The Stalker and the Slaughter Star

Friend Cheong blinked. “Mocking me? Me?”

“How dare you! How dare you!” Judging by the trembling corners of her eyes, she was genuinely furious. Acheong tilted her head. What now? Why was she angry? Surely the latrine hadn’t been that filthy?

“You swallow the money and then wag your tail again? How could you, with that vulgar display, dare…!”

“Wag my tail? Me?”

“How dare a lowly thing like you approach Young Master Ok Girin! How dare you!”

“Ah. I see.” Acheong realized her misunderstanding. It hadn’t been a token of appreciation for the quick-use toilet pass, but an envelope from a chaebol mother-in-law. Even for something like that, it had been rather stingy! So Acheong felt rightfully wronged. How could a proud Korean man ever imagine receiving a money envelope to break up with his partner? It required the ability to conceive of possibilities beyond the realm of imagination. If Acheong possessed such ability, she wouldn’t be a factory worker but a genius scientist baking superconductors.

“Let me confirm one thing first. Are you personally acquainted with Ok Girin?”

“Oh, now you’re showing your true colors?”

“Ah. Unrequited love? So you’re not even acquainted?”

In that case, there was no need to spell it out. Acheong gently turned the ignition. “So, what, let’s say I mocked you. What are you going to do about it? What can you do, miss? Tremble and scream?”

The woman’s vicious face grew even more vicious. “Noggal, Makgwi, drag that bitch before me at once.”

The thugs flanking her on either side took a step forward. Acheong hurriedly cut in. “Wait!”

“Now you want to beg for forgiveness? You should have listened when I spoke nicely.”

“That aside, what exactly is your plan? Once those scary uncles make me kneel, then what?”

“I’ll sever the tendons in your limbs and throw you into a brothel. You’ll sell your body for a single coin. If you service a hundred men a day, I wonder how long you’ll last?”

The words floating before her eyes. Acheong smiled brightly. The lonely star of heavenly slaughter shone in the most profane color in the world. Yes, things had been far too peaceful lately.

“As far as I know, Sani can be a bit prickly, but she’s not a bad kid. Someone like you never stood a chance with her to begin with, don’t you think?”

“……What did you say?”

“I mean, her family’s good. Her martial arts aren’t bad either, though not as good as mine. Her face—well, her face speaks for itself. Her personality’s a bit sulky so she can’t be called magnanimous, but still. Would someone that outstanding ever associate with a woman who drags thugs around on both sides?”

“You, what are you saying right now……”

“Even if the heavens and earth were overturned, there’s zero possibility. Following her around and telling her to break up like some mother-in-law—that’s stalking. A filthy crime. Ah, do you not know English? Do you know English?”

The woman’s face flushed red. At this point she could only be called a red person. “If I were Sani, even if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everyone else in the world died and only you and I remained, I still wouldn’t stick it in you. I’d rather stick it in a tree hole.”

“Wh-what! You dog-like, f-fucking bitch. What are you doing!”

The woman was so enraged that words failed her. At her shrill cry, Noggal (right) and Makgwi (left) kicked off the ground.

Yes. This was it. With a vicious smile that looked ready to tear her lips to her ears, Acheong boldly shouted, “Come! My Wolgwang-geom hungers. Ah, shii—”

Acheong’s hand swept through empty air at her waist. Wolgwang-geom (No. 6) leaned quietly against the table beside her. Because of that, she missed the timing to counter the attack. Acheong instead leapt nimbly backward to create distance. Wolnyeo Light Steps.

The historical records of the late Spring and Autumn period described it thus: Wolnyeo moved with the innocent motions of a child, frolicking as if in water. Yet she was never sluggish, swift beyond the eye like dandelion seeds in a gale. Even so, she never lost her graceful, fluttering rhythm, her figure as lovely as a young maiden’s.

One step back covered one jang, the next two steps covered two jang, and with three light steps three jang had already receded. Then the fourth step suddenly reversed direction, closing the gap until they were nearly within arm’s reach. Having lost the initiative, she seized the counterattack through a single movement technique and turned it back into an offensive. This was why the jianghu emphasized footwork and movement techniques. The symbol ∊ meant element; footwork was an element of movement technique, a part of it.

“What is this……!”

Noggal was the guard of the Black Shadow Society’s young mistress, the cherished youngest daughter born after four consecutive sons. A guard of that caliber was a late-stage first-class expert. And at late-stage first-class, one possessed the discernment to recognize how absurd Acheong’s movement technique was.

Swift movement techniques struggled with changing direction, while those that changed direction fluidly lacked speed. Merely being able to reverse direction in a single step earned praise as an excellent movement technique. Conversely, maintaining previous speed while moving backward was already considered a peerless technique under heaven. A technique that grew even faster when charging forward after retreating was something he had never even heard of.

The result was the current situation: attacking first yet arriving later.

Noggal urgently shouted, “Young miss, run—”

“Where do you think you’re going. You can’t. Shut up.”

