Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: 32 Rogue Arts
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"Chomp chomp! That house... when did that house...?"
Impossible.
How could a house like that pop up overnight?
I turned to the neighbor, eyes still wide with shock.
He just blinked vacantly, same as before.
"Dumped every last coin I had into it and poured my soul into building it for over a month. Whaddya think? Pretty damn nice, right? I'm a natural at throwing up houses."
"Over a month...?"
The man nodded.
Ah!
Right, yeah.
It's been over a month since I holed up in Zhangan.
I only got back to the village a month ago.
Still, could anyone really build something like that in just a month?
"So why'd you come here?"
"To farm."
"Farm? Here?"
"Yeah. Land's too pricey everywhere else—you'd have to tenant farm, and the landlords snatch half or more of your harvest. No cash to buy my own plot. Then I heard about this place by chance and showed up."
I scanned the whole village once over.
Ruins everywhere, weeds taller than a grown man.
This wasn't ordinary farmland. You'd need slash-and-burn settlers to make a dent.
"But you're the village chief here?"
"Y-Yeah? Only one left in the village."
"Hmm. So to farm here, I need your permission? Gotta pay up?"
"No... no money needed. You really think you can farm here?"
"It'll be tough, sure, but better than landlords stealing your hard-earned crops, right?"
"True, but..."
What is it?
Everything he says makes perfect sense.
But something feels off.
"But."
"Yeah?"
"You know why no one's come to our village even though the landlords don't take a cut of the crops? Ever hear why it turned into Dogless Village, not a single dog left?"
"Beats me."
He doesn't know.
Doesn't know.
That's why he came.
Sigh.
Should I tell him?
He'll bolt if I do.
But no choice.
Can't lie to him as village chief.
"Just eight years ago, it wasn't Dogless Village. It was Martial Mystery Village."
"Oh! Martial Mystery Village. Now that's a badass name!"
Not something to get excited about, tsk.
"A hundred years back, the world's greatest warrior lived in our village. Flashy nickname too—Nine Heavens War God or whatever. And tagging along were the almighty Four Great Martial Lords who served him: Azure Dragon Sword Lord, White Tiger Blade Lord, Vermilion Bird Fire Lord, and Black Tortoise Sage Lord."
"Not big on murim tales..."
"This is important. You gotta hear it."
"Alright, fine. So?"
"The Nine Heavens War God and Four Great Martial Lords ascended to immortality, the experts who'd settled here followed suit, and the village ended up as just another ordinary mountain hamlet."
"Hmm... do I really need to know this for farming?"
Ah!
This guy.
Not liking him.
"Farmers moved in to fill the void. Fertile soil meant bumper crops every year. But..."
"But?"
"Murim folk showed up. Hunting for the War God's and Lords' manuals, weapons, legacies."
"Uh... that's a problem..."
"Yeah. Some were decent, but not all. Demons, bandits, mountain raiders, dark sect scum, street thugs—you name it. Every time they rolled in, villagers dropped like flies."
"S-So... that's why no one's left? All slaughtered?"
Whew.
Totally spooked.
Gonna leave.
Shouldn't have said anything?
"Up until six years ago, there were just under fifty of us, me and my mom included. Then a plague hit hard—everyone died or fled. Just me left."
"So no murim visitors in six years?"
"Right. But mister, you might not follow murim news, but the legends about the Nine Heavens War God from a century ago are huge. No telling when more'll come sniffing for fortunes."
The man's face darkened.
Head half-bowed, staring holes into the ground.
Guess he's made up his mind to run scared.
"Eh, no big deal."
"Huh?"
"I'm just a farmer tending crops. Why would they mess with me?"
"Well, sure, but..."
"Hasn't happened in six years, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Good enough. Hey, chief."
"Yes?"
"Like I said, blew my whole fortune on that house. Nowhere else to go. Die here, fine by me—I'm staying."
"Ah... okay. If that's how it is..."
"I'll!"
