Episode 50. I Will Become the Mad Demon Again
Geumhae always thought himself as clever as anyone in the world, yet nothing about what was happening made sense to him now.
He couldn’t understand why the smelly servant from the Black Cat Hall possessed such overwhelming martial skill, nor could he fathom why Hongshin—who had suddenly appeared—was calling that servant “Senior Brother” with a fearful tone.
Hongshin was never the type to fear anyone. Even before the Four Death Generals or Master Daenachal himself, she would still speak her mind. Yet now, she seemed genuinely terrified of this man.
“Who in the world is he?”
No matter how much Geumhae wracked his brain, he couldn’t figure out the identity of the smelly servant.
As we traveled to the physician that Geumhae knew, fragments of my past life came flooding back. I had a feeling I knew who we were about to meet.
Inside the rattling carriage, I turned toward Geumhae, whose face was tightening with confusion.
“Pig.”
He instinctively answered in a respectful tone. “Y-yes?”
“Your brain’s making too much noise. Empty your thoughts for a while. Let go of your greed and accept the situation. Being smart doesn’t mean you can understand everything in the world.”
Before Geumhae could respond, Hongshin—expressionless—raised her hand slightly.
Slap warning.
Geumhae’s head spun just from the thought, and he hurriedly stammered, “Y-yes, I’ll clear my mind!”
But his breathing suddenly quickened; his chi was reversing.
I clicked my tongue. “Steady your breath, or you’ll fall into deviation.”
“Y-yes.”
“You’re rich, sure—but if you go insane, you won’t even live long enough to spend it. Get a grip.”
He quickly shut his eyes and focused on his breathing. Somehow, my words made him even more distressed.
After securing the White Flame Grass and the gold, Hongshin and I stepped out of the carriage first. The coachman followed, helping the pale-faced Geumhae to his feet.
So it turned out we’d actually brought a critical patient.
But heart demons aren’t some mystical curse—they simply appear when a person loses what matters most. For Geumhae, that was money… and the inner power he’d accumulated with it.
He’d lost both to me—and was now getting slapped repeatedly by Hongshin. It was a perfect recipe for deviation, or worse, madness.
“Go in first,” I said.
After sending them ahead, I stood before the signboard for a long while.
“Moyong Clinic (慕容醫家).”
A rare Moyong family name. Yes—this was the place.
I felt oddly sentimental. I didn’t know what kind of fate would bind us again after this meeting, but I knew it would be significant.
When I entered, the young physician himself was already receiving patients. “Bring the young master inside, quickly.”
The attendants supported Geumhae as they hurried in. I lingered a moment, quietly observing the man with a white band tied across his head.
Neat clothes. Clean face. A soft, occasional smile. So foreign, so innocent.
“So this man once had peaceful days too…”
After the coachman finished explaining, Hongshin spoke up, “Doctor, you should also hear what my Senior Brother has to say.”
“Hongshin.”
“Yes, Senior Brother?”
“Address the physician respectfully at all times.”
“Understood, Senior Brother.”
The doctor glanced at me briefly, then turned back to his patient. “The young master from Geumsan has suffered internal injuries. Begin qi circulation therapy immediately.”
“Yes, Doctor,” one attendant replied.
“No one should disturb him. And as for you, sir—what brings you here?”
I removed my mask for the first time in a long while and met his eyes.
“My name is Lee Jaha from Ilyang County. Leader of a small group called the Haomun.”
The doctor blinked. “You’re… not one of the Twelve Generals?”
I looked at the mask and replied, “Our Haomun is currently at war with Daenachal. The original owner of this mask was killed by Hongshin.”
The mention of war made him blink rapidly. “Ah… I see. Then please allow me to treat your companion first. And you, sir—any discomfort?”
“No, I’m only here to settle an account. But I’ve heard your reputation, Doctor Moyong, and was curious to see it for myself.”
He smiled politely. “Ah, I see. My apologies. I am Moyong Baek.”
He gave instructions to the attendants, who led Hongshin and the coachman inside. Even then, Hongshin didn’t forget to report back.
“Senior Brother, I’ll be back after treatment.”
“Alright.”
Once everyone was gone, only Moyong Baek and I remained.
“You’re truly fighting Daenachal?” he asked.
I nodded, then gestured him over to the table where I placed a box. “Come here, Doctor.”
When I opened it, his eyes widened. “Why is this here?”
“You examined it?”
He nodded. “Yes. It’s genuine.”
“How old do you think?”
