Resentment
Baek Choo-seo felt the faint poison seeping into his skin.
"I've walked into a trap."
It was his first time directly facing someone who had mastered poison arts.
In fact, he had little real combat experience at all—not even against those who hadn't learned poison. Baek Choo-seo had never fought a true life-or-death duel, and he had fewer than ten sparring matches to his name.
Unlike training, sparring had winners and losers. Victory brought honor, but defeat tarnished it.
Baek Choo-seo knew well that his abilities fell short of people's expectations.
That was why he rarely sought sparring partners, and whenever a challenge came, he evaded with endless excuses.
Better to keep quietly training than risk losing and shaming the name of Jeonwon Baekga.
But lack of sparring did not mean ignorance of how to deal with poison arts.
"The basic rule is not to breathe it in."
Though poison could seep through the skin, the amount was negligible. Holding his breath, Baek Choo-seo quickly analyzed.
"That lackey of Goiyi chose an indoor setting to prevent the poison from dispersing."
Then the first thing he had to do was defeat the man blocking the door and escape the room.
Baek Choo-seo glanced at Goiyi's underling.
"Young."
At most, the youth was barely past twenty.
At that age, unless one was a genius of a prestigious sect, it was nearly impossible to have reached first-class mastery.
Even if he had only trained in swordsmanship, his level would be mediocre. And since he had split his efforts to learn poison, his sword skill must be all the poorer.
Yet the boy had the gall to stand boldly before the door. It was laughable.
"Following Goiyi has raised his pride too high."
Some people were like that.
Following a master far above them, they began to confuse the master's power with their own.
"Goiyi may have been a Zenith master, beyond what I could handle, but a brat like you I can cut down with a single strike."
Even if one laid traps with poison, without the strength to hold an opponent down, it was meaningless.
Baek Choo-seo drew his sword and assumed his stance. The Baek Family Sword Technique's opening form—Byokro Sword ,Path-Clearing Sword).
Inner energy surged from his dantian into the blade. It was not dazzling, but the clean and forceful form unfolded from his hands.
True to its name, the Path-Clearing Sword carried a rugged, resolute power. It was not the strongest technique of the Baek Family, but it was the one most symbolic of both Jeonwon Baekga and the Sword King.
The poisonous haze swirling in the room scattered with the sweep of his blade. Baek Choo-seo thought: if his opponent was foolish, he would be cut down; if shrewd, he would retreat.
But the nameless youth chose a third option. He countered with a bizarre technique.
With a supple twist of the wrist, his plain blade climbed along Baek Choo-seo's sword like ivy. Worse, it moved with unnerving speed.
If Baek Choo-seo hesitated even a moment, he would lose a few fingers. He hastily withdrew, pulling his sword back.
"Soft Sword? No… a Variable Sword?"
Unlike most sword arts, which emphasized strength and momentum, this was strange, difficult to read.
"So he had this trick up his sleeve—that's why he dared block the door."
Baek Choo-seo still had breath to spare. The next move would end it.
He unleashed his most confident strike, Meteor Stream . Like a falling star, the sword slashed diagonally downward. Unlike the plain Byokro Sword, this strike held layers of change. Any attempt to counter it with half-baked tricks would cost one's arms.
This time, his opponent thrust straight forward. Their blades met, locked in balance.
Though Baek Choo-seo had failed to cut him down or drive him back, at least his minimum goal was achieved: their swords were bound together. He poured his inner energy into his weapon.
But his plan to overwhelm by sheer inner strength quickly failed. Instead, his own meridians twisted.
"What kind of inner power is this?!"
He had consumed his share of lesser elixirs. His failure to advance to the next stage was due to lack of insight, not lack of energy. Compared to others of his level, Baek Choo-seo had ample reserves.
Even if his opponent's skill exceeded his, it should have been in swordsmanship or comprehension, not inner energy.
Yet here he was, being overpowered in raw strength. Through the locked blades, a torrent of force surged into him, churning his insides. Baek Choo-seo gagged and staggered back.
In that instant, he felt a hand seize his hair. The young man yanked his head back.
"Go on. Take a deep breath."
Baek Choo-seo was forced to inhale, and a single thought flickered: What poison fills this room? One that rots bone and organ? One that clots blood?
Neither.
Within two breaths, agony tore through his lungs. It felt like blades spinning inside his chest. The poison spread—under his skin, through his limbs and veins—ripping his body apart from within.
"Aaaagh!"
His face flushed scarlet, veins bulging at his temples.
It felt like he would die any moment. Yet there was no physical damage—making it all the more terrifying. It was as though his tormentor's only aim was to make him suffer.
Tang Mujin watched silently as Baek Choo-seo writhed.
When his eyes rolled back and foam frothed from his mouth, Tang Mujin cracked the door and shoved his head outside.
Just as agony had spread instantly with poison, so too it faded swiftly with fresh air.
Within two breaths, the pain in his lungs vanished. Within five, the torment in his whole body was more than ninety percent gone. As though all that suffering had been an illusion, only faint echoes of pain lingered.
Baek Choo-seo wept snot and tears, gasping violently.
