Chapter 18 The Beggar Sect (8) - Martial Arts Masochist

The head of the Emei Sect branch within the Beggars' Sect. Mr. Gwaktu, also known as the Emei Sect Buntaju. His position in the Beggars' Sect was indicated by the three knots hanging from his waist. In this novel, he was a benefactor. Not only did he feed, raise, and assist me, who had transmigrated into an orphan beggar in 'Blood Road', but I also couldn't find anyone as respectable as Mr. Gwaktu. He seemed to be the person who most effectively practiced the idea of 'all is emptiness'. Although he occasionally indulged in petty desires, during crucial moments, he remained unwavering in the face of wealth and stood solely by his beliefs. He was so perceptive and intelligent that I sometimes thought if such a person existed today, he might have become an executive of a company. ...No, perhaps he was too kind to have become an executive because he lacked the ruthlessness. Anyway, that's the kind of person he was. Therefore, it was more pressing than ever when he became an adversary. "Huh? Seojin-ah. What's that?" Hiding it behind my back only served to arouse their suspicions even more. Awkwardly, I cleared my throat and hesitantly revealed the martial uniform. Among the three beggar uncles who had entered the house, another one, Uncle Guyeong, spoke up. "Huh? Isn't that the Emei Sect martial uniform? Why do you have that?" Their gazes all focused on me at once. Although they appeared disoriented like wet rats, I could clearly sense that this was a critical juncture. A single misplaced word could lead all these uncles to the basement. They were journalists of the martial world. People who couldn't resist hot news. The information they brought to the Beggars' Sect was sold to other branches for food, making them unable to disengage their interest in any riveting topics. But here, the information about none other than the Millennium Flower's Cheongwol from the Emei Sect? ...No, beyond that, merely seeing Cheongwol's face could spell death for all of us, including these uncles and myself. This basement had already become Pandora's box. Open it out of curiosity, and we all perish. I naturally frowned and replied, "Well... I told you they came to buy hemp rope at the Emei Sect, right? I was asked for a small favor back then." The last uncle, Uncle Matchildeuk, picking his nose, asked, "What favor?" "Well... they said the martial uniform was a bit uncomfortable. Particularly around the arms? They were wondering if it could be made more comfortable, you know, something like that. Oh, please don't discard your nasal debris in my house—" "-Why did they ask you?" "It just happened that way. You know how it goes. They probably thought I could do something since I make leather goods." "Hmm... is that so?" Mr. Gwaktu set the food down beside him and said, "Lay out the clothes." I felt a bit defensive. Asking me to lay out the martial uniform Cheongwol had just taken off? Isn't that somewhat unethical...? Not to mention, if Cheongwol were down there listening to all this... "What, what do you mean, lay it out again...!" "I mean, what's the big deal about looking at clothes. Just lay it out." "... " Unable to withstand the gazes pouring from the uncles, I carefully displayed the martial uniform. For some reason, it gave the illusion of Cheongwol's scent wafting through the air. "Smells like flowers." Uncle Guyeong softly remarked, seemingly having perceived it as well. "I've never seen a martial uniform up close like this... so this is what it feels like? You know, with the Emei Sect nuns, it's like even making eye contact feels apologetic, something like that. They're so pure." Uncle Matchildeuk also admired the clothes. Only Mr. Gwaktu silently examined the clothes from top to bottom before asking, "...Is this Cheongwol's?" My heart skipped a beat. I immediately clutched the clothes to my chest and shouted, "What, what nonsense are you talking about!" "I mean... it looks just like Miss Cheongwol’s martial uniform size." "What nonsense are you spouting. They probably just gave me any leftover. How would I know whose clothes these are?" "Hmm..." Mr. Gwaktu's keen eye was always eerily accurate. Like a martial artist swinging a sword, the Beggars' Sect uncles had an acuity that was monstrous. I purposefully treated the martial uniform as mere clutter and tossed it onto my bedding. "Enough of that. Let’s head to the guesthouse. Let’s stop dirtying the house by standing here. Will you take responsibility if business goes south because of your smell?" "We washed off with rainwater, you fool. We're clean today." "You smell, what do you mean!! Enough, enough! Let’s get going." I moved towards the door, but no one moved to join me. Instead, the uncles just exchanged cautious glances. Then, Uncle Guyeong spoke. "...Why are you all of a sudden leaving? Let’s eat here. Brother brought drinks and dumplings." "Why does the usual stingy one act like this today?" Uncle Matchildeuk, on the contrary, approached the discarded martial uniform. "But this... let me at least take a sniff, Seojin-ah. When else will I get to smell the clothes of the Emei Sect’s disciples—" "-Hey!!" I hastily pushed the uncle away from the martial uniform and clutched it tightly again. "Are you insane, uncle? If the Emei Sect finds out, your head will roll!" If Cheongwol hears this from below, that’ll be the end of you all!! Who knew when that specter might burst out in fury. Uncle Matchildeuk looked at me oddly in return. "...How do you know? And what's with the overreaction to a little joke… Haha, isn’t he acting strange today? Isn’t that right, brother?" Mr. Gwaktu also gave a meaningful glance. "...Indeed." Uncle Guyeong cracked