The Return of the Crazy Demon-Chapter 274: Yoran, I’m Sorry

It’s not as if I became the Crazy Demon because I frequently consumed elixirs.

My internal energy was always lacking.

Because it had been insufficient from the start, I had no particular dissatisfaction about that deficiency. If you’re born poor, you don’t really feel anything about poverty. In the same way, I always fought fairly well despite having less internal energy than my opponents.

Early on in my forays into Jianghu, I mostly fought masters of the dark path and honed my skills there, and when I later fought orthodox martial artists, I used the methods I had learned from the dark path.

Because my internal energy was lacking, I had no other choice.

Even when I fought the Butcher, I fled. I carried the Beggars’ Sect Leader on my back and ran. That, too, was a kind of habit.

You could say it was the method I chose because I was always the one running away.

If someone like me were to eventually overwhelm his enemies with internal energy... what would happen?

I don’t know.

Because it’s never happened.

Maybe I’d be invincible?

Even though I already had the Heavenly Pearl in my dantian, that didn’t mean I could become invincible overnight. After all, there’s rarely such a thing as sheer luck in life.

Still, if I discovered an elixir like Moon Orchid while at Manjang Gorge, that would be my fortune. Moon Orchid is hard to transport, so it would be better if I just consumed it on the spot.

Of course, elixirs of the ginseng or oil type can be stored and transported, so those would go to Moyong Baek or Yoran.

Since my destination was quite far, I found myself lost in thought even while running.

After running nonstop for five full hours, I arrived in a busy district, fatigued.

I had planned to spend money freely anyway, so I bought a floral-patterned white robe for the cold weather, changed into new shoes to replace my worn ones, and bought a silk wrap.

Come to think of it, are floral robes trending again?

Fashion trends come and go, and since I’m half-mad myself, I’ve always adapted to them well.

I debated whether to enter a shabby inn or a larger one. Since I planned to eat only once a day, I picked the pricier-looking lodging.

Hwanghak Inn.

Peculiarly, there was a warning posted at the entrance. It said the Hwanghak Inn was affiliated with Mansangmun and that causing trouble would result in a dispute with them. The message was brief but clear.

It was the kind of atmosphere that didn’t require me to make unnecessary trouble.

“Even better.”

At an inn protected by a sect, it was unlikely any dark-path bastards would act up.

Upon entering the Hwanghak Inn, I looked around, taking in the place from the perspective of someone who also owned an inn. I took the smallest room and, looking like a country bumpkin with a bundled cloth pack on my back, came down to eat. Although the pack didn’t contain any elixirs, it did hold enough money to laze around for a whole year even in a place this expensive, so I couldn’t just leave it in the room.

There were more than thirty tables, but fewer than ten people were actually eating. I took a quiet window seat and ordered three dishes from the jomsoi.

“Would you like any alcohol?” she asked.

I shook my head.

Alcohol slows both your reaction time and light footwork. I planned to fill my stomach, take a short nap, and then get moving again—whether it was the middle of the night or the break of dawn.

The jomsoi asked to confirm, “Will you be settling the bill when you leave?”

I was watching her expression as I nodded.

“Understood.”

While waiting for my food, I gazed out the window. Ordinary people, too busy with work, didn’t bother looking up to the second floor of an inn. Occasionally, passing martial artists did glance toward where I was seated. Not wanting to start any unnecessary stare-downs, I slightly nodded every time our eyes met.

Inwardly, I kept reminding myself: I’m just an herbalist.

It was a relatively peaceful town.

Just when I started thinking the food was taking a while, the dishes arrived: Tangchuricheok, Bongbong Chicken, and fried rice.

Bongbong Chicken was, of course, a chicken dish, though I didn’t know how it was made. I only knew it involved cooking a rooster that had been fed wine. The meat was much more tender than the pork in the tangchuricheok. The character bong (棒) in the name likely came from the image of beating a drunken chicken to death with a stick.

Up until I started on the Bongbong Chicken and fried rice, I hadn’t thought about alcohol. But once I tasted the tangchuricheok, a sigh escaped me. Still, when I thought about Yoran, who was probably at Zaha Inn, I couldn’t bring myself to drink.

I kept eating without making eye contact with anyone in the inn, but someone nearby suddenly asked,

“Traveling?”

I was chewing fried rice as I shook my head. I placed a piece of chicken on top of the rice and took another hearty bite.

“Then what are you?”

“An herbalist.”

“Oh... heading to a specific mountain? Never seen an herbalist wearing a floral robe before. That’s rare.”

Only then did I give the man a once-over.

He was a daoist swordsman.

