Episode 14. When I Went to Watch the Fire
There’s one thing Cha Seong-tae and the Demonic Cult’s Gwangmyeong Left Envoy have in common: every time I see either of them, I feel an urge to hit them.
Following that train of thought, I recalled the Left Envoy for a moment.
A rare five-star talent who rose swiftly even within the Demonic Cult. He was two or three years younger than me, yet became the youngest Gwangmyeong Left Envoy in its history.
The Left Envoy wasn’t originally from the demonic lineage. He’d been recruited from outside the cult—an offshoot of an orthodox martial clan. As I mentioned before, rumors spread that he’d molested several women of noble “double-surnamed” families, and he was branded a public enemy. After that, he had no choice but to throw himself into the Demonic Cult.
In this life, I plan to catch him before he joins them.
He’s a pervert, yes, but his martial talent is exceptional. I’ll just beat the perversion out of him.
My plan is to grow stronger faster than in my previous life, then move across the martial world collecting talent ahead of my old rivals—making them my subordinates, harassing them like I do Cha Seong-tae, or turning them into labor slaves like the Left Envoy. One way or another, I’d pull them in.
Meanwhile, the irredeemable trash of demon, orthodox, or underworld factions? I’d just kill them early.
Back then, the trend was simple: if you were branded a public enemy, you ran to the Demonic Cult. If the Cult’s lord turned his back on you, you’d trot off to the Murim Alliance and ask to be locked in their dungeon.
Martial geniuses ping-ponged from one extreme to the other. That was the fashion of the age.
My medium- to long-term plan was to steal those talents in transit.
The so-called “plan to split the world into three.”
The martial world had been split in two—Murim Alliance and Demonic Cult. I planned to wedge myself between and turn it into a three-way war. It didn’t particularly suit my personality, but a man’s dreams are allowed to be oversized.
Cha Seong-tae stumbled back in, having just puked outside, his nose firmly pinched.
With a nasal whine, he declared, “We need to shut this inn down. Official reason: biohazard-level stench.”
I tried to recall how he’d died in my previous life. He wasn’t important enough to be famous, so no matter how I dug through my memories, nothing came up.
One thing was certain, though.
He’d almost certainly died because of that damn mouth of his.
“Seong-tae.”
“Go ahead and make your excuses.”
“It’s because I was cultivating. I didn’t just shit all over the floor. Not that a punk like you would understand.”
“This is the first time I’ve heard of ‘cultivation’ smelling like a latrine. Just admit it. For the dignity of Ilyang County, Jahak Inn is hereby shut down. Or I send in my elite cleaning crew. Your choice.”
“Then send them. But first, you’re coming with me to Maehwa House.”
“Why?”
“To wash.”
“You reek. Just go wash in a stream somewhere.”
I hooked an arm around his shoulders, ignoring his protests. His face twisted like he might die.
“Ugh…”
“Quit overreacting.”
“Yes, sir.”
Breathing only through his mouth, he muttered, “Isn’t this shoulder-to-shoulder bit a little much? We’re not even close.”
“Now I’m pissed.”
My face went still, and he flinched.
“Sorry.”
I glared at him and said, “Let’s swap clothes. Strip.”
He stared me straight in the eye. “You bastard. Just sling your arm over my shoulders.”
I smacked him once and, like loving brothers, we headed to Maehwa House.
At the entrance, the gatekeeper I’d knocked out before pinched his nose and said, “We serve drunks, but not men who shit their pants.”
Cha Seong-tae snapped, “Wanna die? Move.”
I glanced at the gatekeeper. He avoided my gaze with a sour look—still salty about the beating from last time.
This is what I like about my hometown.
Most folks don’t shrink for long just because they took a few punches.
Maybe that’s why someone like me could appear in the jianghu out of nowhere.
As we walked into Maehwa House trailing the stench, the courtesans passing by screamed and fled.
Seong-tae found it hilarious and leaned into the chaos.
“Out of the way! I shit myself! I shit my pants, people!” he cackled.
I refused to humor him; I just rolled my tongue around inside my mouth. With this guy, you can’t let your guard down for even a second.
After rinsing off a few times, I sank into the wooden bath. Thick steam rose from the hot water, and the fatigue melted from my body.
“Uooohhh…”
Some incomprehensible sound oozed out of my mouth. A little reward for pushing the Golden-Turtle Roaming Art up to the Flame Rooster stage.
Suddenly the screen door slid aside, and in stepped Chae-hyang, clutching a large towel.
“I’ll attend your bath, sir.”
I looked at her as she approached the tub and waved a hand.
“Since when does a courtesan attend men’s baths? I’m good.”
“Seong-tae told me to come. I’ll at least help dry you off when you’re done.”
“That trick’s not gonna work.”
“What trick?”
What do you think. Beauty trap.
“You think I don’t have hands or feet? I can dry myself with my toes if I have to. Leave the towel and go. Men and women aren’t supposed to sit together in a bath. Even Pigsy and the spider demon didn’t bathe together.”
“Huh?”
“And yet somehow the tavern boy from Jahak Inn and Maehwa House’s top courtesan are sharing a bath? What kind of messed-up scene is this. Next time you get that kind of order, just tell Seong-tae I said no and don’t come. I’ll speak to him. You act like the courtesan you are.”
Some people insist on doing things nobody asked for. Today that idiot was Cha Seong-tae.
Chae-hyang bowed slightly. “Thank you. And… I’m sorry about before.”
A clean apology deserves to be accepted.
“All right.”