a joke. "Oh, leave the kid be. Might as well made a pass at the clothes or something." The uncles burst into laughter at that remark. Regardless of that, I scrunched up Cheongwol's martial uniform and stuffed it into the box beside my bedding. My head was spinning rapidly. Cheongwol was down there only wearing her undergarments. What on earth am I going to do? **** Cheongwol was aware that the beggar acquaintances of Han Seojin had come by. Her heart pounded rapidly. "Ha...ha..." What were beggars of the Sect? Filthy, uncultured beings who loved to spread the tales of others. People who stood on complete opposite extremes from Cheongwol. If she were to be discovered like this by them... she knew without a doubt that the shame would be unbearable, making it impossible to continue living. The burning heat she felt when receiving Han Seojin's attention had vanished, and now only the cold rationality rang alarm bells of danger within her. Without Han Seojin by her side, the same humiliation felt entirely different. Previously, it had been a calculated crisis, but now it was a genuine one. Overcome by this fear, she blinked. She couldn't see a thing. Cheongwol crouched down, trying to hide her body. Clothes. Where did they go? Han Seojin must have left them here. Cheongwol crawled around the floor, groping blindly. Typically an action she'd never commit, but being discovered undressed by those beggars was an even greater humiliation. -Thud! "Ugh!" As Cheongwol crawled, she bumped into something. The noise was a bit loud. But she didn't have time to dwell on the pain. She continued to feel her way across the floor. -Thud! Again, her head hit something. But once more, she couldn't stop due to the fear. Cheongwol relentlessly navigated the floor. **** -Thud! "..." "..." I pretended not to hear, but the uncles exchanged glances. Mr. Gwaktu was the first to speak. "Seojin, in the basement…" "Hm? What is it?" -Thud. "..." "..." "...There’s noise coming from the basement, what is it?" "Probably just some rats," I whispered. If they realized I referred to Cheongwol as a rat, there’d be no surviving it. My sense of crisis and tension was at its peak. I could feel their suspicion growing. To prevent them from making any sudden moves toward the basement, I sat on the basement door knowingly aware of their doubts. "Ugh... whether we're going to the inn or not, let's just have a drink quickly. Don't just stand there idly." I needed to get them to drink and leave quickly. Glancing up at the uncles, they exchanged looks... "..." "..." Ultimately, they shrugged and took seats around me. I took a deep breath. It felt like I had at least temporarily averted the crisis. "So, how have you been, Seojin? Have a drink." And thus, the drinking began. ... In the world of 'Blood Road', the right-minded sect members are obsessed with one thing: reputation. Martial artists are, after all, monstrously powerful warriors. Conversely, this means they own nothing but their swords. They aren't involved in farming, fishing, or running trade caravans. While they may contract with merchants for escort duties or take on certain missions, even these are not consistently reliable sources of income. As righteous sect members, they cannot blatantly resort to plundering or looting villages like the unorthodox sects might. Thus, the method they chose for survival is reputation. They save the weak, perform acts of chivalry, and leave people touched through their martial arts. This sentiment spreads by word of mouth across the martial world, and these tales form the most potent catalyst for support towards their sects. They thrive on receiving love. Grains, silver coins, clothing, medicinal herbs, weapons... With such a populous land, even sending a single grain of rice could sustain a sect for a year. Some people leave their children with the sect, and some even leave their inheritance, claiming they were once saved. All of this is the result of trust in the notion that 'this sect is righteous'. Reputation becomes capital, influence, and power. In essence, sects are like talent agencies. The warrior they produce is the star, and the destiny and future of the sect depend on that star’s fame. Therefore, they become incredibly sensitive to rumors or titles that spread throughout the martial world. Firstly, titles. A title is a credential that certifies the star. Greatest Fighter Under Heaven, Greatest in History, Three Masters, Ten Great Experts. Lord This, Emperor That, Marquis, Duke, Dragon, and so forth... Grand titles are the best marketing tools from the sect’s perspective. Having just one titled figure in their ranks boosts their prestige in the martial world beyond imagination. It’s akin to boasting in sports about having the league’s top scorer on your team. Moreover, as much as the already well-established martial artists, the rising prodigies garner immense attention. Naturally, promising talents draw interest when combined with expectation. Of course, differing sects drive differing values, much like talent agencies with varying inclinations. For instance, the Shaolin’s allure is in their gravity, while Emei Sect’s values lie in purity and nobility. What central values the people of the martial world hold dear often dictate which sects they love more. Titles, also, should match those esteemed values. Next, the rumors. "Moon-Gwan the Swordmaster swept through the Gorilla Forest from Mount Wudang." "Poisonous Bee from the Sichuan Tang Clan saved twenty women." "That stunning Millennium Flower from Emei Sect has already reached the first-rate stage." Etc... Even just one of these stories propagates the sect’s name among the people of the martial world effortlessly. They