Deep Mountains, Secluded Valleys

Two years ago. Ever since his master underwent rejuvenation—gaining youth but losing her mind to dementia—Yoo Jeong's life had been a whirlwind of chaos.

The biggest problem was money. No matter how much one tried to resolve food, clothing, and shelter in the mountains, there was a limit to what a single person could do. Take rice, for instance. How could anyone farm in the deep recesses of Mount Kuaiji?

Furthermore, his rejuvenated master's fussiness over side dishes was another headache. Unlike before, when she would feed Yoo Jeong cooked food for his growth while avoiding it herself, his master had changed. She began to actively crave cooked food—especially meat—and the childish master's whining became a major source of worry for Yoo Jeong.

He needed money. That was where Yoo Jeong's dilemma began. But how do I make money?

Yoo Jeong had lived in Muo Valley since he was even smaller than his now-shrunken master. Most of his life had been spent training in martial arts, and his only leisure time consisted of listening to his master's tales of the past or reading heroic epics.

So, Yoo Jeong decided to act according to what he knew—like the martial artists in those heroic epics.

He headed to the village he had visited a few times while holding his master's hand. Walking up to the only inn in the village, Yoo Jeong kicked the door open and shouted:

"I've come to collect protection money!"

"Huh? Ah. Yoo Jeong, you're here."

"Yes. Here is what you asked for last time."

Yoo Jeong set down the A-frame backpack he carried on his back and looked at Jang. They had known each other for two years now. Since they met once every seven days, Jang's face was the most familiar to him after his master's.

"When three people walk together, there is always a teacher among them." If Yoo Jeong's martial arts master was the Sword Empress, then Jang was his teacher of worldly affairs, socializing the boy who knew nothing of the secular world.

"You've brought quite a haul. Jang Sam said he was in a hurry for these. If I let him know, he'll come running in no time."

After establishing that initial connection, Yoo Jeong realized his previous behavior had been entirely wrong and began helping out with chores around the Jang Family Village.

Jang, the owner of the only inn in the village, would request tasks from Yoo Jeong and pay him accordingly. Having grown up in the mountains, Yoo Jeong could traverse the peaks as skillfully as any seasoned herb gatherer. His primary tasks involved foraging for medicinal herbs and mushrooms, or hunting wild game.

The money he earned this way was far from actual protection money, but in memory of their first encounter, they still jokingly referred to it as "protection money" even now, two years later.

"If these aren't for the inn, should I take them over there?"

"No, no need. You must be busy enough as it is. Jang Sam is probably slacking off at home anyway. No need to make the trip. Let's see here."

It was still early, and the inn wasn't busy yet. The counter was empty, as the proprietress had likely stepped out for a stroll. Jang began counting out silver coins from behind the counter.

"So, will you be taking a portion of the payment in food again this time?"

"Yes. Some rice, and... um..."

"I also have some freshly steamed pork."

"I'll take that, please."

"Alright. Wait here."

Jang headed toward the kitchen, calling out for his son. Yoo Jeong watched his retreating figure for a moment before turning his head.

There sat an old beggar. The old man had been staring intently at Yoo Jeong ever since he first stepped inside. Yoo Jeong had tried his best to ignore him, sensing the unmistakable aura of a master, as he had absolutely no desire to get involved with people of the Murim.

Ignoring him might make me look even more suspicious. However, it seemed simple avoidance wouldn't shake the old man's interest. Thus, Yoo Jeong decided to confront him directly.

"Stop staring."

At the bluntly tossed words, the old beggar picked his ear.

"What does it matter to you what I look at?"

Yoo Jeong, who was about to snap back at the nonchalant reply, found himself at a loss for words. What a shameless old man. He could tell instinctively from the old man's sly grin that if he pressed further, the beggar would only offer some absurd excuse, like claiming he was looking elsewhere.

"Aigoo, tsk tsk. Youngsters these days have such rotten attitudes. They have no respect for their elders."

