Chapter 2: Half Penny (2)

When Lee Do first arrived in this world, he possessed nothing.

An out-of-place robe that clashed with the backdrop of holograms and drones, and the staff that had somehow materialized in his hand. That was all.

So, when he first opened his eyes in Sector 11-A, it felt ironically like a mocking jest from some god.

No money, no identification card, no ID chip, not even a common cellphone.

Sector 11-A compensated for all of that.

A land of opportunity befitting deserters, escapees, and unidentified criminals. Like any other garbage dump, it attracted the practical vermin that thrived on refuse. Lee Do had unwittingly become a member of this refuse heap.

–God is dead.

It was on the fifth day, he recalled, that he saw that phrase while crawling on the ground after being stabbed, coincidentally looking upwards.

–But our ISIO isn’t. Refreshing cigarettes! Experience the cool fragrance within the cyber, a taste that kills even God.

To be precise, it was an advertisement on an airship that filled the jet-black sky.

‘Pfft.’

He remembered chuckling while swallowing blood. He didn’t know why. He was just rummaging through a gang member’s body when it suddenly came to mind.

He also couldn’t quite explain it.

Lee Do pulled out his cellphone from his pocket.

-[Dropmoneydamn]

Even streetwalkers are enjoying Dropmoney Z ON E. Even streetwalkers are getting freebies and having fun lol
LINK: ixp://dropmoneydamn.zone

-[OMEGA SYS]
※Warning※
Your body implant module has been exposed to unauthorized access. Firmware update required immediately.
[Run Update] → ixp://bioh4ck.com

-[GL!TCH_404]
Hahahaha!!!! Your neural net is open. Your brainwave frequency is delicious★ Let’s dance together from now on! ヲ刁𐨛㉪ヲ刁𐨛㉪ヲ刁𐨛㉪ヲ刁𐨛㉪

[TL Note: The repeated string ヲ刁𐨛㉪ is a mix of characters from different scripts (Japanese, Chinese, Brahmi, and symbol sets), used here to represent glitchy or corrupted digital speech. It’s not meant to be read literally—just a visual effect showing the speaker’s unstable or chaotic digital nature.]

–[016-815-6155]
Whoa;; Is this about you? Check it out quickly…
ixp://deepgrid.node/0x9944a006911c5112…

He had a plethora of spam messages. Even with a burner phone he could contract with anonymously, those money-grubbing parasites indiscriminately spammed messages.

Ignoring them, he opened the camera app.

He took pictures of the bald man’s face and ID card and sent them to a specific number.

-[q134.2e]
You didn’t kill him, right?
Confirmed either way.

A reply came immediately.

Lee Do folded his phone, stood up, and looked around.

The pub was still enveloped in silence. The fight, which had erupted so suddenly, was over just as quickly.

He tapped the bartender on the shoulder.

“Sorry for the disturbance.”

He pointed at the unconscious gang member.

“This guy’s a murderer. Cut me some slack.”

After briefly receiving the bartender’s questioning gaze, Lee Do moved to the table where he had been sitting before. The middle-aged man he’d been talking to was still there. The man was staring at Lee Do with wide, frightened eyes.

Regardless, Lee Do picked up the 800-credit bottle of whiskey he’d already paid for, tucked it into his pocket, and said,

“This doesn’t just poke women’s holes, it pokes men’s holes too.”

Taking out a new cigarette and lighting it, Lee Do left the pub. The silence stubbornly refused to find an escape route.

ID cards and ID chips were valuable. The codes within could be erased and temporarily replaced, essentially functioning as a form of identity laundering. It was a half-baked money-making scheme for aspiring hackers.

After leaving the pub, Lee Do went straight to a secluded secondhand shop on the street.

“Yep, it’s the same as the photo.”

The traded IDs mostly belonged to criminals, but ironically, undocumented criminals were the ones who wanted them. Since it was essentially hacking into the Federal Government’s systems, they were only valid for a few days, but they were a lifeline nonetheless.

Such individuals were called Cyber Revenants. Ghosts without substance. It was a fancy term for those without identities, but since Lee Do was in the same boat, he didn’t particularly care about the term.

He wasn’t here for that reason this time.

“Confirmed. Here’s 52,000 credits.”

His task was to deliver the IDs of those gang members.

Black market deals were conducted strictly in cash. The red-haired woman counted the bills, wrapped them in plastic, and looked up at Lee Do.

“You know Corpse.exe has been expanding their territory, right?”

Corpse.exe.

Another gang.

“No.”

“I think it might be good for you to take some of their work.”

“I don’t do dirty work.”

“Bringing IDs isn’t dirty work?”

“You said you punish murderers. What’s there to hesitate about?”

The identification numbers on the ID cards weren’t just simple numbers. With a sufficiently high level of hacking, they could be deciphered to reveal specific codes, which were the actual IDs.

As was typical in cyberpunk settings, almost everything in this world was cyberized. With the right ID, he could find out where someone had been, what they had done, who they had slept with, even what food they had bought.

It was originally a system used by the government, but this was the gray zone, teeming with bottom-feeders.

His client was an anonymous corporation. Since the gang members had killed one of their employees, they were probably planning a rather cruel revenge using their own people. The subtly bitter ending played out vividly in his mind.

“Killing is killing. You always have such funny convictions.”

The woman scoffed.

After receiving the money, Lee Do gave a slight nod and left the secondhand shop.

