The herbalist went back into the shop.
“Waaah! Help, vampire abuse! Someone help! Everyone! Merchants! A harmless vampire is being kidnapped right n—!”
“Shut up. We’re just drawing some blood.”
“…Huh? Blood?”
“A vampire’s fresh blood is the price for Anricho. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have brought you along in the first place.”
“…You should’ve said that from the start.”
Only after James quieted down did Dojin loosen the grip on his hand. Dark, almost blackish-red marks—like ruptured blood vessels—remained around James’s wrist. If he’d been human, his wrist might’ve been broken.
The herbalist skillfully drew James’s blood. He filled three 500ml bags, and while that amount meant absolutely nothing to a vampire, James still complained nonstop—saying he felt dizzy, that he was scared of needles, that it hurt, and so on. Of course, the only one indulging his whining was Kkiwoong.
“Here. This is the Anricho. I won’t ask where you’re using it.”
“Thank you. In return, I won’t ask where you’re using the vampire’s blood. Ah, but I do have another question.”
“What is it?”
“What does the ‘S-grade’ on your sign mean?”
“Looks like people outside don’t use that expression. It means Immortal-grade—the ‘S’ of Seonin. Among human-grade, Taoist-grade, and Immortal-grade, it’s the strongest tier.”
“So like B-grade, A-grade, S-grade.”
“Those outside terms just don’t have any soul.”
Dojin asked again.
“Then is there no rank for Jangsa or General Divine Spirits?”
“They’re hard to tell apart, aren’t they?”
He couldn’t argue with that.
As Dojin stood up, the herbalist followed him out.
“Hey. You’re not an ordinary human, are you?”
“What ordinary human would enter a vicious place like Yuldo Island?”
“Vicious? What about this place looks vicious to you? Didn’t you see everyone dancing and singing together tonight?”
“There isn’t a single Wia anywhere. That’s vicious—and bizarre.”
“Listen.”
The herbalist spoke as if admonishing him.
“From our point of view, your world is far more vicious and bizarre. Low spirits dance and sing in the streets, yet humans pass by without knowing a thing, don’t they? Only one side being aware of the other’s existence—that’s playing with humans. Mocking them. That’s what’s truly vicious and grotesque.”
When Dojin thought about it, the herbalist’s words did make sense. A place that treats clearly existing beings as if they don’t exist, and a place that doesn’t even know those beings exist at all—if you compared them, they might be equally grotesque in their own ways. So he admitted it honestly.
“Yes. I suppose you could see it that way.”
“……”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I thought you’d get angry. For badmouthing your world.”
Dojin shrugged.
“It’s not like you made things up.”
“I’ve never seen an outsider like you before.”
The herbalist clicked his tongue. It was a reaction Dojin often received, and he didn’t dislike it.
After parting ways with the herbalist, they stepped out of the shop. The Anricho was such a vivid yellow that just looking at it made his eyes ache. Wanting it completely out of sight, Dojin reached to zip up his crossbody bag. Kkiwoong, startled by the action, scrambled out and settled near Dojin’s wrist.
“Dojin… you took too much blood… my head’s spinning… I can’t even feel my legs….”
James staggered, then collapsed onto the ground, putting on a pitiful act. The merchants who’d been watching the strange foreigners now began to smile rather than glare.
“Hey. Then turn into a bat and get in the bag.”
“The Anricho’s color is too blinding….”
“Then what do you want me to do? Live here? We’ll make the medicine ourselves and mail it to your ex.”
“Dooojin…! If I’m left here alone and cause some kind of incident? Immortal Iri specifically told us to behave politely in Yuldo Island…. He might scold you for leaving a walking disaster like me behind….”
“Ah, damn it. You’re pissing me off.”
James clung to Dojin’s pant leg, and the Yuldo Island merchants’ laughter only grew louder. In the end, Dojin grabbed James by the back of the neck with two fingers, like he was picking up a filthy trash bag.
“Could you… carry me more comfortably?”
“Like hell I will. Shut up before I throw you over there.”
‘Over there’ referred to a massive lake a short walk past the market. A sign in front of it read: [Caution! Depth: 50 km!] James immediately shut his mouth.
Even though he was skinny, James was still over 180 cm tall. As Dojin walked along holding a tall man up with just two fingers, the surrounding whispers grew louder.
“Look at that foreigner. Why is he so strong?”
“Maybe it’s magic? He doesn’t look like an ordinary human.”
“What if he’s a dokkaebi who transformed into human form?”