There was no reason to tell him my destination, so I gave a vague answer.

“Here and there. From one mountain to another.”

He kept staring, so I looked back at him while eating. Did I really look that much like a bumpkin? Or did I look like someone who would dine and dash? Or was he just curious because I looked like a martial artist?

He was an average martial artist—his level far below mine—without the insight to judge my skill.

The food was decent, so I cleaned my plate and glanced outside again. «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» Just as I was peacefully observing the street, the man crossed the line.

“Is there something interesting out there?”

I swished some tea in my mouth before answering.

“Nothing interesting. Just watching. People passing by. I don’t know why you’re so curious—if you’re that eager, come over and ask everything. I’ll humor you.”

“Shall I?”

The man brought over a wine bottle and sat across from me. When he offered it to me, I declined with a shake of my head.

“No thanks.”

“You don’t even drink—such a proper young man. You’re no herbalist. You look like a provincial martial official’s disciple. Where are you from?”

“Baek Eung-ji.”

“Not a backwoods village then. That region’s full of martial officials, isn’t it?”

“Oryo Martial School.”

“How long’ve you been learning the sword?”

“Over a year.”

I gave him rough answers, and he chuckled.

“A kid from Oryo Martial School, with a year of sword training, ordering three dishes at Hwanghak Inn? Must be rich. Or struck gold with some herbs.”

“Not yet.”

I called over the jomsoi and pointed at the man across from me.

“Do you know him?”

She hesitated before replying.

“He’s a warrior from Yanghaejo, affiliated with Mansangmun. He visits often as a guest, since we cooperate with their sect. Is something wrong?”

“No.”

The man said, “Yanghaejo. And you?”

“Cha Seong-tae. Anything else?”

“Wow, a bit prickly, aren’t we? Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Though I was irritated, I returned to my room and lay down quietly. Even that brief exchange with a martial artist was enough to make it hard to fall asleep.

“Ah, fuck’s sake.”

I hadn’t heard much about Mansangmun. The world was just too big. It’d take half a day just to list the sect names.

I dozed off.

After a short two-hour nap, I woke up in the middle of the night, packed my things, and called the jomsoi downstairs to settle the bill.

She checked what she’d written and said,

“...Leaving already? Including the food and lodging, that’ll be two silver taels.”

I started to reach for my pouch, then paused.

“What?”

“You didn’t check the prices when you came in?”

She gestured toward the small pricing plaque stuck to the table—one I hadn’t noticed.

“What a goddamn rip-off.”

I sighed deeply but paid the two silver taels without making a fuss.

“Please visit us again.”

“Too expensive. Don’t think I will.”

“Yes, sir.”

As I stepped outside, I heard hurried footsteps descending the stairs behind me.

When I turned around, it was quiet again.

I tightened the knot on my bundle and walked a few steps before stopping. I turned and looked back at the Hwanghak Inn.

I imagined the Crazy Demon from my past life marching back in, smashing up the place, and slapping that annoying bastard across the face.

What a lunatic.

I must’ve done some truly nasty shit in my past life.

To be honest, I still wanted to do nasty shit. But I held myself back, chalking this up to experience. It was that tiny hand that used to wrap around my fist that stopped me.

Just as I was about to leave the bustling street, people emerged from an alley and began following me naturally.

As I picked up my pace, they did the same. The group quickly grew to over a dozen.

Then, a familiar voice stopped me.

“Hold it right there.”

It was that bastard from the inn. Annoyed, I threw out a meaningless threat.

“Just wait and see.”

They say people who say “just wait and see” are never truly scary—but I’m different.

“Hey!”

I immediately thought of Yoran and took off. I unleashed my light footwork, and the lackeys quickly fell behind. Useless idiots. They probably assumed my bundle was full of money.

If that’s the case, then Mansangmun is dark path.

I’d remember this. I planned to revisit them someday.

***

I resisted the temptations of my past life as the Crazy Demon...

And somehow managed to fully become a decent herbalist.

In the end, I arrived at Manjang Gorge without a single incident, brawl, rampage, or goddamn disaster. I started by checking the area that had once been surrounded by the Demonic Cult.

I found myself laughing out loud.

The leader of the pursuit party was back at Zaha Inn. Now that the Lecher had been stopped from being a lecher and the fate of defecting to the Demonic Cult had been twisted, the outcome of the cliffside battle was undeniably my victory.

Standing alone on the edge of the cliff, cackling—there was no one crazier than me.

“How the hell do I get down?”

There was no clear method.

The cliff was so deep you couldn’t see the bottom. Even climbing back up would be a problem. But it wasn’t a depth that could be solved with a simple rope, so I just jumped.

