Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain

Chapter 227: Dodge?!

The powerful slap left Otis stunned, frozen in place. He didn’t react for a long moment, until a thick, warm trickle flowed from his nose, snapping him back to reality.

“What do you think you’re doing?! I’m warning you, we live in a society with laws! I’ll call the police and have you arrested!” He clamped a hand over his freely bleeding nose, backing away nervously, eyeing Alex who was still rolling up his sleeves menacingly.

“Oh, now you remember it’s a society with laws? Funny how you didn’t mention the law when your precious student killed someone while ‘treating’ them on the street!” Alex showed no mercy, landing a solid punch right in Otis’s left eye socket.

Thud!

Otis crumpled to the floor. Alex hadn’t held back at all. Otis’s left eye socket was already visibly swelling and turning dark. The red mark from the slap still stood out on his cheek, and blood continued to pour from his nose.

Otis was over eighty years old. Since becoming famous, he had never been treated like this. Forget being physically attacked; he’d rarely even faced verbal disrespect.

“Young people these days have no martial ethics! You actually launched a sneak attack!” Otis couldn’t care less about his image now. He clapped a hand over half his face; through the gaps between his fingers, his left eye socket could be seen turning a deep purple-black. His white robes were stained with blood.

“So what if you’re a miracle doctor? Think you’re high and mighty?” Alex stepped forward and landed two more quick punches Pow! Pow! instantly giving the old man a matching set of black eyes.

“I was careless… I didn’t dodge…” With both eye sockets now pounded purple-black, Otis’s vision blurred. He couldn’t see anything clearly.

Otis finally started to panic. This wasn’t like the world of respected masters he remembered. Not at all. Who just starts beating someone up immediately, especially an eighty-year-old man with no fighting ability?

His vision was so bad everything looked like a blurry mosaic; he couldn’t tell direction. But he remembered the poison his old friend had given him before he left the mountain it was in his chest pocket.

He hadn’t thought he’d need it, but this brat Alex had no sense of honor, sneak-attacking an old man right off the bat.

He fumbled around in his robes, finally managing to pull out a small black jar after much effort. He wasn’t sure exactly what it did, but he knew it was definitely something nasty.

Otis clutched the small black jar in his left hand and tried to twist the lid off with his right. But with both eyes swollen shut, he couldn’t see a thing. His right hand fumbled blindly for a long moment, not even managing to find the opening of the jar.

“Still trying to poison me?” Alex stood nearby, watching with amusement as the battered Otis tried desperately to open the poison jar, fumbling comically without being able to grasp the lid.

“A supposedly great miracle doctor like you, carrying poison around? You’ve got some rotten intentions, don’t you!”

Alex found five or six strange little bottles and jars on Otis. Didn’t take a genius to figure out they were prepared by Eric’s master.

Got to admit, Otis’s title as a ‘miracle doctor’ wasn’t just for show. Even after getting beaten up badly by Alex, his eighty-something-year-old body, aside from the obvious bruises and cuts, showed surprisingly little sign of internal injury.

His bones were tough.

Right now, Otis was lying on the ground, face swollen and bruised. The elegant white robe he arrived in was torn and stained with blood.

He lay there, not begging for mercy, not saying a word.

He was just filled with regret. He shouldn’t have come looking for Alex right after getting off the train. This spoiled brat didn’t play by the rules, didn’t follow any expected script.

He should have settled down first, gathered the people he’d saved in the past, built up some support, then dealt with this shameless punk Alex who had no respect for proper conduct.

Too bad it was too late for regrets now.

Seeing Otis was sufficiently beaten, Alex pulled out the silver coin and held it close to the old man’s face. The coin gleamed, but Otis’s vision was blurry; he could only see something shiny flashing in front of him.

Then, his consciousness started to fade.

This was exactly why Alex beat Otis up first. Otis might be terrible at fighting, but he was a miracle doctor, the inventor of the Acupuncture. His mental strength was definitely way higher than average.

