Chapter 201 – What Powerful Poison Indeed

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Translated by Heavenly Cat
Edited by Celestial Knight

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

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Ju-seong wrapped up matters in Guizhou and exchanged farewell greetings with Yang So-an, Eight-Hook Ghost, Yi Pyo-eum, and the others.

Regrettably, Heuk-wol didn’t appear as she was busy caring for the Blood Flower Crone, but the child she was raising… Mok Yeo-woon… came out to relay her regards.

‘It’s only been a few months, but he seems to have grown half a span. Children that age, honestly…’

Ju-seong stroked the crown of Mok Yeo-woon’s head, which had shot up yet again, and smirked.

“My… Already at the threshold of second-rate. The rear waves of the Yangtze are you, after all.”

Mok Yeo-woon replied in a voice cool beyond his years.

“The age difference between you and me is only about a dozen years, Young Master, so we should be considered the same generation. I’ll probably never become as famous as you even when I’m grown… overshadowed by your reputation.”

“…Huh? Uh. What kind of kid is this cold?”

Ju-seong scratched the back of his head, flustered. Mok Yeo-woon lowered his eyes and continued matter-of-factly.

“But I have no interest whatsoever in making a name for myself and becoming famous, so I’m not particularly sad. Take care, Young Master.”

“Right. You too… eat well and sleep well…”

“The grace you showed in Chongqing is still kept in my heart. I’ll repay it someday.”

Ju-seong couldn’t help himself and flicked the boy on the crown of his head.

“Ow.”

“This bean-sized brat, why are you trying to act so grown up? Honestly. Go run around and play. Pursue your dreams.”

Ju-seong grabbed Mok Yeo-woon’s shoulders, spun him around, and kicked his rear end. Mok Yeo-woon looked around dazedly, then scampered off toward a grassy field in the distance.

“These jianghu brats don’t even act like kids, honestly…”

Ju-seong muttered, reminiscing about his own childhood.

Of course, his own childhood hadn’t been one filled only with laughter and happiness.

Going hungry on the streets, getting cursed at by ill-tempered passersby… such things were commonplace.

Yet even so, he’d run around wildly, playing mischievous pranks with the troupe’s kids his age, and read Old Master Hwang’s worn-out adventure stories until they fell apart, letting his imagination soar.

In any case, since good adults had looked after him, he’d grown up without major emotional scars despite hardship.

‘Though having no scars and still having this foul temper must be my nature.’

Ju-seong sheepishly scratched the back of his head, then gave a brief nod of farewell to Eight-Hook Ghost and the others… faces now quite familiar… and set off.

The dust-filled jianghu once again spread its arms to embrace him.

* * *

Ju-seong cut across the land called Southern Jingzhou, or Hunan.

Administratively it was the southern part of the vast Huguang Province, but hardly anyone referred to it as “southern Huguang.”

“Hmm… I wonder if Zhuge Xian and Lady Murong are getting along well.”

Going further up would lead straight to Jingzhou, where Wudang Sect and the Zhuge Family were located.

If he recalled correctly, the Zhuge Family’s eldest son, Zhuge Xian, had been secretly harboring feelings for his bodyguard, Murong Yeon.

In any case, Jingzhou was clearly righteous faction territory. Even now, amid the full-swing Orthodox-Demonic War, he hadn’t heard of any disturbances in the Jingzhou area.

Southern Jingzhou was much the same, so Ju-seong swiftly crossed the region where only a peculiar wartime tension permeated.

There were times when being alone felt pleasantly comfortable, and times when only loneliness and melancholy deeply gouged his heart.

“…Ah, how dreary.”

Ju-seong murmured with his hands resting behind his head.

Just as when he’d traveled down alone from Qinghai to Guizhou, an inner demon began to sprout in Ju-seong’s mind once more.

A sensation as if something heavy was pressing down on one corner of his chest.

That he had reached Three Flowers Gathering while harboring such an inner demon was quite remarkable in itself.

