Chapter 10: Monkey and Bananas

The tavern was rather large, but at that hour, only a few patrons were present. Wiro Sableng swallowed his saliva. He didn’t have much money, but his stomach burned with hunger, and his throat was dry.

Finally, unable to resist, he stepped inside.

He sat down in one corner. The chairs and tables were coated in dust, but Wiro, the long-haired youth, made himself comfortable without a care in the world. A gray-haired old man shuffled over—it was the owner of the tavern.

“Looking to eat, young man?” the man asked.

Wiro nodded. “But don’t make it too expensive. I don’t have much money,” he said bluntly.

The old man furrowed his brow. In all his years running a tavern in the village of Jatiwalu, this was the first time a customer had made such an honest—and pitiful—statement. His eyes studied Wiro from his wild hair down to his dusty feet.

“You must be a traveler.”

“Right,” Wiro said, scratching his scalp. “Now please hurry with the rice, sir. My stomach’s already holding a rebellion!”

The tavern keeper brought him a plate of white rice and a glass of water, placing them on the table in front of Wiro.

Wiro’s mouth watered. For seventeen years, he’d known nothing but red rice and mountain greens on Mount Gede. Now, faced with fluffy white rice, fried fish, and rich, savory curry, the young man tore into the meal with zeal. Sweat beaded on his face. He downed the water like a man just pulled from the desert.

As he rubbed his now bloated stomach in contentment, four men strode into the tavern. All wore black clothes and had machetes strapped to their waists. Their faces were as unpleasant as their manners. They tossed down at a table without invitation. Each of them sported a beard, and each looked like trouble.

The tavern keeper immediately rushed to serve them, clearly intimidated. These four were not ordinary guests. Soon, their table was filled with rich foods and strong liquor poured from bamboo tubes into bamboo cups.

The four ate like pigs, with legs on the table and mouths smacking noisily. The sound of their chewing echoed throughout the tavern—but Wiro paid no mind. They could snort like pigs and he wouldn’t care.

“Sir,” Wiro called. “How much for the meal?”

The tavern keeper told him the price.

“Wah! That’s expensive!” Wiro protested. “I told you not to make it pricey!”

“That’s already the cheapest I can go, young man.”

Wiro scratched his head again. “There goes all my money…” He pulled out the last of his coins and handed them over.

Suddenly, raucous laughter erupted from the other table. One of the black-clad men, fat and bald, sneered, “If you’re broke, why bother eating at a tavern, fool?!”

Another chimed in, “Yeah! If you’re that scared of spending, just dig through a trash heap!”

The group howled with laughter.

Wiro looked at them, unbothered. He simply smiled and scratched his head again.

A man with a long, drooping mustache leered at him. “You want some money for food, beggar boy?”

“I mean… if you’re offering,” Wiro replied honestly, scratching his head again.

“Then crawl to me like a dog and bark three times! Do that, and your master here will toss you some coins!”

Their laughter nearly shook the rafters of the tavern.

Wiro glanced around. His eyes settled on a bunch of ripe bananas hanging over a table stacked with curry and fish. He grinned—first softly, then louder.

He stepped over and picked a bunch. “I’ll buy these bananas,” he told the owner, handing over his last few coins.

As he headed for the door, he broke off four bananas at once. Behind him, the four goons were still cackling.

Without turning his head, Wiro’s right hand moved faster than the eye could follow. Four bananas soared backward—straight into the open mouths of the four men.

Their laughter turned to choking gasps!

The bananas lodged deep in their throats—so deep, they couldn’t breathe, let alone laugh! Faces turned red, eyes bulged.

Outside, Wiro strolled casually down the road, munching on another banana, smiling to himself. Behind him, furious footsteps thundered.

“Kill that bastard!” one of them roared.

“How dare he mess with us?! Chop him up!” screamed the tall one.

Wiro kept walking, leisurely tossing banana peels behind him. But those peels weren’t just peels.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Wiro released a gust of inner energy—his technique: Wind Walls, Layer Upon Layer.

A storm of invisible force rose behind him, slamming into his pursuers like a steel barricade! No matter how hard they ran, the four men couldn’t close the distance. Wiro was just within reach—but always a breath away.

They shouted and cursed, clawing at the air, struggling to grab him. But they looked more like four crazed monkeys throwing a tantrum.

Meanwhile, Wiro strolled ahead, still munching his banana.

“DAMN IT!” shouted the tall one—Bergola Wungu, the leader. He was the strongest of the bunch.

In a rage, he pulled a dagger from his waist and hurled it at Wiro’s back.

But just as the blade was about to strike, it twisted in the air and shot back at him!

He barely dove aside in time—his own blade nearly slashing his throat.

Drenched in cold sweat, Bergola Wungu and his lackeys finally stopped chasing. Faces pale, gasping for breath, they stood still.

Never in their lives had they encountered such a bizarre, humiliating scene.

Burning with shame, Bergola growled, “That bastard’s no man—he’s either a demon disguised as a human… or a human possessed by a demon!”