Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Cave Escape
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Choi Si-woo muttered blankly.
"Crazy bastard... jumping off from here..."
Looking down at the ground below sent a dizzying wave of vertigo through him. True to its name, Myeongjang Valley plunged down into unfathomable depths.
'About halfway up...?'
Glancing up, he saw he still had several hundred meters to climb.
Whoooosh—!
A biting gale whipped fiercely around him.
Rustle.
Ting! Ting! Ting...
A pebble pushed by the wind tumbled endlessly into the abyss.
Falling from here would mean straight to his third life.
Choi Si-woo's eyes trembled slightly as he followed the pebble's path.
Slap— slap!
He slapped his cheeks to steel himself.
"Tch...! Let's push through with sheer grit."
Trusting his fortified body, he decided to climb purely on willpower. He'd escaped the cave easily enough—what was a cliff compared to that?
He lightened his body just a touch, wary of the wind sweeping him away if he went too far.
Driving his pickaxe into the cliff face, he advanced cautiously.
Climbing steadily, it didn't seem impossible. Thanks to his sturdy flesh enhanced by [Low-Grade Body Reinforcement].
'Easier than I thought.'
Crunch.
An ominous sound rang out.
"Wha... ugh!?"
Whoosh—!
The foothold he'd planted crumbled away from the cliff.
Before he could even jam in the pickaxe, freefall began, and a scream tore from his throat.
"Uwaaaah!"
Every hair on his body stood on end. In the face of death, his focus sharpened to its limit.
In an instant, he converted all his Mixed Origin Qi to suction grip using the Absorption Technique.
The qi that had lightened him now clung with adhesive force.
Scraaaape!
Dust flying, he slid down about five meters before halting.
His clothes shredded to rags in seconds, blood pouring from his scraped palms. But it had saved him—he was stuck fast to the wall like a magnet.
Over half his Mixed Origin Qi had vanished in that moment.
Cold sweat streamed down his face.
'Fuck... that was too close.'
Thump! Thump!
His heart pounded wildly.
Reflexively glancing down, dizziness hit him again. Dust from the fall drifted into the bottomless chasm below.
He closed his eyes, took deep breaths, and retrieved the pickaxe from his belt.
Hoo— hoo—
Consciously avoiding looking down, he climbed step by step.
Fortunately, it wasn't a smooth vertical wall. The rugged gorge had plenty of cracks and ledges for rests.
He'd set out under the blazing sun, but now it was setting.
Darkness would make it impossible.
"This is fucking exhausting... seriously..."
Choi Si-woo looked up at the cliff's top.
The end was near.
The sky grew closer.
Finally.
Thud—!
"Woooow!! Fuck yeeeah!"
Overwhelmed with relief, he rolled on the ground roaring. The earth atop the cliff felt so soft and welcoming.
Looking at his hands, they trembled uncontrollably.
'Fuck... I could never do that again.'
His brute-force climb had left every muscle quivering.
Shivering, he gathered branches and lit a campfire.
He needed to heal his weary body and mind.
He pulled a steaming hangover soup from his [Inventory].
[Inventory]
Sipping the warm broth greedily soothed his exhausted body and spirit.
Closing his eyes, he recalled the near-fall.
In that peak focus, he'd switched his Mixed Origin Qi's property in a flash.
Normally, it took ten minutes of meditation. But he'd altered all his qi instantly.
'Like... this?'
Recalling the sensation, he tried switching properties. It was definitely faster now—down to about three minutes. Each attempt shaved off more time, like a blockage clearing, growing ever more natural.
[Mixed Origin Qi Art]: 1,032(-3,968) Karma
A massive city gate loomed before Choi Si-woo.
"Whew... finally...!"
Even armed with modern camping gear, roughing it outdoors was uncomfortable. He'd held back on anything too conspicuous, which made it worse.
After wandering mountains and crossing rivers, he'd arrived at last.
Hunan Province.
Towering walls stretched skyward. The scale was ridiculously grand.
He couldn't help marveling at the enormous fortifications.
'And so it begins.'
Bustling crowds hurried about: touts hawking their wares, children laughing as they ran in packs, lively music drifting from somewhere.
It was a vibrant city.
As he gawked around, a kid about ten years old approached.
"Um... sir warrior, is this your first time in Hunan Province?"
"Yeah, why?"
The boy's face lit up a bit.
