Chapter 156: What Is This Hobo-Like... (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 156: What Is This Hobo-Like... (2)
The Beggar’s Sect was a member of the Ten Sect Alliance, tasked with gathering intelligence for the Orthodox Faction.
If the Murim Alliance was the heart of the Orthodox Faction, then the Beggar’s Sect was its eyes and ears.
One might wonder how a single sect could shoulder such a heavy responsibility.
The answer lay in its composition. The Beggar’s Sect was made up of hobos.
That was the key.
Even in Hanam, the great city representing the Central Plains, hobos were everywhere. And these hobos survived by gathering snippets of conversation and secret tidbits of information.
No piece of information, no matter how small, ever truly slipped through the cracks.
There's a saying that if you collect enough specks of dust, you'll eventually have a mountain. Successful merchants often scoff at this, arguing that collecting trivialities only yields more trivialities.
Yet, when those tiny pieces accumulate without end, a mountain does indeed form. Such was the nature of the Beggar’s Sect's intelligence network.
In this world, there is no such thing as useless information. One man's trash is another man's treasure. The sheer volume of information the sect collected daily was immeasurable.
As the number of hobos in the Central Plains grew, so too did the power and reach of the Beggar’s Sect.
While the sect might seem lacking compared to other members of the Ten Sect Alliance—composed as it was of hobos—its position was secure. Everyone recognized the immense power inherent in the information it controlled.
Chuwong had been a member of the Beggar’s Sect for nearly forty years.
He had started at the age of five, becoming a disciple of the Tamer of Wild Dogs, one of the Great Beggars of the sect. It had been a very long time.
Of course, this fact wasn't widely known, but Chuwong was a talented individual who held a prominent position within the sect.
Despite knowing that, that damned old man has had me stuck on this trash job for ten years.
A full decade had passed since he'd been stationed in Hanam.
His master had promised him a promotion upon completion of this assignment, but those words were spoken ten years ago.
Chuwong, you idiot hobo, did you really have no better option than to trust the words of another hobo?
Do you know what new recruits to the Beggar’s Sect are taught when they first join?
That all hobos under heaven are family, and they must trust one another to survive.
Nothing could be more bullshit than that.
Chuwong—no, anyone with even five years in the sect… Scratch that. You'd figure it out in a year or two.
Hobos should never trust each other.
Could you really believe in a truce among people who lived solely for today? These were men who would resort to anything if they were desperate enough.
I was crazy for ever believing it. Tsk.
—My student.
—Yes.
—Hiccup… I'll give you the seat of Second Beggar. So, you better… hiccup… do a good job…
The position of Second Beggar was the third highest rank in the Beggar’s Sect. It was known to be a relatively easy life.
…Easy life, my ass. I'm still just a hobo.
Chuwong knew the harsh reality of a hobo's existence better than anyone, so empty promises of a comfortable position didn't excite him.
Setting those thoughts aside, he focused on the boy standing before him.
This was the youth who had likely caused the most famous incident in the Central Plains that very day. A martial artist destined to make a name for himself in the near future.
The kid looks quite intimidating.
He appeared younger than the members under the Fifth Beggar who reported to Chuwong.
And yet…
Such a young boy had managed to surpass that wall—the very same wall Chuwong himself had struggled against for so long.
Furthermore, the boy seemed extremely skilled in using his body, as if he had already undergone the process of unifying his qi and physique.
Talent. That terrifying word struck Chuwong with particular force today.
"So…" A young voice, laced with a cold tone, broke the silence. "Why did you come to see me?"
A flicker of shock passed over the boy's face, but it was quickly replaced by his usual expression. He didn't seem like a bully, yet Chuwong felt an intimidating aura from him for some strange reason.
However…
…This kid?
The boy wasn't looking down on him. Because of that, Chuwong had to adjust his initial assessment.
The Dragons and Phoenixes Tournament was ostensibly a banquet for young prodigies to establish connections. But it had a hidden purpose: to precisely rank the various clans of the Orthodox Faction.
This was evident just by observing the event. Young prodigies were seated according to their clan's power or the size of their donations to the Alliance. They were even given different treatment regarding the arena, barracks, and other accommodations.
Discrimination was rampant, even among the blood relatives of the noble clans. If asked if this was wrong, Chuwong would say no. After all, that was simply how the world worked.
One might argue that talent alone could allow someone to climb the ranks and become a new star. But that was practically impossible. How could anyone surpass the scions of noble clans, who received ample support from their families, unless the gods themselves bestowed a miracle?
One only needed to look at the current Dragons and Phoenixes of the Central Plains to see they all hailed from noble clans. A miracle was called a miracle for a reason. And Chuwong knew this better than most.
It was a given that he would be looked down upon by those born into noble clans. They were born into their privilege and simply took advantage of it. But Chuwong was just a hobo.
He might have been a disciple of a Great Beggar, granting him a high position within his sect… but in the eyes of the noble clans, he was just an ordinary beggar. Some might have noticed his affiliation due to his presence at the duel, but that earned him no special treatment.
