What Always Happens at an Inn
“I heard someone was getting beaten like a dog out on the training grounds… so that was you, Boss.”
The way he’d been thrashing me looked so vicious, as if he’d run into a lifelong enemy, that the escorts who’d come to train had turned right around and left.
Sure, this kind of thing was a direct hit for the Heavenly Killing Star, but was this crude, brainless training method really the right call?
In the wuxia novels I’d read, master and disciple pulled each other along, built a deep bond, and polished their martial arts together with care.
We just hurled curses, shouted, and screamed while charging at each other like we meant to kill.
“Boss, should we put off the promise with the kids till next time?”
I must have looked pretty rough on the outside.
Ilhong asked while gently touching my swollen, bruised cheek.
“Nah, let’s just go. How disappointed would they be if we canceled?”
It wasn’t like this era had much in the way of entertainment. Food was a huge part of life’s pleasures.
If it fizzled out, they’d be as crushed as kids whose dad promised fried chicken and then showed up empty-handed because he forgot.
Not that I’d ever felt that particular sting myself.
Thock. Thock.
My whole body ached, but I used the long dog-beating staff as a cane and kept walking.
“Boss, what’s with that staff?”
Hwang Geolgae had kicked it over to me. At a glance it looked plain, but it was surprisingly sturdy, and the length and balance were perfect for swinging.
“Been learning another martial art lately. Weird staff technique where every form and mnemonic has ‘dog’ in it.”
Pressing the Dog’s Shoulder-Back, Flicking the Dog Toward Heaven, Staff Poking the Scabby Dog, and so on.
Smacking a dog and launching it skyward, smacking its rear, a method for not panicking even when surrounded—when you unpacked the mnemonics, they weren’t even funny.
“A staff technique with ‘dog’ in every form…? Boss, are you training in the Dog Beating Staff Technique that only the Dragon Head’s successor is supposed to learn?”
Ilhong’s eyes went wide with disbelief.
“…What? This is the successor-only stuff?”
None of the wuxia novels I’d read had said that. It had just been mentioned in passing that such a technique existed.
“Yes. It’s the Beggar Sect’s most profound ultimate art and a true secret transmission. There’s no manual—only the Dragon Head can bestow it through the oral mnemonics.”
Ilhong, who somehow knew everything, explained. I rubbed my chin, puzzled.
“This dog-beating stick-whacking…?”
“That’s exactly what it is!”
No wonder he’d put on every last bit of bluster before teaching it.
So there was a secret history behind it.
That explained why the staff strikes got fiercer every time I dismissed it as a dog-beating technique.
“It’s strange, isn’t it? Even though you two bicker and snarl at each other all the time, deep down he must have recognized what you’ve done.”
Was that really it? Had he officially accepted me—the Heavenly Killing Star—as his disciple? Until now he’d treated me like an illegitimate son: disciple on paper for outsiders, but privately like a bomb that could go off any second.
“I don’t know. Still can’t read that old man.”
Still, better not to overthink a good thing. He was teaching me martial arts, so I decided not to dig deeper.
You can know the depths of ten fathoms of water, but never one fathom of a man’s heart. How was I supposed to know what he was thinking?
The only things I could see inside people were the killing intent they carried and the karmic slaughter they’d piled up.
“Boss Dan Mujin!”
A welcome voice tickled my ear.
From far off, a big-framed youth came running with a hearty laugh.
“Hey, what ‘Boss’? The gang dissolved ages ago.”
“Heh heh. If you’re strong and make good money, you’re still the Boss!”
A clean-shaven bald head. Ohchil had clearly been eating well and working hard—his build was even sturdier than before.
“And that guy Ilhong still calls you Boss too. As the former vice-chief of the gang, I can’t back down!”
Ilhong had given up correcting him. Once a Boss, always a Boss—he clung to it till the end.
“Why is Big Brother Ohchil the vice-chief? Anyone could see I was the one always giving advice at your side.”
Ilhong glared from beside us, looking utterly incredulous.
“Hmph. Don’t make me laugh. You were more like a money pouch. The right-hand man of a boss needs strength.”