"Then could I show you around? Just give me ten iron coins, and I'll guide you all day."
Choi Si-woo rummaged through Mun Ji-hong's memories. Ten iron coins was pocket change.
'Like a grand, maybe.'
When Mun Ji-hong was flush, he'd snacked on candied fruit worth silver nyang.
After a moment's thought, he said,
"Sorry, kid. I'm broke right now. But... if you take me somewhere to sell these, I'll pay you. Deal?"
He dangled a goblin dagger.
The boy's disappointed look at "no money" brightened instantly.
"Sure! Follow me!"
Trailing the kid, he soaked in the streets.
The exotic sights felt like a trip abroad.
Clang! Clang!
They reached a smithy resounding with hammer strikes.
"Here it is!"
Inside, a burly, muscled giant emerged, wiping his hands on a rag.
"Welcome."
Choi Si-woo showed the goblin's worn dagger.
"How much for this?"
The smith's face soured instantly.
He pinched the dagger between thumb and forefinger, inspected it roughly, and grunted,
"Scrap iron. Fifty iron coins."
Tsking at the rudeness,
"You got no eye for quality. What about this?"
He offered the kitchen knife—a sleek 3,000-won blade from the convenience store.
The smith's eyes bulged at the flawless modern knife.
He stared, entranced by its purity.
"Hmm... this... ten silver nyang!"
Ten silver nyang—about a million won. Satisfied, he nodded.
"Come again!"
Handsome profit in pocket, his steps lightened as he asked the kid,
"Where's the best spot nearby for knife-cut noodles? And a good inn."
"I'll take you to an inn with great food."
Following the kid's lead, he arrived at the inn.
"Welcome!"
To the approaching waiter,
"Knife-cut noodles and a room."
"Yes sir! Noodles and stay—thirty-five iron coins a night."
"Single room?"
"Uh... fifty for a single."
He handed over silver, got change, scooped up a handful of iron coins, and gave them to the kid.
"That's enough guiding. Go rest."
"Ah...! Th-thank you!"
Sitting, he waited. Soon, steaming knife-cut noodles arrived.
No fancy toppings, but the aroma was inviting.
Eagerly sipping the broth first,
"Oh...!"
His eyes widened slightly. He slurped up a big mouthful of noodles.
Slurp—
His head nodded involuntarily. Salty just right, with solid umami.
'Real deal.'
Savoring another sip, someone approached and rapped the table.
Knock knock—!
"Heh heh— young hero! Mind if I join?"
An utterly ordinary guy, the kind you'd see anywhere—so bland it felt off.
He plopped down grinning.
"You sit first then ask? Funny guy."
"Haha... don't be so prickly. Anyway, you... you stink."
"What?"
Unthinkingly, he lifted his arm and sniffed.
'Ugh... yeah...'
Days without a proper wash had caught up.
The young man chuckled at the sight.
"Not that... ah, introductions first. Name's Bi Seong-ja."
Choi Si-woo nodded. The guy's bold friendliness piqued his interest.
"Choi Si-woo."
"Choi clan...? Just as I thought."
His face scrunched up.
'Choi clan here too?'
Bi Seong-ja waved it off.
"No misunderstanding—never heard of 'em. You're... a third-rate martial artist, right?"
"...You picking a fight?"
It was laughable coming from this nobody.
"Whoa! Calm down, young hero. Third-rate's no insult—everyone's third-rate when they first learn martial arts. How's that a diss?"
Gauging his reaction, the guy continued,
"Hmm... looks like you just arrived in Hunan... right?"
A nod, and Bi Seong-ja grinned wide.
"Knew my eyes didn't lie! So you don't know about the martial tournament coming up?"
"Huh?"
His ears perked at "martial tournament."
"One week from now, Hunan's holding a big one. Perfect for you!"
Bi Seong-ja stayed persistently friendly. Awkward to keep bantering informally, so he played along.
"Nah, pass. Like you said, I'm just third-rate. Tournament? No thanks."
"Whoa, don't quit yet. That's exactly why I'm recommending it. This one's capped at third-rate martial artists! Golden opportunity for you."
Absurd—he had to ask,
"Wait, what kinda retarded tournament limits entrants to third-rate?"
Bi Seong-ja wagged a finger, shaking his head like you don't even know that?
"Duh, 'cause scrubs brawling is the most fun. High-level pros zipping around too fast to see? Boring."
"Ah..."