Who cares if I'm from the Beggar’s Sect? I'm still just a hobo.
Their efforts to distance themselves from him, the disdainful glances—they made it clear they didn't even want to speak to him. Such reactions were inevitable when facing a hobo. Chuwong had long since grown numb to the hurt.
Instead, he even used this prejudice as a convenient way to judge others. Just like now.
The Gu Clan of Shanxi might not be one of the Four Noble Clans, but it was still famous. And the boy, Gu Yangcheon, was all but confirmed to be its Young Lord. Chuwong had expected a rough, arrogant personality…
But unlike my expectations…
His eyes held no condescension or contempt, only a sense of clear boundaries. Yet, even that seemed somewhat dim, making it difficult for Chuwong to read him.
Chuwong rarely encountered people who left him feeling this unsettled. Peng Woojin from the Peng Clan and the Sword Dragon from Mount Hua were similar. He hadn't met the Sleeping Dragon, and as for the Sword Phoenix… Chuwong didn't even want to think about her.
Chuwong was more familiar with martial artists from the older generation. And judging by the positions those martial artists held in today's world… he had to rethink his opinion of Gu Yangcheon.
"It's nothing major… but thanks to the performance Young Master Gu displayed in today's duel, the Beggar’s Sect is viewing you in a very, very favorable light."
"The Beggar’s Sect? Views me favorably?"
"Of course! How could we not be interested!"
After all, he had beaten the Lightning Dragon like a dog. Furthermore, the Flame Arts he demonstrated at the start of the duel were something Chuwong wouldn't dare to attempt to replicate.
Deciding to stroke the young master's ego a bit more, Chuwong continued, "Perhaps you might even become the new Heavenly Drag—"
As Chuwong was baiting him with compliments, Gu Yangcheon suddenly smirked. It was unmistakably a smile of ridicule.
"Heavenly Dragon, you say?"
A sudden, chilling atmosphere caused a slight sweat to break out on Chuwong's back.
Huh? Did that come out of nowhere? If not, maybe he thinks I'm only seeing him as a mere Heavenly Dragon because of his own arrogance. Understandable, reaching the Peak Realm at such a young age would give anyone a big head.
After all, arrogance often accompanied confidence and spirit.
However, what came out of Gu Yangcheon's mouth next was not what he expected.
"Doesn't that title already belong to Shaolin?"
A slow, cold voice that felt like the current season. It wasn't a question or an assumption, but a statement of certainty.
Chuwong was forced to put on a smile. "Hahaha, what are you talking about! What does Shaolin have to do with this all of a sudden?"
He didn't show his shock. Years of living as a hobo had taught him how to conceal his inner thoughts. But inside, he was reeling as if an earthquake had just struck.
How? How does he know?
Just as Gu Yangcheon had said, the next generation's Heavenly Dragon had already been decided. Only the Murim Alliance, Shaolin, and a select few within the Beggar’s Sect should be privy to that information.
At least, that's how it should be. So how does this boy know? He didn't just say it's decided; he specifically mentioned Shaolin. How much does he know?
As Chuwong stared, Gu Yangcheon continued speaking with that same smirk. "Never mind if I'm wrong, though."
He didn't seem to care at all.
Why not?
Chuwong fell deeper into thought. The title of Heavenly Dragon was dreamed of by every young prodigy in the Central Plains. It was reserved for the best of the best. If the boy already knew the title had been given to someone else…
Then why doesn't Gu Yangcheon feel any anger?
"So, did you just come here for a chit-chat?"
"No, it's not that, but…" Chuwong felt like he was losing control of the conversation. With each sentence, the boy seemed to seize more authority.
It was simple. It was the atmosphere. Gu Yangcheon didn't say a word, waiting for his opponent to speak first. He didn't appear desperate, as if he wanted nothing. And he wasn't an easy person to talk to, perhaps due to his noble background.
…It feels like I'm talking to an elder of a noble clan.
That might have been an exaggeration, but it was truly how Chuwong felt.
His reason for visiting Gu Yangcheon was mainly to gauge what kind of person he was. However, he had also come on a hunch, following his own intuition.
For some reason, the Beggar’s Sect was focusing its attention on a boy named Jang Seonyeon, the son of the Harmonic Sword. They must have made some deal with the Murim Alliance.
Though I don't know the details.
But Chuwong had no intention of refusing the order. He had long resigned himself to living at the bottom of society, with no grand ambitions of becoming a force for good in the world.
Yet, the thought that struck him after seeing Gu Yangcheon was…
I could do a little side mission, couldn't I?
This was the perk of his job. He could spot the rising stars who would outshine everyone else faster than anyone. And if the timing was right, he could approach them, just as he was doing now.
Though it would become a problem if the sect found out.
I have to find a way to survive, you know…
Chuwong knew the sect wouldn't give him anything, no matter how many years passed. He had even talked about finding his own way to make a living, but they had prevented him from doing that, too.
I'll just find my own way to put food in my mouth. At this rate, I'm going to die of starvation.
Naturally, Chuwong kept these thoughts to himself.
