WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Asakusa
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◈ A Wandering Warrior's Survival Guide ◈
Chapter 50: A Suspicious Wanderer Who Doesn't Hide His Strength (1)
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As they entered the foothills of the Taihang Mountains, the time when they would have to act separately drew near.
Cheon Hwi finally voiced a question that had been bothering him.
“Can a demonic art coexist with my inner cultivation method?”
Han So-gyeom snickered.
“What inner cultivation method have you learned?”
“The Well-Returning Moving Art.”
“What sort of inner cultivation method is that?”
“It builds inner energy while moving.”
“So it is a method for building inner power and enlarging the vessel, not one for directing it?”
“That’s right?”
“Then it should not conflict with another inner cultivation method. It does not seem likely that you will suffer qi deviation. It is not as though you have learned the pure martial arts and inner cultivation methods of the orthodox sects.”
“So you are saying it does not matter if I mix a bit of demonic art into my rootless mongrel patchwork martial arts?”
“You have a talent for making people sound like trash.”
“Why are you not denying it?”
“Ahem. Hmph!”
Over the next several days, Han So-gyeom watched Cheon Hwi’s swordsmanship.
Cheon Hwi’s new sword art, which he had named the Meteor Sword Forms.
Strangely enough, the sword forms had no fixed moves, making them impossible to demonstrate without an opponent.
Before a crackling campfire, sparks flying between them, Han So-gyeom sat across from Cheon Hwi and asked with an incredulous laugh.
“So you created a sword art, but you cannot do anything without an opponent?”
“I can flail around in roughly similar ways, but it is different. It has the shape of swordsmanship, but the moves are not complete.”
“Should you even call it a sword art, then?”
“I decided to. It is different from the fast sword I learned before.”
If the Three Powers Swift Sword Forms were the sword art he had used while still unable to shed his third-rate bearing, the incomplete Meteor Sword Forms could be called a martial art worthy of a second-rate martial artist.
“It truly suits the sword art of a mutt raised by eating anything and everything. It is impressive that it can run around without getting indigestion.”
“Pardon?”
“It was a joke.”
Han So-gyeom picked up one of the long branches he had been using as a fire poker, as though inviting Cheon Hwi to show him.
“Show me.”
“...You intend to stop me with a branch?”
“Yes.”
“Will that work? I may not look it, but I am second-rate now.”
“Yes. A second-rate martial artist who thinks he has become someone important and fears nothing in the Martial World. Hearing you say something so fitting for a second-rate martial artist, you cannot possibly be anything else.”
The two had grown quite close on the road to the Taihang Mountains.
They had spent much time together on the road, in villages, and in cities.
Han So-gyeom visibly infused inner power into the long wooden rod. The branch trembled faintly, and a wispy white vapor rose from it. At the same time, it felt harder than most steel.
It was the sword qi of Han So-gyeom, who had reached the middle stage of first-rate.
“This is called sword qi. At early first-rate, you can only manage it once or twice while prepared to risk death. Once you reach the middle stage, you can infuse a weapon outside your body with true qi whenever you wish.”
Even limiting the sword qi so that the branch would not break was an impressive level of control.
At this point, Cheon Hwi had no choice but to attack.
He had not told Han So-gyeom, but with the clan head’s help, the Meteor Chasing the Moon Movement Technique had reached the third star. He had already moved beyond the entry stage.
“I am coming. Do not be surprised.”
“Why is every answer you give such a precious example of second-rate behavior?”
Han So-gyeom answered jokingly, but when Cheon Hwi took his opening stance and charged in, he could not help but be surprised.
‘Oh?’
Clang!
The branch and iron sword collided, yet a clear metallic ring echoed through the air.
The two exchanged roughly five or six moves.
Cheon Hwi’s sword did not touch Han So-gyeom.
Cheon Hwi had attacked in earnest against an opponent holding a branch, yet he had not even brushed Han So-gyeom’s clothes. He was quite flustered.
But the opposite was true.
Han So-gyeom had called for a stop because, if they continued exchanging moves, the branch would break and Cheon Hwi’s blade would reach him.
“Mm. Let us stop here.”
Han So-gyeom had only one impression after seeing it. He casually tossed the branch into the campfire and offered a brief assessment.
“To have grown so quickly in such a short time.”
Han So-gyeom recognized it immediately. Compared to when Cheon Hwi had destroyed the Black Path mountain stronghold alongside him, Cheon Hwi had grown incomparably stronger.
It was an impossible rate of growth.
‘Can someone grow this much after spending only about six hours in the Martial Classics Pavilion?’
But the growth Cheon Hwi displayed before his eyes was real. How could he deny it?
“Truly remarkable. It seems that if you are rootless enough, you eventually grow roots.”
“Is that an insult or a compliment?”
“It is a tremendous compliment and an insult.”
“What?”
“With talent like yours for wielding that sword art, how nice it would have been if you had learned one proper sword art. That is what I mean. But what can be done? It is already too late for you. Your sword path and martial arts have already become one in that direction. Even if you learned another martial art, it would feel like clothes that did not fit your body.”
