Big Score (3): Officials and Warriors Shall Not Trespass
There's a saying in the Murim: "Officials and warriors shall not trespass."
It means the government won't stick its nose into martial artists' business, no matter what mess we make among ourselves—and the reverse is just as true.
As long as we don't touch innocent civilians who aren't part of the Murim, even a villain like the Bone-Breaking Ghost gets a pass from the authorities.
The guy's killed more people than you can count on one hand, you say? What bullshit is that?
Honestly, even I—a Murim newbie of a year and a half—don't know the full story. I just roll with it.
If we're splitting hairs, does it even make sense that a regular modern guy like me ended up dropped into the Murim world? As an elf, no less?
"Eh, fuck."
Suddenly, my mood soured.
In a fit of pique, I plunked the Bone-Breaking Ghost's head—bundled up and all—right onto the table.
-Thud!
"Why the hell are you taking it out on innocent furniture, you bitch?"
The grumbling voice came right on cue.
Of course, this wasn't like those black path thugs at the inn. This was someone I knew.
"Hurry up and pay me the bounty on this bastard's head. Ten silver taels."
"What's the rush? You think I'm the type to stiff you?"
The middle-aged man—shaggy hair, bushy mustache, and a thick beard like a bandit—groused as he shelled out the cash.
He was a real bandit once, to be precise.
"Here, ten silver taels."
"Heh."
My pouch suddenly felt fat, and a grin slipped out before I knew it. No money worries for a while, at least.
The clinking was downright cheerful.
As I fiddled with the silver, smirking to myself, the Mountain Bandit Uncle sidled in with a comment.
"Wasn't too tough catching this guy?"
"Total wimp. What about him?"
"Don't play tough. The Bone-Breaking Ghost is a famous first-rate expert. You think he survived decades in this game with those dirty tricks for nothing? If he had any luck with people, he'd be running a mid-tier black path outfit, no problem."
He had a pretty high opinion of that scum. Not entirely wrong, though, considering he knew about sword qi.
I shrugged.
"Guess he just didn't have the substance."
"Or you're a peak expert strong enough to take his head without a scratch."
The Mountain Bandit Uncle suddenly lowered his voice, gazing at me with soulful eyes.
What the hell was this old fart doing?
"What?"
Instead of answering, he rummaged under the table and tossed a weathered wooden token in front of me like it was nothing.
"Take it."
The character etched on it was gold—.
As I reached for it, he blocked me.
"Hand over the old one first."
"You recycle these things too?"
"Limited supply. Can't help it."
I pulled a similar token from my pouch and gave it back.
Engraved with silver—.
Only then did he hand me the gold token, stuffing the silver one back under the table.
"In the Haomen, we classify ronin with these tokens. Copper for those with loose ties to us, silver for the noteworthy ones, and gold for verified masters."
"I know all this already."
"With that gold token, the Haomen will treat you as an equal from now on. You're probably the first ronin to snag one in just a few months."
The uncle was hyping me up in a way that was totally out of character.
My shoulders lifted—with pride this time. It felt like my year and a half grinding in the Murim was finally validated.
"That's it?"
"Huh?"
"I figured a gold token came with more perks."
He gave me a look like I was an idiot.
"You really think that's all there is to the Haomen acknowledging you?"
"Acknowledgment's acknowledgment. What else is there?"
I'd thought it was like a certificate for all my hard work.
He shook his head in disbelief.
"How can someone be so clueless? Don't go around saying you're with the Haomen anywhere."
"I wasn't planning to."
It wasn't true anyway. I just took jobs for cash now and then.
"Yeah, keep hiding that face behind that weird bamboo hat forever then."
"Why the sudden curse?"
Pure vitriol poured from the Mountain Bandit Uncle.
As if I hid my face for fun.
He waved me off like I was a bothersome guest. And I still hadn't heard what made the gold token so great.
As I headed for the door, a low voice called out.
"Show that gold token at any Haomen inn from now on, and you won't pay for a damn thing."
Ah, that was it. This beat-up old gold token suddenly looked shiny as hell.
#6.
Haomen.
Literally, the Five Lower Gates.
For the uninitiated: they're the most decent of the black path organizations.
A group that gathers and looks after the powerless masses. Except they've grown so huge they've become a force in their own right.
I'd heard the Mountain Bandit Uncle made his name as a bandit around Gangseo Province before the Haomen Gangseo branch scouted him and he went straight.
Makes sense—no one else could handle rowdy ronin like him.
Anyway, the Haomen does all sorts of things: trading info, running inns straight-up, managing jobs for ronin.
Oh, and posting bounties on black path scum? That's one of their businesses too.
The Bone-Breaking Ghost's ten silver taels were par for the course.
With the government citing "officials and warriors shall not trespass" and turning a blind eye to guys like him, the Murim folk handle their own grilling and frying.
