A-Qing grew up in modern society and found herself a Murim vagabond. This meant she was uniquely positioned to compare two very different civilizations.
Life as a single production-line worker back home was a fucked-up cycle of shitty work and shitty people, of pushing through sleep deprivation and slowly killing your health. But at least you could live. If you were alone, you could eat what you wanted, more or less. And more importantly, there was no immediate threat to your life.
But in the Murim, this brutal, this ancient, primitive China. Here, if you were weak and broke, you just died.
And so, for the past year, A-Qing's life had been a grand, continuous struggle for mere survival.
At least Koreans don't pull a knife on you just for making eye contact. In Murim, if you so much as brush shoulders, it usually ended in a life-or-death battle where one of you had to die. They called it a "Life-and-Death Duel/deathmatch."
It's practically impossible for a modern person with a soft mind to survive in such barbarism. Yet, A-Qing was still breathing.
Of course, there were several reasons for this miracle.
First, A-Qing's body was ridiculously strong. When she was doing her character creation, she'd gone all-in on Strength and Stamina, following a guide to get through the brutal early game. Since she'd been dumped into that character's body, her strength was greater than most men, and her iron-like stamina meant she never got tired.
And most importantly, her Physique selection paid off.
A-Qing's Physique "Blood Poison Body" nullified all poisons in the story. Even food poisoning counted as a poison, apparently, because she could eat anything and never get sick. Literally anything.
That's how A-Qing survived.
She couldn't even make eye contact with the third-rate unorthodox faction thugs, so she fought tooth and nail with beggars over discarded food. She'd get beaten senseless by farmers for stealing potatoes or radishes.
She'd endured a year like that.
Now, she was entering her second year in the Central Plains. For A-Qing, it was a pretty special anniversary.
After a year, maybe I can call myself a proper martial artist?
Like, I can finally walk around with my walk with head held up high, telling people I know my way around central plains. Time to try living like a real martial artist, like a real human.
Like just now, she'd even turned in the head of a wanted villain to the magistrate for a bounty.
She still vividly remembered crying and puking her guts out the first time she stabbed someone, just a year ago. Now? She was hacking off arms and heads like it was nothing.
Yeah, I'm a bona fide Murim gangster now. For sure.
A-Qing's majestic chest swelled with pride.
This was the self-confidence of a rookie in the Murim world, barely a year past her debut. It was pretty common for martial artists, not just A-Qing, to feel a surge of confidence around the one-year mark.
Of course, A-Qing wasn't exactly sure if she was in her second year.
It wasn't like she was some castaway on a desert island or a kidnapped victim counting the days by carving tally marks on a wall.
But she'd arrived in the warm spring, endured a winter, and now the weather was finally warming up again. So, yeah, it was roughly her one-year anniversary.
All the humiliating memories flashed through her mind.
When she first woke up naked and thrown into a completely unfamiliar world, A-Qing could do almost nothing.
After all, did money grow on trees? Or like in a game, barge into people's houses, smash their pots, open their chests, and brazenly steal right in front of the owners?
Of course, if there were no owners, it was possible, and there were even professionals who specialized in that.
But breaking into empty houses required a lot more skill than she thought. If she'd known, she would've become a burglar instead of a production-line worker.
Fortunately, there were also parts that were like a game. If you killed someone, you could get money.
The people of the Central Plains carried money pouches, called jeonnang (전낭). If the owner was gone, the person who picked it up became the new owner. So, if you killed someone, you could rightfully inherit their jeonnang (전낭).
Even so, A-Qing was always broke.
That's because she wasn't a murderer who killed people solely for the purpose of robbing their money.
She only killed bad guys. If she chopped off a head and brought it to the magistrate, she'd occasionally get a bounty, but the amount wasn't much.
When you're out of a home, everything costs money – eating, sleeping.
Exaggerating a bit, even breathing costs money.
So, of course, her lifestyle was always pathetic.
But just for today, she'd break free from that pathetic existence. It was a day to celebrate proudly.
It was her first anniversary, after all!
"Hey, inn boy!"
At A-Qing's call, the waiter scurried over. He had a mole beside his nose, big as a fly.
You could tell this wasn't just any inn. A large mole on a waiter's face was considered auspicious.
The bigger and clearer the mole, the higher his wages would soar. You could tell the inn's prestige just by looking at its waiters' moles.
"What's good here?"
"There's no dish we can't make, but today's recommendation is chicken steamed with rare herbs, then fried with black bean sauce and oil. The fighting cocks came in today, so the flavor is quite extraordinary."
The waiter expertly recommended a dish. Having started at fourteen and nearing his 30th year as a seasoned waiter, he could instantly size up a customer.
She wore battle clothes patched in several places, so she was a poor female swordswoman of Murim. Her eyes were hollow and shadowed, but her expression wasn't tired.
Therefore, she must be a customer celebrating something good enough to forget her fatigue, and given her humble attire, she'd prefer something plentiful and greasy over a small portion.
The whole "fighting cocks came in" thing was pure bullshit. In truth, the waiter didn't really know much about it either.
But it was just a chicken dish, not duck.
A little embellishment would make the customer feel better.
A-Qing, a mere chick in her second year of Murim life, had no idea of the kind waiter's true intentions. She was simply delighted.
Chicken!
Fried chicken!
