Chapter 1 : It is the Heavenly Martial Body

Chapter 1: It is the Heavenly Martial Body!Here stood an utterly ordinary inn.

An inn so common that no one would expect anything special from it.

However, to the young man standing in front of it for quite some time, this inn held a very different meaning.

"Finally."

He seemed to have just reached the age of twenty.

Perhaps because he was naturally dry in emotion, his reaction was not particularly dramatic, but even so, the young man was clearly filled with deep emotion.

He had been an orphan from birth.

He had never even seen the ones called his parents.

He neither resented nor missed them.

No, it would be more accurate to say that he had no thoughts about them whatsoever.

"It took about ten years."

Everyone must have a job.

The profession Jin Seong-un, who had neither parents nor background, chose was that of an innkeeper's boy.

A simple job that involved greeting guests at the inn, serving food, and handling cleaning.

In truth, he had once dreamed of becoming a martial artist.

For someone with nothing, there was nothing like becoming a martial artist to overturn one’s life.

However, Jin Seong-un’s martial talent was utterly miserable.

He could not even master the basic Three-Talent Sword Technique that could be bought anywhere on the street.

Jin Seong-un was not foolish enough to covet the impossible.

He buried the dream of becoming a martial artist deep in his heart and simply lived diligently as an innkeeper’s boy.

Aside from the minimum cost for food and lodging, he had saved every coin faithfully.

Perhaps the heavens pitied him, for he was able to work under a good-natured owner.

The owner recognized Jin Seong-un’s diligence and ability, and when business was good, sometimes even gave him extra pay.

And the result was this moment.

This inn, which others might not see as anything special.

Jin Seong-un lifted the signboard he was holding in his hands.

It was a plain signboard with no letters carved into it yet.

He stared at it for a moment.

"A name, huh."

He looked up at the sky and began thinking about the name of the inn with even greater seriousness than when he had decided to name himself Seong-un (Star Cloud).

His eyes were so cold and his expression so stiff that he could have been mistaken for a martial artist about to face a life-and-death duel.

"An inn?"

At the sudden voice, he turned his head and saw two men who, at a glance, looked like black-path martial artists.

For the first time, a smile appeared at the corner of Jin Seong-un’s lips.

The first rule of being an innkeeper’s boy—when you see martial artists, greet them with a smile.

Even if they were black-path thugs who preyed on commoners’ lives.

"I’ll be opening for business soon. Please drop by, heroes."

The black-path men nodded with satisfied expressions.

Black-path folks often had a simple side, and being called "hero" usually put them in a good mood.

Once the black-path men disappeared, Jin Seong-un’s face quickly returned to its dry and expressionless state.

Of course—it had been a deliberately crafted smile from the start.

"Seong-un Inn."

Yes, this name would be the right choice.

Jin Seong-un went into the kitchen and took out a small, rough dagger.

In this world, it was rare for an innkeeper’s boy to be literate.

Even so, Jin Seong-un began carving the letters into the signboard without hesitation.

While working at inns, he had learned to read and write bit by bit.

Especially the characters for Seong-un (Star Cloud) and inn (客棧), which had been part of his life all along, needed no thought at all.

He dipped a cloth in ink.

After applying the ink over the carved letters, Jin Seong-un calmly surveyed the interior of the inn.

Everything that could be prepared had been prepared.

The tables and chairs he had bought from a failed inn were neatly arranged, and the cleaning went without saying.

There was just one thing left.

"Only the cook needs to come."

He had already posted a notice saying he was looking for a cook.

Jin Seong-un was an innkeeper’s boy, not a cook.

He could handle simple dishes, but this was an inn—he needed to serve food of a standard worth paying for.

If possible, he hoped for a skilled cook to come, he thought as he sat down at a table.

Just then—

"Is the owner here?"

Jin Seong-un jumped to his feet.

At the entrance of the inn stood a middle-aged man looking around inside.

He appeared to be just past forty, with a sturdy build and thick hands that somehow gave off the air of a skilled cook.

"Yes, welcome."

As Jin Seong-un stepped forward, the middle-aged man tilted his head several times.

"Is the owner not here?"

It seemed the man had mistaken young Jin Seong-un for an innkeeper’s boy.

Of course, that was not wrong.

"I am the owner."

"Oh, I thought you were the innkeeper’s boy."

"I’m both the innkeeper’s boy and the owner. You may call me either. Or even ‘innkeeper boy-owner.’"

"……?"

Is this guy insane?

Judging by his serious expression, it did not seem like a joke.

The middle-aged man stared at Jin Seong-un for a moment before nodding.

"Alright, innkeeper boy-owner. Did you perhaps buy this entire inn?"

"Yes, I did."

The man’s eyes narrowed.

For some reason, he looked around the inn again with a very cautious expression.

Jin Seong-un began to feel a strange sense of unease.

"Is something wrong?"

"Hmm…"

The middle-aged man let out a low hum.

Seeing this, Jin Seong-un became certain something was amiss.

