Episode 67. Just Eat Your Damn Food.
I stared blankly at the Moonlight Dagger stuck in the table.
“There was this funny guy in my neighborhood when I was a kid,” I began. “You know the type—every town’s got one. Always laughing, easy to get along with, treated me well. A real man’s man.”
“…”
“Where I grew up, a duel to the death went like this. Each man would stick his dagger into the table, talk things out first, and if words failed, they’d grab their blades and stab. It was called a fight to the death, but nobody died every time. Still, at least a finger or two always got cut off. To me as a kid, it was terrifying. Folks back home never backed down easily.”
I looked over at Yoo Sa-cheong.
“One day, that guy was found dead on the table. Didn’t surprise me much. My grandfather cleaned up the body, and I came with a rag to wipe the table. But the rag kept snagging on the wood. When I looked closer, there were dozens of knife marks gouged into it. And I thought—well, at least he didn’t die a coward. I wiped that same table every day, wondering how I was supposed to feel about it.”
“…”
“Those knife marks never came off easily.”
“…”
“I can’t even remember his name now. He was an orphan too, so there’s no way to find out. Anyway, time passed, and I eventually killed the bastard who killed him—using the same method.”
I drew the Moonlight Dagger.
“In the end, it came full circle. He died by my hand.”
Yoo Sa-cheong’s whole body trembled. Tears welled up in his eyes.
Finally, he spoke. “S-save me!”
“Ah, your mute point’s undone?”
“Please! I’ll tell you everything! I’ll cooperate fully!”
“Not interested.”
I sliced through his bindings with the dagger. The rope parted like steamed buns under a knife.
I grabbed his arm and slammed it onto the table. “Your mute point’s gone, but you’re still paralyzed. Steady your breathing, or you’ll go mad from internal chaos.”
I pressed down on his hand. “And tell me—why would I kill you?”
Then I used the Absorbing Energy Technique.
“Khhh…!”
His refined internal energy flowed into my palm. I paused, sending a tendril of my own energy to scout through his meridians before drawing it back in. Soon, tears, snot, and saliva mixed down his face.
When I finally stopped and steadied my breathing, my own body burned hot. The searing yang energy boiled from my dantian to my crown. My face flushed red; even my vision pulsed faintly crimson.
I turned his hand over and drove the dagger straight through the back of it.
Thuck! The blade pierced through flesh and into the table. His scream came out long and ragged.
“Quiet,” I said. “When Dokgo Saeng wakes up, he’ll twist your neck a few times for fun. Wouldn’t you rather endure pain than die right now?”
“Khh…!”
I glanced at him, then crossed my legs on the chair and began meditating. “If you’re confident, pull the dagger out and attack me. That’s how we did it back home.”
While he trembled beside me, I gathered the celestial energy of Heaven’s Core and began breathing cultivation. Though short-lived, my internal power had grown considerably. Yet, frustratingly, my Golden Ninefold Soaring Art still lingered at the Flame Boundary stage. Progressing beyond the middle levels was maddeningly difficult. I could’ve forced a breakthrough—but the art itself resisted haste. So I waited.
When I completed a full circulation and opened my eyes, Yoo Sa-cheong had used his own method to stop the bleeding.
“I’ve… staunched the blood,” he said weakly.
At least he’d regained some sense. Begging and whining wouldn’t help him now.
“Good,” I said curtly.
“Yes.”
I yanked the dagger free, and he quickly tore his sleeve with his teeth and bound his wound.
I poured a drink and held it out. He took it with his good hand and drank like a man dying of thirst. His bloodshot eyes flicked up.
“Thank you.”
I drank as well. “The reason the Lords of Wuak and Cheolseom came crawling to apologize wasn’t weakness—it was stability. They have homes, students, families. They knew I could wipe them out, burn them to the ground. They bowed because they had something to lose.”
I pointed at him. “But you? You’re just a gambling den master.”
“Yes.”
“Here’s your path to survival.”
“Please, tell me.”
“If you can’t help me kill Ilryong and Su, you’re worthless. They attacked me first, but they were obstacles regardless. That’s why the Great Demon died. That’s why the Black Thread Master died. I’m like that orphaned brother from my hometown—nothing to protect, nothing to lose. My subordinates? Half were disciples of the ones I killed. You don’t deserve to serve me, and odds are you won’t live long anyway. Your life depends on how useful you can be. So—how will you convince me?”
Yoo Sa-cheong’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed face-first onto the table.
Thud!
I sighed. “Tsk.”
Why did everyone keep passing out mid-conversation with me?
Maybe I should ask Master Moryong for advice…
At that moment, Dokgo Saeng walked in. “So, did you two talk?”
