Chapter 1 - Chapter 1

Translator: Nox

I Am the Youngest Disciple of the Martial Arts World’s Mastermind - Chapter 1I Am the Youngest Disciple of the Martial Arts World’s MastermindChapter 1

Chapter 1

The Youngest Disciple of the Murim’s Hidden Mastermind

Episode 1

In the Murim, there is a thing called a ‘fateful encounter.’

It is the hallmark of the genre.

You fall off a cliff, and at the bottom, there is a spirit beast harboring an internal core. The noble you encounter at a courtesan house turns out to be a peerless master. You find a secret manual hidden inside a floor cushion, or discover a divine weapon thrust into the ground of a cave you stumbled upon after getting lost….

…But haven’t you ever thought it was all too convenient?

Why would those things be right there, at that exact moment?

It’s all because….

“Because I put them there!!”

Thud.

I let out a shout pulled from the depths of my dantian and set down the heavy hunk of iron I was holding.

“Ack, cough, cough.”

As I fanned away the billowing clouds of dust with my hand, the elegant voice of my Master echoed in my head. It was telepathy.

[Soso, why is your voice so loud? I thought you were a boiling chicken.]

“I’m sorry….”

[I’ve just finished boiling the chicken, as it happens.]

“Pardon?”

[If you’re finished with your work, come up quickly. Your senior brothers are waiting.]

“Yeeees.”

He really is a ridiculous Master.

I gave the mechanisms and formations I had just finished installing one last meticulous check before beginning my ascent.

This is Mount Heng, one of the Five Great Mountains, where it is said even flying birds lose their spirit and fall.

Even the Mount Heng Sect dares not linger near the Seven Peaks, which are shrouded in thick mist year-round. And on the highest of those peaks lives the Master I serve.

Rumble.

The mechanisms I had just inspected began to operate with an eerie sound.

“Wow.”

He called it an internal energy engine, powered by the profound principles of logic and qi. The fog surrounding the peak grew even denser.

“What kind of hermit is this…?”

Aren’t hermits supposed to be people who let go of everything and live in seclusion in the mountains?

My Master’s true identity is the hidden mastermind who toys with every fateful encounter in the Murim within the palm of his hand.

No sooner had I muttered a word than another telepathic message shot through.

[Soso. I told you to come up quickly.]

“Yeeees. Soyoung is coming right now! So please stop. My head is ringing.”

[Very well.]

So, if you’re wondering how I became the youngest disciple of this lofty mastermind of the Murim…

This story goes back several years.

When the weather was clear, the beggars would sit on the bridge to soak up the sun.

They said that was the only way to kill off the fleas that swarmed in their hair and clothes on damp days.

“Oh. It’s true.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“You’re a beggar too, why are you acting like that?”

“What kind of girl is even filthier than me…?”

“Hehe. Flea attack!”

“Gah!”

As I flicked a flea with a goofy grin, the beggar sitting next to me eventually scurried away first.

“I’m leaving because you’re disgusting…!”

“The nerve.”

We’re both beggars; he’s taking it too far.

I stuck out my lip and looked up at the sun.

Looking at the sky—something I never did properly in my past life—my neck didn’t hurt at all, though my eyes stung a little.

Being young really is the best.

So… one day, during overtime, I laid down for a moment on a cot in the corner of the breakroom. When I opened my eyes, I had become a beggar.

‘…Seriously?’

And not just any beggar, but a beggar in a Murim world.

At first, I couldn’t accept this life at all.

But I soon realized: this wasn’t a matter of whether I accepted it or not.

Humans are creatures of adaptation. And it seemed this body was perfectly suited for being a beggar.

I’d wake up after a long sleep, pick up some rumors on the street, and head to the grand shack late in the day to pass on useful information.

Through this, I learned a few things.

First, this world wasn’t just any Murim, but the world of a martial arts game I knew very well titled Descent of the Heavenly Demon: Submission of Ten Thousand Demons.

As you can tell from the title, the player character is a member of the Demonic Cult. A slave, at that. Though he eventually becomes the Heavenly Demon….

‘Sigh.’

It’s hardly a smooth path.

A world where the Orthodox, Unorthodox, and Demonic factions have all taken hits from successive Great Wars between the factions, leaving no power unscathed. Where else would you find such a chaotic setting?

The rest of the detailed settings and events were in a state of flux because they had been scrapped and revised so many times, but the reason I knew this was because…

‘Assistant Manager So! Are you done with the Chapter 3 story revisions?’

