Chapter 54
Chapter 54
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 54
Chapter Title: Escort Duty - Escort Journey, Fate (4)
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Gwak Chil was a third-rate warrior.
From the day in his very early childhood when he first picked up a wooden sword, up until now, he had always remained a third-rate warrior.
It was because he lacked talent.
Despite yearning to become one of those wandering heroes of the jianghu, his cursed lack of talent made it impossible.
Even so, Gwak Chil admired heroes.
He was a man utterly captivated by the romance of those two characters: martial prowess (武) and heroism (俠).
Fortunately, he did possess a talent befitting his heroic aspirations.
Gwak Chil was a storyteller.
He also had exceptional literary talent.
Unable to proclaim heroism with the sword, he sought to enact it with the brush.
That was the origin story of the miscellany known as *Tales of the Jianghu Heroes*.
Of course, though called a miscellany, it was far from a useless book.
Why not?
It was a tale infused with the very essence of the heroism that one man had yearned for his entire life.
“With this book, I will proclaim the heroism I envision to the entire world!”
In his youth, Gwak Chil set forth into the jianghu under the pen name ‘Gwak Chil-pyo.’
He wrote tales of sword heroes and righteous paragons, all sorts of glamorous hero stories, raising his name high.
Thus, he earned himself a moniker.
Brush Hero Gwak Chil-pyo.
It was a title brimming with the romance of wielding the brush as a hero.
That moniker likely fueled Gwak Chil’s ambitions.
He yearned to proclaim an even more romantic heroism, one that stirred the heart even deeper.
And so, the Demonic Hero—the greatest mistake of Gwak Chil’s life—was born.
Gwak Chil simply wanted to say it.
That in every person’s heart, heroism lived and breathed, and that status, position, or the life one had lived meant nothing at all.
It was a purely innocent dream, and thus one shattered by reality.
Reality proved a bit crueler than Gwak Chil had imagined.
-Gwak Chil defends demons!
Gwak Chil didn’t know where the rumor started.
He didn’t know how it spread either.
What was certain was that at some point, the rumor took hold, and the reputation of *Tales of the Jianghu Heroes*—the work to which he had devoted his life—plummeted into the abyss.
Gwak Chil was afraid.
He feared the people who had always supported him turning their backs, feared being dragged off by the Murim Alliance, feared the condemnation.
And so, he hid.
He chose to snap the brush he had gripped his whole life and live in silence.
It was no easy choice.
Yet it was a choice he had to make.
Time is fair and generous indeed; mercifully, it dulled Gwak Chil’s pain a little.
Of course, it was inevitable that his faded passion played a part in that numbing.
Such were the twenty years that passed.
“S-Sorry—!”
Mok Ri-won dropped to his knees and cried out.
His face was etched with such profound embarrassment that it made the onlookers feel sorry for him instead.
Even amid his choking sobs, Gwak Chil smiled.
“No. It’s not because of you, Great Hero Mokryong.”
The old man’s tears were unsightly, yet no one truly saw them as such.
Amid the sobs bloomed a smile so heartrending and poignant that those watching could only gaze on with sympathy.
“It’s just... old memories coming back to me.”
Gwak Chil roughly wiped at his eyes with clumsy motions.
“…Yes, old memories. Sitting here chatting like this reminds me of my childhood.”
“A-Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Hell, I’m more than fine.”
Gwak Chil laughed, his shoulders shaking.
Only then did the old man realize he was no sinner, and he wept and laughed in a mix of relief and emotion.
“I’m sorry for showing such a disgraceful sight. Now, could you tell me a bit more of that story?”
“The story...”
“The Demonic Hero’s tale. I’d love to hear a bit more of Great Hero Mokryong’s thoughts on it.”
Gwak Chil still lacked the confidence to declare himself Gwak Chil-pyo.
How could a writer who fled without finishing his tale take pride in himself?
Yet even so, he craved some comfort.
The man’s words carried such warm kindness that Gwak Chil shamelessly made the request.
Mok Ri-won beamed.
“Of course! We could go all night!”
“No need for all night. We’ve got to travel tomorrow too.”
“Oh!”
At Mok Ri-won’s exclamation, the others burst into laughter.
Mok Ri-won scratched the back of his head sheepishly before slowly opening his mouth.
The tale of a certain hero, spun long into the night around the campfire, carried the yearning of a boy who had yet to become a man.
*
Dang Hwa-seo watched Mok Ri-won from afar.
Thus, she had no choice but to ask him directly.
“Why was that escort crying?”
“I didn’t make him cry!”
Mok Ri-won exclaimed in horror.
What followed was, as expected, a lengthy explanation.
Fortunately—or perhaps inevitably—this time Jegal San was there to back him up, and the story itself had a rather plausible ring to it, so Dang Hwa-seo accepted it.
“Looks like you had a good time. I’m glad.”
“It was an amazing time!”
Mok Ri-won chattered on.
He spoke of how well he clicked with the man named Gwak Chil.
Of how they’d promised to share drinks and stories again tomorrow evening, and how he’d even declared he’d pitch their own tents from now on.
Dang Hwa-seo chuckled at that.
Thus passed the late night pleasantly.
It was the second day of the escort journey.
*
In the mountain pass linking Anhui to Wanhan stood a bandit stronghold of considerable size.