The soul food of Koreans!
"Do you also need alcohol?"
"Yes! A bottle of strong liquor!"
"Then how about Bi Hongju? It's from the Bi family's Distillery behind us, only in its first generation, but the liquor is said to be quite extraordinarily potent. Even the elders of the Beggar's Sect praise this wine."
A distillery only in its first generation couldn't honestly be said to make good wine.
And the bit about the Beggar's Sect elders was pure fraud.
Those beggars just guzzle anything; how would they know good wine?
In the end, it was all just talk.
But that talk made the customer feel good.
Waiters were highly skilled professionals, artists of hospitality.
"One Jaehyung Tangsuyuk [1]! One Bi hongju!"
The waiter chanted the order and moved away.
Chanting the order wasn't to inform the kitchen. Nor was it to confirm the order with the customer.
It was to let the other customers in the inn know what this person had ordered.
The more expensive the order, the louder the voice, and sometimes, if a truly big spender arrived, they'd even shout it out onto the main street in front of the inn.
However, A-Qing's order wasn't grand enough for the waiter to shout. It was simply because the waiter could read A-Qing's mind.
The expectations of a poor customer were obvious.
Unaware of his consideration, A-Qing was beaming.
The other customers in the inn chuckled, having instantly figured out the situation.
Only A-Qing was clueless.
A-Qing. A Murim veteran of, like, two whole years.
◇─◇────◆─◈─◆────◇─◇
There was a song often sung by legendary heroes (which was just another word for bandits) of a previous era.
Its opening line was extraordinarily profound:
A hero needs not study.
However, the age of mindless swordplay passed, and then came the age of martial arts, and martial arts themselves became a form of study.
The higher the martial art, the more its mysteries aligned with the principles of the world.
One couldn't become a peerless master without delving into the Dao and philosophy.
Yet, the zenith of the era before last, the Greatest Under Heaven, loved this song dearly.
His epithet was the Celestial Martial Emperor.
A terrifying epithet.
How could even the Greatest Under Heaven dare to declare himself "Emperor" in his epithet?
It was tantamount to challenging the Jade Emperor.
And so, they did fight. The Jade Emperor never shied from a challenge; with a single word of "treason," all the military forces under Heaven would gather.
The result?
The Celestial Martial Emperor was still the Celestial Martial Emperor. Had he been defeated, his epithet would have become something like "Rebellious small fry" or "Traitor Against Heaven."
It was famous how the Celestial Martial Emperor crushed three legions of elite imperial guards, seized the Emperor by the collar, climbed to the top of the imperial palace, and sang his favorite song with altered lyrics:
Heroes need not mind what others think.
What does it matter when All Under Heavens is beneath me?
Even if my status is lowly,
Who dares block my path?
Thus, the Celestial Martial Emperor succeeded in redefining the relationship between the government and Murim, establishing a new law: Gwanmu Bulgachim (관무불가침), meaning the government and Murim should ignore each other. And so, the Celestial Martial Emperor became the godfather of all martial artists.
Later, the Celestial Martial Emperor truly achieved the legend of ascending to immortality, leaving a legacy as an eternal idol to all of Murim.
His musical achievement—composing the most beloved song of martial artists—was just a bonus.
He was truly a person who defined his era!
However, there was a side effect. Some idiots started to interpret the song lyric, " Heroes need not mind what others think," in reverse.
If a hero need not mind what others think,
then doesn't that mean those bastards who care what others think are not heroes, right?
It was enough to make the ascended Celestial Martial Emperor pound his chest in frustration from the heavens.
And here.
Jo Gak-sun, the Green River Swift Wind Hero, was a man who considered himself a hero.
Jo Gak-sun was having a meal with his sworn brothers. Together, Jo Gak-sun and his three sworn brothers called themselves the Four Heroes of Green River, and they prided themselves on their reputation.
Then, he suddenly spotted a familiar face.
Ahn Seong-il, the Ugly Demon of Zhengyou.
Contrary to his epithet, "Ugly Demon of Zhengyou," his appearance was quite normal.
However, "Ugly Demon of Zhengyou" referred not to his face, but because his actions were extremely vile and dirty.
His main business was human trafficking, and besides that, he was a total son of a bitch who committed all sorts of evil deeds like theft, robbery, murder, rape, arson, and fraud.
A hero cuts down evil without hesitation.
Of course, if the evil is weaker than him!
Ahn Seong-il's cultivation was known to be at the early Peak Realm, while Jo Gak-sun was still only at the late First-Rate Realm. But this was exactly why he had sworn brothers. Why else would four of them stick together like this?
One versus four.
Each of the Four Heroes of Green River was weaker than Ahn Seong-il individually, but together, they were strong. That was their strength!
Indeed, I cannot stand by and watch evil!
Jo Gaksan finally made up his mind after calculating the odds from various angles.
Heroes need not mind what others think.
The act of " mind what others think " included the direct and indirect harm that could be caused by creating a disturbance in a crowded inn during dinner.
Such minor collateral damage was insignificant compared to the great cause of eradicating evil, carried out under the banner of justice.
The Four Heroes of Green River exchanged silent glances. Jo Gak-sun tapped the table three times.
The Four Heroes of Green River lunged forward simultaneously.
[1] (crispy, sweet and sour chicken)