WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Haruto

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Martial Alliance Rulebook Archives ◈

Chapter 10: Moving (2)

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I did not hide my discomfort as I asked again.

“What kind of paper requires me to write on it in blood? Am I being entered into King Yama’s Book of Life and Death or something?”

Most Koreans would naturally feel reluctant to write their own name in red.

The White-Robed Miracle Physician was not Korean, of course, but he seemed to understand my unease.

“The other Records Officers all had similar reactions when they first heard about it. Though you’re the first to be put off by it with such a specific example as the Book of Life and Death. If it bothers you that much, you don’t have to use it. Still, I strongly recommend carrying one.”

What sort of item was it for him to insist so strongly that I use it?

Jaksu’s words lingered in my mind. There was no way writing my name on it would place some restriction on me that would kill me if I failed to remain loyal to the Martial Alliance, right?

“It’s a kind of Calamity-Averting Talisman. It’ll save you from one approaching disaster.”

“Uh, will it take a stabbing in my place too?”

The instincts I had acquired while living as a martial artist supplied the answer immediately. If one talisman could help me avoid having my head cut off, I could write my name in blood a hundred times over.

“Depending on the circumstances!”

“Oh!”

“It can’t stop the blade of an ordinary unorthodox thug, though.”

“Oh...”

Byeolui grinned at my openly disappointed tone.

“But it can turn an Anomaly’s attention away from you once!”

Byeolui explained what the talisman did.

Considering the name Anomaly Records Office, its duties sounded rather literary.

The basic rank assigned to martial artists belonging to the Anomaly Records Office was Records Officer, which added to that impression.

When someone heard “Records Officer,” they would think the job consisted solely of meeting people, asking questions, and recording their responses.

Yet such tasks could not possibly have been the entirety of the Anomaly Records Office’s work.

The Martial Alliance was not wealthy enough to waste its funds by dispatching carefully selected martial artists for work that one or two reasonably fit scholars could handle.

Only elite martial artists who passed the Anomaly Records Office’s demanding standards became Records Officers...

“Wait a moment.”

I stopped Byeolui’s explanation.

“Then what am I?”

I could still vividly remember him scolding me, saying, “How dare a Second-rate martial artist sit at the same table?” Yet I had been selected as a Records Officer.

Byeolui convinced me with one short, solemn phrase.

“Special recruitment.”

It was the first time in my life I had benefited from preferential hiring. It would have been nice if I had been the beneficiary of one back on Earth instead.

“I’m joking. The level of your martial arts is important, but adaptability toward Anomalies is also a major criterion. In that regard, you’re exceptional.”

At the end of his sentence, Byeolui gave me a doubtful look. It was the look of someone wondering where I might pick up and eat another Anomaly.

“I really don’t have that kind of hobby.”

“I didn’t say anything, did I? Hm, back to the main point!”

The missions entrusted to those carefully selected martial artists involved investigating Anomalies. Anomalies, which had strayed beyond the human path, often inflicted enormous mental shock upon Records Officers simply by being witnessed.

An Anomaly’s attack, striking through the cracks left when one’s cultivation was shaken, was perfectly suited to make a person die screaming.

“They’re quite skilled at cutting short human lives. This talisman is meant to deflect one such attack.”

“Deflect it?”

Byeolui shrugged as he explained. Even he did not know the principle in detail, but it was a masterpiece created through the combined efforts of the Daoists of the Wudang Sect and the Maoshan Sect, using every unorthodox and orthodox art at their disposal.

“Those who become demonic practitioners develop a somewhat distorted way of seeing the world. Much like how those who suffer qi deviation experience hallucinations to some degree.”

“They seemed awfully precise with their techniques for people who aren’t in their right minds.”

“Even that distorted perception can be endlessly sharp. A tiger may be less intelligent than a human, but isn’t it a master hunter?”

Apparently pleased with the comparison to a tiger, the Weird Physician continued. Tigers took human lives as easily as taking something from their own pockets, but people could still drive them into traps.

“That talisman is such a trap. To an Anomaly, wherever that talisman is placed will feel like a human’s vital point.”

It required enough internal energy to invoke a Divine Ability, but it meant I could guide the place an Anomaly would target with its first move.

“Usually, people put it in the sleeve of a long robe to make the Anomaly miss its attack.”

I recalled my fight with the shadow. If I could have lured its attack to a position I wanted, I might not have needed to draw on my True Origin Qi...

‘No, that’s an exaggeration.’

The shadow would certainly have regained its balance before I could launch a counterattack while its stance was broken.

