Chapter 21: Why Are You Competing Over Me??
“Jackpot.”
What do you mean by that?
“It means I’m thrilled outta my mind.”
I placed the poison pouch I’d squeezed(?) out of Dang Si Hyeok on the table.
The Black Cloud Fan was a tool that drew power from infused poisons. In other words, the more varieties of poison it held, the greater its potential.
Plus, the poisons Dang Si Hyeok had were far more versatile than Dok So Gong’s. Dok So Gong’s were mostly lethal and flashy—obvious poisons anyone would spot a mile away. Dang Si Hyeok’s, on the other hand, were more about subduing or discomfiting foes than outright killing. Probably because the Tang Clan fancied themselves a righteous faction. Either way, they were way more practical for everyday use.
Hell, it even came with notes on effects, antidotes, and recipes—a full set. The Tang Clan’s confidence shone through; they didn’t sweat a little leakage.
“Heh heh heh… This means no one’ll even know I used poison most of the time.”
Don’t laugh so flippantly with my body!
“Jealous? Use your own body then.”
You insolent demon…!
Pa Cheon shuddered with rage, but he was tied tight to the bedpost right now. I’d bound him with every ounce of strength I had—he could only quiver uselessly.
Untie me!
“Nah, pass.”
I said untie me now!
“Use your sword qi then.”
I used it all up earlier!
“That’s why I told you not to flail around on your own.”
The second I’d sent Dang Si Hyeok off and returned to my room, I’d tied Pa Cheon up as punishment. If he’d lunged at Dang Si Hyeok back there, it would’ve been irreversible. Killing a major clan’s young master in the heart of righteous territory?
And not just any clan—the Tang Clan, fiercer than rabid dogs when it came to poison. Step into the jangho without caution, and I might never sip water again. Or wake up with a dart between my eyes.
You arrogant demon! Without this Pa Cheon, you’re nothing!
“Hey, Pa Cheon.”
I said,
“Be honest. You think I couldn’t handle this without you?”
……
“Right?”
Damn it.
“So cooperate a little. I know this world better than you think. Don’t you wanna get your body back?”
……I do.
“Then drop the pride. Our goal’s the same, process be damned.”
Returning Pa Cheon to his body, me back to my world. That’s what I wanted.
Some might say, Why not live it up in the cult? But even the regular jangho was alien enough; the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult took it to another level. Constant brawls, bodies dropping left and right—fat chance I’d thrive there.
Pa Cheon stayed silent, sulking. Big body, kid’s heart. Couldn’t blame him—raised on a steady diet of gaslighting. That’s what forged his arrogance too.
Still, changing even this much in our short time together? Impressive.
“Don’t worry, Pa Cheon. I’ll get your body back somehow.”
……Thanks.
“What? Didn’t catch that. ‘Thanks’?”
I said scram.
“Cool, enjoy being tied up all day then.”
Best way to handle petty kids? Get petty right back.
The next day.
Un Yeop Ja showed up early morning.
A Super Peak master, yet his face was ashen.
It happened sometimes—sudden enlightenment undigested, leading to deviation into devil. Un Yeop Ja too?
But his first words dashed that.
“……Did you sleep well last night?”
His breath reeked of booze.
“I recovered fine and slept like a rock. But you, Daoist… you look rough.”
“Too much wine at the banquet…”
“Can’t you circulate your neigong and disperse the alcohol?”
Martial artists downed liquor like water because they could expel it with inner energy. Even first-rate could manage; a Super Peak suffering a hangover?
“Couldn’t just waste the toasts from well-wishers.”
Pure-hearted to a fault, drawn straightedge-straight. It’d been off-putting at first.
Now it’s pure gold.
I’d boosted this honest, kind soul’s realm. Unless I sparked a cult massacre, he’d back me in most scraps. Assuming no one outs me as cult.
“Shall we eat? Hot soup’ll help.”
“Sounds good.”
I called the waiter, ordering hot soup and more. Un Yeop Ja eyed the spread.
“You didn’t eat much yesterday. Why so much now?”
“Oh, one more’s joining.”
“Who… oh?”
Un Yeop Ja sensed the approach, surprised. Dang Si Hyeok bounded up the stairs, trailed by Tang Clan grubs.
“Huff, huff. Sorry I’m late.”
“You ran up right before saying that.”
“How’d you… As expected, I can’t fool the Eastern Sword Dragon.”
Trade secret—years in service gigs. Folks always claim they’re “just about” late. And a Tang heir winded from that sprint?
Anyway, Dang Si Hyeok had ditched last night’s cockiness, fawning hard. Grinning ear-to-ear despite the pouch shakedown.
He’s gunning for the young master contest.
Young master contest? Oh right.
The Tang Clan was infamous for it. Unlike stuffy orthodox sects, they prized results over excuses. Third son or not, Dang Si Hyeok could claim the seat with standout feats.
