Surviving as a Cripple in Murim – Chapter 46

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Teottry
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The Dragon-Phoenix Gathering.

It was a grand martial arts tournament where promising young martial artists competed for the titles of “Dragon” and “Phoenix,” a stepping stone to fame and recognition for those without established reputations.

Of the many aspiring young martial artists, only one could claim the title of Dragon. The victor was crowned the Dragon, while the runner-up received the title of Phoenix.

Therefore, every Dragon-Phoenix Gathering sparked heated debates about which of the Nine Orthodox Sects or Five Great Families would claim the coveted title of Dragon.

“Which young warrior do you believe will claim the title of Dragon at this year’s Dragon-Phoenix Gathering?”

Young martial artists gathered at the Baihua Inn in Baihua County, Hubei Province, engaging in lively discussions and friendly banter.

“Zhongnan, of course. The swordsmen of Zhongnan are unmatched.”

Quan Cong of the Zhongnan Sect responded confidently to Dao Jun of the Qingcheng Sect’s question, his face beaming with pride.

But… his words were immediately met with dissent.

“While the swordsmanship of Zhongnan is undoubtedly impressive…”

A beautiful woman with a beauty mark near her eye, long, dark hair that reached her waist, and a curvaceous figure that was evident even beneath her robes, spoke.

“One cannot discuss swordsmanship without mentioning Nangong.”

Tang Meiniang, known as the Poison Phoenix of the Sichuan Tang Family, smiled seductively and shifted her gaze. The others followed suit, their eyes now on the “man” quietly sipping his tea.

“Indeed, one cannot discuss the title of Dragon without mentioning Young Warrior Nangong, who has already claimed the title.”

Quan Cong’s sarcastic emphasis on “young warrior,” a clear jab at Nangong Xiaoshao’s small stature and name, was met with a wry smile from the young master of the Nangong family, the Sword Dragon. He deflected the taunt.

“Then one must also include Wudang and Mount Hua.”

Wudang, Mount Hua, Zhongnan, and Nangong. These were the sects and clans renowned for their swordsmanship within the orthodox factions.

Mount Hua and Zhongnan, both located in Shaanxi Province, were particularly fierce rivals.

“Ha! Wudang, perhaps, but Mount Hua is no match for Zhongnan!!”

As expected, Quan Cong of the Zhongnan Sect reacted strongly to the mention of Mount Hua, launching into a passionate defense of his sect’s superiority. Xiaoshao took another sip of his tea.

“I hear the Ice Dragon intends to compete for the title of True Dragon at this year’s gathering. Shouldn’t the Sword Dragon put him in his place?”

But… Tang Meiniang wouldn’t let him off so easily. Xiaoshao sighed and set down his teacup, once again the focus of the conversation.

The True Dragon. A title bestowed upon those who had won the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering more than once.

It was a title coveted by all aspiring young martial artists of the orthodox factions, but Xiaoshao, the Sword Dragon, considered the closest to achieving the title of True Dragon, felt no particular desire for it.

“Even if I don’t participate, there’s still the Young Dragon of the Jegal Estate.”

The Young Dragon, Jegal Gwahae.

At the mention of her name, the young martial artists fell silent.

A monster who wielded both the Heavenly Mystery Evasive Steps and the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms, the ultimate footwork and the most powerful palm technique.

Furthermore, she had mastered an esoteric, almost mystical, dual cultivation technique that allowed her to execute different martial arts with each hand, wielding the powerful, aggressive palm techniques of the Rigid style with her right hand and the gentle, yielding fist techniques of the Flexible style with her left, leaving no openings in her defense.

She was both spear and shield, offense and defense perfectly balanced. She was far beyond the level of a mere aspiring young martial artist.

Having either witnessed or experienced firsthand the terrifying power of the Young Dragon, the young martial artists wisely chose to remain silent.

‘Finally, some peace and quiet,’ Xiaoshao thought, taking another sip of his tea. But the silence was short-lived. A new interruption presented itself.

“Innkeeper! I’m starving. Bring me a menu. I’m about to faint.”

A man dressed in silk robes entered the inn, long after the lunch rush.

“A… menu… what kind of dish is that?”

“Ah, my hunger has made me incoherent. Forget it. What do you recommend?”

“Everything is delicious here, but our specialty is the meat noodles.”

“Then I’ll have that.”

The awkward silence among the young martial artists dissipated as they turned their attention to the newcomer.

