I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 233: Even a Ronin Has the Loyalty of a Ronin (6)

To Gyeong Damgan, true beauty was despair.

That blank, lifeless gaze of someone whose will had shattered—lost in disappointment and ruin—that was what gave human beings their purpose.

But beauty is always rare.

People who break after a bit of pain? They’re good for a moment’s entertainment at best. He’d seen too many of them. After so much “artistic” experience, his threshold had risen, and they just didn’t hit like they used to.

Just like that one now.

If this hadn’t been part of a mission, he would’ve thrown her out ages ago—absolute bottom-tier garbage.

But work and pleasure were different. And when the two overlapped, it was always the hobby that had to compromise.

Then she showed up.

Not just top-shelf—beyond premium. Absolute perfection.

The kind of subject who made him wonder: How do I sculpt this into something that will scream despair in the most exquisite way?

That was all Gyeong Damgan could think about.

He already had the ending in mind.

A woman’s spirit usually collapsed the moment her chastity was defiled.

If she were humiliated all day long by the very rogue scum she tried so hard to protect, what kind of reaction would that provoke?

Everyone breaks differently.

Would the Divine Maiden Sect disciple sob quietly?

Scream in agony?

Or maybe just sit there with lifeless eyes, a hollow shell of who she used to be?

“Khrrrk.”

Just imagining it made Gyeong Damgan giggle with perverse joy.

But before that, how should he wear her down?

She was a freak who’d endured the agony of a Gu parasite’s venom without flinching. Clearly, physical pain wouldn’t break her.

So how could he crack her mind?

He needed to dangle a faint thread of hope—just enough to stop her from giving up, while slowly rotting her soul from the inside out...

He had just taken off his pants and was deep in fantasy when—

SLAM!

The door burst open and a subordinate ran in.

“Vice Lord! You have to come see—huh!?”

The poor bastard froze, struck dumb by a cosmic horror no one should ever have to witness.

“You...!”

Gyeong Damgan flew at him, grabbed his throat, and twisted.

Interrupting him during this moment? And seeing him like that?

The penalty was death.

“Guh...”

As consciousness faded, the subordinate thought:

Fucking hell. This piece of shit is choking me with those same hands that can’t even get it up—fuck, just stab me instead...

The now-ex-subordinate was thrown aside like garbage, and Gyeong Damgan slammed the door shut and locked it behind him.

Frankly, he never should’ve left it open in the first place.

As a result, only the Blood Sect guards were left to suffer.

“When is the Vice Lord coming?”

“We sent the rookie, he’ll be here any moment.”

“That was forever ago! Why’s he still not back?!”

The rookie sent to call the Vice Lord never returned. And the Vice Lord himself hadn’t been heard from since.

“Aaaagh!”

The Blood Sect guards stood around panicking, helpless.

The trouble started with breakfast.

“Get up, wench!”

“Ugh... My whole body aches from sleeping on the cold floor. Barely got any sleep. What now?”

Qing grumbled, despite having slept like a rock all night.

Meanwhile, the guard who’d stood watch and listened to her peacefully breathing—and occasionally snoring with cute little squeaks—was seething.

“Here. Breakfast.”

“Oooh. Breakfast the moment I wake up? I like that. So, what is it? Something good?”

Qing was always polite to the person serving her food.

Because if you were rude, who knew what they’d put in your next meal?

“How relaxed. Guess you don’t take us seriously at all. Here. Rice ball. Take it.”

“Rice ball...”

Qing eyed the guard.

It was big. Chunky. That part she liked.

But there was no soup. No side dishes. Nothing.

Still, breakfast was breakfast.

“Thanks for the meal.”

Qing reached out through the bars, fingers outstretched, just about to grasp the rice ball with her graceful hand—

Plop.

The rice ball was deliberately dropped.

It fell in a slow arc and splattered across the cold underground floor.

“...Huh?”

