Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Second-Rate Warrior Hocheonan -1
How are gaming fossils born?
After watching the members of this Murim Cheonha group chat remain rotting in the same game for ten years, I’d managed to arrive at my own answer to that question.
Usually, the process of becoming a fossil obsessed with one game happens because that game contains something absolutely irreplaceable by any other game.
And eighty percent of the members in the [Murim Cheonha Group Chat] were exactly those kinds of people.
Plays impossible to realize anywhere except in this game called Murim Cheonha.
In Samru Warrior’s case, he enjoyed gigolo-style gameplay, while Soyo Gangho preferred playing as an innkeeper.
Since [Murim Cheonha] was the only martial arts game with real freedom, where else could someone become a gigolo inside a murim world or run an inn in martial arts society?
That’s why they couldn’t leave Murim Cheonha behind and instead lingered like ghosts.
As for me—
I liked training.
Especially the martial arts genre where the person themselves gradually became stronger.
Fantasy-style “training” leaned more toward adventure than actual cultivation.
I loved the process itself—slowly comprehending martial arts principles one by one and steadily improving.
Nowadays, if you wrote web novels according to my tastes, you’d probably only get comments like:
[There’s still a protagonist training these days? Kukuruppingpong.]
[The pacing’s too slow, I’m dropping this. Author, go work unloading cargo.]
[I’ll hold my breath until the satisfying payoff arrives. Hup! Huh? Already choked to death from sweet potatoes?]
So instead, I just rolled characters around in [Murim Cheonha].
That was the fundamental reason I kept playing Murim Cheonha for ten whole years.
The only place left where I could experience the narrative of martial arts training I loved was this game.
I desired the process, not the result, so the character sheets of the characters I played were usually absolute disasters.
Traits that ordinary gamers would recoil from in horror, I welcomed with a smile.
Because the more hardships there were, the longer the training process became and the sweeter the final result felt.
And I still cleared every ending even with those characters, so how hard could things really be?
Hell, I was such a veteran that I’d memorized every single character’s Enlightenment keywords.
So what was the big deal about getting dropped into the game world itself?
That’s why when I became fifteen-year-old Hocheonan and got sucked into the world of Murim Cheonha, a part of me honestly felt confident.
At least until I opened the status window.
Name: Ho Cheonan
Age: 15
Realm: Below Third-Rate
Personality: Average
Strength: 4 Agility: 5
Vitality: 5 Internal Energy: 5
Luck: 5 Endurance: 5
Physique: 3 Spirituality: 5
Focus: 6 Virility: 5
Comprehension: 5
Traits:
[Wanderer] - You are welcomed nowhere. (Relationship with others -5)
[Severed Tendon] - The tendon in your left pinky has been severed. (Strength -1)
[Malnourished Body] - Poor nutrition during childhood stunted your growth. (Physique -2)
[Grit] - Injury effects are reduced, and survival probability rises at death’s door.
[Stubborn Bastard] - Regardless of physical condition, your mental fortitude is exceptional. (Focus +1)
[Mixed Blood] - Your origins are lowly. Heaven itself guarantees it. (Final Realm -?)
Final Realm: Second-Rate
Enlightenment: None
Ho Cheonan was not a player character.
Second-Rate Warrior.
That was the limit of me, Ho Cheonan.
And after falling into the world of Murim Cheonha for eight years—
I was still second-rate.
“It’s a job delivering a challenge letter to Gwangyang Sect.”
“I’ll do it.”
I accepted the letter from the broker and tucked it into my chest.
If this were the game, a message probably would’ve appeared like this:
[Accepted mission: Deliver the duel challenge to Gwangyang Sect.]
[Mission Difficulty: Low]
[Danger Level: Mid-Low]
[Deliver the duel challenge to Gwangyang Sect and safely return to report.]
[Time Limit: 3 days]
Gwangyang Sect wasn’t even far away.
It was only about an hour’s walk at most.
So naturally, someone might wonder:
What kind of nonsense is this? How is delivering a letter “mid-low danger”? Even a five-year-old kid could run an errand like this.
But in Sichuan Province, delivering a duel challenge was work that risked your life.
First, before arriving at Gwangyang Sect, there were two places I had to stop by.
The first was buying a bag of yeot from a candy seller.
The second was meeting the children playing in the alleyways.
As I wandered the alleys sucking on a piece of yeot, it didn’t take long before I found a bunch of kids playing heroes and villains.
“Kids.”
“Ah! It’s the Selling Sword Bastard!”
“It’s the filthy, despicable, sneaky, cowardly, creepy Selling Sword Bastard!”
“It’s the third-rate warrior Selling Sword Bastard!”
After spending seven years making enemies in Sichuan already, random insults from children barely hurt anymore.
Smiling calmly, I opened the bag and showed them the broken pieces of yeot inside.
The kids instantly swarmed toward me.
One little brat with sticky fingers tried charging from behind to snatch the bag, but not a chance.
I casually lifted the bag higher and spoke.
“If you follow me for just one dakyung, I’ll give you all this yeot. What do you say?”
