Servant Cheon Museong
Did that old man eat something rotten? Why is he suddenly like this?
Jin-soo watched, baffled, as Cheon Museong swayed through a sword dance, light on his feet.
"Jin-soo, that old man seems really strange."
Shin Sua regarded Cheon Museong with open distaste. She had thought him odd from the moment he appeared out of nowhere and demanded a spar, and watching him shut his eyes mid-duel and start dancing only made him look stranger still.
"Yeah. Weird is the right word."
Jin-soo was genuinely thrown.
Even before the regression, Cheon Museong had often done bizarre things in the name of enlightenment. Once, declaring that he needed wall-facing meditation, he had stared at a restaurant wall from the middle of the road and held out for a week. Another time, insisting he required a view of the world turned upside down, he had spent more than a month on his hands—eating, sleeping, and hunting monsters in a handstand.
There was also the time he sat in full lotus in the middle of the communal toilets for over ten days, calling it mental cultivation.
But never once, in the middle of a spar where a single mistake could cost him his head, had he closed his eyes and danced with his sword.
If his opponent had meant him harm, he could have lost his neck and had no one to blame for a stunt like that.
It was a mercy beyond measure that the man across from him was Jin-soo.
"Don't worry about the old man. Let's just keep hunting."
"You sure that's all right? He doesn't look like he's in his right mind."
Shin Sua stole another glance at Cheon Museong as she said it.
"It's fine. No need to fuss over him."
By then the sword-dancing Cheon Museong was venting pure white martial energy in streaming threads. The waves of mana and force rolling out in every direction were so ferocious that anyone short of a powerhouse on Jin-soo's or Cheon Museong's level could not even approach.
Monsters of the sort that prowled near the 200th Floor Starting City would be ground apart the moment they drew near a Cheon Museong lost in his sword dance.
"Well... if you say so, it does seem fine to just leave him be."
One look at the tide of martial energy wrapped around his body, and Shin Sua conceded the point.
But did the old man actually attain enlightenment?
Jin-soo had watched Cheon Museong's nonsense countless times before the regression, yet he had never once seen the man truly break through.
Hunting first.
Cheon Museong's sudden appearance had kept them from filling the day's quota.
"Leo."
"Nyaaaaaang!"
At Jin-soo's call, Leo unleashed a vigorous wide-area taunt roar.
The ground thundered. From every side the monsters came pouring in, howling and shrieking.
Flame Barrier
Flame Explosion
Flame Storm
Fire roared up and detonated in a booming blast as Jin-soo loosed his offensive magic and the drive-hunt began in earnest.
"Grrrrrnnn!"
A few monsters, knowing no better, lumbered toward Cheon Museong in the midst of the hunt.
A wet slice. A tearing rip. Caught in the surge of martial energy, they died where they stood.
Knew we didn't need to worry.
Jin-soo went on with the hunt, face calm. Time kept passing, until the day had sunk toward dusk.
Cheon Museong was still dancing with both eyes shut.
Puzzlement rose on Jin-soo's face.
How long does he plan to keep this up? Does he even have mana and stamina left?
Memory stirred of the days before the regression, when Cheon Museong went off on one of his follies and the guild took turns standing watch—the Eight Mad Dogs among them—just in case something went wrong. Most of them had received some favor from him, great or small, and none could bring themselves to abandon him in the street or a toilet.
Surely I'm not the one who has to stand guard until this nonsense is over?
Leaving him behind didn't sit right either.
In the Tower, some calamity could strike without warning. For all he knew, an Out-of-Spec Monster might appear out of nowhere and attack Cheon Museong.
I can just have the summons hunt nearby.
Then Jin-soo wouldn't have to suffer for it.
"Jin-soo, how long are we supposed to wait?"
"Let's give it another hour. If he's still like that, we head back to the city on our own."
"Let's. I don't think the old man will be in any danger even if we just go."
They agreed to wait one more hour and returned to the hunt.
Then, without warning, a violent storm of mana burst from Cheon Museong's body.
What?
Jin-soo stared. The old man who had been dancing with his eyes closed went still and stood quiet inside the storm.
The raging mana was sucked back into his body in an instant.
Light flared. The moment Cheon Museong opened his eyes, a brilliant halo poured forth.
Did he actually attain enlightenment?
Jin-soo tilted his head, watching him.
Cheon Museong, eyes open, looked back.
"I have lost."
The first thing he did was admit his defeat.
"I am Cheon Museong. I owe you a great debt. You have my sincere thanks."
He bent at the waist, a full ninety degrees, and offered Jin-soo a respectful bow.
Why is the old man acting like this?
Bewilderment washed over Jin-soo's face. For all his stubborn elder's pride, Cheon Museong had never shown him such courtesy before the regression.
"Have you truly attained enlightenment?"
At the question, Cheon Museong nodded.
"The System itself has acknowledged it. Thanks to you, the level of the martial arts I have cultivated has risen greatly."
Jin-soo's mouth fell open.
Training could raise a skill's level, though far more slowly than hunting. For most people, though, it only improved proficiency—the ease with which a skill could be used—and stopped there. The higher that level climbed, the closer it came to impossible to raise it through simple training rather than the hunt.
There was a reason the Cheon Museong of before the regression had never once attained enlightenment.
