Chapter 10
Chapter 10
About a Second-Rate Warrior Becoming the Obsession of Every Wanderer -2
Though it’s called the Wanderers’ Inn, it’s honestly far closer to an officetel than some cheap motel or hostel.
After all, if you live as a wandering warrior in Sichuan, you practically have no choice but to stay here, and unless someone has an especially strange personality, everyone wants a stable private room.
“Hm…”
Room Mokran 209.
The place I’d used for nearly seven years now and could practically call home.
Security at the Wanderers’ Inn was ordinary.
An ordinary locked door.
An ordinary window leading outside.
A room where my personal belongings rested comfortably in place.
The only truly noteworthy thing was the bookshelf packed completely full of books.
When you live as a wandering warrior, there are endless moments where you need to kill time.
Whenever that happened, I bought martial arts novels, and little by little they eventually piled up into this.
But this bookshelf didn’t contain only martial arts fiction.
There were also several volumes of what I called “setting books,” where I recorded information I considered absolutely necessary while living in the world of Murim Cheonha.
Unlike other transported protagonists, I never received any kind of memory-enhancement cheat.
So I had no choice.
Naturally, the amount of information became enormous, and some of the books were as thick as actual university textbooks.
The biggest among them contained records of the characters’ enlightenment phrases.
Inside the game Murim Cheonha, the regions themselves were never implemented, so players couldn’t visit them—
But the world map clearly contained a peninsula modeled after Korea and islands modeled after Japan.
After some Chinese politician designated martial arts fiction as part of “Certain Continental Forbidden Literature,” the martial arts genre gradually died out.
And under that influence, names of historical Chinese nations stopped appearing in martial arts novels altogether.
Murim Cheonha borrowed Chinese culture and the overall atmosphere of traditional martial arts worlds almost exactly—
Yet the country itself was never specifically named.
It was simply called the “Imperial Nation.”
Korea became “Hwan Nation.”
Japan became “Yeol Nation.”
Which meant Hangul didn’t exist either.
I confirmed that personally.
As a Korean, it felt strangely uncomfortable knowing Hangul simply didn’t exist in this world.
Still, because of that, the books where I recorded information about Murim Cheonha in Korean were effectively encrypted texts impossible for others here to understand.
The fact someone had hidden beneath my bed meant this room could be infiltrated again at any time.
It wouldn’t even be strange if some wanderer started rummaging through my books.
Even if they stole the records, they wouldn’t understand them—
But the problem was that losing them myself would be disastrous.
It had already been eight years since I fell into the world of Murim Cheonha.
Without memory enhancement like other protagonists, I’d already forgotten huge amounts of information.
I constantly tried to remember as much as possible, but—
Remembering everything was impossible.
Sure, my current situation was troublesome.
Actually, far more than troublesome.
But if I hadn’t known Yeo Ilye’s enlightenment phrase back then, I’d have died cold in that alley.
In the end, the only reason I’d managed to survive until now was thanks to the information accumulated in my head while playing Murim Cheonha.
Looking at the title page I’d scribbled half-drunk on late-night emotions one dawn—
[Hocheon Secret Records]
—I honestly felt overwhelming secondhand embarrassment.
Still, in the end, these setting books truly were irreplaceable assets belonging only to me.
“I seriously need to figure out where to store these.”
Leaving them inside this room didn’t feel reliable at all.
I was merely second-rate.
If true masters infiltrated my room, I wouldn’t even notice.
And the room’s security itself wasn’t anything special either.
Keeping them here would be the worst possible choice.
Theoretically, the safest method would be using the debt-token and asking Yeo Ilye to store them for me—
…but realistically speaking, that probably wouldn’t end well.
There were businesses that stored valuables, sure.
But none of them could be trusted.
Even the most famous vault houses occasionally “lost” stored items.
Officially, they claimed theft.
But who really knew the truth?
Before treasures whose value couldn’t even be measured, trust and honor were merely resources people sold away.
“So in the end… there’s only one option left.”
I tied the setting books against my arms and legs beneath my clothes while tucking the thick enlightenment volume against my stomach.
Then I wrapped my body in a heavy outer robe completely unsuited for the season and weather.
The wanderers inside the inn would probably look at me suspiciously—
But honestly, my reputation within the Wanderers’ Inn had already become so bizarre that acting suspiciously now might actually help suppress the rumors.
“Brother Ho!”
“Immortal Ho!”
What the hell is “Immortal Ho”?
Anyway, I brushed aside all the wanderers trying to talk to me and stepped outside the inn.
“That bastard’s running away!”
“Catch him!”
These lunatics were insane.
What exactly did I do to deserve hearing nonsense about “running away” and “catch him”?
Of course—
I immediately started running.
When I glanced behind me, over a dozen wanderers burst from the inn chasing after me.
