Episode 5: I’m Not the Guy You Knew
A face I barely remembered leaned in close, his breath stinking of last night’s liquor.
“Don’t even think about touching Chae-hyang. Just the idea makes me sick. If she ever dirties herself with the likes of you, she’ll have to quit Maehwa-ru altogether. You get me, you damn inn boy?”
I tilted my head.
“What was your name again? Something forgettable, wasn’t it?”
Honestly, I had no clue who he was. His existence barely registered back then.
“What—”
SMACK.
My hand moved before he finished. The sound was clean, sharp—almost artistic. He tumbled backward.
Maybe I hit too hard?
I glanced at my hand. There shouldn’t have been any qi in me yet, but the punch had landed with weight. Even my danjeon felt strange, rippling faintly as if something was sleeping inside it.
That could wait. For now—
“You little bastard!”
He lunged at me, yelling like he was casting a spell. Big mistake. Anyone who shouts mid-attack always leaves an opening.
I sidestepped easily and smacked the back of his head.
WHACK.
He crumpled forward.
“What was your name again, our honorable young man from the fabric shop?”
I kicked his face before he could answer. He rolled away, gasping.
“Ah, I should stop before I actually kill you.”
Still, a little taunting never hurt. He stayed silent, pride burning hotter than pain.
“Feeling humiliated? You should. Getting beaten up by an inn busboy’ll do that.”
I grabbed his hair and yanked his head up.
“Hey.”
Was my gaze now the same hardened one I’d honed through a lifetime in the jianghu, or still the naïve stare of the young busboy I once was?
Either way, emotion bled through my eyes. When I looked at him like I was about to crush his skull, he flinched.
“Your name,” I said quietly. “What was it?”
“My name’s Myeong-gon!”
“Ah, right. Shitface Myeong-gon. Why do I always say your name with ‘shitface’ in front? Come on, try it again.”
“Jaha…”
“Again.”
“Jaha!”
I released his hair.
“Good. See? No swearing, no problem. Keep it up if you like breathing.”
He staggered up, still seething, and took a deep breath.
“Huuuu…”
“Go on,” I said. “If you’re still pissed, come at me again.”
He nodded—and charged.
My fist moved too, without anger, almost affectionately. He’d thank me later. Getting knocked out clean is better for the pride than being toyed with.
THUD.
He dropped, eyes rolled back. I nudged him with my foot.
“Myeong-gon?”
No answer—but his chest still rose and fell.
“Good. Sleep tight.”
As I walked back to the inn, one thought echoed in my head:
“I’m not the guy you knew.”
The Power Within
Back at Jaha Inn, something felt off. The energy inside my body was stirring—wrongly quiet but undeniably there.
I flipped the sign to “Closed for the day,” pushed the tables aside, and sat cross-legged.
The Golden Turtle Wandering Art was unlike any other technique. Its name alone—“The Iron Turtle, immune to blades, wandering wherever it pleases”—was insane enough.
Yet as my qi began to flow through my meridians, I realized something startling: I was already at the Wooden Rooster Stage, the first barrier of the art.
Impossible for a beginner. But I wasn’t a beginner anymore, was I?
I smirked.
“Heh… still got it.”
Analyzing it all, the pieces fit perfectly.
- The Heavenly Jade had supercharged my qi before I fell off that cliff.
- My danjeon split into Yin and Yang halves.
- The mysterious man sent me back in time.
- The souls trapped in the Jade moved on, but its power returned with me.
So yes—I’d eaten the Heavenly Jade without the curse. Half of the power slumbered still, likely Yin in nature.
If I could one day master a Yin-based art… then both extremes would be mine to wield.
Just thinking about it made me grin like a lunatic.
“Hehehe…”
Refueling
My stomach growled.
grrrr…
“Right. Enlightenment’s great and all, but starvation’s fatal.”
I raided the kitchen, mixed leftover side dishes and rice into a big pot, and stirred until it became a messy bibimbap. It looked like dog food, but it tasted heavenly.
As I ate, I chuckled to myself.
“Still crazy, huh, Jaha? Guess that’s fine.”
I washed it down with wine straight from the bottle.
“Kkeok… damn, that’s good.”
Full belly, full spirit. Perfect time to stir some trouble.
Return to Maehwa-ru
I slung my sickle over my back, bottle in hand, and marched out. The streets of Ilyang glimmered faintly under the moonlight.
The guard at Maehwa-ru saw me and swore.
“You crazy bastard. What are you doing here? Get lost before you cause trouble.”
“That’s not how you talk to a paying customer.”
“You—”
I caught his wrist and smashed my bottle across his face.
THUNK.
He dropped like a sack of rice. I stepped over him and muttered,
“Terrible customer service.”
I pushed open the door myself.
“Hey! Bring me some damn drinks!”
Voices hushed. Then, from the balcony above, a familiar laugh echoed—Cha Seong-tae.
“You’re right—it’s a place to drink.”
One of his men asked if they should throw me out. Seong-tae waved a hand.
“No. Let him up. He’s a guest tonight.”
They led me upstairs, into a private room lit by soft lantern light.
The attendant asked curtly,
“What’ll you have to drink?”
I sat at the head of the table.
“Never been here before. Bring me something expensive.”
He frowned. “Why are you talking so casually?”
“Oh, my apologies. Hurry up with the damn wine, dog-face.”
His eyes burned with anger, but he said nothing and left.
I leaned back, smirking.
“Just thinking about him pisses me off.”
To be continued…
Author’s Note: If you enjoyed this episode, share your thoughts below! Next up: “Episode 6 – The Song of Maehwa-ru.”