I've heard of a few Players whose skill levels jumped after a breakthrough. I've never seen it with my own eyes until now.
"It is all thanks to you. From this day forward, I shall treat you as my benefactor."
Cheon Museong said it with a kindly smile.
"There is no need for that."
Jin-soo answered with a gentle smile of his own.
"Refuse all you like. I will still think of you as my benefactor and treat you as such—know that. Should you want anything of me, or have any request, speak it freely. I am weaker than you, yet I possess skills of some worth, and I shall do my utmost to aid you, my benefactor."
Warmth practically radiated off him as he looked at Jin-soo with an expression that begged to be asked for something—anything. But Jin-soo knew Cheon Museong better than anyone alive.
"What need is there to ask a favor? With a servant, one simply gives an order."
The moment Jin-soo said it, smiling brightly, the kindly smile on Cheon Museong's face hardened to stone.
"Ahem. Your memory is sharp. To keep a trifle like that lodged in your head."
"If you mean to say one thing with your mouth and another with your heart, there is nothing I can do. It was not even a written contract—only a promise spoken aloud. If you would rather pretend it never happened, you are free to do so."
At those words, a crack ran across the face that had gone hard as stone. Cheon Museong's pupils shook; he sank into violent confusion. Then, as if he had reached a conclusion, he forced his expression smooth and opened his mouth.
The title he used for Jin-soo changed from benefactor to Lord. Afterward he dipped his head toward Jin-soo—slightly. Very slightly. Jin-soo smiled with satisfaction, as if he had expected nothing else.
This old man has a contrary streak a mile wide.
If Jin-soo had pressed him to keep the promise, he would have thrashed about looking for any way out.
Not that escaping would have been easy.
Cheon Museong valued face, and he was not a man who said one thing and meant another to begin with.
Still, the odds were high he would keep sulking and grumbling.
Give him the choice, though, and he could hardly complain about a decision he had made himself.
And becoming my servant is hardly some terrible loss from his point of view.
Jin-soo had no intention of working him like a real servant, and even if he tried, Cheon Museong was not the sort to obey without a fight.
Above all, the old man needed to stay at Jin-soo's side one way or another—whether the pretext was repaying a debt of gratitude, or becoming a servant as the price of losing the spar.
Jin-soo had shown him the Formless Sword Art: the ideal toward which the Peerless Sword Art he was cultivating ought to advance.
Given Cheon Museong's nature, even with no debt to repay and no wager that made him a servant, he would have latched on with any excuse he could invent, just to receive Jin-soo's instruction.
And I've nothing to lose by traveling with the old man.
He had met Cheon Museong far earlier than before the regression. That meant an enormous stretch of time in which Jin-soo could make him strong.
This time, Elder, I won't let you go so easily.
Not like before the regression, when Cheon Museong had died ahead of him.
He would forge the old man until they could keep climbing the Tower together.
"I will be in your care from now on, Elder Cheon."
"Hrrngh. And I in yours. My... My Lord."
Cheon Museong answered with a sour look, as if he had no other choice. Being called Elder Cheon again felt like a return to the days before the regression, and the sensation was strangely off.
Hearing him call me Lord is a little strange, too.
Watching that displeased face was oddly satisfying, so Jin-soo decided to leave it be.
The party, grown from two to three, returned to the Starting City. The hour was late. They ate dinner and retired to their own lodgings.
I still need to finish sorting the items.
Jin-soo had yet to process everything gained after the clash with the Sahyeol Sect.
This one I won't sell as-is.
The spear the demon had used was a level 1,600 weapon. Listed on the auction house, it would bring no less than several billion points—a high-priced piece—but it was too good to sell outright.
A thing with a considerable store of karma on it.
Perhaps because a demon had wielded it, resentment and lingering grudges were caked thick upon the weapon. Meet the right owner, and it might fetch ten billion points or more.
The Demon Hunter advancement book... selling that doesn't sit right either.
It was a class-change tome worth tens of billions of points, but rare enough that he could not be sure of ever laying hands on another if he let it go.
No point learning it right now. I'll keep it in the inventory.
The Demon Hunter advancement book belonged to the holy line—a classic counter-class to demons. It was built of passive and active skills that dealt additional damage to demons, or reduced the damage taken from them.
I'm not fighting demons anytime soon.
With no cause to face them for the time being, the best course was to leave the book in his inventory and hope the class skills would be leveled by the time he had reason to use them.
The Demon's Essence—I'll hold on to this, too.
When Lucy came by, selling it together with the spear would bring more points than the auction house.
The synthesized items sold well. I should synthesize more and list them.
The pieces he had made with Item Synthesis moved decently enough.
Not a jackpot, but they bring in points, little by little.
Many a little makes a mickle. Buy two flawed items off the auction house, synthesize them to erase the flaws, and sell the result again, and the return against the investment was nothing to sneeze at. Subtract the cost of the materials, and all it consumed was Jin-soo's mana. Profitable enough in its own way.
Just don't let dead stock pile up.
There was a limit to how many sale windows one could register on the auction house, so whenever an item risked becoming dead inventory, he cut the margin and dumped it.
He was deep in Item Synthesis when a knock came at the door.
"Jin-soo, mind if I come in for a second?"
Shin Sua had come to his room.