Cloud-walking immortals who share the span of heaven and earth, living as long as the universe itself.
Defiers of heaven, cultivators who shed their mortal shells to be reborn as immortals pursuing eternal life.
The tale of a cultivator protagonist who overcomes the tribulations sent by the heavens and climbs to the very pinnacle of the skies.
That was the core of the xianxia genre.
Common Sense was a xianxia fanatic.
He enjoyed wuxia too, but his taste for grand scales left him unsatisfied with mere wuxia. That was how he discovered xianxia.
Unlike wuxia, with its ground-bound clashes of swords and spears, the stories of immortals soaring through the skies and commanding storms perfectly quenched his thirst.
"Yeah, that's it. Snag that fortuitous encounter all for yourself and shoot straight up to the Qi Gathering Realm. Xianxia hits different—straight to the point, no bullshit."
Common Sense was a growth addict. He loved watching protagonists rapidly ascend through the realms in xianxia, then lord over everything as mighty immortals.
Forget the petty squabbles of righteousness or chivalry—he preferred seeing them monopolize opportunities, grow stronger fast, and live it up without a care.
And if there was some freebie power-up thrown in? Even better. Xianxia protagonists always had at least one cheat key up their sleeve.
That was why xianxia hooked him so hard.
There were more Chinese xianxia works than Korean ones, and he'd even used AI to translate those. That was how deep his love for the genre ran.
Growing protagonists. Protagonists who wielded cheats to defy expectations. Protagonists who always scored big from fortuitous encounters.
Yuk-gyeong savored those protagonists and the reactions of everyone around them.
Yeah, a xianxia protag needs at least one cheat key.
"This is how the world should be."
But that didn't mean he wanted to go to a xianxia world.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
It was the dim twilight of dawn, just before the sun peeked over the horizon.
Even the roosters weren't up yet, dozing off in the quiet hour, but one thatched hut was already bustling.
A rough-handed woman in her late thirties, skin weathered from toil, slung a basket over her shoulder and bellowed toward the house.
"Yuk-gyeong! Go fetch some firewood!"
Inside the house she called to,
a young man, barely of age, sat up on his bedroll with tousled hair, as if he'd just woken.
His face was handsome enough to turn heads, but his eyes had a vacant, dopey look.
"Where am I? Who am I?"
Common Sense woke up in yet another strange bed and spaced out.
Han Sang-sik, once a strapping Seoul lad, had been dropped into this Chinese-style world for days now.
At first, he'd rebelled in confusion, demanding to go back to his original world. What he got instead was a brutal beating from his father.
Right, his father.
Sang-sik's dad back in Seoul was long dead, but this world's father was alive and kicking—too lively, in fact.
This barbaric world saw nothing wrong with laying hands on your kids.
Common Sense, now Yuk-gyeong, had tried handstands, jumping into water, leaping around—anything to return home. Each time, Father prescribed a dose of the rod.
"A beating's the cure for a madman," he'd say.
And it was, in a way.
After a thorough thrashing, Yuk-gyeong pretended to snap out of it just to avoid more.
"Yuk-gyeong!"
"You lazy fuck of a sixth son, still not up? It's been days since you stopped lazing around—slacking off again! Where's my stick?!"
At the booming male voice, Yuk-gyeong jolted awake, bolted from the bed, and dashed outside.
"Y-Yes! Coming!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Yuk-gyeong grumbled nonstop as he hauled an axe up the mountain to chop wood.
What a shithole world.
Beating kids like it was nothing. Hell, like they wanted to kill you. And you're their son, for fuck's sake.
Fathers here really went all out.
Rumor had it Yuk-gyeong's older brother had actually died from a beating.
Skipped farm work to play merchant, dipped into Father's money, took a bad hit to the head, and keeled over.
Recalling that, Yuk-gyeong swore never to piss off Father.
A dad who could beat one son to death wouldn't spare him.
All his efforts pretending to help on the farm while plotting an escape—wasted. Now it was just resignation.
What could he do? No way back in sight. No answers.
Goodbye, chicken. Goodbye, pizza. Goodbye, PC.
Yuk-gyeong humbly accepted he wasn't going home and started adapting to this world.
Only wish? Since he'd been isekai'd, a little perk would be nice. It was bullshit getting dumped here—throw him a bone!
Skies above! God who dragged me here! Have some conscience—give me something!
Yuk-gyeong yelled it out, like in novels where shouting triggered cheats.
"Status window!"
"Status window?"
"Information!"
"Character sheet!"
"Log out!"
Goddamn it. Figures.
The world ain't a game, and reality sucks. My life, man.
Finally, Yuk-gyeong flipped off the heavens with a satisfying curse.
