Chapter Title: I'm Pretty Good at It
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The village had changed.
It had become a grand and mysterious work of art.
Is this... does this even make sense?
"Hey, village chief! You back? Eaten yet?"
Way off in the distance.
The neighbor uncle waved cheerfully with a bright smile.
Is he... making fun of me right now?
Tatata-tatata-tat!
I bolted straight over.
Then grab! I seized the neighbor uncle by the collar.
"What the hell? What is this?!"
He's definitely mocking me.
Not only does he hide insane martial arts, but also abilities I can't even imagine.
And while doing that, he mocks and ridicules me, who's weak and dirt poor.
Funny, huh?
"Funny? You think it's funny watching a country bumpkin village chief struggle to scrape by?"
"Huh? Village chief... what's wrong? If you don't like the weeding, I'll do it again."
What the hell is with this guy?
I was genuinely flustered.
More than flustered—his face looked scared.
Plop!
I let go of his collar with a flick.
But the suspicion and anger wouldn't fade easily.
My breaths came out in angry huffs.
"Ah... sorry. I just thought the village would look nice like this... If you don't like it, I'll fix it..."
"What's your deal?"
"Huh? My deal? I'm just here to farm, like I said."
"Your real deal!"
I bellowed again.
The uncle's eyes shook.
"Jin Cheon-u."
"Yes?"
"My name. Jin Cheon-u. Same family name as you, village chief."
"No, that's not what I—"
"Why are you so mad? Is the village not pretty enough?"
"It is pretty—too pretty!"
The uncle tilted his head.
His face said he had no clue.
"I mean! Does this make any sense? You build houses in a month flat! You clear weeds that'd take half a year in just five days! Does that make sense?!"
"Ah! That's why you're pissed? You think I'm some shady guy?"
I didn't answer.
Just glared.
But this guy brushes it off like it's nothing.
"I'm pretty good at mowing weeds."
Crazy!
No matter how good you are at weeds!
This is straight-up impossible.
"Sigh. Village chief. You ever tried farming?"
"Why change the subject?"
"You ever mowed weeds?"
"I'm not changing the subject!"
"Then watch."
He headed to the prettied-up weed patch.
Then stood there blankly for a bit, glanced at me, and bent down.
Going to mow weeds, but in one hand... whoa!
Shwick!
Swoosh!
Shwick!
Swoosh!
He swung the sickle at the weeds.
But not just any swing—he cleared ten times what one person could in a single pass.
His motions were fast, no wasted movement.
This guy... he's a weed-mowing master.
It's not martial arts.
Definitely not.
Even if I'm a total novice, I can tell that much.
Just in case.
If that sickle in his hand was a sword instead.
For a split second, a ridiculous thought hit me: he might've already reached the pinnacle of the martial world...
"Phew. See? With skills like this, clearing the village weeds is a breeze, right?"
"Uh... well..."
"Pfft! Look, village chief. Not to brag, but I've mowed weeds my whole life. Clearing a village like Martial Mystery Village? Piece of cake. Haha!"
No?
Am I wrong?
I suspected him for nothing... no way!
Swish!
Snap!
I pulled the latter half of the 32 Rogue Arts from my bosom.
Held it out straight so the neighbor uncle could see clearly.
"32 Rogue Arts? Martial arts manual?"
"Don't play dumb."
"Hmm. Yeah, I know it. Of course."
"Did... did you really leave this here?"
"Maybe."
"What kinda answer is that?"
"You told me not to play dumb. Can't play dumb if I don't know, so this is how it is. Gonna grab my collar again?"
"How do you read the text?"
"I learned, so I read it. You think all farmers are illiterate? Back in the day, I studied the Thousand Character Classic. What's the big deal?"
"This... so you really don't know about this...?"
"Told you, I don't. Too busy mowing and farming—when would I learn martial arts?"
Ah!
No?
This guy really innocent?
I've got four years as a rogue; I can tell if someone's lying.
And he really seems clean.
"Oh, right!"
"What?"
"You don't think... I'm some martial artist hiding my identity, here for some hundred-year-old master's hidden opportunity or whatever, like that Nine Heavens War God thing, do you?"
