Urban Vagabond: Reload

Gu Hyeonwoo carefully brushed the hair away from his daughter’s forehead as she slept soundly in his arms.

KHOO...... KHOO......

Seeing her swollen eyes still stained with dried tears, and her face worn out from crying herself to sleep, he finally felt it—he’d survived.

“Pretty kid. Wonder whose daughter she is, huh?”

“This bastard can’t even see the guy who brought his daughter here.”

The fat manager he’d met in the underground arena, Lim Jeongsik, grumbled as his thick cheeks twitched.

The moment he got the call from Kim Muhyuk, he’d grabbed Gu Jiu and come running without a second’s delay.

He glared at Gu Hyeonwoo’s surgically repaired arm, then spoke with a deep frown.

“Jeez. You were already unpopular, and now you’re a one-armed cripple too...... Don’t even think about showing your face in the underground arena ever again!”

The usual stream of curses and verbal abuse.

Gu Hyeonwoo looked at Lim Jeongsik with the same warm gaze he’d been using on his daughter.

His eyes were still smiling, gentle as ever.

“Jeongsik. Thanks. For everything.”

“Th-thanks my ass. You’ve been eating my insults for years—don’t you have any pride at all?”

Gu Hyeonwoo chuckled at the rare sight of Lim Jeongsik flustered.

He knew Lim Jeongsik had deliberately started cussing at him first, to cover for him in front of the underground arena’s administrators.

The only reason a martial artist with that strange conviction—refusing to kill—had been able to make money in that place... was Lim Jeongsik’s unseen consideration.

“Are you stupid? You lose an arm and you’re laughing?”

“Who cares about an arm? I almost died, and I lived. I got to see my daughter again. And I found a way to fix Jiu’s severed meridian condition.”

“......That’s a relief.”

Lim Jeongsik let out a sigh at Gu Hyeonwoo, still the same hopelessly doting dad.

“Anyway, I heard your arm surgery went well. Couple months of rehab and you’ll be able to use martial arts again.”

“......I owe AZURE SKY SWORD GATE a lot.”

“Tell me about it. I almost passed out earlier when I saw the sect leader of AZURE SKY SWORD GATE. What the hell happened?”

Gu Hyeonwoo shook his head.

He’d talked a lot with Kim Muhyuk while escaping the cave, but he hadn’t heard anything about AZURE SKY SWORD GATE.

“I don’t really know either. And if you lived clean, what would you even have to be scared of?”

“What, you little shit? Now that you’re quitting the arena, you’re really gonna talk back to me, huh?”

They talked like that for a while, about this and that.

After he’d even taken down his sect’s signboard just to pay off that massive debt, Lim Jeongsik was basically the only friend Gu Hyeonwoo had left.

“......So when are you heading to Seoul?”

At Lim Jeongsik’s sharp question, Gu Hyeonwoo gave an awkward smile.

He couldn’t live on Jeju Island anymore.

The Tamra Alliance alliance leader was dead, but after getting on the bad side of that enormous organization, retaliation would come—one way or another.

Still, Gu Hyeonwoo didn’t cling to it.

He wanted to throw away every ugly memory and start over somewhere else.

“I’m going to wrap up the sect’s remaining affairs and move right away. I think it’ll be better for Jiu too.”

“And you’ve got a way to make a living in Seoul?”

“Fortunately, AZURE SKY SWORD GATE thinks well of me......”

Gu Hyeonwoo was going to take AZURE SKY SWORD GATE’s support money and open a basic swordsmanship academy to teach kids.

He’d teach them properly from the ground up, and it would become an academy that prioritized training young rising stars in the direction AZURE SKY SWORD GATE wanted.

It was a win-win contract—for both Gu Hyeonwoo, a pinnacle swordsman, and AZURE SKY SWORD GATE.

“I can’t really teach properly until my arm’s fully recovered, but thankfully, AZURE SKY SWORD GATE said they’d support me in all sorts of ways until then.”

Lim Jeongsik listened quietly, then nodded.