“Judging by the root thickness and branching—over a century.”
“Not three or four hundred?”
“Unlikely. Even a hundred-year root is rare these days. Merchants dig up whatever they can from dangerous terrain.”
So Geumhae had lied. I chuckled. “I’ve already eaten three roots.”
“Ah—congratulations,” Moyong Baek said, startled.
“You cultivate as well?” I asked.
“A little. Treating martial artists requires understanding their chi flow. Sometimes I even face strange poisons.”
I sighed inwardly. “So he really was this kind once…”
I glanced around the clinic—clean, well-organized, peaceful. Then rested my forehead on clasped hands, deep in thought.
“If there’s kindness, I repay it. If there’s hatred, I repay double.” Dokgosaeng’s words echoed in my head. I wasn’t so different myself.
“You’re not unwell?” Moyong Baek asked.
“No.”
“You know, White Flame Grass enhances yang energy. You must be careful—it can cause heat illness.”
“I’ve always had plenty of anger. I’ll be fine.”
“Then you must be more careful.”
“Don’t worry. I vent it properly.”
“And how do you vent it, may I ask?”
“Shall I be honest?”
“As a physician, I keep all patient confessions confidential.”
I tapped the table. “Once, my home—also an inn—was burned down. I was furious. So I killed the man who did it. Felt great.”
He blinked, startled. “Ah… I see.”
“Then I learned he’d been working under the Black Cat Hall’s permission. Their men came, mocked me, made me kneel like a dog. So I killed them too. Felt even better.”
“Ah… I see.”
“They sent assassins after that.”
“The Black Cat Hall?”
“Yeah. I spared one—shared a pork bone stew with him. Then marched straight into their hall myself.”
Moyong Baek swallowed nervously. “And… the Hall Master?”
“I considered sparing him. Until he said something stupid about how black-path dogs only live to lick and bark when told. So I sent him flying into a wall and asked if he’d lick on command. He ascended soon after.”
“So the Hall Master is… dead?”
“Officially, no. Because I’m acting as him now.”
I tapped the mask beside me. “Like this. Right now, I’m both the Black Cat and the Green Dog. Understand?”
He blinked, then nodded. “You certainly know how to relieve anger, sir.”
“That’s right. No ulcers for me.”
He hesitated. “If I may ask something delicate…”
“Go ahead, Doctor.”
“You’re the enemy of Daenachal—so are you here to treat one of his disciples?”
“You catch on quickly.”
I leaned forward, tapping two fingers on the table—step, step. “There was once a man. Walked like this. Killed everyone he met—some for offense, some for nothing, some for farting too loud. Killed until no one was left. You know what he became?”
“Please, continue.”
“A demon.”
I reset my fingers and walked them again toward him. “But I wasn’t like that. I killed the arsonist, yes—but spared others. The rude woman, the assassin who paid for his meal, the man kidnapped as a child who never learned how to live—I let them live.”
“So… what do you call that? The black path?”
“No. It’s how one faces the black path. I keep hope that some of them might redeem themselves. Even if they betray me later, I’ll bear that myself.”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “Then are you… the white path? A righteous hero?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I lack virtue.”
“Not all righteous ones have virtue.”
“True. But their founders did. Their first masters were wise and powerful—that tradition gives them legitimacy. I have none. I was just a servant in a burned-down inn. To walk the white path, I’ll need time—and effort.”
“And the Haomun?”
“I founded it myself.”
The conversation had turned into a therapy session. When the attendants called for him, Moyong Baek reluctantly rose from his seat. “Let’s continue later, Master Lee.”
“Go ahead.”
I had my reasons for telling him about demons, black paths, and white ones. I wanted him to understand the difference early on.
In my previous life, this man—Moyong Baek—saved me from deviation with his medical skill. I owed him deeply. Even if I gave him all the gold and herbs I carried, it wouldn’t be enough.
But I couldn’t predict how his fate would unfold now—because I was already changing everyone’s fate.
In my past life, Moyong Baek—known as the Divine Healer—was destroyed when war broke out with Daenachal. He survived… but re-emerged as the Poison Demon.
And Daenachal, as I mentioned, was slain by the Poison Demon.
Such is the martial world. The inn servant became a Mad Demon. The healer became a Poison Demon.
I came to see him today for one reason: if I can stop the misfortune that awaits the man who once saved me, I’ll do it.
The days I shared with the man once called Poison Demon—those will remain only as memories.
I will become the Mad Demon again. But he need not become a demon too.
One madman in this world is enough.