The Ronin Market
The three of them kept ordering more tea, spending hours poring over the documents.
There was just so much material, and they read every detail carefully, analyzed it, and occasionally exchanged opinions.
By the time they realized it, quite a bit of time had passed, but they hadn't gotten through even a fraction of it.
They couldn't very well pull an all-nighter at the teahouse, so they gathered up the documents and headed back to their lodgings.
Even after returning to their rooms, they stayed up late scrutinizing the papers without rest.
But it was far from easy work.
Was it because the content was so vast?
No, that was something they could overcome with enough time and effort.
The real challenge was sifting through the mountains of information to separate truth from lies and exaggerated claims.
Without any foundational knowledge of Bokryonggok, discerning fact from fiction was no simple task.
Where could they trust the accounts, and where should they start filtering them out?
Even reliable information—would it actually help them now?
At this critical juncture, where judgment mattered more than ever, exhaustion had pushed them all to their limits.
Several days passed as they delved into the documents.
They gathered at the teahouse again, eyes strained and weary from endless review, their faces etched with fatigue—but their gazes still burned with determination.
"This is tough. Grasping the true nature of Bokryonggok feels impossible."
Han Seo-yeon let out a sigh laced with frustration.
"It's difficult," Woo-gang added curtly.
"Did you find anything worthwhile?"
"Take a look at this."
In response to Han Seo-yeon's question, Woo-gang slid a single document across the table.
"'Where myriad paths converge, the crouching dragon slumbering in the deep valley shall one day scheme to claim the world.' It seems like a poetic description of Bokryonggok itself."
"Yeah, that's what I thought too. But no matter how I turn it over, nothing else stands out as a real clue."
"Why do you think that?"
"What if Bokryonggok didn't start as a single sect? What if it was more like an alliance formed when like-minded people from across the Central Plains gathered?"
"People still call that a sect."
Han Seo-yeon chuckled lightly, but Woo-gang remained serious.
"I don't know how to put it exactly, but a proper sect means everyone learns the same martial arts, lives together, follows the same teachings... you know?"
"Sure."
"But Bokryonggok might have been different—just people banding together for one purpose, scattering once it was done. They appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as suddenly, right?"
At Woo-gang's words, Han Seo-yeon placed her own findings in the center of the table.
"It might be my own interpretation, but it lines up with what I found. Check this out."
Woo-gang and the Bing Palace warrior's eyes locked onto it.
"It's a hypothesis, but it holds water. They seem to have had no fixed base. How else could they appear and disappear so abruptly, like grains of sand scattering and reforming at need? It's hard to explain otherwise. Definitely not like a traditional sect."
Woo-gang frowned at Han Seo-yeon's explanation.
He had a sense of how Bokryonggok operated, but it still felt distant from its true essence.
"No other group in the Central Plains—or even beyond—runs like that. Even those 'free-spirited' beggars band together under the Beggar Clan with some structure. But not Bokryonggok."
"What the hell are they, really...?"
The Bing Palace warrior muttered in frustration.
"Maybe..."
"Maybe?"
"Just a thought that popped up. Ronin."
"Ronin?"
"Yeah. They're wanderers with no affiliation, drifting across the Central Plains. What if they had a network linking them, and they rallied through that?"
The three exchanged glances.
"Let's investigate the ronin angle. Stories about Bokryonggok might have passed down among them. Or maybe the current group is ronin-led."
"But if they're scattered like sand, where do we even start?"
Everyone fell silent at Woo-gang's question.
There had to be places where ronin gathered regularly, even if they didn't operate like a sect. They'd dig there.
Right or wrong, they had a direction now—and no other paths in sight.
With that decided, they left the teahouse feeling a bit lighter.
Han Seo-yeon tasked the Bing Palace warriors with mapping ronin activity zones.
They learned of a place called the Ronin Market.
It wasn't some barbaric slave market trading ronin like commodities.
Unlike sects and clans sustained by donations and tribute, ronin had to work to survive.
But a warrior couldn't just take odd jobs or peddle goods.
Thus, the Ronin Market was born—a hub for jobs suited to honed blades.