Han So-gyeom thought that perhaps the reason Cheon Hwi had endured a gak against the first-rate Gwak Do-mun was because Cheon Hwi’s swordsmanship was not bound by fixed moves.
“I will partially take back what I said about your lack of fundamentals. Adding unnecessary basics to your practical swordsmanship would only make it heavier. Take your stance again. I will point out the weaknesses from when you came at me just now.”
Han So-gyeom found the practical swordsmanship of the unorthodox, which grew by swallowing up anything it encountered, quite interesting.
He also looked forward to seeing how that swordsmanship would change when they met again.
* * *
A few days later, the two arrived in Baekseokjin, a city in Pyeongryeong County closest to their destination, the Dawn Sun Gate.
“Now, you must go alone from here. Go and play to your heart’s content.”
Han So-gyeom spoke as though he were tossing Cheon Hwi aside, then took back the horse.
“That high peak ahead is Dawn Sun Peak in the Taihang Mountains. The Dawn Sun Gate must be somewhere up there.”
“So this is my new playground, where I can smash everything to pieces if things go wrong.”
Han So-gyeom took Cheon Hwi’s words as a joke and answered in kind.
“You truly have the natural qualities needed to become a demonic practitioner.”
But Cheon Hwi’s words had been completely sincere.
“If you need to find me, tell a member of the Hao Sect at an inn in a large city. It will not be difficult. You will be suitably compensated, whether in money, spiritual medicine, or martial arts manuals.”
“Thank you. Take care.”
“I wish you good fortune in your martial pursuits.”
On the road into Baekseokjin, Cheon Hwi adjusted his bamboo hat and recalled the increasingly faint memories of his modern life.
There had been many famous old Hong Kong films about undercover police officers. Precious scenes and striking mise-en-scène flashed through his mind, but he remembered that they always ended with the protagonist dying or being betrayed.
‘They never ended well.’
But they had not possessed martial arts or Death Regression.
To Cheon Hwi, Baekseokjin looked like a playground. A playground where he could return to the perspective of a wanderer, enjoy himself, and see just how much his realm had improved.
Cheon Hwi’s plan was simple.
‘Find those Dawn Sun Gate bastards, and if anything seems suspicious, destroy them.’
He had no intention of being roundabout.
Valuing human life only worked on fellow humans.
Besides, did he not have reliable backing that operated along the boundary of the sacred principle of noninterference between officialdom and the Martial World? An organization like a cloud spread across the gray area between officials and the Martial World. He had connections with the Guarding Martial Authority.
As Han So-gyeom had explained, Baekseokjin was larger than expected.
The city had once flourished around silver and gold mines, drawing people in. As described, its web of broad roads and several grand buildings revealed traces of its former glory.
Its former glory.
Now that the silver and gold mines had been abandoned, it had become a city whose population was steadily draining away.
It was a declining city where farmers and people panning for gold gathered to trade.
Cheon Hwi knew well that maggots gathered on the scraps of flesh still clinging to a city’s bones.
As he walked farther inside, the city began to feel lively.
There were merchants with goods spread across stalls, along with people selling noodles and porridge.
Cheon Hwi headed for a shabby inn in the city center.
When he pushed open the door, the rancid smell of old grease hit him.
It was an ordinary inn where people ate and left. Cheon Hwi sat at a corner table and ordered a bottle of rice wine and a plate of meat dumplings.
The Hong Kong film style of unfolding events that had come to mind when he entered the city was not to Cheon Hwi’s taste.
He had no intention of hiding his identity, sucking up to his superiors, making himself look useful, blending in, betraying comrades, and wasting his time. Nor did he intend to endure such a tedious process.
‘There is no need to make things complicated. A swift blade cuts through tangled hemp.’
When he bit into a hot dumpling, the juices that filled his mouth were quite excellent.
That was when the atmosphere in the inn changed.
Crash!
Six or seven martial artists with vicious expressions stormed into the inn, dramatically driving a saber with a gleaming sharp edge into the floor.
“Get out! All of you!”
They were the Iron Bear Sect, a band of local Black Path tyrants who had controlled Baekseokjin for many years.
Crash!
The apparent leader kicked over the nearest table.
Soup splashed and porcelain bowls shattered, turning the inn into chaos in an instant.
“Did you not hear me tell you to get out?!”
Terrified by the sudden disaster, the people fled from the inn in a rush.
Cheon Hwi sensed that only two inn attendants, the innkeeper, and a cook in the kitchen remained.
It was a level of presence detection that had once been impossible for him. He could recognize people without seeing them.
The innkeeper rushed out, face pale, and knelt.
“W-We paid all of last month’s protection money five days ago!”
“That was protection money! You still have to pay the territory fee!”
“T-Territory fee?”
The man seized the innkeeper by the hair and threw him to the floor.
“Ten taels of silver! Hand it over right now, or I will burn down this inn and hang your whole family by their necks!”