‘Ha… it’s not easy. If you could just give me one more week….’

Because I was one of the writers in charge of the story for that game’s development team.

That was also why I doubted whether this was a dream several times.

I had revised the story so much that I thought I might just be dreaming about it now.

But no matter how many nights passed, I was still under the bridge. So I had no choice but to accept it.

I was just a local beggar.

And looking at these short limbs, I was a child beggar who was eight years old at most.

I tried various ways to return to reality, thinking I couldn’t survive in this harsh Murim world with a body like this, but they all failed miserably.

Well, what else could I do? If it doesn’t work, I have to make it work!

In truth, the Murim has quite a few things in common with modern society.

Especially the fact that much is determined by the spoon you are born with.

In the Murim, there were generally three types of spoons.

The Martial Spoon, the Clan Spoon, and the Master Spoon.

‘First, the Martial Spoon.’

This refers to those with physical conditions excellent for accepting specific martial arts, like the Extreme Yin Body or Extreme Yang Body. Usually, you need a master to look at you to know for sure.

I’ll pass on that, treating it like an unscratched lottery ticket.

‘Next, the Clan Spoon.’

I’m a beggar, though. In a situation where I don’t know my age, birthday, or real name, there’s no way I have a reliable background. Disqualified.

‘Finally, the Master Spoon….’

This was the only possibility I could pin my hopes on.

‘…I have to find a Master who can protect me.’

A powerhouse from at least a prestigious clan.

Someone full of chivalry enough to take in a beggar child as a disciple, yet not so hot-blooded that they’d get caught up in a Great War and die….

As for how to find such a master….

…I’d have to find them myself.

“Ugh.”

But the bigger problem was that to leave the local branch and train in the jianghu, you had to be at least a One-Knot Beggar.

In the Beggars’ Sect, where rank is displayed by the number of knots tied in the sack carried on one’s back, I was a No-Knot Beggar with zero knots….

To survive until I became a One-Knot Beggar, I had to act like the neighborhood idiot.

Namely, the ‘I’m filth, so you better stay away!’ strategy.

“Flea attack. Flea attack.”

That was the reason I was honing my flea attack.

“The ultimate flea attack!”

This was my survival technique.

Just as I was fiercely refining my flea attack again today….

“Hey.”

“Ack, yes.”

A shadow suddenly fell over me.

Startled, I looked up to see a One-Knot Beggar, with a single knot tied in the sack on his back, staring at me. What was it?

“…….”

I hesitated before asking.

“Would you like to… practice the flea attack with me?”

“…The Branch Leader is calling for you.”

The One-Knot Beggar, unable to hide his disgusted expression, bluntly delivered the message.

“Hehe. Okay.”

I smiled like an idiot, dusted myself off, and headed toward the grand shack under the bridge.

‘Sigh….’

How many times has he called me just this week? He thinks I’m an easy target because I act like a fool, doesn’t he? Just you wait.

With those thoughts in mind, I entered the shack, and the Branch Leader, Wangcho, greeted me with a wide grin.

“Sogae!”

“Yeeees, Wangcho.”

“You’re here, you’re here.”

“Urgh.”

As Wangcho pulled me into a tight hug, a smell far more pungent than that of the other beggars wafted from him.

What gives? Why is he being so affectionate today?

“I-I can’t breathe, Wangcho!”

“Ah, right, right.”

As soon as I escaped his grasp, I saw a man sitting across from Wangcho who didn’t look like a beggar at all.

A young man with a striking face, dressed in a white robe, scanned me from head to toe and asked.

“Is your name Sogae?”

“Yes….”

Who is this?

Regardless of my puzzled expression, the man simply said what he had to say.

“I am looking for an expert in movement arts. Is it true that you are the fastest on your feet in Hunan?”

I nodded blankly.

“…Yes. I don’t know about movement arts, but I can run fast.”

I had one talent.

And that was… being incredibly fast at running.

I had relied on this and run amok trying to return to reality when I didn’t know any better, but I ended up getting caught by the Branch Leader and had been used for various errands ever since.

But to the outside world, I probably just looked like a scrawny little girl.

Sure enough, the man tilted his head and asked in a suspicious voice.

“I said I would buy information on an expert with fast movement arts. Are you not selling me false information?”

Wangcho quickly shook his head.

“Not at all, honored master. I am the fastest beggar in Hunan, and she is faster than me!”

The Youngest Disciple of the Murim’s Hidden Mastermind