It's not as though I'd shunned what's called the murim from the start.
On the contrary, I'd been very interested in it, closer to being a fan.
There's a type of kid you always find one of, wherever you go.
The kid who holes up in a corner of his room with a book instead of hanging out with friends.
At the orphanage, I was that type.
But the orphanage's collection of books was limited, and the books I could read weren't infinite.
The director must have found a book-loving elementary schooler admirable, because the director gladly shared a personal hobby with me.
Korea's elders had, as a rule, spent their youth alongside martial arts novels.
Among them, the director was someone who could fairly claim to be an aficionado.
By then, I'd already come to love text itself, and martial arts novels, built around exciting stories, seeped in easily.
So from the moment I first realized the truth of this world, I'd started to hope.
‘Well, maybe there's a reason I suddenly landed here? Like some fated miraculous encounter. Something like that?’
I'd never lived believing in things like fate, but if you suddenly get transported to a strange world out of nowhere, you start believing.
It's just that reality wasn't a novel.
[You, learn martial arts? When you can't even push a cart properly?]
[Martial arts……? Hm, sure. Well, you should dream big.]
[Hm? Martial arts? Little brother Heo, you're pretty tall, but your build for learning martial arts is just……. Nope, it isn't.]
The last one was Hong-hyung's.
Communication isn't made up only of the words that come out of one's mouth.
At the time, anyone could see Hong-hyung was being careful not to disappoint me too much.
So it was only natural that I gave up.
Really, aside from suddenly falling into a murim world, it was the obvious outcome.
The kid who just reads books in the corner of his room is the type you find one of wherever you go.
You've probably never seen that kid be an all-around athlete.
If anything, I'm closer to a weakling.
Even being tall is only by the standards of this world, which is roughly medieval China.
Even the average height of modern Korea just counts as tall in the murim.
And by the standard of real martial artists, it's merely so-so, which makes it very easy to see why martial artists are held in awe.
Their build alone is different.
A martial artist looks like a martial artist to anyone.
Whereas I look like a scholar to anyone.
Thin and lanky, and I'd been told plenty of times that I had the face of someone who'd be good at studying.
I was hopeless at sports, and even in P.E. class, just controlling my own body was a struggle.
Naturally, my longing for the murim folded under the coldness of reality.
And all that was left was the weight of killing, which never showed up in the novels.
The breed called martial artists, as actually encountered, were dangerous beyond measure, orthodox and unorthodox alike.
Superhumans who carry blades and can kill a person at any moment.
Don't I, in fact, end up seeing someone die like today just when I start to forget?
If asked, hand on heart, whether they could walk that path, how many people would shake their heads?
So I gave up on martial arts.
Instead, I chose what I was good at, what I'd done well even in the modern world.
“Okay, okay, they say handwriting doesn't matter, but…….”
Now that I was a Licentiate, I could receive a bit more lamp oil without worrying about anyone's looks.
It had grown dark, but by the oil lamp I could study a little longer.
Reading I do when it's brighter. Once the sun has fully set, it's better to practice calligraphy.
“Vigorous and elegant brushwork.”
I repeated my goal aloud.
The civil service examination, the test for reaching office, isn't conducted sloppily.
There are copyists to prevent an examinee's calligraphy skill from affecting whether he passes or fails.
They rewrite the examinees' answers in a set script and pass them to the examiners.
It's thorough anonymity.
But once you reach office?
Won't there be documents I have to write with my own hand?
Without at least minimal calligraphy skill, there'll be problems.
And as I said before, I have no talent for using my body, and that goes for my hands too.
The brush I had to hold instead of a ballpoint pen was utterly foreign, and my calligraphy was so bad I'd be embarrassed to call myself a scholar anywhere.
Now that I'm a Licentiate, it's a practical problem too. A scholar with fine handwriting inspires more trust than one with a scrawl.
The other idlers at Jeong Manor mostly looked down on me for things like that.
I can't just keep taking it.
Steadying the slight tremor in my hand with a deep breath and savoring the faint scent of ink I'd grown used to, I drew the brush in a single unbroken stroke.
My practice book was the blank book from the library.
The paper was definitely high-quality and held the ink well.
The brush raced smoothly across the white paper.
The characters I'd written most, those of my name, were inscribed on it.
Whether it was elegant I couldn't say, but it did look vigorous.
