What Walks on Two Legs
A wandering swordsman’s morning starts earlier than a regular guard’s.
No—earlier than early. It begins in the dead of night, when the starlight still glitters overhead.
All of it for the sake of cultivating the Starfall Heart Method and gathering the energy of the stars.
Rustle.
I sat up. The bedframe creaked, and the moth-eaten blanket slid off me. Cold wind leaked into the third-rate escort dormitory. Better than the regular guards’ quarters, sure, but still wretched compared to any modern bed.
For the record, Guildmistress Eun Hwaran had offered me nicer lodgings. I turned her down. I hated being in anyone’s debt.
Everything was for the smooth supply of internal energy and the dream of living a long, healthy life. I was already staying here free of charge. If I accepted a fancy room on top of that, some vague sense of obligation would take root. Then even if I helped her later, it wouldn’t feel like a good deed—it would feel like paying off a debt.
And then the merit wouldn’t accumulate properly, would it?
“Honestly, I’m too kind for my own good.”
If I’d been the shameless type who just smirked and took people’s goodwill for granted, life would’ve been a whole lot easier. Instead I chose to endure a little discomfort now for a better future later.
Snore—krrrrrk—
Leaving Yang Jo and Yang Wi snoring like a pair of freight trains, I stepped outside into the chill air and moonlight. Getting dressed and walking alone while everyone else slept almost felt like pulling the first watch of the night.
“Thinking of it that way, maybe I can tough it out.”
A clear night sky without a single speck of pollution. Sacred starlight pouring down, pure and transparent.
No sign of Hwang Geolgae on the training ground. Probably sprawled somewhere with a jug of wine again. Happened often enough. I quietly settled into a lotus position and began reciting the formulas of the Starfall Heart Method under my breath.
Not long ago I’d risked my life to save the Tang Clan’s second daughter. The price had been every bone in my body shattered for a while there.
Seongseong-illi… cheonjiche-yeongye…
With a mountain of merit already banked, circulating the Starfall Heart Method made a pure white energy—nothing like the crimson of the Heavenly Killing Star—ripple through my entire body.
It rose from my dantian, passed the perineum point, and surged unhindered all the way to the crown of my head. No physical form, yet a presence so distinct it was unmistakable. Inside my mind’s eye it took the shape of a siege hammer and began pounding the Heavenly Killing Star.
Thoom—!
My body jerked upward a good three inches from the impact.
Before the terrifying presence inside the Heavenly Killing Star could react, I stole a fragment of starlight and fled with it into my lower dantian, which was tightly packed with anti-demonic energy.
I pushed the Starfall Heart Method to full power. The Heavenly Killing Star’s energy gradually lost its vicious edge and melted into pure internal power.
“Hoo…”
The last thread of it was absorbed into my dantian. I wiped the cold sweat from my brow and let out a long breath.
A clear, star-bright cluster of energy now sat distinctly inside my dantian.
“I’ve finally got ten years’ worth of internal energy…!”
What had started as a grain of millet had swollen to a bean, then bulked up further until it was the size of a walnut.
A scorching, flame-like power flooded every corner of my body. My blood boiled. Throwing myself in front of that monstrous boar had been worth it after all.
“A match for ten thousand men. The courage of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. Peerless under heaven. All of those titles belong to this body…!”
A roar of triumph hurled at a world where the strong thrived and the weak perished. As long as I had this cultivation method and the Heavenly Killing Star, good deeds equaled power. That logic—something I’d never felt on Earth—sent a thrill through me.
I was thoroughly drunk on my own strength and virtue when a voice drifted from behind.
“There he goes, spouting crap again.”
I turned. Hwang Geolgae was staring at me like I was a complete lunatic.
This ghost of an old man—when had he appeared behind me without a sound?
“You’ve got the wrong idea.”
“Wrong idea, my ass.”
What a prickly geezer.
Arms folded, he looked me up and down, then his expression shifted as if he’d figured something out.
“I was wondering why your internal energy was growing so fast. Turns out this brat’s even more of a narcissist than I thought.”
That was why even minor good deeds made me feel so proud of myself, he muttered—his theory on the secret of my rapid progress.
“Master, narcissist? That’s ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous? You think hauling a boar’s attention a few times is enough to earn that much power?”
He was thoroughly tearing down the heroics I’d described last night.
“It wasn’t a boar—it was a spirit beast the size of a bear, okay? And it even coughed up an inner core. I settled for a measly twenty copper coins as payment. That’s a pretty big sacrifice and concession on my part.”
This tough body of mine had nearly folded in half from a single charge. In my previous life I would’ve haggled the medical fees out of them no matter what. Twenty copper coins—not even silver!
