My Cultivation System Runs on Karma

CHAPTER 8: The Hypocrite Smiles

Out in the courtyard, Baek Jin-Woo had drawn his ash-wood sword exactly one inch from its scabbard. 

The rain in the courtyard abruptly stopped falling. The droplets hung suspended in the air, caught in a sudden, suffocating domain of pure Orthodox Qi. The pressure was physical. It felt as though a mountain had been gently placed upon my chest. 

Mu-Rak froze. The blood drained from his bruised face. He slowly turned his head toward the young man on the roof. 

"He took a hit for a mortal," Jin-Woo said. His voice was no longer relaxed. It was cold, carrying the undisputed authority of a sect master. "That places him under my temporary observation. If you take another step toward him, I will cut you into so many pieces your guild won't know what to bury."

Mu-Rak swallowed hard. He was an assassin. He knew how to read power, and the gap between him and the Wandering Sword Genius was an ocean he couldn't cross. 

"The poison will kill him in an hour anyway," Mu-Rak sneered, taking a slow, careful step backward off the porch. He sheathed his dagger. "You're just delaying the inevitable."

He melted into the shadows of the alley, his presence fading like smoke. 

The suffocating pressure in the courtyard vanished. The suspended raindrops crashed down onto the stones all at once. 

Jin-Woo dropped down from the roof, his boots barely making a sound as he walked up to the porch. He looked down at me, his eyes studying the black veins spreading up my neck. 

"Nightshade," Jin-Woo observed mildly. He pointed to the small wooden token he had thrown to me earlier, which now lay near the severed head in the weeds. "That token guarantees asylum. It also guarantees access to the Alliance's physicians inside the Merchant District. You have about sixty minutes before your heart stops. I suggest you start walking."

"Why didn't you... kill him?" I choked out, another mouthful of dark blood spilling past my lips. 

Jin-Woo smiled, the carefree attitude returning instantly. "I'm a wandering scholar of the sword. I don't interfere in the squabbles of assassins unless they bore me. Besides, you need the motivation to walk faster."

He turned and leaped onto the wall, disappearing into the morning mist without another word. 

I let my head fall against the floorboards. The burning in my back was spreading, turning my blood to sludge. I looked at the system window. 

[Warning: Lethal Toxin Detected.]

[Option: Convert 50 Karma to neutralize toxin?]

If I spent the Karma, my balance would hit zero again. I would be instantly thrown back into an Existence Erasure countdown, and I was in no condition to find another beggar to save. I had to keep the Karma to anchor my existence. I had to survive the poison the hard way.

"No," I whispered to the system. 

I forced myself onto my hands and knees. Every movement tore a new groan from my throat. I crawled out onto the porch, ignoring the terrified whimpers of Hye-Won in the kitchen. I dragged myself through the wet weeds, my fingers closing around the Heavenly Sword token. It felt heavy, slick with rain and mud. 

I used the wooden fence to pull myself upright. The world tilted violently. The sky was turning a pale, bruised grey. Morning had arrived. 

I began to walk. 

Each step was a negotiation with gravity. The Beggar District gave way to wider, paved streets. The stench of rotting cabbage was replaced by the smell of wet stone and early morning cooking fires. 

My vision narrowed into a dark tunnel. The black veins crept up past my jaw, making my tongue feel thick and useless. The system continuously flashed red warnings in the corner of my eye, an endless, annoying rhythm that I forced myself to ignore. 

Finally, the imposing wooden gates of the Merchant District loomed ahead. They were massive, banded with iron, and guarded by four men in polished, scale-mail armor bearing the insignia of the Murim Alliance. 

I staggered toward them. My legs gave out ten feet from the gate. I hit the cobblestones hard, scraping my cheek against the rough rock. 

"Halt! State your business!" one of the guards shouted, drawing his spear. He looked at my tattered, bloody clothes with absolute disgust. "Beggars aren't allowed past the outer wall. Turn back."

My vision was swimming. I couldn't speak. My throat was paralyzed by the poison. I forced my right arm to move, sliding it across the wet stones, and opened my bloody fist. 

The dark wood of the Heavenly Sword token rested on my palm. 

The guards froze. They recognized the crest immediately. It was an item of absolute authority. 

"That's... a Heavenly Sword guest token," the guard muttered, his spear dipping slightly. "Fetch the Captain of the Gate. Now."

I rested my forehead against the cold stones, focusing entirely on keeping my heart beating. Just get inside. Just find a physician. 

Heavy, measured footsteps approached. The crisp rustle of high-quality silk cut through the ambient noise of the rain. 

A pair of pristine, gold-trimmed boots stopped inches from my face. 

"A guest token?" a smooth, cultured voice mused. 

I forced my heavy eyelids open and slowly tilted my head up. 

Standing over me was a young man in immaculate azure robes. His posture was perfect, his features sharp and conventionally handsome. He wore a perfectly practiced, gentle smile that didn't reach his cold, calculating eyes. 

Nam Gyu-Jin. The shining star of the Orthodox Alliance. 

I knew him. In my past life, I knew the exact layout of his private estate because I was the one who delivered his bribe money from the Unorthodox factions. He was the most corrupt, sadistic hypocrite in the entire Murim Alliance. 

Gyu-Jin crouched down, unbothered by the mud. He plucked the token from my numb fingers, inspecting it with feigned curiosity. 

"This belongs to Brother Baek Jin-Woo," Gyu-Jin said smoothly, his eyes snapping down to meet mine. The gentle smile vanished, replaced by a look of sheer, predatory malice. "Tell me, street rat. Where did you steal this from?"

I tried to speak, to demand a physician, but only a wet rasp escaped my lips. 

Gyu-Jin stood up, tucking the token into his sleeve. He looked at the guards. 

"This man is an Unorthodox spy. He has stolen from a core disciple of the Heavenly Sword Sect," Gyu-Jin declared, his voice ringing with righteous authority. He looked down at my dying, poisoned body and smiled. "Throw him into the deep interrogation cells. Do not give him medicine. Let's see how long it takes for him to confess."