And Gu Yangcheon, who was staring at Chuwong…
This guy… isn't he the Hobo Boss?
…already knew exactly who he was.
* * *
The Fighting Dog, Chuwong. He was also called the Beggar King.
In my past life, when the world began to be plagued by demonic humans… it was obviously a disaster for hobos as well. Calamity spares no one.
The Beggar’s Sect survived by collecting information, but it was relatively weak in martial power. It lacked any real unity. As such, when the crisis hit, all its members could do was wait for death.
They begged for help, but the Orthodox Faction didn't heed their call. The hobos were deemed useless. The Orthodox Faction was already struggling to save itself; it couldn't afford to help the lives of beggars.
But the Beggar King was a miraculous figure for all hobos. He brought together the scattered, hopeless hobos who were teetering on the edge of death. He also played a crucial role in stopping the Heavenly Demon during the demonic onslaught, supporting Wi Seol-Ah as the leader.
He had a superb survival instinct. It was more accurate to call it that than a mere sense.
And such a man is in this current state at this point in time.
The man who had run around desperately to save even one more hobo in my past life now looked just like any ordinary beggar.
…Although, to be fair, he was still a hobo in the future, too.
He was simply a talented hobo.
I had to think about my next steps as I watched Chuwong speak with a smile on his face.
I didn't expect him to approach me so soon.
I had expected that people would approach me after I beat the living hell out of Namgung Cheonjun, whether they were from the Alliance or the Beggar’s Sect. I just hadn't expected it to be this fast.
Is he acting on his own?
It certainly seemed that way, at least to me. I didn't know his intentions, but it looked like he was interested in establishing a relationship with me.
Not bad.
The Beggar’s Sect was an organization officially recognized by the Murim Alliance itself. Even if the Alliance was rotting from within, it still held significant prestige in the eyes of the world. I could take advantage of that.
Especially if we're talking about the Fighting Dog.
That man, if I remembered correctly, was the disciple of one of the Great Beggars. Back when he unified all the hobos, he claimed he had been officially granted the seat of a Great Beggar, so I should correct myself. The staff Chuwong wielded back then was a treasure of the Beggar’s Sect, used by the Great Beggars themselves.
Which meant it would be beneficial for me to build a good relationship with this man. It also seemed like he wanted something from me.
However…
"You said your name was Master Chuwong, correct?"
"No, no… Young Master Gu shouldn't call me 'Master.' I'm just a beggar who lives on the street…"
"We could have a more detailed conversation after the entire tournament concludes. I think it's a bit early to have it now."
"Ahh…! Oh no, it seems I came here in too much of a hurry…! Time is the only thing I have, so I, Chuwong, am already grateful that Young Master Gu didn't reject me outright."
He looked so obsequious he might have offered me a kidney, which made me rather uncomfortable. He hadn't been like this in my past life.
—…Even if I die, my spirit will not!
I clearly remembered his appearance as he bit off a demonic human's ear. He had seemed rather cool back then.
"Hehehe…"
But seeing his dumb, smiling face now left me speechless.
…Anyway, instead of talking now, I should speak with him after the tournament ends, if I decide to do so.
I didn't have a special reason. It was simply because my name, after the tournament, would hold much greater value than it did now. Talking to him at this point felt like it would be a waste of future leverage.
"I'm honored that I was able to talk with you like this…!"
"...Yep."
Chuwong looked thankful on the surface, but there was likely a hint of disappointment underneath. Not only had we talked about basically nothing… but he was probably thinking the same thing I was.
He most likely knew that my name would hold a different weight after the tournament. And that situation wouldn't be the most favorable for the Beggar’s Sect.
"We will meet again next time for sure." I extended my hand as I said this.
When Chuwong saw my hand, his smile froze, and he stopped moving.
What's up with him?
I knew he was putting on an act, but I hadn't expected his mask to slip so suddenly. Of course, it was only for an instant before he immediately resumed his smiling facade and grabbed my hand, shaking it.
"After the tournament ends, I'll make sure to visit you again!"
After we bid farewell, Chuwong walked away, lowering his head and repeatedly bowing with each step.
How long is he planning to keep that up…?
I couldn't believe the Beggar King had been like this in his younger days. The cool image I had of him shattered in my mind.
After seeing Chuwong off, I returned to my barracks. The conversation hadn't been long, so it didn't take much time.
"...Hmm?"
When I entered, I saw Namgung Bi-ah sleeping with her head resting on Wi Seol-Ah's knees. I hurried over and shook her awake.
"Ommph…"
"You, how can you be sleeping!? You said you had a duel!"
Although my talk with Chuwong had been brief, enough time had passed that Namgung Bi-ah's duel should have already started. What kind of crazy person was late to a duel because they fell asleep?
"Hmmgh…"
"Quit talking in your sleep, wake up alrea—"
"...I already finished and came back…" Namgung Bi-ah mumbled.
I stopped, thinking I had misheard. "What?"
I asked again.
"The duel… I finished… It's fine…"
Her answer didn't change. She had already finished and come back? In that short amount of time? But then, what about Gu Jeolyub…?