The old beggar picked his teeth, exposing a row of yellowed teeth, yet his eyes remained fixed on Yoo Jeong. His sly smile, deliberately provocative tone, and vulgar demeanor made him look like a common street thug, but Yoo Jeong did not take him lightly. Beneath those deep wrinkles, the old man's eyes gleamed with the sharp, calculating gaze of a hawk.

Yoo Jeong made up his mind. He would leave immediately.

Whenever she spoke of her days traversing the Murim as the Sword Empress, his master always appended those words at the end. Even if one performed good deeds with the best of intentions, it could easily turn into someone else's grudge and return to haunt them.

This was the very first rule Yoo Jeong had established for himself after his master succumbed to dementia:

Once his mind was made up, his actions were swift. Just as Jang emerged with the sack of rice and the carefully wrapped food, Yoo Jeong sent a brief message via sound transmission.

—I'll head out straight away today.

He snatched the items and immediately bolted for the door. Or rather, he tried to.

"Hehehe. Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

A black bamboo staff. It wasn't pure black bamboo, as hints of its original green color peeked through here and there. The four-foot-long staff was thrust in front of Yoo Jeong's chest, blocking his path.

Fast. Yoo Jeong realized instantly that the man was a master. His skills far exceeded what his aura had suggested. Though the old man stood there picking his nose with a lazy, sloppy posture, Yoo Jeong did not let his guard down for a second.

"Aigoo, elder! What are you doing?" From behind them, a flustered Jang tried to urge the old beggar to stop.

But the old man didn't even pretend to listen. Instead, he nudged his staff slightly and spoke.

"Young one, this old body has a question for you."

"…Isn't this coercion?"

"What? Hahaha! Child, what strength does a decrepit old beggar like me have to threaten a young lad like you?"

"If it isn't coercion, then please remove this staff. I have no intention of speaking with you."

At those resolute words, the old man's dirt-crusted eyebrows twitched upward.

"Just as it is your freedom not to answer, it is also your freedom to leave. Go ahead, leave if you have the skill."

The old man waved the staff ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right in front of Yoo Jeong's eyes as if teasing him. Seeing that the beggar had no intention of backing down easily, Yoo Jeong let out a sigh.

"Very well, then."

The moment he made his decision, his internal energy surged. How should I handle this? Before his mind could even finish the thought, his body took a step forward.

A brief moment later, the old beggar's startled cry of "What?!" echoed behind Yoo Jeong as he left the inn behind.

It had been nearly fifty years since he earned the moniker Goegelgae, the "Eccentric Beggar." By now, the name Goegelgae was far more familiar to him than the name his parents had given him.

However, the character "Goe" (eccentric/extraordinary) wasn't attached to his name simply because of his cranky personality. He was a goegyeol—an extraordinary talent. From his raw physical strength to his innate genius for martial arts, he possessed it all. Having lost his parents at a young age, he drifted like floating weed until he happened to join the Beggars' Sect.

With his natural talent, he immediately became the disciple of the Grand Sect Leader from two generations ago. He was twenty at the time. Although it was a late age to begin martial arts, he stood out so prominently that he was even nominated as a candidate for the next Sect Leader.

Yet, he threw that position away simply because he had no interest in it. From his sheer strength to his unconventional path, it was only natural that his moniker became Goegelgae.

But right now, he had met someone far more extraordinary and eccentric than himself.

"Ahem. Are you really going to ignore an elder when he's speaking to you?"

He had lost track of the boy's movements for a split second. This was an incredibly foreign experience for Goegelgae. In the world of masters, where a single exchange could claim a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠life, the importance of one's senses and personal domain could not be overstated.

When he had blocked Yoo Jeong at the inn's door just moments ago, the distance up to his Gyeok-oh-bong (Dog-Striking Staff) was undeniably within Goegelgae's domain. Yet, he had failed to track him. He had failed to react within his own domain.

If he had been an assassin, this old beggar's head would have rolled.

To think he had almost lost his life to a child who looked barely fifteen, let alone twenty. Even if he told his companion, that stubborn Taoist, he would surely be dismissed as a windbag.

Wait. "By any chance, are you a senior master?"

