Chapter 63

Creeeak.

The man entered the inn around early afternoon.

The old wooden door creaked, but no one inside turned to look. Not even the owner or the waiter, who should have been rushing to greet a customer.

“So? So what happened?”

“Quit keeping us in suspense and tell us already!”

At the crowd’s eager urging, the old man tapped his empty bowl.

Only after the owner filled it to overflowing with bamboo-leaf wine did the old man—the storyteller—go on.

“A fierce battle broke out. Blood Wolf Sword Lee Cheonbaek brought no fewer than thirty thousand men. Compared to that, the Jin Family of Taiyuan had only three hundred elites.”

“Thirty thousand!”

“My word, thirty thousand!”

“Does that make any sense? Mount Heng Sword Sect isn’t one of the Nine Sects and One Gang…”

The storyteller stopped mid-sip and spat the wine back out.

“Fuck this. This booze tastes like shit. I’m leaving. You can hear the rest from the guy who brought up the Nine Sects and One Gang.”

“Now, hold on. Why are you acting like this?”

“Who just said that?”

The mood turned ugly, and a young man was shoved back, half-stumbling.

Only then did the storyteller set his half-raised ass back down. His stomach had turned, and his nerve had thickened to match.

Tap, tap.

Everyone frowned as the storyteller tapped his empty bowl. Now they had to give him money, not more wine. They were in the middle of an unspoken standoff when—

Ting.

“Huh?”

The storyteller’s narrowed eyes flew open. A gleaming silver tael had come flying from somewhere.

“Well. Whoever that is, they’re a big spender.”

“Who was it?”

“Why are you looking at me? You want my wife to beat me to death?”

That was when someone spoke from behind the crowd.

“I’d like to hear more.”

The voice was quiet but resonant. It belonged to the man who had entered the inn earlier. His face was hidden under a bamboo hat pulled low, and the cloak wrapped around him was caked with dust.

A martial artist.

No one needed to say it aloud. Everyone in the inn had reached the same conclusion.

The storyteller looked from the silver to the man and swallowed.

“Thank you, Great Hero. Is there something in particular you’d like to hear…?”

In his experience, there was only a hair’s breadth between a ruffian and a martial artist. He was an old man who had lived his share of years, but he had no desire to get stabbed to death in a place like this.

Fortunately, the man in the bamboo hat was the latter.

“Keep it simple. Just the facts.”

Judging by the voice, he was clearly a young bastard—but a young bastard who had learned martial arts. The storyteller couldn’t treat him carelessly. He rubbed his palms together.

“I’ll tell you everything I know, sir. Every last bit.”

“That battle you mentioned. How many days ago was it?”

“Five days ago.”

“Who won?”

“The Jin Family of Taiyuan wiped the floor with them. I heard the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi played a major role.”

“Then Mount Heng Sword Sect… What did you just say?”

“Excuse me?”

“Shanxi, what?”

“Ah, you mean the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi?”

“That’s right. I’ve never heard that alias before.”

“If you’re from out of town, that would make sense. Young Master Jin only rose to prominence recently.”

“You mean Young Master Jin Wikyung, the Lesser Family Head?”

“What? Not at all. The Lesser Family Head is impressive too, but the one who played the biggest role this time was Young Master Jin.”

“So that Young Master Jin… Wait. Is the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi somehow related to Third Young Master Jin Taekyung?”

“They’re the same person.”

The man, who had been silent until then, snapped his fingers. A second silver tael landed perfectly in the storyteller’s bowl.

“I believe I asked you to keep it simple and stick to the facts.”

“I’ll stake my balls on it.”

The man sighed at the storyteller’s resolute answer.

“Let’s say that’s true. What happened to Mount Heng Sword Sect?”

“They’re on the verge of closing their gates. Second Young Master Lee Seogeun was already dead, and their Sect Leader, Blood Wolf Sword Lee Cheonbaek, fell in battle. Two days later, even the heir—the First Young Master—was killed fighting a band of mounted bandits.”

“Mounted bandits?”

“These gutsy bastards heard the Blood Wolf Sword was dead and stormed Mount Heng Sword Sect. Word is they’d been circling nearby from the start, waiting for their chance.”

“What a dog’s mess.”