"Fuck you, Fuck Status Window!"
⚙ FUCK STATUS WINDOW ⚙Name: Yi Yuk-gyeong (Han Sang-sik) Abilities: Pluck Yin to Supplement Yang, Plunder Traits: None
Eh?
What the hell?
Something popped up in front of his eyes.
Don't tell me... this is the status window?
What did I just say?
Fuck Status Window, right?
The translucent window before Yuk-gyeong's eyes faded slowly.
Yuk-gyeong shouted again.
"Fuck Status Window?"
⚙ FUCK STATUS WINDOW ⚙Name: Yi Yuk-gyeong (Han Sang-sik) Abilities: Pluck Yin to Supplement Yang, Plunder Traits: None
The real deal? Fuck Status Window?
Not status window—Fuck Status Window?
Yuk-gyeong dropped his axe and dove into the window before his eyes.
Name: mine, Yi Yuk-gyeong (Han Sang-sik).
Abilities: Pluck Yin to Supplement Yang?
No traits?
Ain't this status window a bit too bare-bones?
No, wait.
Better than nothing.
He'd figured he was powerless, but hey, abilities listed.
.
.
.
Nothing really changed after awakening the Fuck Status Window.
The abilities—Pluck Yin to Supplement Yang and Plunder—had no descriptions or hints. Yuk-gyeong had to figure it all out himself.
What a dickish window. Total bullshit.
"Pluck Yin to Supplement Yang... that sex thing where you drain women dry or whatever? Turn 'em into mummies?"
Yuk-gyeong had been a wuxia and xianxia nut in his past life. He knew what it meant.
Pluck Yin to Supplement Yang: a wicked technique stealing a partner's yin energy to boost your own yang.
Plunder? Something about snatching stuff, probably. No clue what.
What was he supposed to do with these?
Just bang chicks? Yeah, he could—handsome guy like him. But constantly robbing them? That was the issue. And what happens after?
If he stole their abilities, would the girl notice?
If she did, she'd try to kill him.
Even if not, what changes post-theft?
If she dies or breaks, that's murder. Big problem.
Like those wuxia novels—if the girl mummifies and croaks after sex, he's a sex-killing murderer.
Branded a lustful demon in the jianghu, public enemy number one.
Fame-seekers, self-righteous heroes, court officials who can't ignore evil—tons after his head.
And who wants to fuck a guy known for killing with sex? No more action, game over.
First lay's his last.
Fuck that.
Won't use these shitty powers. Live without 'em.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
One year later,
the year Yuk-gyeong came of age.
He'd lived pretty ordinarily in that time.
Helped with farmwork, did chores—solid, hardworking days. Ask if he had gripes? Hell yeah, full of 'em. But outwardly? Smooth sailing. No point griping and getting beat.
The unpaid labor packed muscle onto his frame. Lean cords of it suited his build, pairing with his pretty face to make him a proper hunk.
Village girls snuck glances whenever he passed.
This popularity thing.
Not so hot in his past life, but fulfilling that thirst now? Felt good.
And a little sister popped up at home.
Yi Chil-nyeon, some rustic name.
Asked parents why he was Yuk-gyeong and she Chil-nyeon: he was sixth, so Yuk-gyeong; she seventh, Chil-nyeon.
Turns out four kids died young, one beaten to death.
Hence the names.
Lazy naming, really.
That was the era, the world.
No whole family brainstorming baby names with philosophers or shamans like back in Korea.
No crispy fried chicken, no pizza loaded with toppings.
Just coarse grain rice and pickled radish. Meat? Only at village feasts.
Still, his folks had pigs and cows—middle-class by local standards. Two meals a day. Others scraped by on one.
Should he like this?
"Scary how I'm getting used to it... I wanna go back home."
And he locked eyes with a village girl named Hye-chun.
Talk of marriage next year was floating around.
Hye-chun.
Prettiest girl in the village.
Fair round face, killer figure, sharp features—rare beauty for the sticks.
Parents griped she was too pale and skinny, but Yuk-gyeong thought that was her charm. They just didn't get it.
"Can't take Hye-chun back home? If I become a real immortal, maybe?"
Yuk-gyeong was heading to meet Hye-chun.
Skirt the wall of the magistrate's estate—guy who got a post in the capital and returned—and there was her place.
Count the patterns on the wall, and he was there quick.
Without that estate, it'd be a straight shot. He grumbled lightly, but his steps brimmed with excitement.
What to give her today? Last time flowers—loved 'em. Mushrooms from the hills this time?
There—small, white Hye-chun in the distance. Waiting out front, as always.
Yuk-gyeong rushed to hug her, but
"Let's end this."
What?
.
.
.