Chapter : 13
My Opportunity Is a Status Window (13)
White Tiger Squad
The next day, Gwak Eun woke up and didn’t seem bothered at all about her drunken antics.
A: “Well, I guess it happens?” kind of reaction?
Bold enough to ignore other people’s stares.
She’s definitely born with the temperament of a true warrior.
Time passed.
I entered the preliminary round for the White Tiger Squad.
The venue wasn’t the Murim Alliance headquarters but an open clearing outside Kaifeng.
A massive crowd had gathered, people swarming like ants.
Still, with plenty of guards keeping order and elite experts watching with sharp eyes, nobody dared cause trouble.
There were three preliminary events:
Lifting a boulder.
Breaking roof tiles.
Long jump.
At first glance, it sounds trivial, but the difficulty was perfectly set so that anyone who hadn’t learned martial arts couldn’t clear them.
“Number 184, Dancheon.”
“Yes.”
“Hold the boulder until the flag bearer raises his flag and you pass.”
“Yes, understood.”
Just looking at it, the boulder was as big as my torso.
I spread my arms wide, hugged it, and lifted it up.
‘Wow… ordinary folks wouldn’t even budge this thing.’
This rock had to weigh at least 150 catties, maybe up to 200.
To lift this without martial arts, you’d need to be some kind of freakishly strong ox.
‘Hmm?’
Quite a long time passed, but the flag bearer still hadn’t raised his flag.
I glanced sideways—same situation. All around, people began giving up and dropping their boulders.
‘Ah, checking who can circulate internal energy!’
They were filtering out the ones relying on brute strength.
Without inner power, no one could hold this thing up for long.
A stick of incense worth of time passed.
Of course, it felt twice that long. Heh.
— Flap!
The flag finally rose.
“Number 184, Dancheon. Passed!”
Success.
I exhaled deeply and set the boulder down.
Without internal energy? I’d have failed too. No matter how strong you are, you can’t endure that long.
Nine out of ten people tested at the same time as me dropped out.
Damn… the Murim Alliance’s business sense is superb.
They basically swept silver into their pockets.
Entry fee alone was nine nyang.
Those folks who just touched a rock and went home….
It’s basically donating nine nyang and leaving.
Not like they can complain.
They paid voluntarily, and the Alliance ran it.
Next trials.
Tile breaking and long jump were similar—set at a difficulty that normal people couldn’t brute-force.
But if you could use internal power?
Easily doable.
“Number 184, Dancheon. Tile-breaking passed!”
Passed tile breaking.
“Number 184, Dancheon. Long jump passed!”
One soaring leap later, I cleared the preliminaries.
Once long jump was done, the thousand-plus crowd shrank sharply.
‘About twenty, thirty left?’
Still quite a few.
I’d noticed several people circulating internal energy earlier too.
“All qualifiers, line up and wait! A brief interview and notice for the finals will follow!”
Interview?
What now…?
Talk to us and reject people if they don’t like what we say?
Man, getting through this is rough.
The qualifiers lined up. Their looks were no joke.
Makes sense—they’re the ones who survived the filtering.
When there were a thousand applicants, everyone looked mediocre.
Now, nobody looks easy.
— Tap.
“Hey.”
Someone tapped my back in a picking-a-fight tone.
Familiar vibe.
That back-alley gangster tone.
I turned to look—an extra-rough middle-aged man stood there.
His build was similar to mine. Rare for someone to match my height.
“What?”
“You’re from a demonic sect too, yeah?”
Demonic sect?
What the hell is he talking about?
And why is this big bastard whispering like a creep… so irritating.
“I’m not.”
“Heh… as if. You can’t fool my eyes, kid. Where you from? Poison Serpent Ridge? Iron Ox Gang? Don’t tell me… Black Heaven Tyrants?”
What… what is this fucker saying?
He’s rattling off names that scream “don’t get involved.”
A dangerous bastard.
He said “you too”—so he’s acknowledging himself as demonic sect.
I may be new to the jianghu, but I know what the demonic sect is.
Bad guys doing bad things.
Basically the criminal syndicates of the martial world.
So why is a demonic sect guy at the Murim Alliance White Tiger Squad screening?
Could it be…
As a spy?
“I said I’m not.”
“Heh, fine. No need to blab. I’ll keep mine quiet, too. You seem decent. Do well in the finals.”
Says he’s hiding it—while talking about it out loud in a line of people?
Is he stupid?
Judging from his face—maybe.
“Number 184, Dancheon! Enter!”
“Yes.”
The staff pointed to the fifth tent.
Great excuse to put distance between me and demon-boy. I hurried over.
Inside sat a stiff-looking clerk.
“Dancheon?”
“Yes.”
“Have a seat.”
“Yes.”
“Application form… your sect affiliation is blank?”
It’s blank because I don’t have one, idiot.
If I had one, I’d have filled it in.
“I have no sect.”
“Where did you learn martial arts?”
“I apprenticed under a master.”
“Transmission?”
“Yes.”
“What sect is your master from? Honorary title? Name?”
I don’t know, man.
I want to know my master’s name too.
He said he didn’t have one.
“I don’t know.”
“Pardon?”
“You don’t know your master’s name? And he’s your master?”
“Yes…”
The clerk smirked.
“Dancheon.”
“Yes.”
“You intend to enter the Flying Hawk Division, yes?”
“Flying Hawk?”
“Yes. The division that accepts people without checking background.”
Ahhh.
