A Race for Survival

Once the realization struck, the whole world brimmed with qi.

Only after peeling my spirit free of flesh could I sense the great order of nature itself. Was this what it felt like for a blind man to open his eyes at last?

Eager to share the breakthrough, I ran straight to Hwang Geolgae.

"Khhrrr…"

Even in broad daylight, a thunderous snore rolled out to meet me. Empty liquor bottles lay scattered across the ground. Half-eaten chicken legs and assorted side dishes completed the scene.

"Elder Hwang."

He looked as if he had thrown himself a private drinking party and simply passed out in the street. This old man ate, slept, and lived exactly as he pleased. And here I was, having crawled through hell until the sky itself had gone blue.

"Hey. Old man."

I quietly demoted his title and nudged his foot with my toe. Hwang Geolgae just kept drooling, showing no sign of waking. Then a pure white steamed bun swam into view. Cold and hard from the night air, sure—but a free meal was a free meal.

I swallowed hard and reached for it.

Tak!

His eyes snapped open and he smacked my hand away.

"Where do you think you're going with that, you little bastard!"

True to form for a top-tier beggar, the man was merciless when food was involved. I clicked my tongue and withdrew my hand.

Wiping the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand, Hwang Geolgae sat up. Sleeping on bare stone had not been kind to him; he looked a complete mess.

"Maybe lay off the booze for once."

The words had barely left my mouth before he scooped up a bottle still sloshing with Shaoxing wine.

"Hah! You think this is liquor? It's water. Water with a peculiar flavor that happens to lift the spirits."

He had looked exactly like this drunken wreck the first time I met him in that alley. Masters of a certain level could burn alcohol out of their system with internal energy, yet he seemed determined to enjoy the pleasant buzz on purpose.

"Aren't you a Daoist? Don't you cultivate the Way?"

"Heh heh. The Primordial Heavenly Lord lives inside this gourd, boy."

Unbelievable. I snorted.

"I'm not joking. Drink about twenty bottles and you'll truly meet him."

Yeah—because you'd be at death's door. I shook my head. For a man supposedly pursuing the Dao, he lived even more unhinged than the Heavenly Killing Star.

"Anyway, I succeeded. I awakened my internal energy. Look."

It was only a grain of sand's worth of qi, but the moment I circulated it according to the formulas, vitality flooded my whole body. If I layered footwork and body techniques on top of this kind of stamina, how much easier would the debt-collecting work become?

"Oh-ho."

Hwang Geolgae, somewhat sobered, pressed his hand near my dantian. He didn't pour energy into me the way he had last time, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but he was measuring the amount somehow; his grizzled brows kept twitching.

"This… this is—!"

"This is?"

His eyes flew wide, as if he had found something wrong.

"Your internal energy is far too small!"

"…"

Well, yes. I only just awakened it. Was he seriously messing with me? In silent revenge I quietly pocketed one of the bouncing buns.

"Then teach me how to build it fast."

He popped the cork on another bottle and muttered, "How to build it fast, eh…"

"Simple enough. Do as the great clans do—drive out impurities with Marrow-Washing Cleansing, open the meridians through True Qi Guidance, then pour in expensive spirit medicines without a second thought."

In other words: ride the full support of a powerful house and burn money like a maniac. For the record, this body had been born into a great clan. If not for that damned star falling on me, all of that could have been mine.

Fresh anger flared. But the door of opportunity hadn't slammed completely shut. I still had a teacher—more or less—who could show me the path and drag me along it.

"Elder, you wouldn't happen to have any spirit medicines or beast cores stashed away?"

"None. Do you think spirit medicines and the cores of spirit beasts just fall out of the sky? Ridiculous boy."

I hadn't expected much on the medicine front. One look at him told you the old beggar didn't have a scrap to his name.

"Then how about performing the Marrow-Washing or True Qi Guidance for me? Just once?"

I already knew he could do it—he had proven as much in the back alley. In the Murim, internal energy was the yardstick of strength. If he would show me a shortcut, I was ready to knock my forehead against the dirt as many times as it took.

"No, you brat. I don't even want to touch you."

Hwang Geolgae waved me off as if the very idea were absurd. This man had already accepted the full nine bows of apprenticeship from me, and still—

"Why not?"

"Because it's terrifying!"

He jabbed a finger at my Baihui acupoint on the crown of my head, reminding me of the dreadful thing he had glimpsed inside me last time. If he was scared, how much more scared did he think I was? Living with this felt like carrying an Alien in my chest that could burst out any second.