“Good call. With your skill, you’ll find a way to eat in Seoul no matter what. Honestly, you should’ve gone ages ago. What was so special about the sect your dad left you, that you clung to it until it turned into this?”

“Yeah. It’s not like having debt means you can’t move. It was all just excuses.”

Gu Hyeonwoo glanced out the window with a lighter expression, then turned back to Lim Jeongsik.

“When I open the academy, come by sometime. If it gets big, I’ll make you something like Head of Public Relations. You can even come settle in for good.”

“Bullshit. Why would I go somewhere that’ll go bankrupt in a couple years?”

Lim Jeongsik snorted, then lowered his voice after sweeping his gaze around the room.

“That guy named Kim Muhyuk...... he’s the Goggle Killer, right?”

He’d been shocked when he arrived at the hospital and saw Gu Hyeonwoo with his arm gone.

But he’d nearly screamed when he saw Kim Muhyuk’s face—far more wrecked than that.

Then he’d remembered Gu Hyeonwoo saying he was going into the cave with the Goggle Killer, and the pieces had fallen into place.

Right then, the Azure Sky Sword Elder had quietly come over and given him a warning—and even now, just thinking about it made his heart pound.

“Pretend you didn’t see anything today. That’ll be easier on you, too.”

With the sect leader of one of the Eight Great Sects personally sealing his mouth, Lim Jeongsik had no intention of letting a single word slip—even with a blade at his throat.

But curiosity was another matter.

A young rising star who’d set an unprecedented record by becoming a pinnacle expert in the first official martial-artist license exam... was the Goggle Killer from the underground arena.......

“Who knows. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gu Hyeonwoo grinned as he continued.

“If you ever run into that guy Kim Muhyuk again, do everything you can to stay on his good side. The whole world is going to know his name soon.”

If anyone asked him to bet, Gu Hyeonwoo could’ve put his entire fortune on it.

The martial arts Kim Muhyuk had shown while escaping the cave, the way he’d cut enemies down while wielding Phantom Dream—those sights were truly......

“Sword Ghost. He might not think so himself...... but that’s the only word I can think of.”

“So is that a yes or a no?”

“I told you. I don’t know.”

Gu Hyeonwoo shrugged once, then stroked his daughter’s hair again, playing coy.

*****

I spent a few days treating my injuries, finished a short trip on Jeju Island with my family, and then went home.

But the tail end of that Jeju trip hadn’t been smooth at all.

“Muhyuk, you little punk! When we get back, you’d better be ready!”

Choi Geon joined late on Jeju Island, and the moment he saw his disciple lying in a hospital bed, he started pouring out scolding after scolding.

At the tourist spots we visited together, at every meal, even on the flight home—he nagged me until my ears could’ve grown calluses.

“Good, Teacher! Scold him harder!”

“He’s acting up because he’s an adult now. Before, he at least watched our reactions.......”

“He’s still a long way from coming to his senses!”

“Serves you right. You can’t do whatever you want like when it was just us, can you?”

YAP YAP YAP!

It wasn’t just my parents—Shin Kangheon, Kim Bokja, even Apricot joined the nagging line.

“Ugh.......”

It felt unfair that I had absolutely no one on my side, but since I’d definitely done wrong, I took it. The entire trip, I just let myself be the village punching bag.

And when Choi Geon warned me, “Just you wait until we get back,” I wasn’t really scared.

Honestly, I was more excited.

When we get back, hell training will be waiting, right? I’m into that.

I was planning to develop what I’d gained—experience and realization from swinging Phantom Dream—through real-combat sparring with my master.

But even after I got home, the hell training I’d been expecting didn’t start.

“Master. I’m already prepared. Whenever you want, that hell training you always talked about—”

“Disciple. Since when did I ever say I was going to do hell training?”

“...Huh?”

The Choi Geon I’d assumed was lying in wait confiscated Phantom Dream the instant we arrived home.

“I can see right through you. You haven’t swung a sword in over ten days, so you’re dying from the itch, aren’t you? And since I’m the only one you can freely swing a sacred weapon at, you were getting excited thinking you could spar.”

