**Chapter 1: The Waiter Hides His Magic (1)**
An inn in Xining, the capital of Qinghai Province.
With a creaking sound as the door opened, a few men with appearances weathered by harsh winds and waves stepped into the inn. They familiarly flopped down at a prime table in the corner and shouted.
"Waiter!"
"Yes!"
The middle-aged man who seemed to be the eldest of the group called out in a booming voice.
"Bring us three bowls of cold noodles and a bottle of Bamboo Leaf Green liquor."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the youngest-looking man in the group jumped in surprise and tugged at the sleeve of the man he called Brother Ming.
"Wait, Brother Ming! Cold noodles? Do you have any idea how precious that dish is here in Xining, no matter how hot it is? It must cost a fortune..."
The man looked at the one called Brother Ming with an expression of utter bewilderment. In the high-altitude region of Xining, finding ice was like picking stars from the sky, and naturally, any dish containing ice was worth whatever price the seller named.
However, Ming-jun just slapped the man on the shoulder and laughed heartily.
"Haha, it’s fine. My brother has performed a great service this time, so he deserves a treat like this. If not now, when would we ever enjoy such luxury? Hurry up and bring it!"
"But still!"
At Ming-jun’s bold shout, a young man with a sturdy build, who appeared to be the waiter, bowed his head and headed toward the kitchen.
The young man muttered quietly toward the noodle broth.
"Ice."
Immediately, a chill erupted from his fingertips and enveloped the bowls.
A short while later, the waiter reappeared carrying a wooden tray. On the tray sat three porcelain bowls, and to everyone’s surprise, a faint layer of frost clung to the outside of the bowls.
"Here are the cold noodles you ordered!"
As the waiter, Hajin, set the bowls down, the men’s eyes widened. Not only were there shards of ice floating in the noodle broth, but a generous amount of crushed ice covered the surface.
It was a sight that made one’s insides feel cool just by looking at it.
"No way! How can there be this much of such precious ice!"
"Hey, waiter! Did you bring this out correctly?"
The young man who had been worried about the price of the cold noodles let out an exclamation before he could stop himself. The others in the group looked equally stunned.
"Yes, these are the cold noodles you ordered. Ah, and here is the Bamboo Leaf Green Liquor!"
*Thump!*
As Hajin set the liquor on the table, Ming-jun laughed heartily.
"See! I told you there was no problem. Did you think I’d only been to this inn once or twice? Or were you doubting me?"
"Haha, Brother Ming! How could we ever do that?"
"That’s right! We were just surprised because we didn't expect to taste cold noodles in the middle of Xining. I wonder where on earth they get this ice; did they melt snow from the eternal peaks? Waiter, where do you get your ice?"
Suddenly, the men’s gazes, filled with awe, turned toward Hajin. Hajin accepted their stares nonchalantly and wore a subtle smile on his lips. There was a hint of slyness mixed in.
"Guests, that is a trade secret of our inn..."
"Ah, I see. That makes sense."
Pride shone on Hajin’s grinning face. The men didn't press further, instead marveling as they brought their chopsticks to the bowls of cold noodles.
Satisfaction was evident on the customers' faces. They kept burying their noses into the refreshing bowls of cold noodles. Watching them with a pleased expression, Hajin turned back toward the kitchen without losing his smile.
"Popular as always."
Inside the kitchen. Even at the praise of the middle-aged woman who was diligently washing dishes next to the boiling cauldron, Hajin just shrugged his shoulders.
"Who made it? It’s only natural."
Just then, an old man who had been organizing the ledger in the corner of the kitchen approached in his socks. With graying hair, kind eyes, and a good-natured smile, he was Yoo Jin-bang, the owner and head chef of the inn.
"Oh, my little treasure!"
Yoo Jin-bang approached Hajin as if running in his socks, grabbed both his shoulders with a gesture that couldn't hide his joy, and pulled him into a tight hug.
"Thanks to you, our inn’s revenue has doubled since last month! Ice cold noodles in this dry land of Xining—who could have imagined it? Oh, my boy, my treasure!"
Tears of joy seemed to well up in Yoo Jin-bang’s wrinkled eyes. Hajin let out a dry cough, feeling slightly embarrassed by the innkeeper’s praise.
