What happens when a man who once healed the sick and saved lives becomes consumed with hatred?

That man becomes the Poison Demon.

He grew stronger through knowledge of the body and medicine—but that wasn’t enough. So he began studying poison. The feet that once tirelessly moved through clinics to treat the suffering now carried him into the wild in search of deadly toxins.

And when even that wasn’t enough, the Poison Demon decided it would be impossible to kill the Great Rakshasa head-on. So he began experimenting with poison on his own body. Poisoning and curing himself, over and over. The physician who had once devoted himself to others spent long, bitter years biding his time—until he finally killed the Great Rakshasa.

But was his heart content after fulfilling that revenge?

When I met him in my past life, he had already killed the Great Rakshasa. But that wasn’t the end. The Poison Demon did not spare the Great Rakshasa’s disciples. He hunted them down and killed them one by one. Even ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ those among the Twelve Divine Generals who had cast off their titles and tried to live quietly—he found them all, and he killed them too.

By the time I met him, the Poison Demon didn’t just hate martial artists. He hated people.

No one had dared help him as he descended into madness, all because they feared the Great Rakshasa. And yet, he had once saved countless patients.

That’s how Murong Baek, the Divine Physician, became one with the shadows of Jianghu.

I learned the origin of that hatred over drinks with the Poison Demon.

Back when he was just an ordinary physician, he had saved the Great Rakshasa from a grave injury. He had repeatedly pulled members of the Twelve Divine Generals back from the brink of death.

And in the end, Murong Baek went looking for those ungrateful patients—so he could kill them all with poison.

I’ll never forget the look on his face when I met him. It was utterly empty.

Once you’ve killed everyone you swore revenge on, once the blazing fury finally dies out…

What do you live for after that?

He had no loved ones left. No enemies to kill. Nothing.

The Poison Demon continued researching poisons and cultivating martial arts. Perhaps he believed someone would come for him, seeking revenge for the Great Rakshasa.

The reason I hold some deep gratitude toward that Poison Demon is because—

He broke his vow never to save anyone again and used the medical skills he hadn’t forgotten to pull me out of internal deviation.

A man slowly losing his mind must have seen some part of himself in me, someone who had already been mad for a long time. Maybe that was it. Kindred spirits, in a twisted kind of way.

I sat alone in the waiting area, and couldn’t help but recall those memories.

***

Murong Baek returned after seeing to his patients and took a seat again, calmly explaining their conditions.

“It’s not serious. Don’t worry.”

I wasn’t worried to begin with, but I nodded with a serious look anyway. He probably assumed I was the guardian for both patients.

He continued.

“Strangely, both have only light physical injuries, but their psychological state is unstable. Especially Divine General Hongshin—she seems to have gone several days without sleep. She kept asking what her Senior Brother was doing and complaining about diarrhea. People tend to get real honest when they’re half-awake.”

He looked at me as if to say, Care to explain what this is all about?

“Is diarrhea considered a serious illness?”

“It can be, depending on the situation.”

“What kind of situation?”

“You’re in Jianghu, aren’t you? If you encounter an enemy and get the runs, you could lose your life. That makes it a deadly condition.”

“Mhm.”

To think I’d ever be having a deep, thoughtful conversation about diarrhea with the man who once became the Poison Demon.

But knowing his personality, I decided to explain the situation.

“In truth, I told Sister Hong it was Gu poison, but it was just a laxative. I ordered her to kill Nok-sul, Hwang-o, and Baekja—the most brutal among the Twelve Divine Generals. If she had kept resisting me, I would’ve killed her like I did the Black Cat Gang Leader. So in a way, the laxative isn’t killing her—it’s saving her.”

And so I made my case with a bit of Applied Diarrhea Theory.

Murong Baek managed to hold back a laugh, though his nostrils flared for a moment.

“I see. Then if I prescribe something to stop the diarrhea…”

I snapped my fingers.

“You’d gain a reputation for curing Gu poison. Brilliant.”

