You've Got a Gift

Eun Hwaran's approval for the business came through.

It was her sworn little brother's request, and last time she had pocketed a tidy commission off those bizarre beast-people paintings, so the decision did not take long.

"It was surprising enough when I introduced them before, but this time they'll draw even more astonished stares. Ugh."

Of course there was a touch of self-deprecating fretting over her own reputation involved.

Still, the commission was flowing in a thoroughly successful direction.

When I returned to the office and delivered the news of the approval, Painter Neung Jinsam let out a whoop of delight.

"That network of yours... I knew it was impressive, but it really is something else."

"My network?"

"Yes. You're on a big-sister, little-brother basis with Guildmaster Eun Hwaran, and you can meet the famous Ju Wolay whenever you please, can't you?"

He stared at me as if wondering what kind of life a man had to lead to acquire connections like that. If I mentioned I was also acquainted with that foul-tempered old classmate of mine and had even once been received by a princess, he would probably faint dead away.

"I've just lived a rather eventful life..."

Far too many ups and downs, if you asked me. Still, ending up on friendly terms with people like that had to count as a net gain.

"Anyway, thank you. Because of you... I can pick up a brush again."

Only a short while ago he had been crawling along the bottom of his life; now his chest was full to bursting with things he wanted to paint. He had overcome his heart demon and completely recovered an artist's inspiration.

"...A request like this is something those sword-dancing wanderers could never have pulled off. I'm only glad I entrusted it to you."

At that line, former wanderer Jo Harang puffed out her cheeks in indignation, but I let it slide.

Then, face shining with emotion, Neung Jinsam pressed the advance payment into my hand.

"Oh my, you didn't have to."

And just like that the money vanished into my robes as if it had never existed. Truth be told, someone else had asked me to raise this painter's reputation in the first place. Still, there was no reason to refuse money freely offered—I had done real work for it.

"Now I understand why people seek out troubleshooters. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You've given me hope."

"Not at all. If any more problems crop up, please drop by our agency anytime."

"Of course, of course! Naturally!"

He nodded vigorously and promised he would.

"And put in a good word for us, would you? That we do solid work."

"Leave that to me even more! I'll spread the word all over Beijing that the entire concept of these beast-people paintings came from you!"

He thumped his chest and told me to trust him completely.

"...Wait a second. On second thought, please don't spread that rumor."

"Why not? Trust me—I'll make sure history records you as the founder of beast-people paintings."

I shuddered and stopped him cold.

"Come to think of it, you're the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one who actually painted them. It wouldn't feel right for me to take all the credit. Leave my name out of it."

I was a little afraid of how future generations would judge an era in which pictures like these had become popular.

"Good heavens... Not only are you capable, you're this humble as well..."

Neung Jinsam had never imagined I would hand him all the glory; his eyes grew moist with fresh emotion.

"Sniff—I'm truly moved. Very well... I'll honor your wishes and promote them under my name alone."

"Yes, please do."

If it had been money, maybe. But what use did I have for the "honor" of founding something like this?

I exchanged farewells with Neung Jinsam, who looked ready to take flight with newfound inspiration and dubious fame, and closed the books on yet another commission.

He had promised to work hard and make his name ring out again, so now all that remained was to meet the Gamun Society leader and collect the fee.

"Nothing's ever easy, boss."

"Tell me about it."

That was simply the way of the world.

A few weeks later, under a round moon at night.

"Take this, you brat."

I had been summoned to the Eunseong Merchant Group, only for Hwang Geolgae to toss something long and slender at me with a completely indifferent face.

"...What is this?"

"A new dog-beating staff."

The grip felt rough, as if it had just been made. Crude, yet perfectly shaped for thrashing something. The Hell Demon-Slaying Staff that had been snapped in half had returned from hell and found its way back into my hands.

"From today your name is the Hell Blood-Slaying Staff."

Something about the Blood Cult's left-blood method, was it? I'll kill the one who killed you. That was the meaning I packed into the name.

"Good grief... I'm going crazy. Why do you always give things names like that?"

"I know, right? Boss's naming sense is impossible to understand."

Hwang Geolgae and Ilhong watched from the side and both shook their heads in exasperation.

"What? It's cool."

"Not even a little, boss."

