I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 285: Transcendent Qing (22)

The Green Forest proclaims itself the rightful master of every mountain under heaven.

At least, that’s what they claim.

To the Son of Heaven—acknowledged ruler of all the Central Plains—this would be laughable. But His Majesty is far too lofty to waste emotion on the idiotic boasts of petty mountain bandits. Maybe that’s why there haven’t been many campaigns to wipe them out.

As long as these thugs didn’t rob the government’s storehouses, the authorities rarely bothered sending soldiers after them. After all, the army of the Central Plains is entrusted with the great mandate of defending the realm—not the pitiful duty of public order.

Public order was for the worms. The dirty, low-born masses, who bred like rats and multiplied with little help from anyone. The imperial court, the ministries—none of them had ever truly concerned themselves with such people.

If even half the energy the authorities once spent on hunting down martial artists—before the Heavenly Martial Emperor came—had gone into wiping out the bandits, the Green Forest never would’ve grown into this monster.

But the emperor's priorities were clear.

When Shaolin offered famine relief to the people, their temple was nearly shelled to rubble for their insolence. But mountain bandits preying on commoners? That was beneath the court’s notice.

Had Qing been interested in history back when she was still living in her hometown (not that anyone like that actually exists), she might’ve discovered that the rulers of Zhongyuan have always been oddly indulgent toward bandits.

But Qing didn’t know.

Hell, she barely knew Murim history, let alone the real stuff.

And honestly? That made her completely normal. Ordinary people don’t spend their time thinking about history.

Anyway, the Green Forest had thrived—fed on official neglect and the people's blood. Even during the height of the imperial bureaucracy, they’d gone largely unpunished. And after the rise of the Heavenly Martial Emperor, they entered a golden age.

Which meant that right now, the Green Forest was at the very peak of its power.

So what exactly was the Green Forest?

If Qing had known more, she might’ve compared it to a franchising model.

At the top was the Green Forest Headquarters. Beneath it were eighteen directly-run branch strongholds—known as the Eighteen Strongholds of the Green Forest.

Outside of those, any random bandit group could pay tribute to the headquarters and be granted the right to fly the Green Forest banner. Those were more like privately owned outlets.

Every few years, the Green Forest would rank all its affiliated strongholds by merit. The top fifty-four were granted a special plaque, along with access to martial instructors and various other perks sent directly from headquarters.

Add those fifty-four to the eighteen official branches, and you had the Seventy-Two Strongholds of the Green Forest.

Of course, since those rankings were entirely based on the whims of whoever was in charge, there were plenty of shady entries—strongholds that somehow made the list despite offering no tribute or service, often showing up near the top.

Gam Mountain Stronghold had two signs hanging out front. One simply read “Gam Mountain Stronghold.” The other—more grandiose—declared it to be one of the Twenty-Nine Great Mountain Lords of the Green Forest.

Not that Qing saw any of this.

She’d been wheeled straight inside by carriage, past the fortified outer walls, without even a glimpse of the place’s layout. She didn’t see the signs. And honestly, even if she had, it wouldn’t have changed a thing.

So all she could think now was—

What the hell? Why are all these bandits trained in martial arts?

Just from a glance, their minimum level was second-rate. They had internal energy—some of them practically looked like a formal combat unit. Why the hell would martial artists stoop to banditry?

“I am Bak Sal, the mighty hero who commands this Gam Mountain Stronghold,” announced one man. “I regret that our meeting is under such unfortunate circumstances. May I ask where you ladies hail from?”

...Your name is Bak Sal? Like, literally “Smash”?

But then again, Green Forest types were always like this. They discarded their birth names and took on ones meant to sound more menacing.

Apparently, this guy had chosen "Bak Sal" himself and felt very proud of it.

“What good would it do a pair of thieves to know that?”

Qing snapped back.

Trying to make small talk while holding a good sword in your hand? Not happening.