Acheong thrust her fist toward Noggal’s mouth. A fist extending in a gentle curve. Circle Fist, First Form: Fierce Ape Probing. A common fist technique whose manual could be found rolling around any marketplace. Noggal raised his forearm to deflect the punch. Immediately, the left hand followed! Neither fully open nor clenched, it took the distinctive grip of Mantis Fist—Mantis Hand.

The development of the Mantis Hand was predictable. Mantis Fist, Second Form: Luan’s Wing Strike. Then Mandarin Duck Kick, Self-Defense Elbow Strike, Point-Three Thrust, Yu Family Fist Art’s Rolling Forward Thrust, Wolf Fang Fist’s Wolf Fang Strike…… All of them were common fist techniques found in the marketplace.

Extremely few Free Training Points were needed to raise a white-bordered martial art to the first star. They were practically free to learn. That was why Acheong had browsed every bookstore she passed and learned every white martial art she touched. She simply hadn’t used them because she had the purple-grade Wolnyeo Sword Art, which was cheat-level even among purple arts.

Reaching the first star meant one had memorized the basic forms. It referred to a state where one could properly imitate the external shape, even without understanding the true intent, momentum, qi circulation, or applications of the forms. But even a superficial imitation could become a powerful martial art when struck with overwhelming speed and force backed by vast internal energy. And if one mixed dozens of such techniques at random?

That was the feat Acheong was currently performing.

Noggal was driven into a corner. “This bitch!”

Makgwi charged in, striking at Acheong’s flank. Acheong’s left hand moved. A casual flick, as if swatting a fly. In that instant, a deep, resonant temple bell rang out!

Duung—!

An invisible force crossed a distance of two cheok (roughly sixty centimeters) and struck Makgwi in the chest. A technique that struck from afar was called Projected Palm. Makgwi flew like a cannonball and crashed into the back wall of the courtyard. In that moment, Acheong frowned and withdrew her offensive. Taking it as a kind of permission, Noggal rushed toward his junior.

“Makgwi! Come to your senses!”

“Kuhk.”

His chest was completely caved in. His ribcage had been shattered. Bone fragments had torn through all his internal organs. The blood-boiling cough became Makgwi’s final words.

“Makgwi!”

Noggal cried out in grief. Just because they were unorthodox didn’t mean they only schemed to betray one another. Rather, the crueler they were to outsiders, the tighter their bonds with each other could be. Acheong watched the scene and muttered, “Shit. The hand-feel is really off……”

She should have learned something else. It was a ruthless assessment of the Yeorae Shinjang.

Acheong used a sword. The sensation of slicing through muscle and bone, the feeling against the palm gripping the sword, was almost ecstatic. The hardships of living in a foreign land with different culture and common sense. The constantly fluctuating numbers above people’s heads. The status window that shook her mind every time she saw it. Compared to the refreshing thrill of pouring even hotter blood over a body heated by battle, all of it was trivial. Fist techniques simply lacked that flavor. Striking and breaking wasn’t entirely without hand-feel, but it naturally couldn’t compare to the sword. Above all, the inability to see blood was dissatisfying. In that sense, the Yeorae Shinjang was unusable. Even the power of a mere first-star taste was formidable. It was undoubtedly a powerful martial art, but…… the hand-feel was missing. How important was impact feedback!

Suddenly, thirst surged through her. Blood. She needed to see blood. She had to see blood.

“Hey. I’m not interested in melodrama, so skip it. Let’s continue.”

Noggal’s mind snapped into focus. In his heart, he wanted to tear this enemy to death and still not be satisfied. Yet his opponent was a supreme expert who casually unleashed Projected Palm. Of course, Acheong was not such an expert. It was merely a misunderstanding born from ignorance of the game system’s corrections. Moreover, Noggal’s duty was to guard his young miss.

“I have committed a grave discourtesy by failing to recognize the honored one. Please show mercy.”

“A trash mob like you…… talking back?”

“Please, I beg of you.”

Noggal dropped to his knees. Acheong snorted. “Why, didn’t expect this day to come? Living a life sucking other people’s blood, you probably thought you’d die smiling in the arms of your squabbling family after a long life, didn’t you?”

“That is……”

“Mencius said—ah, does Mencius even exist here? He should, right? It’s primitive China. Anyway, he said human nature is good. Because of that, people misunderstand. They think that since everyone harbors goodness inside, even the wicked can be reformed or something.”

It was a ridiculous misunderstanding. Mencius’s theory of innate goodness did not mean that. It was also a proposition that conversely established the opposite. Human nature is good. In other words, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠those whose nature is evil are not human. If your superiors, your officials, even your nation’s ruler do not treat you with goodness, then they are nothing but beasts. Since one cannot be ruled by beasts, take up the bamboo spear. That was what Mencius had said. He was the great thinker who first advocated genuine people-centered governance in human history. (Confucius’s people-centeredness had been too lukewarm because it emphasized trust in ruling and serving.) Thanks to him, Acheong could enjoy her hobby without the slightest hesitation. Acheong killed trash and felt joy, and the disappearance of trash created a better world where everyone benefited. It was the completion of a world where no one was hurt.