“Come on. Yuldo Island has the king’s barrier. The moment a dokkaebi or a fox yokai sets foot here, their transformation gets undone.”
“Then what in the world is that human, to have strength like that?”
Rather than keep listening to the murmurs, Dojin felt like shouting, ‘I’m a Jangsa!’ at the top of his lungs. He hated feeling stifled, so he was seriously considering it—when someone called out to him from behind.
“Hey. You there—the Jangsa carrying a vampire.”
Dojin stopped short. The one who’d halted him was a man wearing a large gat, draped in a plain black robe. His face was hidden by the hat.
“You’ve got extraordinary strength.”
“Yeah. Not ordinary at all. I’m a Jangsa. A grown-up baby general! Satisfied?”
When Dojin snapped, the man in the gat tilted his head as if he had no idea why Dojin was angry, then tossed something toward him.
It was a piece of paper about the size of a business card, but it flew through the air with the weight of a stone. Dojin immediately realized the man was a Taoist. Suspicious of why a Taoist was approaching him, Dojin caught the paper and unfolded it. Written on it were the following words:
[The 13th National Arm Wrestling Tournament
Registration Deadline – 23:59:59
Location – Central Plaza of the Marketplace
Eligibility – Anyone!]
“An arm wrestling tournament?”
“That’s right. It’s held once every hundred years. I assumed you’d obviously participate, but when I saw you heading this way, I wondered—don’t tell me you didn’t know?”
“I had no idea.”
“The winner receives immeasurable honor, along with a rare prize. You should definitely enter.”
“Are foreigners allowed to participate?”
The man laughed heartily.
“Didn’t you see the eligibility says ‘Anyone’? Anyone means anyone.”
“The Island is so isolationist, yet it still allows something like this.”
Dojin recalled the group that had arrived on the ship with them earlier—the dokkaebi group and the white-veiled group. Had they come to participate in this tournament as well?
“Aren’t you curious about the prize?”
“Prize or not, I need to go home. My master is waiting for me. So if you’ll excuse me—”
“Virtue.”
“…….”
Dojin stopped dead in his tracks.
“In the Yuldo Island arm wrestling tournament held once every hundred years, the single winner is granted one hundred years’ worth of virtue. So? Does that catch your interest?”
***
Virtue is usually measured in units of time: one day’s worth of virtue, one month’s worth, one year’s worth. And before those units comes an unspoken premise—’the amount an average cultivator accumulates’.
One hundred years’ worth of virtue accumulated by an average cultivator.
For Dojin, who lacked so much virtue that he couldn’t even set foot in the True Mortal Realm, it was a temptation he couldn’t possibly ignore.
‘So when Master said ‘come back having gained a lot’, he didn’t mean learning from Hong Gildong’s governance—he meant these hundred years of virtue!’
If Immortal Iri told him to obtain something and return, shouldn’t he obey?
Dojin immediately headed to the tournament site and filled out a registration form.
“Hey, vampire. Are you entering too?”
“No…. Since I know you’re competing, Dojin, why would I waste my strength by entering as well…. Please win. I’ll wait here.”
Kkiwoong. Kkiwoooong……
Without anyone even asking, Kkiwoong also declared he wouldn’t participate and sat on a bench in the exact same posture as James.
Dojin handed the form and registration fee to the tournament staff. The staff member accepted them kindly.
“You just barely made the deadline. Name: Kim Dojin. Age: 20. Oh wow, you’re young. Hm? Wait a second—Jangsa? Jangsa… what was that again?”
“It’s a thing. I’m properly registered, right?”
“Yes. You are. Please make sure you win.”
Responding mechanically, the staff member handed Dojin a stiff piece of paper stamped with the arm wrestling tournament seal. When Dojin grasped it, the stamp spread across the back of his hand like ink bleeding into water.
“Hey. You two—behave yourselves. Don’t go anywhere.”
After firmly warning the cowardly Wia, Dojin strode toward the arena. The venue was brightly lit, like midday, with arm wrestling tables set up on the stage.
There were around two hundred participants. As expected, he spotted both the dokkaebi group and the white-veiled group. The only other figure that caught his eye was a heavily bearded, powerfully built man.
No need to warm up.
Considering this was a tournament held once every hundred years, the low number of participants was probably due to Yuldo Island being such a secretive nation. Already sensing victory, Dojin amused himself until he found an empty seat and sat down. With about thirty minutes left before the tournament began, he was about to look at the photo he’d taken of his master—when voices spoke behind him.
“Hey! Damn it, the seat’s taken! Someone’s sitting there! I told you to stay here—why did you follow me?!”