Clients came directly to hire, or agents distributed quests to ronin.
Ronin took the jobs, completed them, collected pay, and eked out a living.
That was the Ronin Market.
And there wasn't just one or two—they dotted the Central Plains.
Finding something meaningful meant plenty of legwork.
Woo-gang and Han Seo-yeon moved swiftly.
"This time I beat that bastard good and earned a fat purse! Drinks on me!"
"Hahahahaha!"
"Must've struck gold for once! The guy who usually just mooches!"
"What'd you say, punk?!"
"Hahahahaha!"
In a tavern at one corner of the market, a drinking party raged even in broad daylight.
The ronin, faces flushed red, exuded a rough camaraderie—fierce yet jovial, wild yet warm.
If the Murim Alliance and sects showed disciplined freedom, ronin embodied raw wilderness.
Perhaps that's why Han Seo-yeon looked flushed and out of place since entering the market.
The ronin paid no mind to the newcomers.
With clients frequenting the market for hires, strangers were commonplace.
Still, their indifference surprised her.
"We're here, but where to start?"
"Grab some food first, get the lay of the land. Something'll turn up."
At Woo-gang's suggestion, they settled at a nearby stall.
Sitting face-to-face, they scanned the surroundings, eyes darting.
Soon, a burly owner who could pass for a bandit approached.
"Welcome. Food? Booze?"
"Food, please."
The owner added to Woo-gang's reply.
"You look new, so I'll let you know: we don't have a menu. Just one dish—whatever I'm in the mood for today. That alright?"
"Fine by us."
The owner nodded and shuffled off.
"Fascinating place."
"Not much different from back-alley streets. People are people everywhere."
"You seem used to it."
"Nah, just seen spots like this passing through. Doesn't mean I'm comfortable. Seeing from outside and feeling it inside are worlds apart."
As they shared brief impressions, the owner returned quickly with food.
A bowl brimming with milky soup, packed with hearty chunks.
"Extra meat for good luck on your first visit. Dig in."
"Thanks. Oh, mind if we ask something?"
"Shoot."
"We're curious about the ronin here. Where should we go?"
The owner frowned at Woo-gang's question.
"Hm... There is a place for quests, but whatever you're after, good luck getting it."
Woo-gang and Han Seo-yeon exchanged looks.
"We got rules here. No prying into personal histories. No names, origins, ages, backstories—unless they spill drunk. And even then, what you hear stays here. Forget it the second you leave. Know but don't know, got it? So whether you're hunting someone or have other business, it'll be tough."
They traded glances again.
"Anyway, eat up. Gets cold fast."
Having shared the market's unwritten code, the owner departed. Woo-gang scooped a heaping spoonful and popped it in.
His eyebrows rose; he nodded appreciatively. Tasty.
"What now?"
Han Seo-yeon frowned.
"We're not after personal dirt, so we push forward. And who knows if that's just here or everywhere? Eat up—it's good."
Han Seo-yeon tried a spoonful, but worry won out; she left some behind.
After eating, Woo-gang and Han Seo-yeon headed to the spot the owner mentioned.
A sturdy desk dominated the entrance.
Behind it sat an elderly man in rough robes, scribbling furiously without looking up.
"Here for a quest?"
The elder asked without lifting his head.
"No, just some questions about ronin."
The man paused his brush and glanced up slyly.
"Don't know the rules, eh?"
"We do. The stall owner told us over food."
"Then you know there's nothing to hear. I'm no ronin, but as part of this place, I can't break the code."
"Our questions aren't about that."
The elder sighed softly and set down his brush.
"Alright, try me."
"Any tales of Bokryonggok passed down among ronin?"
"Bokryonggok... Heard it was a thing long ago. But no ronin lore that I know."
He shook his head.
"Seen any ronin acting strangely lately? Vanishing or changing patterns?"
"This ain't their home—just a stopover. People come and go; it's normal. Strange behavior? Can't say I have. And even if, I wouldn't care why. That's the rule."
The elder stared at Woo-gang.
Then came the final question.
"Is this place Bokryonggok?"
Han Seo-yeon startled, shooting Woo-gang a look.
But he stared straight at the elder.