Chapter 20
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Point Cang Regression 20
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‘Damn... fuck! How the hell did I end up tangled with a demon like this...!’
He'd been enjoying a cushy life for quite some time as the acting Division Leader of the proxy branch.
But then, out of nowhere, a massive calamity struck, and Division Leader Old Face Beggar truly felt like howling at the sky in despair.
‘That fucking Sichuan Tang Clan...!’
"Division Leader? Are you listening to me?"
"......Ah."
Of course, with Gwang-il staring him down blankly right in front of his face, he couldn't even vent properly.
"You just can't seem to pull yourself together. Even at an age ripe for elder status, you're still stuck as Division Leader because of this?"
A muttering aside, born of utter disappointment at the pathetic display.
Naturally, Gwang-il's gaze flicked toward the worn three-knotted sash at Old Face Beggar's waist.
Of course, to Old Face Beggar, this was like a bolt from the blue, a thunderclap out of nowhere, leaving him utterly dumbfounded.
"Elder status? How old do you think I am to be an elder already?!"
"Hm? Don't most become elders around sixty?"
In my memory, the Beggars' Sect was definitely like that.
The genuine sincerity dripping from his whispered mumbling went unnoticed by either of the two conversing parties, who couldn't care less what some third-generation disciple remembered about the sect.
They simply...
"S-sixty?! Sixty my ass! I'm only twenty-eight this year, you little shit!"
Old Face Beggar, suddenly accused of being twice his actual age, flew into a rage.
"I'm in the prime of my twenty-eight years! What the hell is this sixty bullshit...!"
"......Division Leader, that's a bit much. I wasn't talking about your son's age."
"Son? You little punk! Where's a beggar gonna get a son?!"
"......"
He already harbored a deep resentment toward the name "Old Face Beggar," forcibly given by his master upon joining the sect.
And now, in the midst of that, came this harsh remark pointing out his "old face," which had been practically taboo in this proxy branch.
So it was no wonder Old Face Beggar's face flushed red as a ripe persimmon.
And before this heartfelt fury, even the Dark Heaven Emperor of the world had no choice but to fall silent for a moment.
"......My regrets."
"R-regrets?! Regrets my ass! What gives you the right to regret my face, you regretful little shit!"
He huffed and puffed like he was about to smack him one, for a good while.
But then, realizing late that this was some remote peak on Point Cang Mountain—and that he absolutely could not let anyone know he was here—Old Face Beggar's expression turned gloomy as he muttered softly.
"My sweet beggar's life, how did it come to this......"
"Ahem! Enough with the excuses."
"?!"
How brazen, to poke at someone's sore spot and then call it excuses!
Old Face Beggar glared daggers, but unfortunately, Gwang-il paid no mind to those furious wildcat eyes.
‘Surprising that a face like that belongs to someone under thirty.’
It was just that simple impression, nothing more.
Besides, weren't there more urgent matters to discuss right now?
"I've smoothed things over with the Sect Leader and elders regarding the various disasters caused by your laziness and incompetence here in the proxy branch."
"......"
"Thanks to your incompetence, innocent children nearly lost their young lives."
Stab!
"The Yun Merchants, victimized by the Sichuan Tang Clan's insidious schemes and threats, along with the rest of the southern trade networks, nearly plunged into irreparable ruin."
Stab!
"What can be done about the messes your incompetence has already wrought? Nothing but for some capable soul to step up and clean up every last pile of shit."
Staaaab!
"Urk!"
He staggered back!
With every word Gwang-il finished, Old Face Beggar felt like razor-sharp daggers were plunging into his chest.
They said the tongue could be sharper than any blade!
This was straight-up slicing him to ribbons with words!
‘Goddamn it!’
But harsh reality was that he had no retort, even if he grew ten mouths.
While he and his proxy branch beggars lounged in peace, all sorts of horrors had been unfolding in the shadows—that cold fact left no room for excuses.
As he clamped his mouth shut with nothing to say, Gwang-il, who had been watching his reaction coolly, made his judgment.
‘Not a total piece of trash, at least.’
If a martial artist's worth was proven by personal prowess,
A Beggars' Sect member's was undeniably in gathering intel capably, analyzing and processing it, and delivering it swiftly.
By that measure, the old-looking beggar before him was utterly pathetic.
But seeing him recognize his own failings without a shred of pathetic excuses showed at least some potential for redemption.
Even in his past life as Evil Path Alliance Leader, the Dark Heaven Emperor's iron rule had been to decapitate anyone who wouldn't own up to their mistakes.
‘No choice now but to roll him hard and make him pull his weight.’
Conversely, if he had the passion and will, Gwang-il was more than willing to rehabilitate him into someone who could do his part properly.
‘People are amazing like that. Keep pushing them, and they turn capable before they know it.’
Of course, whether Old Face Beggar would welcome such "kindness" was debatable.
But the heavy silence, each lost in thought, didn't last long.
Gwang-il cleared his throat awkwardly to break the tension and began laying out his true intentions step by step.
"In any case, from now on, send regular beggar reports to headquarters every month with news from the proxy branch and all of southern Yun Province. Naturally including Sichuan Tang Clan movements."
"......Understood."
People came daily with sacks of money to buy info, yet...