“My mom says Selling Sword Bastards are worse than animals and never keep promises!”
“My dad’s a warrior from Nakyeong Sect! Hand over the yeot before I call him!”
“If he’s just some weakling Selling Sword Bastard, maybe we can beat him if we all jump him together! Should we attack?”
“So do you want the yeot or not? Once adults show up, do you think they’ll let you eat candy from a Selling Sword Bastard? Just follow behind me and I’ll give it to you.”
The children hesitated uncertainly before eventually nodding.
The temptation of yeot had won.
Adults often believed children were foolish and lacked judgment, but kids still thought, experienced things, and learned from them.
No matter how much adults cursed wandering warriors as “Selling Sword Bastards,” calling them filthy, dangerous, and lowly, the children probably had never actually experienced wandering warriors like that.
Honestly, compared to ordinary civilians who constantly hit and screamed at children, wanderers might’ve even felt safer.
Because Sichuan wanderers never harmed children.
Anyway, like the Pied Piper, I led the crowd of children toward Gwangyang Sect.
The moment I approached the sect gates, the gatekeepers immediately drew their weapons and pointed them at me.
Who were the enemies of gatekeepers guarding Sichuan Province?
People like me.
Wandering warriors.
“Do not approach, Selling Sword Bastard!”
“The great Gwangyang Sect is not a place a filthy wanderer like you can step into!”
I adjusted the black bamboo hat marking me as a wandering warrior of Sichuan Murim, then pulled the letter from my chest.
The moment the letter appeared, the two martial artists moved to charge me—
But stopped after noticing my glance behind me.
They’d finally noticed the dozens of children watching the entire scene with bright sparkling eyes.
And the suspicious gazes from some adults staring at the strange sight of children following a wanderer.
As a righteous sect, Gwangyang Sect couldn’t just gang up 2v1 on a wanderer without proper duel procedures.
Well… unless nobody was watching.
After all, in Sichuan Murim, if there were no witnesses or evidence, the wanderer was automatically considered guilty.
Subdue him first, invent excuses later.
That’s why I brought the children.
And as a bonus, I attracted the attention of adults already suspicious about a wanderer leading kids around.
In front of such gazes, sect martial artists couldn’t swing their swords carelessly.
I filled my lungs and loudly unfolded the letter.
“Hear this, Gwangyang Sect! The wandering warrior Gong Yeongho-gwon Yeong Ji Huyeol has long admired the righteous spirit of Gwangyang Sect! Though born lowly, he burns with desire to learn a move from Gwangyang Sect! Especially hearing that the fame of Cheon Sogyeol shakes all Sichuan Murim! Thus he wishes to exchange fist and sword with Cheon Sogyeol! Choosing the auspicious day of the tenth, he seeks discussion of martial arts!”
The rest contained endless provocative nonsense, but the core message was simple:
A wanderer named Yeong Ji Huyeol challenged Gwangyang Sect’s Cheon Sogyeol to a duel.
I folded the challenge letter and shoved it into the chest of the gatekeeper whose face was twisting horribly, then dusted him off lightly.
Gwangyang Sect was probably in chaos already.
Their sect now stood at a crossroads of survival, meaning until the duel date they’d probably hold endless emergency meetings day and night.
And these two gatekeepers?
They’d likely suffer an endless festival of abuse simply for receiving a wanderer’s duel challenge.
Maybe imagining that tragic future, the two gatekeepers trembled as if they wanted to devour me alive right there.
But what could they do?
If they wanted to cut people down whenever they pleased, they should’ve joined the unorthodox factions instead.
Of course, considering there wasn’t a single unorthodox sect left anywhere in Sichuan Murim, maybe they never had that option.
Either way, not my problem.
The only thing that mattered to me now was escaping alive.
“Eat yeot, you little brats!”
“Waaaaah!!”
“Wait, why does it feel like we just got insulted?”
“Hey hey, you kids did well. Good work, now hurry and eat your candy.”
I handed the children pieces of yeot one by one from the bag while quickly moving my feet farther away from Gwangyang Sect.
The moment we turned a corner, I shoved the rest of the candy bag into their hands and immediately started running.
Using every scrap of internal energy I had, I sprinted through alleyways before slipping into a backstreet.
“Huff…”
What was the best way to nullify a duel challenge?
Simple.
Make it as though it never existed.
Which meant if they eliminated me—the messenger who delivered the challenge—they could simply deny everything and say:
“Duel challenge? We never received such a thing.”
Sure, I’d secured insurance by using the children as witnesses, but if Gwangyang Sect truly hardened their hearts, covering up something like that wouldn’t be difficult.
So I had to protect myself.
After all, as someone only second-rate, even running into a single first-rate martial artist on the street could become a life-or-death struggle.
Maybe thanks to following the escape routes I’d prepared beforehand while wandering Sichuan all these years, nobody seemed to be chasing me.
Feeling slightly relieved, I rose from behind the boxes I’d been crouching beside in the alley—
Then—
“Wondered who was fleeing so desperately. So it’s someone wearing a black hat.”
A voice spoke from behind me.