“You little punk, you got the Tang Clan’s bronze token in exchange, didn’t you?”
“I don’t deal in illiquid assets. That’s my creed.”
Some country on Earth traded fighter jets for chicken, but I wasn’t having any of that. Dan Mujin Trouble Solutions ran on cash only, thank you very much.
“Heavens, what am I supposed to do with this headache of a kid.”
Between my rock-solid self-love and the way I talked back to him every single time, Hwang Geolgae looked ready to punch me. His fist clenched. I instinctively turtled my neck in case a blow came flying at the top of my head.
“Looking at how he acts, he’s pure self-serving scum… but the end result is he keeps helping people for next to nothing and racking up good deeds. Honestly…”
The old man clicked his tongue, looking thoroughly conflicted.
“Master, isn’t good enough good enough? Whatever the reason, I’m practicing chivalry and saving people, right?”
So what if my motives were a little worldly? The Heavenly Killing Star was supposed to leave rivers of blood wherever it went, yet here I was helping people and doing good deeds—even if it was for the internal energy. That was plenty fine in my book.
“Hmm… Well, expecting to be full after the first spoonful is greedy, I suppose.”
My words must have sounded halfway reasonable. Hwang Geolgae nodded slowly. But that crooked look in his eyes said he was going to keep watching me, same as always.
Sigh. When was I ever going to escape that surveillance glare?
“Anyway, Master, I’ve got ten years of internal energy now. Got anything for me?”
“Anything my foot, you brat. I told you to bring me fifteen years’ worth.”
I was saying it because I might die before then. Why did every single job that came my way have to be this bloodthirsty?
Please let the next request not involve any swordplay.
“Tsk tsk. Stop scheming about what you can squeeze out of me. Dawn’s here—go wake Ilhong. That kid still has a lot to learn.”
Now that he mentioned it, the sky was starting to pale. A reddish glow was slowly lifting its head over the distant mountain ridges.
I’d been so absorbed in stealing the Heavenly Killing Star’s energy that I hadn’t noticed. Time had flown while I was circulating my qi.
“I’ve got a lot to learn too, you know. Why are you only looking after her these days?”
Some of us got beaten half to death learning martial arts the hard way. Others showed up and immediately got bone-washing, marrow-cleansing, and meridian-opening like they were the scion of some great clan.
Nothing in the world was more unfair than open discrimination. Especially with kids who were still growing—if you treated them like that, even I would turn into a full-blown golden child throwing tantrums.
“You punk, her family situation is pretty rough.”
“Hey, my family situation is rough and pitiful too.”
“Unlike that upright, kind-hearted kid, you’re such a little shit that I don’t feel all that sorry for you.”
“…”
The bluntness—no, the sheer naked honesty—left me speechless. What an old man. Mass-producing golden children, I swear.
“For a Daoist, your character is a little…”
Smack—!
A lightning-fast knuckle-rap to the skull. Stars exploded in front of my eyes and a string of curses tore out of me.
“Aah, fuck!”
“Heh heh. Enough nonsense. Bring Ilhong.”
My fist was itching for revenge. But in the murim, the weak just had to endure. What other choice was there?
Grumbling, I headed for the little shed-like place where Ilhong slept. Couldn’t put her with the men, and sticking her in the women’s quarters would raise too many questions, so she was staying alone here. At least the wind didn’t whistle through the walls—warmer than my own room.
I yanked the door open.
“Ilhong, time to get up… Hm?”
She was already awake. Or rather, she looked like she hadn’t slept at all—eyes sunken and hollow.
A complicated cylindrical metal device had been completely disassembled overnight, its parts laid out across the room.
“…Hey. This isn’t what I think it is, is it?”
It looked extremely familiar. Holes perfectly sized for throwing needles. A projection mechanism I’d seen somewhere before.
When I gave her a suspicious look, she flinched and stopped sketching her diagram.
“Ah! I didn’t steal it! I—I just somehow ended up with it in my hands, okay?!”
According to Hwang Geolgae she was a model student, yet she yelped like someone who’d just been caught red-handed thieving.
***
Noon. The sun baked the crown of my head.
Another job had come in from Guildmaster Gamun. He’d insisted this one absolutely wouldn’t involve any sword work, so I’d accepted and was on my way to meet the client.
“Boss, you’re misunderstanding.”
And ever since we’d left, Ilhong had been chattering excuses beside me.
“Sure, sure. It’s all a misunderstanding. Completely.”
I answered with my most understanding face. She pounded her own chest in frustration.
“I really didn’t steal this, okay?”
Then what—had Dang Yeohye just gifted an outsider her clan’s secret weapon? Come on, make sense.
“No, no, you did great. The pay was garbage anyway. You’ve got to look out for your own cut.”