There was a martial art known as the Art of Youthful Retention (주안공). It was a minor technique primarily practiced by women or libertines to maintain a youthful appearance through internal energy. Of course, because it required an incredibly inefficient expenditure of internal energy, almost no true masters utilized it.

Still, the idea of him being a master who practiced the Art of Youthful Retention was far more plausible than a mere fifteen- or sixteen-year-old child being comparable to Goegelgae, an elder of the Beggars' Sect. He floated the question with that thought in mind, but...

Yoo Jeong, who was walking ahead, merely cast a brief glance over his shoulder. Ignoring Goegelgae just as he had done before, he quickened his pace.

"Well, damn it all. Did you paint your mouth with gold or something?"

Irritated by the continuous disregard, Goegelgae's temper flared. Unable to hold back any longer, the old beggar finally mobilized his body in earnest.

Whoosh! He leaped forward with blinding speed, flipping his body mid-air to block Yoo Jeong's path once more. And then...

"I don't know what grand master taught you, but did they fail to teach you manners?"

Tap, tap. Goegelgae tapped his staff against the ground as he asked, and Yoo Jeong's expression hardened.

Ah, so mentioning his sect gets a reaction. Seeing Yoo Jeong finally react, Goegelgae smiled with inward satisfaction.

"My fellow martial artists call this old beggar Goegelgae. Now, whether you're a senior master or a mere child, where does your sect hail from?"

"You appear to be of the Beggars' Sect." Yoo Jeong spoke, his expression shifting from emotionless to freezing cold.

"I have heard that the martial artists of the Beggars' Sect are righteous and chivalrous. Are you all naturally this insolent?"

"Hahaha! Do you think my moniker is Goegelgae for nothing? When you gather all the beggars under heaven, there's bound to be at least one eccentric old coot like me."

"…What is your reason for doing this?"

"Because I'm curious!"

A wide grin exposed his yellow teeth. Yoo Jeong let out a deep sigh at the sight.

"I do not wish to get involved with the Murim. But if you persist..."

A faint, ominous glint flickered in Yoo Jeong's calm eyes. "I will have to use force."

It was a quiet warning. Yet, Goegelgae did not back down. Instead, he took an even more aggressive step toward Yoo Jeong, his face filled with a sly, mocking grin.

"That is exactly what I am hoping for!"

He laughed heartily, maintaining a relaxed posture, but Goegelgae was naturally on high alert. Even if he had been caught off guard, losing track of an opponent within his own domain was proof enough that the youth was a formidable adversary.

He braced his stance, gripping his staff tightly so he could strike at any moment, and watched his opponent intently through his wrinkled eyes.

Despite the sudden escalation, Yoo Jeong showed no panic or agitation, observing Goegelgae with tranquil eyes. Slowly, a cold killing intent began to swirl within them.

Could he be the disciple of a demonic practitioner? The thought suddenly crossed Goegelgae's mind. Such refined killing intent. Judging by his speech and the hands revealed when he deflected the Gyeok-oh-bong, he truly seemed to be a youth of his apparent age rather than a master of youthful retention. Yet, emitting such perfectly controlled killing intent was only possible for those intimately familiar with taking lives.

And yet, there was no trace of demonic energy to be felt. He was truly a bizarre opponent. Thus, Goegelgae struck first.

"Let's see where your roots lie!"

Taking a wide stride to close the distance, he drew a semi-circle with his Gyeok-oh-bong.

Generally, people assume that staff techniques rely primarily on thrusts. After all, aside from lacking a blade, a staff is shaped similarly to a spear. However, because it lacks a blade, a staff's thrust is significantly less lethal than a spear's. Therefore, staff techniques rely on blunt strikes.

Although the Gyeok-oh-bong could not compare to the Beggars' Sect's sacred relic, the Dog Beating Staff, it was still a weapon granted only to the Six-Knot Dharma Beggars and Seven-Knot Elders who formed the backbone of the Dog Beating Staff Formation.

Thwack! The Gyeok-oh-bong flexed elastically, adding momentum to the strike. In the open ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠field just outside the Jang Family Village, a crisp cracking sound echoed through the unobstructed space.