The instant I exited the Wanderers’ Inn, I cut sharply into an alley and first shoved my black bamboo hat into my robe.
Having mastered every martial art available to a second-rate warrior, I quickly used disguise techniques and slipped into the crowd.
Once I removed the black hat and blended among the people, the pursuing wanderers looked around the crowd in confusion—
But they naturally failed to find me already hidden among the masses.
I sighed while touching the strategy books hidden beneath my robe.
I need to finish this quickly and get back.
“So where’d you go? Spit it out honestly!”
“What are you, my mother? Why do you care where I went!?”
“Then why’d you run like that? Doesn’t that mean you’re hiding something?”
“What are you, my father? What if I am hiding something!?”
Using my invincible Rainbow Reflection Technique, I peeled the clingy wanderers off me and approached Yu Sayeon.
Normally, Yu Sayeon only sat on the first floor whenever she personally felt like it.
But lately the Wanderers’ Inn had become so chaotic she’d guarded the place herself for several days straight.
I held out a pouch containing lodging fees—the excuse I’d prepared for going outside.
“Another advance payment?”
“Two weeks’ worth! I went to collect the request fee receipt after losing all my money at the gambling house, and these idiots started causing a huge damn scene!”
I glared fiercely while shouting at the wanderers still following suspiciously behind me.
Only then did they cough awkwardly and scatter away.
Sichuan wanderers used anonymity even with vault houses.
Because of that, the only thing proving someone’s identity was the signature seal used when signing contracts with the vault.
If that seal got exposed, someone else could completely drain all the money stored there.
That was the excuse I’d prepared while secretly hiding my setting books.
“Hmmm… let’s see… right now you still have fifteen days of prepaid lodging remaining, Ho Cheonan. And you’re paying more in advance again?”
Had that much already piled up?
Well, people in this era hated spending money from their own pockets more than anything.
Honestly, I never understood it.
They weren’t even investing the money.
So why obsess over clutching it forever?
People delayed lodging payments constantly even while carrying money.
Since there were basically no investment opportunities anyway, receiving prepaid discounts was practically the same as earning money.
Honestly, I might be the only wanderer here who actually used advance-payment discounts.
But then Yu Sayeon suddenly refused to take the money.
“Do me one favor.”
“Depends what it is. If I don’t like it, forget it.”
“Huh. Hearing conditions from you first really hurts my feelings.”
This money-devil refusing actual money just to ask a favor smelled incredibly suspicious.
Yu Sayeon and I existed in a completely vertical power relationship.
She was a master.
And she was the owner of the Wanderers’ Inn—the only place wanderers could stay in all of Sichuan Province.
Meanwhile, I was second-rate trash.
If she told me to pack my things and leave, I’d simply have to disappear like a candle being snuffed out.
So why was someone like her carefully watching my reactions while asking favors?
Just imagining what she might be planning already scared me.
“Wouldn’t you consider taking another battle partner trainee?”
Battle partner.
A word capable of spreading military trauma instantly.
Sichuan wanderers handled things completely differently from ordinary wanderers in other regions.
Actually, before even discussing work, simply surviving as a Sichuan wanderer was something ordinary wanderers couldn’t endure.
Partly to monitor newcomers and prevent them from causing trouble—
And partly to help them adapt—
Whenever a new wanderer arrived, an experienced senior was assigned as their battle partner to guide them through Sichuan life.
“I already completed battle partner duty twice.”
“Aww come on~ Every task only truly ends once it’s properly finished, right? Haven’t you been a wandering warrior long enough to know that, Ho?”
I stared silently at Yu Sayeon for a moment.
What exactly do you want from me?
Completely ignoring my thoughts, Yu Sayeon waved her hands dramatically.
“One quit being a wanderer, and the other disappeared one day. Strictly speaking, that means you’ve never properly produced a finished battle partner. Still, considering you already trained two people, I’m even lowering myself to ask politely here, yet you reject me outright and make me very uncomfor—”
“Gwan Myeong. You know, that bastard who used to be my trainee. Apparently some bastard—no, some bitch—quietly recommended him to a sect. I thought he looked promising, but I guess he really had talent?”
Yu Sayeon immediately shut her mouth.
“And that other trainee of mine, Gu Seonjae? Turns out he was actually a runaway disciple from some famous orthodox sect in Chang’an. I wonder which bastard—no, which bitch—knew the identity of a black-hatted wanderer and sold that information to his sect?”
Yu Sayeon avoided my gaze.
She knew it too.
I wasn’t merely throwing accusations randomly.
I’d already investigated and confirmed who did it.
I’d spent seven years as a Sichuan wanderer already.
I knew Yu Sayeon.
And Yu Sayeon knew me.
“Whoever it was, I worked hard raising those two as proper Sichuan wanderers. But someone really stabbed me in the back good. Whoever sold them off must’ve made quite a fortune.”