Chapter 1

A-Qing had become a wanderer of the Martial World in modern times.

This basically means she was someone who could compare two distinct civilizations.

Back in her hometown, the life of a single worker was a constant cycle of hard tasks and high annoyance, plagued by sleepless nights that wrecked her health.

But still, living wasn’t that big of a deal.

When you live alone, it’s bearable to eat what you want, more or less.

Most importantly, there were no dangerous threats to her life.

However, in the ruthless Martial World, this ancient land of China, things were different.

If you had no power and no money, you just had to die.

And so, for the past year, A-Qing’s life was a continuous grand struggle for survival.

At least the Han people wouldn’t draw swords just because their eyes met.

But in the Martial World, bumping shoulders meant one of them had to die—it’s a cutthroat contest.

Just so you know, when it comes to those deadly matches where one must die, they call it a “Life and Death Match” in the Martial World.

Living through this barbarism, it was almost impossible for a soft-hearted modern person to survive.

But A-Qing was still alive and kicking.

Of course, there were multiple reasons for this little miracle.

First off, A-Qing’s body was incredibly tough.

Thanks to rolling with the punches and maxing out strength during character creation, she easily survived the grueling early days.

Being in A-Qing’s strong and resilient body meant she was tougher than most men—with a body made of steel that never seemed to tire.

And most importantly, her unique constitution worked wonders.

A-Qing’s “Blood Poison Body” made her immune to all kinds of poison in this story.

Food poisoning counted as poison too, so she could eat anything without worry.

She could eat anything, really!

That’s how A-Qing survived.

Staying clear of those third-rate thugs, she fought over scraps of food with beggars.

She even snatched potatoes and radishes, getting beat up by farmers.

She kept at it for an entire year.

Now, she was inching into her second year in the Central Plain.

This was a significant milestone for A-Qing.

At this point, she might as well be considered a proper Martial World individual, right?

She could now walk around with a puffed chest saying she’d dabbled a bit in the Martial World.

It was high time she lived like a warrior, becoming more human, making real efforts.

Just recently, she collected a bounty for delivering the head of a notorious villain to the authorities.

She still vividly remembered her first stab, screaming and throwing up in panic, but now she’d sliced through necks and limbs like a pro.

At this rate, she was practically a top-notch Martial World thug!

Her chest swelled with pride—a newborn sense of accomplishment from barely surviving a year in the Central Plains.

Even someone like A-Qing would feel a surge of confidence about this time after a year of adventuring.

Of course, she wasn’t exactly sure if she was really into her second year.

That’s because A-Qing wasn’t marking days like a castaway or a kidnapped victim.

But it was warm spring, having survived a winter, so it was safe to say she’d hit the one-year mark.

Days of humiliation flashed through her mind.

The moment she’d opened her eyes in a bewildering world, there was very little she could do.

Could she dig up money from the ground?

Or barging into houses like in a video game and breaking pots right under the owners’ noses to steal?

Well, that was possible if no one was home, and professional thieves did exist for such things.

But robbing empty houses required more finesse than one might think.

If she’d known it was this complicated, she’d have stuck with honest work instead of dreaming of a life of crime.

Luckily, some elements were a bit game-like.

Killing someone meant cashing in for a payday!

In the Central Plain, there was a thing called a “money bag,” where you stashed cash.

If the owner disappeared, the next person to pick it up became the new owner, which meant if you knocked someone off, you could inherit their money bag.

Still, A-Qing was always broke.

She wasn’t a greedy bandit or killer, after all.

She only targeted the bad guys!

She’d remove their heads and deliver them to the authorities, sometimes scoring a bountiful reward—though that money was hardly lavish.

Once you step out the door, every meal costs you.

Exaggerating a bit, simply breathing costs money.

Of course, her miserable attitude wasn’t a surprise.

But today, she was determined to break free from that misery.

It was a day worth celebrating!

Her one-year anniversary!

“Hey, Jeomsoi!”

At A-Qing’s call, Jeomsoi dashed over.

There was a conspicuous birthmark near her nose.

You could tell this tavern wasn’t your run-of-the-mill place.

Jeomsoi’s big birthmark might look unusual, but it brought fortune.

The bigger and brighter the mark, the more her pay would soar. Jeomsoi’s mark told you how classy the tavern was.

“What’s on the menu today?”

“There’s nothing we can’t cook, but I’d recommend the chicken fried with dark sauce and oil—we’ve just received fresh chickens from the cockfighting arena, so they’re extra flavorful today!”

Jeomsoi adeptly recommended dishes.

Starting her career at fourteen, she was close to hitting thirty, and she could read her customers’ needs instantly.

Wearing her worn clothes that still boasted battle scars, she looked like a poor female swordswoman from the Martial World. Her eyes were slightly sunken, showing signs of tiredness, but her expression was far from fatigued.

A happy occasion must have come up, making her want to celebrate with a joyful customer, so with her humble outfit, she hoped for a good helping of rich food rather than just a little bit.

That cockfighting nonsense was just blabber.

Honestly, Jeomsoi didn’t know anything about that.

But it was only chicken they were serving, not duck!

She had to give enough bang for the buck for her customers to feel good.

