The Beggar's Sudden Enlightenment
Honestly, this part needs to be understood. “Why the belt? What does that even mean?”
The old beggar immediately plopped down on the floor. It was his way of saying he wouldn’t take the liquor.
“Ahem. Don’t be so stingy, now.”
“Haa. So what is it, then?”
Since he said he wouldn’t take it, she’d let him off. “This old man is called Nukok, a beggar. Sometimes I’m also known as Subigu.”
Subigu Nukok. Cheong had no idea, but he was a famous beggar. His very nickname spoke of how well he kept secrets—a virtue you’d never find among the beggars of the Beggars’ Sect across the Central Plains. Of course, the reason he guarded secrets wasn’t for any outdated value like loyalty or honor. He openly declared that he wanted to know every secret in the world. In other words, tell him your secrets, because he would be the man with the heaviest mouth in existence.
You know the story—the king’s ears are donkey ears. People are naturally wired to twist and squirm with the urge to spread a secret once they learn it. Countless souls had poured their hearts out to this self-proclaimed living reed field and found peace of mind in return.
Cheong, clueless about any of this, let out a deep sigh.
“Fairy, why do you sigh so heavily?”
“Now even beggars want proper introductions. Just my luck. Does this body of mine look that easy to push around?”
The old beggar’s eyebrows twitched. Had this brazen child been a boy, he would have slapped him at least once and begun Murim-style etiquette training immediately. But she was a young maiden. For an elder of Murim to beat a girl was far too trivial and damaging to his dignity.
This wretched girl. Treating a beggar like actual trash—a real piece of beggar filth.
Hm? Nukok flinched.
Of course you treat a beggar like a beggar. What else would you do? And who was he, a beggar himself, to call someone else a “beggar-like bitch”? Since when had he started puffing up his neck pretending to be a respected elder? Son of a beggar. The thought touched upon the very principle of the immortal Li Tieguai, who once used the earth as his bed and the sky as his blanket, roaming the world as though it were his personal couch.
Suddenly, internal energy stirred within Nukok’s core. It was an utterly sloppy, swaying, staggering flow of true qi. Yet within that mess lay a generosity vast enough to embrace the heavens and earth.
Nukok dimly realized he had stepped into the late stage of the Transcendent realm. He had taken one foot into that world.
Nukok burst into roaring laughter.
Cheong, who hadn’t even noticed her own enlightenment, had no idea she had just handed him a bellyful of it. She simply stared at him with a straight face.
What was this? Bipolar disorder? Well, if you’d spent your whole life as a beggar, it made sense.
After laughing heartily by himself for a long while, Nukok’s voice finally softened with kindness.
“Yes, this old man was presumptuous. To think everyone would recognize me the moment I gave my name—just the arrogance of old age. My face burns with shame.”
“Why? Are you some famous person?”
“In a manner of speaking. Around these parts, there used to be no one who didn’t know my name.”
“What’s there to brag about being a famous beggar?”
Cheong’s reply was sharp. Human warmth only flows when one is happy, and Cheong’s current mood was nowhere near generous. Yet Nukok simply maintained a pleasant expression.
“True. Quite true. What is there to boast about, a beggar being famous? Even a passing beggar would laugh at me.”
If hitting doesn’t hurt, it isn’t hitting. If scratching doesn’t itch, there’s no point. Cheong’s momentum fizzled out.
“Still, Fairy. The Taepyeong Sword Gate isn’t all that bad. Among the so-called righteous orthodox sects, they’re one of the better ones.”
“Well. It did seem that way.”
If even their second-class bottom-feeders had that level of karma, then yes. Cheong readily agreed.
“Even so, did you really need to beat them so thoroughly and take their swords before driving them off?”
“I went easy on them precisely because they seemed like the orthodox type. If they’d been from the evil path or any other rotten bastards, not a single one would have walked out alive.”
It would’ve been better if they were. Cheong clicked her tongue.
“Oh ho. You would have killed every last one if they were from the evil path? What a terrifying fairy you are.”
Despite his words, Nukok’s expression grew even gentler.
“Still, was it truly necessary to get involved?”
“I was already in a bad mood. I didn’t want to look at their faces.”
“Didn’t want to look at their faces?”
Cheong sighed deeply. Still, talking to someone was better than drinking alone in miserable self-pity. Yeah. She’d done a good deed today. The old beggar should consider himself lucky.
“If you’re taking protection money, you should obviously stop other groups from taking their own cut. The owner here is an easy target, and those other groups—”
“The Johobang.”
“Anyway, since they’re not easy targets, what’s the difference between that and picking on the weak? If you’re going to call yourselves a sect and swarm in like that, either fight like men or give up the protection money if you don’t have the confidence.”
“That may be so, but Fairy doesn’t seem to understand how Murim sects actually operate.”
Nukok explained. If they fought, the sect wouldn’t collapse overnight—it would bleed for a long time. Moreover, like most small and medium sects, they had larger powers backing them from above. A mistake could easily escalate into a full-scale war. And if they gave up the protection money as Cheong suggested, wouldn’t they simply sit idle while their businesses were snatched away one by one?
Cheong stared at Nukok blankly.
What was this old man doing, putting up a shield for them? Did he get free meals from that side or something? She was the one saying she’d beat them because they looked disgusting—why was he interfering?
“Ugh. If that’s how it is, why bother distinguishing between the righteous path, evil path, black path, or white path? A bunch of sword-wielding bastards banding together just to prey on those without swords. Taepyeong Sword Gate? They should just rename themselves Taepyeong Business Group.”
“Pfft! Kuhuhu…!”
