The Poisoned Drink and the Wayward Daughter
Turn north-northwest. Cheong felt like she'd been slapped across the face. All that goodwill had popped like a soap bubble and vanished into thin air. After going through all the trouble to save the girl, Cheong now knew exactly how the prince from The Little Mermaid must have felt upon discovering his beloved was actually a pitch-black mermaid princess—tempted to dissolve into sea foam himself and disappear.
“Oh my, what’s gotten into our little brat’s attitude? When you’re hungry I’m a pretty big sis who buys you nice meals, but the second your belly’s full I’m ugly? Hmm?”
“...Tsk. Big sis? Don’t make me laugh.”
“I’m so sorry, Great Hero. She wasn’t like this before. Ever since last year she’s been so twisted and contrary. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Aigoo.”
Last year? That would make her fifteen. Second year of middle school. Cheong could accept that. Puberty was a valid excuse. Fair enough.
But the girl’s mother clearly carried deeper scars.
“She suddenly stopped listening to anything I said. And if it were just that, I could bear it, but she insists on doing everything I tell her not to do. I suppose it makes sense for her to hate her mother. What kind of woman can’t even give her own child a healthy body, let alone anything else to inherit...”
“Ah! I told you to stop saying that! You’re so annoying!”
Jin Jangmyeong shrieked and bolted up the stairs. Thanks to her, Cheong was left alone with the wounded mother in an incredibly awkward silence.
“Um... Well. Would you like a drink?”
“Then, if you’ll excuse my shamelessness, just one cup...”
“You must have had it so hard.”
“Hard? It’s because this mother is so worthless that her child has to suffer like this. I couldn’t even manage something as ordinary as that.”
Yang Sowol lifted her cup with a sorrowful expression. With the practiced motion of someone who had endured many hardships, she tilted the cup to her lips—only to cover her mouth with a handkerchief and discreetly spit the liquor into it.
Then Yang Sowol’s face hardened. She lowered her voice to a whisper.
“Great Hero.”
“Yes?”
“Please be careful. The alcohol is poisoned.”
“Pardon?”
Yang Sowol subtly showed her handkerchief. It was damp with the liquor she had pretended to drink and then spat out. Cheong glanced back and forth between the handkerchief and the cup, then promptly tilted the entire cup down her throat in one go.
“Great Hero!? How could you—?!”
“Krrgh. Damn, that’s good. Aigoo, it really sticks to the palate.”
A subtle spiciness rose at the back of her tongue. Even as her mouth went numb and tingly, the fiery heat burned clearly through the sensation. Numb. Spicy. Put together—mala flavor!
The taste the Korean people loved most. The flavor their ancestors had enjoyed since ancient times. The traditional taste even depicted in folk paintings. Wait... was this not the intended flavor?
She had assumed that since this was the original mala restaurant, even their liquor would taste like mala. Turns out it wasn’t a proper mala specialist after all!
“It’s fine. I have a special constitution.”
Constitution:Corpse-Blood Poison Person
Effect:Complete immunity to all poisons and harmful status effects
When creating her character, Cheong had followed the recommendations from the strategy guides. She distributed her stats, chose her fate, and then selected her constitution. What she picked was the Corpse-Blood Poison Person.
Cheong had never actually played the main game, but she knew the AI in Murim Life and Death loved using poison, and the UI was subtly inconvenient. There were over ten different antidotes, all expensive, and only four quickslots. Getting poisoned even once or twice was enough to drive anyone insane with frustration.
The Corpse-Blood Poison Person constitution granted complete immunity to all poisons. That was why the guides recommended it even over broken constitutions like Heavenly Martial Body, Natural Body, or Pure Yin Blood. Thanks to it, Cheong was free from the threat of poisoning.
It was also the secret behind how she had survived her early days in Murim—by eating random grass and mushrooms, and scavenging food waste. Cheong’s survival was the result of the dedicated efforts of the old veterans in the Murim Life and Death community who had poured their hearts into helping newbies.
The very miracle that allowed her to read, write, and communicate with the natives was thanks to the greatness of the Korean language patch. All they had wanted was for the game they loved to become more popular, for more people to enjoy it. That pure goodwill was what let the current Cheong breathe and live!
Cheong trembled with renewed appreciation. Shit. I’m not letting the bastard who recommended this game off the hook. Ever.
Cheong shot up from her seat. This was the perfect moment to beat the crap out of someone. How wonderful it was to have both a target and a justification.
“Server!”
“Ah, customer! Coming!”
The server ran over with a happy expression. A rich customer was a server’s joy. But that joy lasted only a moment. The server’s face quickly filled with sorrow. Anyone would look sorrowful with a sword point pressed against their throat.
“You dare put poison in my drink? You’re dead today. When you get to hell and your parents ask, tell them you came up early because you messed with someone’s liquor.”
Cheong’s voice dropped low.
“Aigoo, customer! It wasn’t me! I swear it wasn’t!”
“Not you? Then who?”
“Well, that is...”
Cheong checked the server’s karma. The number was 42. Unfortunately, it was positive karma. What was a mere server doing with such high virtue? Had he fed the local beggars or something?
Cheong was generous toward good people.
“Fine. I’ll believe you when you say it wasn’t you. Who ordered it?”
“Aigoo, that is...”
