The Gukbap Auntie and the Trash-Collecting Uncle
Time passed indifferently, and before I knew it, the morning of the deadline for Volume 5—the one my life literally hung on—had dawned.
"Haa... haa..."
Thick, ragged breaths like those of a beast leaked endlessly from my parched lips.
For the past few days, I'd abandoned being human altogether, living like a machine that gripped a brush and spat out letters.
Hwangbo Suyeon's terrifying net of heaven and earth, enlisting even the Beggars' Sect and Haomun to tighten around my neck. And that mad loan shark Danche Ryeong, who had advanced the hellish deadline by a full day. The immense pressure from those two crushed me, making me feel like my blood was drying up and my bones were being gnawed away.
But I'd done it. In the end.
The thick stacks of manuscripts piled like a mountain before me were proof of that desperate struggle.
"Alright... Volume 5 is done with this."
I flung the brush to the floor and collapsed backward with a thud.
Excruciating pain shot through every joint in my fingers, as if they might snap, but an even greater sense of accomplishment filled my chest.
Danche Ryeong. That viper of a woman, without a drop of blood or tear in her veins, who held my leash—she'd surely prepared some way to collect the manuscript. I firmly believed that.
I trusted in her ruthless intelligence network and tenacity, deciding to greet this morning of the deadline.
Having pulled an all-nighter to finish, a twisting pain wracked my stomach like my guts were in knots. I shuffled like a zombie toward the rundown dormitory cafeteria at Cheongryong Mugwan.
It was early morning, so the place was quiet, with white steam rising gently from an old pot.
I took a steaming bowl of gukbap from the serving window and plopped down in a corner seat.
The rich broth bubbling in the stone bowl assaulted my nostrils intensely.
"Kwaaaah~"
Scooping a spoonful of hot soup into my mouth unleashed a groan of delight from my dantian.
The scalding liquid sliding down my throat felt like it was massaging my organs, stiff from last night's ordeal.
It was pure bliss—the nightmare fatigue of the previous night melting away like snow in an instant.
I threw caution to the wind, burying my face in the bowl and wolfing down the soup and chunks in a frenzy.
It was right in the middle of that desperate survival feast, my mind fully consumed, when I sensed someone beside me and whipped my head around.
"Huh?"
Standing next to me was the middle-aged lady in charge of cooking at the cafeteria. Her hands neatly clasped in her apron, she peered down at me with a gentle smile.
We'd never exchanged a word before. Why was she staring at me with that unsettling grin?
"Seeing you enjoy the food I made so much makes me truly happy."
Her soft, silky voice nearly made me spit out my soup.
"Ah... yes..."
I fumbled to hide my fluster and mumbled an awkward reply.
The sudden kindness threw me off, but she was the one who'd cooked it—no reason to snub her gratitude with a sour face.
I wiped the soup from my mouth with my sleeve and bowed my head lightly in thanks.
I'd just raised my spoon to finish the rest when—
Thud.
A small plate was carefully set on the worn wooden table before me.
Looking down, it was a dainty finger food in the style of ancient Chinese sweets—a sweet dessert stuffed with red bean paste, glossy skin glistening invitingly.
"I don't have anything else, but try a bit of this."
There was an odd stickiness in the lady's voice.
I froze, spoon in hand, staring blankly.
This lady... what the hell?
Was she hitting on me? Flirting, in this barren wuxia world's dingy martial academy cafeteria?
But she was way too old for that—much, much older.
I shot her a sharp, wary glare full of suspicion.
Yet she ignored my rude stare, still smiling that inscrutable smile, offering the dessert.
It was awkward—hell, more than awkward—but I couldn't outright refuse food an elder had kindly offered.
"Th-thank you... I'll have it."
Forcing an awkward smile, I cautiously reached out and picked up the tempting treat.
I peeled off the thin, rough paper wrapper cradling it.
And then, glancing idly at the inside of the wrapper, I nearly screamed.
- Tonight, during incinerable trash collection, deliver the manuscript.
My heart plummeted with a thud, slamming against my eardrums.
I stared at the rice-grain-sized script, frozen solid.
Cold sweat cascaded down my spine like a waterfall.
Cheongryong Mugwan. This place rivaled major sects in scale.
To maintain its vast facilities, countless nameless workers toiled away at menial tasks.
The cafeteria cook who'd just handed me the sweet with this message was one of them, it seemed.
And every evening, there was an old man who roamed the halls, collecting only incinerable trash to haul to the incinerator.