"Stop trying to frighten me."

"Boy, I'm the one who's frightened!"

"No, seriously."

I barely swallowed the string of curses climbing my throat. He snorted a laugh at my expression, then finally told me what he had seen that day in the alley.

"If this old man hadn't already mastered the Seongun Simbeop, facing 'that thing' would have shattered my upper dantian on the spot."

Someone of his caliber had gotten away with mere mental shock. Anyone else would have plunged straight into qi deviation. Whatever he had seen, he refused even to name it for fear of being 'recognized' by it again. Something related to the Heavenly Killing Star, no doubt.

"Then is there another way? If the Cloud Star Heart Method builds energy slower than the cursed star revives, I'll get overrun and die."

This wouldn't work, that wouldn't work—and my life was on the line here.

"Hmm. There is one shortcut, in theory… but it's never been attempted, so I'm reluctant to speak of it."

He trailed off, lacking conviction.

"Just tell me."

At my urging he fixed me with a long, steady look, stroking his beard for a good while as he wrestled with the idea.

"The Cloud Star Heart Method, in the end, nurtures the energy of the stars… It is not a method that builds qi by its own power alone, is it?"

So I had been told. It could nurture the qi of nature, but it was still most efficient when practiced under faint starlight.

"And inside you already sits one star… An ominous thing packed solid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with killing intent, true, but a star nonetheless."

"…!"

He tapped the top of my head. Understanding hit me at once, and I slapped my knee.

Of course. I didn't need to go hunting for star power in the far distance. All I had to do was purify the energy of the Heavenly Killing Star lodged in my skull through the Cloud Star Heart Method and claim it as my own strength.

"But Elder Hwang—is that actually possible?"

If it worked, it would be no different from walking around with a spirit medicine permanently grafted inside me. Turning disaster into fortune, as they say.

"That's for you—the boy carrying the star—to try and report back."

So I was the test subject. Fair enough. Hosts of a cursed star weren't exactly common.

"…But this cursed star won't even twitch, let alone get absorbed."

Curious whether it would work, I had been prodding whatever sat at my Baihui with my grain-sized energy. It might as well have been a boulder; not a flicker of response.

"Which is why you have to pile up massive good deeds first and weaken the cursed star, you fool."

Massive good deeds. Easy for him to say. I worked until sundown and trained martial arts through the night; I barely had room to breathe, much less go hunting for virtue.

"I'd love to rack up good deeds. But do opportunities just grow legs and come looking for me?"

There had to be people in distress nearby before I could start performing good deeds for them. Hwang Geolgae clicked his tongue at my grumbling.

"Tsk. Become a chivalrous hero and make a name for yourself. Then people begging for help will throng around you like clouds."

A chivalrous hero. Those romantic figures straight out of wuxia novels. Funny—not a single one of them had shown up when I was getting beaten in the back alleys.

"Elder, that doesn't pay."

Having lived through days of eating grass roots, the problem of making a living mattered to me every bit as much as the Heavenly Killing Star. And if a person did work for someone, compensation ought to follow. That was only natural.

"Heh heh. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Then play the part of a wandering martial artist who behaves like a chivalrous hero."

A wandering martial artist—the troubleshooters of the Murim. Helping people in trouble would build good deeds and earn money at the same time. Not a bad deal, honestly. The catch was that the wanderers around here mostly took mercenary contracts that involved sticking blades into people. That sort of work could stimulate the Heavenly Killing Star, so I would have to choose jobs carefully.

Finding missing persons, collecting unpaid debts—the safe jobs. Come to think of it, that wasn't so different from the troubleshooter work I used to do.

"I'll think it over."

Earn money and rack up merit at the same time. Hard to beat that combination. Maybe people really did have a calling.

"So the brat doesn't like helping people for free."

I shook my head at Hwang Geolgae's words. Nothing in this world was free. Every labor and every service carried a price. My mind was still far more at home with capitalism than with the martial path or chivalrous codes.

"Fine. Whatever it is, go help people and build virtue. This old man is curious to see what becomes of you."

Looking thoroughly entertained, he tipped back the Shaoxing wine. Here I was thrashing around just to stay alive, and every time I saw him he looked like the most carefree man alive.

"Yes. I'll manage somehow. If I take it easy and the madness flares up, you'll blow my head clean off without a second thought, won't you?"