This was an inn he had bought with all the money he had earned over his lifetime.

Considering its location and size, the price had been quite reasonable—he thought it was a good deal.

"By any chance, did you hear anything particular when making the purchase?"

"There was nothing like that."

"I see… is that so…"

A hint of pity flashed in the man’s eyes as he looked at Jin Seong-un.

"I am No Sang-won of the Sangwon Cloth Shop next door."

"Ah, so you’re my neighbor. I’m Jin Seong-un."

Jin Seong-un bowed his head politely.

He was disappointed that the man was not a cook, but good relations with neighboring merchants were essential for business.

"Don’t just stand outside, please come in first. At least have a cup of tea…"

"N-no!"

No Sang-won flailed and stepped back a pace.

It was as if he was showing a strong determination not to set even a single foot into this inn.

That made Jin Seong-un feel an even stronger sense of foreboding.

He decided he absolutely had to hear the reason.

"Well then, I understand. Good luck with your work."

Jin Seong-un had no idea what exactly No Sang-won claimed to "understand," but the man nodded and left.

He did not stop him right away.

During his years as an innkeeper’s boy, Jin Seong-un had gained a small bit of wisdom—human primal desires were stronger than most thought, and appetite was among the strongest of them.

Especially in the case of men with a sturdy build like No Sang-won.

Jin Seong-un calmly waited.

Until the sun began to set and it was time for dinner.

When the hunger of the hour would be at its peak, he boiled a bowl of noodles and headed to the cloth shop next door.

It seemed the shop was idle at the moment, for No Sang-won was fanning himself and staring at a go board.

"Sir."

"Whoa!"

No Sang-won nearly fell backward in his chair in shock.

Jin Seong-un caught him, then set the bowl of noodles down on the go board.

"What startled you so much?"

"Ahem, it’s nothing. And… what’s this?"

No Sang-won looked at the noodles with a guarded expression.

Jin Seong-un gave him the same faint smile he had shown the black-path men earlier.

"I thought you might be hungry, so I cooked these."

"Hmm."

No Sang-won’s wariness eased a little.

Yes, this was the proper etiquette.

When he was young, everyone did this—when moving in, it was normal to give neighbors rice cakes or noodles.

These days, it was rare; just exchanging greetings was considered enough.

"Ahem, I was just getting hungry. Thank you, I’ll enjoy it."

No Sang-won picked up his chopsticks.

At the same time, Jin Seong-un spoke.

"By the way, what secret does that inn have?"

"……"

No Sang-won’s hand froze mid-air.

So that was his goal after all.

It seemed he ought to put the chopsticks down.

At least, that was what his head told him.

But the timing was terrible.

It was just past the dinner hour.

The rich broth, the neatly placed garnishes—

The aroma was making his stomach growl loudly.

As No Sang-won hesitated, Jin Seong-un continued in a calm tone—though his words were anything but calm.

"I do not know my parents’ faces."

"……"

No Sang-won flinched.

Regardless, Jin Seong-un went on, recounting his life story in detail.

Anyone listening would see it as a tragic tale.

No Sang-won too had lost his parents young.

It was a harsh world for a child to survive alone.

Because he knew this better than anyone, Jin Seong-un didn’t feel like a stranger to him.

"Haa…"

No Sang-won let out a sigh.

Looking at Jin Seong-un’s face, he felt both fondness and pity at once.

As long as one wore the mask of a human, there was no way to keep ignoring this.

Finally, No Sang-won seemed to make up his mind.

"Don’t be shocked, but listen well. That inn… there is something there."

"And what exactly is that something?"

"A ghost."

"……"

Jin Seong-un stared at No Sang-won.

There were still people these days who believed in ghosts?

As if sensing his thoughts, No Sang-won spoke with an even more serious tone.

"This is no matter to laugh off. I have done business here for twenty years. Do you know how many times the owner of that inn has changed?"

"Well… normally, an inn doesn’t change owners much, so… once or twice?"

No Sang-won let out a short laugh, then held up all five fingers.

"What? Five times?"

Now that was worth taking note of.

But No Sang-won shook his head.

"No."

Jin Seong-un’s expression stiffened slightly.

No Sang-won continued in a tone as if to say, ‘Now you see the problem.’

"Fifty. After that, I stopped counting. Most who ran that inn could not last more than fifteen days. From the look of you, you must be from out of town and don’t know…"

He clicked his tongue.

It was as if he was adding that it was cruel to pull such a scam on such a young man.

"Most couldn’t make it past the fifteenth day. They’d be tormented by nightmares every night, until they were worn down and fled, raising both hands in surrender. Some even brought in spiritual masters or Daoist priests. Do you know what happened to them?"

"……"

"They too would inspect the inn briefly, turn pale, and flee. Ah, there was even this one time—a martial artist bought the inn. You know, martial artists have that inner energy or whatever, so their qi is strong."

"Yes, well…"

Jin Seong-un nodded.