So, that cook auntie who'd passed me this chilling code... and the quiet trash uncle who passed my door daily...
Were they all covert agents planted by Danga Sangdan?
The realization made my hairs stand on end, chills racing through me.
My survival instincts kicked into overdrive, piecing together past memories like a puzzle.
Thinking back: When had that creepy-smiling cook auntie started working here, cooking meals?
And when had that taciturn trash uncle replaced his predecessor, first appearing with his cart?
The timings matched perfectly.
It was the day after Regressor Sword God, This Life Fist King Volume 1 exploded across the murim via Danga Sangdan's distribution network!
Too perfect for coincidence—hair-raisingly so.
These two ordinary workers were elite operatives from the murim underworld's powerhouse Danga Sangdan?
"Crazy..."
I bit my tongue hard to stifle the curse.
Danche Ryeong. That bloodless, tearless, ruthlessly insane woman had long ago infiltrated deep into Cheongryong Mugwan with her minions, monitoring me thoroughly!
A spiderweb laid meticulously to prevent my escape or poaching by rivals.
These damn crazy women!
I screamed inwardly.
Hwangbo Suyeon's brute madness, blanketing the Beggars' Sect and Haomun in her net.
Danche Ryeong's meticulous, chilling obsession, replacing even the academy's lowliest staff with her agents to watch a debt-ridden author.
These two women's clashing obsessions and madness far exceeded what a modern web novel hack like me could handle.
My single life pitted the prized heir of a prestigious righteous clan against the queen of the shadows in an invisible showdown.
I wanted to bolt from this hellish academy into the deepest mountains.
But what could I do? I wanted to live—madly so.
I didn't want to die gutted by loan sharks' blades or be captured by Hwangbo Sega elites, nose-ringed into slavery.
I clenched my trembling hands to steady them, forcing an awkward smile.
Then, like a hungover nobody who'd seen no writing, I bit into the sweet with a big chomp.
"Mmm~ Auntie, this snack is delicious! Thanks for the treat."
I bowed to her with the most innocent, pure expression.
The cook auntie responded to my shameless acting with one last meaningful smile before quietly vanishing into the kitchen.
Thus, amid extreme tension, I began digesting the day as if nothing had happened.
The suffocating day passed safely, and finally, heavy darkness blanketed the old halls of Cheongryong Mugwan.
Screech, screech.
The sound from outside. Normally ignored, but today the cart wheels roared like thunder.
Knock knock.
I sprang up like a spring at the tap on the paper window.
Swallowing dryly, I cautiously opened the door and peered out.
There, under the dim corridor lantern, stood the old man in worn work clothes beside a massive collection cart—the dedicated incinerable trash hauler.
Spotting me, he flashed a simple, innocent smile, like he knew nothing.
"Teacher, any incinerable trash from your room today?"
His voice was warm and folksy. But I wouldn't fall for it anymore.
I knew the chill of a Danga Sangdan informant lurking behind that smile, etched into my bones.
Acting the natural, ordinary literature teacher, I replied calmly.
"Ah, hold on a moment."
I hurried back inside, lighting the candle.
On my desk towered the Volume 5 manuscripts, scribbled in blood and sweat over days past—hundreds of raw sheets, unbound and unstitched to fool Hwangbo Suyeon.
I executed my prepped plan meticulously.
I gathered real trash: botched practice papers from lesson prep, snotty tissues, scrap paper—piles of genuine burnables.
In the filthy center, I sandwiched the precious Volume 5 sheets like a hidden filling.
From outside, it looked like a massive, stinking ball of paper garbage.
No watchful eye would dream the murim's hottest web novel hid in that nasty heap.
Cradling the thick, heavy fake trash pile like treasure, I stepped back out.
"Here you go. Thanks."
I handed the massive bundle to the uncle with deep, meaningful eyes.
He responded with his signature knowing smile, brimming with a pro agent's assurance: Don't worry, mission accomplished.
He snatched the paper trash—and the life-or-death manuscript slyly tucked within—and shoved it into the cart's deepest, safest spot.
"Then, rest well."
He bowed lightly and pulled the screeching cart into the corridor's shadows.
Watching his reliable back recede, I leaned against the wall and exhaled a long sigh of relief.
The most horrific, dangerous hurdle was cleared.
Somehow, through those crafty agents, it'd reach Danche Ryeong undetected.
Even Hwangbo Suyeon's brutal Beggars' Sect and Haomun net was useless against Danga Sangdan's intricate internal web.
Now, all that remained was enduring this stifling calm before the storm.