I was still wondering why she was being so polite when her real intent slipped out.
“You’re still going to get rid of Jo Sam-pyeong, right? I was curious.”
“Why? Want me to spare him?”
“No. I was taken by him and brought here. This isn’t my hometown.”
“If you’ve got a place to go back to, you should.”
“It wasn’t exactly a wonderful place. Too poor. I don’t really want to go back.”
“Tell the other girls too. Anyone who wants to go home, goes home. You know who’s saying that? The tavern boy of Jahak Inn.”
“If you were that strong all along… why did you just stand there and get beaten like that?”
Questions like that put me in a tight spot.
With just my head above the water, I answered, “You have to get beaten first to pull off a proper revenge.”
She snorted. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“They say a gentleman’s revenge isn’t late even ten years on. And a tavern boy’s revenge begins by getting beaten. You should read more books. Not just practice songs. Reading improves singing.”
“Really?”
“No. I just made that up.”
She tilted her head. “Hmm.”
I motioned toward the door, and she folded the towel she’d wrapped around herself, set it by the tub, and left.
Vixen.
Anyway, beauty traps don’t work on me.
Danger usually arrives dressed like that—sudden, wrapped in something soft. They say in the martial world you should beware three kinds of people: the old, the young, and women.
I disagree.
If you remove the old, the young, and the women, what’s left is able-bodied men.
Able-bodied men are, at high probability, martial artists.
So “beware everyone else” means, effectively, beware everyone.
Until my cultivation is complete, that goes for me too.
If I let myself slack off because of some little beauty scheme Seong-tae comes up with, I’ll end up losing to the monsters at the top later.
It’s not that he intends that; it’s just one of those traps life likes to set.
Anyway, now wasn’t the time.
After washing thoroughly and changing into clean clothes, I stepped out. People’s gazes were different than before—some didn’t even realize I was the tavern boy from Jahak Inn.
When you’re young and your martial cultivation soars, your face changes—your features sharpen.
I only learned that now because in my previous life, I grew stronger as I grew older. I hadn’t noticed before.
It was true I’d grown a little better looking. But unlike the Demonic Cult’s perverted Left Envoy, I wasn’t the type to chase women with power and status as my bait.
So instead of hanging around the brothel, I headed straight back toward Jahak Inn.
Halfway there, I saw flames in the distance. People were rushing to watch.
“Looks like a fire.”
I followed, pushed through the crowd, and got a clear view. The burning building was—of course—Jahak Inn.
“…”
We’d crossed paths in the worst way. I let out a half-laugh. What were the odds I’d get to watch my own place burn down twice?
The words slipped out on their own.
“Why do they keep burning my house down? What did the building ever do to anyone?”
Maybe inns have destinies too.
The flames seemed to glare back at me—as if to say, you don’t get a cozy home in this life either.
Obviously, this wasn’t Cha Seong-tae’s doing.
Jo Sam-pyeong, the youngest of the Jo brothers, stood with his men in front of the inn, and his followers were hurling torches at Jahak Inn.
Sam-pyeong was the best-looking of the trio. He’d been in charge of luring gullible young women to the brothels, so that made sense.
Seeing his face for the first time in a while, I was reminded how punchable it was.
Voices rose from the crowd around us.
“What are you gonna do if Jaha comes back and sees that place burned?!”
“You can’t just burn another man’s house like that! You’ll be struck by heaven!”
Sam-pyeong turned toward the direction of the voices.
“Bring me Lee Jaha. Where is he?”
Ilyang County folk are tough. Someone shouted from the throng:
“You damned gigolo!”
“Who said that? Quit squeaking like rats and come out, you sons of bitches!”
He bellowed, and silence fell.
I figured out why he was so bold: a man in a black long coat stood nearby, watching, expression icy. I’d never seen him before.
He was clearly stronger than Sam-pyeong.
As I watched my inn burn, I spoke up.
“Sam-pyeong. My brother’s grave is behind that inn. You really gonna burn his corpse with it?”
He whipped his head toward me, eyes flashing.
“Who the hell said that?”
I pushed through the crowd and stepped out.
“Me, you little shit.”
He didn’t recognize me at first; his eyes swept me top to bottom.
“Who are you?”
Even this bastard didn’t recognize me. The cosmetic effect of martial training really was impressive.
I looked him in the eye, voice calm.
“Why are you burning an innocent building? How are you planning to compensate me?”
Only then did his face twist in shock.
“You… Jaha? What the hell happened to you? And what’s with that tone?”
He turned to the man in black and tattled like a spoiled child.
“Senior Neung, this is the guy.”
The man Sam-pyeong called Senior Neung frowned, tilting his head. Then he spoke, voice flat.
“Jo Sam-pyeong.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What exactly are you asking of me?”
“Pardon?”
“Are you seriously asking me to kill a tavern boy? I came to celebrate your brother’s new branch and drink your wine, and now you disappoint me. Don’t tell me you plan to found a branch of the Sect with skills that can’t even handle him. The whole martial world would laugh. I have no intention of letting my name be dragged into that.”
He scrutinized me up and down, then added, “Kill him yourself. If your skills are really that poor, maybe you should go join your brothers. You can’t be dreaming of the martial world without at least a shred of conscience.”
Sam-pyeong stammered, flustered. “No, Senior Neung—”
“And why am I your senior? I’ve never taken on a junior like you.”
What the man in black said was annoyingly correct, so I chimed in.
“He’s right, Sam-pyeong. Have some conscience. Loser burns to death—how about that for terms? Come here.”
That last line soured the air instantly.