WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Asakusa

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◈ A Wandering Warrior's Survival Guide ◈

Chapter 9: What It Means to Live as a Wanderer (1)

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“Tch. To think you’d receive a Class B token.”

“That’s how it turned out.”

“That’s how it turned out?”

Yi Mu-gwang let out a hollow laugh.

“Kid. Do you think that badge is something you can just brush off by saying, ‘That’s how it turned out’?”

“Well... is it really that serious? It looked like they divided them up based on vague impressions, so it didn’t seem very professional.”

Cheon Hwi had only thought it would give him a slightly wider range of missions than a Class C token.

“That isn’t the end of it.”

“...?”

“Class C token holders risk their lives all day escorting carts along mountain roads for a hundred copper coins, maybe two hundred if they’re lucky. If they get half a tael of silver for a dangerous job, they’ll be happy enough to throw a drinking party. But B-rank missions pay at least half a tael a day. Half a tael is easily five hundred copper coins.”

Cheon Hwi looked down at his Eul Badge.

Half a tael of silver.

It was money his father had rarely been able to touch while alive. Hadn’t Cheon Hwi received a whole tael when he saved someone’s life?

Money he could barely lay hands on only after walking one stretch with a sword at his waist, standing night watch with his eyes wide open all night, and taking the lead and risking his life if bandits appeared.

“But a Class B token? Half a tael a day.”

“A day?”

“Yes. Half a tael every day. If the job lasts longer, you get paid every day. If hazard pay is added, earning a full tael isn’t difficult. Sometimes there’s even a bonus for success.”

Yi Mu-gwang nodded toward the courtyard of the Wandering Warrior Hall.

At one side, a wanderer who had just been rejected was being dragged away by several men after grabbing a clerk by the collar and demanding answers.

“Still, if you take a B-rank mission and a fight breaks out, there’s a high chance you’ll die.”

Yi Mu-gwang spoke, and Cheon Hwi blinked.

“You mean I’m that weak right now?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s as far as I can go.”

His tone was far too calm.

Death frightened him. What frightened him more was ending up in a situation where he had to repeat death helplessly, like in Avici Hell. A literal living hell.

As long as it was not that, Cheon Hwi was prepared to accept death however many times it took and use it for his own growth.

He was quite the madman.

Yi Mu-gwang could see that too. Cheon Hwi’s tone was different from someone who had given up on life, or a hardened martial artist who had grown numb to death.

It was even further from the confidence of a brat who had received an Eul Badge and thought he had become something special.

The martial world was full of people who treated their own lives lightly. Men who drew their swords while drunk, men who marched into certain death intoxicated by their own bravado, men who wanted their deaths to look impressive to others.

But Cheon Hwi spoke of his own life as if it belonged to someone else. That was difficult. As if he could coldly weigh it, then calmly let it go.

Yi Mu-gwang still did not know whether that was courage, talent, or proof that something inside him was badly broken.

But one thing was certain.

It was not an attitude a fifteen-year-old should have.

“Crazy bastard.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine. Still, I don’t intend to shove you into certain death on your first day. You need to keep your head on your shoulders to earn the next payment. I’ll choose the mission.”

He walked toward the job board.

Notices covered the wall in long rows.

Each listed the mission details, payment, and required rank.

Yi Mu-gwang crossed his arms and read through them one by one.

- Track the bandits of Black Pine Forest.

Payment: Three taels of silver. B-rank or above.

Yi Mu-gwang passed it immediately.

- Nighttime port escort.

Payment: One tael of silver per day. B-rank or below, C-rank or above. Night mission. Return before sunrise.

‘Night work at a port with such generous pay? There are only two possibilities. Either the goods are dirty, or the client is.’

He passed that one too.

- Search for a missing wanderer.

Payment: Two taels of silver upon success. B-rank or below.

Yi Mu-gwang snorted.

Then he stared at the next notice for quite a while.