Bak Sal’s face twitched. “You don’t seem to understand the situation. This really isn’t the time to act so proud.”

He had apparently been quite excited when he’d heard that two stunning women were being brought in. But when they stepped out of the carriage, even he had to admit—they weren’t just beautiful. They were something else entirely.

“You’re the one acting proud. I don’t understand how trash like you, leeches on the world, still manage to breathe. If I were you, I’d bite off my tongue and die before stooping to banditry.”

Bak Sal’s blood pressure visibly rose.

And someone else’s shot through the roof.

“You filthy bitch,” snarled a young man, maybe around Qing’s age. “We were being nice because you’ve got a halfway decent face, but now you’re talking shit about the Green Forest?! Want me to split your legs open?”

Qing gave him a once-over, expression cool.

And zeroed in ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) on the spot that would hurt the most.

“What the hell? Who let the baby speak? The grown-ups are talking, runt. Get some sleep. I hear sleeping more helps you grow taller. You clearly need it, because your balls are the size of a damn chestnut.”

“W-what did you just say, you bitch?!”

“Sir, please! Calm yourself!” Bak Sal quickly stepped in and restrained the youth, bowing apologetically.

Qing’s eyes sharpened.

Sir? Did he just say sir? Is this brat someone important?

So. He’s from a powerful clan and caught consorting with bandits, is he?

Great. Not only is his karma a black pit—he just earned himself a crime of treason.

Now how should I kill him to make the story really memorable?

Bak Sal, meanwhile, was starting to feel a deep sense of dread.

Extreme beauty often meant noble blood.

Noble families had been marrying pretty men and women for generations, after all. So naturally, they produced beautiful offspring—and these two were very obviously not ordinary.

And for one of them to speak so confidently in this situation...

Qing caught the flicker in Bak Sal’s eyes.

That guy’s fast on the uptake. If I don’t crack his skull with my Divine Palm first, he’ll—

“I am Seol Iri, of Binggung,” said Seol Iri suddenly.

Unlike Qing, who was already mentally planning a massacre, Seol Iri was overwhelmed by how tense the situation had become.

“Binggung? The Northern Ice Palace? And this one here?”

“She is Lady Ximen, disciple of the Divine Maiden Sect.”

“Oh? So that’s how it is.”

The young man let out a lecherous chuckle.

“Hah. So the Divine Maiden Sect and the Ice Palace. Ice and Blossoms, huh? That means we’ve got two of the Five Beauties of Murim right here.”

“Sir, please calm yourself—”

“No! If you’re a real man, you’ve got to lay the Five Beauties beneath you at least once in your life! What other day would I get the chance?! Every hole’s getting filled tonight!”

“YEEAAAHHH!”

The bandits erupted into cheers.

From the very beginning, the coachman had brought them here because they looked like clueless, drifting fools.

No one knew they’d been taken to Gam Mountain Stronghold. They could be used, passed around until they broke, and buried when they were no longer entertaining—and no one in the world would ever know.

If they’d belonged to one of the Nine Great Sects or Ten Major Clans, someone would’ve come looking. Those groups scoured the land when their people went missing, and the Green Forest didn’t want to risk that kind of heat.

But the Divine Maiden Sect and the Northern Ice Palace?

The Divine Maiden Sect was a mysterious sect full of exquisite beauties, but not especially dangerous. The Ice Palace? A bunch of shut-ins holed up in the frozen north. What could they possibly do?

Besides, by now, they were already hard.

Sadly, a man’s fate is often to obey his dick over his brain.

And really—when else in life would you get to trample two of the Five Beauties of Murim beneath you?

Especially that tall one—she might’ve been towering, but her face was even more stunning than the other. So this was what the Divine Maiden Sect had been hiding. A beauty who could put even the famed Murim Blossoms to shame. A woman worth dying to fuck.

If he let them go now, he wouldn’t be a man.

The young man puffed himself up and said proudly:

“That’s right. Ten.”

