Chapter 26

“So…”

Gong Yacheong gave me a strange look.

“So you’re that Young Master Jin Taekyung.”

The moment had finally come. I let go of Hyuk Mujin’s collar—he’d passed out for the third time—and smiled awkwardly.

“Yes. I’m Jin Taekyung.”

The reconnaissance squad members preparing camp pricked up their ears. We were on our way back to the main family.

We had ridden for more than five hours without a break since leaving the cabin where the fight had taken place. Gong Yacheong had kept his mouth shut the entire way. Only now did he speak.

If it weren’t for that bastard.

I glared at Hyuk Mujin, who was being dragged along by one of the quicker-witted squad members. I should have hit him one more time before letting go.

As I was still regretting that, Gong Yacheong spoke.

“I’ve heard plenty about you, Young Master.”

“…I see.”

“Even a three-year-old knows who you are. You must be the main family’s biggest celebrity.”

At this point, it would have been faster to find someone who didn’t know me.

“You’re lazy by nature and arrogant beyond belief. You’re lost in wine and women and don’t even practice martial arts… But I see the rumors of the martial world aren’t worth believing after all. The martial prowess you displayed today was truly remarkable.”

“…”

If there were something like a Martial World Daily that collected every rumor in the martial world, I’d subscribe immediately. It was surprisingly credible.

More importantly…

Did Gong Yacheong really not know?

Whatever bullshit the Mount Heng Sword Sect had pulled, I was at the center of this entire mess.

There was no denying that countless people had died along the way.

It wouldn’t have been strange if Gong Yacheong and Socheon held a grudge against me. That was why I had hidden my name.

If he really doesn’t know, that’s a relief.

We were being chased by a ruthless Peak master. I had no interest in stirring up trouble we didn’t need.

“How long until we reach the main family?”

Gong Yacheong’s question snapped me back to my senses.

“We should arrive in two or three days.”

“Of all times, it had to snow now…”

Gong Yacheong lamented. He glared resentfully at the sky as it continued dumping snow.

“Young Master, we should prepare for the worst.”

“The worst?”

The blizzard had us stuck, but it had our enemies stuck too. There was even a chance they had given up the chase.

Gong Yacheong shook his head.

“Don’t underestimate wandering martial artists. The purity of their internal energy and the quality of the martial arts they’ve learned may be lacking, but their greatest weapon lies elsewhere.”

I gave him the answer.

“Experience.”

“Exactly. The experience gained from fighting a hundred battles. What’s chasing us isn’t martial artists. It’s wandering martial artists. The same, yet entirely different creatures.”

The same, yet different. I thought I understood what he meant.

In short, they were well-trained hunting dogs. And the man holding their leash was Jopil, One Question, One Kill.

“The reason Jopil is truly frightening isn’t simply that he’s a Peak master. It’s his persistence. His viciousness. He has never once failed a commission or allowed a target to escape.”

I answered with a sigh.

“It’ll be the same this time, then.”

“Probably.”

Gong Yacheong stared into the darkness beyond, as though something might leap out and swallow us whole.

“We’re being chased by a man like that.”

Whoosh. The snow-laden wind melted into the darkness.

We finished making camp. We had dug several small dugouts and blocked their entrances with branches, fallen leaves, and whatever else we could find. It was crude, but this was no time to be choosy.

“Have a restful night.”

Gong Yacheong had already vanished, carrying the sleeping siblings in his arms. I kept thinking of the exhausted smile at the corner of his mouth.

He really is an adult.

If he had wanted to live, he could have run away long ago. Gong Yacheong was a trained master, a seasoned man of the martial world.

But he hadn’t.

He had risked his life fighting for two children who didn’t share a drop of his blood.

That was why Gong Yacheong was a good adult.

Could I have done the same?

I shook off the question as soon as it arose. This was a game. It wasn’t good to think too deeply about an illusion that would soon disappear.

That was right. An illusion that would soon disappear.

Open Quest Window.

Ding.

System

Logout

You must now make your way through this harsh Murim.

Become stronger. Become famous.

For the day that will come someday…

Grade: Main Quest

Limit: Jin Taekyung

Task: Reach the First Rate realm — Incomplete
         Reach Lv. 30 — 24/30
         Reach Fame 500 — 250/500

Reward: Logout

The EXP and Fame I had earned from dealing with the enemies, plus the Quest reward.

I was starting to see the summit of this treacherous mountain.

I opened my Status Window and distributed all my remaining points. Vitality flowed back into my exhausted body.

I’m almost there.

I only had to get past this hurdle. If I could avoid that bastard Jopil, One Question, One Kill—the man whose face I didn’t even know—I could finally put an end to this miserable journey.

But there was another problem.

Let’s say I can somehow fill up my Level and Fame. How am I supposed to raise this damn realm?

Back when I first started clearing the tutorial Quests, I had raised my realm from Third Rate to Second Rate by distributing my stats. After that, radio silence.

What the hell am I missing?

I was an absurd existence in Murim. I could learn martial arts and raise my stats faster than anyone else. I had grown stronger with the System’s help in all kinds of ways.

That was why I could literally wipe the floor with ordinary First Rate martial artists despite being a dime-a-dozen Second Rate.

And yet I wasn’t First Rate!

I should’ve asked Jin Wikyung.

At first, I thought I just needed to keep raising my stats or internal energy. Lately, though, I had started to feel I was barking up the wrong tree.

Level? Stats? Internal energy?

What was it? The final piece needed to complete the puzzle?

The answer came quickly.

If I don’t know, I’ll have to find out.

Just like I had until now. If I kept walking, I would find an exit.

I sat cross-legged and regulated my breathing. The internal energy coiled in my dantian answered my call.

“We lost them.”

