Boy, Draw the Comic
The city where Sanwol had settled was called Wuhan.
As the provincial capital of Hubei through which the great Yangtze River flowed, Wuhan was an immense metropolis teeming with people. For that reason, it was exceedingly rare for a single disturbance to shake the entire city. Where people gather in droves, incidents and accidents naturally follow; it was scarcely an exaggeration to say that not a single day passed without some manner of uproar. Perhaps because of this, the residents of Wuhan were not the sort to be tossed about by petty gossip or fleeting squabbles.
Yet right now, that very city had been plunged into a boiling cauldron of chaos. Men and women, young and old, had been swept into a frenzy over an unprecedented novelty they had never encountered in their lives: the comic book.
“Is there truly no next volume of Nangahyeopjeon?!”
“How can a mere book swallow a man’s soul like this? This is nothing short of a masterpiece forged from peerless cultivation!”
“Stop spouting grand words and pass it over! Can’t you see the line of people waiting behind you?!”
The popularity of Nangahyeopjeon—Sanwol’s debut work and the very first manhwa in the history of the Central Plains—was soaring so high it threatened to pierce the heavens.
Because the protagonist was a young wandering rogue, he was named Nang-ah, the Wolf-cub. And because it unraveled the tale of his chivalric journey, it was titled Hyeopjeon, the Chronicle of Chivalry.
It was the story of an innocent boy who championed justice, confronting the deep-seated hypocrisies of the world and standing tall against overwhelming might. Befitting his status as a masterless rogue, he possessed no powerful backing; through sheer blood and sweat, he honed his strength, forged bonds of camaraderie through righteousness, and ultimately struck down the villains barring his path. Even if published as a conventional novel, such a bold, electrifying tale would have lingered on people’s tongues for decades.
Yet what truly stunned the public was not the plot of Nangahyeopjeon.
“It feels as though I myself have stepped into the story!”
“To witness these events unfold before one’s very eyes, as if living through them... Just what kind of person could the author of this book be?!”
Nangahyeopjeon was not a novel. It was a comic book.
It was a work that even those who considered reading a dreadful chore—those who had never spared a passing glance for bookstores or scholarly texts—could enjoy without the slightest burden. Moreover, the art style bore no resemblance whatsoever to the traditional painters of the Central Plains. The limbs and torsos were elongated with crisp, dynamic lines, while the facial features were exaggerated. Yet far from being repulsive, this bold stylization conveyed the characters’ raw emotions with striking clarity, delivering a refreshingly vivid impact that bordered on the miraculous.
“To think human expression could be captured with such vivid diversity!”
“Look at this face here! Can anyone doubt this is Nang-ah burning with righteous indignation against injustice?”
“A towering giant of our era has undoubtedly walked among us!”
Every soul who laid eyes on it was utterly captivated by the intricate, striking character designs and the bold, sweeping compositions. It was the natural result of introducing Western artistic techniques previously unknown in the Central Plains, combined with dynamic visual pacing developed and refined by generations of modern comic creators over decades.
Unfortunately, the bliss of Nangahyeopjeon’s devoted readers did not last long.
“What do you mean there’s no next volume?!”
“Hey! What kind of nonsense are you babbling?!”
“The first volume is all there is?! Anyone with eyes can see the story ended right where volume two is supposed to begin!”
The issue was simple: Sanwol had released only the premiere volume before immediately taking off for Anhui Province alongside an escort bureau. While he had a perfectly sensible reason—namely, a dire shortage of living expenses—such excuses meant nothing to ravenous readers. Readers, by nature, were creatures who would happily lock an author in a room and devise wicked schemes just to wring out the next chapter.
Yet Sanwol had not even penned an alias, leaving them no trail to follow. Consequently, the entire city of Wuhan had whipped itself into a bloodhound frenzy, scouring every street and alley in search of the elusive master behind Nangahyeopjeon.
“Yaaawn...”
Two full months had already slipped by since Sanwol set off on his escort mission to Anhui Province. Blissfully unaware of how Wuhan had been turned upside down, he yawned comfortably, rubbed his eyes, and pushed himself upright.
“What is it now? Bandits again?”
“Boss, we told you we could handle small fry like this ourselves!”
“Drop it. Last time you said that, one of you took a blade to the ribs and ended up bedridden.”