Now they wanted delivery all the way to Point Cang Sword Sect?
‘Oh, my fate!’
But he could stomach that much, at least.
Someone under him would handle the trips between the proxy branch and Point Cang Mountain, not him.
But the next leisurely words made even Old Face Beggar, who'd steeled himself, pop his eyes wide...
"Separately, you must relay info to me discreetly as well."
"...?"
"Especially, keep a close eye on southern barbarian movements at all times..."
"Whoa, whoa. Hold up? What the hell is this—a beggar taking a bath?!"
Old Face Beggar slapped out his blackened, grime-crusted palm and spoke in a chilling tone, his face rigid.
A complete reversal from his previous sloppy demeanor.
And for good reason.
What Gwang-il was demanding was...
"You dare try to acquire sect intel for personal use? And as a Point Cang disciple, no less?"
Asking the Beggars' Sect for private info was no big deal, normally.
The problem was a disciple of a major orthodox sect demanding secret reports behind his own sect's back.
This was no small matter Old Face Beggar—who'd been dragged around all this time—could answer lightly.
Mishandle it, and the Beggars' Sect would bear the stigma of being toyed with by a wayward disciple, plus soured ties with Point Cang's leadership.
"Pretend you didn't hear that."
"......"
"It'd be bad for me, for you, for both of us."
"......"
A far more stubborn, hardline rejection than expected.
But precisely because of that, Gwang-il trusted this old-looking beggar even more.
Had he caved to the pressure and agreed meekly, Gwang-il would've suspected his motives and been disgusted by the spineless selfishness.
‘Even a guy like this holds true to the Beggars' Sect spirit, huh?’
Well, this was the proxy branch Division Leader who'd met a heroic end alongside Point Cang in his past life.
"Heh."
The relief of having a reliable neighbor nearby softened Gwang-il's stern lips into a faint smile.
"Oh? Smirking? You think this is funny?"
Of course, that slender smile of satisfaction struck the beggar opposite him as a spicy provocation.
"You, you little brat...! If I run straight to Point Cang right now and rat all this out, you'll be..."
"The Beast Palace will invade southern Yun."
"...in for a beating...! What...?"
As he snarled threats with a twisted face,
A single sentence cut in sharply, seizing Old Face Beggar's mind.
His pupils dilated wildly at once.
"You... what did you just say to me...?"
He doubted his own ears after hearing something utterly unbelievable.
And since Gwang-il had anticipated this reaction, he kindly repeated himself.
"I said the filthy beast hordes of the Southern Barbarian Beast Palace will invade southern Yun. Division Leader."
"Th-that's ridiculous...!"
"Whether I'm telling the truth or lying is for the Beggars' Sect—who lives off information—to verify themselves."
"...!"
A statement too chilling and terrifying for a joke.
Toward Old Face Beggar's immediate sharp denial, Gwang-il—recalling that horrific past—unleashed a stream of icy warnings.
"Less than ten years remain. Until those savage bastards swarm up here, ripe for the grinding."
"N-no, wait! Hold on...!"
"Over a thousand warriors, matched by spirit beasts and animal hordes. For our sect alone to repel them would be exceedingly difficult."
"No, waaaait!"
Grab!
Old Face Beggar bellowed and seized Gwang-il's collar roughly, his eyes blazing with blue flames of fury.
Forget that this was Point Cang Mountain or their secret meeting—everything flew from his head.
"You punk! Think words are cheap? Do you even grasp what it means for the Western Outer Evil Palaces to invade the Central Plains before you spout off...!"
"......Tch."
"...What?"
"I know."
Slap!
"Guh!"
With a casual flick, Gwang-il brushed off the hands clutching his collar, straightened his rumpled clothes, and continued calmly.
"I know. Better than anyone. I dare say no one in this era understands that fucked-up nightmare better than I do."
"What the hell does that...!"
"Believe me or not, that's your call, Division Leader. But."
Haaa!
The past nightmare that had filled his mind completely.
Gwang-il shook it off with a heavy sigh and met Old Face Beggar's eyes with a gaze dull and empty with profound futility.
"When the consequences hit, neither the Beggars' Sect nor you will escape responsibility."
"...!"
"Isn't monitoring southern barbarians the proxy branch's main duty anyway? Just do your job a bit more diligently."
"......"
"Go investigate yourselves. See if they're mustering troops, breeding more beasts, slipping spies into southern Yun."
Step, step.
Unable to linger longer, he took heavy steps away, but his sunken voice flowed on relentlessly.
And at the end,
"......And whether they're tied to the Sichuan Tang Clan behind this recent scheme."
"Wh-what?!"
Those thunderbolt final words slithered like a serpent into the ears of Old Face Beggar, frozen like a stone statue in utter chaos.
"The judgment is yours, Division Leader. The decisions, the consequences that follow—all on you."
"W-wait! What do you mean by...!"
"But promise me just this one thing."
More shocking than anything he'd heard yet.
As Old Face Beggar desperately opened his mouth, Gwang-il's retreating back—without a backward glance—stabbed like a thorn into his eyes.
"If my words prove true, then you'll grant everything I asked earlier."
"......"
Leaving Old Face Beggar futilely grasping at empty air with his outstretched hand,
Gwang-il's shadowy figure vanished into the dark thicket.