Once I was airborne...

I immediately regretted not jumping toward the water.

“Goddammit...”

Still, my internal energy now far exceeded the weight of my own body, so I wasn’t particularly worried.

How long is this fall going to last...?

The moment I saw the ground approaching, I unleashed all the tension of my tendons, causing my body to twist into a spiral. After spinning a few times midair, I redirected myself with that force, kicked off a nearby wall, and rebounded with a bang before landing safely.

Eight out of ten.

I looked up.

“......”

I remembered the cultists falling like dots from the sky. Just how terrifying was the Cult Leader that they threw themselves off a cliff with a single command? Or did the Lecher do it to kill his own subordinates?

I waited a bit, half-expecting that strange man to appear from above again, but nothing happened. I scanned the area, thinking of where I could climb up.

I was honestly relieved I hadn’t come here with the Four Villains.

This cliff was so steep even the Sword Demon wouldn’t easily be able to scale it.

Which meant... among the Four Great Villains, I’m the best at light footwork.

Only someone with Jeunjong would be able to climb this kind of cliff comfortably.

Even though it was bright daylight, the air down in Manjang Gorge was cool. I drew my wooden sword and started cutting away bothersome branches to check my surroundings.

According to Moyong Baek...

In shaded areas like this, you’re more likely to find elixirs with yin energy. But even then, it’s not like you'd find something like thousand-year snow ginseng.

At best, in a place this deep...

You might find Skyblue Stone Sap or Natural Wine Fruit.

I spent a whole hour combing the southern floor of Manjang Gorge, but I didn’t find even a single elixir—hell, not even a poisonous herb. Not even one root of Fo-Ti.

That made me suspicious—maybe someone got here before me.

I returned to where I’d first landed and explored the northern side, and then something clicked. I looked up at the sky.

The Swordcry Bridge was gone.

The only bridge that crosses Manjang Gorge is the Swordcry Bridge, but I’ve never seen it intact. All I’d heard was that martial artists from the orthodox and demonic factions clashed there, and the bridge was cut down in the process.

As I headed north, I saw something that looked like a tattered rope hanging from the cliff. The same rope, frayed, reached down from the opposite side.

After trudging through underbrush for some time, I reached a surprisingly spacious clearing beneath where the Swordcry Bridge would have been.

The atmosphere felt wrong. It didn’t feel like a naturally occurring clearing—it felt manmade.

As I checked the sky, the cliff face, and the wide clearing again, I came to a conclusion.

The ones who fought on the bridge...

Probably fell here—and kept fighting.

If that’s true, then they were both insane.

According to the rumors, a top-tier orthodox and a demonic expert fought here, too.

Even if I couldn’t expect to find any great elixir, I had a hunch I might stumble across the bones of an old master. Honestly, after coming all the way down here, I was consumed with the desire to bring something back.

If I left with nothing...

I planned to destroy Manjang Gorge with a blast from Heaven-Piercing Sun-Moon Radiance.

As I continued north, I finally found Fo-Ti. When I dug it up and checked the root, it had to be at least a hundred years old. Considering this was Manjang Gorge, a hundred years didn’t feel all that long.

I put it in the box I’d brought, then kept moving north.

Eventually, I took the Fo-Ti out, shook off the dirt, and ate it. As I moved further north, I’d find even older ones. I couldn’t carry them all, so I had to be selective—only the most mature roots would make the cut.

Moyong Baek had judged correctly.

I used a flashing dagger to cut through thick weeds and branches and eventually saw a small lake.

Too large for a pond but too small for a lake. Still, the water was so clear that I could see fish swimming even from a distance. There was no trace of human presence; the marshy terrain around it was pristine.

I crossed my arms and took in the view.

Maybe this is why people retire to secluded valleys and never come back out.

It was a perfect place to live in seclusion.

As I quietly admired the scenery, something wriggled in the marsh—it was a freshwater crab. Following its movement, I saw a patch of mud with a lone rock. Nestled in a crevice, blooming beautifully, was a Moon Orchid.

Manjang Gorge had a Moon Orchid?

Well, there goes my plan to destroy the place.

Now I was the protector of all things, champion of nature, defender of plants and mountains, the revolutionary of cliffside miracles, the man of the precipice, a selfish bastard who ran all this way just to hog an elixir for myself, a master who claimed to care for his disciple but ended up eating alone, a patient pretending to care about Moyong Baek but actually taking everything for himself.

I crossed my arms and stared at the Moon Orchid, quietly accepting this inevitable situation.

“...Even better.”