So that’s why that demonic nutjob showed up for prelims.
But why would the Murim Alliance accept demonic sect people?
“Had no idea. Why does such a division exist?”
“Ha ha ha. If you’re asking directly… well, it’s hard to say plainly. But surely you can guess?”
“No. I’m not familiar with the state of the jianghu.”
“Our Alliance is spreading its wings and expanding influence—so manpower is short. Consider that your answer.”
They’re expanding…
I see.
The Ming only pushed the Mongols north about sixty years ago.
During Yuan rule, many sects shut down, and the Murim Alliance existed in name only.
They recruited and acted quietly, but really just kept the flame alive.
Now that the Ming has stabilized—
With Shaolin’s Master Huigong as Alliance Leader—they’ve nearly reclaimed their former glory.
But they’re not the only ones growing.
The demonic cult entrenched in Mount Ten Thousand Greats.
Demonic sects scattered across provinces.
Independent martial groups expanding everywhere.
A turbulent era.
‘So they’re scooping up stray fighters—both to shrink rival forces and to use as disposable shields.’
I understood.
Flying Hawk—accepts anyone.
But no path for advancement.
Used as “blade fodder” and discarded.
And those who apply probably know this. They join because they also get something out of it.
A strange mutual balance.
Sigh… I don’t want Flying Hawk.
I want a normal division.
But that won’t happen.
Anyone can see my background looks suspicious as hell.
Depressing.
Low birth, dubious origins.
How long will it hold me back?
“Interview is over. Finals are tomorrow. Here is your entry token—be sure to bring it.”
He scribbled something on a note and filed it.
Probably his comments on me.
‘Insane guy who doesn’t know his master’s name.’
Something like that.
Oh well.
“Thank you.”
The token was lacquered wood.
Round seal with the character 通 (admitted) carved roughly in.
Anyway—first hurdle cleared.
Time to do well in the finals.
Finals day.
Prelim qualifiers: 42
Sect- or clan-recommended: 212
Total: 254
Lots of people—including Gwak Eun and Tang Jisang—gathered at the Murim Alliance gate.
Most wore flashy outfits.
Blue, red, navy—various colors, but all silk.
Handsome and beautiful to the point you wouldn’t think they were martial artists.
Raised like nobility.
Clearly elite prodigies from great sects.
There were ordinary folks like me who made it through prelims, but we blended into the background.
‘Oh… that bastard’s here too.’
The guy who asked if I was demonic sect.
A crow among swans.
Ruining the scenery.
He was a head taller than everyone, so I could see him easily—digging his nose.
Disgusting.
“Miss Gwak Eun, let’s move more left.”
“Hm? Why? We’re in the middle—good spot.”
“Well… the energy feels better on the left.”
“Energy?”
“Yes. I’m sensitive to earth qi. There’s… some demonic taint here—”
“Let’s go now!”
Right? Didn’t like the sound of that, eh? Hehehe.
We moved far left—far away from demon-boy.
Whew—don’t want to get tangled with him.
Good, good. Stay clear.
“Greetings. I am Woomeon-Gae of the Beggars’ Sect.”
At last, a man whose nickname “Cow Face” instantly made sense stood before us.
His long face really did look bovine.
“Ohh—Woomeon-Gae of the Beggars’ Sect!”
“It’s him!”
People murmured in admiration.
Famous, huh?
Probably strong.
“You’ve all worked hard coming from all over. Those who cleared prelims—well done. I’ll skip the chatter and explain the finals.”
He pulled out a brass stick, finger-length.
“This determines your fate today.”
“……?”
“We will call it the Pass Stick. There are 20 of them. Meaning only 20 can pass today.”
Twenty.
Out of 254.
Tough…
After sparring with Gwak Eun,
I no longer underestimate elite-sect prodigies.
Among 200+ of them, who knows how many are her level?
Definitely more than 20.
But only 20 sticks?
“We hid these sticks around Kaifeng.”
“……!!”
“But! Not the entire city. They are hidden around three key places. I will name them now. Retrieve a stick and bring it back to me—you pass.”
A treasure hunt?
What does this have to do with martial—
Right, right. Strength matters.
Couldn’t you just camp here and mug someone returning?
“And beforehand—violence between participants is strictly forbidden! We will not repeat the mistake of 8 years ago. Anyone caught using violence is immediately disqualified!”
So no muggings.
A real treasure hunt.
“Question.”
A neat young man in blue silk raised his hand.
“Speak.”
“Isn’t this a test of luck unrelated to martial skill?”
“If your martial arts are excellent, you’ll solve it easily. No need to ask. You’ll understand once you experience it.”
Woomeon-Gae glared, and those about to raise hands quietly lowered them.
“Now I’ll name the three sites! Kaifeng’s three great landmarks—
Xiangguo Temple, Dragon Pavilion Park, Yuwang Terrace!
Xiangguo Temple, an ancient Buddhist—”
“Go!”
“Run!”
“Don’t push!”
He tried to continue explaining, but the moment he named the sites everyone bolted.
No one needed to hear more.
It’s a race now.
“Dancheon! Which way!?”
“Dragon Pavilion Park!”
“Yes!”
“Yes!”
My choice: Dragon Pavilion.
Most will go where? Xiangguo Temple!
Where will demon-boy run? Yuwang Terrace!
So I go—Dragon Pavilion!
Who knows if it’s smart.
But for now, it’s my best bet.
Let’s go!
Hunt that stick.
