Chapter 3: Revenge, I Mean It

"Young man, am I right in what I just said?"
The Poop Monster Uncle recited everything Li Changluo knew, not missing a single detail.
Although Li Changluo disliked the foul stench clinging to this uncle, he couldn't help but respect the man's getup. After all...
He still hadn't given up on his dream of marrying into wealth and power.
In this bizarre world, if he wanted to make a name for himself, this was the fastest and most beautiful opportunity.
But thinking it over, it was unlikely that the man's daughter would coincidentally die and end up here.
Still, if he couldn't be his son-in-law, at the very least, he could try to become his brother-in-arms.
"Uncle, you are simply amazing," Li Changluo said, eyes full of admiration as he gave the Poop Monster a thumbs up.
"But, Uncle..."
"Is something wrong?"
"Why is your hand on my butt? What's the principle behind that?"
"Don't tell me that's your special ability—reading minds through touching someone's bottom?"
"No, no, no, how about considering the position of a consort?"
Son-in-law?
Brother?
Consort!
Li Changluo was stunned and immediately shifted away.
"I've been in this tavern for over two thousand years. I've seen everything there is to see. You little runts, when you walk into this tavern, even your expressions are all the same. Why would I need telepathy to know what you're thinking?"
The Poop Monster poured himself another drink and sipped with satisfaction.
Who knew if there was a hint of rice paddy flavor in his wine?
"Uncle, you've been here for more than two thousand years?" Normally, except for today each month when monsters gathered, the tavern was just a place where monsters came and went, and Li Changluo had never noticed this uncle's presence.
In other words, how did this old guy manage to be so unnoticeable?
"Truly evergreen, never willing to leave," Blackwa said, chewing his food and butting in, "Uncle, you've been here for more than two thousand years, why are you still squatting in the corner? Don't you like sitting at a table? You could at least squat on a bench."
For some reason, Li Changluo found Blackwa's misuse of idioms oddly jarring.
"You foreign creature, watch your mouth," the Poop Monster retorted, pointing to his wine, "I just like drinking here."
Li Changluo asked curiously, "You can't taste wine inside?"
"Inside? Taste wine?" The Poop Monster gestured toward the smoky interior. "That crowd in there—do they have any idea what it means to savor wine?"
"In my eyes, they're all just a bunch of drunks."
"People drink for the wine, for people, for themselves. I just want to quietly be a gentleman who appreciates good wine. I don't need to drink with others. Why can't I savor it here?"
It's really just because you stink.
No one wants you around!
They won't let you sit at the table!
Li Changluo admired this Poop Monster who had endured over two millennia, always talking in such clever circles.
He could even make showing off seem so fresh and unique—truly worthy of his long years.
"But Uncle, you haven't done much else in these two thousand years, have you? Even the way you speak has been worn down by time?" In Li Changluo's understanding, ancient people from two thousand years ago all spoke in classical, scholarly language—not like this.
"That's nothing. There are a bunch of foreigners outside practicing a song called ‘Obscure Characters.’ If they can't master it, they're not even allowed to step inside. Who knows how many foreign monsters have gone mad because of it," the Poop Monster lamented.
"There are monsters outside who can't get in?" Li Changluo asked, intrigued.
In his mind, this monster tavern was like an inn from a martial arts novel—a place where wandering heroes rested when wounded or tired.
As long as you had silver in your pocket, you'd have fine wine in your bowl.
Swords, wine, the martial world, and inns—all indispensable.
He never expected there to be such a thing as refusing guests.
Was the tavern really that arrogant?
"You didn't know that? How did you get in here?" the Poop Monster asked, looking at Li Changluo curiously.
Li Changluo glanced at Blackwa, who was still stuffing his face.
Blackwa nodded, "That's right. Only monsters who have signed a contract with the tavern can enter."
"Contract? What contract? Why the hell didn't you tell me about this?"
"How much did you sell me for?"
"Care to share some with me?"
"Shut up, you slave to money," Blackwa mumbled with his mouth full. "You were almost dead when you got here. Signing the contract got you a sip of wine and brought you back to life."
Almost dead? Why not say I was shattered to pieces? The expression's wrong anyway.
Still, was I so handsome that all I got in exchange was a sip of wine?
Li Changluo didn't buy it and rummaged through Blackwa's bag, trying to find the contract.
He found nothing.
In truth, the moment Li Changluo arrived at the monster tavern, contracts and dignity meant little. Survival was all that mattered. He'd already died once; now, even as a monster, he intended to live well.
"There are rules for humans, and there are laws for monsters. If you break the terms of the contract, you'll..."
Before the Poop Monster finished, he lifted his empty wine jug high, as if by raising it higher, some wine might trickle out after all.
He shook it for a long while, but not a drop came out. At last, he set it down, still unsated, and continued:
"Monsters outside are desperate to get in for survival, but little do they know, the monsters inside want to get out for the same reason."
"It's all because of greed."
Without waiting for Li Changluo’s response, he snatched the jug from Li Changluo’s hand and lifted it high as well.
