I Am This Murim’s Crazy Bitch

Mouth wide open, her eyes darting side to side, she looked like a lazy frog waiting for a fly to crawl in.

Then suddenly, Muak raised his voice.

"You— hey, you child, girl, you!"

"Yes? Did I do something wrong? Ah— did the ink smudge because it wasn’t dry yet, or—"

“That’s not it. Sanskrit. You can write Sanskrit?”

Sanskrit was no joke.

It was a language devised by monks—specifically, the monks of Tianzhu, a land ruled by divine nobles who treated commoners worse than beasts. That wasn’t just a metaphor. If a peasant so much as brushed skin ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) with a monk, the peasant would be executed for tainting the holy man with their filth.

Naturally, their language had to be sacred. The script was designed to be deliberately unreadable to “unclean beasts.” That’s what Sanskrit was—an intentionally convoluted writing system to gatekeep knowledge from the impure.

First of all, there were no spaces. Not only that, but every sentence had to be written in an unbroken string, with root words, prefixes, and suffixes constantly mutating depending on context.

The changes were grotesquely complex. Verbs transformed depending on tense, person, and number. Nouns, verbs, and adjectives all had masculine, feminine, and neuter forms, each with singular, dual, and plural cases.

To top it off, it was a phonetic script. Every word had to be written exactly as it was spoken aloud.

If you wanted to write “You were acting like a damn bastard, weren’t you?” in Sanskrit, it would come out as something like youwereactinglikeadamnbastardwerentyou, a relentless cascade of syllables without a breath in sight.