“…”

As days passed, Ju-seong’s face grew darker.

He lit fires, slept, and ate meals with a face rigid as a wooden Buddha.

When he’d first entered Southern Jingzhou, he’d at least talked to himself or taken out White Pig to chat, moving his lips as best he could, but now his lips were pressed shut and wouldn’t open.

At last, Jiangxi.

The moment Ju-seong left Southern Jingzhou, he felt the surrounding atmosphere tighten with tension.

“…Whew.”

Ju-seong’s lips parted slightly, blowing steam from the teacup. He quietly tilted the cup and swallowed the hot tea.

“…This is the only edible thing in this inn.”

Ju-seong was sitting inside a remote inn he’d found on the road. The inn’s name was Zhanguo Chang… an odd name, considering most were just two characters.

Ju-seong tapped his table with his fingers, then summoned the cook.

A cook who looked like a toad… or more precisely, a frog… hurriedly wiped his hands on his apron and rushed over to Ju-seong.

He asked with a friendly demeanor, beaming broadly.

“Sir, how may I help…”

-TAK.

Ju-seong pushed the plate toward him and said.

“You eat it.”

At his words, the frog-like cook’s face went cold. The face that had just been affable and jovial vanished without a trace.

“…”

In its place remained only a sallow, eerie expression.

The cook sat down across from Ju-seong without expression. Having spent half a month alone, Ju-seong was equally expressionless.

Two men stared at each other without expression.

The cook picked up his chopsticks and pulled the pork dish that had been in front of Ju-seong toward himself.

“Eat it.”

At Ju-seong’s words, the cook began shoveling the food he’d prepared into his mouth like a starving ghost.

“Chap, chap, chep, chep, chep…”

At first he ate somewhat like a person, but eventually he even threw down his chopsticks and grabbed the food with his hands, cramming it into his mouth nonstop.

Ju-seong tilted his head askew and stared at the cook eating in a truly remarkable fashion.

Having licked the plate clean, the cook let out a tremendous belch and set down his chopsticks.

Despite his small stature, the food had been so plentiful that his belly was now bulging… he really did look like a frog or a toad.

The cook looked at Ju-seong and said.

“This is so delicious… why aren’t you eating?”

Ju-seong still expressionlessly met the cook’s gaze, then spoke.

“…Zhanguo Chang. The inn’s name is unusual.”

Zhanguo (戰國/Warring States) with the character Chang (嘗/taste).

Tasting the Warring States Period? What a bizarre name. Ju-seong continued with his arms crossed, tapping his foot.

“The Warring States Period was so brutal that countries would salt and eat enemy soldiers.”

“Mm.”

The cook nodded and lifted his apron to wipe his mouth.

“Those must have been good times. Being able to taste such fine food to one’s heart’s content.”

“…”

Ju-seong couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh at the absurdity.

The cook rose from his seat calmly and said.

“You should have just taken the Yangtze and quietly joined the Martial Alliance to fight. What made you cross Southern Jingzhou by land to come to Jiangnan?”

-TUDUDUDUDU…

The sound of multiple footsteps came from the second floor of the inn.

The cook stared at Ju-seong with cold eyes.

“Mad Dragon, have you come to find your grave?”

“Haa…”

Ju-seong shook his head as he tapped the table.

“I’d prefer my grave to be in Sichuan, though.”

The cook twisted his lips into a smile and shook his head.

“Sorry, we can’t spare that much effort.”

“Too bad.”

The cook drew a square kitchen knife from around his lower back.

Then five martial artists strutted down from the second floor, weapons in hand, staring at Ju-seong.

“…”

Ju-seong was still sitting calmly. If the cook slashed now, Ju-seong would be cut in two.

“What, do you want to sit there and die elegantly? The Mad Dragon has become a dead dragon.”

“Western Poison.”

“…Hm?”

“I said Western Poison. That’s my new alias. Fresh and hot.”

