~CHAPTER 11~
“Ugh, but we really need to do something about his face. Even when he heals, he won’t look normal. Are the righteous guys allowed to just slash someone’s face like this? Are they even really righteous?”
“Do you honestly think the righteous faction would be cruel enough to go that far?”
“Hmm… what kind of medicine works on injuries like this? If we just cover it all with basic ointment, will it eventually heal?”
Yeongho fell silent for a moment.
Geumchang-yak was just the most basic, common medicine for external wounds.
“If this can heal with geumchang-yak, then it shouldn’t be called geumchang-yak—it should be called a cure-all potion.”
“So… what do we do about his face?”
“He’ll just live with it. What else can we do?”
“Ah… that’s a bit disappointing.”
“Why? Were you planning to eat his face or something?”
“No, nothing like that! I was just thinking… since we’re dragging him around anyway, it’s better if he looks presentable, right?”
“…It’s been almost a meal or two since you said you wouldn’t eat him. Why do you keep changing your mind so suddenly?”
“No, I really don’t mean eat him! I was just thinking about preparing the right setup. You know, considering my plans, I might need someone like the monk from Journey to the West.”
Yeongho froze at that sudden nonsense.
“What monk?”
Woohee grinned mischievously, the kind of smile a troublemaker wears when a bad idea strikes.
“The monk from Journey to the West. To do something great, you need a team, right? All the people who made a mark in the martial world worked in groups. So, Yeongho… you’re Zhu Bajie.”
It was clearly meant as an insult—basically calling him a pig.
Yeongho hadn’t expected a Journey to the West reference here, but he calmly mirrored her level of insult.
“Is that so… Then you, senior sister, must be the Monkey King of Chaos? Always attacking wherever you please, recruiting anyone in sight, making them your underling… it’s hard to imagine you’re not.”
“What are you talking about?! I’m not some pathetic loser! I’m the great Celestial Sage!”
“Ah, I see. You’ve chosen a monkey, then. Makes sense—an unbridled monkey fits your chaotic energy perfectly.”
Yeongho even nodded as if in agreement.
Instead of replying further, Woohee gathered her internal energy at her fingertip, compressing it into a ball, and shot it at Yeongho.
Jipung (Finger Wind).
It resembled Shaolin’s Tanjishin Gong, but hers had no formal name—just a pure, concentrated chunk of energy.
It was extremely violent and powerful—a threat that would terrify anyone sensitive to martial energy. Yet Yeongho, accustomed to Woohee’s attacks, didn’t even flinch.
He tilted his head, dodged the finger wind, looked up at the sky for what must have been the hundredth time today, and muttered in a bored tone,
“Now that I think of it, it’s about time for a meal.”
For six days straight, Woohee and Yeongho had starved themselves, too proud to lose in pointless aerial martial arts skirmishes that benefited no one.
“Shall we at least eat something before moving on?”
And so, their journey continued, carrying the half-dead man, with an almost absurd sense of ease considering the situation.
Following a discovered stream, they arrived at a fairly large lake. Woohee waded in with the half-dead man in her arms. For injured people, the first step was always a thorough wash—it allowed them to check the wounds properly.
Drenching him in the icy water, she emerged, and the waterlogged body floated heavily, bobbing on the surface.
His long, filthy black hair stuck to him like seaweed, dripping water in a grotesque fashion.
Woohee casually grabbed him by the back of his neck and walked across the water as if it were solid ground.
“He would have died anyway. You could have just let him die in peace. But no, you drag him here and personally give him a water torture… truly, there’s no villain like you in the world.”
That was basically Yeongho’s impression.
Woohee, leaving the fool who would wheeze even if she just breathed near him, lightly drew on her inner energy and instantly dried her wet clothes.
She also took care to dry the half-dead man, realizing that leaving him soaked could very well send him to the other world after a while.
With her body dry in an instant, Woohee set the half-dead man down on the grass rather than the muddy lakeshore, thinking it would at least be a little more comfortable.
He made no sound now—his life force was nearly gone. If she didn’t act, he might truly collapse for good.
Woohee reached into one of the pouches tied around her waist and rummaged through it.
“This should do it.”
Surprisingly, she pulled out Shaolin’s summoning pills.
Compared to the Great Elixir, they were just a mass-produced potion, but even so, people would go crazy for them.
Before leaving home, Woohee had taken every elixir she no longer used after training with her grandfather.
Other disciples didn’t care for them, and she had permission to take them for herself.
Now practically an elixir tycoon, Woohee carried a pouch treated with oil to be waterproof around her waist. She was basically a walking pharmacy.
“How do you even give these pills? Grandpa used to feed me and help me absorb them, but my memory’s fuzzy. Do they just work if you shove them in the mouth?”
Muttering to herself, Woohee grabbed the half-dead man’s jaw and forced his mouth open. With her other hand, she carefully placed one round pill into his mouth.
But he was unconscious.
He couldn’t swallow.
Woohee tilted her head, thinking, then changed her approach.
She pinched the pill between her thumb and forefinger on his tongue and applied… more forceful kindness.
“Ugh… ugh!”
Yeongho witnessed a miracle.
A human fist disappearing into another human mouth, only the wrist visible—a true miracle.
Woohee pushed the pill deep down his throat, then, worried he still might not swallow, closed his jaw and covered his mouth and nose.
She had cut off his airflow.
The half-dead man convulsed, flailing his body like a violent seizure.
Gulp.
Naturally, the pill went down. Woohee only released him after confirming it. Her expression, almost gleeful after nearly killing him herself, said:
“Hah, I’m such a good Black Path member. I even fed my underling the elixir myself. If I become famous for this instead of my evil deeds, what then?”
A “good Black Path member”?
Yeongho frowned, incredulous.
“Whether it’s a good deed or not, shouldn’t you hear the opinion of the underling you’ve just forced into service?”
“Oh, of course he’ll be grateful.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“He owes me his life. Now, all of him and every bit attached belongs to me.”
“….”
Yeongho had no idea where to even begin criticizing. The idea that she considered the half-dead man her subordinate, without his consent, made his head ache.
“Blood doesn’t lie…”
No wonder—this was a direct descendant of the Ice Palace.
Picking up people and claiming them as her own wherever she went was second nature. In the North Sea, finding disciples was so difficult that martial sects often recruited people from wherever they could.
“Yeongho, let’s eat some meat.”
In front of the half-dead man, who had eaten the summoning pill and fainted again, Woohee collapsed with a hungry expression and demanded boldly,
“A huge, huge portion.”
Yeongho thought to himself that she probably imagined herself in the middle of a restaurant while he was just a humble waiter.
Looking into Yeongho’s now soulless eyes, Woohee brazenly said,
“Didn’t you see me just save someone? Going against your nature makes you hungry. Plus, I’m still growing, so I have to eat a lot. You haven’t forgotten what my parents told me, right?”
Unfortunately, Yeongho was basically a slave bound by fate to feed, clothe, and care for this impossible guest.
“Will a roasted wild boar be enough?”
Woohee paused for a moment, then, with a decisively serious look, replied,
“Alright. But not a young one—catch a fully grown boar.”
Thus, Yeongho became, in the middle of a remote mountain range, both a makeshift restaurant owner and chef, too stunned to reply.
His new figure vanished as if it had never existed.