The old beggar suddenly exploded with laughter. Whatever struck him as so funny, he clutched his stomach, pressed his forehead to the ground, and kept howling until he was gasping for breath.
Cheong’s expression gradually turned icy.
This was just a crazy beggar. As expected, beggar bastards were hopeless. Cheong, who once had a terrible relationship with beggars, had every right to despise them.
She tuned him out completely. She lifted the liquor jar, filled her cup, emptied it, and repeated the process several times.
Only then did the old beggar straighten his back, wipe the corners of his eyes, and ask.
“May this old man inquire about your master’s name?”
Why was he asking for her master’s name? Cheong was about to snap that it was none of his business when their eyes met and she flinched. There it was—that warm, affectionate look typical of old men. The same way her master looked at her. Even though she had done nothing but snap and argue the entire time!
With her heart softened, Cheong answered obediently.
“It’s Seomun Surin.”
“Ah! Senior Seomun!”
Nukok reacted as if he knew her. Cheong double-checked.
“You know my master?”
“I’ve met her several times before. About twenty years ago in Yeling, she even fought alongside this old man. Tell me, does she still throw her fist first the moment something displeases her?”
Cheong understood instantly. Ah! He knew about the Nuclear Noogie! That thing. Re-al-ly. Aaargh.
“So you were a disciple of the Goddess Sect.”
“Not exactly. She said I was an outer disciple.”
“Oh, an outer disciple. That is quite rare…”
If she were a cherished disciple, there would be no reason to place her outside the sect. When a master wishes to pass on everything they have, it naturally includes the essence of a thousand years of Chinese thought—connections. And within those connections were the sect’s backing, internal positions, status, and so on.
Still, the Goddess Sect did ring a bell. Wasn’t it a mysterious sect where disciples were almost never allowed to leave? What reason would there be to deliberately grant her freedom by making her an outer disciple?
“Fairy, your realm has already surpassed Peak.”
“Surpassed? It’s the late stage, you know? This body is a proper expert.”
Nukok let out a gasp of admiration.
“By any chance, how old are you this year?”
“I don’t know exactly. Master said around twenty.”
“Senior has embraced the offspring of a great Peng!”
Nukok’s admiration grew even stronger. Late-stage Peak at such a tender age—she was clearly the leading candidate to become the next generation’s greatest under heaven.
“……!”
A lightning bolt struck inside Nukok’s head.
In the past, the leaders of the righteous Murim had been the Nine Great Schools. But people nowadays simply called them the Nine Schools. One had been completely removed. The Beggars’ Sect—eliminated. All thanks to Senior Mucheon-daeje. His hatred for the Beggars’ Sect was legendary, after all.
The recent enlightenment had helped him understand that hatred, but…
Sons of bitches who aren’t even proper beggars. It still stung.
Nukok recalled the attitude and gaze Cheong had shown him at first. It had been pure, unfiltered beggar hatred.
I’m in trouble. If I’m not careful, this could…!
He needed to make a good impression. Even if she wasn’t the greatest under heaven yet, she was all but confirmed as the next greatest among female martial artists! The weight those words carried for a female warrior was enough to truly change someone’s life.
“Um, Fairy. Do you perhaps have some grudge against beggars? We’re not all bad people, you know.”
“Aigoo, don’t even get me started. They’re all just rotten bastards.”
Cheong prepared to unload. The bare minimum needed for human survival, the ugly checks placed by the established powers trying to steal even that, their vicious acts, the days spent in a fierce back-and-forth frontline with bases—
But just as she was about to begin, the Taepyeong Sword Gate appeared again.
Led by the rugged-faced Nam Gang-jeong, roughly twenty martial artists poured into the establishment. Just as Cheong had put it—they had brought their mom.
Nam Gang-jeong pointed directly at her.
“There! It’s that woman!”
His choice of words—avoiding harsher terms like “bitch”—wasn’t bad. There was merit in only beating them without drawing blood. Cheong wore a giggling smile. Just when the itch was starting to return, round two had begun.
Cheong slammed her hand down on the table with a loud smack. She was about to rise heavily when the middle-aged man from the Taepyeong Sword Gate spoke first.
After all, the Seven-Bag Elder, the Law Enforcement Elder of the Beggars’ Sect, was sitting right there.
The middle-aged man offered a polite greeting.
“Is this not Elder Subigu?”
“Oh ho. So it’s you, Tranquil Sword An Gyeong.”
“Had I known you were in An Gyeong, I would have properly invited you through the gates. My lack of information has caused an offense.”
“It’s fine. What kind of treatment would a beggar bastard expect? Still, I appreciate the words.”
The atmosphere was surprisingly harmonious.
Huh. This was going the wrong way. Cheong frowned.
“Elder. By any chance… are you acquainted with this young lady?”
“Ahem. Well, you see…”
Nukok winked at Cheong. It was a sign that he would handle things. In truth, he carried enough authority to do exactly that.
What the hell? The old beggar was sprinkling ashes on perfectly good rice. She shouldn’t have associated with him in the first place. It was over. Why did these beggar bastards always stand in her way?
It had the opposite effect, though.
“After hearing the situation, while I wouldn’t say it was entirely your fault, there were certainly areas where you lacked consideration…”
Cheong despaired and simply filled her cup. She wasn’t thinking much about it, but casually lifting a liquor jar the size of a child’s head with one hand and pouring without spilling a single drop was a feat in itself—an achievement only a high-level expert could display.
Cheong decided they could play among themselves and completely tuned them out, focusing only on her drink. Then, at the sound of approaching footsteps, she looked up to see a neat-looking young man shouting with excitement.
“Young lady! Let’s have a spar!”
Cheong looked at the young man with half-lidded eyes.
What the hell was this guy? Again.