Jopil muttered as his black, viper-like eyes swept the surroundings.

They had lost the fugitives. But traces remained. Those faint traces would become new signposts.

“About twenty people. They left this place roughly two shichen ago.”¹

Jopil nodded at his subordinate’s report. The man’s martial arts were only Third Rate, but his tracking skills were Peak. Jopil had countless hunting dogs like him under his command.

Two shichen.

The gap had already narrowed to two shichen. How long would it take to catch the fugitives?

Half a day at most.

They should have run with everything they had. Without looking back. They should have thrown off every burden, abandoned any stragglers, and kept running for their lives.

If they had done that, the distance would not have narrowed. But they had let their guard down. They must have thought the blizzard had held their pursuers back.

That difference had created the current situation.

But I’m a little different.

The previous night had been long. Even among his pursuit-hardened subordinates, some had fallen behind.

In the mountains during a blizzard, falling behind was the same as dying.

The only difference from dying on a battlefield was that it took a little longer.

That was why Jopil had given the order.

Kill them.

They said that when a tiger died, it left its hide, and when a person died, they left their name.

But Jopil thought differently. What name could a Third Rate nobody who had spent his whole life drifting through back alleys possibly leave behind?

He should at least leave a hide.

Leaving twenty stripped corpses behind, they continued onward. After the long night ended, they found the fugitives’ traces around daybreak.

We’ll be meeting soon, friend.

The corners of Jopil’s mouth lifted. This mysterious master was the first in a long while to pique his interest.

His long-stiff heart began to pound.

I shuddered.

“Ugh. What the hell?”

A sudden chill ran through me. I raised my arm and found it covered in goose bumps.

If this were a scene in a novel, the protagonist would have muttered, Something feels off, and gone on his way.

But I was different. I acted on firm suspicion.

“Hey. Get over here, quick.”

I couldn’t see him, but I could feel it. Someone trudging behind me faltered.

“W-why?”

“I’m counting to three. One, two. Three.”

The instant I hit three, Hyuk Mujin rushed over and pressed himself against my side.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

“What?”

“You were the one. Tell me the truth and I’ll let it slide.”

“What are you talking about? It wasn’t me!”

I silently stared at his face, swollen like a steamed bun.

“You were cursing me behind my back just now, weren’t you?”

“Gasp.”

“You were cursing me, right?”

“I-I was…”

I knew it was this bastard. When I raised my hand, Hyuk Mujin squeezed his eyes shut.

After getting beaten about three times, he had lost all his fighting spirit. On top of that, he had learned a valuable life lesson:

Dodging only meant getting hit more.

“Fine. Since you told the truth, I’ll let it go this once.”

Hyuk Mujin jerked his head up.

“Really?”

I gave him a warm smile.

“Of course. But don’t even think about deceiving me from now on. I’ll be watching you with mind-reading.”

Hyuk Mujin stared at me with demon-filled eyes, then bolted back to his place. If I’d had enough time, I would have crushed his head with a mace.

Swallowing my regret, I kept walking.

“What’s mind-reading?”

The chatter tickled my ears. It belonged to Soyul, Socheon’s little sister. Was she five years old?

She was small enough to fit right inside my backpack.

“Is it martial arts?”

“Something like that.”

“Is mind-reading strong?”

“Really strong.”

“Wow! Soyul wants to learn mind-reading, too!”

“But you have to be one-eyed.”

“Gasp!”

I glanced over and saw Soyul staring at me, startled. Her eyes had gone huge. Ridiculously cute.

Hayeon used to be like that, too.

These days she was a gross little sister, but when she was little she had been a baby angel. She had even gotten offers to be a child model…

Carrying her on my back felt exactly like carrying Hayeon when she was that age.

“Want me to teach you?”

“…Soyul doesn’t like martial arts. I want to become a proper young lady.”

“That’s fine, too.”

“Mm-hmm. Mister, do you like martial arts?”

“Me?”

“My brother says you’re really strong. Dad said only people who work hard can become strong.”

“Your dad said that?”

“Yes. My dad is really strong, too. Because…”

She chattered excitedly for a while, then stuck out her lower lip.

“Soyul wants to see Dad. But I guess Dad doesn’t want to see us. Oppa says he went out to play with Mom, leaving me and Oppa behind.”

My heart dropped with a thud.

An old memory filled my vision. In a funeral hall of black and white, little Hayeon had searched for our father, and I had no choice but to tell her an obvious lie.

Just as Socheon had done for Soyul.

It was the only thing I could say.

“…I see.”

What else could I say?

I looked at Socheon, following along in the middle of the formation. He was panting hard, drenched in sweat.

He must be exhausted.

His willpower was far beyond his years. The saying that pain made people mature was fucked up, but it was true.

Socheon hadn’t fallen behind even once, and the other reconnaissance squad members marveled at him for it.

But the real problem is somewhere else.

Gong Yacheong.

His face was deathly pale; he still hadn’t shaken off his injuries. If not for the remarkable effects of the fasting pills I had given him, and the qi he had circulated last night, he might have collapsed long ago.

At this rate, we’ll be caught.

Even after the sun rose, the accumulated snow wouldn’t easily melt. I was out front, forcing a path through it, but everyone was exhausted, and our pace had slowed.

On top of that, we had an injured man and children.

Should I run away by myself?

The thought came to me in an instant.

It was a game. So what?

Gong Yacheong, those two kids, the whole reconnaissance squad—every last one of them was created AI. Just NPCs.

But me?

I was alive. Among all of them, I was the only one who was real. The only one with a real body.

But…

Fuck. It’s a simple problem… Why am I like this?

An inexplicable aversion surged through me. It was strong enough to startle me—strong enough to throw me off.

Why?

I didn’t know.

I didn’t find the answer for hours after that, and then night came.