Learning Mugong (1)
If grandma gets huge, total upvote lololol]
"Hehe."
I was messing around in the Hunter Gallery on my phone like usual. Watching the upvotes and downvotes roll in, I hit refresh, and then—
A random comment popped up out of nowhere.
What the hell is this?
I squinted at the contextless reply.
"Macro bot comment?"
Sometimes those sketchy Chinese ad bots show up. I'd heard lately they're even using AI to scan posts and drop plausible replies. Probably 'cause my username's Cheonma Punch, that's why they spat out something like that.
"Not even an ad, though."
"Vessel of the Heavenly Demon" or whatever—that was the whole comment. Probably a glitch or some test run.
Right then.
Thud.
Something dropped outside the door.
'Package already here?'
I remembered the one I'd ordered. Supposed to arrive tomorrow, though.
Eh, rocket delivery has off days when it's super fast. Guess the delivery guy was flying today.
Thinking that, I opened the front door.
"Huh?"
Sitting there on the doorstep was a single book.
But not just any book—it looked more like,
"Some ancient tome?"
An old, beat-up book wrapped in plastic lay in front of the door. Obviously, I hadn't ordered anything like that.
'Wrong delivery?'
I frowned a bit and checked the shipping label.
The clear plastic had a label stuck on it.
'That's my name?'
My address and real name were printed clear as day.
"Hmm."
Didn't feel right leaving it in the hallway, so I picked up the book and headed back inside.
Riiip.
Tearing off the plastic released that musty old-book smell into the room. It was ancient—the cover was ragged, pages yellowed and brittle. Looked like it'd crumble if I tapped it.
I thought about just tossing it in recycling as-is, but
"Gotta see what it is first."
Curious what book it was, I lifted the worn cover.
Flash!
"Whoa?"
The instant I opened it, a tingling shot up from my fingertips. Like faint electricity flowing deep into my guts—a weird energy spreading through my body.
And in that moment, a line flashed through my mind.
One post I'd seen in the Hunter Gallery last night at dawn.
You know that tingly weird feeling every time you open a skillbook? Stuck a tissue between the pages just in case and kept opening/closing it.
Now I can't stop... it's nonstop. Ngh.
"No way... is this that feeling?"
The signature sensation when mana flows in upon first opening a skillbook.
"Whoa."
More shocking than the fact that this beat-up book in my hands was a skillbook was that some random gallery post I'd scrolled past was actually useful in my life for once.
Anyway.
"Means this is a mugong-type skillbook, then."
Skillbook.
Twenty years ago, gates opened worldwide, monsters poured out. Lucky folks who awakened became hunters, farming dungeons for items.
Chaos at first, but the world adapted perfectly by now. Hunters were a legit job, top ones building skyscrapers in Gangnam and raking in cash like crazy.
For normies like me? A whole other world. Very few even had the aptitude, and elite hunters were rarer still.
"A skillbook, huh."
I swallowed hard, staring holes into the book's cover.
The worn pages made some letters faint, but readable.
Well, not by me exactly...
Click!
The translation app could recognize it.
"Cheonma... Shingong?"
The translated hanja confirmed it: a mugong skillbook. The first character was smudged under a stain, unreadable by the app, but the last four were crystal clear.
"Ooh."
Cheonma Shingong.
Just the name made my chest swell. Wasn't this the badass Heavenly Demon art from wuxia novels that smashed righteous sect hypocrites left and right?
My heart pounded like mad.
'This might be... a legit rare mugong manual?'
Normal way to become a hunter? Awakening.
Awakening.
Wake up one day, status window pops up, you get a class. But mugong's a bit different yet similar.
Difference: no awakening needed for mugong. Use a skillbook directly.
Similarity: 'No talent? Useless.'
If you're not the right vessel?
No Aptitude for This Skillbook.
Something like that, and poof—the skillbook shreds into nothing.
Stats say 99% have zero mugong talent.
So this thing in my hands? A 1% success scroll, basically.
"What to do."
I gulped, glaring at the book.
Learning it was simple: flip through to the end, system asks [Acquire Skill?] Hit yes, done. Implants straight into your brain.