“......This is not how I thought this was going to go.”

With Phantom Dream taken from me, I stared at my master like I’d just lost my entire country.

“Hmph. Did you think I’d do you a favor? Not a chance.”

Choi Geon placed Phantom Dream into the sword case he’d brought, then fastened several thick padlocks right in front of me.

“So you’re going to take the sword I finally got, and tell me to go train with a practice sword again?”

My master shook his head with total firmness.

“You dream big. For a while, I’m not going to let you hold a sword at all.”

“Why?!”

Seeing me throw a tantrum—so unlike my usual prematurely old-man self—Choi Geon gave me an infuriatingly smug smile.

“Unlike the other brats, for you, banning training is the best punishment. Isn’t that right?”

“You’re seriously petty!”

SWISH!

I shot my hand out to snatch the sword case, but that kind of rebellion still wasn’t even close to working.

SMACK!

Choi Geon bonked me on the crown of my head and frowned.

“Disciple. Sit down quietly before I start using even pettier methods.”

“.......”

I didn’t dare resist any further. I sat down cross-legged.

Choi Geon sat across from me, and at some point his expression turned serious.

“Today, let’s calm ourselves and meditate together. If we have time, we’ll do a little sword discourse too.”

“Meditation......”

To me, meditation and “sword discourse” in the prime of my early twenties felt close to a waste of time.

But he was my master—Sword Demon—so I didn’t argue. I swallowed the complaints that rose up to my throat.

Then, as if he’d read my mind, Choi Geon smiled faintly and spoke.

“I know better than anyone that you’re a man of the battlefield. Your martial arts are growing at a frightening speed, and I don’t think your methods are wrong. But when you race down a path too fast, you start missing things as well.”

It was advice steeped in the mysterious insight of an old master.

The moment I heard it, I straightened my posture and listened.

“Disciple. When you think you’ve reached a high place, take some time to look around. You might feel impatient, like you have to climb even higher right now. But shouldn’t you at least look back at what kind of martial path you’ve walked so far? Only then can you set a proper signpost for the road you’ll take next.”

Those two words—martial path and signpost—drove deep into my chest.

Back when I was a wanderer, I was always desperate to keep moving forward. I never had the luxury of looking around.

And because of that... how many regrets had I piled up?

When Choi Geon saw my expression begin to change, he smiled softly and continued.

“What are you so impatient for? You’re so exceptional that it’s hard to find anyone your age who can compare—and even knowing that, you’re not the type to grow arrogant. If you ever did, do you think I’d let it slide?”

His joke put a smile at the corner of my mouth.

“What if {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} I get lazy because I’m trusting what you say?”

“Then I’ll beat your ass until it turns red. So for now, you can set the sword down and rest your mind.”

I rose and bowed to my master in gratitude.

“I’ll take your words to heart. Until you permit it, I won’t hold a sword again.”

And in that moment, Phantom Dream trembled inside the case hard enough to make it shake—like it wanted to drink blood immediately.

WHUMMM!

Choi Geon clicked his tongue, eyeing the sword case thrashing under a red aura.

“We’ll have to do something about that wicked thing. If it leaks that kind of aura anywhere, the same disaster will repeat itself.”

“Bokja said she’ll make a dedicated scabbard that won’t let any aura leak out.”

“Then I’ll keep it for the time being. Now—shall we begin meditation training?”

“Yes!”

Following my master’s advice, I focused for a while on still training that cultivated the mind—meditation, internal-method training, sword discourse, and the like.

And in the end, it helped me enormously.

Looking back on the battles I’d fought, observing my own inner self, I felt a lot.

I didn’t even realize how worn down my body and mind had become. With how impatient I was, I almost repeated the same mistakes I made when I lived as a wanderer.

The moment I realized that, the tightness in my chest loosened.

And I didn’t stop at realization—I decided to put it into practice.

To walk a martial path different from my past life, to set a better signpost, I would try.

But if I’m going to look around me... what am I supposed to do?

What would happen because of that resolve... not even Choi Geon could have predicted.