Chapter 14 – I Think I Might Actually Be the Protagonist
A shocked exclamation burst from the Skybreaker Sword.
“Why, why? No way...”
[No way?]
“Could it be that I actually possess a talent that appears only once every hundred years?”
Anyone who’s read a bit of wuxia would know. When people admire someone’s talent, they often express it as “a talent that appears once every few years.” This kind of praise appears frequently.
It was the same in Return of the Murim. Especially when referring to the Heavenly Demon of that era, there were frequent descriptions like “a talent that has never existed before and will never exist again.” In truth, since he became the Heavenly Demon in his twenties, such phrases were more than fitting.
I looked at the Skybreaker Sword with hopeful eyes, but it shook the tip of its blade. It was a clear gesture of denial.
[How could someone be this pathetic…]
What?
[How could anyone be this utterly incompetent? Didn’t I clearly explain it in the cave? Keep your stance shoulder-width apart, fix your gaze, tense your lower abdomen, and slash down in a single breath.]
“I did that though.”
[How was that vertical? I've never seen someone slash in a zigzag pattern before.]
“I’ll try again. Just once more.”
I carefully recalled the Skybreaker Sword’s instructions again. Then I got into position and slashed downward with the sword.
Wooosh!
“I think that one looked decent?”
[If you can hear the wind, it means the sword didn’t move along the shortest path.]
“So it’s still wrong.”
[This is truly absurd. Monster, are you cursed or something? That body is clearly mine, so why on earth…]
The Skybreaker Sword’s reaction couldn’t have been colder. If it had a face, if it could express emotions, I was sure it would be looking at me with outright contempt.
I clutched my head with one hand.
“Why? What’s the problem?”
Surely there would come a time when I’d have to swing a sword. If it was this bad even in the Skybreaker Sword’s eyes, then to real martial masters, I’d be utterly laughable.
[Perhaps your new body feels too foreign, and you simply haven’t adapted to it.]
“That’s not it. I can still act just fine. Acting requires precise control over every part of your body. Look at this. I am Sado Hwan.”
[Hmm, your ability to imitate me is astonishing, I’ll give you that. Then how about this—try performing the sword slash as though you’re acting.]
“Why didn’t I think of that? That actually makes sense.”
I closed my eyes.
The real world had countless movies and dramas. Among the ones I’d seen, there must’ve been hundreds involving swordplay. I began recalling those characters.
The lone swordsman who fights to reclaim a legendary stolen blade.
The lone sword wielded to survive a brutal, bloody war.
The lone sword used against many—swift, silent, and deadly.
With my eyes still closed, I gripped the sword tightly. Countless character impressions flashed past, gathered, and scattered across my closed eyelids.
“Hoo.”
The moment I drew a breath in.
I slashed the sword down.
Sspaat–!
This time, instead of a weak gust, a sharp sound tearing through the air rang out.
[...Much better.]
“Really?”
[Still not enough. It feels like you clumsily mixed styles from multiple schools of swordsmanship.]
The Skybreaker Sword had struck the nail on the head. I had, after all, swung the sword based on scenes from countless movies.
When it came to martial arts forms, the Skybreaker Sword had an incredibly sharp eye. In Return of the Murim, even though it couldn’t use internal energy, its grasp of sword forms alone was considered genius level.
“So acting really was the answer, huh.”
It felt strangely satisfying, even though the situation was absurd.
In the real world, I had never been able to prove myself through acting, but inside Return of the Murim, I could finally do just that.
Aside from the fact that every role was a life-or-death performance, this world might actually be better.
[You must remember this sensation and keep practicing.]
“Whatever, let’s give it a go.”
I took off my outer robe. It was unnecessarily flashy and flapped around every time I moved, which made it seriously annoying.
[It’s late. Soon it’ll be midnight.]
“Office workers usually stay up that late. All the fun stuff happens at night.”
[I have no idea what you’re talking about.]
“I’m saying I’m perfectly fine. I’ve got plenty of internal energy, so I’m not tired.”
Martial artists at First-rate level or above can move around all day with just four hours of sleep. Even though Sado Hwan was Second-rate due to sealed meridians, his internal energy reserves were comparable to someone at the Peak level. Thanks to that, I could stay energetic even with minimal sleep.
“To survive in a world this harsh, you need at least that much drive.”
[...Not bad.]
And so, I swung my sword until dawn.
***
The Next Morning
I wanted to slack off after training all night, but of course, Saweol showed up early. I couldn’t let her see I was tired, so I forced myself up.
I was also seriously hungry. We had arrived at the guesthouse last night, but because Seo In-geol had vomited an entire bucket of blood, I’d lost my appetite and couldn’t eat anything.
After quickly washing up, I headed to the main building for breakfast. I could’ve eaten in the annex, but the view from the special room floor of the Cheonghwa Guesthouse was surprisingly nice.