Ilhong shook her head as if she could not possibly agree. And here I had believed she, at least, was always on my side.

"But you said you left the Beggar Sect and couldn't get another one. Did you go all the way to Kaifeng for my sake?"

I asked while swinging the staff vigorously, trying to reacquaint myself with the long-forgotten feel of the Dog Beating Staff Technique. If it was true, I might actually be touched.

"No? I just carved it from a nearby tree."

He almost said. When I followed his pointing finger I saw a slender tree planted in the manor grounds standing neatly halved. Apparently he had sliced it clean with sword energy, roughly shaped the weapon, then pounded it round and dense with qi.

"You really don't plan on spending a single coin on me, do you?"

I had assumed that even if it wasn't an authentic Beggar Sect dog-beating staff from Kaifeng, he had at least bought a proper staff from a weapons shop that catered to martial artists. Instead he had simply knocked one together from a nearby tree.

"Heh heh, where would a beggar get money? Trees are everywhere—just carve one and use it."

The more I looked at him, the more he reminded me of my old orphanage director. That man had also hated spending money and would bang things together out of whatever was lying around.

"Still, it's practically the symbol of the Beggar Sect. Cutting down a random tree to make one..."

When I asked if that wasn't a bit too shabby, Hwang Geolgae only snickered.

"Heh heh. If anyone asks, just say it's a staff carved for you by the Daoist known as Divine Wind."

So he was still clinging to that ridiculous mysterious-Daoist concept. Ever since I got tangled up with this old man, the road ahead had looked nothing but rough. Disciples of famous orthodox sects usually received every kind of support from their masters; I had started as a day laborer on day one and had to pay for my own food and lodging.

"Anyway, you've got it, so off you go."

He flicked his hand as if his business were finished.

"...You called me all the way here just for this? You could have just given it to Ilhong when she came for training."

"I wanted to see what the hell you were up to, you brat. You never show your face anymore."

It was exactly like a grandfather sulking that his grandsons never visited.

"Troubleshooter work's been busy."

"Still, drop by more often... And for the record, that's not a request. I've finally realized that if I take my eyes off you for one second, something big is going to go wrong..."

In other words, report in promptly because there was no telling what kind of disaster I would cause if left alone. Ever since I had mentioned the Purple Micro Star last time, his eyes had grown even more distrustful.

An old man who had once lived as if free of the world's concerns, drowning ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in alcohol, was now taking an interest in real-world affairs.

"In a way that's pretty impressive, boss."

"I think so too."

Ilhong, never one to stay quiet even during training, always chimed in from the side. I had managed something tens of thousands of Beggar Sect disciples had failed to do: I had dragged him out of the wine jar and back into reality.

Thwack!

"Bragging, are you, brat?"

Hwang Geolgae smacked me on the back of the head with a look of pure disbelief. The blow carried the power of the Starfall Heart Method, and something crimson and distinctly displeased began to coil upward.

"If you ever startle this old man with another stunt..."

It was heartbreaking, really—a master who looked at his disciple with suspicion rather than trust.

"What major incidents have I even caused...? Ahem."

Even as I spoke, countless memories flooded my mind.

"Heh heh, feeling guilty? At least you've still got a conscience."

"You're too kind."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I'll take it as one anyway."

Hwang Geolgae's eyes narrowed further. When I glanced off to the side and smoothly changed the subject, something in him seemed to prickle.

"If there's anything else you haven't told me, spit it out now. Don't wait until you're getting beaten half to death to confess."

A clear-headed Divine Wind Daoist was surprisingly sharp. The moment he said it, Salsung flickered red in front of me, deliberately flaunting her presence as if to mock me. I had kept my mouth shut about her precisely because revealing that would be a genuine disaster.

Speaking of which—what exactly was Salsung's true nature? Hwang Geolgae had clearly said the Heavenly Killing Star had gone dormant, into a kind of hibernation. So what was that bright-red thing dancing around in front of my eyes?

"There's something, isn't there, brat."

"There's nothing."

My gaze kept following Salsung this way and that; Hwang Geolgae muttered as if he had sensed it.

"I don't believe you, brat."

Then why ask the question in the first place? It looked like he had already decided on the answer.