“W-We pay protection money to the Dawn Sun Gate! A-Are you sure this is all right?!”
“Yes! That is protection money, you bastards! We are only collecting territory fees!”
Typical Black Path cruelty.
Listening quietly, Cheon Hwi gauged the scale of this city from their demand for ten taels of silver. If they could only extort ten taels from an inn under the name of protection money or territory fees, there would be no first-rate Black Path martial artists around here. There was simply no money in it.
Chaos filled the inn, but Cheon Hwi did not move from his corner table.
He merely picked up his second dumpling with his chopsticks, using the noisy commotion as an accompaniment.
Back when he had lived as a third-rate wanderer, Cheon Hwi would have lowered his gaze beneath the table without even breathing. Or he would have been swept away with the people fleeing outside.
He had not wanted to get caught up in the pointless provocations of the Black Path and die a worthless death.
But he was different now.
He was pleased with how much he had changed.
The thugs before him looked like adorable puppies yapping for food. Could any chatter be lighter and fresher than a spring breeze?
Crunch, crunch.
As the innkeeper and the thug stared each other down, the sound of Cheon Hwi chewing filled the silence.
It irritated the Iron Bear Sect martial artists.
Everyone was trembling in fear, but a wanderer in old martial garb was calmly swallowing dumplings in the corner. To them, it looked as though he were dismissing them as insects.
“Hey. You with the hat.”
Thud, thud.
A hot-blooded Iron Bear Sect underling with killing intent in his eyes strode toward Cheon Hwi’s table.
“Did you not hear us tell you to get out?”
Cheon Hwi did not even raise his head. He merely touched the remaining cup of wine.
The underling irritably drew the saber at his waist and slammed it onto Cheon Hwi’s table with a bang!
It would have been less pathetic if the table had split. Instead, the blade failed to bite into the wooden tabletop and bounced away.
Cheon Hwi could not help but marvel at the pitiful saber technique. Was this wooden table some divine artifact imbued with rebounding force qi?
“Hmm...”
Cheon Hwi slurped down some wine to rinse his mouth, then smiled.
His gaze still had not turned toward the man.
“What are you smiling about, you bastard...?”
“How could I not be surprised? To think the table I am sitting at was a divine artifact imbued with rebounding force qi, capable of repelling a blade. Right?”
At the blatant mockery that the blade could not even pierce a wooden table, the man’s eyes turned fierce.
But that was all.
Pressed down by Cheon Hwi’s presence, he could not utter another threat.
Half of a third-rate fight was presence.
Cheon Hwi slightly lifted the brim of his bamboo hat and asked,
“Confident?”
“...W-What?”
“I asked if you are confident enough to touch my dumplings.”
From afar, one of the Iron Bear Sect men shook his head and warned his subordinate to retreat.
Taking that as an excuse, the man sheathed his saber and stepped back, breathing heavily.
Cheon Hwi calmly picked up another dumpling with his chopsticks and placed it in his mouth. The innkeeper had no choice but to hand over the money.
Having achieved their purpose, the men left in a crowd.
The innkeeper sighed and tried to set the overturned table upright. Cheon Hwi came over and helped.
Cheon Hwi lightly turned the table back into place as the innkeeper struggled with it. The innkeeper bowed deeply with a gloomy expression.
“T-Thank you, honored guest.”
“Those men from earlier. Who are they? The Dawn Sun Gate?”
“N-No... They were the ones collecting protection money here before the Dawn Sun Gate appeared.”
Then they must be at odds with the Dawn Sun Gate. Cheon Hwi thought that was not bad.
“Location.”
“...Pardon?”
“Tell me their location and name.”
“They are called the Iron Bear Sect... Why do you ask...?”
“I see. The Iron Bear Sect.”
Cheon Hwi rose, took his sword, paid for the dumplings and wine, and headed out.
“A-Are you going to attack them? You absolutely cannot go alone!”
“Do they have any first-rate martial artists?”
“N-Not that I know of...”
Then there was no problem.
The innkeeper clung to Cheon Hwi’s trouser leg.
“You cannot! I do not know what you intend to do, but it is dangerous!”
Cheon Hwi casually shook off the innkeeper, pushed them aside, and left the inn.
“It is fine. I have always wanted to try something like this.”
He had seen many villages and cities like this since childhood.
That was why his father had always said that martial artists were no better than beasts even Confucius would give up on, despite being a martial artist himself.
Now, Cheon Hwi possessed the martial skill to refuse to pass by injustice.
He did not know where the Dawn Sun Gate men were, but he intended to make them come to him.
It was an infiltration method that took a very different kind of footwork.
If Han So-gyeom heard of it, he would slap his forehead and say, “Do you not know what infiltration is? At least hide your strength.”
But Cheon Hwi had only one answer.
“Come here! Is no one there?!”
Shing!
He drew his sword and kicked in the Iron Bear Sect’s front gate.
Crash!
The shabby wooden gate shattered and fell beneath a kick imbued with inner qi.
“Who goes there?!”
“I came to take down your signboard, you bastards.”
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