This Isn't Wuxia!!
The ancient capital of Luoyang. True to its name as the old seat of dynasties, it was a remarkably bustling city. In the leader's office of the Yongmun Escort Bureau, the most prestigious outfit in all of Luoyang, a man in white clerk's robes bowed his head before Ji Wi-sang, the Sword of Yongmun himself.
"I just can't understand it, Appraiser Baek. I don't recall treating you poorly in any way."
"I'm just tired, sir."
"There's no one else among the appraisers with your skill. We've got hundreds of items that need your eye to verify..."
Though he said this, Ji Wi-sang knew full well how stubborn the man before him could be. Baek Su-gyeong, chief appraiser of the Yongmun Escort Bureau. A true expert in appraisal—if nothing else, his knack for spotting genuine treasures was legendary. How many scams had they dodged thanks to those eyes? The stiff yellow resignation letter on the desk, emblazoned with the word "resignation," grated on him. The man knew no martial arts, but finding someone with such a unique gift in the jianghu was no easy task.
"Must you really quit?"
"Yes, Leader."
"...If you're set on it, there's nothing for it. I'll make sure your severance is generous. But there may come times when I need your help again—don't refuse me then."
That seemed reasonable enough. Baek Su-gyeong agreed, and Ji Wi-sang nodded.
"Honestly, I'm not sure if accepting this resignation is the right call. But if it's what you want, I'll let you go."
Ji Wi-sang picked up the letter.
"Just be careful out there. You're more special than you realize. A sharp awl will always poke through, no matter what sack you stuff it in."
"I'll etch your words into my bones, sir."
Bringing his hands together and bowing deeply, the former chief appraiser left the office with a lighthearted expression. Watching his retreating figure, Ji Wi-sang closed his eyes.
"Live peacefully, Su-gyeong."
──It had been about eight years since Baek Su-gyeong plummeted into the Central Plains. A former office drone turned full-time web novel author, it took him roughly a month to realize he'd landed in a world straight out of the countless murim stories he'd written and read to death. A place where justice and heroism were scarce as hen's teeth. It felt more like one of those Chinese xianxia tales mockingly dubbed "gangster wuxia" back home.
Of course, even in such a world, there were good souls and upright folks aplenty. Thanks to their kindness, he'd spent five years at the Yongmun Escort Bureau. With his savings and severance, he'd come down to Wuan three years ago to open his bookstore, Baekun Seogwan. With no way home in sight and zero talent for martial arts, adapting to murim life was all he could manage. All he wanted was to coast through his remaining days in peace.
That delusion, anyway. If only he hadn't gotten fed up with murim's pathetic state and decided to write about it.
"This isn't wuxia. Not the wuxia I know."
Three years had passed since Baek Su-gyeong set up shop in Wuan, Hubei. His bookstore sat in the bustling heart of the city, turning enough profit to get by—but he was deeply dissatisfied. The gap between the murim of his stories and this one gnawed at him. Righteous bandits? More like gangsters who had pawned off their chivalry. You couldn't relax anywhere with those thugs prowling. No wonder the imperial court was itching to crack down on them.
That was the only thought running through his head.
"This isn't proper wuxia!!"
Yeah, this wasn't murim. Not the world brimming with heroic spirits and vital-energy-infused champions striding boldly. At least, not the murim Baek Su-gyeong knew. The distance between them felt like a million light-years. Folks panicked and fled at the mere sight of sword-wielding brutes. Rumors even swirled that the authorities left murim alone because those bastards ate steel for breakfast.
"Ugh..."
Closing up shop, Baek Su-gyeong slumped at his desk, deep in thought. A seasoned wuxia author back home, this murim felt alien—heterogeneous, even. The sects he knew existed here under the same names, but their deeds were no better than those of rogue bandits. The dissonance was unbearable.
"This just ain't right."
It wasn't that eight years had suddenly made his body sluggish; the frustration he'd bottled up had finally erupted. By the time he snapped out of it, he'd dashed off a novel in a fit of pique. Borrowing the name of murim's paramount sect, Wudang. A simple tale of a regressed Wudang warrior roaming the jianghu on heroic exploits. He'd titled it simply: Wudang Sword Hero.
"Won't Wudang just kill me for this?"
That was why Baek Su-gyeong stared at the finished first volume without a clue what to do next. Fear of Wudang. Copyright might be a fuzzy concept here, but they were still murim warriors. He was just a powerless bookstore owner.
"What the hell do I do with this?"
A world so muddled you couldn't tell righteous sects from demonic ones. Was this murim? He'd poured his rage into the pages, but now, faced with showing it to anyone, terror won out. Too precious to toss, not quite sellable—where to put it? Baek Su-gyeong agonized over the book on his desk.
"Owner Baek!"
A lively voice called out. Baek Su-gyeong looked up to see So Ssaang-a, the spirited young merchant with a heavy load on her back. He rose from his chair. Right on time.
"Come in, Leader So."
"I got all the books you asked for! Gonna pay top coin for 'em?"
"Book prices are always fair market, Leader So."
Her name was So Ssaang-a, a young trader he'd known since settling in Hubei. Last scion of a bankrupt merchant house, or so the story went. Pitying her plight, Baek Su-gyeong had become a steady customer—but she always looked strained. Barely into her early twenties, propping up a fallen clan alone couldn't be easy.