"Don't mention it. This is all thanks to you, sir, for saving my life."
The statement that the innkeeper had saved his life was by no means incorrect. Hajin had been a Hunter in 21st-century South Korea, known as a genius mage. He had also possessed quite a bit of knowledge about martial arts thanks to reading martial arts novels.
In any case, as a mage, his daily routine had been to deal with gates that opened without warning and the magical beasts that poured out from beyond them.
And then, as usual, he had entered a gate, and just as he succeeded in destroying the core after a fierce battle, an unexpected variable occurred. Because the gate closed abnormally fast, he couldn't make it out in time. That was how Hajin became a "gate stray."
Afterward, he regained consciousness amidst the smell of musty dust and the sound of loud, unintelligible shouting. He had ended up in pre-modern China, of all places.
"What the? Where am I?"
After falling into what is commonly called the world of martial arts, Hajin checked his abilities. For better or worse, his magic remained intact. He couldn't cast high-level spells due to a lack of mana, but he could still skillfully use magic to create small chunks of ice or chill water with a flick of his hand. But that was all.
‘Damn it! How am I supposed to survive with this little mana!’
The Central Plains were full of wariness toward outsiders. Since his origins were unclear and his abilities didn't involve using standard weapons, the martial world was cold to Hajin, who had no way to properly prove himself.
Moreover, there was no way such a wretched pre-modern Chinese land would have any decent welfare system.
"I'm going to die. Seriously."
Then, when he had been starving for days to the point where even hunger had become dull, a shadow fell over his face as he lay collapsed. It was an old man. The old man placed a steaming bun and a cup of water into Hajin’s hands.
"Eat that."
"…?"
"I went through quite a lot of hardship in my youth, too. Now, my simple dream is to quit all that and run a cozy, peaceful inn. And to help people who are hungry like this, too."
The person who had shown him kindness for the first time in a strange land was Yoo Jin-bang, the owner of the inn where he now worked. Hajin hurriedly swallowed the bun Yoo Jin-bang had given him.
"Good lad, you eat well. I’ll give you a place to stay and food; would you like to work as a waiter at my inn? I happen to be short-handed."
Yoo Jin-bang said, lifting his empty left sleeve.
From that day on, Hajin became the inn’s waiter.
* * *
A few days passed. Hajin was sitting at a window seat in a corner of the inn, shaded from the hot sun, enjoying some green tea by himself. The bitter yet subtle fragrance tickled the tip of his nose.
‘I bet this would sell well if I served it cold, too.’
The thought suddenly crossed his mind. How many people in 21st-century South Korea couldn't live without iced Americanos filled with ice? Would the Central Plains be any different?
The desire for something refreshing must be the same across all times and places. Since the cold noodles were a hit, cold green tea or fruit tea with ice seemed to have a good chance of success.
‘My goodness, I’m already worrying about a new menu.’
Hajin let out a soft, dry laugh before he could help it.
His intense life as a Hunter, crossing gates and hovering between life and death, hadn't been bad, but he found that his current life, pondering small concerns in a quiet inn, was also quite decent.
‘Should I save up some money like this, learn more about running an inn from the old man, and eventually take over the place? No, wait—I should expand it into an inn chain, starting with Xining! Ah, would that be hard since I’m the only one who can use magic?’
Life as an inn waiter was truly satisfying. If he had only known how to fight back when he was a Hunter, now he felt like he was learning about life.
It reached the point where he felt the innkeeper was like his own master.
‘Is this why they call people "life seniors"? This won't do. I really should become the old man’s apprentice and expand the inn. Just think of the earnings if I had one in every capital city…’
Just as he was wearing a satisfied smile while seriously planning his franchise business, the inn door creaked open.
"Welcome!"
However, the moment he saw the people entering, Hajin couldn't help but pause. The scar on the face revealed the moment they took off their bamboo hats.
Beyond that, their fierce expressions and the sharp, naked blades hanging at their waists—they were clearly not ordinary people.
‘Tsk, martial artists.’
Whenever martial artists came to the inn, small incidents always followed, so he didn't like it one bit.