Not hard work—desperate work. That was the motto by which Dan Mujin lived.

"Hmm. Your head, you say…"

Hearing my bitter complaint, he propped his chin and sank into thought. Had a few weeks of knocking around together actually grown some affection? He was taking a surprisingly long time with this one.

"Would you prefer a fist, or a club?"

"…"

For fuck's sake. So much for affection.

The silk-worm house—the site of the Eunseong Merchant Group's newest venture.

A place that should have been filled with the soft rustle of silkworms chewing mulberry leaves now lay under a strange, heavy silence.

"I am sorry, my lady. We tried every method we knew, but once again…"

The silkworms had died in droves. More than half the insects inside the wooden frames had gone stiff and still, their shells mottled with pus and black spots. The manager of the silk-worm house bare his half-bald crown and slammed his forehead to the floor.

"…Please rise. I will not hold you responsible."

They weren't the Sichuan Tang Clan, researchers of every poison under the sun—what did ordinary people really know about insects? Especially silkworms, creatures the imperial household treated as sacred. Trying to raise them without a proper sericulture master was like groping through pitch darkness with bare hands.

"Steward Jin, what did the Haomu Gate say?"

Silk meant money. Enormous amounts of it. But official authorization from the state was required, and the taxes levied were crushing. That was how secret silkworm farming had come into being—practiced mostly by outfits like the Haomu Gate. A cell-based network hard to track, stocked with blacksmiths, weavers, and tailors. Perfect.

Eun Hwaran had sought help from the underworld faction that had been raking in money through tax-evading sericulture. The high and mighty would not be pleased if they learned of it, but she no longer had the luxury of choosing her methods. And if all she wanted was to learn how to raise silkworms—well, what could they say? They hadn't even sent her a sericulture master; they had no right to object.

"We did knock upon their door, my lady, but…"

"But?"

"The Beijing branch has been smashed to pieces. Some kind of upheaval seems to have struck them."

"…Of all times!"

Apparently the Primordial Heavenly Lord had decided to abandon the Eun ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠family. Nothing else could explain how thoroughly everything was unraveling. Eun Hwaran clenched her folding fan until it threatened to snap, stamping her foot in frustration.

"And there is one more piece of unwelcome news."

Disaster upon disaster. Ill fortune never arrived alone. Steward Jin produced another letter stamped with the seal of a golden toad.

"The Mangeum Money House has sent word. If the repayment date is not met, they will seize the collateral."

"…"

They meant to start collecting the debt in earnest. Treating the Eunseong Merchant Group—a house with a hundred years of roots—as if the money were already forfeit. Eun Hwaran's face tightened with humiliation as she clenched both fists.

"They have also attached a rather peculiar proposal by which the entire debt might be forgiven at a stroke."

"…What kind of proposal?"

She pricked up her ears and asked back, half skeptical. The infamous Mangeum Money House would never simply abandon a debt.

"A marriage proposal with the fourth young master of the Mangeum Money House. If you take him as a live-in son-in-law, the families would be bound, and every debt would be written off."

Crack.

The folding fan she had been barely holding together finally snapped. Eun Hwaran opened her mouth, looking utterly appalled.

"They're looking down on us. Receiving a proposal that reeks this badly of rot… wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, my lady. Without a doubt."

To shove a marriage proposal at a merchant group where a single woman was fighting alone—and to use a crushing debt as the vanguard. Geum Hwangdo, proprietor of the Mangeum Money House, was famous for his cunning and greed. Her late father had always warned that such men smiled to your face while hatching schemes behind your back. This proposal almost certainly hid an ugly design of its own.

And the fourth young master of the Mangeum Money House…

"Isn't that the notorious rake who spends every day of his life in the pleasure houses?"

A man so infamous for seizing any beauty he fancied that the gossips had dubbed him the Sleazy Young Master. He wasn't even a martial artist, and still he had earned a moniker. Her eyes narrowed with anger.

"Unbelievable."

It felt as if the handle of a millstone had sprouted legs and run off. He reminded her of her own brother, Eun Yang-gon—who had nearly ruined the family with gambling and women before being disowned and cast out. Geum Hwangdo had only one unmarried son left, the fourth; clearly he meant to put the boy to use this way while he still could.

"My lady, refusing is well and good—but it is also true that we have no funds to meet the next payment when it falls due."