“I’ll pass on that.”

“Anyway, since she took care of Nok-sul, I promised her treatment. I’d like your help with that, Murong.”

“Understood. It’s not difficult—leave it to me.”

Strange how serious this conversation about stopping diarrhea had become. I met Murong Baek’s eyes and gave a small nod.

“Let’s wrap up the poop talk here.”

“Agreed. By the way, it seems Divine General Geum Hae also suffered psychological trauma.”

I asked Murong Baek,

“You know what that guy loves most?”

“I mean, I don’t mean to speak ill of him, but I’d guess… money, elixirs, and food.”

“Spot on. He lost a good chunk of internal energy fighting me, and I took his money too.”

“I see. People who are used to winning often take failure much harder.”

I nodded and pointed toward the patient room.

“Start by pulling Hongshin out of the pit, then come back.”

“I’ll return shortly.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

As I watched Murong Baek’s back retreat, I couldn’t help but think—

That line about successful people being crushed by failure? It applies to you too, you know.

But it doesn’t apply to me.

I have very few memories of success.

My inn went under. I became a gravekeeper and got chased out by my employer. I had a streak of losses in Biwu Gambling. I trained in martial arts and took the wrong path, falling into internal deviation. Haomun collapsed not long after I founded it. Whether it was martial arts or medicine, nothing ever went smoothly for me.

My entire past life was one long streak of failure.

That’s why I ended up hunted by both the Martial Alliance and the Demonic Sect.

And eventually… I swallowed the Heavenly Pearl.

Failure, to me, is just part of the process.

What matters is not cutting yourself down and enduring through it.

Suddenly, from the patient room, I heard Hongshin’s voice.

“Thank you!”

Exactly. Gratitude is enough to live by.

The hope that the diarrhea would stop, and the anticipation of passing a proper solid stool—that alone was enough for Hongshin to start calling Murong Baek “Doctor” with genuine respect.

He was once revered like that. And when his patients betrayed him horrifically…

That’s how the Divine Physician’s title was lost, and the Poison Demon was born.

Which is why the Great Rakshasa must die by my hand—before Murong Baek goes mad.

That said, sitting here alone with my thoughts kept spiraling back to poop, so I made an effort to calm my mind.

Every now and then, the lovely clinic assistants passed by, giving me slight bows.

Their faces were pale and beautiful, their clothes pure white, and all I could think about was poop. I suddenly felt a bit guilty.

What a pathetic bastard.

Murong Baek gave some final instructions to the assistants inside, then came walking back out.

“Sect Leader, I think Divine General Hongshin needs some sleep. And Divine General Geum Hae’s recovery will take time due to extended breathing exercises. You could return tomorrow and it would be just fine.”

“You busy today?”

“Not particularly.”

I gestured to the seat across from me.

When he sat down, I slid a box of gold bars toward him. He looked at the box and asked,

“What is this?”

“Your payment.”

“May I open it?”

“Of course.”

Murong Baek opened it—and saw a full stack of standard gold bars inside.

“This is too much. How many are there?”

“Fifty.”

“May I ask why you’re giving me so much?”

“To be honest… I could use a bit of breathing meditation myself. While waiting for my disciples to heal, I’d like a quiet bed to rest in. Nothing fancy.”

“That’s not a problem, but then…”

He took out three gold bars and pushed the rest of the box back toward me.

“This alone is more than enough.”

We wrestled with it briefly.

“Take it.”

“I’ll have to decline.”

I remembered how stubborn the Poison Demon had been in my past life.

With a gentler face, Murong Baek said,

“Sect Leader, as a physician, I’ve always treated people without discrimination. But as a person, of course I have my own likes and dislikes. Use this money for what you intend. I’ve taken fifty—but I’m returning forty-seven for you to use as war funds.”

Money is meant to be earned and scattered like petals.

Murong Baek just gathered those petals and threw them right back in my face.

And if you look closely at his words…

He was telling me to use that money to kill the Great Rakshasa.