“You could move up in the world if you’d just abandon those strange convictions.”

“Screw off, you evil bastard.”

He left the shop with that reply to the woman’s remark. He stopped by a store, bought a few bottles of whiskey, and returned to the motel where he was staying.

Room 1801.

He opened the door, and a musty smell assaulted his nostrils.

If he were an ordinary person, or even in his original body, he might have just wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant odor, but not now. The overly sensitive, half-baked martial artist, Great Daehyup, couldn’t do that.

Grimacing, Lee Do turned on the small holographic TV and opened a bottle of whiskey. He lit a cigarette, took a drag, and turned on the news.

–Numerous reports of personality changes after new biochip implants… Is the responsibility with the companies or their high-tech products?

All sorts of world affairs were discussed.

Only after emptying two bottles and stuffing several cigarette butts into them did he turn off the TV. He cleared the pizza boxes and leftover takeout containers from the sofa, took off his shirt, placed it on the sofa, and sat down in a lotus position.

Cultivating Qi.

[TL Note: Cultivating Qi refers to a practice from Chinese tradition where one refines their inner energy (Qi) through meditation or breathing techniques to strengthen the body, mind, or spiritual power.]

Until just moments ago, the room had been thick with cigarette smoke and the reek of alcohol, but that didn’t matter. What mattered instead was enlightenment. In physical training, enlightenment was paramount.

A stillness, as if time had stopped, filled the room. He immersed himself in it for a while.

He opened his eyes.

At some point, the temperature in the room had subtly begun to change. The curtains, which had been shrouded in darkness, were now tinged with yellow.

Six hours had passed.

Beads of sweat dotted his forehead from expelling the impurities of alcohol, and he could feel the subtle sensation of saliva trickling down his throat.

‘The same.’

The most significant sensation was absent. Progress.

He only felt his already expanded meridians; all that had been added was internal energy built from alcohol and carcinogens. It wasn’t that his Qi and the remnants of alcohol were subtly mixed, hindering his internal energy.

Unlike the very beginning, he could now replace sleep with Qi cultivation and completely heal minor injuries. There had been numerous times when his Qi had increased significantly, just like now. But the “skill” itself was absent.

Was it due to the lack of enlightenment? Lee Do believed so, at least.

Thousand Refinements, Worldly Experience, Reasoned Skill.

They said that after thousands of swings and a wealth of worldly experience, one would attain enlightenment.

Bullshit.

The only enlightenment he’d gained in two years was the bitter taste of cigarettes and alcohol.

No secret manuals. No hidden techniques. No martial arts mastery.

‘In the game, I could just train and obtain them.’

The hurdle of reality seemed to be a constant nuisance.

Shaking his head, Lee Do got up from the sofa, opened the refrigerator, and took out a bottle of water to drink.

Actually, he drank whiskey first.

Since whiskey tasted bad and didn’t get him drunk, it was suitable for pointless contemplation.

For example, he wondered what he would be doing now if he had been properly summoned to the Jianghu.

He wondered about it from time to time. Two years. Two years, thirty-one days and thirty days repeated more than twelve times – sadly, it brought no comfort.

Or rather, what if he hadn’t been transported to this world at all?

Putting the whiskey bottle back in the refrigerator, Lee Do opened his phone.

-[q134.2e]
Got a request, and you’re the only one I can trust with it. It’s Scavenger related. Need you to pick someone up from a casino. I’ll send you the photo and location. Once you bring them in, I’ll explain the situation. It’s happening tonight, and the payment is 70,000 credits upfront.

Scavengers. Rats who scoured the alleyways, looting anything related to corpses. When he thought about it, everyone in this world fed on the byproducts of the government and corporations, or corporations and other corporations, so they were no different from him.

The payment was a whopping 70,000 credits. Enough for him to stay at the motel for another twelve days.

Even without the enlightenment from the Thousand Refinements perk, a potentially life-threatening request was necessary for him. Because in this world, money was more important than internal energy. To survive.

He closed his phone.

He put his thoughts aside. He was isekai’d, and that was that.

[TL Note: “Isekai’d” means being transported to another world, usually in fantasy or anime stories.]

Evening came, and Lee Do stood in front of the mirror.

Perhaps the only difference between cyberpunk and the martial arts world was this.

A pale-skinned man with black hair, looking East Asian.

A dark, ochre-colored jumper, cargo pants, and worn-out work boots. A typical street outfit, unremarkable except for one thing slung over his shoulder.

Something that resembled an artist’s supply case. A black case that only those idiot artists who cried about the illusion of art, even in this world, would carry. But it was much longer and thinner, with protruding ends… A staff.

Lee Do’s observations on the differences mostly ended there.

‘…I should have made him look more manly.’

Just like that.

Who would have known pixels would become reality?

-[q134.2e]
FYI, this one’s clean too. The target has a prior conviction for murder. F*cked up again.

A message arrived.

Lee Do finally decided to leave the motel.

It was ironic, but even knowing the importance of money, he always distinguished between clean jobs and dirty jobs. It was a kind of stubbornness.

And being stubborn in this world was akin to cracking jokes at a gunman.

But a swordsman was a jester. Not just a swordsman in a foreign land, but almost every swordsman was a jester who protected the laughter of all. That was the half-baked martial artist Great Daehyup’s personal opinion. And so, Lee Do, too, at least, believed so without a doubt.