"Ah, forget it. For disciples who rebel against their masters, history has always prescribed the same medicine."

As ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he spoke he slid the Dragon Head Sect Leader's dog-beating staff from his waist. He stroked the blunted end—perfect for thrashing dogs—with obvious pleasure.

"That one's been remade as well, so how about we resume Dog Beating Staff Technique training with this old man for the first time in a while?"

He showed not the slightest hesitation in displaying murderous fighting spirit even toward his own disciple.

"Sure, sounds good. My body was getting itchy anyway."

As if I would be the one to flinch. Getting beaten like a dog yet still talking back to the end—that was the essence of Dan Mujin.

"This kid's temperament is getting as tough as iron sinew."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Heh heh. Since it's come to this, I'll make you spill who holds the Purple Micro Star for real this time."

"Go ahead. See if I so much as open my mouth."

Looked at kindly, Hwang Geolgae's methods had the effect of forging a practitioner's body and mind as hard as diamond. The only question was whether that was actually his intention.

Clack.

Two staffs—shabby on the outside yet solid within—were leveled at each other. A young man and an old man faced off on the training ground, each gripping a nearly identical dog-beating staff.

"Here we go again..."

Ilhong sighed as if long accustomed to the sight and hastily cleared out of the way. Behind her, two staffs rose into the night air, and another moonlit clash unfolded across the training ground.

And the next morning, early.

I was summoned by the guildmaster of the Eunseong Merchant Group and shown into an imposing reception hall. Unlike her relatively modest and tidy private office, the place used for receiving guests had a distinctly luxurious air.

Eun Hwaran greeted me with a faintly weary face.

"It wasn't me."

"...What wasn't you?"

She tilted her head at my sudden declaration. I had assumed she had called me first thing in the morning because of last night's mess.

"The training ground."

"Don't tell me the two of you fought again?"

I scratched my head and nodded.

"Technically it was closer to training than a fight, but..."

"What kind of training in this world is that bloodthirsty? I told you to restrain yourselves."

Last time they had stripped off rank and gone at it, the place had turned into a slaughterhouse.

"The old man came at me like he wanted to die. What was I supposed to do?"

Even if I tried to run, he was faster; there was no escaping. Both Eun Hwaran and I were equally powerless against the Old Master Hwang of this household.

She pressed a hand to her pale forehead and groaned at my complaint.

"Anyway, if it's not about the training ground, why did you call me?"

I flopped casually into the seat of honor reserved for distinguished guests and helped myself to the high-class snacks while asking.

"You remember the favor you asked of me last time? To go promote the paintings at the gathering of Hebei's celebrities and wealthy patrons."

"Yes, of course. Thanks to that, the whole thing wrapped up easily. Lucky break."

"Lucky for you? I was so embarrassed I wanted to crawl into a hole... The way they all stared..."

If it hadn't been her one and only little brother's request, she would have refused the job even for a fat middleman's fee. People who try to awaken and push through something new always draw strange looks from ordinary folk.

"I'm grateful."

"...Anyway. While I was chatting at that gathering, I ended up meeting someone from a famous Hebei clan."

A famous Hebei clan—there were several, including the Hebei Peng Family.

"Yes, and?"

"They seemed to be dealing with some sort of problem and were having trouble finding anyone who could solve it. That was when your name popped into my head."

So once again, bless her heart, she had gone and dragged a job back for our agency.

"Thanks, big sis."

"What for? What good is having a sister if she doesn't do this much? Anyway—come in. This is the capable little brother I was telling you about."

At her words the reception hall door opened and a remarkably tall woman walked in with deliberate steps. Her frame was so gaunt the flesh seemed barely clinging to the bone, and her face was paper-white—the kind of woman who, if you saw her on a dark night, you might swear was floating.

She gave off a faintly ghostly, unsettling impression.

"Big sis, who is this?"

"Have you heard of the Jinju Eon Family? Introduce yourself properly."

The Jinju Eon Family? Those gloomy people who supposedly handled all the funerals of the Murim?

Sensing a new client, I was about to bow my head deeply when she suddenly seized my wrist and said:

"You... don't you see something strange...?"

"..."

A peculiar remark that made both me and Salsung flinch at the same time.

What is with this woman?

I narrowed my eyes and looked up at her.