Still, once I had drawn on my True Origin Qi, it would have helped me seize a definite advantage. Instead of a dangerous head-on brawl, I could have ended its life with a single strike.

How great an advantage was it for a martial artist to guide even one attack to a predictable location?

“It truly is remarkable.”

“Yes. That’s why these are issued only once a quarter, or something like that. If something happens to the Daoist sects, the supply gets cut off again.”

“What?”

“Once you use that talisman, you won’t receive another for three months. Be careful not to lose it.”

At that moment, I realized something.

A secret organization did not necessarily have a large budget.

If anything, being treated as a secret from the outside made it harder to receive budget allocations...

“You can use the third floor of the Ceremonial Affairs Department quarters for lodging.”

“Uh, is that all right?”

“Administratively, those are the Formation Research Department quarters. In practice, we use most of them.”

I wondered why the Formation Research Department’s martial artists would turn down free lodgings, then eventually found the answer.

“Wow, belonging to a powerful clan really is nice.”

The Martial Alliance’s Formation Research Department hired most of its members from a single clan.

The Zhuge Clan.

Would a member of one of the Five Great Clans, famous in both civil and military matters and often serving at court, use the Martial Alliance’s shabby communal quarters?

With a grin, Byeolui placed a brush and a book in my hands. Though it was a brush, it was a Fine Brush, making it as easy to carry as a ballpoint pen in the modern world.

“There. That concludes your issue of standard Records Officer equipment.”

A talisman, a book, and a Fine Brush.

It was far too simple. I hurriedly opened the book, hoping it contained something like a code of conduct for new Records Officers.

Was this not the Anomaly Records Office, home of the Rulebooks?

Since there was even a Rulebook for Martial Alliance Leader ceremonial protocol, there had to be a clearly organized guide for handing over work to a new Records Officer...

“It’s blank?”

Not a single character was written on its pages. The paper was white and smooth, clearly bound from high-quality sheets.

“What is this?”

“That? It’s a book we give you to write your will.”

When Byeolui saw my scorching glare, he burst into hearty laughter and said he was joking. What kind of joke was that?

Rather than calling that man the Miracle Physician, I should probably call him the Weird Physician.

“It’s simply a tool for writing down what you learn while dispatched in the field. Make recording things a habit from now on.”

“Isn’t there a separate Rulebook for handing over work? I have no idea what I’m supposed to do here going forward.”

“Are you an Anomaly? How can you already be looking for work the moment you arrive?”

The Weird Physician made another strange joke and laughed to himself.

“You don’t need to worry yet. Surely they won’t throw someone who just got out of a sickbed straight into the field.”

It was a fairly sensible measure. Perhaps the harshness of the martial world and the bizarre nature of the Anomaly, which had left such a vivid impression in such a short time, had muddled my thoughts.

“Don’t eat lunch tomorrow. Come to the Records Office. There’ll be a Newcomer Welcome Banquet so you can make an impression on the Director and the other Records Officers. After that, you’ll receive training from a senior and build your abilities as a Records Officer by going out on field assignments together.”

I nodded at the Weird Physician’s words. He added one more remark as though it were nothing.

He said he would not be there tomorrow because he had something to do, but four people, including the Director, would welcome me, so it would be a lively enough celebration.

* * *

That night, I dreamed.

“Hm?”

An old man dressed in a red robe tilted his head. Wherever his gaze fell, the ground split open on its own and the wind rose.

The old man, who had sliced open the earth to inspect its innards, stroked his beard.

“What scoundrel has ruined my villa like this?”

It was strange. His villa was a clever creature that knew how to gauge strength.

It did not even nibble at prey it could not consume.

“How did such a cautious creature come to suffer such a terrible fate?”

Soul-Severing Mountain Villa was close to giving birth. The Ghost Valley Master had eagerly awaited the baby it would bring forth.

But both mother and child had died, and the Ghost Valley Master could not restrain his grief.

After mourning the pitiful children, he regretted the scattered soul and corporeal spirit.

“Has the soul returned to heaven, and has the corporeal spirit sunk into the earth? What a great loss this is. Ah...”

After wailing for a long while, the Ghost Valley Master murmured quietly.

“I must find the culprit. The one who devoured my young lambs.”

His gaze blazed like ghostfire.

* * *

I jolted awake at the ominous warning, then realized it had only been a dream and promptly fell asleep again.

The next day came. The promised Newcomer Welcome Banquet.

Five people had gathered.

Footnotes:

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