Thick eyebrows, a sharp jawline, a straight nose, amber eyes like a wolf’s, a well-built physique, and a limp in his right leg.

Tap, tap.

The man was a cripple.

While the other young martial artists quickly lost interest in the newcomer, dismissing him as a cripple, Xiaoshao was intrigued.

He set down his teacup of his own volition, not because he was interrupted, and observed the man as he approached, his staff tapping against the floor.

‘His posture… is impeccable.’

Despite his limp, his gait was steady, his posture straight. It wasn’t simply good posture.

It was the gait of a martial artist, someone who had trained from a young age, their foundation strong and unwavering.

It was rude to stare, but Xiaoshao couldn’t tear his eyes away from the unknown, crippled man.

He continued to observe him, even turning his head as the man walked past, and their eyes met.

“Ah…”

Xiaoshao quickly rose to his feet, intending to apologize for his rudeness, but Mancheon simply winked, a playful smile on his face.

“No need to apologize. I’m used to being stared at. I am rather handsome, after all.”

“Excuse… me?”

Mancheon had intended to be considerate, sparing Xiaoshao the embarrassment of apologizing, but his words had the opposite effect, leaving Xiaoshao flustered. Realizing his attempt at humor had missed the mark, Mancheon offered a more conventional greeting.

“I am Sima Mancheon. I’m used to being stared at, so you needn’t worry, Miss.”

Xiaoshao, the young master of the Nangong Family, had been mistaken for a woman, and he heard the stifled laughter of the other young martial artists, but he didn’t mind.

“Thank you for your consideration, Young Master Sima.”

Just as Mancheon was used to being stared at because of his leg, Xiaoshao was often mistaken for a woman due to his delicate features.

And… it wasn’t exactly a mistake.

They had seen correctly.

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Through a series of events, he found himself sharing a table with the young martial artists. But that wasn’t what occupied his mind.

He studied Nangong Xiaoshao, who claimed to be the young master of the Nangong Family, a man, despite his delicate, feminine features.

Fair skin that seemed to exude a soft, pleasant fragrance, delicate features more befitting a woman than a man, a small frame barely reaching five cheok (approximately 5 feet), and hair that seemed to be a mix of silver and grey.

His hair was styled in a braided bun, a hairstyle he had often seen on warrior princesses in manga.

As if sensing his gaze, Xiaoshao, who had been sipping his tea, looked up, his calm grey eyes meeting Mancheon’s. His eyelashes were long and beautiful.

This was practically… a full-blown cross-dressing act.

Should he point it out? Or should he pretend to be oblivious? It seemed rude to ignore such an obvious disguise.

But then again, they were just strangers, a brief encounter at an inn. Did it really matter?

So, setting aside the question of gender for now, he asked the question that had been on his mind since he first saw Xiaoshao.

“Forgive me if this is too personal, but… how did your hair become grey, Young Master Nangong? Were you born with it?”

In his eighteen years since being reborn into the martial world, he had seen blue eyes and red eyes, but never grey hair and grey eyes. He didn’t think he had even seen such a combination in his previous life.

Tang Meiniang, who had been quietly listening to their conversation, answered his question.

“Young Master Nangong’s hair turned grey due to the side effects of consuming snow ginseng as a child.”

Snow ginseng was a rare and precious herb, a natural treasure that grew in harsh, inhospitable environments. While incredibly potent, it also carried a greater risk of side effects compared to carefully refined elixirs.

‘Ah… so he ate the wrong herb and ended up like that. That can happen.’

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, and he nodded in understanding.

Some people claimed that anything found in nature was safe to consume, but that was a dangerous misconception.

Everyone had a different constitution. What might be medicine for one could be poison for another.

While natural elixirs were powerful, carefully refined elixirs, crafted with the combined knowledge of countless scholars, were generally safer and more effective.

Someone, perhaps Shaolin or Wudang, needed to establish an elixir factory and start mass-producing standardized, frozen elixirs, like Bibigo dumplings.

Otherwise, the martial world would soon be filled with people with brightly colored hair, like characters from a fantasy academy manga.

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Xiaoshao took a sip of his tea, watching as Mancheon nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied with the explanation.

Judging by appearances alone, he seemed like a typical dandy, a frivolous young master, yet there was also an air of nobility about him.

He was truly a peculiar man.

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Is it a woman in disguise? Gimme your thought guys!🤔