I Became A Playwright In Medieval Fantasy-Chapter 31

"└ So, when’s Part Two coming out? Someone hurry up and tell me, I can’t wait!"

"└ Fun fact: Farewell My Concubine saved the Rotten Melon board from complete chaos."

The first part of Farewell My Concubine covered Xiang Yu’s rise to glory. It followed him as he and his uncle rebelled, as he defeated Zhang Han in the Battle of Julu, entered Xianyang, and destroyed the Qin Dynasty. It culminated in the Hongmen Banquet, where Xiang Yu danced with a sword and drove his rival, Liu Bang, to the distant Shu region.

‘Of course, I toned down some of the more brutal parts for now.’

The scenes of Xiang Yu mercilessly slaughtering both soldiers and civilians, or the infamous Xin’an Massacre where he buried 200,000 Qin prisoners alive, were softened for the audience. Instead of focusing on the atrocities, I portrayed Xiang Yu’s harshness as a way to suppress rebellion through fear, punishing those who opposed him without mercy.

‘…But only for now. The harsher aspects were just temporarily omitted in this first part.’

Xiang Yu had been reimagined as a romantic hero perfectly tailored to the martial spirit of this world. In fact, it might be more accurate to call the current craze Xiang Yu fever rather than Farewell My Concubine fever.

“Hey, Balthazar, can I ask something…? That martial arts stuff—it’s not real, right? You just made it up for fun, didn’t you? It’s not something real elves use?”

“I’ve told you several times already—it’s fiction. Even Professor Gabi, who’s an elf herself, confirmed that Farewell My Concubine is pure fiction.”

“Hmm, what a shame. I was hoping to learn qinggong and fly around barefoot.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

After all, flying magic didn’t exist in this world yet.

I had assigned unique martial arts to the major players like Zhang Han, Liu Bang, and Xiang Yu to fit the wuxia genre. Zhang Han of Qin was given the Absorbing Soul Technique, representing Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s obsession with immortality. Liu Bang of Han wielded Buddha’s Palm, a Buddhist martial art reflecting Liu Bang’s reputation for winning over people with his charm. And Xiang Yu, the hero of Chu, was granted Qinggong (light-footed martial arts) and the ability to ignite his sword with Samadhi True Flame, turning it into a blazing weapon.

‘The audience went wild when Xiang Yu slashed through his enemies with his burning Longyuan Sword.’

This led to a flood of requests for the academy to hire an Eastern martial arts teacher. Many students even approached Professor Gabi, begging her to take them on as disciples. Naturally, she refused, saying that the elves’ secret techniques couldn’t be casually passed on to humans.

…but it wasn’t just Xiang Yu who was getting all the attention.

"Am I the only one who thinks King Liu Bang is the better leader? He’s more competent, and he’s got a great eye for talent, not to mention his ability to unite people."

"This is true. Xiang Yu is rash and impulsive, while Liu Bang is calm and flexible. That’s the kind of ruler I’d follow."

Liu Bang, the other major figure in Farewell My Concubine, had his own small but loyal following.

I had crafted him to be a shrewd and resourceful character, someone with the political savvy of Cao Cao and the tactical brilliance of Zhuge Liang.

‘There’s even an old Chinese folk tale about how the cunning Cao Cao outwitted the dim-witted Xiang Yu, right?’

Still, despite Liu Bang’s strategic mind, his fanbase remained a minority. His reliance on cunning survival tactics made him less popular compared to the overwhelmingly powerful Xiang Yu.

"└ Shut up. If you don’t like it, go learn Samadhi True Flame and qinggong yourself."

"└ Liu Bang fans, just leave the board already."

"└ Liu Bang spotted sulking in exile at Shu."

"And what’s with Fan Zeng always egging Xiang Yu to kill Liu Bang? Does this old man have no self-respect?"

"└ He's just senile. Even after watching Xiang Yu slaughter the Qin army at Julu, he still nags."

"└ Tries to act wise, but can’t actually back it up."

“…People really do judge characters differently when they don’t know the ending.”

“Hm? What are you mumbling about?”

“Nothing.”

In this medieval world, individual combat prowess was everything. Naturally, people admired Xiang Yu’s strength without question.

His hot temper was seen as charismatic. His stubbornness was recast as the unwavering conviction of a peerless general. And his arrogance was interpreted as a justified confidence, born from true invincibility.

It wasn’t just that Xiang Yu was strong, though.

‘Part one of Farewell My Concubine is, in a sense, like an overpowered-protagonist story.’

The narrative was designed to highlight Xiang Yu’s overwhelming might, the kind of story where an unstoppable hero bulldozes through obstacles. From a pure entertainment perspective, that formula never failed.

I enjoyed overpowered stories like One Punch Man, Sword Art Online, and Overlord, so I knew how addicting they could be.

For these fantasy-world people, who had never encountered such tropes before, it was only natural that they’d see everything from the perspective of the invincible hero.

“…But now I’m terrified of writing the second part.”

“Why all of a sudden? Are you afraid you’ll get involved with the crown prince again, like when you wrote Admiral Yi?”

“Shut it.”

At least Admiral Yi had died heroically defending his country. Xiang Yu, on the other hand, had simply lost his temper and self-destructed.

Sure, that was historical fact on Earth, but in this world, Xiang Yu was a fictional character created by Phantom.

‘I’ve read enough web novels to know what happens.’

When the overpowered protagonist makes a dumb mistake and dies, the comment section explodes with 5,700 angry posts.

The people of this world, who were now obsessed with Xiang Yu, wouldn’t react any differently.