It was a hideout for bandits.
Yet contrary to the typical image of such a stronghold, the scene unfolding there was bizarre.
To call it a bandit hideout was too generous; it was utterly desolate and reeking.
The wooden fences had all collapsed.
The structures serving as houses were crumbling and tottering everywhere, with fresh red blood dripping in spots.
The smell confirmed it.
Where one might expect the musty stench of unwashed men or the stink of overflowing latrines, only the metallic tang of blood and the rot of corpses lingered.
There, someone had spread out a mat and sat.
“Bandit Lord. I’ve come.”
A man in black martial robes bowed deeply.
The man receiving the bow raised his head.
His appearance was equally bizarre.
He wore the same black martial robes as the one who had just bowed, but unlike the neat fellow, his was filthy beyond redemption—you could scour it with your eyes and find no cleanliness.
His disheveled hair whipped wildly, his eyes were bloodshot with sclera fully red, and his patchy beard gave him the look of a complete madman.
“Mokryong, eh? What a laughable name.”
The man laughed.
“For a mere ghost to impersonate a dragon—how could that not be amusing?”
His yellowed teeth flashed with his twitching lips.
The neat man who had paid respects bowed even deeper.
“You speak truly.”
“Indeed. Don’t you feel wronged? That a mere human gets to be a dragon, while we’re branded ghosts.”
The man’s laughter deepened.
His words dripped with grievance, yet his demeanor brimmed with delight.
“I want to be Fist Dragon, not Fist Demon.”
The man rose to his feet.
“So I must vent this injustice.”
The red glow in his sclera intensified.
Fist Demon Pae Ung-chu.
Breathing out air thick with viscous pleasure, he gazed toward the direction of the highway.
*
The escort journey entered its fifth day.
As the day passed without incident, the escorts’ tension began to ease.
Mok Ri-won walked along with an especially cheerful expression today.
“Little Sister, did you know?”
“Know what?”
“Night-luminescent pearls are actually made by splitting huge raw jade into uniform sizes and selling them! I thought they all started out the same size!”
“If you’ve never seen a big one, it’s natural to think that.”
“Have you seen a big night-luminescent pearl, Little Sister?”
Mok Ri-won’s eyes went wide.
Dang Hwa-seo chuckled.
“I did grow up in a well-off family, after all.”
Of course, her family home held nothing but bad memories, but the Sichuan Tang Clan was among the jianghu’s elite in wealth and prestige.
Thus, Dang Hwa-seo had seen most treasures worth noting.
Only then did Mok Ri-won nod with an “Ah!”
“That makes sense... I thought it was something to surprise you with. What a shame.”
“Did that man Gwak Chil tell you?”
“Yes. Master Gwak knows so much.”
“It must be the wisdom of years. He’s seen as much as he’s lived.”
It was a conversation they’d had these past few days.
Each evening, Mok Ri-won ran off to Gwak Chil, learned various jianghu tales from him, and relayed them to Dang Hwa-seo during the day.
Some she knew, some surprised even her, making their talks vibrant and varied.
“Well, that Gwak Chil fellow does seem to know a great deal. Even I’d never heard of the white-tailed fox spirit from northern Hubei.”
“Mm! That story was great! How about you join us tonight? Master Gwak’s a fantastic storyteller—you’d focus way better than just hearing it from me.”
“I’m fine. I like it this way too.”
This too was the invitation and refusal repeated these past days.
The leisurely journey in this peaceful atmosphere felt especially precious to Dang Hwa-seo.
Just five more days like this, and the trip would end.
As that thought brought a strange pang of reluctance—
“…Enemy.”
Mok Ri-won murmured.
His expression rapidly hardened.
Dang Hwa-seo swiftly expanded her senses as well.
‘…They’re there.’
A group had entered her qi sense.
The moment she realized it, Dang Hwa-seo shouted.
“Enemy—!”
The caravan halted.
The escorts looked puzzled at first, then drew weapons as the nearby bushes rustled.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Drums sounded.
“It’s the enemy!”
“Alert! Battle formation!”
The escorts’ cries filled the air.
Amid it all, one shot forward faster than the rest.
Mok Ri-won.
Shing-.
He drew his sword and charged to the caravan’s vanguard.
Black qi was already seeping from his body.
‘Killing intent.’
This was killing intent.
Not just any—it was the thickest Mok Ri-won had ever felt in his life.
His heart pounded wildly.
His breathing quickened beyond normal, and his thoughts focused to a single point.
‘It’s different.’
It felt too strange for mere killing intent.
Along with the sense of danger rose a murky comfort.
If he had to name it, it would be ‘ease.’
Puzzled, Mok Ri-won pressed to the front.
And as his instincts guided, he thrust his sword with all his might.
Kwaaang!
There, a blood-red qi wave had suddenly lashed out at the caravan’s lead.
Mok Ri-won’s qi repelled it.
A fiend burst from the bushes.
“Nice to meet you—!”
Hair wild and unkempt, the fiend clenched a fist and lunged at Mok Ri-won.
Mok Ri-won deflected it with his sword flat.
As their distance closed, as their eyes met.
Mok Ri-won’s heart sank.
‘…Demonic Qi.’
His instincts told him.
This was the aura of a demon.
Noon on the fifth day of the escort.
Mok Ri-won encountered a demon for the first time in his life.