“Not bad at all, huh?”
Good enough that Teacher might nod if I showed him.
One more time.
Then the ink, not yet even dry, slid away and vanished.
“……?”
I wondered if the flickering lamp had made me see wrong.
I brought my face so close my nose almost touched it. But I hadn't seen wrong.
The faint scent of ink still lingered.
Pure white, blank paper.
“What is this?”
I drew the brush again. Carelessly scrawled lines covered the blank page. It was nearly smeared black with ink.
Once again, the lines slid away and vanished.
This time it looked a little different from simply vanishing.
Because I'd scrawled so wildly, beads of ink had formed from surface tension, and those raised drops sank intact into the book.
It was being sucked in.
I was about to touch it but froze.
What if I got sucked in too?
Looking around, I spotted a paperweight and picked it up.
I'd gotten it as soon as I came to Jeong Manor. It was old and worn from handling.
Without a moment to think, I put it on the page simply because it was there.
For a moment, it just did its proper job of gently pressing down the paper.
But a moment later, it sank without a sound.
And it sank completely into the book and vanished.
“What in the world is this trickery?”
As I sat there just blinking, light suddenly bloomed from the book.
***
Hong Gu-pae's eyes snapped open.
In truth, he hadn't been asleep to begin with.
Except for the likes of little brother Heo, who oddly wanted to stay active after sundown, everyone was asleep by the end of the Hour of the Dog.
No sun, no activity.
Even an outstanding martial artist wouldn't choose to roam around in the dead of night.
Night prowling belonged to the gentlemen on the rafters, so it was a perfect way to invite misunderstanding.
Hong Gu-pae scratched his head once, then used his movement arts.
No one could notice.
Hong Gu-pae had never once revealed his true martial arts at Jeong Manor.
Appearing to be merely one of the stronger retainers had suited him.
The lights were on in the Chairman's quarters.
When he slipped into the room as if seeping through the darkness, there were people already gathered.
Sa Pae-cheon, the library keeper and a provincial graduate retired to the countryside, and the Chairman of Jeong Manor.
And Hong Gu-pae bowed his head to Sa Pae-cheon.
The Chairman of Jeong Manor, too, bowed his head, contrary to the hierarchy known to the outside world.
Sa Pae-cheon, his expression cold, spoke.
“The Sword Star should be on his way here. Be ready in case anything goes wrong.”
“As you command.”
Hong Gu-pae and the Chairman of Jeong Manor vanished as if seeping into the shadows.
The lamp flame didn't even flicker.
It was a masterful concealment art, a sight that would bring to an onlooker's mind an ominous name: the Hermit Forest.
Sa Pae-cheon was quietly watching something far away.
Though a wall blocked the way, he was already watching someone.
There was none of the kindly smile he showed by day as the library keeper.
Only the menacing air peculiar to one who had cast himself into the murim was held in check around him.
It could be called refined murderous intent.
“You have come.”
“My apologies for being late.”
Again, there was no sound.
At some point, an old man of similar age had appeared before Sa Pae-cheon.
The Sword Star, Namgung Hyeon-ri.
Of the Sun-Moon Seven Stars, who reigned at the pinnacle of the orthodox murim, he was the one who shone as the star of the sword.
Sa Pae-cheon didn't show it, but he was tense.
The Sword Star's domain, which would normally have covered all of Lizhou and then some, was quietly held in check and did not cast the Azure Heaven of the Namgung.
Long ago, Sa Pae-cheon had once been caught up in that domain.
It was the moment in his life when he'd been closest to death.
That was the power the man before him was now holding in check.
Ordinary folk would see merely an upright-looking old man, but martial artists who had reached a certain realm saw something else.
A living, breathing natural disaster.
That was what the murim's Absolute Masters were.
“Are you serious about defecting?”
“I am.”
And that monster, no different from an immortal, was calmly spouting madness.
Sa Pae-cheon thought.
How on earth had the Sword Star discovered that Jeong Manor was a secret outpost of the Demonic Cult?
And why hadn't he informed the orthodox murim or the Imperial Court?
Why, when he could in fact have swept them away single-handedly, had he shown himself through such a complicated method?
Fifteen days earlier, when the Sword Star had visited Lizhou with his three children, Sa Pae-cheon had thought his heart would drop out of his chest.
