Swords Drawn for a Signature
Whoa, stop! Contrary to what he'd imagined, it wasn't Wudang's sect leader Hyeonseongja who had sent the two Taoists from the Jeong faction.
According to their story, the Wudang sect itself was divided into factions. One side insisted on punishing Baek Su-gyeong, the author of the offending text, while the other argued it was just a book—nothing worth overreacting to—and defended him. The two had been dispatched by the defending faction, led by Mujin Jin-in.
"There's no need for Master Su-gyeong to worry too much. We've been ordered by the elders to stay in Wuan and protect you."
"I-is that so."
Baek Su-gyeong felt his mind reeling at Jeongjin's words. Jeongu pulled a book from his robes and held it out toward him.
"Could you sign your name here...? No, better yet, leave your personal seal. If you write it yourself, we'll treasure it as a family heirloom for generations."
"Jeongu! I called dibs on this first, didn't I?!"
"Haha! Senior brother, in something like this, the first to claim it wins!"
"Then I'll teach you the proper way of senior-junior brotherhood myself!"
Ching. Jeongjin drew the sword from his waist. Jeongu, refusing to back down, drew his own.
"I don't care about anything else—this is Master Su-gyeong's personal signature! I won't yield it!"
"Stop! Stop it!! Both of you, stand down!"
The tension spiked to the point where swords clashing wouldn't have been surprising. Baek Su-gyeong's head spun. He felt heat rising to his forehead and let out a sigh.
"Did both of you bring your books?"
"Of course!"
"Right here."
Watching the senior-junior duo proudly present their books, Baek Su-gyeong felt dizzy. It had only been three months. How far had this gone? His stomach burned.
Stomach medicine... I need stomach medicine...
Senior brothers drawing swords over a single author autograph? Was this really a proper murim world?
In any case, Baek Su-gyeong wrote his name for the two wide-eyed Taoists, then extracted vows from them never to draw swords over something like this again.
"Master, you are truly compassionate."
"To worry about our senior-junior bond fraying... Our cultivation falls far short. We've learned another lesson."
No, that's not it! I'd faint if you started swinging swords in front of me!
Hiding his true thoughts, Baek Su-gyeong forced a wry smile.
"By the way, Master Su-gyeong. When does volume 2 come out?"
"V-volume... 2."
To be honest, he had nothing planned. He'd scribbled it out in a fit of anger. It wasn't meant for publication—just a self-indulgent novel to vent his pent-up frustrations. He never dreamed it would reach Wudang, let alone bring people from there.
He'd prayed they'd never cross paths if possible.
It worked out okay, I guess...
At least Wudang hadn't sent killers. In the modern world, they could've slapped him with defamation and a bunch of charges, easy. It was like writing a thinly veiled novel about the Samsung heirs and having it reach their ears. Cold sweat trickled down his spine—it was pure death.
A second wave of heartburn hit.
St-stomach... meds... urk.
His gut burned—not just burning, but scorching.
"Yes. Master is waiting too, so he told us to get a firm answer."
"Your master is...?"
"Hyeoncheon SwordMujin Jin-in."
Why was that name coming up here? Hyeoncheon Sword Mujin—the Sword Absolute among Wudang's Three Absolutes, a master who had perfected the Hyeoncheon Seven Stars Sword, one of Wudang's foundational sword arts. He'd only heard rumors, but still.
Even that guy had read Wudang Sword Hero?
Color drained from his face.
"Master Su-gyeong?"
"Your face is pale. Are you unwell...?"
Jeongu and Jeongjin's worried voices didn't reach Baek Su-gyeong's ears. If even the core of Wudang—the Three Absolutes—had read his book, that meant the sect leader had too. His legs went weak.
I'm gonna lose it, for real.
That was Baek Su-gyeong's last thought before his consciousness faded.
"Master Su-gyeong?!"
Seeing him collapse as if fainting, Jeongjin turned to his junior.
"Jeongu, carry Master! We need to get him to a physician!"
"Yes, senior brother!!"
When Baek Su-gyeong opened his eyes, he saw the unfamiliar ceiling of a physician's quarters. The thick scent of medicinal herbs assaulted his nose.
Did I pass out?
A bitter herbal smell wafted from the decoction pot. Pressing his throbbing forehead, Baek Su-gyeong sat up. Memories before blacking out returned.
"...Ah."
He'd fainted the moment he heard even Wudang's sect leader had read Wudang Sword Hero. His face burned with embarrassment. Separately, his stomach protested fiercely.
"Tch, young man with weak qi? Fainting in the street at midday. Scholar Baek, have you been overworking yourself lately?"
"Physician Hwang."
The gruff voice belonged to the goat-bearded old physician, Hwang Jeong. A female attendant hovered by the old man, who reeked of herbs.
Hwang Jeong set down the medicine bowl and spoke.
"I nearly had a heart attack seeing those Wudang Taoists carry you in. I thought you had no ties to murim folk."
"So did I."
