Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain

'Hmm... I should prepare some extra poisons before I go.'

'Three days was too short. This time, it should be seven days... No, a month.'

"You might be right." Seemingly convinced, the white-haired old man went back to adding firewood to the stove.

After a moment, he turned around, smiling. "Oren took another student, you know. A girl this time."

"Leading another young person astray," the black-robed man said contemptuously.

He'd never respected Oren. Just some useless fortune teller, hah!

Just as the two were about to finally ladle out the soup, a small figure zipped into the bamboo house. The newcomer was short, less than 1.3 meters tall, wearing purple shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, with a buzz cut, a thick gold chain around his neck, and a solid gold Rolex on his wrist.

"You always have the best nose. The second the pot's ready, you show up," the black-robed man said, handing the short old man a chipped porcelain bowl, about to serve him some soup.

"Eric's in trouble," the short old man said, holding the bowl and panting heavily.

"What happened?" The white-haired old man quickly put the lid back on the pot, his expression serious.

The black-robed man also turned grave, stopping the motion of rolling the blood-red walnuts in his hand.

The short old man pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and opened it.

"That's Eric's handwriting," the white-haired old man recognized it instantly. "It's so ugly, no one could possibly fake it."

A strange silence fell over the bamboo house.

Outside, the setting sun painted the clouds red, bathing the entire valley in a crimson glow.

After a moment, the black-robed man stood up. Dark mist seemed to curl from between his teeth as he put down his porcelain bowl. "I'll go."

"The blood poison in your system is about to act up. You shouldn't fight right now. Let me go," the short old man said, his face twisting fiercely. The gold chain around his neck rattled ('ka ka') as killing intent radiated from him, almost thick enough to see.

"You?" The black-robed man let out a puff of black air as he spoke, baring his teeth. "The international assassin organization still has a kill order out for you. You want to leave the mountain? Are you tired of living?"

"But..."

Before the short old man could finish, the white-haired old man waved his hand, cutting him off. "Stop arguing, you two. One of you has blood poison ready to explode at any moment, and the other has a kill order hanging over his head. I should be the one to go."

"But you don't know martial arts."

"And you don't know how to use poison. You're no match for anyone in a fight!"

The other two hadn't even considered the white-haired old man initially precisely because he was just a doctor – a very pure doctor.

He... couldn't fight!

Their student was being bullied down the mountain. As his masters, whoever went would definitely need to teach the bully a harsh lesson. Fists would absolutely fly.

What good would a doctor who couldn't fight, injure, or kill anyone be?

"Sigh!"

The white-haired old man shook his head, pretending to be profound. "What era is this? Still thinking about fighting and killing all the time. Today's society is all about connections and knowing how to handle people, not just violence."

Saying this, the white-haired old man stood up, stroking his beard. "I'll go to the Dawson Family in City first to understand the situation. Don't worry. I might not know how to fight, but I know how to use my brain."

'What's that supposed to mean? Is he saying we don't use our brains?'

The black-robed man and the short old man thought about it, glanced at each other, and then the short man said, "Just make sure you stay safe."

The black-robed man added, "I'll give you some extra doses of poison to take with you, just in case."

"Okay."

He didn't refuse. Even though he thought he wouldn't need them, they wouldn't take up much space.

….

While the white-haired old man traveled through the night, Alex was also busy under the moonlight, having his own intense "ride." One journeyed for the male lead, the other, well, was preoccupied with the female lead.

The night passed quietly.

In the morning, after a long and busy night, Alex sat eating the loving breakfast Sera had made.

Maybe it was Sera's skill, or maybe she just put extra care into it, but Alex felt her cooking tasted way better than anything he could buy outside.

Her cooking skills were surprisingly impressive, almost on par with her... kicking skills.

Alex felt quite qualified to judge both.

People complain about the national football team, hah! That's only because they haven't experienced the real deal when it comes to feet.

Just as he was focusing on his fried egg, Sera, having finished cleaning the kitchen, had already changed and was ready to leave.

"Where are you going so early?" Alex glanced at the wall clock. It wasn't even eight yet.

With a sausage sticking out of her mouth, Sera pouted. "Going to the library to save a seat! Final exams are coming up, I need to study."

If you hadn't mentioned it, I'd almost forgotten you were still a college student... Alex calmly swallowed his fried egg, showing no sign of getting up.

If he were one of those typical 'Sons of Luck', he'd probably skip breakfast and rush to drive the female lead to school.

No... wait, he'd probably have already saved her a seat himself.

Too bad Alex wasn't a Son Of Luck and didn't really care much about being overly gentle or chivalrous. He slowly took a sip of millet porridge. "Sit down and finish eating first. Don't worry about saving a seat; I'll have someone save one for you."

"Who?" Sera put down her backpack and sat across from Alex, still chewing her sausage.

"Riley, of course," Alex said casually.

He only really knew two people at University. Who else would he ask?

"…."

I should have known. You really have no shame!

After another sip of porridge, Alex sent Riley a message, asking her to save an extra seat in the library. Hmm... better make sure they weren't saved together.

It wasn't the best time for those two to meet privately yet. At least, not without him there. Who knows what two women might talk about?

"Oh, by the way, the Kleinberg Industries took on that project in the next province," Alex mentioned casually while wiping his mouth after finishing his porridge.

So, they're expanding outwards... Sera wasn't involved in the company's day-to-day business; Alex handled all that. "You can decide what's best. I'll just wait for my share of the profits."

Although she said that, she felt a little wistful inside.

Alex had only been in charge of the Kleinberg Industries for such a short time, and he was already expanding? The Kleinberg Industries hadn't managed to reach this step even under her grandfather's leadership.

The Kleinberg Industries's main business was real estate. For a real estate company to expand into another province meant going onto someone else's turf and fighting with the local big shots and established powers for business.

It wasn't just difficult; it was extremely challenging.

Her grandfather couldn't achieve this in his entire lifetime, yet Alex had done it... Sera felt a bit dazed. Maybe... maybe the Kleinberg Industries would truly reach new heights under his control.

…..

Dawson Family Home:-

The head of the Family, usually revered and holding immense authority, now stood to the side of the main hall like a simple butler, leaning on his dragon-head cane.

In front of him, seated in the main master's chair at the center of the hall, was an old man with white hair and a white beard. His face looked kind as he lowered his head to sip his tea.

Despite his white hair, the old man seemed full of energy, radiating vitality. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

The head of the Dawson Family, a man whose mere stomp could make many businessman and family tremble, was acting extremely respectful, almost humble, towards this visitor.

This old man was none other than Otis – the eldest master among Eric Vaughn's three teachers, the one who taught him medicine.

If Eric Vaughn liked to call himself the "Prodigy doctor" who could save lives with one hand and take them with the other, then Otis was the genuine genius. Not just the kind of 'prodigy doctor' Eric boasted about being, but a true medical saint acknowledged by countless people.

In the past, Otis's medical skills were legendary among the elite circles. He had saved countless powerful and wealthy individuals.

The reason his name was so famous specifically among the powerful was simple: he only treated the rich and influential. It was impossible for ordinary or poor people to get his help, no matter how much they begged.