“He fainted.”
Dokgo Saeng pressed two fingers to the man’s neck. “Still breathing.”
He looked at me. “Get some sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot—hell, they’re purple.”
I finally stood. “Fine. I’m sleeping.”
The next morning, my men called me for breakfast. I washed my face and returned to the main hall. Though the servants were gone, the table was piled high with food.
I sat down and began to eat.
One by one, the others joined in, taking their usual spots. Between mouthfuls, So Gunpyeong asked, “Should we go after Ilryong first, or Master Su?”
“No idea,” I said, chewing greens.
Baek In asked, “Where’s Yoo Sa-cheong?”
“Don’t know. Just eat.”
I’m a man of many unknowns. Midway through the meal, the doors opened—Dokgo Saeng entered, dragging Yoo Sa-cheong along.
Everyone’s eyes turned to them. Dokgo Saeng pulled out a chair. “Sit.”
Yoo bowed and sat. “Thank you.”
Everyone just shook their heads and kept eating.
Yoo’s face, once bloody, had been washed clean. Dokgo Saeng patted his back. “Eat. Fill up.”
“Yes.”
How much must he have beaten him to crush his spirit that thoroughly? It was a miracle the man was alive.
I looked at Dokgo Saeng. “You don’t have to be that cruel.”
“Save the jokes,” he said flatly. “You’re not funny.”
He turned to the others. “The boss stabbed his hand himself and drained his energy. The man’s scared stiff. I only smacked him a few times. Right, Yoo?”
Yoo kept eating. “Yes, sir.”
Dokgo Saeng faced the room. “The boss has plenty to worry about. I’ll handle this one. Don’t interfere.”
No one dared respond. He patted Yoo’s back again. “Eat up.”
“Yes.”
A shiver ran down my spine. Cha Sung-tae broke the silence. “Dokgo Saeng, you’ve worked hard.”
“…!”
All eyes darted between them. Dokgo Saeng replied calmly, “And you’ve worked hard wasting food, Chief Cha.”
Laughter rippled through the hall as Cha’s face reddened. Yoo Sa-cheong suddenly spoke.
“Master.”
“What.”
“If you permit, I’ll gather my men and lead the vanguard—with Dokgo Saeng.”
I glared at him. “Just eat your damn food.”
“Yes.”
When the meal was nearly done, I said to So Gunpyeong, “We’re full. Let’s have some day-drinking.”
He grinned. “Gladly.”
I was the leader of the most useless bunch in the world—no plans, no direction, just a vague belief that those who deserved death would die by my hand.
As we drank, Baek Yu stood. “Senior brother, I’ll dance the fan dance.”
“Go ahead.”
Baek Yu began dancing drunkenly, Dokgo Saeng went back to bullying Yoo Sa-cheong, and Cha Sung-tae watched with bleary eyes, glaring at Dokgo Saeng between drinks. Meanwhile, Hong Shin started singing to Baek Yu’s dance, Baek In sipped quietly, and Cheong Jin scowled at all of us like we were idiots.
It was utter chaos.
Drunk and dizzy, I clicked my tongue. “Pathetic bastards.”
Dokgo Saeng kept whispering something to Yoo Sa-cheong until the man began to weep silently.
I didn’t care. My enemies were weakening themselves with fear and disarray; I just had to wait. So I sat cross-legged on my chair and meditated amid the madness.
Hong Shin’s singing faded. Dokgo Saeng’s muttering stopped. Yoo Sa-cheong’s sobbing quieted.
“…”
Half-dreaming, half-drunk, I found myself once again at the old Zaha Inn.
“Zaha, one bowl of noodles,” a man in spotless white said, taking a seat. It was the cheerful neighborhood brother I hadn’t seen in years. I brought a clean cloth and wiped his table spotless. It was easy to clean today.
“Where you headed, brother? You’re dressed up.”
He ate silently, drank the last of the broth, then looked up. “You really don’t remember my name? That hurts.”
“What was it again?”
He told me, and I nodded vaguely. “Right, now I remember.”
He paid and stood to leave. I asked, “Where to? Going to meet a girl?”
He shook his head and smiled brightly. “No girl. Just… starting over.”
“So you’re done with sword fights? What about revenge on Joyi-gyeol?”
“He’s already dead. Nothing left to avenge. Thanks, kid. I’m off.”
I met his eyes and smiled. “Good luck with your new start.”
He smiled back at the door. “Yeah.”
I opened my eyes and exhaled a shaky breath. A strange dream—but not unpleasant. Maybe the old brother finally found his new beginning.
As I looked around at my subordinates, one corner of my mouth curled upward.