“Keh keh keh. What, did you think this was a fucking diner? Look. That’s your future.”

The guard stomped on the rice ball.

The poor thing was crushed flat—now just soggy trash on the floor.

“That’s all you’ll ever get to eat. Kehh... But damn, you really are the prettiest girl in the world.

What do you say? Want to take a bite?”

When Qing reached for the rice ball, the guard sneered at her.

Her hand kept moving.

Suddenly, it twisted mid-air, left an afterimage—and clamped onto his ankle.

“Huh? What the—?”

Before the guard could react, Qing’s other hand shot out and grabbed his opposite ankle.

“You little shit. Playing games with food first thing in the morning?

You know what I hate the most? Bastards who mess with food.”

“Let—let go! What kind of strength is this...?!”

The panicking guard tried to pull back, but his legs wouldn’t budge.

It was like they’d been cemented to the ground.

Not surprising, considering it was Qing holding him.

“Hey. What do you think happens if I just keep pulling?”

Qing was sitting cross-legged, leaning forward, both arms extended through the bars and gripping the guard’s legs.

Between her arms, a thick iron bar stood like a guillotine.

The color drained from the guard’s face. He went for the sword at his waist—

But Qing suddenly rolled backward, yanking his legs in with her.

BANG!

His legs shot forward like cannonballs.

And his groin smashed into the iron bar with a sickening crack.

His eyes rolled back. Foam bubbled at his lips.

But that was just the beginning.

Qing began massaging his feet—like giving a relaxing rub.

Her grip slid up his calves, then thighs.

Crunch. Crack. Snap.

The bones shattered like dried squid, limp and useless.

“GAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Qing trembled with joy at the feeling of raw bone grinding under her fingers.

God. How long had it been?

This—this was living. Better than she remembered. Better than she imagined.

Grinning viciously, she murmured,

“Shhh. Sir, you’ve got serious tension in your legs.

If you don’t loosen up, you’ll keep walking around when you should be resting.

Humans should sit or lie down once in a while, you know?”

“AAAAAAAARGH!!!”

Finally, both his legs were crushed into powder.

Qing twisted them together like tying a bow.

“GYAAAAAHHH!!!”

It hadn’t even been a full keok before the guard’s voice went hoarse from screaming.

The sound of his agony drew Blood Sect guards running from all directions.

“What the hell are you doing?! Let go—LET—AAAGH!”

The Blood Sect martial artist, startled, rushed in to pull the prison guard free—

Only to have his wrist caught mid-movement.

Next thing he knew, his head slammed into the iron bars, and Qing’s expert bone-massage grip had already softened his arms. They wrapped twice around the bars before twisting inward, trapping him in a sloppy bind.

With that, the rest of the Blood Sect goons didn’t dare get close.

One of them—the youngest, just promoted thanks to attrition—got kicked in the shin and was told to go get the Vice Lord, now, before scrambling off like his ass was on fire.

And now—

“Would you like your hostage back? Then let this girl pass along her order: one heaping plate of stir-fry with lots of meat, two bowls of freshly steamed white rice. As for soup... hmm, something light and clear, perhaps? What does the house chef do best?”

“Shut your damn mouth! Right now—!”

“Wow. Service here sucks. Fine, then. I’ll go with a clear fish broth. Make it hearty—slow-boiled river fish. In exchange, I’ll return your hostage. That’s the final offer. One meat-loaded dish, two bowls of white rice, one hot and clear fish soup.”

In Qing’s ears, it sounded like she was hearing two kinds of voices.

The Blood Sect guys losing their minds.

And their stomachs exploding.

“That insane bitch—what kind of lunatic even is she? Where the hell did they find her? What about the Vice Lord?!”

“He, uh... the rookie’s corpse is lying at the door...”

The second youngest, now the new rookie, delivered the news.

“That’s what you’re worried about?! Then why the hell haven’t you brought him yet?! MOVE IT!!”