"So you want me to make a political marriage with that Sleazy Young Master?"

Sensing the sharp edge in her voice, Steward Jin answered soothingly.

"No. I mean that we should find a way to live—so that it never comes to that."

Of course that was the best direction. But the question that followed hard on its heels was how?

"A way to live…"

Too many thoughts crowded her head, tangled like a knotted skein of thread. When her father faced moments like this, he would go for a walk.

"Haa. I'm going to clear my head."

With that, Eun Hwaran stepped out through the doors of the silk-worm house.

The training ground still bore the deep scars of the escort guards' practice.

"From this moment, this old man will teach you how to use your feet."

The moment starlight-forged internal energy settled into my dantian, Hwang Geolgae made the announcement. As promised, he would teach me that ghostly footwork—the sliding, sudden, vanishing steps of his.

"Watch carefully. This is how a light-body technique is unleashed."

He slid his left foot forward. The instant the ball of his foot flexed, his form winked out like a ghost. A whisper of wind, and a human shape bloomed behind my back.

"Whoa—!"

Movement like a single stroke of wind. That was the technique that had taken me down before I could even raise a hand.

Paah—

With a crack of bursting air he appeared on my left. I whipped my gaze after him—and he erupted from the right. Phantom footwork that seemed to fold space itself. Even with my eyes wide open, my sight could not keep pace with Hwang Geolgae.

Pa-pa-pat—

Now he raced the broad training ground like a whirlwind. The tip of his foot grazed and kicked the earth, and his body shot forward like a bolt of light. In a single instant he crossed more than a full li and stood before me as if he had always been there. The gale he dragged in his wake flattened my clothes and hair straight back.

For all that explosive light-body technique, he was not even breathing hard.

"Well?"

He dusted the tattered hem of his Daoist robe as he asked. I kept forgetting because of the constant drunk act, but this old man was a genuine monster of a master.

"That was sick."

"…Sick? What on earth does that mean?"

"It means it was incredible."

I raised both thumbs in a double thumbs-up. He clicked his tongue at the incomprehensible gesture, muttering that the boy was never quite right in the head.

"What this old man just demonstrated is called the Seonpungbo—the Whirlwind Steps."

"Ohh. Whirlwind Steps."

A martial art combining footwork and light-body technique. He had taken the Whirlwind Body Method—restricted to disciples of the Fifth Knot and higher—and reworked it into something of his own creation. So the old man had the makings of a grandmaster as well.

"First I will teach you how to plant your feet."

"Yes! I'll engrave every word!"

At last I would learn those endlessly shifting, wondrously strange Whirlwind Steps. With this, I could slip between enemies and turn a battlefield into chaos. Become a single stroke of whirlwind.

"First you must hammer into your skull the thirty-five paths of advance and retreat, and the twenty meridians through which internal energy must flow."

Even after arriving in the Murim, rote memorization was unavoidable. And yet, for a man about to begin instruction, Hwang Geolgae picked up a liquor bottle like a club.

"Elder, why the bottle?"

"This will help."

"…"

Fortunately, Moyong Cheongjin's soft brain and the memorization skills forged by public schooling spared me the fate of a permanently dented skull. I couldn't grasp the deep principles hidden in the forms, but the outer shapes were starting to look halfway decent.

Before long, the theory portion ended without major incident.

"Your insight is open."

Hwang Geolgae smacked his lips as if disappointed. That was apparently how he said someone was reasonably sharp.

"Then let us try the real thing."

He tucked the bottle into his robes and raised a solid, meaty fist for me to see.

"Elder… why the fist?"

"Because the Heavenly Killing Star learns fastest when its host feels the threat of death."

It reacted that way instinctively, he said, just to stay alive. Come to think of it, when the escort guards had beaten me senseless, I had somehow stolen the Eight-Wall Fist without even realizing it. People really did learn fastest when necessity drove them.

"Still, this is a bit much."

Even a flick to the forehead felt like it would split my skull. Getting hit by that massive fist would hurt beyond description. And this body was so absurdly durable that my dying-act theatrics never landed properly.

"This 'Bluffing Daoist' will personally instruct you. If you want to live, put everything you have learned to use—and run."

Apparently he had been holding a grudge over something I said last time. Ah, damn it. No matter what I did, a beating was guaranteed.

"Now then—run for it—!"

The depth of learning always matches the depth of desperation. And so began the martial training of a man who wanted, more than anything, to stay alive.