We’d saved the Tang Clan’s daughter and even handed over a poison core. One hidden weapon in return was a bargain, if anything.
My praise only made Ilhong’s face twist harder.
“Argh, I’m serious! I just forgot it was in my pocket and came down the mountain with it…!”
Her voice was pure grievance. Her claim was that it wasn’t stolen goods—it was lost property. Or more accurately, found property.
Hmm. Thinking about it, that was possible. The last time I’d seen them, both Dang Yeohye and Neungsam had been so high on the poison core they were practically floating. After tossing us the gratitude token, they hadn’t cared whether we left or not.
“Then why were you taking it apart piece by piece?”
“Ah, that was just… personal curiosity before I returned it…”
Apparently the Haomu Gate blacksmiths who’d taught her human-skin masks and various crafting techniques always named the Tang Clan as the absolute peak in this field. The moment she got her hands on a real specimen, she’d started analyzing it before she even realized what she was doing.
“…Alright. I’ll believe you.”
That pure, craftsman-obsessed sparkle in her eyes made it pretty clear she was telling the truth.
“Whew.”
She exhaled in relief and tucked the Tang Clan hidden weapon—somehow already back in her hands—into her robes again.
“How’d you even reassemble it that fast?”
There had been dozens of tiny, intricate parts spread across the floor.
“Assembly is just disassembly in reverse. If you remember the steps, it’s easy.”
Was that how it worked? I’d fumbled plenty of times just taking apart a firearm that didn’t even have that many parts.
“But no matter how much I analyzed it, there was one thing I couldn’t figure out.”
“What one thing?”
“The principle that fires the needles.”
She tapped the dense cluster of holes in the weapon.
“Sniff sniff.”
I put my nose to the device and took a few good sniffs.
The firing mechanism for a projection device. If it wasn’t tension and elasticity, there was only one thing left.
“Looks like they used black powder.”
There was still black soot left in the holes, too.
“Black powder… You mean that black dust they put in thunder bombs?”
She knew quite a bit about gunpowder. In an era that tried so hard to keep information locked down, that alone was impressive.
“The more I look at you, the more you know, Ilhong.”
“…Hehe.”
She scratched her head bashfully.
“But for the Tang Clan to be using black powder… Outside of the Thunderclap Sect, which has imperial permission, that’s completely illegal in the murim.”
“Doesn’t matter if you don’t get caught. And almost everyone who gets hit by those needles ends up dead anyway, so the secret stays buried automatically.”
“…Yeah, that makes sense.”
Between their members’ temperaments and this kind of thing, the Sichuan Tang Clan was one ruthless place.
We kept chatting as we walked, and before long the meeting spot came into view.
Under the shade of a large tree, a young man reeking of ink waited for us. When we approached and explained we were the wandering swordsmen who’d taken the job, his eyes went wide.
“What? Kids like you? Really?”
I was getting tired of hearing that.
People around here, the moment they heard “wandering swordsman,” immediately pictured some big, bearded bandit type. So every single time I had to pull out my official wandering-swordsman plaque just to prove it.
“Huh. It’s real. I’ve seen a few female wanderers, but a boy swordsman…”
Having completed the usual rite of passage, it was time to talk business.
“So I heard you’re heading deep into the mountains. Mind if I ask why?”
This was supposed to be a perfectly safe request with nothing to worry about. One more chance, Guildmaster Gamun. I’m trusting you again.
“Why climb the mountain? Because of these.”
He pulled out the paintings he’d made and thrust them in front of us.
Rats, oxen, tigers, rabbits—the entire Twelve Zodiac was there as a baseline, plus careful drawings of black-and-white bear-cats that people around here rarely painted. Everything was skillfully done, yet there wasn’t a single landscape, portrait, or genre scene—just animals.
And somehow every single painting carried the same uncanny vibe.
“I… I just love beasts this much. So I asked Guildmaster Gamun to hire someone so I could see them with my own eyes and find inspiration.”
“…Ah. I see.”
Guildmaster Gamun, you absolute bastard.
He’d dumped another weird job on us.
***
The deeper you go into the mountains, the deeper the valleys get.
Especially in primeval forest where human hands have never reached—even advancing a hundred paces can be a struggle.
On top of that, our client’s obsession with animals was truly something else. When it became clear the job had no end in sight, I cooked up a little scheme.
“Client, you said you love beasts, right?”
“That’s right. Speechless animals are far more precious than people who only ever hurt you.”
“…”
This guy was a serious case too.
Anyway, the request was ultimately about finding a new perspective and inspiration, wasn’t it?
“Then have you ever tried drawing a four-legged beast that walks on two feet?”
“…!?”