“A horse’s mess, more like. They’re mounted bandits, aren’t they?”

The inn went dead quiet. Everyone expected the big-spending martial artist to drive a third silver tael into the storyteller’s forehead.

Instead, the man rose from his seat without a word.

“I heard you.”

Even after the man left, the storyteller’s tale went on. They drank without pause, and the snacks never ran out.

Everyone joined in, talking about the struggle for supremacy among martial artists. Victory and defeat. The young hero who had risen like a morning star.

“It won’t be long before the Jin Family of Taiyuan steps beyond Shanxi and stands tall in the Central Plains. The Lesser Family Head, who excels in both civil and martial arts, the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi, who rose to prominence this time, and… and who else was it?”

“Heaven Shaking Sword?”

“Ah, right. Second Young Master Jin Mukyung!”

“That young man is incredible too. They say he’s a martial arts genius who appears once in a hundred years, if that.”

“But where is he now? What’s he doing?”

“Dunno. At this hour, he’s probably asleep.”

Even as the drinking continued inside the inn, the man rode in silence. His mouth was firmly shut, but his ears were wide open.

“Did you hear?”

“The Sleeping Dragon again? My ears are bleeding. Give it a rest.”

“Yeah, but this is grade-one intel. I heard it from a gate guard of the Jin Family of Taiyuan.”

“What’s the fuss?”

“You know the Heavenly Axe?”

“The Heavenly Axe of the Eighteen Strongholds of Green Forest? That mountain bandit who’s supposed to be a Peak master?”

“That’s the one. Word is the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi took him out too!”

“Isn’t that just a rumor? Why would someone like the Heavenly Axe come all the way to Shanxi to play bandit?”

“How would I know? What’s even more surprising is that Yama Whip was there too.”

“Yama Whip too?!”

“They say he’s disguised as a coachman at Honghwaru. If you ever have reason to go there, watch yourself.”

Two names came up more than any others in the endless chatter.

The Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi.

And Jin Taekyung.

The closer the man came to his destination, the more the rumors swelled like a snowball, growing larger and larger.

The most handsome man of all time. A heaven-bestowed martial physique. A chivalrous hero who cannot stand injustice.

The man in the bamboo hat spurred his horse. Hearing so much as the Shan in Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi made his stomach churn and his head ache, as if he had taken an internal injury.

He finally reached his destination the next morning.

It’s been a while.

The place he had returned to after several years was unchanged.

If there was any difference worth mentioning—

“Stop right there! I am the hegemon of Shanxi, Captain of the Gatekeepers of the Great Jin Family of Taiyuan, and the right-hand man of the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi—Hyuk Mujin! State your identity and purpose, and—”

—it was that a guy who looked like hell was serving as Captain of the Gatekeepers.

The man in the bamboo hat, Jin Mukyung, sighed.

“Shut up and open the gate.”

Whoooosh.

The water flowed. Calm, and unimpeded.

The internal energy that had emerged from my dantian raced through hundreds of acupoints before finally returning to its rightful place.

Ding!

System

• You have successfully completed Qi Circulation.

• The realm of the Jin Family’s Cultivation Technique has risen to the Eighth Stage.

I opened my eyes as I listened to the System notification.

The Eighth Stage.

It was clearly good news, but I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

The notification I had been waiting for was a different one.

Could’ve at least bumped my internal energy.

Today marked two months since I had been able to use the System. Circulating my qi had become a habit, but my internal energy was still going nowhere.

At this rate, it’ll take another ten years.

The greatest strength of the Jin Family’s Cultivation Technique I had learned was its stability. Unlike ordinary internal cultivation techniques, I could even run it while moving.

The problem was…

The accumulation speed is fucking terrible.

For a martial artist, a lack of internal energy was a fatal weakness.

I could handle First Rate and Second Rate opponents easily enough, but if I ran into a Peak master as an enemy, even two lives wouldn’t be enough.

I had felt that clearly after tasting the Head Elder’s martial might firsthand.

That old man was incredible.

Even after five days, I still couldn’t forget it.

No. Forget five days.

Even fifty years from now, I would never forget that sight.

The Sword Energy and Sword Force that had swept across the battlefield. And that absurd number—Level 95.

How long could I have lasted against him one-on-one?