It was a backwater that a figure of that stature had no reason to target.
Then, when news from the contacts was cut off one by one, he had considered abandoning Jeong Manor.
He'd also tried to reach the trading company in Henan.
That was when a letter suddenly arrived.
[I intend to join the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult. I shall call on you around the Hour of the Dog, seven days from now.]
Sa Pae-cheon halted all withdrawal orders for the time being.
If they'd been exposed that far, they were dead men anyway.
The moment the Sword Star decided so, that is.
Better, then, to hear him out like this.
And that was now.
Whether or not he knew of the other's tension, the Sword Star plopped down into a seat.
“Is this the best hospitality you can offer a guest?”
It was an absurd thing to say.
But in the murim, might is right.
Hong Gu-pae and the Chairman of Jeong Manor moved.
The Sword Star didn't even pay attention.
A table was set, crude as it was.
Coincidentally, it was much like the one laid out for Heo Saeng.
They'd had no choice but to bring the leftovers.
“Lavish. Fresh fish in a land like this.”
The Sword Star downed his wine. He didn't even suspect poison.
In truth, he was at a realm where poison wouldn't work.
“Would you not get to the point?”
He said it as a Captain of the Hermit Forest. The Sword Star silently downed his wine.
He didn't purge the intoxication.
Sa Pae-cheon had no choice but to keep him company.
The most awkward drinking session in the world went on.
Tipsy, the Sword Star spoke as if murmuring.
“I have three children. All three truly love the martial way and pursue it.”
“They are children of the Namgung, so naturally.”
“But the Namgung cannot take those children in.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is a story even the children do not know well yet. I shall tell you the details in due time. In any case, that is why I intend to join the Demonic Cult.”
Sa Pae-cheon felt his mind going hazy.
The younger brother of the Namgung Clan Head, one of the two Absolute Masters representing the Namgung, was now talking about defecting.
And with utter seriousness, as drunken truth.
“As far as the world knows, I came to Sichuan on a chivalrous errand to hunt down some spy.”
“When in truth it was to make contact?”
“Who would dare suspect me? So please, let me meet the Heavenly Demon……. No, the Lord Cult Leader.”
In that moment, Sa Pae-cheon relaxed.
The Sword Star's words were utterly sincere.
Those bearing the Namgung name were poor at lying. Anyone who had ever visited that family would agree.
It was a sword clan built on boundless stubbornness and uprightness.
And through that uprightness, it held the top seat among the Five Great Clans, one of the symbols of the orthodox murim.
The Namgung do not know how to lie.
A famous saying of the martial world.
That the words "Lord Cult Leader" had come from that mouth meant his mind was already made up.
On the eve of the Great Undertaking, one of the seven stars of the Murim Alliance's Sun-Moon Seven Stars would defect.
It would be a story recorded forever in murim history.
Sa Pae-cheon realized he was standing at the center of history.
“Let us talk.”
He could say nothing else.
***
It wasn't a blinding light.
It was a soft, mist-like halo of light.
And before I could even gasp, it engulfed me.
Intense dizziness hit me.
And everything began to blend together.
Amid the chaos, I could dimly understand what was happening.
The book was reading me.
All of me.
My knowledge.
My experiences.
My life.
It was understanding all of it.
I had the illusion of being sucked into the book.
But that wasn't the case.
When I came to my senses, I was still in my room.
The halo of light that had bloomed from the book had faded away as if it had been a hallucination.
When you're too shocked, you can't even scream.
I just blankly raised my gaze to look at what was blocking my view.
A scroll.
A scroll that looked old-fashioned even by this era's standards.
And it was floating in midair.
Before my mind could start working again, the scroll unrolled.
A pure white, blank sheet.
Then ink welled up and began to churn across it.
It soon became letters.
Letters.
[Only you can see this scroll.]
[Put all of creation into the book.]
[Then grace shall be upon you.]
Slowly, my mind began to work again.
“Han……gul?”
This is a strange world, not even just a far-off foreign land.
And in such a place, I was seeing King Sejong the Great's script for the first time in five years.
I know.
That no independent nation of the Korean Peninsula exists in this world.
This is a completely different world that resembles China. It isn't even Earth.
So there's no Hangul.
Yet it's right before my eyes.
It read my memories and is speaking to me.