The Outcast Writer of a Martial Arts Visual Novel-Chapter 165: An Unexpected Encounter - 2

“Are you from Joseon?”

It had been a while since someone asked me that just from seeing my black hair.

Usually, they’d start with something like, “Hey! You barbarian!” and then go, “Where are you from, you little barbarian bastard? Joseon? Where’s that supposed to be? Goryeo? Do I look like I need to know where some barbarian nation is? You’ve got some nerve.”

Or, “Goryeo? What a dumbass. You barbarian bastard, don’t even know the name of your own country? It’s not Goryeo, it’s Goguryeo, idiot.” Like some guy who hasn’t updated his mental map in a thousand years. I’ve met all kinds of freaks out here.

And yet, here’s a warrior with good manners, who even knows a thing or two about world affairs. This Daoist is winning points with every little gesture.

“My name is Kang Yun-ho. I’m from Joseon and currently run a bookstore in Yichang.”

Yeah, I’m Joseon-born, but I pay taxes here in the Central Plains.

Just in case, I tacked on a little extra explanation. You never know—he might be warm to those of our blood like the Pavilion Head, but cold as hell to barbarians, suddenly flipping his attitude and yelling, “Chosen-jin must die!”

“Oh, I see. Then... by any chance, would you be the one who wrote Storm o—...”

“We don’t have time! We have to get out of here, now!”

One of the Pavilion’s guards shouted before Cheong-un could finish his sentence.

“Not the time for personal questions, I suppose.”

Cheong-un bit back the rest of his words with visible regret.

Storm? What could a Wudang Daoist starting with “Storm” want to ask a Joseon person? Maybe it was something cliché, like Wind Deity and Cloud Scholar, one of those nationalistic martial arts staples? I was momentarily curious but didn’t bother asking.

The attacks had clearly ceased, but it wasn’t time to let our guard down. The immediate priority was to get the overturned wagon upright, tie up the surviving horses, and get off this mountain.

“Yes. We should help out.”

Fortunately, it seemed the impact had stunned them rather than caused serious injury. Still, we needed to help fast.

“To think demonic cultists would show up at the Wudang Sect’s doorstep... Do you know why they attacked?”

Cheong-un asked me as I was about to head off to assist the others.

“Well...”

“Cheong-un hero! We’re grateful for your help, but didn’t we say we can’t speak further since it concerns the Tang Clan?”

One of the Pavilion guards stepped forward before I could say more, blocking me from saying anything about Hwa-rin.

That’s the easiest excuse: “Family matters.” Just say that and keep the reason for the attack under wraps?

“......”

Cheong-un looked back and forth between the guard and me. His expression made it clear he was suspicious and dissatisfied. Not surprising—if you hear it’s Tang Clan business, of course you’d be wary. He might be thinking, Again? The Sichuan Tang Clan?

On top of that, it must’ve stung to help us at the risk of his life and then get told nothing in return.

Still, I could see where the Tang people were coming from too. If word got out that they were experimenting with Poisoned Ones, it could spiral into a major problem for the entire martial world.

We need Cheong-un’s help.

In times like these, we should’ve at least spoken with some tact. The guy risked his life to help out of goodwill. Can’t just brush him off with “family business.” I sighed softly.

If he walks away upset, we’re the ones who lose. We need that Wudang Daoist’s help to safely get Hwa-rin back to the Tang Clan. But we can’t just blurt out the truth about the Poisoned Ones.

So what should we do?

I’ve got a good idea.

I gently nudged the Pavilion guard aside and stepped in front of Cheong-un.

“The demonic cultists were targeting my close friend. She was subjected to a terrible experiment and is currently unconscious in that wagon.”

“Young Master!”

The Pavilion guard cried out in shock.

“How could I lie to the one who just saved our lives? Honored benefactor... They say she can still be saved if we get her to the Tang Clan. I know it’s shameless to ask, but would you be willing to stay with us until we’ve escaped danger?”

This is the kind of situation where you speak something that’s not quite a lie, but not the whole truth either.

