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"Go away, each of you just wants to take advantage of seeing a pretty girl!" scolded Wilga, waving them off.
The leading young man stepped forward, his expression sincere. "Aunt Wilga, we admit that when we first saw Miss Mengdie, we were indeed attracted by her extraordinary beauty. But this doesn’t mean that we now only care about her looks! Honestly, a girl as serious, beautiful, kind-hearted, and helpful as her is a treasure in all of our hearts!"
Wilga scoffed, throwing a bowl of water towards the young man’s feet: "Treasure, treasure. You all say that so easily. Wait until her reputation reaches the castle, and some noble or royal takes her away as a concubine, then keep yelling!"
"How could that happen?!" another young man shouted, "Miss Mengdie is the goddess of our entire slum! Which bastard would dare spread anything about Miss Mengdie?"
"Hmph, who knows."
As they spoke, Mengdie finally regained consciousness from her exhaustion. As she woke, the pain in her shoulders and palms immediately stung her nerves, her expression grim.
Seeing this, Wilga hurriedly grabbed a clean cloth to wipe Mengdie’s wounds. However, Mengdie was unappreciative, pushing it away twice.
"You, hurt?" Wilga asked.
Mengdie shook her head, understanding simple words by now. She rolled up her sleeves, ready to head to her next "training ground." She was indifferent to the wounds, as they would heal overnight, leaving not even a scar. Perhaps it's because this body was made from five-colored clay, giving it extraordinary healing abilities.
However, Mengdie was somewhat dissatisfied with this ability. No matter how much she trained, her strength improved, but her arms, thighs, and abdomen showed no muscle. Her skin remained soft and elastic, giving off a fragile and pampered impression.
Another evening approached, and Mengdie, nearly exhausted to death, staggered back to her residence. Upon entering, she collapsed on the floor, unwilling to get up again. Seeing this, Aya could only smile helplessly, helping Mengdie sit on a chair and handing her a glass of water.
"Sister, I'm back! Look, look, I got so many gifts again!"
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Nia bounced into the room, radiant, carrying a basket full of various vegetables and fruits. Ever since Mengdie moved in, she had been receiving such gifts from the villagers almost daily.
Aya tapped her sister's head, admonishing, "Why are you so happy? These are thanks from the villagers to Miss Mengdie. Do you think it's easy for them to give away these things when everyone's life is not that easy?"
Nia stuck out her tongue, placed the basket in the kitchen, and sat opposite the exhausted Mengdie, smiling at her.
"You... smiling?"
Over the past month, Mengdie had been learning the language of this world from Aya every evening. Although she still couldn't write, she could understand and speak some very simple words.
Nia, resting her chin on her hands, said, "Sister Mengdie, why do you work so hard? Even without trying so hard, with your beauty, you won't lack suitors~"
Mengdie was bewildered...
Aya tapped her sister's head again, placing a dish of fried vegetables on the table: "I think you should learn from your sister Mengdie! And speak more simply, use words, not sentences."
Nia stuck out her tongue again and simply stopped talking. The dinner that night was filled with a rural atmosphere. The three girls sat around the table, chatting and laughing, occasionally correcting Mengdie's language mistakes. It was a cheerful scene, envied by those peering in from outside the house...
※※※
Another morning dawned, and as the three moons set, Mengdie rose on time as usual. She neatly folded the blanket on the table, listened to the two girls still snoring in the bedroom, smiled slightly, and walked out of the room.
Today was different from usual; she wasn't in a hurry to exercise. Under the gentle morning breeze, she went to a secluded clearing behind the small house. She had discovered this spot while chopping firewood, which had been piled with various kinds of grass. She had neatly stacked the grass to one side, and in the center of the clearing, she had erected a wooden dummy made from selectively picked firewood.
“Hoo…”
Her pale palms gently touched the dummy’s head, and a soft breath slowly escaped her lips...
“Bang!”
A light sound swiftly began a series of strikes! Mengdie, tranquil as a maiden just moments ago, was now entirely immersed in martial arts! The sounds of chopping echoed from the wooden dummy, neatly enduring the girl's punches. Her speed wasn’t fast, but each strike smoothly connected with the next. The variations were endless! Her body seemed to become one with the dummy, displaying chopping, punching, blocking, turning, striking in various forms. The crisp sounds were like the rising sun, bringing a warm and pleasant morning.
After an hour of practice, starting and ending with a palm strike to the dummy’s head, the final strike produced a muffled rather than a crisp sound. A faint dust cloud spread around Mengdie.
“Well done.”
Mengdie withdrew her arms, adjusting her breath. Then, a clean towel was draped over her head.
“Wipe your sweat. Why do you, a girl, always exhaust yourself like this? Isn’t it better to be clean and neat?” Aya, holding two steaming sweet potatoes, stood smiling beside her.
Mengdie grumbled, wiping her hair and face clean with the towel. After that, Aya handed her the sweet potatoes. Mengdie, without any ceremony, peeled and began eating them.
Aya watched Mengdie eat her breakfast. When she finished one, Aya wiped the sweat off her forehead again: “You fight so well, did you learn it before losing your memory? What’s this fighting style called?”
Considering her identity, Mengdie had accepted the sisters’ belief that she had amnesia. Thus, she couldn't directly say it was “wooden dummy training.” After a moment, she replied in somewhat stilted language: “Forgot. Things in mind, just hit.”
Aya nodded: “I see... This method is for fighting practice, right? It’s different from how the knights practice. Is your way stronger?”
Mengdie shook her head, biting into another sweet potato, choking.
“There's no strongest way to practice, only the most diligent person.”
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