"Tch. Well, everyone has their circumstances. Drink it down. It'll be bitter."
As Baek Su-gyeong lifted the bowl, he asked, "Did they pay the fee?"
"The Wudang Taoists settled it. Don't worry."
"I see."
He took a gulp, and the bitterness slammed his throat. Grimacing, he forced it down with a groan. Once finished, the attendant took the bowl. Hwang Jeong, sitting on the floor, said,
"I hear that book Wudang Sword Hero is all the rage these days."
"Cough."
"They say it's so scarce people pass copies around like crazy. But why no copies in Wuan...?"
"Old man Hwang."
"Ah, it's not that I haven't read it or anything."
Baek Su-gyeong despaired at the physician Hwang Jeong's feigned ignorance. A normal life seemed out of reach.
"So, when's volume 2 coming?"
Whoa, stop!
This was utterly maddening. His fit-of-rage scribble had reached Wudang—that was scary enough—but now crowds swarmed his bookstore, rumors having spread who-knows-where. Just looking made him sweat.
He'd hung a closed sign to dodge them, but they wouldn't leave.
"It was open fine yesterday—why closed today?"
"Scholar Baek, come out if you're in there!!"
"Scholar Baek!! We have questions—come out!!"
Strangers he'd never mingled with now acted chummy, sending chills down his spine. Jeongjin and Jeongu blocked them, but with eyes so crazed, even Wudang warriors might struggle. The conversations outside proved it.
"Quiet! Be quiet!"
"Master Su-gyeong is busy preparing the next volume. No audiences unless on official business!"
"Huh?! Who are you to block Scholar Baek?!"
"Out of the way!"
"Will you only back off after seeing blood?!"
The sound of swords being drawn. Typical murim idiots. As Baek Su-gyeong lunged for the door,
"Jeongu, have you forgotten Master's words?"
"Senior brother!"
"Master cautioned us warriors against swinging swords recklessly. What does our martial prowess exist for?"
Jeongjin's voice halted him.
"Sheathe your sword."
"Understood, senior brother."
The sound of swords returning rang out. Then Jeongjin's resounding voice boomed.
"I am Jeongjin, disciple of the Great Wudang Sect!"
"Wudang?"
"Real Wudang disciples?!"
"Crazy, why are Wudang disciples here?!"
The crowd looked stunned. Wuan was bustling, with some lay Wudang disciples running dojos, but core mountain disciples staying over? Rare.
Thud. He struck the ground with his scabbard tip, qi-infused. A clear metallic ring echoed.
"Master appreciates the interest, but each bit burdens him!"
"Ah, is that so."
"Didn't think of that."
"If Wudang Taoists say so..."
"But murim folk are hard to trust."
"Nah, the Wudang warriors in Wudang Sword Hero were true heroes."
Every word pierced like needles to the heart. Terrified even inside, Baek Su-gyeong fled to the back courtyard, clutching his head.
"How did it come to this..."
Since Jeongjin and Jeongu arrived, his stomach hadn't settled. He'd gotten Pingwei Powder from Hwang Jeong for heartburn, but he'd need to chug it like water soon.
"What a headache."
Sighing deeply, Baek Su-gyeong headed inside. With the door barred, sensible folk wouldn't smash it. In his cluttered study, the familiar smell calmed him somewhat.
"What to do now."
This was alien to Baek Su-gyeong, a middling modern author. All eyes—murim and common—on him? Unlike hiding behind internet anonymity, this Zhongyuan self faced real peril. Offend someone, and it wasn't 5700 malicious comments—it was 5700 chunks of him scattered.
"It's a chance, though..."
To him, scraping the bottom amid rivals, this was heaven-sent. Zhongyuan lacked modern novel styles. Even translated classics blurred novel and pure literature.
So, why not write what I want? No issue.
Plus, he couldn't disappoint readers awaiting his author self.
...Karma?
He hadn't done much this life, but maybe past-life sins. Tongue clicking, he approached the bookshelf.
"Better reread and rewrite once."
His one heaven-given talent: extraordinary memory. He recalled every scene and line, but revisiting the mood wasn't bad. Writers were more emotional than thought. Exhibitionists first, though.
"Here it is."
Pulling the Wudang Sword Hero draft from the shelf corner, Baek Su-gyeong sped through volume 1. In half a geng—thirty minutes—he absorbed it all, then seized his brush.
The opening of Wudang Sword Hero volume 2 draft was set.
「What is a hero?」
Volume 1 posed questions on martial prowess; volume 2 naturally queried heroism.
His brush flew like a heavenly steed galloping a thousand li.
「What sort of person is a heroic warrior?」
Infusing pre-Wudang Sword Hero doubts about this Zhongyuan, his tip held no hesitation. Each ink-laden stroke vented his fury at this world.
Thus, scribbling the rage-diluted manuscript, Baek Su-gyeong unclogged his chest.
And soon after.
Wudang Sword Hero volume 2 emerged into the world.