“I figured you’d refuse, so fine. I’ll use it.”

“Yes.”

“But this, you will have to accept.”

Round two had begun.

I pushed the box containing the four White Flame roots toward Murong Baek, already preparing my counterarguments for whatever excuse he might use to refuse.

“You need to stay healthy if you’re going to keep saving people.”

Murong Baek didn’t even bother opening the box. He just smiled.

“Sect Leader.”

“Yes, go on.”

“To fully absorb the effects of these roots, I’d need to spend at least ten days focused solely on breathing meditation. But patients come to me every day—I can’t just abandon my post. Isn’t this something you need more than I do? I’m just grateful you’ve thought so highly of a humble countryside physician. Go ahead and take them yourself, right here and now. I’ll prepare a decoction to help you regain your balance quickly.”

This is the kind of man I’m dealing with.

I lost the war of words. Simple as that.

“……”

With no sharp comeback, I started rummaging in my head for something witty to say. In the meantime, Murong Baek called over the physician’s assistants and gave out instructions.

“Escort the Sect Leader to the innermost room. He’ll be entering breathing meditation after taking the elixirs, so take extra care.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And hang a sign outside saying I’m unavailable until tomorrow morning. Close up early today—I have other matters to attend to.”

“Understood.”

While the physicians and assistants moved in perfect sync, I just sat there obediently, playing the role of a patient.

“Sect Leader? Shall we go?”

“I only paid you three gold bars… is this really okay?”

Murong Baek chuckled as he replied,

“I’ve just gained a guest stronger than the Black Cat Gang Leader. That’s a good day for us. I look forward to working with you, Sect Leader.”

And so, a man whose head had been full of thoughts about poop followed a group of pristine white-clad assistants into the inner rooms.

***

Left alone for a moment, Murong Baek stood with his hands behind his back, watching his assistants bustle about before he slipped into his office.

He untied his sweat-dampened headband, washed his hands and face, then tied a fresh one neatly across his forehead.

Next, he opened drawers filled with medicinal ingredients and carefully began selecting the ones he needed, placing them one by one on the table. While doing so, he recalled the Sect Leader of Haomun—his speech, expression, complexion, and breathing—and thought about which herbs would best temper the effects of the White Flame root.

“…He seems to have some kind of underlying fire imbalance,” he muttered.

Murong Baek believed a physician should not take a patient’s words at face value.

Some of the ingredients needed to be finely ground into powder, so he sat down and began chopping them himself. It was a time-consuming task.

But the effectiveness of medicine often depends on such small, deliberate acts of care.

Normally, he would have left this to an assistant, but today, he chose to prepare everything by hand.

Naturally, as he worked, his mind kept returning to the patient.

To Murong Baek, the Sect Leader of Haomun was an unusual man—someone with an impressively narrow range of emotion. He made frequent jokes, but that was just surface-level.

At his core, he didn’t show strong joy or anger. He was a man of cold, measured feeling.

Drawing on his studies, his readings, and his own observations of human behavior, Murong Baek came to a conclusion.

If things went poorly, this was a man who would declare war on the world itself.

If things went well, he’d gather people under his wing and protect them.

The key was—whether it ended in war or peace, this was no ordinary man.

If you had to categorize him, he was a wartime man. A general.

No matter how his future unfolded, he was born to lead.

That was why Murong Baek worked even harder on the medicine.

He wanted this man to spend his money well, recover from his fire imbalance, avoid future heart demons, defeat the Great Rakshasa, rise to glory, and—if possible—look out for Murong Medical House along the way.

He gathered the best herbs and ground them into powder with quiet, sincere care.

After a long period of concentration, Murong Baek found the corner of his mouth curling upward. Before long, he broke into a smile he couldn’t suppress and had to stop for a moment.

“Ah… that damn diarrhea story keeps popping into my head. Damn it.”

And so, the man who had once become the Poison Demon… laughed. Brightly, openly.