To someone like me, who came from a world with skyscrapers, this world’s utter lack of tall buildings felt strange and foreign. A five-story pavilion at least brought back some of that forgotten high-rise feeling.
I sat at the table, and Saweol and Tak Horak naturally stood by.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
Saweol answered with her head bowed. Tak Horak was about to sit before my words even ended, but hesitated at Saweol’s glance and stood back up.
This was the problem with the cult. Because of their belief in the strong ruling the weak, those with lower status constantly watched the expressions of their superiors. Many were even treated like servants, despite their own strength.
“This is what I need to fix, right?”
Though Saweol had endured all kinds of dirty and rough tasks in the Sado clan, she was never treated like a proper martial artist due to her lowly origins. No wonder her heart harbored loneliness.
Asura Warrior. As the name Asura suggests, the Sado clan was a brutal, merciless family.
‘What Saweol seeks is warmth.’
But the Sado clan had robbed her of that. It was no surprise she sought revenge.
“I need to make her one of mine.”
Since I was just a fake Transcendent Peak master, I needed the power of a real one. If I offered her a few fateful encounters, Saweol could probably reach Transcendent Peak on her own. She might even be a genius on par with the Heavenly Demon.
“Sit down. The table’s big enough.”
At my repeated invitation, Saweol hesitantly sat down. She seemed awkward sharing a table with me. Tak Horak plopped down instantly, looking like he had a lot to say.
Honestly, Tak Horak made me a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t quite the same as the version I’d read in the novel. Now he was a grown man treating me like some kind of idol, and it felt a bit awkward. Every little thing I said earned praise, so I was scared to say anything.
‘Not like I can ditch him.’
For now, Saweol was deceived by my acting and mistook me for a real master. She wouldn’t act recklessly, fearing her revenge might be wasted. But if the situation shifted, she might just take a chance.
Martial artists often throw their lives away like they mean nothing.
Tak Horak, at the very least, was a minimal safeguard. He could probably block one or two surprise attacks from Saweol.
“Shall I take your order?”
Just then, the innkeeper’s assistant approached to take our order.
“Is this inn famous for wheat noodles, roast duck, bamboo leaf liquor, and dumplings?”
“How did you know?”
The assistant looked at me wide-eyed. Understandable. Guesthouses in wuxia always had exactly those four menu items. Well, in some novels they serve black bean noodles, but expecting that here would be too much.
“Then bring three of each.”
“Understood!”
As the assistant went downstairs with the order, Tak Horak immediately opened his mouth.
“Master, an interesting rumor came in last night.”
“A rumor?”
“They say the Sword Saint is looking for a disciple.”
“Maeng Wihak?”
“Yes. And because of it, the entire martial world is in an uproar.”
I was genuinely shocked.
Who was Maeng Wihak, the Sword Saint?
A hypocrite who committed all sorts of atrocities just to monopolize everything. If there were a single bean, he’d eat the whole thing and steal someone else’s too.
And he was accepting a disciple? Nonsense.
“Something’s gone off.”
Maeng Wihak was not the kind to take in disciples. At most, he’d hire a servant.
“Is it because of the Soul Separation Technique?”
In the original Return of the Murim, the Soul Separation Technique succeeded. But now that I had interfered, it had failed.
That may have triggered some unexpected consequences.
“A disciple, huh...”
“They say he’ll accept anyone devoted to the martial path, regardless of origin. The whole martial world is stirred up. They’re giving everyone six months.”
“So there’s going to be a flood of spies.”
“Shall we send some too?”
“Probably.”
But it would be pointless. The Murim Alliance’s intelligence network was enormous, and with Maeng Wihak’s abilities, infiltration would fail anyway. Like Yun Yeopja, Maeng Wihak had a special ability—he could see energy with his eyes.
Even if it was internal energy, he never misread it. That ability is what allowed him to reign as the strongest orthodox warrior.
“He’s my counter. Best to avoid him.”
My plan was to emerge in the martial world under the pretense of being from the East. But if Maeng Wihak sensed the energy of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art in me, he’d probably try to dissect me on the spot.
Of course, the martial world was vast, and Maeng Wihak didn’t roam around much, so our chances of meeting were slim.
Slim, right? Please, let this be a case where the cliché doesn’t apply.
I mean, it’s not like I’m the protagonist.
Just as I was about to start eating—
A loud clamor echoed as several people stormed up the stairs.
The fierce, threatening energy they exuded made their intentions clear to anyone watching.
They were dressed in fairly luxurious outfits and had the firm builds of trained martial artists. At the end stood a pale-faced Seo In-geol.
“You bastard! You dare use wicked sorcery on the young lord of our Seo clan?!”
Ah.
Looks like the cliché never misses.
I think I might actually be the protagonist.