Yet, Goegelgae's expression was far from pleased. Instead, it was filled with utter shock.

What in the world...? The bamboo staff in his hands vibrated violently. Yoo Jeong had calmly deflected the lightning-fast strike with his bare hand.

It was a clash between a bare hand and a wooden staff. Yet, a massive rebound force, as if he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had struck a bronze bell, reverberated through his palm. It was an absurd level of internal energy.

Judging by his hands, he definitely isn't a master of youthful retention. It was an achievement unbelievable even if he had begun training in his mother's womb. As Goegelgae seriously began to suspect demonic arts, Yoo Jeong, who had set down his load, made his move.

"Hah!"

Startled by the sword strike that plunged down like a bolt of lightning, Goegelgae hastily evaded using his footwork. His figure swayed erratically like a drunkard. It was the Eight Drunken Immortals Steps (취팔선보), a footwork technique always ranked at the very top of the Beggars' Sect's renowned body-lightening arts.

But Yoo Jeong did not let him slip away easily. His sword pressed in with a momentum that threatened to sever Goegelgae's neck at any moment. The trajectory of his blade...

It was neither an illusion sword meant to deceive the eyes, nor a shifting sword that utilized countless variations. It was a sword strike so straightforward it was almost simple. And yet...

It's fast. Despite being a slashing-focused form, its speed was reminiscent of the Pointy Hill Sect's Sun-Shooting Sword Technique (사일검법). Furthermore, it flowed like water, evoking the Wudang Sect's Wisdom Sword (혜검), making it just as dazzling and versatile as any illusionary or shifting sword technique.

Goegelgae frantically swung his Gyeok-oh-bong to parry the strikes, but even when blocked, his opponent took another giant stride forward, gradually throwing Goegelgae's defense into disarray.

I need to create distance. He had allowed the boy to get too close. To turn this disadvantageous situation around, Goegelgae needed to reclaim his optimal range. Naturally, his opponent had no intention of letting him go easily.

Thus, even in his frantic state, Goegelgae braced his abdomen and channeled his internal energy. The qi surged past his Okdang and Hwagae acupoints, reaching his Cheondol acupoint. Along with a sudden, deep breath, that internal energy erupted.

"HYAAAH!!!"

The shockwave of internal energy struck the air, shaking the surroundings. Hit by the unexpected sonic attack, Yoo Jeong, who had been silently wielding his lethal sword, grimaced.

Fearless Great Barking (불외태은). Though not as famous as the Shaolin Sect's Lion's Roar (사자후) or the Kunlun Sect's Blue Dragon's Cry (창룡음), it was a secret ultimate technique of the Beggars' Sect and a core element of the Dog Beating Staff Formation alongside the Dog Beating Staff Technique.

True to its reputation as a secret technique, its power was formidable even when unleashed in haste. Goegelgae did not miss the split second his opponent faltered. Swiftly leaping backward, Goegelgae reorganized his stance.

However, his own expression was far from easy. His opponent's strength far exceeded his expectations, and the forced circulation of his internal energy had taken a toll. Cold sweat broke out, straining his aging body. Wiping away the grime running down his brow, he observed the youth with a heavy, solemn gaze.

"Your sword and your eyes are filled with killing intent, yet your swordplay is full of profound mystery. Child, who on earth is the esteemed elder of your sect?"

Unlike his previous frivolous demeanor, he asked with deep gravity. But there was no reply. Yoo Jeong calmly prepared his next sword form.

The experienced old monster read the clear intent to silence him forever in that stance and swallowed hard. He couldn't just stand here and let himself be killed. Adjusting his grip from two hands to one, he lowered his staff toward the ground.

Spreading his empty hand wide toward his opponent, Goegelgae prepared to unleash his true ultimate techniques.

Seeing this, Yoo Jeong also slowly adjusted his sword stance. It was at that very moment...

"That is enough. Both you, young hero, and you, Goegelgae." A Taoist with a wispy, sage-like beard dropped down from above, stepping right between the two.