The Return of the Crazy Demon

Chapter 29: Sharp-Tongued Man

So Gun-pyeong places the money on the table, then stands up and says.

“Hey errand boy, there’s no space in here. Let’s go outside. And you, owner.”

“Yes?”

“The noodles were delicious. I’ll come again.”

Still locking himself in the kitchen, the head of the Vendor Sect replies.

“Don’t mention it, do come again next time.”

When So Gun-pyeong leaves the Chunyang Restaurant in a relaxed manner, Jang Deuk-soo asks me without looking up.

“Zaha, what now? Are you going to be okay? He looks too dangerous.”

“Then why did you joke with the said dangerous customer?”

“I was nervous, so I just babbled.”

“What did you say to him?”

“The blade looked strange so I said it looks like it was brought from Nanman (??).”

“It is indeed a blade from the South.”

“Shit.”

Nanman refers to the barbarians living in the south. Jang Deuk-soo could’ve lost his head due to the offensive remark if the other party had actually been from the south.

Jang Deuk-soo grips the pot lid tightly with both hands without realizing it.

I say.

“I don’t know what will happen, so make sure you hold it at all times.”

Jang Deuk-soo nods his head up and down.

“Okay, please don’t die.”

“That won’t happen. Ah, get me a knife from the kitchen.”

“A knife? Why?”

“I didn’t bring a weapon. It’s better than nothing.”

Jang Deuk-soo hurriedly takes a large chopping knife and hands it over to me.

“Here.”

I take the big knife and say to Jang Deuk-soo.

“See you later.”

“Can I watch?”

I point to the lid and say.

“Don’t come out. Just keep holding on to this and watch.”

“Okay.”

Facing So Gun-pyeong in his early 20s in the town I grew up in is a new experience for me.

In another future, So Gun-pyeong becomes a man who makes quite a name in the Unorthodox Faction. Still, it falls short compared to my notoriety.

A thought suddenly crosses my mind.

At the very least, the masters of big and small factions around the Ilyang Prefecture won’t be able to kill me. Unless someone incredibly famous is to appear, no one could make me nervous or tense.

This isn’t about inner cultivation or martial art abilities.

It’s about whether they have experience fighting a famous big shot.

At this point in time, the Black Rabbit Union Leader had to fight aggressively just because of the Cho brothers, so he’s just an amateur compared to me. And this 18,000 Years fellow who will become known for his tenacious lifespan is the subordinate of said amateur.

In short, he’s unfit to be my opponent.

Is this really fair?

So Gun-pyeong and I are going against each other thanks to that amateur.

I ask So Gun-pyeong.

“Hey, Gun-pyeong. Why did you come alone without any lackeys? Did you come as a sacrifice?”

So Gun-pyeong’s relaxed expression soon becomes distorted.

“Why would we make such a fuss just to deal with a mere errand boy? And don’t call my name like that. It’s embarrassing…”

“Are you ashamed to fight me?”

“Shut up.”

“Isn’t it the Unorthodox Factions’ charm to move in groups? Seeing how your face turned sour, your leader sent you to your death, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know why a village errand boy is so arrogant.”

“I also don’t know why a third-rate Unorthodox Faction nobody is acting so cocky.”

So Gun-pyeong draws his sword, the Night Blade (???).

That’s the weapon I recognize.

The Night Blade is a deformed sword (???) with a narrow-width blade (??), and it is a weapon with an excessive curve on its blade.

I don’t know how it was acquired, but it was made in the South. It was also known as a legendary sword (??) since it was a weapon used by a man famous for surviving a tenacious life. Perhaps that blade saved So Gun-pyeong’s life many times in another lifetime.

So Gun-pyeong asks me when he sees me holding a kitchen knife.

“What are you doing with that kitchen knife?”

I sniff at the kitchen knife.

“Huh, it still smells like garlic. Just know it’ll hurt like hell if garlic seeps into your wounds, and it’ll sting.”

So Gun-pyeong can’t help but laugh inside. His own Night Blade can cut through ordinary weaponry like its mere tofu.

I warn So Gun-pyeong, who has a confident look on his face.

“Remember this, you third-rate Unorthodox Faction jackass. If you mess with the errand boy, you’ll be taken out by a knife that smells like garlic.”

Pressing his mouth into a firm line, So Gun-pyeong narrows the distance with an expressionless face.

The Night Blade is sharp and sturdy, so naturally, the kitchen knife is at a disadvantage.

If their blades clash a couple of times, the kitchen knife will be damaged. It can be overcome by enhancing the knife with internal energy, but that’ll be a waste.

That’s why I only defend with the kitchen knife only when it’s necessary. While watching So Gun-pyeong fight, I observe his moves while maintaining our distance.

Of course, the Night Blade doesn’t touch my body.

No matter how much he uses tricks, fake moves, or makes any fatal blows, I easily avoid them.

Regardless of the internal energy that I can manifest, the eyes and experiences that I see the battle through are no different from the days I was the Crazy Demon.

So Gun-pyeong and I have a big difference in hands-on experience.

However, it is worth watching So Gun-pyeong fight.

Perhaps because he is young like me, he is overflowing with fighting spirit.

But if he is smart enough, he should realize why I am only defending instead of attacking.

So Gun-pyeong, who had been one-sidedly attacking for a long time, gradually becomes stiff as a chill runs down his spine.

His overflowing murderous intent and fighting spirit gradually subside as cold reason cools his body.

‘He does have some sense, huh.’

As such, I monitor the changes in his mental state and atmosphere. So Gun-pyeong, who has been attacking like crazy, suddenly stops.