But Seol Iri, having said her piece, clamped her mouth shut.

Qing was watching with vague anxiety, half-wondering if this idiot was about to derail the situation. So she said nothing either.

No one asked him, “Ten what?”

He cleared his throat and continued.

“Give me five sons each. Then I’ll let you go.”

Qing let out a breath of relief.

Thank god. Looked like the conclusion was finally, definitively: they were going to fight.

“Miss Seol.”

“Yes.”

“If it looks like you can’t handle them, run. I can escape no matter what, so make sure you protect yourself. Got it?”

Seol Iri nodded.

At that moment, Qing’s foot slammed into the ground—BOOM!

A wave of bright yellow inner energy rippled out in a perfect circle. The hardened ground caved in like it had taken a direct artillery hit.

Qing moved fast.

Her legs were already far beyond human. Her explosive strength had long since reached the supernatural. Combine that monstrous power with mystic martial arts, and you got something out of legend—inhuman and unstoppable.

Bak Sal jolted as Qing appeared right in front of him. He drew his broadsword in surprise.

As the head of an official Green Forest branch, Bak Sal was a peak-stage martial artist. Even startled, his body reacted instantly on instinct.

A dark-blue sword energy coated the blade, forming a clean, straight arc from heaven to earth.

Qing reached out her hand. Unflinching. She aimed straight for the blade—wrapped in Qi.

Bak Sal gritted his teeth and poured killing intent into the edge. If she was stupid enough to grab it, he’d just slice through every finger.

But crack. The broadsword—bathed in sword Qi—slammed into her palm and stopped cold.

Bak Sal blinked and looked again—only then did he notice a faint, glowing sunset-colored inner energy shielding her skin.

Qing was young. Just past her coming of age, at most. And with a face like that, no one would expect her to wield energy like this.

He realized too late he’d fucked with the wrong person.

“W-wait!”

“Sure thing!”

Even as she shouted back, her other hand shot to her waist and came up holding a gleaming steel dagger. The Blue Porcelain Dagger, its deadly sharpness known throughout the land, sliced upward beneath Bak Sal’s wrist.

“GAH!”

“Oh! That’s a nice broadsword you’ve got.”

Qing pried the weapon from Bak Sal’s bleeding hand, which still refused to let go out of reflex. She flung the severed grip free and tested the weight of the blade.

It was a Bakdo—a large broadsword with a long, curved edge perfect for cleaving. The thick weight at the tip gave it tremendous destructive force.

Its downside? Heavy. The balance point was far from the grip.

But for Qing, that made it perfect.

“W-wait!”

“Yes! Speak! Your! Piece!”

Qing’s shout came in three strikes—each word accompanied by force.

“Yes!” A kick to his shin.

“Speak!” A rising slap that cracked across his bent back.

“Your piece!” She raised the sword high and brought the hilt straight down—CRACK.

That delicious sound of something breaking just right.

This is what she lived for.

Even gripping it with both hands, the Bakdo's long hilt still left space beneath her palms as it crunched into the top of his skull.

When she lifted the blade, white and red matter clung to the metal in long, sticky strands.

Qing wiped it off roughly with her other hand and gripped the blade with purpose.

“Cry out, then! Infernal Hell-Slaying Blade!”

From Qing’s hands burst the form of the Yue Maiden Sword Art.

The sword’s shape, weight, and size didn’t matter. As long as it was in her grip—it was a sword.

She turned, swung wide and horizontal—shoulders twisting, hips rotating—and two of them were cleaved in half by the force.

Clean diagonal cuts. Torsos toppled, thudding to the ground. Four arms, severed just below the shoulders, dropped with them.

It all happened in a blink.

Only then did the Green Forest thugs grasp what was happening.

They’d messed with the wrong women.

This wasn’t a once-in-a-lifetime chance to fuck some legendary beauties.

It was the moment their own bodies would be fucked—by steel.