away. So they dyed it and hung it up.

“How about it? Isn’t the black beautifully subtle? There’s not a single loose or rough spot in the starched hemp cloth, this shows my dyeing skills. If you have any clothes you want dyed…”

After hearing the explanation, Qing realized it wasn’t clothes for sale but a sign to show off their dyeing skills.

In the Central Plains, black doesn’t mean completely black like in Qing’s homeland.

It refers to dark gray, exactly the color modern mothers would call dark mouse color.

Not completely black, but giving a bright impression while still being dark at its base.

So properly dyed black gives a very beautiful and elegant impression.

While the color was indeed beautiful, that was all, and a thought suddenly crossed Qing’s mind.

Qing’s eyes lit up as she asked:

“That, how much is it?”

Mourning clothes are uncomfortable to wear by origin. There’s no way to outwardly prove the sad and uncomfortable feelings of losing parents, teachers, or even useless rulers.

So mourning clothes were made to clearly show to the world that while the heart may be unknown, at least the body is definitely uncomfortable.

However, because it was dyed so luxuriously, it didn’t feel like mourning clothes at all.

But the discomfort was real.

“Ugh…”

Qing’s idea was simple.

If feeling good was the problem, wouldn’t it be better to get used to feeling bad?

If the soft silkiness gently brushing against her body was too much, wouldn’t it work to wear hemp clothes that scrape the skin?

So with an excited heart, she immediately tried it on, and wow, this is, ow…

Originally hemp fiber is rough and stiff, but when starched and repeatedly rubbed, the stiffness disappears but hook-like edges form on the threads, making it even rougher.

On top of that, it was dyed.

Since the already woven cloth was dyed rather than dyeing the threads before weaving, and the color was preserved with chemicals, it naturally became even rougher.

So the result was closer to a scrubber than fabric, no, even rougher than a scrubber, more like sandpaper used for sanding wood in Qing’s homeland.

It was like wearing clothes made of sandpaper with skin as sensitive as fingertips.

That stinging feeling was like her skin was being scraped off every time she moved.

“This seems, a bit too, extreme from the start.”

But pain is better than the alternative.

Every time she moved, her skin screamed as it was scraped, rather making her mind clear and consciousness sharp.

Moreover, it was suitable clothing for training.

Hemp clothing is originally well-ventilated with air flowing freely through it.

Moreover, because the stiff jacket fell straight when caught on protruding obstacles, there was a space about two fists wide above her belly where air could freely enter and exit.

It seemed worthy of recognition for coolness, especially as it was starting to get warmer.

“Ugh.”

She thought if she could just get used to the uncomfortable, stinging, and burning feeling of wearing it.

According to Cheon Yuhak, there’s no particular training method for reading space with skin sensations.

He said it’s a result that comes from the accumulation of unconsciously built experiences.

If you live for a year or two with air flowing through your skin, you naturally develop a sense of what’s behind you with this flow, and your field of vision opens in all directions.

If you want to shorten that period, the only way is to go around completely naked, so it’s important to wear clothes that allow maximum airflow and go around as many places as possible.

By experiencing places with strong and weak winds, complex places and crowded places, enclosed spaces, etc., you can greatly reduce the time it takes to develop expanded senses through as many experiences as possible.

Of course, this was still far off for Qing.

How could she pay attention to wind or anything else when she couldn’t even get used to her current senses?

As Qing walked around the night streets of Kaifeng, these were her thoughts:

It feels like all my skin has been scraped off. Am I not bleeding? I wish I could just give up and go to sleep.

But even while making faces, she walked around until late at night, so she was somehow managing to endure.

So Qing couldn’t help but feel proud.

Wow, today was fulfilling too.

Almost every moment of life is training, she thought.

This kind of empty pride is close to self-consolation that can’t really be called good.

But it was still much better than an attitude of completely avoiding it by just playing, eating, and enjoying, so you could say it was an improvement from before.

----

The Grand Agenda Meeting was a gathering where the high-ranking members of the Murim Alliance discussed the main future directions of the Alliance.

Although it’s said that anyone can participate in the Grand Agenda Meeting at the Murim Conference, in reality, the truly important agenda items are decided at gatherings like this among themselves.

At this meeting of shadowy figures, Ximen Surin strongly argued:

“How long are we going to leave those Black Market bastards alone? In times when their evil deeds are getting worse by the day, can the righteous orthodox Murim Alliance just leave them be like this?”

As a master of the previous generation, Ximen Surin’s speech was unrestrained.

Perhaps because of this, the expressions of those listening were not bright.

“But senior. The Black Market isn’t just full of completely bad people, is it? How many civilians’ livelihoods depend on it, how can we carelessly intervene and cause trouble?”