No Sang-won lowered his voice even more.

"At first, he was full of confidence. ‘Where in the world are there ghosts? And even if there are, could they withstand my sword?’ he said."

"……"

"But then… he vanished. Perhaps out of shame, he fled in the middle of the night. A witness at the time said he had spent quite a while bowing toward the inn before leaving."

"Bowing?"

"I heard it wasn’t an ordinary ghost. That ghost… was also a martial artist! And according to the fleeing martial artist, it wasn’t just any martial artist, but rather…"

No Sang-won glanced around, then beckoned Jin Seong-un to come closer.

Just what was he about to say…

Feeling uneasy, Jin Seong-un leaned in.

No Sang-won whispered in his ear.

"A Martial God."

"Hmm."

Jin Seong-un began to think the story was going off into the weeds.

Honestly, he had been tense at first, but when he heard “Martial God,” all the tension drained away.

Throughout history, there had been many called Martial God.

All of them had been the top martial artists of their time—existences close to demigods who could collapse mountains and split seas.

"What kind of Martial God, with nothing better to do, would cling to an inn even after death?"

"My point exactly!"

Jin Seong-un spoke with sarcasm, but No Sang-won instead matched him with exaggerated agreement.

"Just how immense must that grudge have been!"

"……"

Jin Seong-un smacked his lips.

It seemed he really didn’t need to worry about this.

Jin Seong-un did not believe in ghosts.

More precisely, he did not believe in gods or any spiritual beings at all.

If they truly existed, wouldn’t that be too unfair?

What kind of resentment could they possibly have toward him to grant him such a life?

"Anyway, thank you for telling me."

Jin Seong-un left the cloth shop.

Watching his back, No Sang-won clicked his tongue.

Yes, people never understood until they experienced something themselves.

Thinking that, he began moving his chopsticks again.

He was nearly starving after talking so much.

He put the noodles into his mouth—

"Ptuh!"

—and spat them out immediately.

With a look that showed he had just experienced something truly horrific, No Sang-won cried out,

"See! You’re already possessed by a ghost!"

Jin Seong-un, who was walking away from the cloth shop, turned his head and gave a small smile.

"That’s my original skill. There’s a reason I’ve spent my life only as an innkeeper’s boy."

Being a cook was better paid than being an innkeeper’s boy.

Of course, he had tried cooking before, but he could not recall ever receiving praise—not once.

In fact, he had never avoided sharp criticism.

Noodles, even boiled in plain water, were usually edible enough.

Yet Jin Seong-un had a talent for making them so bad that people would spit them out immediately.

"I even once made a beggar throw up."

Jin Seong-un murmured as if lost in nostalgic thought.

That was also why he was so desperate for a cook.

---

"He’s a purer person than he looks."

Jin Seong-un pictured the plump face of No Sang-won.

The man had told him the “secret” out of pity and fondness.

Believing in the absurd existence of ghosts meant he was probably not a bad person.

Once he formally hired a cook, he thought, he would sometimes bring food over to treat him.

He was wiping a table when it happened.

Jin Seong-un’s head snapped around.

There was a small door leading to the backyard.

"Did I hear wrong?"

It had sounded like a human voice.

He stared at the door for a moment, then picked up a broom.

The thought of a ghost didn’t even cross his mind.

He simply considered the possibility that some beggar might have sneaked into the backyard, and he went to check.

Jin Seong-un had been courageous since birth.

He knew well enough that he was different from other people.

His range of emotions was unusually narrow, and he could count on one hand the times he had felt fear or sorrow.

During his years as an innkeeper’s boy, how many times had martial artists caused trouble?

Even when a blade was pointed right in front of him, he had never felt fear.

One black-path martial artist, impressed by this, had once tried to teach him martial arts—but abandoned the idea after realizing his miserable lack of talent.

At any rate—

Gripping the broom tightly, Jin Seong-un threw open the back door.

"……"

It was already quite dark.

The neglected grass had grown as tall as a man, swaying eerily.

"Is someone there? If you’ve come for alms, I can at least serve you a bowl of noodles."

There was no answer.

The yard was small, but the thick overgrowth made it hard to see.

He swept the broom through the grass, clearing it this way and that.

When he pushed aside the thickest patch of grass—

Jin Seong-un froze.

For someone whose face rarely changed, his expression grew a little stiff.

"This was here?"

A small storage shed, hidden under the leaves.

He was certain he had not seen it when buying the inn.

He stared at it for a moment.

He would have to check inside.

A beggar looking for shelter might be hiding in there.

Jin Seong-un took hold of the doorknob.

He hesitated briefly.

What if it wasn’t just a beggar, but one who knew martial arts?

Jin Seong-un was already assuming someone was inside.

He had no proof—only an unexplainable presence he could feel from within.

As he lingered in thought—

—"It is the Heavenly Martial Body!"

The voice was so clear that Jin Seong-un’s eyes widened in an instant.

At the same time, the doorknob moved on its own, as if pulling his hand toward it.