- Cheongmok Pharmacy herb transport.

Transport six chests of medicinal herbs to Baeksu Station outside Changchun. Day route. Half a day’s journey. Class B token or above may participate. Payment: Half a tael of silver per day.

Yi Mu-gwang read the notice twice.

‘A pharmacy. Day route. Half a day.’

They clearly wanted men with some skill, which was why they required Class B tokens or above. Judging from the mission’s difficulty, the payment was neither too high nor too low. It was just enough that neither side would lose out.

‘Do they want people who no longer look like greenhorns to avoid trouble?’

Yi Mu-gwang knew from experience that such jobs were less likely to involve a fight.

“We’ll take this one.”

“Transporting herbs?”

“Yes. Cheongmok Pharmacy is a known name even in Changchun. They’re not the sort to openly do dirty work. More importantly, if we travel only during the day on a route that takes half a day, there’s less chance of fighting bandits or anyone else.”

Cheon Hwi silently nodded.

He thought an escort mission, where he could walk at the cart’s pace, would not be bad for practicing the mnemonic formula of the Well-Returning Moving Art.

Yi Mu-gwang headed toward the accounts office of the Wandering Warrior Hall.

The clerk was turning the ledger pages with ink-stained fingers. They lifted their eyes once at Yi Mu-gwang’s badge, then again at Cheon Hwi’s Class B token.

“We’d like to take the Cheongmok Pharmacy escort job.”

“The Cheongmok Pharmacy escort... Ah. Yes, you may. Shall I register both your numbers?”

Yi Mu-gwang nodded.

The clerk paused as he wrote down Cheon Hwi’s number.

After writing seventy-three, they placed a strangely small dot beside it.

It was tiny enough to look like an accidental splash of ink at a glance. But they paused for a beat before deliberately making it.

Cheon Hwi did not see it, but Yi Mu-gwang did.

“What’s that dot?”

The clerk slowly raised their head.

“What do you mean?”

Yi Mu-gwang pointed precisely at the dot beside Cheon Hwi’s number, one that was not beside his own.

“Ah, this? It marks a newly issued Class B token. It makes things easier for the client to check.”

It sounded natural enough. Yet Yi Mu-gwang watched the clerk’s eyes for a moment. The clerk was smiling, but something felt off.

“A new Class B token. I didn’t know mine was old.”

“We have marks only we can recognize. Clients have been particular about such things lately.”

The clerk closed the ledger and continued.

“You depart before the Hour of the Horse. Go to the front courtyard of Cheongmok Pharmacy.”

Cheon Hwi bowed without any suspicion.

“Let’s go.”

“...All right.”

As he turned away, Yi Mu-gwang glanced back at the ledger once more.

The black dot beside Cheon Hwi’s name.

For some reason, that tiny ink dot lingered in his memory. His instincts felt uneasy.

Still, he could not turn down a half-tael daytime escort mission merely because he had a bad feeling. In the martial world, anyone who feared every little thing would starve to death.

* * *

Around noon, with the sun high overhead, about twelve wanderers had gathered in Cheongmok Pharmacy’s broad front courtyard.

Someone who appeared to be the pharmacy’s escort overseer busily inspected the guards and formation.

At the front stood Heo Gyeom, the Iron Mountain Saber, a renowned hero even among B-rank warriors and at the peak of the Second Rate. He stood firmly with his arms folded.

Behind him, four experienced wanderers formed up. Three greenhorns who had only just received Class B tokens, including Cheon Hwi, lingered nearby with the C-rank wanderers assigned to menial work.

Yi Mu-gwang’s eyes swept over the carts and the entire group like a hawk’s.

‘They split them into two.’

The notice had said they wanted only B-rank men, yet C-rank wanderers were also present. There was probably another job gathering C-rank men separately.

The escort party looked like one group, but Yi Mu-gwang’s sharp eye was not fooled. Once they began, the formation would likely divide in two.