Most of this was caused by the human garbage in the Tang Clan who wanted to carry out those Poisoned One experiments. If I told him the full story, he might think the Sichuan Tang Clan brought it on themselves and hesitate to help.

Better to avoid turning this into a black box crash video where we’re all sitting there calculating percentage blame. Just tell the crucial bits.

Tang Geo-ho borrowed power from the demonic cult. Therefore, Tang Geo-ho is demonic. We’re transporting a victim of those experiments to the Tang Clan.

Stick to just the essential facts, cut the fluff. That should be enough.

“If that’s the case, then I’ll accompany you.”

Cheong-un still seemed suspicious and didn’t fully drop his guard, but the urgency of the situation seemed to win him over. He gave a small nod.

----------

We hitched up the wagon again and pressed onward along the mountain trail.

“Is it alright not to go back and help the Pavilion Head?”

I asked one of the guards from inside the moving wagon. Thankfully, there was no sign of pursuers. I had no intention of going back, but I figured it was polite to ask—maybe the guards felt differently.

“He stayed behind to become a decoy for our sake. Returning to a deathtrap would go against his wishes.”

“I hope he’s safe.”

We may have had our issues, but in the end, he showed goodwill and chose to sacrifice himself. I hope we meet again. It’d be even better if he also vouches that I’m not some bastard child next time we do.

“We have to trust in him. He’ll have made it out.”

The guard averted his eyes, pained by the fact that he couldn’t say it with confidence.

After traveling without rest for over a day, we finally descended the mountain and reached a small village.

“The enemy could show up at any moment. We can’t let our guard down,”

one of the Pavilion guards said after securing us a room.

He was right. Let your guard down now, and you might end up eating poisoned food and collapsing. Then some random shopkeeper with a rotten grin mutters, “I was the Tang Clan’s traitor all along,” and we’d have to sit through that whole scene.

Or worse, a bunch of identical-looking guys yell, “We are agents of the Demonic Sect!” and swarm us all at once.

“Miss Hwa-rin will be guarded by us. Young Master Kang, please enter the guest room with Cheong-un hero.”

“I leave her in your hands.”

I was worried about unconscious Hwa-rin, but there was nothing I could do now. I had to hope the medical pros, the ones who take pride in eradicating disease at its root, would do their job.

Cheong-un and I went into the room assigned to us and started unpacking.

----------

“Hot water’s ready. You should go wash up right away.”

I said, drying my hair with just my pants thrown on.

“Ah! I... I’ll bathe before bed.”

Cheong-un glanced at me, then quickly turned his head away and spoke.

Is he uncomfortable seeing my bare torso? I mean, with all the internal energy massages, tonic showers, and regular training, I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Still, I guess we’re not that close, so I get it.

“If you wait until later, there might not be any hot water left. I’d go now if I were you.”

Hot water in a rural inn like this? That’s practically a miracle. I slipped into my sleepwear and added,

“Just a heads-up.”

“I’m fine.”

Well, nothing I can do. I’m not his mom. No need to nag him about bath times.

Still, that rejection made things a little awkward.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“You’re walking the path of a wandering knight—what a remarkable life. It’s been some time since I arrived in the Central Plains, but you’re the first person I’ve met like you. Thank you once again.”

I spoke to Cheong-un, who was still looking elsewhere, partly to lighten the mood.

No matter how I looked at it, he was a fascinating person.

Like that guy Yun Daehyup from Neungnammun—wait, was it not Neungnammun? Anyway, that guy only got called “Dae-hyeop” because he got old enough. He was really just Yun the Small-Minded.

Still, how could someone show up exactly in a moment of crisis? And not just show up—he fought so impressively it left me speechless. If I were a woman, I’d have fallen for him on the spot.

“It’s not a great deed. I’m simply choosing not to ignore a small thing I can do. Did you not also rise up and risk your life for your friend, Young Master Kang?”

Cheong-un looked at me and answered as if it were nothing. Even humility. And he calls me “Young Master Kang” instead of “barbarian.” What a personality.

Maybe in this world, Wudang doesn’t use Tai Chi Fist but Sun Fist—that radiant glow from behind is blinding.

