Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 12: In the Jianghu, One's Body is Not One's Own (1) In Sinheung County, three young bastards were notorious as the Three Dogs of Sinheung. They were a pack of curs that prowled the streets, tormenting the local populace.
The first was the Mad Dog.
He had learned his martial arts from thugs of the Black Path. Having the least refined background, he was the weakest of the three. However, he was famous for being the most cruel and heartless, possessing a temperament akin to a rabid beast.
The second was the Smiling Dog.
This fellow was the youngest squad leader of the White Dragon Gang. He was always seen wandering about with a vacant smirk, perpetually high on Dream Soul Powder. Though he appeared friendly, he was Sinheung's premier junkie, constantly peddling and encouraging the use of the drug to everyone around him.
Then there was the Resentful Dog, Jeon Tae-gwang.
He was the youngest disciple of Shin Ja-eon, the Sect Leader of the Severing Sword Sect and one of the three greatest experts in Sinheung County. Thanks to his prestigious master, his martial arts were formidable, and he acted as the leader of the Three Dogs.
He also possessed another title.
People referred to the four direct disciples of the Severing Sword Sect Leader as the Four Severing Swords. The eldest was the Great Severing Sword, while the second and third were the Middle and Small Severing Swords, respectively.
However, the youngest, Jeon Tae-gwang, was mockingly called the Weak Severing Sword. It was said he was exceptionally frail compared to his three seniors. Deeply resentful of his master and brothers, he vented his pent-up frustrations by committing all sorts of atrocities in the outside world.
One day, while the three of them were out harassing people as usual, rumors of Yeon So-wol reached their ears.
—"Have you heard about that woodcutter from Annam, Yeon So-wol? They say he's become the adopted son of the Great Hero Lee Yu-baek."
—"Is that true? A woodcutter from Annam really struck it rich, didn't he?"
—"I heard the story exactly as it happened. They say Great Hero Lee Yu-baek told him, 'Your talent is so immense that I cannot teach you myself. Instead, I shall become your foster father and support you! Go out into the wider world and find a proper master!'"
—"Lee Yu-baek said that? Wait, isn't he a true expert recognized even in big cities like the provincial capital or Foshan? And he said he wasn't good enough?"
—"That's why it's so shocking."
—"Bullshit. What an exaggeration. He's eighteen and just started his training; as if that actually happened."
—"Who do you think you're talking to with that foul mouth?"
—"What? You got a problem?"
—"You crazy bastard..."
—"But isn't it even more impressive that he started at eighteen? I don't know, it sounds incredible to me."
—"It's impressive, sure, but don't go overboard with the praise."
—"Dammit. If we don't praise a man who started at eighteen, got recognized by Sinheung's greatest expert, and became his adopted son, then who the hell should we praise?"
—"What? 'Dammit'? You want to die?"
—"Oh, did you hear that? I was just talking to myself."
—"You toad-faced prick..."
—"Hey, hey! If you're going to fight, take it somewhere else!"
The voices drifted over to where the Three Dogs were playing tiles.
The first to react was the perpetually angry Resentful Dog, Jeon Tae-gwang.
"What a load of shit. These ignorant peasants don't know the first thing about martial arts. What do they expect from a brat who started at eighteen? Do they even know what internal energy is? Do they know what a mental cultivation method is? What? Lee Yu-baek said he couldn't teach him because he lacked the skill? What a fucking joke."
The Smiling Dog giggled.
"Still, he's Lee Yu-baek's sworn brother... no, adopted... son? Haha. Why is that so confusing? Anyway, yeah. It seems true that he became the adopted son. I wonder if he likes Dream Soul Powder too?"
The Mad Dog took a pinch of Dream Soul Powder from the Smiling Dog, snorted it, and sneered.
"Wow, he's really moving up in the world. For a barbarian from Annam, he sure landed a rich father like Lee Yu-baek."
At first, it was just a passing interest.
However, everywhere they went, the talk of Yeon So-wol continued.
—"That Yeon So-wol. I heard he was recognized as a Second-rate Martial Artist by Great Hero Lee Yu-baek."
—"Second-rate? Does that even make sense?"
—"I couldn't believe it either, so I asked someone from the Pungryu Martial Arts Hall directly. They said it's true."
—"No, that really makes no sense. A friend of mine has been training like a dog since he was ten. He spent ten years doing nothing but training, and he quit because he was still called Third-rate. But a guy who started at eighteen is already Second-rate?"
—"Hah. If that's true, he's a genius. A once-in-a-century talent. If only he'd started three years earlier!"
The Resentful Dog snapped in irritation.
