“What? What’s this novel?”
After coming back to his a tiny exam-student boarding room after work, Dae-sik almost dropped his cup ramen in shock. He stared at the monitor so intensely he didn’t even notice the noodles getting soggy and bloated.
For Dae-sik, a broke and exhausted newcomer to society, the only healing time he had was mealtime.
His favorite ritual: cup ramen, a triangle kimbap, and logging into Panpia to read new uploads.
It was the only luxury allowed to someone who had nothing.
“Wow! What’s up with this protagonist? He’s pathetic as hell, but damn, he’s charming. No typos, no awkward sentences… the writing is solid and the story moves fast. Haha. This one’s a hit. Best thing I’ve read recently.”
Dae-sik judged works purely by fun.
He was a long-time hardcore genre-market maniac.
He could tell whether something was a hit just from one chapter.
Slurp.
As he slurped his ramen, he devoured the text even faster.
His eyes wouldn’t leave the screen.
“Ohhh! Red—what’s with this guy? Puahahahahaha! Are junk items more precious to him than women?”
He normally didn’t care for game-fantasy novels, but he was thrilled.
Red, who treasured junk loot more than women, fit Dae-sik's lifelong-single taste perfectly.
“I already read ten chapters in one breath. The ID is GoldRiver… I’m definitely borrowing your book when it comes out. First—favorite, recommend, and a comment! Full trifecta!”
Usually too lazy to comment on anything, Dae-sik furiously typed on his keyboard.
– This novel is insane! Please upload the next chapter soon!
Even though it was just in the free-serialization section, ten chapters were enough to push it onto the bottom edge of Today’s Best.
It had only been three days since serialization began.
– First!
– Author-nim! Keep your pen sharp! Please give us the next chapter ASAP!!!
– What the? Isn’t the protagonist too pathetic? How is this popular? Don’t publish this. It’s an insult to paper!
You’re the pathetic one. Jealous much? You go write something then!
Comments poured in nonstop.
It was still 2006, when the “sam-sam” internet slang era was in full swing.
A fresh new novel thrown into the quiet Panpia waters slowly began creating a whirlwind.
Publishers’ reactions weren’t any different.
Employees monitoring online works started a meeting immediately.
“Assistant Manager Lee, you’re sure about this?”
“Yes, Chief Editor. Even if it doesn’t do well, this is at least a 5,000-copy guarantee. If we package it right, a reprint is practically certain.”
“Isn’t that too high for something with only ten chapters posted?”
“You read it too, so you know. It’s fun. The opening setup isn’t ridiculous. And especially—its story-driving ability is exceptional. I’m sure this is a veteran author using a pseudonym.”
“Hmmm… It is fun, but fusion fantasy still seems more popular than game-fantasy right now…”
“Readers’ tastes have shifted. Game-fantasy will dominate for a while. <Cloud Warrior>—and the title is good. It sounds like something.”
At Jeongjin Publishing, one of the big five in the genre market, the morning editorial meeting heated up.
“I recommend it too. I read it yesterday—Red is extremely appealing.”
Editor Kyung-ran, a seven-year veteran, added her support.
“Chief Editor, we need to send a contact message.”
“What terms should we offer?”
“If they’re a veteran author, at least 4,000 copies and 8 percent royalty guaranteed.”
“Isn’t that too generous?”
“Honestly? I’d love to offer 5,000 copies at 10 percent.”
Assistant Manager Lee was pushing for veteran top-tier contract levels.
The Chief Editor closed his eyes and thought.
He felt it too.
“…Alright. Send the message.”
“Yes! I’ll send it immediately!”
Assistant Manager Lee grinned widely.
Their publisher was struggling lately.
<Cloud Warrior> felt like a lifeline.
“This one’s good. Chief Editor, what do you think?”
Meanwhile, at Nice Media—another publisher late to the genre market—the CEO recommended <Cloud Warrior> to his editor friend.
His eyes sparkled as he watched the monitor.
“I read it yesterday too. The content’s good. The fun is guaranteed.”
“I’ve got a feeling. This one’s ours. Offer 6,000 copies with a 10 percent guarantee.”
“Our finances are bad—are you sure? If the other authors find out, they won’t like it.”
Nice Media was a mid-sized publisher with modest royalty standards.
Offering that level to a supposed newcomer was extremely generous.
This was top-tier veteran-level contracting.
But recently, book sales were dropping while author royalties kept rising.
Not good for publishers.
“I dreamt of a pig last night. This thing will hit 10,000 copies easily.”
CEO Choi of Nice Media was known for intense gut feelings.
He was hooked on <Cloud Warrior> already.
Even if royalties weren’t the best, he treated his authors like family.
“Well, maybe not 10,000… but it’ll be a hit.”
The editor nodded.
“Send the message. If they respond, I’ll go meet them myself.”
“Okaay~!”
* * *
“Huff… huff…”
In the past, I would’ve collapsed, but now my body endured it.
My breathing was light.
The rainy season had ended, but the humid, sticky weather continued.
I climbed the mountain behind the orchard. I left home at 3 a.m.
I couldn’t perform the Taeguk Five-Elements Dual-Intent Internal Method freely at home.
The back mountain was surprisingly tall for a neighborhood mountain.
A 500-meter rocky peak.
That became my nest.
I knew the place well—I’d played here since childhood.
At this early hour, no elderly villagers were climbing.
The rocks were steep, and the forest was dense.
“Wow! This is a whole new world!”
My body felt light enough to fly.
The Great Circulation took exactly two hours.
The Celestial Dragon Divine Lord had force-fed it into me through his “illegal private tutoring,” skipping the Minor Circulation altogether.