The Black Market was a hotbed of all sorts of dirty deals, but it was also a lifeline for peddlers wandering without their own shops.

Encouraged by this, others added their opinions one by one.

Among the Black Market’s customers are many orthodox martial artists, so if it’s eliminated, it will be difficult when trying to avoid the government’s eyes or urgently obtain rare items.

Even the Black Market cooperates willingly when their evil deeds go too far or in cases of martial arts public service. Rather, they have a tight grip on the back alley dwellers, so everything can be grasped at once.

The final point was made by Great Master Wuhak.

“Venerable Ximen, then, what should we do with the Black Market? They’re not people who will stop just because we tell them to, so we can’t lock them up in a repentance hall for guidance, and we can’t kill them all and clean them up either.”

“Hmph. What’s stopping us from killing those degenerates? If you’re going to spout outdated nonsense about not killing-“

“Then how far do you intend to kill? Butchers and meat sellers? Then what about the scope? Those who directly supply, and those who only handle distribution in the middle, are they worthy of death? What about fences? Should we kill robbers who harm people but spare pickpockets who only steal items secretly?”

Ximen Surin frowned deeply.

That damn monk drawling on.

He was a real snake, irritating from his polite speech that he used with everyone.

Why is there a need to set standards for who to save and who to kill when striking down evil people in the first place?

If they catch your eye, they die, and if they’re lucky, they might live. They might get cut down if they can’t break their habits and continue, or in the one-in-a-million chance they change their minds, they might come out into the light.

To begin with, the Murim Alliance isn’t a gathering of divine people who have reached the level of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, so even if they set standards with determination, not everything will be executed.

So how could there be an answer if asked to state the standards here?

It was truly a cowardly way of speaking.

So she could only sigh deeply and make threats.

“If we avoid uncomfortable things, a big disaster will eventually break out. They’re becoming more and more unrestrained, so they’ll cause a big incident someday, and once it happens, it will be too late. Tsk. At that time, the disgrace, nevermind the disgrace, how will we deal with the public sentiment under heaven?”

“If they cross the line, we can punish them then. Why would the public blame us for evil deeds that the orthodox martial arts world didn’t order?”

The conclusion was rejection.

“Tsk.”

Ximen Surin clicked her tongue.

This is why she didn’t want to come to the Murim Conference.

Regardless, the Grand Agenda Meeting continued.

“Then the next agenda item is the matter mentioned by Master Cheonbija. Regarding the opening of the Uijeong Martial Arts Hall…”

----

On the second day of the Murim Conference, the Hidden Dragon Martial Arts Competition schedule included matches for Groups 2 and 4.

Qing took a seat in the audience, due to Ximen Surin’s opinion to watch the Shaolin disciple Wolbong’s match.

The intention was to prepare for the semi-final match by seeing Shaolin’s martial arts, said to be the best under heaven, in advance.

To her right was Jegal Ihyeon in charge of commentary, and to her left was Tang Nanah in charge of friendship.

And on her lap, Jegal Hyang in charge of cuteness had settled in perfectly.

For Qing, it was an unrivaled composition with left and right protection and a pet.

However.

“Ugh.”

Jegal Hyang was a young girl who would be considered a child even by Korean standards, so the martial arts competition didn’t seem particularly interesting to her.

Sitting on Qing’s lap, she kept swinging her feet and squirming, unable to stay still, so the already sandpaper-like fabric roughly rubbed against Qing’s skin as if scraping it off.

As Qing let out a painful groan, Jegal Hyang bent her waist backwards, tilted her head up and asked:

“Gaga unnie, am I heavy? Ah, it’s soft.”

Jegal Hyang swung back and forth, repeatedly bumping the back of her head.

Qing’s heart sank at the sight, what on earth is this adorable creature? How can it be like this?

“No. Hyang is light. But, is Hyang not having fun?”

“Mm… A little. Yaaawn.”

And then she let out a big yawn.

Qing brightened at this and hugged Jegal Hyang’s body, letting her lean against her.

Right. It would be better if she slept a bit.

If she squirms, it scrapes.

“Then why don’t you take a nap? Lean comfortably.”

“But I’m not sleepy…”

Though she said that, before long Jegal Hyang fell asleep.

Children usually fall asleep quickly.

As Qing watched the matches with a more comfortable attitude, she suddenly tilted her head.

“Was it Hero Wang? Was he always like that?”

“The chair changed, right? I heard they got a new one after the chair broke at the end of the preliminaries. Originally, chairs are strange weapons strong against blades, so they’re naturally weak against blunted swords used for matches.”

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

Qing looked at Hero Wang, the martial artist using a chair.

He used an unusual weapon so he was memorable, his righteous karma was three or four or anyway in the single digits, but what did he do to suddenly become such a bad guy, she thought.

***

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