"Second-rate, my ass. When Lee Yu-baek says Second-rate, isn't he talking about that Breath of Smoke and Clouds stage?"
"Right, right. Breath of Smoke... no, Smoke and Clouds. Or... ugh, I'm fading. Anyway, that thing."
"Does that make any fucking sense? A brat who's been at it for six months has reached the Breath of Smoke and Clouds? Do they think internal energy cultivation is some kind of joke?"
"Wow. Breath of Smoke and Clouds in six months? How long did it take me? About five years? Man, he really is a genius. If he started at eighteen and reached that level, he's not a once-in-a-century talent—he's a once-in-a-millennium talent."
The Mad Dog began to share in the Resentful Dog's irritation. His eyes gleamed with a predatory light.
Even after that, they continued to hear about Yeon So-wol. In the inns, at the cockfighting pits, in the pavilions, at the markets, and by the wells.
—"So, is he going to become one of the Four Gentlemen of Pungryu now?"
—"Then what should we call him?"
—"Let's see. The first is Pungryu-rang, the second is Jilpung-rang, and the third is Cheongpung-rang. So Yeon So-wol is..."
—"Since he's the new guy, how about Sin-rang (New Gentleman)?"
—"Isn't that the word for a groom at a wedding?"
—"Ah."
—"Did you offer your brain as a sacrifice at Gugeunsa Temple?"
—"...That's a bit harsh. My feelings are hurt."
—"I didn't ask."
—"..."
—"But what should we call him? Can't we just call him the Woodcutter of Annam?"
—"That sounds about right."
—"'The Woodcutter of Annam' is too long. Let's just shorten it to 'Annam.'"
—"You guys are too much."
The Resentful Dog's hands trembled.
"A nickname? They're worrying about a nickname for him? For a brat who just started martial arts?"
He felt like he was going to go mad with jealousy. Fortunately, no proper nickname had stuck yet, but the mere fact that people were contemplating one was enough to make his skin crawl.
The Mad Dog felt the same.
"Wow, fuck. Seriously. I'm so damn jealous. I crawled through the gutters and fought tooth and nail just to survive, and all they gave me was the nickname 'Mad Dog.'"
The Smiling Dog still didn't have much of a thought.
"Maybe that Annam guy really likes Dream Soul Powder too? That would be great. Then we could call him the Dream Soul Gentleman. Hehe."
The three curs of Sinheung each etched Yeon So-wol's name into their hearts in their own way.
*
Lee Yu-baek said, "So-wol, resting is also a part of training. Your Essence, Qi, and Spirit have undergone a transformation greater than a caterpillar becoming a butterfly in less than half a year. Imagine the state your body is in. Even iron must be cooled after being heated to become strong. For the next month, let's rest and stick to basic training. It would be best to take the elixir I gave you a month from now, after you've begun learning movement techniques."
Thus, Yeon So-wol's period of rest began.
He spent his time at the Pungryu Martial Arts Hall, building a bond with Lee Yu-baek as father and son. To So-wol's surprise, they got along famously.
"So-wol, try this on."
One day, Lee Yu-baek brought him a white, single-layered outer robe.
So-wol put on a light blue martial robe that was sleek in the sleeves and fit him perfectly, then draped the thin, white robe over it. The faint blue from underneath bled through the white fabric, creating a sophisticated, ethereal look.
"And how about this?"
He held out a thin, long red cord.
"It's called a Sajo cord. Here, you tie it like this on the inside before putting on the outer robe, and you wear your sword here. The sword is then subtly hidden by the folds of the robe. However, since you don't know how to handle a sword yet, I'll give you a wooden one. It's a wooden sword I carved myself from ebony."
Once fully dressed, Yeon So-wol looked at his reflection in a polished bronze mirror.
The white robe, with its hint of blue, hung from his shoulders, and the light blue martial robe was visible through the open front. Over it, the dark red but thin cord was tied, drawing the eye, while the pitch-black wooden sword hidden beneath the robe swayed slightly from the Sajo cord.
His hair, which had grown quite long, was tied up in a topknot and secured with a bamboo crown.
Everything had been prepared by Lee Yu-baek.
Wow.
Yeon So-wol marveled at his reflection, turning this way and that.
Is this silk? Real silk. I never even got to wear this back in Korea.
Here, people used the word myeongju more than silk. They also called it gyeon. Among those, the thinly woven variety was called sa (gauze).
Clothes made of gauze were as light as paper. The texture was crisp yet clung comfortably to the skin, and the color had a subtle elegance he had never seen before.
Is this the life of the rich?
