Episode 86. The First Time I Stepped Back.
The Bright Left Envoy watched my pointing finger with an infuriating smirk.
For a brief moment, I blinked.
He leaned toward the beautiful woman beside him and whispered something. Then the two of them turned to look at me and laughed together. Laughing at me together—that made me angry for the sixth time today. Suddenly, one of his attendants approached and said,
“Young master.”
A young servant had come up to me.
“What.”
The boy came closer and whispered in my ear, “My lord over there invites you to share a drink. He has another lady with him. A perfect pairing—two men, two women.”
I glared at him. “Why me?”
The servant grinned. “He said you were the most handsome among the onlookers.”
“Bullshit.”
When I turned, the woman who had been beside the Envoy was gone. Then, stepping out from the crowd like a noble peacock, the Envoy approached—with a lady on each arm.
Smiling slyly, he said, “Care to join us for a drink?”
The woman added cheerfully, “Let’s all drink together. Seol-ah, what do you think?”
The one called Seol-ah looked me up and down and smiled. “I’d love to.”
I stared at the three of them and thought, What a bunch of lunatics.
The Bright Left Envoy narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be afraid. They’re sweet girls.”
Nothing in that sentence should’ve sounded threatening—but it did. The polished tone of a true pervert.
I didn’t need to think hard. He was trying to play me—relying on his charm, his words, his wit. A two-on-two drinking game, my ass.
I nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Without any formal introductions, I found myself drinking with a lecher, and two women who clearly knew how to play the same game. Unexpected, yes—but what mattered wasn’t the drinks. It was that I had finally met the Envoy.
We were shown into a private room surrounded by folding screens. Judging from how naturally he moved, this must’ve been one of his usual haunts.
The women ordered mountains of food and drink. The table overflowed within moments.
Seol-ah, sitting next to me, said softly, “Here, have a drink.”
The Envoy asked, “First time here?”
“Why?”
“No man stares at me that long in this place. Women, sure—but men? Rare. You look around my age. Let’s drop the formalities.”
The woman next to him introduced everyone with a playful tone. “This is Mong Rang, I’m So-wol, and the young lady beside you is Seol-ah. And you, sir?”
All fake names, obviously.
“I’m Gwang-cheol. Gong-cheol’s older brother.”
Seol-ah blinked. “Who’s Gong-cheol?”
The Envoy lifted his cup. “Come now, drink. What’s in a name, or where we’re from? Drink up—only when drunk do a man and woman show their true selves.”
Mong Rang, So-wol, Seol-ah—and I, now Gwang-cheol—drank together.
I took my time, watching their faces and eyes. But they were watching me too. Each of us observing the others’ posture, breath, movements. It was obvious—we were all trained martial artists.
The Envoy grinned. “Seol-ah, do you like Gwang-cheol?”
She nodded and smiled. “Yes.”
“Then how far will you go tonight?”
“Brother, you’re so impatient.”
“Hahaha.”
I blinked slowly, pretending to listen. Was that code? Or just nonsense? Either way, three rounds went by in quick succession.
As I reached for the fourth, the Envoy stood. “Excuse me, I need to relieve myself. Tonight, we’ll drink properly.”
“Take your time,” said So-wol.
As he left, So-wol turned to Seol-ah. “Let’s go too.”
“Alright.”
I chuckled and grabbed Seol-ah’s wrist before she could stand. “You stay. Have another drink with me first.”
She froze, startled. “Pardon?”
I gestured toward So-wol. “You go on ahead.”
So-wol hesitated, face stiff. “Uh… yes.”
As soon as she left, I fixed my gaze on Seol-ah. She flinched. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I picked up my cup, infusing it with fiery energy. Instantly, the liquor bubbled like boiling water.
“Ever had flaming wine? I’ll pour you a good one.”
Her eyes widened. “I—I don’t want it.”
Before she could rise, I struck several pressure points in rapid succession.
Tap-tap!
Then I pulled out the small vial Master Moyong Baek had sent me, opened it, and mixed a pinch of powder into the flaming wine.
What was it?
Since he hadn’t had time to make a true poison, Moyong Baek had created a colorless, odorless laxative instead. Even with all my experience, I’d never seen a laxative like this. It didn’t alter color or scent—truly the masterpiece of the martial world.
I poured the drugged liquor into Seol-ah’s mouth. “If you don’t want the antidote, then deal with it. Otherwise—you die. Understand?”
I noticed my hand had smeared makeup from her face, so I wiped it clean on her fine clothes. Then I sprinkled the same powder into the Envoy’s and So-wol’s cups.
Moments later, they returned—faces slightly tense. The Envoy sat down, frowning. “Why’s the atmosphere so cold?”
I said coolly, “You pimp-faced bastard.”
“What?”
“Trying to stick me with the bill, huh? What are you, a child? You’re paying.”
He laughed softly. “What the hell are you talking about? Typical country bumpkin—so touchy. I never thought I’d get insulted like this.”
I scowled, downed a cup, and let a hint of my aura leak out—enough to show I was ready to fight.