"...Just sell it?"
Heart calming down, cold reality hit.
Cheonma Shingong.
Mugong skillbooks hit auction houses often, but "Shingong" screamed top-tier.
Shingong.
Ultra-rare among manuals. Priceless.
How much could I get? No clue.
'But damn, it's demonic arts.'
Looks like jackpot, right? Problem: blatantly Sapa (evil sect) mugong from the name.
Sapa arts had big risks. Kinda unhinged. Weaker under priest buffs, weird growth materials, bad luck stigma.
Crucially: learn Sapa/demonic, no Jeongpa (righteous) later. So most pick Jeongpa for life.
'But... a Shingong? Different story.'
I swallowed again.
Plenty hunters used mugong, but Cheonma Shingong? Never seen it.
Priceless name value. The Heavenly Demon's own—not some rando's. Overwhelming power smashing hypocrites. True man's romance. Path of domination.
Couldn't sell a Shingong cheap just 'cause demonic.
"The Heavenly Demon endures nothing."
I flipped through the pages in one go.
Heart hammering like it'd burst.
Last page hit, prompt appeared.
"Okay!"
I declared boldly.
Flash!
Blinding light erupted from the crumbling skillbook.
"Did... it work?"
I beat the 1% odds?
Before I could speak, a translucent system message floated up.
Your bones cannot hold righteous qi.
You utterly lack the aptitude to learn this mugong.
In short...
My pounding heart went ice cold.
Duh, right? Miracles in my life? As if. Guy who gets screwed on every gacha roll—thinking I'd hit 1% was delusional.
Deflating, body going limp—then the window flashed again, new text.
"...!"
Wait, does this mean...?
Oh yeah, I'd seen in the gallery: some guys total duds for Jeongpa but perfect for Sapa arts.
Me?
My cooled heart revved back up.
Now, shatter your old shell.
Undergoing Hwangol Taltae into the flesh of Nongcheonma, perfect vessel for the ultimate art Cheonma Shingong!
"H-Hwangol Taltae too?!"
Hwangol Taltae.
Miraculous body reconstruction to match the art. Even geniuses train lifetimes without guarantee.
Just for learning it? Service like that? Shingong's on another level.
The power of Nongcheonma Shingong reconstructs your body.
Not seeing things.
Chest burning. Overwhelmed with emotion, I clenched my fists tight.
But one word kept bugging me since earlier.
"What's Nongcheonma?"
Kept saying Nongcheonma this, Nongcheonma that.
Then I remembered first seeing the book.
Something smudged, app couldn't read the first character.
Nongcheonma Shingong.
Not just Cheonma Shingong—a "Nong" tacked on front.
That hidden letter... no way.
My heart dropped.
"Something's wrong... guh!"
A bizarre sensation like my soul yanked out of my body.
"Wha... t..."
I blacked out, collapsing to the floor.
"Ugh..."
How long was I out?
Felt the cold studio floor chill. Body sore yet refreshed, like after an intense massage.
"Huh...?"
Trying to sit up, my view was off. My rundown apartment, sure—but everything looked huge. Table, fridge, even the doorknob.
And why's my body so light? Wait, before that—my clothes?
Track pants sagging to my ankles, T-shirt draping to my knees.
Something was seriously wrong—instinct chilled my spine.
Grabbing the loose fabric, I bolted to the bathroom.
Standing on tiptoes to peer in the sink mirror.
"...Who are you?"
A stranger's beautiful little girl stared back.
Waist-length glossy black hair. Blood-red eyes eerie yet captivating. Age maybe ten? Porcelain-pale skin like never seen sun. Cheeks soft and puffy like rice cake.
Trembling hand to my cheek.
The girl in the mirror mimicked blankly.
Squishy.
"No way..."
My voice—gone. Replaced by a clear, childish girl's voice like rolling jade beads echoing in the bathroom.
Glanced down.
Inside the baggy T-shirt, between my legs.
Empty.
My 20+ year companion, my precious little brother... vanished without trace.
That message line flashed back.
This is Hwangol Taltae?
Locking eyes with the mirror's red gaze, a single tear rolled down my cheek.
"Give it back..."