The relief was overwhelming. The air was sweet.
But just before the pain faded entirely, Tang Mujin yanked him back and flung him inside, then pressed his foot on his back, forcing out the fresh air from his lungs.
Soon Baek Choo-seo's convulsions began anew—worse than before.
After a time, Tang Mujin let him breathe again, then hurled him back in.
Goiyi had never taught Tang Mujin this. He had learned it from the Gu-Dok-Seo himself.
The book contained not only recipes and antidotes but also ways to use poison effectively—including methods to maximize suffering.
The key was to prevent the victim from adapting.
One could increase the pain gradually, or inflict it in irregular cycles. Tang Mujin had chosen the latter.
If pain alone continued endlessly, the body would adapt. But alternating between agony and relief made adaptation impossible.
And with psychological fear added to physical torment, the suffering grew exponentially.
Once, Tang Mujin could never have done such a thing. Now, he felt no guilt.
Could he do this to others in the future? He did not know. But at least for Baek Choo-seo, he would spare nothing.
After seven or eight cycles of air and poison, Baek Choo-seo was half-mad. He screamed incoherently and clawed at the floor.
When Tang Mujin pulled him to let him breathe again and prepared to throw him back, Baek Choo-seo slammed his inner-energy-charged fingers into the floorboards.
All he gained was a few gulps of clean air. But with that short reprieve, his thoughts cleared a step further.
"This bastard wants Salmak, and I owe Salmak no loyalty."
He cut straight to the point. Negotiation only worked with those willing to negotiate.
"Salmak! Salmak's branch leader in Jeonwon—east of Jeonwon, behind Jo-wol Pavilion! You'll find him there!"
"Good. Salmak… that matters too…"
Tang Mujin muttered weakly as he dragged Baek Choo-seo back. Baek Choo-seo's fingers could not withstand Tang Mujin's power.
The floorboards splintered, his fingers wrenched free, and Tang Mujin flung him back into the room without a trace of emotion.
Baek Choo-seo twisted in agony as he inhaled the poison again, his eyes rolling back as he screamed.
"What—what do you want from me?! Say it!"
"What I want isn't something you can give, no matter how hard you try."
"Then kill me!"
"There's no need to rush. You've breathed in enough poison—you'll be dead by dawn. Don't think anyone will come to save you. Everyone inside the Ten-Thousand Barrier has been put to sleep."
Baek Choo-seo trembled. It wasn't fear of death. From the moment he was subdued and forced to breathe the poison, he knew he was a dead man.
The problem was that it was evening now—and he would have to endure this hellish pain until dawn.
With a voice like a rasp, he cried out:
"Now! Kill me now! Please!"
Tang Mujin silently regarded him, recalling the words of the Gu-Dok-Seo. When it came to harming others, the Demon Doctor's knowledge was unparalleled.
A suitable method came to mind. Tang Mujin grabbed Baek Choo-seo's throat and drove a savage kick into his lower abdomen. His dantian shattered, his inner energy scattered.
"Ghhkk…"
It must have been unbearable pain, yet Baek Choo-seo barely reacted. The torment of the poison far outweighed the pain of his broken dantian.
Tang Mujin set him upright, propped up a table in the room, and tied Baek Choo-seo's upper body to it with a long rope. Still, he writhed in agony.
Tang Mujin spoke softly.
"If you want to be freed from pain even a little sooner, it's best to stay still now."
At those words, Baek Choo-seo's struggles slowed.
Then Tang Mujin extended his forefinger and pressed it to Baek Choo-seo's forehead.
From his fingertip oozed a thick, black drop of poison, which smeared onto Baek Choo-seo's skin.
Next, Tang Mujin drew a dagger and nicked the tip of Baek Choo-seo's nose, leaving a tiny wound.
"What's on your forehead now is the sap from the root-tuber of Death's Bloom. Once it mixes with your blood, you'll die instantly. And it won't be all that painful."
He bound Baek Choo-seo's arms to the table so he couldn't move them, and continued:
"Until the poison drips from your forehead into that wound on your nose, don't thrash about. Endure quietly, and you'll die quickly. But if you struggle and it flows elsewhere, you'll die in far greater pain. Simple, isn't it?"
When Tang Mujin finished, Baek Choo-seo froze, eyes wide.
He could no longer surrender to instinct, no longer thrash blindly. Now he had to feel every sensation, perceive it fully, accept it, and endure.
His eyes were bloodshot, the whites entirely crimson. His skin flushed red, darkening toward black as the toxin spread.
The sticky drop of poison slid down slower than expected.
But Baek Choo-seo endured with superhuman patience. Not to survive—but to die.
And after who knows how long, the drop on his forehead finally reached the cut on his nose.
Baek Choo-seo's face twisted in a grotesque mix of pain and ecstasy as he met death.
Tang Mujin confirmed he was dead, then left the Baek family estate.
***
Outside, the chill night wind struck him, and only then did he feel blood flowing to his head again.
Tang Mujin recalled Baek Choo-seo's words.
"East… behind Jo-wol Pavilion, the warehouse."
He melted into the darkness, heading eastward through Jeonwon.