Trying to hypnotize him right off the bat probably wouldn’t have worked and might have just alerted him.

But a good beating solved everything.

After hypnotizing Otis, Alex pulled two pills he’d prepared long ago from his system storage: the [Awesome Dick Pill] and the [Opposite Sex Pill].

He’d had these ready for Eric for a while. He was sure Eric would love this gift.

Handing the two pills to Otis, Alex said calmly, “You didn’t come down the mountain this time for revenge for Eric. You came to clean house. Eric’s actions have severely tarnished the name of his Valley. You came down to cut off ties as master and student. However, since you were once his master, leave these two pills for him before you go…”

Soon, the hypnosis was complete.

Otis’s understanding of reality had been rewritten.

Otis shakily climbed up from the ground, his mind now filled only with disapproval for his student, Eric.

Placing the two pills carefully into one of the small jars, Otis staggered out. Halfway down the path, he finally noticed his injuries. But mere flesh wounds meant nothing to a miracle doctor. A few well-placed needles, and most of the pain vanished.

The external wounds would still take time to fully heal, but Otis didn’t care about that now. The most important thing was his new mission: cleaning house.

…

While Otis stumbled away from the Club, far away in a room at Reid’s Hospital, Eric’s mood had improved considerably.

Mike had told him the letter he wrote had been successfully delivered.

Eric was confident his masters would arrive soon to save him, and his… dick.

After observing things lately, Eric was sure his ‘dick’ was definitely broken. Before, just seeing the nurses walk by would occasionally get a rise out of him. But now? Nothing. Absolutely zero reaction.

So little reaction… he was almost getting used to it.

Those idiot specialists hadn’t come to torture him these past few days, so the injuries on his butt had mostly healed. He could even walk around without crutches now.

But while his backside was getting better, his ‘dick’ showed no signs of life. In fact, just that morning, when he went to the bathroom, he had bizarrely, almost unconsciously, squatted down to pee.

And at the time, he hadn’t even thought anything was wrong! It felt completely natural, like that’s how it was supposed to be.

Thinking back on it later made Eric break down completely.

These strange physical and mental changes made Eric miserable, terrified even.

But he wasn’t too worried now. The call for help was sent. His masters were coming to save him soon!

As long as his Master arrived, both he and his ‘dick’ would be cured. Completely cured, with no side effects whatsoever.

Eric was suffering, but now he had hope.

The only thing that made him uncomfortable was his roommate, the big G-man Mike. Mike kept staring at his backside with undying interest. Especially after Eric asked him to deliver the letter, Mike’s gaze became even more blatant.

He’d just stare openly, practically drooling.

Furthermore, Eric had learned from a friendly young nurse that Mike could have actually been discharged days ago. His butt injury was completely healed.

The hospital had even advised Mike several times that he could leave, but Mike stubbornly refused to go, paying his hospital bills without fail, refusing to budge his butt from that bed.

Mike’s intentions were obvious to everyone.

He’s watching me!

More accurately, he’s watching my backside!

Someone whose ‘dick’ was completely useless, and whose back door had been thoroughly… widened… held an unimaginable attraction for people like Mike.

But Eric felt helpless about it.

After all, Mike had done him the favor of delivering his letter.

(Though Eric never actually intended to fulfill his side of that particular bargain.)

Just as Eric was standing with his butt slightly sticking out, gazing at the freely flying birds outside the window and thinking birdly thoughts, a voice he’d been longing to hear suddenly came from the doorway.

“Eric is in this room, right?”

The voice wasn’t loud, but it was very distinct.

The familiar sound made Eric jump off the hospital bed instantly. The barely healed skin on his backside tore open again.

But Eric didn’t care, didn’t even notice. Seriously, his Master was here! Who cares about some torn skin on his butt? That wasn’t important anymore!

Was his butt more important than his ‘dick’? Obviously not!

Eric stood trembling beside the bed, staring eagerly at the closed white door. Though it was close, it felt incredibly far away to him.

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