The two looked uneasy but lifted their glasses. The Envoy lowered his gaze, sniffed, checked the color twice, and finally drank.
He had just set the cup down when he noticed Seol-ah’s strange condition.
“Hey. What’s wrong?”
“She tried to run,” I said. “So I sealed her pressure points.”
His polite tone vanished. “Idiot move. Undo it.”
I took another sip. “I’m a country bumpkin. Don’t know how. You do it.”
He stood abruptly, kneeling beside her, patting her body far too roughly before tapping a few points. “Ah!” Seol-ah cried out—and promptly fainted.
He glared at me. “You really want to die tonight, don’t you? So-wol, take care of her and pay the bill. This bastard’s asking for it.”
“Yes, brother.”
He gestured at me. “You. Outside. Don’t bother running.”
We walked side by side out of the tavern. His voice was calm again. “You came looking for a fight, didn’t you? Getting tired of fools like you. Who sent you?”
I sensed his tone shift to arrogance and replied, “Gong-cheol.”
“Who’s that?”
“The guy whose arm you broke.”
“Ah. That cripple.”
He smirked.
As we reached a quiet street, he suddenly clutched his chest. I noticed his face turning pale. He jabbed several spots on his abdomen with his fingers and spun toward me, eyes burning with killing intent.
“You poisoned me?”
Before I could answer, he dashed forward and threw a palm strike.
Thud!
Our palms collided. He staggered back—ashen-faced, shocked that I’d absorbed it without flinching—and then his stomach began to churn.
I looked at him evenly. “Cat got your tongue? Say something.”
He turned abruptly and sprinted off.
His speed was astonishing. A faint, strangled sound came from him. “Ugh…”
I wasn’t about to let him escape. I shot after him like a storm wind. He twisted midair, launching twin palms; I countered with my Blazing Great Hand.
KWAAAANG!
The Envoy used the recoil to gain distance, landed, and fled into a narrow alley. I followed, moving quietly, ears attuned to every sound.
“Mong Rang,” I called softly, as if to an old friend. “You think I’ll give you time to take a dump? Dream on.”
Silence. Then a hidden voice—throwing sound with skill.
“What poison is it?”
“Not sure.”
“Antidote?”
“I have it.”
“What do you want?”
I crept through the moonlit alleys. “Can’t tell you that.”
Just as I turned a corner, a rush of wind made me duck. His folding fan smashed through the wall beside me.
Crash!
Failing the ambush, he ran again.
How’s he still moving after swallowing Moyong Baek’s laxative?
Suddenly, he jabbed at his abdomen again—rapidly.
Tap-tap-tap!
He looked tortured, clutching his stomach, face pale. “Give me the antidote and I’ll spare your life.”
“You’re insane. Not a chance.”
“I’ll say it again. Hand it over and you live.”
I snorted. “Just shit already.”
He rolled his tongue, eyes blazing, and ripped off his white outer robe.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He glared at me, wrapping the robe around his waist like a skirt. “Today’s your funeral.”
He tightened it, adjusting the folds carefully. I stared, dumbfounded. “What is that—a diaper?”
“I may soil myself,” he said coldly, “but you’ll die. Antidote? I don’t need one.”
I was… genuinely impressed. Is this what it takes to survive the Demon Sect? No wonder he climbed to the position of Left Envoy. Only a man that ruthless could.
He kept nodding like a madman as he advanced. “Ready to die, bumpkin? Too late to beg.”
He tossed his fan aside and took a few steps forward—then from below came a wet, fluttering sound.
He grimaced. Even he seemed surprised, letting out a long, weary sigh.
“Haaa…”
I instinctively stepped back. “No way…”
Since my rebirth, I’d faced many kinds of madness—but this was a rival worthy of that title. Another fluttering sound made me take yet another step back.
“Stay back, you damn crapper.”
He smiled serenely, like a monk embracing fate. “A true man fears not a moment’s shame. Come—I’ll make it so neither of us can tell whose shit is whose.”
“You sick bastard.”
His lower garments were now stained a rich brown. The white robe only made it more vivid—utterly impossible to hide.
The stench hit me before I could even hold my breath. Then he charged.
BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!
Every time our palms clashed, that disgusting flutter sound echoed again and again.
“…!”
“…!”
This man didn’t belong in the righteous world. A righteous fighter who soiled himself mid-battle would retire or drown himself in shame—but not him. He fought calmly, methodically, reeking of filth yet full of deadly intent.
That composure. That cold focus. That survival instinct. That… flutter.
He truly was my greatest rival—first on my Hao Sect recruitment list, a martial genius, a madman, and even before becoming Left Envoy, already a high-ranked demon in both name and deed.
I’ve faced many things in my life… but never have I fought a master actively shitting himself in real time.
Mid-battle, I realized even my Neuter God Technique was useless against him.
This is absurd.
I couldn’t bring myself to stomp on that filthy lower half with my brand-new white shoes. It just felt… wrong. Then the stench intensified, dizzying me.
I’d never met a stronger crapper in my life. I forced myself to stay focused.