“Fresh and hot?”

The cook tilted his head as if he were hearing the strangest things.

Ju-seong twisted his lips into a smile as if he’d found something amusing in this situation.

“You just ate food prepared by the Western Poison.”

“…”

The cook tilted his head as if genuinely puzzled.

“There’s no way I’d mistake a taste.”

“Mistake my ass. Your gall is so big that you didn’t even notice you were eating poison.”

Ju-seong mocked him as he rose from his seat.

He looked the cook straight in the eye and growled.

“Once I count exactly to three, you’ll be shitting out your intestines like bloody diarrhea. One, two…”

“…”

An indescribable tension hung over the inn.

The cook… no, the Night Guest called Man-Eating Frog… felt the hairs on his neck stand on end.

The martial artists on the second floor also seemed to realize the situation was turning strange and froze, staring down.

Ju-seong’s lips slowly parted.

“…Ee…”

“…?”

“Ee-e…”

“…?!”

“THREE!!!”

Ju-seong let out a great shout and threw a punch.

-BBEO-EO-EOK!

For an instant, the man’s body stiffened from the super-peak master’s roar.

A punch thrown from point-blank range with blinding speed turned the cook’s insides to mush.

“Uh, ug-ghk, hurgk…!”

The cook’s already bulging eyes nearly popped.

He clutched his lower belly, staggered back a few steps, then expelled a tremendous bloody stool.

His belly, already stretched taut from overeating, couldn’t withstand the unprepared blow.

Ju-seong looked down at him coldly and murmured.

“What powerful poison indeed, wouldn’t you say?”

“…”

The five martial artists exchanged incredulous glances.

Ju-seong briefly assessed their characters… every one of them was a peak-level master.

Man-Eating Frog had also been a proper peak-level master. Yet he had lost his life to Ju-seong’s trivial tricks in a single blow.

‘…Damn, where do these bastards keep producing peak-level masters from?’

Then again, since they were direct subordinates of the Cradle of the Demonic Path’ Venerables, perhaps this level was to be expected.

Ju-seong pointed at the five martial artists one by one with his finger and intoned.

“You worthless bastards. So you’re the ones who killed my poor master.”

At Ju-seong’s nonsense, the five exchanged glances again.

Among them, a man with a stylishly tilted straw hat smirked and said.

“He’s really out of his mind, as we’d heard.”

Ju-seong paid no attention to the dismissive remark and said only what he wanted to say.

“You sewer-fried dog bastards. Since you’re Night Guests, you each have ridiculous aliases, right? Let’s hear them one by one.”

Just as the straw-hatted man was about to open his mouth with a crooked smile, Ju-seong threw a tantrum like a spiteful noblewoman.

“No! No! Never mind! Shut up, all of you! I couldn’t care less about your aliases!”

“…”

The martial artists looked down at Ju-seong with dumbfounded expressions. All five were staring at him as if they’d encountered something truly strange.

-WAJANGHANG!

Ju-seong kicked over tables and threw chairs around the first floor in a rampage.

“Damn worthless bastards!”

Ju-seong suddenly stomped down on one corner of a table with his heel.

-BAWOONG-!

The table rose up with a heavy whooshing sound.

When Ju-seong gently pushed its back with his palm, the large table… big enough for a dozen people… flew toward the five Night Guests.

The straw-hatted martial artist’s eye twitched, and he quickly drew a narrow blade from his waist, slicing the table into dozens of pieces.

-TUDUDUDUDUK…

Wooden fragments clattered to the inn floor.

He realized Ju-seong was no longer there.

The straw-hatted swordsman narrowed his brow and muttered.

“This clown doing all kinds of nonsense…”

Just then…

“Sharp senses?”

“…!”

The straw-hatted martial artist felt his heart drop and quickly spun around.

Somehow, Ju-seong had already slit one of the martial artists’ throats and was bathing in his blood.

“I am, in fact, a clown.”

His blood-soaked face glistened with madness.