“Who are you? How can you predict all my movements?”

“Like I said, I’m the errand boy.”

“Shut up, you damned errand boy. That’s not what I’m asking. Are you one of the Twelve Generals like our master?”

“You’re going to ask who I am and then tell me to shut up? You must be out of your mind. Just take it that you’re sloppy.”

“Sloppy?”

“You mastered a crappy technique taught to the slaves of the Unorthodox Faction.”

“Slaves of the Unorthodox Faction?”

“What you’re using is not a proper sword technique, nor an actual fighting style. You’re just relying on experience and waving your sword around like a dance.”

So Gun-pyeong has never heard anything like this in his life. But he notes that the word selection is a little strange.

Slave of the Unorthodox Faction?

So Gun-pyeong asks me.

“Why did you call my swordsmanship martial arts for slaves?”

I have a long-standing belief since my past life that all the forces led by the Twelve Generals are just Dae Na-chal’s slaves.

“Actually, the word ‘slave’ is too generous. You’re not like the other members of the Unorthodox Faction. You’re all his puppets, his pawns, his fighting cocks, his playthings, his clean-up crew, a gang that supplies him women and money, and kisses his ass…”

“Shut up!”

“Look at how pathetic the Twelve Generals are. You’ll wear those lame masks if he tells you to, kill who he says to kill, train who he says to train, run sects if he asks, have competitions to determine the ranks solely to entertain him and shower him with money and women. What a bunch of scumbags. Among them, you are a low-ranking slave ordered by a slightly higher-ranking slave, a hopeless, trashy Unorthodox Faction, a slave rabbit when alive, and discarded when you serve no purpose. You might think you’re somebody, but you’re just the jackass who can’t even win against an errand boy.”

As he hears the whirlwind of insults, So Gun-pyeong’s eyes become bloodshot. His legs buckle at that moment as if internal energy is escaping from his body.

“…”

“Why? Did you think the Unorthodox Faction was cool or something?”

I insult him with words before actually punching him.

“You don’t have to be so upset. Dae Na-chal, that sick pervert will die by my hand later.”

At this time, Jang Deuk-soo, who is watching, exclaims.

“That was one hell of an insult.”

So Gun-pyeong’s sharp ears do not miss the remark, and he glances at Jang Deuk-soo.

Jang Deuk-soo raises the pot lid in reflex, but thankfully, So Gun-pyeong did not launch an attack.

The words slave, puppet, pawn, fighting cock, and plaything linger in So Gun-pyeong’s mind. It is the first time he has ever faltered due to someone else’s words, so he feels even more flustered.

Taking deep breaths to calm himself, So Gun-pyeong stares at me and says,

“Keep yapping.”

Won’t you look at that?

I’m the man who can infuriate a high priest with slander until they vomit blood.

I grin.

“The Twelve Generals battle to decide the ranks, whoever comes first learns directly from Dae Na-chal. But what’s the point of learning from him? You’re just idiots thinking you got to learn some superior technique. Dae Na-chal is just one of the many masters in the Unorthodox Faction. Is he at least the best master? Hell no. Do you think a guy as selfish as Dae Na-chal would pass on his technique so easily? You’re nothing but his pawns and playthings. Like I said, you’re just a slave of a slave. A life so pathetic it’s rare to find.”

“Is that all you have to say? If you were that good, you wouldn’t just avoid my attacks. Let’s put an end to this.”

When So Gun-pyeong, who manages to regain his breath, prepares another attack, I respond further.

“Gun-pyeong, an upright man does not live like a slave. I guess you need to take a few punches to come to your senses.”

I injected Fire Chicken energy into the chopping knife that was handed to me by Jang Deuk-soo.

The kitchen knife burns red as the energy engulfs it.

Fwhoooooosh!

The energy blazes bright red and unfurls like haze after the kitchen knife, which is a little larger than my palm, turns bright crimson.

The result of my continuous cultivation of the Fire Chicken makes its debut as the kitchen knife shines.

So Gun-pyeong, who is about to launch a preemptive attack, watches the flaring kitchen knife with surprise in his eyes.

The red light emitting from the kitchen knife is shaped like a long sword. So Gun-pyeong realizes he can’t win as soon as he sees that.

But he is too prideful to step down right now.

I speak to So Gun-pyeong.

“Do I still look like a moron? You can kneel and surrender now. Or you’re going to get beat to a pulp. You slave rabbit lackey.”

The Fire Chicken’s secret weapon, the Fiery Fragrance, mixes its scent with the sword energy on the kitchen knife.

The technique’s official name is Fiery Fragrance, but I call this secret weapon the ‘Taste of Fire.’ The aroma resembles the smoky taste that subtly seeps into fried rice.

My posture and appearance might seem funny to those who don’t know martial arts. I am holding the kitchen knife with my right hand held high.

But I’m sure this isn’t funny to So Gun-pyeong.

When he is told to kneel, veins pop on So Gun-pyeong’s forehead.

What kind of man of the Unorthodox Faction would kneel before a young man who was recently just an errand boy?

Bracing himself that he would die fighting me, So Gun-pyeong injects his greatest internal energy into the Night Blade and launches it at me.

Coarse, muddy-colored energy swirls around the Night Blade and shoots toward me.

It is a sword wind (??) containing a rather menacing spirit.

‘Not bad for vermin.’

There is undoubtedly momentum (??).

I shoot the kitchen knife enveloped with the Fiery Fragrance at the surging sword wind. The ordinary kitchen knife splits the sword wind with a loud, terrifying sound.

Was it just my imagination, or did the Sword Echo(??) sounds like a raging cry from an errand boy of a past life?