Yuk-gyeong, who had fled his hometown village.
What awaited Yuk-gyeong was not a land of happiness brimming with dreams and hopes.
What awaited him instead was the start of a grueling journey riddled with blisters, sweat, and sticky grime.
Yuk-gyeong had been walking for days now, clutching a few coins from his father's money pouch that he'd swiped from home and some lumps of rice from the pot hugged to his chest.
Without a compass, he had no sense of direction. Without a map, he had no idea of the path ahead. All he could do was follow the faint official road aimlessly.
All Yuk-gyeong had to go on was the tale of slightly larger villages he'd eventually reach by sticking to that road.
According to the village braggart So-ssi, following the official road would lead to a few villages—ones bigger and busier than his hometown, where you could buy just about anything.
You had to take half of what the braggart So-ssi said with a grain of salt, but the stories about bigger villages at least rang true. The adults never really disputed them, after all.
Yuk-gyeong walked. He walked and walked some more.
.
.
.
"Where the hell are these immortals supposed to be?"
In the Moon Kingdom, the existence of cultivators was no secret.
Mortals knew there were aspiring immortals called cultivators out there, and that they were extraordinary beings.
They didn't know much about them, sure—but they knew that much.
Yuk-gyeong's plan hinged on asking around until he stumbled upon a major sect.
But mortals proved more clueless about cultivators than he'd expected.
"Huh? Major sects? We got sects 'round here—want me to shorten the list?"
"Immortals? Heard there's folks tryin' to become 'em, but wasn't it the peak of that mountain over there?"
"Oh, major immortal gates? You'd have to head to the capital for that kinda info, right?"
What era did they think this was?
At a civilization level roughly like the Warring States period, communication networks were laughably primitive. Information barely spread beyond folktales passed by word of mouth.
The existence of cultivators wasn't a secret, but that didn't mean everyone knew about them.
Lots of folks were clueless—and even more had wildly off-base ideas.
What really frustrated Yuk-gyeong wasn't the ignorant ones, but those with their bizarre misconceptions. They'd demand payment for "info" as a matter of course, then spout utter nonsense once paid. He'd even trek to mountains supposedly home to immortals, only to find some local hill.
Days wasted like that.
"Damn humans. If you don't know, just say so. But no, they wanna make a buck and act like they know it all, spouting whatever crap comes to mind."
It was sheer luck that Yuk-gyeong finally ran into people who actually knew something solid.
They were a band of traveling peddlers.
A team of two young peddlers and one grizzled old one, banding together for merchant runs.
True to form, they'd heard all sorts of tales from their travels and had broad knowledge.
One of the young peddlers, who seemed particularly keen on immortals and cultivators, shared quite a bit with Yuk-gyeong.
"Looking for a major immortal gate? The Moon Kingdom barely has any. But if you're dead set on it, head to the Ten Lakes. Plenty of mountains there, and that spiritual energy stuff? It's thick in the air, they say. That's where the big sects cluster."
"The Ten Lakes?"
"Yeah, Ten Lakes. Rugged terrain in the Moon Kingdom's south, hugging a big lake—that's why they call it that."
"So the major sects gather there?"
"You bet. Folks've even spotted immortals there, zipping through the skies. They open their gates now and then to recruit young men and women."
"Ohh, so entry's possible."
"Sure is. Dreamers head to the Ten Lakes to test their luck. You interested?"
Interested? Hell yeah—with my Single Spiritual Root.
Yuk-gyeong nodded, and the peddler burst into hearty laughter.
"Kid, you think immortals take just anyone as disciples? Their standards are sky-high. Dream on."
Listen to this guy. Who do you think I am? Legendary Single Spiritual Root holder here. What else is worth seeing if not this?
Yuk-gyeong held his tongue, figuring this mortal knew nothing.
Single Spiritual Root? They'd probably never even heard of spiritual roots. To mortals, it might as well sound like a botched pronunciation of "lotus root."
With no real expectations, Yuk-gyeong chatted along just to pass the time.
"What kinda standards?"
"Obviously, striking good looks—like a celestial beauty. Immortals all have that otherworldly grace, right? Someone as plain as you? No dice."
Common sense: you think they'd pick disciples based on looks? What does appearance have to do with cultivation?
And what's wrong with my looks? I'm plenty handsome.
Yuk-gyeong always figured his face was an asset, never a liability.
Good looks solve everything.
Internally, he whistled a tune.
Ugly folks' jealousy just tires out the handsome ones. But hey, first time feeling this good about it.
The grizzled old peddler scolded Yuk-gyeong sternly.
"Not too late to turn back home. At least there you can earn a living. Out here? Starvation or a beating's more likely. Drop that immortal dream and head back."