So-wol felt a surge of satisfaction. Even in South Korea, he had dreamed of working hard and becoming successful. He thought he would never achieve that dream after falling into this barbaric martial world, but...
It's not bad.
Good clothes. A good house. A clean and fragrant environment. It was quite nice. At this rate, he felt he could live a pretty decent life.
"Um, Hall Mas—ahem. Father."
"Yes, So-wol."
The word "father" still didn't roll off his tongue easily, but So-wol had grown quite fond of Lee Yu-baek. Lee Yu-baek also treated So-wol with more ease than before. People with similar tastes tended to become close quickly.
"Father, you've gifted me clothes, medicinal herbs for washing, and oils and salves to make my skin and hair smooth. You've also taught me how to wear them properly, how to wash well using them, and how to apply them to my skin and hair."
"I did."
"I am truly grateful. However, there is one thing I am curious about."
"Don't beat around the bush. Speak."
"Scents. Incense. The incense you burn, the sachets you carry, the scents you apply. Whatever kind they are. I've always been curious. Since you haven't taught me about that specifically, I've remained curious."
Yeon So-wol's eyes sparkled.
Scents. It was the thing he had become most obsessed with since falling into the martial world. In a world filled with stench, So-wol had come to realize just how much the 21st century was naturally surrounded by fragrances.
Shampoo had a scent, detergent had a scent, fabric softener, dish soap—even bathrooms had air fresheners. The cleaners used for buildings and windows had scents, floor wax had a scent, and even tap water had its own distinct smell. They all had deodorizing effects. Even excluding actual perfumes, it was a world overflowing with fragrance.
That was the 21st century.
That was why So-wol had become obsessed with scents here. The incense burned in his room and the sachets he carried were a kind of barrier, a talisman. A defensive shield of fragrance that protected him from the external stenches.
In fact, from the moment he first met Lee Yu-baek, hadn't he been impressed by that characteristic, slightly sweet lemon scent? So-wol wanted a fragrance like that for himself.
Lee Yu-baek laughed.
"So-wol."
"Yes."
"You already have a good scent. It's thanks to your excellent Breath of Smoke and Clouds."
"That alone makes it difficult to push away the surrounding stenches."
"So-wol."
"Yes."
"True fragrances are incredibly expensive. They are worth more than their weight in gold. They are so expensive that even for my son, I cannot easily part with them."
It was a blunt statement, but So-wol wasn't flustered in the least. He had no intention of shamelessly asking for them for free anyway.
"Please, just give me the information. I have money too."
Lee Yu-baek laughed again.
"A scent is a person's unique trace. Two people cannot share the same trace. I would rather teach you martial arts than give away my scent."
So-wol was a bit disappointed, but he didn't let it show.
Right. It'll be more meaningful if I find my own scent. I should visit Elder Jo Man-seok after a long time and ask for his advice on fragrances.
He steeled his resolve.
"I see. In that case, I shall find a scent of my own. A scent that will never lose to yours, Father."
"Yes, you should."
The gazes of Yeon So-wol and Lee Yu-baek met intensely in the air.
*
The streets of Sinheung County.
A young man walked down the road.
He was unusually tall and exceptionally handsome. His robes and sleeves fluttered grandly along his long limbs. Beneath the outer robe, a red Sajo cord tied over a light blue martial robe was faintly visible, and the black wooden sword hanging from it peeked out occasionally.
Furthermore, the bamboo crown securing his topknot was a style of dress that commoners wouldn't dare dream of.
But more than that, every time his robes swayed, a fragrant scent—one that could never be found on these streets—wafted out.
"Wow..."
"What in the world is that?"
"He's so handsome."
"That's him, right? The one who became Great Hero Lee Yu-baek's adopted son."
"Yeah. Yeon So-wol from Annam."
"His stride is so dignified, and his eyes are so bright. He looks like a man of great learning."
"Wow. He lives in a different world than us."
The women were entranced, and the men expressed their awe. One of them let out an exclamation.
"Young Hero Arang. He's so magnificent."
"Arang? Hah. That's a perfect nickname for him."
Taking the Rang (Gentleman) from the Four Gentlemen of Pungryu and adding A (Elegant), they called him Arang—the Elegant Gentleman.
As if the name pleased them, the name "Arang, Arang" began to spread.
And by chance, the Resentful Dog of Sinheung, Jeon Tae-gwang, saw this as he was passing by.
"What the... fuck. A martial artist should be judged by his skills, but they're calling him 'Arang'?"
Grit.
His face contorted in rage as he watched Yeon So-wol walk by with such leisure.
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