As a level-two newbie in the Martial World, A-Qing was entirely clueless about Jeomsoi’s innermost thoughts.

All she knew was joy.

Chicken!

Fried chicken!

Korea’s soul food!

“Do you need alcohol too?”

“Yes! One bottle of their strongest stuff!”

“Then how about Bi-hong-ju? It’s brewed at a local distillery and, although it’s only a first batch, its kick is pretty different! Even some of the old-timers in the area rave about it!”

Saying it was only a first batch didn’t automatically mean it was good brew.

And bringing up the old-timers was plain deceit.

How could a bunch of beggars possibly know a good drink?

In the end, it was just fluff to make things sound good.

But that fluff was enough to lift guests’ spirits.

Jeomsoi was pure talent in hospitality, a real artist at serving.

“Here comes one serving of chicken stir-fried with sweet and sour sauce! And one bottle of Bi-hong-ju!”

As Jeomsoi yelled the order and hastily headed off, she wasn’t doing it to alert the kitchen.

Nor was it a double-check with the customer to ensure the order was right.

It was to let the other guests know what this customer had ordered.

The more expensive the order, the louder the announcement, and occasionally, if a big spender arrived, she would run outside to shout it out too.

But A-Qing’s order wasn’t loud enough for that kind of uproar; it was merely that Jeomsoi read A-Qing’s heart like a book.

A poor customer’s expectations were all too obvious.

Unaware of such consideration, A-Qing was grinning ear to ear.

Guests in the tavern noticed A-Qing and couldn’t help but chuckle.

They quickly grasped the situation, while A-Qing remained blissfully unaware.

A-Qing, now two years in the Martial World!

—

In a bygone era, a legendary group of heroes (think bandits) used to sing a peculiar song.

From the very first line, it was extraordinary.

Heroes don’t do studying.

But the age of mindless swordsmanship faded, and the era of seeking real martial arts knowledge bloomed, merging practice with study.

Higher levels of martial arts always connect to the truths of the world.

You couldn’t become a martial arts prodigy without contemplating the Dao and philosophy.

Nonetheless, the previous era’s top dog, the “Number One in the World,” had a soft spot for this tune.

His nickname was Great Master Mucheondae.

A terrifying moniker, indeed.

No matter how good you are, who dares to impersonate an emperor with such a title?

It’s like daring to challenge the emperor himself!

And in truth, he did.

The mighty emperor never shied away from a challenge; just whisper “revolt,” and shortly, troops from every corner of the land would swarm in.

What was the outcome?

Great Master Mucheondae still proudly holds that title.

Had he lost, he’d be dubbed “Revolting Scoundrel” or “Revolutionary Traitor” instead.

Great Master Mucheondae famously crushed thirty thousand of his foes, seizing the emperor’s collar to belt out an adapted version of his favorite tune atop the imperial palace.

Heroes don’t care about subtlety, you see.

With the whole world beneath them, who cares?

Even if their status was lowly,

Who could possibly obstruct their steps?

Thus, Great Master Mucheondae succeeded in redefining the relationship between officials and the Martial World, establishing a new law signaling mutual non-interference.

He became the patriarch of all Martial World individuals.

Following this, Great Master Mucheondae truly became legendary, leaving behind an immortal image as he achieved the famed “Ascendance.”

Not to mention, he penned the most beloved song of the Martial World—an artistic triumph of its time!

A true prodigy of the ages!

Yet, even this brought about an unwanted side effect.

Some individuals twisted the song’s message.

If heroes don’t care about subtlety, then that implies non-heroes are watching their every move.

So, if you’re looking over your shoulder, you’re definitely no hero, right?

A deeply distressed Great Master Mucheondae could only bang his head against the celestial walls.

And here is Jang Han, a fellow who fancied himself a hero.

He was dining with three of his sworn brothers.

Together, they dubbed themselves the “Qingha Alliance,” bearing a sense of pride.

Suddenly, he spotted a familiar face.

Anseongil, known as “The Grimy Fiend.”

Contrary to his appalling nickname, he looked quite normal.

But “Grimy Fiend” stemmed from his disgraceful deeds rather than his looks.

His main hustle was human trafficking, plus a little bit of everything nasty like robbery, murder, and fraud.

A true piece of work!

Heroes can’t stand evil; they can’t just let it slide.

But sure, if that evil happens to be weaker than they are!

Anseongil was known as an early peak master; Jang Han was merely at the latter end of the rookie phase.

Still, brothers could summon their strength when it truly mattered, so they weren’t about to let four guys just lounge around without taking action.

“Together we stand.”

Although each member of the Qingha Alliance was weaker than Anseongil alone, together, they were strong.

Since that was just who they were!

They definitely wouldn’t stand by idly when faced with evil!

As Jang Han calculated their odds, he finally steeled himself for action.

“Heroes don’t care about subtlety.”

The act of being indirect includes the potential ruckus they might cause in a crowded tavern.

But such trivial collateral damage was a mere nothing when it came to executing justice and eliminating the vile.

The Qingha Alliance exchanged silent glances.

Jang Han tapped the table three times.

In unison, the three brothers sprang into action.

---