"No, not that..."
"Sigh. Listen, village chief. You're barking up the wrong tree. Me, a martial artist? I've held a sickle, but a sword... ah! I do use knives a bit."
What?
Swordsman?
Or bladesman?
He really is a martial artist!
"Wanna see?"
"You using a knife?"
"Yeah."
I took a deep breath and answered.
"Sure."
Now I might finally uncover the neighbor uncle's true identity.
A short while later.
Neighbor's house annex.
Tak-tak-tak!
Tatata-tat!
Chak!
Shwick-shwick!
Said he'd use a knife, and damn, he pulls out a real one.
A kitchen knife.
In a flash, he whips up stir-fried veggies, side dishes, and even soup.
"Eat up, village chief."
"This... is what you meant by knife skills?"
"Kitchen knife's a knife too. I'm pretty good with 'em. Hahaha!"
The neighbor uncle cracked that unfunny joke, then started eating.
Ah!
Screw it.
Whatever his deal really is.
Grrrowl.
Ran all night; now my stomach's complaining like hell.
Just eat first.
A well-fed ghost looks better when it dies... Gack!
"Gack!"
"What's up? You okay, village chief?"
"Th-this food!!!"
It's. So. Good.
Like, ridiculously good.
"Tastes good, huh?"
"I'm pretty good at cooking too. Haha! Dig in, village chief. Hahaha!"
What is this guy's deal?
Builds houses great.
Mows weeds great.
Handles kitchen knives great.
And cooking too?
Haa!
Screw it.
Just eat.
And so I devoured like a madman.
"Another bowl?"
"No. Ah! Ate too much—feels like my stomach's gonna burst. Can't eat more."
Five bowls.
This uncle really knows how to cook.
...That's when!
Schling.
The uncle drew my Dragon Sword from the table.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"Ah! Sorry."
"I'll forgive you this time 'cause you don't know, but a swordsman's blade is like his life. Don't just draw it. Could get stabbed."
"That serious? Man, martial world life's tough."
"Now you know—be careful next time."
Did I come off too harsh?
To the guy who even cooked for me.
He didn't know.
"But village chief, that sword new?"
"Yeah."
"How much?"
"Fifty nyang of silver..."
"Holy crap! Fifty nyang silver? Swords that pricey?"
"Told you. Swordsman's life. No telling how many times it'll save my neck."
"Ah, got it. But it looks weaker than my mowing sickle? You get scammed?"
"Haa! For real! If you don't know, just shut up. What do you know? This Dragon Sword's incredible. Geez! Whatever. I'm heading home."
"Yeah, okay. Sorry."
Farmhand bumpkin.
Daring to diss what might be the world's greatest sword?
Weaker than a mowing sickle?
Never talk to ignorant fools.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A month passed.
I've been holed up at home the whole month, training the latter half of the 32 Rogue Arts.
Dropped my suspicions of the neighbor uncle?
No.
Still suspicious.
More like half-believing, half-doubting.
Feels like he's hiding something, but maybe not.
Just, last time I was too hasty.
Need evidence, catch him in the act.
If he's deliberately hiding something, no way he'll spill no matter how much I pry.
So, need hard proof.
Whatever, that can wait.
For now, the 32 Rogue Arts latter half... sigh.
I have no clue what it's saying.
Read it over and over; I can recite it now.
Still can't grasp a single meaning.
No sense at all.
Weird.
To understand the latter half, I reviewed the first half a ton.
But it doesn't connect.
Nothing at all.
Feels like it's a completely different art from the start.
What do I even mimic without knowing?
Month straight staring holes through the manual, but no answers.
What now?
Give up?
Can't.
Ah!
That's why everyone says a good master matters!
The 32 Rogue Arts first half was basic功, nothing too hard.
Mostly repetitive body training.
But the latter half's different.
No wonder rogues who master it make a name.
It's truly profound and tricky advanced stuff.
Staring at the manual won't magically reveal it.
Can't ask anyone to teach me.
Keep this up, I'll just grow old and die.
What do I doooooooooo?!
"Hey, village chief! You home?"
Whoa!
Neighbor uncle.
Why's he here?