Of course, Yuk-gyeong had zero intention of abandoning his dream, even on the old man's advice.
How could he give up after acquiring a Single Spiritual Root? Besides, home was off-limits.
The cultivator who'd spotted Hye-chun's Single Spiritual Root must've turned the place upside down.
Hye-chun's spiritual root was gone. Her man was gone.
Too many suspicions.
Escape routes were cut off. He had to become a cultivator—no choice. Otherwise, he'd labor away, save for a business, and settle somewhere.
For now, becoming a cultivator was the goal.
Single Spiritual Root holder,
the man destined to become an immortal.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Aaaagh! Please, just spare me!"
"Hand over everything you've got!"
The martial world's righteous wanderer, Little Sword Fairy Yeon Mu-hui, caught the commotion echoing from not far off.
Leaping over with lightness skill, the scene came into clear view.
The bandits, armed with swords, were seasoned pros at robbing merchants. This unlucky traveler had crossed their path and was now under threat.
Of course, there were cases where apparent victims colluded with bandits to rob would-be rescuers—but Yeon Mu-hui, with years as a righteous wanderer under her belt, had the eye to spot such tricks.
Besides, she had the skill to crush any bandit schemes, so she feared nothing of the sort.
'Even so, stronger than cultivators who soar through the skies and command winds and rain?'
Did martial artists not know of cultivators' existence?
They were heaven-defying beings, beyond human limits.
Even reaching the first stage—Qi Condensation Realm, or Response Qi Realm—would outmatch any martial master hailed as an expert.
Yet Yeon Mu-hui felt no inferiority.
They were heaven-defying. They shunned worldly ties, distancing themselves from mortal affairs—like natural disasters, not people.
Meanwhile, martial world's righteous wanderers struggled to uphold justice and righteousness as people.
People lived among people—not holed up on mountaintops or lost in clouds, cultivating in isolation.
That was Yeon Mu-hui's conviction.
That's why she wandered the rivers and lakes.
'I can't forgive those who commit evil.'
As Yeon Mu-hui charged into the robbery unfolding before her, all eyes turned her way.
Five bandits decked out in proper martial robes, and their frumpy victim fleeing from them.
Yeon Mu-hui bellowed at the scene of villainy.
"Halt, all of you! Highway robbery in the Great Moon Kingdom under the Moon King's rule? I won't forgive you!"
"Wench! Who the hell are you?!"
"I am the Water Lily Sword Master, Little Sword Fairy Yeon Mu-hui! When the King of Hell asks who sent you, give them this name!"
The bandits scattered in panic at her declaration.
The name Little Sword Fairy was renowned across the martial world—even illiterate bandits had heard it from someone.
Sure enough, one who'd heard of her turned tail and yelled,
"Water Lily Sword Master, Little Sword Fairy? Top expert! Run!"
"Damn it! We're five strong!"
"Five my ass! She's the one who smashed a whole bandit stronghold!"
At the mention of her crushing a bandit lair, they bolted every which way.
One even dropped his sword in his desperate flight.
"Are you alright?"
"Thank you! Thank you so much!"
Her rescuee turned out to be a strikingly handsome man.
Among the men Yeon Mu-hui had seen in her fame-filled martial journeys, he ranked top-tier.
She'd laid eyes on the famed pretty boy of Black Dragon Castle, the White Rice Swordmaster Nam Myeong-ho, and the West's renowned beauty, Jade-Faced Scholar Un Yong-pil—but this man outshone them.
Though personal taste played a part, of course.
Yeon Mu-hui favored slender, refined features—and this man fit her ideal perfectly. His boyish charm stirred her protective instincts.
"Ahem, be more careful from now on."
"Here, I don't have much, but..."
As the man rummaged in his bosom, he didn't notice his collar loosening slightly.
Yeon Mu-hui's gaze locked onto the sculpted abs peeking through. His labor-honed muscles, finely etched without excess, held their own allure.
'Nice body. Doesn't seem like he knows how to fight, though.'
Yeon Mu-hui's cheeks flushed red.
Wandering the martial world built up desires inevitably. Yeon Mu-hui had suppressed hers all this time—but today, encountering her type, they erupted uncontrollably.
Why was this happening? The surge felt impossible to rein in.
Yeah, I'm a beauty myself. Think this guy can resist a beauty's temptation?
Yeon Mu-hui was a knockout. Her martial arts-honed figure was balanced and toned. Curves where they should be, dips where they counted—her especially pronounced hips snatched men's stares across the jianghu.
She seized the man's wrist.
"Come here a sec? I think I've found a way you can repay me."