Connections counted as feats. He mistook me for the Poison Immortal’s heir—an insane score. Even the Tang revered that guy’s poison lore.
Un Yeop Ja watched us chat, puzzled.
“You two get along oddly well?”
“Hahaha… yeah, well. I misjudged the Eastern Sword Dragon a bit. How could I overlook such excellence?”
“Sorry to interrupt.”
I told Dang Si Hyeok,
“What’s this Eastern Sword Dragon crap?”
“Pardon? Ah, you left the banquet early. It’s your new moniker. Last night, you repelled that notorious Black Shadow Corps with sheer presence. Dozens of martial artists saw it.”
“……So that’s how I got a nickname?”
“Yes. Congrats—landing a solid one on your jangho debut is rare. Even I don’t have—”
Dang Si Hyeok blabbed on, but it fell on deaf ears. Because.
God, embarrassing.
Legit nicknames were hard-won. Look at the Cheonghae Sam Geol—three weaklings lumped together. Even Un Yeop Ja had a Taoist title, no jangho moniker.
Now I’d get “You don’t mean…!?” everywhere. That’s why I’d staged the drama for one.
But legit was legit, and Eastern Sword Dragon burned.
Eastern origins? Nope.
Sword prodigy? Nope.
Neither, yet that?
“Anyway, congrats.”
“Cut it. Don’t call me by nickname. Just ‘hyungnim’.”
“Pardon? B-but—”
As “Poison Immortal heir,” I outranked him—great-uncle territory. But demanding “martial uncle” was nuts.
Even as heir, real old-timers who’d hobnobbed with the guy lurked everywhere.
Some’ll see me as a walking elixir pouch.
Martial artists were power-mad fiends. High-realm chasers’d rob me blind.
Couldn’t flaunt it. Emergency use only.
“Forget it. That’s jangho talk. I’m not of the jangho. Just passing through.”
“Such magnanimity… Understood. This Dang Si Hyeok will honor the Eastern Sword Dragon as hyungnim.”
He beamed like I’d handed him the world. Overkill much?
Un Yeop Ja blurted,
“Something happened last night I missed?”
“Hahaha! You could say that.”
Dang Si Hyeok grinned smugly.
“Hyungnim begged me to keep it secret. Sorry, Daoist.”
“……I see.”
Un Yeop Ja pulled something from his robe, handing it over. My eyes bugged.
A small wooden plaque. Fine ebony, carved with a soaring white dragon. Back stamped “Kunlun”.
“No way…”
“The Kunlun Token.”
Un Yeop Ja shot Dang Si Hyeok a triumphant glance—like Beat that? Dang Si Hyeok gawked, dumbfounded. Fair.
Insane.
The Kunlun Token symbolized the Kunlun Sect. Bearer backed by the sect—VIP guest or elder proxy. One plaque equaled Kunlun’s weight.
Not handed to just anyone.
“Brought it intending for you from the start. Delayed climbing the sect for approval. They said verify your character… but who else for the man who made me Super Peak?”
He pushed it closer—Take it already.
“Uh, erm…”
It was the goal anyway. With it, even sans Un Yeop Ja, Kunlun’s name’d smooth my jangho ride. But now?
“Thank you.”
Eastern etiquette or not, I wasn’t snatching gifts blind—but this? Pass, and I’m the sucker.
Then.
“M-me too…!”
Dang Si Hyeok whipped out something. New pouch? Nope—small green plaque. Plain unlike Kunlun’s.
“Young master!”
His guards panicked, but no stopping him.
“Quiet! Do you know who this is?!”
“P-pardon?”
“Treat hyungnim with utmost care. More than me.”
The guards mumbled assent, sour-faced. Dang Si Hyeok turned back.
“The Minor Tang Token, for direct kin. Three per heir, only for key bonds.”
Arguably better than Kunlun’s. Kunlun was gentlemanly; Tang, rabid dogs. Holding it screamed “tight with the mad dogs.”
“You’re giving that to me?”
“Yes. My first one. Please accept!”
I took the Minor Tang Token. But Dang Si Hyeok eyed Un Yeop Ja—Top that? Un Yeop Ja clenched his fist.
Sparks flew between them.
No, why compete over me? Like kids craving adult praise? This some novel…
Oh. It is.
Reality crashed, but the waiter arrived—aromas whetting appetites.
Then.
“Whoops.”
He slipped, spilling tea at my feet.
“S-sorry!”
“No harm. Don’t sweat it.”
“As expected of hyungnim.”
“Fretting trifles marks small minds. True warriors, true powers, stay magnanimous always.”
A jab for Pa Cheon’s ears. Sure enough.
Hey, demon.
But Pa Cheon’s words blindsided me.
That waiter. He’s from the cult.