So, I needed some kind of logical explanation for Xiang Yu’s downfall. It couldn’t just be, “He was stupid.” His decline had to be convincing…

“…Ah!”

Suddenly, inspiration struck. A trope from wuxia stories, one that fit Xiang Yu’s arc perfectly.

‘What if his constant killing caused his aura to become tainted, leading to an accumulation of evil energy that blinded him?’

Xiang Yu’s increasing brutality and stubbornness in the latter half of the Chu-Han Contention could be explained as the influence of this malevolent force.

It would allow the audience to sympathize with his fall while keeping his flaws intact, offering a plausible reason for his tragic end.

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The popularity of Farewell My Concubine was not confined to the academy.

Outside its walls, the entire empire was caught up in Xiang Yu fever.

For a society raised on stiff, old-fashioned chivalric tales, the bold action of wuxia was a thrilling and spicy revelation.

As a result, the cultural elements featured in Farewell My Concubine began to spread throughout the empire.

“Haha, Thomas! How have you been, my friend?”

“Marcel! Good to see you looking well!”

One of the most popular trends was the use of the paoquanli, the traditional martial salute where a fist is clasped in the palm. People in taverns, churches, and even markets were now exchanging this greeting for fun, reciting old-fashioned lines in the process.

It didn’t stop there. Many of these newfound martial artists were swearing blood-brotherhood pacts, just like Xiang Yu and Liu Bang had done in the play.

Although, in reality, Liu Bang’s oath of brotherhood had ended with his submission to Xiang Yu, the ceremony still held a strong romantic appeal.

"Alright, Paul! From today, we’re sworn brothers!"

"Of course! And since we’re brothers now, I get the last chicken leg—"

“Get out of here! Off to Shu with you, you traitor!!”

At the same time, a craze for horseback riding swept across the empire.

Inspired by Xiang Yu’s legendary black steed, the Mount of the Gods, demand for black horses skyrocketed. Merchants scrambled to source these prized animals, knowing full well that noblemen would pay top coin for them.

“Look at that magnificent black horse! Sell it to me!”

“No, sell it to me! I’ll pay double what he’s offering!”

“Sell even a black foal, and I’ll make a fortune!”

The black horse bubble had arrived, reminiscent of the infamous Dutch tulip mania in the 17th century. Just as rare tulips had once sold for astronomical sums, black horses were now being auctioned off for ridiculous prices.

But perhaps the most significant impact was on the martial and magical communities.

The scenes of qi meditation, where warriors harnessed their inner energy, struck a chord with both knights and mages alike.

"Isn’t that similar to how we manipulate mana?”

"By the gods! Could it be that Phantom, the Pen’s Champion, is also knowledgeable in magic?"

"An interesting concept—combining martial arts and magic to enhance one’s combat ability? If we could master that, the synergy would be incredible.”

Although the qi techniques in the play were just repurposed magic, the idea of blending magic and swordsmanship was groundbreaking for this world.

Phantom’s Farewell My Concubine had shattered the long-standing belief that magic and martial prowess were separate disciplines.

“Could our imperial knights not become like Xiang Yu, wielding both magic and sword?”

The generals of the empire brought up this very point during a council meeting, citing the similarities between qi and mana manipulation.

“As we saw with Admiral Yi, Phantom is a master of strategy. But with Farewell My Concubine, it’s clear he also has deep knowledge of magic.”

“Hm…”

Lord William Wenford, the empire’s Minister of the Army and father to Rosaline, stroked his beard as he considered this.

He was well aware of Phantom’s influence. Thanks to Admiral Yi, the Wenford family had regained its political standing. Julius Caesar had reformed imperial court ceremonies. Exodus had revitalized the morale of the paladins.

Phantom’s The Republic had even reshaped philosophical discourse within the empire.

Despite his reservations, even Wenford couldn’t deny Phantom’s brilliance.

“I know how great Phantom is, but this proposal…”

“Sir, even the court mages have acknowledged it.”

The generals were persistent.

“The depictions of qi in Farewell My Concubine are based on an understanding of mana. There’s no doubt that Phantom conducted extensive research before creating these characters. If that’s true, there’s no reason we can’t produce our own invincible warriors like Xiang Yu.”

“Imagine an army of soldiers wielding both sword and magic, defending the empire. How powerful would that be?”

Of course, I had no real knowledge of magic. I’d just copied the qi techniques from wuxia stories I’d seen in my past life.

But these people, unaware of that, could only marvel at Phantom’s supposed expertise in magic and combat.

And their conviction in my ideas was strong enough to sway even a cautious man like Wenford.

“…Very well! Sometimes, progress requires bold change.”

At last, Wenford nodded, his mind made up.

“Submit the proposal to the emperor at once. What shall we call this new class of warriors?”

“Hmm, how about magic swordsmen, sir?”

“Magic swordsmen! A fine name, ha ha ha!”

Thus, the Magic Swordsman Project was officially launched, a grand initiative born from the inspiration of Farewell My Concubine.

Meanwhile, far from the capital, in a secluded forest clearing, someone stood alone.

A wanderer who had recently watched Farewell My Concubine unsheathed her sword, removing her hood to reveal her face.

Ssshhng!

Her cold, wolfish eyes gleamed in the dim light. Her hair, as blue as a flowing river, was neatly braided and held by an elegant butterfly-shaped hairpin.

And just barely visible beneath her hair was a set of uniquely pointed ears.

She was Maya—a half-elf, with ears neither as short as a human’s nor as long as a full-blooded elf’s.

Maya was a drifter, but she had also been formally recognized as a Candidate for the Sword’s Champion.