"I'll unpack the goods, Owner Baek."
"Please do."
So Ssaang-a swiftly unloaded books from her pack. The ones he'd requested appeared one by one. Reading material was scarce since arriving here; he had no choice but to rely on her. A bookstore owner couldn't go peddling his own feet, and she was the only one he trusted.
"Fifteen volumes total! Fifty gold nyang."
"Don't try to gouge me."
"But I hustled so hard! Went all the way to Chang'an!"
Her lips puffed out like a sulky child, a protest against his lack of appreciation. Plopping under the bookstore's awning, her stomach let out a loud growl. Baek Su-gyeong pretended not to hear, but her face flushed beet red.
"Eek."
"Skipped meals again? Come inside. The shop can close for a bit."
"Th-that's!"
"Inside."
Dragging the stubborn So Ssaang-a to the inner courtyard, he shut the door and hung the "Closed" sign—elegantly inscribed wood for that classical touch. Then he headed to the yard.
'Feeding her every time is a chore.'
She visited every two weeks or so. He bought not just books through her, but daily necessities and groceries too. So she had to drop by at least that often. And every time, she showed up starving but too proud to admit it. How tenacious could one girl be?
Grrrrowl.
Entering the yard, the sound hit him again. So Ssaang-a's face burned like a volcano.
"I-I'm not hungry! It's just... you know!"
"I've known you three years, Leader So. Your lies show."
"Ugh..."
"Follow me."
Baek Su-gyeong strode off briskly; So Ssaang-a trailed reluctantly behind. He served her a meal and sat across, eating his own. Nothing fancy, but she devoured it like a whirlwind, half-starved. He couldn't help a wry smile.
"No one's stealing it. Eat slower."
"...Thank you, Owner Baek."
She gulped down the water he handed her. About fifteen minutes later, with five empty bowls stacked by her—hers alone—her feast ended.
"Still the same appetite."
"W-well."
Her face was red again.
"Y-your food's just too good, Owner..."
"I've told you not to overdo it. And don't skip meals."
"But then I can't afford stock."
To a merchant, capital for goods was everything. Buy low, sell high—but without a caravan, it was a pipe dream for So Ssaang-a and her ruined Gyeongun Merchant Group. Rebuilding would take astronomical sums.
"...I get it, but take it easy."
He knew she wouldn't listen. Handing her the promised payment to send her off—
"Owner, what's this book? Never seen it before."
"Hm?"
Straightening bookshelves, Baek Su-gyeong peeked out. So Ssaang-a held Wudang Sword Hero.
"Th-that's!"
"Brand new to me..."
Baek Su-gyeong panicked.
"Give it back!"
"Aw, lemme read a bit first. Pretty please?"
"Not okay at all!"
Ignoring him, So Ssaang-a tore through the pages with ferocious speed. A chase ensued—him grabbing, her dodging—for about half an hour. Failing to snatch it back, Baek Su-gyeong panted, wiping sweat from his chin. She'd finished it, closing the book.
"Owner Baek, who wrote this? No author name."
"Why do you ask?"
"This'll sell!"
Her eyes sparkled with vitality. A merchant needed the eye for profit—spotting treasures that'd bring in the gold. Without it, you weren't a real trader.
"The saga of Great Hero Jin-un, Wudang disciple—first volume!! This is a hit! I'd pay premium to stock it! Never seen anything like it!!"
Baek Su-gyeong slapped his forehead.
"Leader So."
"Yes, Owner?"
"Give it back. One-of-a-kind."
"Huh?"
She looked baffled, clutching it protectively. He scowled.
"I wrote it."
"Whaaat?!"
Not puzzled now—pure shock. She gaped, hand over mouth. Seizing the moment, Baek Su-gyeong reclaimed Wudang Sword Hero and dusted it off.
"Only copy in the world. Straight from my hand."
"You wrote this? For real?"
As an author, that question stung. He grumbled sourly.
"Yes. Something wrong?"
"No, no, no! Owner, you ever think of selling it?!"
"Wudang scares me."
No joke there—dead serious. To a mere bookstore owner, murim folk were reapers. Especially ones quick to draw blades. After witnessing their rampages, Baek Su-gyeong wanted nothing to do with them. How many shops had they trashed? Innocents caught in their brawls?
So he'd written it in anger, but never meant to show or sell it.
"Give up on it. Just a rash scribble. Embarrassing enough showing you."
"No way! This'll sell big, I swear!"
Unlike his pessimism, So Ssaang-a was convinced. What he'd penned was modern wuxia—evolved from regression, possession, reincarnation tropes. To her, steeped in stuffy Central Plains classics, it was a revelation.
"If you can't give it away, at least let me copy it! Pleeease! It'll fly off shelves, Owner!"
"...Hmph. Not keen, but... if you insist that hard."
After half an hour of her relentless pleading, Baek Su-gyeong surrendered. As she transcribed the Wudang Sword Hero manuscript, he watched with a conflicted frown.
'This could get me killed.'
Praying no jianghu thugs would storm his shop, Baek Su-gyeong sighed. He had no inkling of the ripples that single copied first volume would send through the jianghu.