“Did the liquor get bored and turn into poison by itself? Or was the brewer so bored that he threw random poison into a bottle and sold it to kill whoever drank it?”
The server’s eyes darted around nervously. Cheong switched to the carrot.
“You seem like a good-natured server. That’s why I trust you. So there must be someone who ordered you to do it, right?”
Of course, there was no such thing as an ill-natured server. At worst, it would be the innkeeper’s son who was angry about unreasonable working conditions.
“P-please spare me! I was only...”
“Ugh, I’m getting angry! When I get angry my hands shake! What if I accidentally cut off an innocent server’s head?!”
“Spare me, please spare me!”
“No, I won’t spare you. I have no intention of sparing you. Speak quickly.”
The server began to sob. Cheong had no interest in seeing a middle-aged man’s hot tears.
“Die! You sons of bitches who tamper with people’s food! My Wolgwang-geom is starving!”
Cheong stamped her foot and launched herself forward—toward the men sitting in the inn’s darkest corner, the ones with a few shabby dumplings in front of them.
A head shot into the air. Blood gushed out like a fountain. Cheong smiled brightly as the warm liquid soaked her body, then continued her sword strikes toward the enemies of her drink.
As expected of petty villains who used poison, their skills were pathetic. Three corpses and one soon-to-be corpse remained.
The man clutching his stomach spat blood and spoke.
“How... did you know...?”
“Simple. Everyone else was watching with great interest, but you four were the only ones looking nervous.”
The man asked again with an incredulous expression.
“That’s it? Or what were you going to...”
“Well, even if not, you were all fated to die by the sword anyway. You guys have done a lot of bad things, haven’t you? If I’m right, I get my revenge. If I’m wrong, I just cleaned up some trash.”
They were people who had piled up mountains of evil karma. If they weren’t the culprits, well, she’d just consider it a good deed. It was a structure where Cheong lost nothing either way.
“So, what poison did I eat?”
“Kukuk, you think I’ll tell you? After things have come to this?”
“Then never mind.”
She had asked because the flavor was decent, but if he didn’t want to say, then fine. Farewell, my mala sauce.
Cheong hadn’t really expected an answer anyway. She figured it would come out when he died. She raised her sword.
“When you get to the afterlife and they ask why you came, tell them—”
“I came to fuck your mother.”
Even on the verge of death, the man was full of venom. Cheong sighed and swung her Wolgwang-geom (No. 6).
“Kuhk? Krk, krk...”
If you sliced the windpipe cleanly while avoiding the artery, a person couldn’t speak. The man clutched his throat, then realized his intestines were spilling out and grabbed his stomach instead. Only then did he understand why humans had two hands.
“See that? He just insulted my mother. Leave him to die. If anyone touches him, it means you want to have a nice little sword fight with me. Got it?”
Cheong swept her gaze across the room, not even bothering to hide her bright smile as she issued the threat.
But something was strange. Why were all the karma values like this? Was this inn hosting a gathering of villains? If she burned the place down, she’d probably rack up a sweet amount of good karma.
However, Cheong was not the kind of crazy bitch who shouted “Evil must be eradicated!” and drew her sword the moment she saw a bad person. She simply operated on the principle that anything was acceptable when dealing with villains.
Well, first things first. Cheong hummed a little tune as she looted the corpses. Since they were just guys eating dumplings, they were completely broke. Instead, she found various odds and ends—small porcelain bottles, pouches of powder, and so on.
After neatly gathering everything and returning to her seat, Cheong met Yang Sowol’s wide, trembling eyes. She realized her mistake. Oops.
“Server, bring some wash water over here.”
It felt good to be drenched in blood. That was common sense, but some unfortunate people were afraid of blood itself. In that case, they could overcome it with blood soup. But did blood soup even exist in Murim? Cheong suddenly craved blood soup.
With that natural flow of thought, she smacked her lips once and tilted the liquor bottle. Another cup to celebrate today’s rewarding achievement. Another cup while watching the villain die a proper death. The side dishes were good, so the liquor went down smoothly.
Yang Sowol couldn’t come to her senses.
In truth, proper female martial artists were rare in Murim. If you excluded women who came out for a stroll wearing fancy clothes and carrying pretty weapons, that was the reality. Traveling through Murim as a woman was such a terrible ordeal that no one would willingly do it twice.
They were called martial artists in name only; in reality, they were essentially wanderers. How comfortable could a homeless drifter’s life possibly be? Eating, sleeping, relieving oneself, and simply breathing outside one’s home could feel like humiliation for a woman.
Only women from prestigious clans could travel comfortably with servants and carriages, treating it like a vacation. There were also precious young ladies who enjoyed pretending to be martial artists. Female wanderers without money or background called such women “those who came out to play at being in Murim.”
Yang Sowol, who came from the Mt. Wu Goddess Sect, had always despised those kinds of women. That was why she had felt favorably toward Cheong. The woman had been kind to her child, so as a mother, she was truly grateful.
Originally, a “real” female martial artist tended to be rough. Laughing and giggling among men was the quickest way to be looked down upon. And in Murim, being looked down upon was the same as walking around with half your life already forfeit.
But there were limits to roughness. This was practically the behavior of a madwoman.
Watching Cheong vigorously splash water on her face from the basin that had finally been brought out, Yang Sowol made up her mind.
I must not get involved with this child.
However, that determination did not last even a single day.