"Eek!"
"Be a proper villager of Dogless... er, Martial Mystery Village now, so gotta do something for the place, yeah?"
"You don't have to..."
"Clean!"
"Clean?"
"Yeah! I'll tidy up the village, so make me an official villager, chief."
"No need for that..."
"I wanna. Can't keep living in this weed-choked mess that might be a village or not. Haha! Anyway, nice doing business with ya from here on."
"Ah, yeah. You too."
"Catch ya later!"
Swish swish.
Swish swish.
That guy.
Started sweeping again.
Gonna take half a year just to hack down the village weeds.
Whatever.
He'll tire out and quit eventually.
Back home.
Lay down on the bed again.
But this is weird.
No, straight-up impossible.
First, why didn't I die?
Second, how'd I get home?
Third, ran my ass off all yesterday, but far from tired—body's light as a feather, bursting with energy. Can't even contain it.
Fourth, neighbor moves in right on time—coincidence?
Ah!
Dunno.
Anyway, gotta head back to Zhangan.
Earn money there, rebuild the village like old times.
But I'm worried.
Dunno why Horizontal Mountain Seven Blood Demons let me live.
Did they?
Anyway, if I run into 'em again, I'm dead meat.
Dead for sure that time.
Not even certain they've cleared out of the area.
No safer spot than the village right now.
Hide out here awhile... Ah!
This overflowing power's too much.
Time to train.
Shiiiing!
Slash slash!
Swish swish swish!
Lost the sword I bought for two liang of silver from those Horizontal Mountain bastards.
So I grabbed the wooden one from kid days and swung the 32 Rogue Arts.
Long ago.
Way back.
There was a legendary rogue master called the Invincible Rogue King.
In his later years, he devised the 32 Rogue Arts just for rogues.
Left behind the manual.
So famous and powerful, one in every two rogues in the current murim rogue world trains it.
Me too—turned rogue at sixteen, blew my entire three liang fortune to snag it, been drilling four years now.
Yeah, just the first half.
How could a manual that legendary go for three liang?
First half's basic stuff.
For novice warriors, low-tier rogues.
Second half definitely exists.
Rumor has it a few top rogues across the world hold it.
Me?
No chance in hell.
Can't buy it, and even if I could scrape the cash, I ain't got it.
Above all, haven't even mastered the basic first half... Huh?
Shiiiing!
Whiiiing!
Shooooosh!
Swish swish shiiiing!
Wooden sword cleaved the air, splitting the wind.
Energy surged from fingertips, racing up arms through my whole body.
What?
Why's it feel this good?
Not just overflowing power.
Forms that always tangled when I tried—tricky bastards—unfolded smooth as lies.
Anyone watching'd think the Five Great Murim Lords crashed here overnight for a group polish job.
Am I nuts?
Why are the forms that never worked flowing like this?
Dream?
Try again.
Shiiiing!
Swish swish!
Shishishishishish!
Training, lost consciousness.
In murim, they call it no-mind state, flow trance.
That's me.
When I snapped out...
"Ah...!!! Morning already?"
That day.
I perfected the 32 Rogue Arts' first half in one go—something four years of grinding couldn't touch.
Bathed in the valley behind the village.
Soaked in the icy stream water, pondered long and hard.
What the hell happened that day, chased by Horizontal Mountain Seven Blood Demons?
But no answers came.
Scrubbed up and headed back to the village... Oops!
Swish swish.
Swish swish.
"Chief! Good morning?"
"Ah, yeah."
That guy.
Cleaning the village paths again today.
I shook my head and went home.
"Lemme see. The money I've squirreled away should still be good, right? Heh heh."
Scoped the area thoroughly.
Even confirmed the neighbor sweeping far down the village path beyond the wall.
Then secretly dug up one corner of the backyard.
To check on the savings I'd stashed... Chomp chomp chomp crunch!
In the secret spot where I hid my money...
Lay the second half of the 32 Rogue Arts.