"Uncle, you've stayed here a thousand years—what kind of monster am I?"
Li Changluo felt troubled. Amid all these demons and spirits, he was the only one who looked remotely human, which made him the butt of everyone's jokes in the tavern.
It was as if a group of pigs were crowding around a man and saying, ‘Damn, this guy is so dirty-looking. Not like us, with our cute big ears and lovely snouts. We can't have him staying in our pigsty. Get out.’
Yet, the joke was, if he didn't stay in the pigsty, he'd really die.
So into the pigsty he went.
Wasn't it said that whatever you died from in life, that's what you'd become as a monster?
The last thing Li Changluo remembered before coming to this world was his teeth aching from citric acid—almost unbearably so.
A bit stupid, perhaps.
But being a Lemon Monster didn't sound half bad.
Sour and sweet at once.
But even after drinking the tavern’s special wine that was supposed to restore a monster’s original form, his body remained unchanged.
The Poop Monster watched the monsters, now full and satisfied, trickling out of the tavern, and muttered, "Don’t be fooled by the ragtag bunch you see here now. The truly powerful monsters don’t need this wine—they can stay in human form at will with their immense power."
"You mean, I’m a great monster, or I have infinite power, so I can keep my human form?"
At the thought, Li Changluo felt a surge of heat.
It was as if boundless strength was roaring inside him, ready to explode.
Was he about to transcend?
Transform into a great demon?
Crush all the monsters who mocked him?
"No, your power level is just one—you’re as weak as they come. There’s another possibility—you’re a human monster," the Poop Monster said, face red and steaming, slowly withdrawing his hands from Li Changluo’s chest.
"What are you doing?"
"Touching your chest, obviously."
"Why?"
"Testing your power level, what else? What did you think, little enemy of mine?"
"...My power level is only one?"
Unwilling to accept it, Li Changluo asked about Blackwa.
The Poop Monster glanced at Blackwa and said indifferently, "That foreign monster’s power is ten times yours. Ten. Not bad at all."
So you could test power levels just like that? Wasn’t this all a little too slapdash?
What about all that talk of touching chests?
Are you messing with me?
Just then, the sated monsters began to regain their human forms. Some left the tavern, but more crowded around a plank of wood in the center, glowing faint yellow.
Dressed in all manner of odd clothing, monsters from different races whispered among themselves.
"Wonder what missions will pop up today?"
"Hope it’s not changing diapers for the little monsters in kindergarten again."
"Last time, I took a mission to chase down a Car Monster. Damn thing turned into Bumblebee and beat me to a pulp."
"Where’s Snake Spirit?"
"Snake Spirit's sick."
"How long till the missions refresh?"
"Any minute now."
The place was packed. Li Changluo knew the mission board was about to update, and the monsters were all waiting for a task suited to them.
Humans have cash.
Ghosts have spirit money.
But for monsters, that stuff is useless.
You can’t even save your life with it—what’s the point?
The rewards from missions could be exchanged for food and drink to keep them alive, and sometimes, for items to increase their power.
Li Changluo sighed—it's tough to make it in life without skills, and it’s just as hard for monsters; you need social skills to survive.
What happened to scaring crowds just by showing up?
What happened to turning stones into gold and having wives galore?
Being a monster was just as miserable.
"Gentlemen, I’ll take my leave. Until next time," the Poop Monster said, returning to his pale, long-bearded human form. He seemed disinclined to join the commotion and was preparing to leave, bowing slightly to the two of them.
"Uncle, wait!" Li Changluo called after him.
With a wink, Li Changluo pulled a delicate embroidered handkerchief with mandarin ducks from his bag and handed it to the Poop Monster. "That twisty one wanted me to give this to you. After the party, in the room—you know."
He’d swiped it from the busboy.
"Twisty one?"
"Yeah, the twisty one."
The Poop Monster took the handkerchief, and an indescribable smile spread across his stern face. "Joy, but not excess."
Li Changluo nodded in return.
Say whatever you like—just go have your fun.
The Poop Monster sniffed the handkerchief with relish and headed up to the second floor.
Li Changluo knew the second floor was for lodgers, and the snobbish busboy was there too.
"Tch, damn greed," Blackwa muttered, quietly pocketing the food Li Changluo hadn’t finished and munching away.
"Yes, damn greed. But why spit food in my face?" Li Changluo wiped the crumbs from his face and glared at Blackwa.
"Greed is written all over your face."
"That’s not greed—it’s the look of vengeance. Please, get it right." Li Changluo glanced at the Poop Monster, who was leaving with the handkerchief, and grinned. "He does love twisty things. I’m just being helpful."
A gentleman’s revenge can wait ten years; Li Changluo’s can’t wait even a minute.
"You really are shameless," Blackwa said.
"Please, stop misusing idioms, will you? Promise me."
"Aren’t you going to take a mission?"
"Is taking a mission as satisfying as revenge? Besides, can you beat all those brutes to it? Better to let them have their pick and choose from what’s left."
"..."
Li Changluo quietly slipped after the Poop Monster up to the second floor.