Most of my income streams tied back to the Haomen, naturally.
-Bang!
Today, as usual, I kicked the inn door open with a bang and strode in.
Not for work this time, though—
"Heh heh."
I wanted to test this gold token. He'd said any Haomen inn would comp my meals if I flashed it, right?
This spot I frequented was Haomen-affiliated, perfect.
"Welcome!"
The innkeeper greeted me with gusto, even though I'd kicked the door in broad daylight.
Not everyone was thrilled, of course.
"That bitch is at it again. What the hell does she have against the door? Kicks it like that every damn day. Ruins my appetite."
"Leave her be, bro. At least we get an eyeful every time."
"Big tits are whatever. It's the face that matters. Hiding like that? Bet it's ugly as sin or scarred to hell. Yeah? Has to be."
"Still, isn't it thoughtful? She covers up so she only shows us the good parts."
"Huh, you got a point."
Somewhere, a symphony of bullshit unfolded.
Their stares prickled like needles through my bamboo hat and veil, imaginations running wild about what lay beneath.
Most patrons were ronin, so crude talk flew every visit. Not my first rodeo, but it pissed me off every time.
Better than the days when I ditched the hat and veil, purity under constant threat—but still.
Normally, I'd draw steel, but today—
"Hoo…"
Happy day. Deep breaths, hold it in.
My vibe turned murderous, and the ronin wisely looked away. Good, I held it together.
"Waiter!"
I picked a table and hollered as I sat.
Thought it was loud, but what came out was my thin, high-pitched voice. The Bone-Breaking Ghost's gravelly baritone flashed in my mind, souring my mood again.
"Unnie, unnie!"
Through the veil, as I sulked, tiny hands waved in my face.
Looking up, there was a pretty little girl.
Like cuteness sculpted into human form. Her blank expression only made her cuter.
This ten-year-old errand girl at the Wandering Swordsman Inn was a familiar face to me.
"Aigoo, my Ryeong-ah's here."
Would you believe she's my sole source of joy in this bleak Murim? Reason I'm a regular here.
-Stretch.
I pinched her cheek, and it pulled like mochi.
"Unnie's hands are cold."
Ryeong-ah pouted with her deadpan face. It was so unbearably cute I couldn't hold back.
I bent down and scooped her into a hug.
"How would I survive without you?"
Crushingly sappy, sure, but Ryeong-ah didn't hate it. If she did, I wouldn't. Probably.
As I nuzzled her face, Ryeong-ah's curt voice piped up.
"Unnie's boobs are suffocating me. And the veil itches."
Only then did I notice Ryeong-ah wheezing, crushed against my… chest.
My face heated up. I let go and cleared my throat awkwardly.
"Sorry."
"It's soft, so it's fine."
What the hell was that?
As I shot her a glare through the veil, I caught ronin whispering and glancing our way.
I glared daggers at them.
Hands off my Ryeong-ah, you creeps.
Bamboo hat might hide it, but they felt the murder vibe and averted their eyes.
"Unnie, order quick."
"Yeah, yeah, got it."
So obedient too. She'd been like that since day one. Our most meaningful connection in the Murim.
I'd saved her from black path scum, helped her settle as the inn's errand girl.
If I had a daughter, it'd feel like this, right?
"Unnie, order!"
Ryeong-ah prodded.
"The usual."
"Bamboo Leaf Liquor and thin noodles?"
"Yep."
Bamboo Leaf Liquor and thin noodles—my absolute fave.
"Why no meat, unnie? You're not some fairy living on dew."
"My Ryeong-ah says the cutest things."
Wanted to hug her again, but superhuman restraint kicked in.
"Money?"
"On the house today. Show this to your uncle instead."
I handed Ryeong-ah the gold token.
She tilted her head at the tiny thing, like a living doll.
"I'll be right back," she said, vanishing with the token.
Just her out of sight, and gloom crashed in. Bipolar much?
Luckily, she returned quick with food—as promised.
Bamboo Leaf Liquor and thin noodles don't take ages to prep anyway.
She handed back the gold token with her dainty hands.
"Unnie, the innkeeper uncle said this is super impressive."
"Really? Want it, my Ryeong-ah? Unnie'll give it to you."
For the record, "unnie" didn't exactly thrill me.
I'd once tried getting her to call me "hyung" instead. Her face after killed that idea dead. Never again.
Sweet Ryeong-ah shook her head.
"Don't need it."
So firm.
She grabbed her tray and turned to go, all business.
As I geared up to eat, she spun back—nearly forgot.
"Oh, and unnie—the innkeeper uncle said to pass this on."
"What?"
"Now that you've got the gold token, he's got a job for you. Y'know, that thing you always say."
That thing I always say?
My head tilted.
Ryeong-ah rummaged her memory with her blank face, then clapped her hands as it hit her.
"Big score!"