“You mentioned you had something you wanted to ask. We’ve had a breather—if you still wish to ask, I’ll gladly answer.”

“My apologies. On second thought, it may be difficult to speak about, since it concerns my sect.”

Cheong-un averted his gaze slightly, as if something about my words bothered him. Was he annoyed because of how the Tang Clan treated him?

“Ha ha. It seems the Tang Clan’s attitude may have upset you. Please allow me to apologize on their behalf.”

“A-ah, not at all.”

Bingo. Cheong-un stammered slightly, like I’d hit the mark.

“The Tang Clan’s always been a bit closed-off. Given the circumstances, I’m sure it wasn’t personal. They’ve promised a proper show of gratitude later, so I hope you won’t feel too offended.”

“Hearing you say that does ease my mind somewhat. In that case... may I ask you something again?”

“Of course.”

“If you’re from Joseon... have you ever been to Mount Jangbaek?”

“By Mount Jangbaek, you mean Baekdu Mountain? I haven’t been there myself.”

I’ve climbed Hallasan, Seoraksan, and Jirisan, but never Baekdu. Since it's not in South Korea, I never had the chance.

“I see...”

Cheong-un’s expression fell with visible disappointment.

“Would you mind telling me why you asked? If there’s any way I can help, I’d be happy to.”

“Then... do you know anything about the Daoist of Mount Jangbaek?”

“The Daoist of Mount Jangbaek?”

“Yes. In truth, I’ve been traveling to find the Daoist of Mount Jangbaek.”

What the hell? A Wudang Daoist, traveling across the continent to find another Daoist in the far reaches of Baekdu Mountain? I’ve read a ton of wuxia novels, and it’s usually the Daoist from Jangbaek coming into the martial world—not someone from the martial world going there.

“I’ve heard there’s a sect that manages the Jangbaek Silver there.”

Jangbaek Silver—an ore more valuable than gold. Wherever there’s profit, dangerous people gather. And in such chaotic times, someone always rises up to control them.

I’d heard about it too, since I once used Jangbaek Silver as a last-ditch move to survive.

“Do you know which sect that is?”

“The Jangbaek Sect. I’ve heard rumors of a mysterious Daoist sect from that region.”

“The Jangbaek Sect... As I thought...”

As you thought what? Cheong-un mumbled to himself, a look of growing certainty on his face.

Come on, let me in on it. What is it? Why is a Wudang Daoist heading for Baekdu Mountain? Don’t leave me hanging—I won’t be able to sleep if this just ends here.

“‘Let he who wishes to claim the title of the world’s best come to Baekdu Mountain.’ Anyone familiar with Joseon’s martial world knows the saying, even if only in whispers.”

I added that line to keep his interest from fading.

“What a grandiose statement...”

Cheong-un looked at me wide-eyed.

“Ha ha. That’s because Mount Jangbaek is incredibly dangerous. A place where tigers and bears roam freely—throw in sword-wielders and you’ve got a real powder keg. Anyone managing that place must be no ordinary figure.”

He’d be stunned if he knew just how many top-tier martial artists Joseon’s wuxia world had produced.

Hwarang warriors and Haedong Swordsmanship. One shot, one kill archery. And when Joseon martial artists step into the Central Plains, they always carry a Hwandudaedo in one hand, with a blue hawk from Haedong perched on their shoulder.

That’s the dream. That’s Joseon wuxia.

Never look down on Joseon again, Central Plains!

I looked at Cheong-un with a proud smirk, and fortunately, he still seemed curious. He kept watching me, his interest ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) piqued.

Okay, come on, just tell me already. Why are you really looking for the Daoist of Baekdu Mountain? What business does Wudang have with him?

I gave him a small smile, waiting patiently to make it easier for him to speak—and sure enough, he finally opened his mouth.

“There’s one more thing I’d like to ask. May I?”

“What could I possibly refuse to someone who saved my life?”

Of course you can.

I waited for Cheong-un’s question... but sadly, it wasn’t the one I’d been hoping for.

“I heard that you’re a writer. May I ask what kind of book you’ve written?”