Fucking hell, the new rookie cursed silently. Why do I always get stuck with this shit?

Still, he dashed off again.

Not that he intended to knock on the door or anything—he figured he’d just wait out front and hope it opened on its own.

Naturally, the second rookie didn’t return either.

“My, my. How long has it been since I placed my order, and still no news? Is the chef starting from scratch—planting rice seedlings first? At this rate, I’ll be old before I eat!”

“Shut the hell up!”

“Oh dear, so scary. I’m trembling all over, and it feels like my fists might just fly. Look—my hands are shaking~”

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

And with that, Qing grabbed the bound martial artist by the hair and slammed his head into the bars.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

Each impact came with a scream. It was practically musical.

But when she felt a distinct crack run through the skull, Qing went, Oops, and let go.

The iron bars gleamed red under the lamplight.

“W-what do we do? The Vice Lord, we need him—!”

“Fuck it! Just give her what she wants! Get her the food!”

And so, at last, Qing got her satisfying breakfast.

She gently placed the tray—delivered through the cell’s feeding hatch—down inside and approached the two Blood Sect goons still bound to the bars.

“Still... thanks for the fun. In your next life, try being decent. Maybe you won’t end up like this.”

Her hand darkened—CRACK!—and the first martial artist’s head burst like a watermelon.

His headless corpse slumped down the bars, legs still tangled and tied.

The half-crushed, sniveling eunuch guard—still tangled beneath him—jerked in panic but couldn’t even scream from the pain in his shattered legs. He just opened his mouth and gaped.

“W-WAIT! You promised you’d return the hostage!”

“Did I? Nooo, I asked if you wanted them back.”

Qing said it with a straight face, crouching down and raising the Black Water Palm of her Black Slaying Demonic Palm technique.

The other Blood Sect martial artist—his legs still twisted up—locked eyes with her in terror.

“Please, please don’t—!”

“Three hundred and fifty points.”

“What does th—?”

CRACK!

Another headless corpse slumped forward, its torso thudding as it dangled from the bars by its twisted legs.

Qing reached up to wipe her face, then paused. Instead, she pulled her sleeve across her cheek to clean off the mess.

“Whew. That hits the spot. Gotta get the blood pumping if you want a good appetite.

Can’t just roll out of bed and eat, you know?”

She turned back toward the tray she’d set aside and began eating her breakfast.

And despite it all, her elegance shone through—the refined posture of the Ximen Surin School’s Noblewoman Etiquette—making the scene surreal.

A peerless beauty, calmly having breakfast after committing a double execution.

The Blood ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) Sect martial artists could do nothing but gape in stunned silence.

They were horrified. Speechless.

And also—against all reason—kind of impressed.

Gyeong Damgan showed up just as Qing was finishing her meal.

The moment she saw his face, he responded—not with a greeting—but by activating the Gu parasite.

Qing’s expression twisted as the drunken heat surged up, ruining the last bite of meat she’d been reaching for with her chopsticks.

Fucking hell.

Even a damn dog knows not to mess with someone while they’re eating.

She quickly chewed and swallowed her food, then threw herself down and rolled to the far side of the tray.

“Aah... urgh...”

It was a bit unnatural.

Gyeong Damgan felt it too—something was off. A weird, nagging sense of wrongness crept in.

But Qing’s soft, breathy moan—like a seductive groan—tickled his ears and distracted him.

“Enough... s-stop...”

Her pitiful pleading made him grin, satisfied. He stopped the venom flow.

“So much chaos this morning. And here I thought a righteous young heroine would have a gentler touch.”

“You don’t remember I’m a rogue martial artist? Are you going senile already, Grandpa? Wait, wait—Gu, stop—STOP, dammit. Hhngh...”

Qing was getting tired of faking pain.

They say when pain hits hard enough, you don’t even scream.

So now she figured: forget the moaning—just bury your face and tremble.