resonate with admiration. They evoke excitement and thrill, leading people to trust that these stories will safeguard them. But regardless of how fascinating the gossip is, someone must spread it. Here is where the Beggars' Sect and the Hao Moon come into play. The Beggars' Sect distributes relatively credible information. Being beggars, they're present everywhere in the martial world, witness events firsthand, and circulate only refined information. Think of them as the news press. Meanwhile, the Hao Moon leans towards tabloids. There’s no fact-checking involved. They spread speculative stories based on verified information. If it excites the martial world, they’ll disseminate it. Picture them as akin to D*spatch. Naturally, this doesn’t make the Hao Moon particularly popular with most sects. But sensitive news often originates there. Cheongwol, too, operates under the influence of such a martial world. She must act in accordance with her title, being cautious to avoid harmful rumors. She is the Millennium Flower of the Emei Sect. It’s not without reason that she feels the pressure from Emei Sect's expectations. Consider her as a young idol carrying the sect’s future, an idol anticipated by society... and this idol is in my basement, wearing only her undergarments. It’s a deed that could shake the very foundation of the values the Emei Sect upholds. If these uncles were to see, it would spell disaster. When I say Cheongwol might genuinely kill the uncles, it’s not an exaggeration. For the future of a sect, killing a few beggars would be nothing. It’s not just that Cheongwol is a madwoman—if the head of Emei Sect, Muwol Sage, were to witness this, they might very well decide to kill folks like us. "...it's unfortunate. I couldn't have imagined the Poisonous Bee would collapse. I still can’t forget the shock I felt the first time I saw him at the Yongbong Assembly." "Isn't it the same for Spirit Spring Young Hero of Wudang?" "Yu Shin Sword? Yes... I've heard he's not been in the best state recently. Not sure of the specifics, but they say his energy seems drained." "It seems like the older folks are putting too much on the young promising talents, don't you think? We're seeing people collapsing here and there." "Despite all the talk about righteousness, everyone wants to make ends meet. That's why the standards forced onto the next generation keep rising. Those greedy bastards." "Well, at least Emei is doing alright. With the Millennium Flower holding strong." "True, Guyeong. Recently, my standing in the group has risen because of that. With Miss Cheongwol doing so well, interest in Emei has increased even within our ranks." Even now, the table talk was filled with stories about martial artists. I was breaking out in a cold sweat. Cheongwol had quieted down in the basement, but the silence just meant I couldn't tell what that monster might be thinking. Is she testing her patience’s limits? Contemplating whether or not to wipe us out? I felt as if I was sitting on a bomb that might explode at any moment. All I could do was hasten the emptying of my drink. As I took another swig, Uncle Guyeong chuckled. "Really going at it today, aren't you Seojin?" "Haven't had a drink in a while, sticks to the ribs today." "Good, drink up. That’s what we begged it for, after all." No matter how much I drank, the alcohol wasn’t affecting me at all. My survival instincts were sharply tuned. Mr. Gwaktu downed his drink, tapped his knee, and spoke to me. "Ah... right. Seojin, do you still frequent the back mountain?" "...Just to gather food... why?" "Hm. Best not to, for the time being." You could have mentioned this sooner. If I hadn’t gone to the back mountain that day, I would never have met Cheongwol. I asked why. "Why is that?" "...A pile of bandit corpses was found." My hand froze. ...Oh. That. "Whoever did it... was brutal. They were all gruesomely slaughtered." "...Did you see them with your own eyes?" "Of course, we did, who else would have? Most of the bodies had been animal food, but you could still see how the fight went down." Uncle Matchildeuk clicked his tongue. "I was so shocked when I first found it." Uncle Guyeong added, "Seojin, Brother Gwaktu’s not saying this for no reason. Keep it in mind. The back mountain is kind of dangerous right now. We don’t know what kind of lunatic is roaming around." Don’t worry, uncle. I’ve already been targeted for a while. And if you’re going to help, just leave quickly. "I heard Hao Moon was asking about the incident too." "Of course, they'll spread rumors recklessly." "We've got to step up our game if we don't want to fall behind." So even Hao Moon is inquiring. Not unexpected. Cheongwol's massacre scene unfolded like a build-up in the novel. Uncle Matchildeuk, having knocked back another drink, let out a complaint. "Who on earth did it? Committing such a brazen act right under Mount Emei... they're no ordinary person." Uncle Guyeong nodded in agreement. "It was horrific." "Was it those from the Demon Worship Cult? Or some passing expert? I didn't hear of anyone passing through. A reclusive master, maybe? Brother Gwaktu, what do you think?" Mr. Gwaktu put a dumpling in his mouth and said, "You guys have a problem. Lack of imagination." "Imagination...?" "Yes. To say you’ve got ability, you need to indulge in a bit more speculation." "...What speculation...?" Mr. Gwaktu closed his eyes, then opened them, shaking his head and smiling as if it was all absurd. "Nah. Maybe I was overthinking." "Oh, come on. Just spill it," urged Uncle Guyeong. Mr. Gwaktu, after a long sip, with a somewhat playful but strangely piercing tone, remarked, "…What if there's someone afflicted with Inner Demons in the Emei Sect?"