The warriors scanned the inside of the inn and flopped down at an empty table not far from where Hajin was sitting. Their sharp gazes lingered on Hajin for a moment before moving away. Then, they moved their heads around, eyes glaring as if searching for something.
Hajin’s brow furrowed slightly without him realizing it. His senses, honed by detecting all sorts of dangers during his Hunter days, were sounding an alarm.
‘They don’t look like amateurs.’
And just as he was wondering why such people would be here, one of the warriors suddenly jumped up and shouted.
"The Ghost Soul Hand is trying to escape! Everyone, move in! The Elders are with us!"
"He’s just an old man with one arm missing anyway! Don't be afraid!"
"Run away! Hajin!"
Then came the voice of Yoo Jin-bang. Before Hajin could even process the situation, a commotion broke out near the kitchen, followed by a chilling sound.
*Slash—!*
A hair-raising cutting sound, as if a thick chunk of meat were being sliced through in one stroke. Following that, the fishy smell of blood faintly brushed past his nose. A chill ran down Hajin’s spine.
‘What is this…!’
Before he could even move from his seat, one of the fierce warriors approached Hajin.
"You! What is your relationship with the Ghost Soul Hand!"
It was a thunderous roar. Hajin, unable to grasp the situation, blankly asked back.
"Ghost Soul Hand? Who is that... No, wait! Who on earth are you people?!"
The man scoffed, half-drawing the sword at his waist.
"Hmph! Do you intend to feign ignorance?! We are the executors of justice for the Kunlun Sect! I am White Crane, a first-generation disciple of the Kunlun Sect!"
The Kunlun Sect! Although he hadn't been in this world for long, Hajin was a lover of martial arts novels. Naturally, he knew very well that the Kunlun Sect was one of the prestigious orthodox sects of the Jianghu.
"No, if you are from the Kunlun Sect, aren't you one of the Nine Great Sects? Why are you committing such tyranny in a mere inn!"
Hajin’s voice rose instinctively. What possible reason could a prestigious orthodox sect have to attack a small inn? Moreover, he was beginning to worry about the safety of Yoo Jin-bang and the others at the inn. Since the sound of chopping from the kitchen had ceased, Yoo Jin-bang’s voice had not been heard.
However, White Crane’s gaze only grew colder.
"Tyranny? We are currently purging the remnants of the wicked Demonic Cult in the name of the orthodox path! The elders of Kunlun are already present! Do not even think of trying anything foolish!"
As he spoke, White Crane pressed his cold blade against Hajin’s neck. Hajin swallowed hard at the sensation of the frigid metal.
"Now that I look at you closely, I sense something strange. You must be a disciple of that Ghost Soul Hand who practices deviant demonic arts! That is why you urged him to flee!"
White Crane shouted with a voice full of conviction. Hajin was dumbfounded. He didn't even know who the Ghost Soul Hand was, yet he was being called a disciple.
"No, what kind of preposterous nonsense is that! I don't know anything—"
"Silence! No more questions! My sword will reveal your true identity! If you dodge, you are a member of the Demonic Cult!"
Just as White Crane’s razor-sharp blade was about to ruthlessly pierce Hajin’s throat, Hajin, desperate and panicked, screamed irritably.
"Ugh, you stubborn bastard, you won't listen to reason! Wind Cutter!"
At the same time, all of Hajin’s mana condensed and erupted. A chilling, sharp whistling sound tore through the air.
The wind brushed lightly past White Crane’s body in an instant.
"Gah!"
A short groan burst from White Crane’s lips. His eyes widened in disbelief, and the next moment, his body was sliced clean in two at the waist.
*Squelch!*
Blood sprayed like a fountain, staining the inn floor red. White Crane’s body, now separated into upper and lower halves, collapsed limply to the ground. The scent of blood instantly permeated the inn.
"..."
Silence. The remaining Kunlun Sect warriors, who had been surrounding Hajin with their swords drawn, froze, unable to believe the sight before them. Their expressions were a mixture of shock and terror.
Hajin was no different.
"...Ah, damn it. What do I do now?"
He had killed a first-generation disciple of the Kunlun Sect.
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