One group would be a decoy.

‘A half-day journey. B-rank guards... and they’ve split the carts into two? What are they going this far for?’

The second cart, where the newcomers including Cheon Hwi and the C-rank wanderers had gathered, was different.

Yi Mu-gwang’s brow furrowed sharply. Just as he was about to grab Cheon Hwi by the back of the neck, someone said to be from Cheongmok Pharmacy raised their voice.

“We will divide the groups!”

Everyone turned to look.

“The main group will take the broad official road. The separate group will take the narrow path through the reed field and join us at Baeksu Bridge. This is to scatter the attention of any bandit gangs that may be watching. We will divide you by wandering badge number. Even numbers will join the main group. Odd numbers will join the separate group!”

The reasoning sounded plausible.

The very fact that they had hired guards meant the pharmacy had sensed some kind of danger. Sending out a separate group to divide that danger was also a possible choice.

“Wouldn’t the chances of completing the mission be higher if all the guards traveled together?”

Someone raised a hand and voiced the question, but the pharmacy representative shook their head.

“Do you think I don’t know that? Orders have already come down from above. Please comply.”

Yi Mu-gwang had an even number, while Cheon Hwi’s seventy-three was odd.

Anyone with objections could leave now. But the names of those who withdrew after agreeing to the mission would remain in the ledger.

Besides, once a wanderer had registered for a job, it was a rule to follow most of the client’s orders.

Thud!

As Yi Mu-gwang went to find someone in Cheon Hwi’s group willing to trade places with him, the huge Heo Gyeom stepped in front of him.

The enormous Iron Mountain Saber strapped to his back radiated pressure.

He seemed to be merely greeting Yi Mu-gwang with an offered handshake. Yet Yi Mu-gwang was unintentionally held up, and the separate group departed first.

Cheon Hwi was already following a creaking cart into the entrance of the narrow reed-field path.

Yi Mu-gwang sighed inwardly, telling himself that nothing would happen.

Cheon Hwi gave him a very slight nod, as if to say, “I’ll be fine.”

Yi Mu-gwang roughly released the hilt of his saber and swallowed a curse.

“Fine, my ass.”

.

.

.

The separate group’s cart entered a narrow, steep gorge between dense reeds that towered over a man’s height.

Sheer walls of reddish clay closed them in from every side, narrowing the sky to the size of a palm.

Cheon Hwi gripped the hilt of his straight sword and quieted his breathing.

One step, one breath. Two steps, settle the breath.

With every step, he recited the mnemonic formula of the Well-Returning Moving Art and gathered his energy into his dantian.

As he followed that rhythm and maintained his focus, something began to feel wrong.

At this time of year, insects should have been buzzing everywhere. Yet the reeds were unusually quiet.

Not even the birds cried.

Even the wind brushing through the reeds was as silent as death.

A chilling sensation crawled up his spine. His instincts told him someone was holding their breath above the gorge and watching them.

Then a grim realization flashed through Cheon Hwi’s mind.

He had been separated from Yi Mu-gwang for over an hour now, and he was deep inside Hwangto Gorge.

In other words, even if his head was cut off and he died here, he would not wake up in the safety of Changchun City.

If a battle broke out, he would have to preserve his own life within this death trap.

At the very moment the sound of the small bell hanging from the ox’s neck scattered through the air like a final scream, immense killing intent poured down from above the gorge like rain.

A signal arrow shot into the sky with a whistle.

Fweee!

From the reed field came the sound of something rising and rushing toward them all at once.

Cheon Hwi tightened his grip on the sword hilt and pushed the blade free with his thumb.

This time, how many deaths would he have to repeat before he escaped this gorge?

‘Come, death.’

That was right.

Cheon Hwi was smiling with death before his eyes.

What mattered was an unbroken spirit.

Cheon Hwi had that.

Footnotes:

The final line echoes a popular Korean meme phrase: “What matters is an unbroken spirit.”

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