Even if I had wrung out every last ounce of strength, I doubted I could have held on for a minute.

But unexpected variables had overturned the result, and I had been able to drive my spear through his chest.

And the System hadn’t forgotten my reward.

“Open Status Window.”

Ding!

System

Status Window

Lv. 50 Jin Taekyung

Class: First Rate Martial Artist
Fame: 1,180 (+150)
Titles: 4 (Title effects active)

• Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi — All Stats +10, Fame +100
• Scion of a Prestigious Family — All Stats +5, Fame +50
• Novice Trainee — Training Speed +10%
• Gambler — Combat-related Stats +10% in one-on-one combat

Strength: 135 (+15)
Stamina: 142 (+15)
Agility: 130 (+15)
Intelligence: 25 (+15)
Charm: 25 (+15)
Internal Energy: 15 years

Remaining Points: 100

• Distribute your Remaining Points.

“Ohhh.”

I had checked that Status Window dozens of times over the past few days, but I never got tired of it. It felt like carbonation popping in my veins.

Fighting the Head Elder was worth it.

It had been a gamble with my life on the line, so the reward was stacked.

I had jumped thirteen levels in one stroke, my Fame had entered the triple digits, and my Titles had changed.

“Check Titles.”

Ding!

System

Status Window

Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi

Grade: Peak
Effect: All Stats +10, Fame +100
Description: Your fame has now spread throughout Shanxi. But the world is vast and masters are many. Never become complacent!

I wasn’t a nationwide name yet, but in Shanxi—my local district—I apparently had some real clout…

So that’s why it’s called the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi?

Goyang’s Honey Fist. Incheon’s Sea of Blood. That kind of thing.

Either way, it was good for me. I had a solid new Title, and Family Shame, the tag that had clung to me until recently, was gone. It felt as good as having an aching tooth pulled.

I’ve gotten stronger again.

I suddenly remembered the conversation I’d had with Team Leader Choi before returning to Murim. I’d told him that the next time he saw me, he would have to revise my contract.

He had probably taken it as a bluff, but I had made it a reality.

I’ll get as strong as I can, then go back.

I would return with every scrap of power I could obtain.

Internal energy, martial arts, stats. Whatever it was, all of it.

On my next Logout, I’d be a B-rank Hunter—no, an A-rank Hunter—and return home in glory…

“Huh?”

No, wait.

I felt like I was forgetting something incredibly important.

What is it?

I stopped everything I was doing and tried to pin down that sense of déjà vu.

That was when—

“Is this the place?”

“Yessir. No mistake.”

Two voices murmured outside the door. The instant I recognized one of them as Hyuk Mujin’s—

Boom!

The door was ripped off its hinges with a thunderous crash.

I take basic common sense seriously.

Tissues go in the trash. Cigarettes belong in the smoking area. Porn comes from Japan.

And when you enter someone else’s room, you knock.

I especially believe that anyone who barges into a room a man uses alone, without knocking, deserves life in prison.

By that standard, the bastard in front of me got the death penalty.

Smashing the door earned him life. Speaking down to me on our first meeting was an aggravating offense.

I answered him politely.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

The bastard’s eyes went round. His face was black with grime, as if he had spent twenty years working in the Aoji Coal Mine.¹

Young. Shabbily dressed. The story practically wrote itself.

Wandering Martial Artist #1.

An extra who had come running after hearing of the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi’s fame.

I turned to Hyuk Mujin, who was wearing a similar expression.

“What’s with this guy?”

Hyuk Mujin froze solid. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

“You don’t know him?”

“How would I know, idiot? You have to introduce people.”

Grumbling, I raised my Qi Sense. A blue circle stretched toward the two of them.

System

Lv. ??? Jin Mukyung

Jin Mukyung. Guess he’s pretty high-level.

“Huh? Jin Mukyung?”

I looked at the Level window once.

Then at his face.

I repeated that three or four times before approaching him with a trembling heart.

“Uh, hold on a second.”

“…”

Rub, rub.

My clean sleeve turned black. Beneath the grime, a handsome face emerged. I thought it looked familiar, then realized it was the same face I saw every morning when I washed up.

Carbon copies.

Heh.

I gave him an awkward smile. Wandering Martial Artist #1 glared back at me with icy eyes.

“Long time no see, hyung.”