Sliding lazily off the roof of the lead carriage with an air of complete lethargy, Sanwol rested his palm against his sword hilt. At that sight, three escort warriors quietly stepped behind him. It was not that they feared petty bandits; rather, they knew lingering near the front would only get in Sanwol’s way.
Standing alone before the carriage to confront sixteen armed bandits, Sanwol spoke flatly.
“Out of the way. This is your first and final warning.”
The Central Plains was a land of countless mountains. And wherever mountains stood in abundance, bandits naturally flourished. Encountering thieves on mountain passes was almost a certainty, which spoke volumes about how abysmal public safety truly was.
Bandits were, quite literally, highway robbers nesting in the peaks. They blocked thoroughfares, demanded extortionate tolls, and slaughtered wayfarers on a whim. Yet because they swarmed thicker than gnats infesting a damp cellar, one could hardly cut down every single brigand encountered along the road.
To be precise, Sanwol could have killed them. But having not entirely stripped away the sensibilities of a modern human, the thought of casual mass slaughter sat poorly with him. Some might have considered such an attitude hopelessly naive, but perspective naturally shifted depending on who held the power. If a Third-rate martial artist claimed to show mercy to a Peak Realm master, it would be laughed off as an empty boast or sheer madness. But when a Peak Realm master offered mercy to Third-rate scoundrels, everyone recognized it for what it truly was: genuine benevolence.
“A warning? That’s our line, boy!”
“That’s right! We’re the ones giving you a first and final warning! Hand over the carriage quietly, and we might let you keep your lives and the clothes on your backs!”
Of course, Sanwol had never announced himself as a Peak Realm master. From the bandits’ perspective, some half-asleep youth had simply climbed down from the roof and told them to pack up and go home.
Naturally, their ignorance did nothing to bridge the chasm in skill. The sixteen bandits—at best Second-rate, with most barely scraping the baseline of Third-rate—brandished their weapons with sneers.
“Haaah. Can’t you people just back down quietly for once in your lives?”
Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Sanwol drew his sword.
A radiant, golden haze shimmered to life along the steel, wavering like heat over summer stone. It was an art whose faint wisps only began to manifest in the First-rate realm, achieving true perfection only upon ascending to the Peak Realm: Sword Qi.
The golden brilliance enveloped the blade entirely, turning toward the bandits to declare its flawless completion.
“S-Sword Qi?!”
“Insane! Why the hell is a Peak Realm master working as a damn escort warrior?!”
“P-Please pass through! Forgive our blind eyes for failing to recognize an esteemed grandmaster...!”
The bandits, who had blocked the path with arrogant confidence simply because they possessed basic martial arts and numbers, paled in terror the moment they glimpsed the golden sheen coating the blade.
Is a Peak Realm master not allowed to work for an escort bureau? Sanwol mused grumpily. Once you hit this level, there’s no easier way to rake in good money.
Sanwol glared at them in silence. The bandits flinched, instinctively shuffling backward. With their will to fight thoroughly shattered, there was no longer any need to spill blood or expend energy. Having completed his mental calculation, Sanwol raised his sword and pointed the tip directly at them. The bandits’ shoulders twitched in an erratic, terrified shudder, their eyes darting wildly like earth rumbling before a tremor.
Right, if a single flash of Sword Qi makes you soil yourselves, why bother turning to highway robbery in the first place?
“I believe I told you to move?”
“Y-Yes, sir! Right away!”
“What are you fools doing?! Clear the road for the master!”
Sanwol shot them a subtle glance, hinting that if they yielded the path now, he would let them keep their lives. At once, the two men standing at the forefront barked desperate orders to the rest of the gang. It was obvious these two were the leaders, or at least the ones holding actual authority among the band.
Hmm. If I eliminate the heads, the rest will probably scatter on their own.
Even among elite clan retinues and disciplined imperial garrisons, cutting down the commanding officer inevitably threw the rank-and-file into disarray. If even structured soldiers fractured under such conditions, common mountain bandits certainly possessed neither the loyalty nor the resolve to elect a new chieftain on the spot and resume their plundering.
Should he kill only the two ringleaders, or turn a blind eye and let them all scurry away?