Each time, dark, rancid impurities oozed out of my body.
I still had plenty of turbidity left.
After finishing the Great Circulation, I practiced the Taeguk Five-Elements Dual-Intent Fist.
It looked similar to the tai chi routines I’d seen in Chinese films, but also different.
There were 108 continuous movements.
And while performing them, I had to guide my internal energy according to the internal method to see results.
That took another hour.
After finishing the sequence, vibrant new qi surged through my whole body.
It had only been a week, but I was already addicted to the sweet high of internal energy.
“Refreshing~. Hoooooo.”
I exhaled deeply and looked down from the mountain.
With practice finished, the breath I drew in felt like it refilled my lower dantian.
For someone whose only exercise used to be breathing, this was tremendous progress.
I was eager to advance the stages of the internal method quickly.
After all, the Celestial Dragon Divine Lord had reached ascension using this.
He had forcibly created a dantian inside my body.
I was still only at the 1-Star level, but the effects were insane.
My body felt incredible.
Even though I wrote half a book’s worth every day, my shoulders never stiffened.
A short period of energy circulation relaxed me completely.
Even though the summer heat turned my room into a furnace, I barely sweat.
The heat didn’t drain me anymore.
And with the daily practice, my physique improved drastically.
My posture straightened.
Lean muscles formed on my once-skeletal frame.
I had always been 180 centimeters tall—not short.
But from lack of exercise, I weighed about sixty kilos.
People used to call me dried anchovy.
But with my spine straightened and muscle added, even I looked decent now.
In just a week, my body became respectable.
“I’m not living a loser’s life anymore!”
I didn’t fully understand the old man’s intentions from my dream, but I couldn’t waste a heaven-given opportunity.
I wouldn’t live foolishly again.
I didn’t want to waste my time and become a loser like in my past.
Taking in a breath, I watched the rising sun.
It drove away the lingering darkness as the land stretched and woke up.
My eyes felt clear.
The mountains stood shoulder-to-shoulder, embracing the village protectively.
Ahead of the village stretched a plain, with a stream flowing through.
The morning sun floated gently into the sky.
“Just as expected—messages from the big five genre publishers. First success.”
For the past few days, whenever I logged into Panpia, I saw contact messages from several publishers.
I didn’t reply hastily.
The saying born on the Panpia community board was true: If a story is fun, even typing it with your feet will make it popular.
<Cloud Warrior> was loved by readers until 2020 for exactly one reason—
It was fun enough to transcend time.
It had even been translated and published in the U.S.
Though America had trouble digesting certain Korean humor elements.
And in a market dominated by hero narratives, the Cloud Warrior protagonist wasn’t the easiest to localize.
But I didn’t think that far.
All I cared about was money.
“They want to give me top-tier veteran treatment? They want to meet ASAP? Do they think I’m stupid?”
From a friend whose novel flopped, I had a good idea of how publishers behaved.
Tons of online posts existed as well—authors who regretted signing contracts while dazed by publisher flattery.
I chose to be cautious.
And I gave priority to Nice Media.
Originally, <Cloud Warrior> had been their publication.
* * *
“Son, what’s this sudden date?”
“Today, your son is treating you to a full-course meal.”
“My son?”
Mom widened her eyes at me.
She wouldn’t understand.
My official allowance was only 100,000 won per month.
After charging my bus card, whatever remained was just a few ten-thousands.
If I bought a few Choco Pies with friends, the money was gone.
Yet I was treating her today.
Rain poured since morning. We took the bus to town.
My twin sisters went to school for their morning supplementary classes.
Unlike high school, middle school had summer-break supplementary lessons.
Dad had left yesterday to attend a lecture on new organic farming methods.
The timing was perfect.
I needed Mom’s full support.
‘Damn it, the fact that I’m a minor is chaining my ankles.’
Today, the CEO of Nice Media himself was coming to meet me.
To sign the contract.
We had exchanged messages with rough terms.
But I couldn’t do this alone.
I was still a minor.
A minor couldn’t independently perform legal acts.
You needed a legal guardian’s consent—or they had to act on your behalf.
There were exceptions, of course: minors could perform certain acts alone if it only granted them rights or exempted them from obligations.
They could also independently manage property within permitted limits.
But a novel contract wasn’t one of those.
There was an advance payment, penalties, and complex obligations.
This—
—was why I desperately needed Mom today.
I didn’t want to tell Dad yet.
“We’ve arrived. Please disembark, Mother.”
“…Son, have your dad jokes increased lately?”
Mom chuckled as she stepped off the bus.
“Let’s have some coffee.”
“Coffee? Since when do you drink coffee?”
“Of course I do. An iced Americano is perfect for weather like this.”
A recently opened StarBox sat right in front of the bus stop.
‘I need to buy a phone first. This is getting ridiculous.’
Because of our situation, I didn’t even have a cellphone.
Dad was the only one with one.
“Mom. You trust your son, right?”
“Of course. Until my dying day, I’m always on your side.”
Mom said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
We entered StarBox.
‘They came early.’
Even from afar, I could spot the sturdy-looking publisher CEO and his employee sitting by the window.
The appointment was at 11, but they’d arrived early to wait for me.
‘Good sign.’
I approached them.
“Are you from Nice Media?”
My tone came out politely.
The habits I’d formed handling clients at the brokerage firm surfaced unconsciously.
“G–GoldRiver… author-nim?”
They called me by my username, not my name.
“Yes, I’m GoldRiver.”
“Oh!”
The two men let out stunned gasps.
Half-rising from their seats, they stared at me with bewildered, speechless expressions.