All My Murim Noonas Are Obsessed With Me!-Chapter 88: Long Time No See, Sword Empress!

Shin Yuwol’s [Sword Empress’s POV]

"I-Is that okay?" I asked, my voice betraying a hint of eagerness.

"Well, you’ve already seen it. It’s just us here—what’s the point of hiding? It’s not like my face wears out from being seen, or like it’s smeared with honey."

It might not wear out, but I couldn’t fully agree about the honey part. There was a sweetness to it—like nectar drawing bees, his face had a pull that tugged at reason.

Oh. Is that what she meant?

Suddenly, his master’s warning clicked. If he’d gone around uncovered, he’d have been swarmed by trouble—especially women. Back when he met Soyeon, he hadn’t been hiding his face...

...A wise one, indeed.

I silently paid respects to his unnamed master.

"So, should I show you?" he asked. "If you want to see, just say it. It’s my first time chatting with someone who knows my face out here."

"...No one else has seen it besides me?"

"I don’t think so. Oh, but there’s one person I promised to show."

Flinch.

Promised to show his face? The words carried an ominous weight. I’d seen it by accident, not intent, so it was different.

"Y-You made a promise like that?" I asked, my voice tighter than I intended.

"Yeah. A friend who’s helped me a lot. I told them I’d show it after a trip to Anhui, but... things got messy like this."

"’Friend,’ you say?"

"Yeah, a friend. They’re always curious since I keep it hidden."

"Is it a woman—... never mind."

I stopped myself. What was this, petty jealousy? If he said friend, it was a friend—jumping to suspicions wasn’t right.

Rumble.

"Weird weather today," he remarked. "It’s clear, but I keep hearing thunder..."

"...Seems like it."

A rumble echoed outside. The sky was cloudless, yet thunder rolled—a dry-sky lightning strike came to mind.

...Brings back memories.

An old comrade, one I’d clashed with often but always had my back.

"These damn vermin bastards—nothing but numbers on their side...!"

A Kunlun Taoist with a foul mouth, she’d rubbed me the wrong way plenty, but she was a precious ally. Beneath her harsh words was a soft heart.

That’s why Shintu loved teasing her so much. He’d poke at her, she’d draw her sword in a rage, and he’d dodge with exaggerated flair—a rare spark of life amid brutal war.

She didn’t appreciate being our comic relief, though.

Rumble!

That thunder. When it roared on the battlefield, you’d look up and see her, wreathed in blue lightning—

"...Hm?"

"...Look, clouds just..."

I glanced at the sky and saw familiar clouds tinged with blue lightning—her signature, unchanged since the war ended.

"...Yeo Socheon?"

I sensed her presence within those clouds, barely altered from twenty years ago. She was there, unmistakable.

But alongside her energy—

Flinch.

An immense wave of hostility surged, aimed directly at—

"H-Hiik..."

Him.

The realization hit, and I moved instantly. With a flick of telekinesis, I sent him to the back of the carriage, then leapt out, drawing my sword.

By the time I emerged, she was already upon us, cloaked in blue lightning, a trail of azure bolts stretching to the clouds.

An old comrade, long unseen—but in this moment, words weren’t needed. Warriors have their own language.

Shiiiing.

I swung my sword at hers, a blade infused with the speed of lightning itself. No fancy techniques required—at our level, every strike carried the essence of enlightenment. We’d transcended rigid forms.

Clang!

Sword met sword, a clear ring echoing through the air.

Crackle, crackle, crackle!

Blue lightning scorched the scent of plum blossoms around us.

Scrape, scrape.

"Long time no see, Sword Empress!" she called, her voice vibrant. "You haven’t aged a day!"

"And you... you look even younger!" I replied, steadying my stance.

Clang!

I swung again, forcing her back. She landed lightly, as if she’d anticipated it.

"Really been a while. How many years? Fifteen or so?"

"More than twenty," I corrected.

"Oh, right. Has it been that long since we cleaned up those mosquitoes? I lost track, cooped up in Kunlun."

Twenty years—a long stretch, yet neither of us had aged a bit.

"Yeah. How’ve you been?"

"Haha, great, of course! So much has happened—I’d tell you everything if I could."

Her voice hadn’t changed much, but I caught a trace of fatigue in her tone.

Fatigue from her?

She’d fought three days and nights without sleep back then, still brimming with vigor. For her to sound worn out—what had happened in those years?

"But why are you here?" I asked, gripping my sword tighter, my wariness clear.

+

It was only after I confirmed her hostility was aimed at him behind me. Even if it was her, I couldn’t let her swing a sword at him.

Her reason, though, threw me off balance.

"They say there’s an insolent fortune-teller here who dared to profane the Divine Heaven and Earth," she declared, her voice sharp with conviction.

"..."

"To insult Them like that... I’d love to bury that sin with death, but since They only wanted a simple ’lesson,’ I held back."

"What do you..."

Her words bewildered me. She spoke of the sky—the Divine Heaven and Earth—as if it were a living entity with its own will. Sure, people often said "the heavens decree" or "the Divine Heaven and Earth ordain," but that was just a concept. Yet she described it... like a god.

"Seems a lot’s happened since we last met," I said cautiously.

I didn’t believe someone of her caliber would fall into some strange cult. A martial artist’s enlightenment was often beyond others’ grasp. Whatever she’d realized, I didn’t need to understand it. Our paths to enlightenment would never align.

But no matter what she’d awakened to—

Shing.

"If you mean to harm him, I can’t stand by," I said, my grip tightening on my sword.

I couldn’t let her touch him.

"...Step aside, Yuwol," she warned, her tone icy. "Even if it’s you, I won’t forgive you if you get in my way."

"I can’t do that."

"Ha... Well, I figured you wouldn’t budge easily. Then..."

["Sleep for a bit."]

Her voice came through a transmission, sharp and commanding.

The moment I heard it—

Scratch, scratch.

A sound like something being written echoed, and my consciousness plunged into darkness.