To Sanwol, it felt remarkably like the classic trolley problem. If he let them leave untouched, future travelers along this pass might be robbed blind or butchered. Conversely, breaking their backbone by eliminating the ringleaders right now would prevent countless innocents from suffering the same fate.
Sanwol’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Yeah. No matter how I slice it, the second option is the right call.
Neither outcome had any direct bearing on his personal life, but human conscience and the lingering aftertaste of neglect were different matters entirely. Besides, the practiced ease with which these men had barricaded the trail and boldly demanded plunder proved they were seasoned veterans at this trade.
“Heheh, please, go right ahead!”
“If you ever travel this way again, just send word in advance, and we’ll have the entire road swept clean for you!”
As the path opened wide, the escort horses trotted forward, followed by the steady rattle of wooden carriage wheels. Flanking the roadside, the bandits stood drenched in cold sweat, with the two chieftains bowing repeatedly, their spines curved in obsequious flattery. Watching their sniveling display, a dry smirk touched Sanwol’s lips as he turned his head.
“Send word, you say? Sure. That sounds fine.”
“R-Right? Then, esteemed master—!”
Thinking they had managed to strike up a favorable rapport, the two leaders snapped their heads up, faces brightening with desperate relief.
“Dodge.”
“Eh?”
“What did you—?”
One looked thoroughly bewildered, the other entirely uncomprehending.
Shhhk.
A single line of golden light traced through the air, and in an imperceptible instant, two heads tumbled into the dirt. It happened so fast that the severed heads rolled along the road with their confused expressions still frozen in place.
The remaining fourteen bandits stood paralyzed for a heartbeat before erupting into shrill screams. Some broke into a frantic sprint; some froze rooted to the spot, pupils trembling wildly; others collapsed onto their backs, shaking uncontrollably. Looking down at the pathetic spectacle with icy eyes, Sanwol spoke in a low murmur.
“Since you refused to move the moment you were warned, I took only your leaders. And as you requested, I gave you advance notice before drawing my blade, so you can hardly claim to have been wronged.”
Consider this another warning: if you value your lives, abandon this life of thievery and earn an honest living.
Leaving them with that implicit message backed by the lingering aura of his Sword Qi, Sanwol turned back toward the convoy. Whether bandits of their ilk would ever heed such advice remained doubtful, but a brutal lesson was far better than empty preaching, and a demonstration this sharp might actually stick.
“Man, Boss. A Peak Realm master really does carry a whole different presence.”
“Just like he said! If not for the Boss, we would’ve had to trade blood with that lot again.”
Sanwol’s fellow escort warriors chuckled among themselves as they flanked the carriages. Sanwol, however, looked back with a deeply disgruntled scowl.
“Boss, my foot. The real Escort Leader is riding right back there, so why do you keep calling me Boss?”
“Because you’re the Boss, not the Escort Leader. Completely different title! Can’t you read the difference?”
“It means the exact same damn thing!”
“Where in our entire bureau is there anyone greater than a Peak Realm master who can pull out Sword Qi at will? In the escort business, the strongest fist is always the Boss.”
Though it sounded like banter aimed at poking fun at their nominal superior, it was the plain truth. The official Escort Leader, who was merely a First-rate warrior, had nearly resigned his post the moment Sanwol broke through to the Peak Realm. The sole reason the man still held the title was because Sanwol had adamantly refused the promotion.
Taking a higher rank meant shouldering annoying paperwork and administrative headaches. Far better to lounge lazily on the carriage roof, climb down only when trouble showed up, flash a bit of Sword Qi, and call it a day. With no desire to take on extra labor for vanity’s sake, preserving his sweet, low-effort post had simply been Sanwol’s brand of rational self-interest.
“Pah. Why do I even bother talking to you lot?”
Regardless of their banter, the carriages rolled steadily forward. Step by relentless step, they journeyed back toward Wuhan in Hubei Province, where their trek had begun.
Three days after dealing with the mountain bandits, they finally passed through the city gates—only to be greeted by a scene of utter madness.
“Aaargh! Why in the world did the author of Nangahyeopjeon draw the first volume and leave us hanging?!”
“Heavens above, answer meee!”
“Waaaaahhh!”
In the span of a mere two months, Wuhan had lost its collective mind—and that very uproar now stood waiting to swallow Sanwol whole.