“No, he needs knowledge.”
“And anyone who ran away once doesn’t even qualify for vice-chief.”
“…Ahem.”
Even after so long apart, Ilhong and Ohchil bickered exactly like always.
Come to think of it, Ilhong did have a history of bolting.
After I’d taken a hole in the gut saving him, he’d settled firmly at my side for good.
“Hey, it’s been weird since the old days, but now it’s even weirder. You really a guy? Why do you keep getting prettier?”
Training had started putting some lean muscle on him, but his arms and legs were still slender.
Half a year had passed, plus a long-distance escort run, and even through the human-skin mask a ladylike air was starting to show.
At this rate, was he going to end up charming other men without meaning to while still pretending to be a guy?
“Ah, of course I am.”
But when this kid lied, he unconsciously copied my speech patterns.
Must be from growing up watching and learning near me.
In that case, I should tell him he’d grown up just fine.
“But Boss, who beat you up to leave your face looking like that?”
Ohchil took one look at my panda-like blotchy face and had to comment.
“There was this one beggar.”
“Some beggar bastard dared…! Boss, who is it? I’ll back you up. Let’s go get revenge!”
As expected of my former underling. So reliable.
“There’s this Old Man Hwang. Want to come thrash him with me?”
“…Come to think of it, Boss, you’re so tough this much is probably fine.”
He’d clearly heard the rumors about me constantly drawing sword qi and my exploits on the last escort run. Ohchil scrambled to make excuses with a flustered face.
I snorted a laugh and asked where the rest of the kids were.
Ohchil pointed toward the manor gate, where a certain group was already buzzing with excitement.
“Boss! It’s been so long!”
“You’re looking sharp! Heard you’ve learned martial arts too!”
“Thanks to you we don’t even have to beg anymore! Thank you!”
The boys came toward me practically dancing on their shoulders.
Every last one of them was grinning ear to ear.
“You little punks.”
Familiar faces. The ones I’d shared a tent in a stinking back alley and called it home. The ones who’d split mystery-ingredient cabbage stew with me.
And the ones who’d quietly cleaned out a few foul-tempered rich folks with me.
It hadn’t been that long, and our first meeting had been the worst. But they were the first friends I’d made after coming to this murim world.
“Been a while. You guys been well?”
“Hey, what do you want to eat? Tell me everything.”
At the manor gate, a young man was gathering kids his own age with a voice full of confidence.
“Noodles!”
“Meat dumplings!”
“Fried rice!”
He clicked his tongue as if that weren’t nearly enough, then held a gleaming gold coin high into the sky.
“Ah, what the hell—my treat! Order everything you want!”
“Woooah!”
“It’s gold, gold!”
“Boss is the best!”
The kids’ excitement blazed like fire.
The young man led them out as if charging into battle.
“Follow me!”
“Ooooh!”
And just like that, Dan Mujin and his gang vanished in a noisy swarm.
From a nearby pavilion, Hwang Geolgae watched the whole scene in silence with his peculiar eyesight, then let out a helpless little laugh.
“That brat, really…”
An unreadable one.
He always seemed to live like a scrappy street fighter, yet every so often he did something like this.
Come to think of it, the only time the kid acted like a complete bastard was when the other person was a complete bastard first.
Wait. That would mean admitting he himself was a complete bastard.
“Ahem-hem.”
Anyway, one thing was certain: in his later years, he’d picked up a truly entertaining disciple.
He still hadn’t fully acknowledged the boy.
Watching him throw his body on the line for others, again and again, had made him think the kid wasn’t completely hopeless.
But a sliver of unease still wouldn’t leave him.
Still, even if not as the official successor, keeping him as a candidate should be fine.
If it was that boy, he might even break free of the Heavenly Killing Star’s shackles.
No—beyond merely escaping them, he might, like a high monk achieving liberation and severing the cycle of reincarnation, cut the curse of the star’s descent short in his own generation.
So that the Heavenly Killing Star would never appear again.
How great a blessing would that be for the murim?
It could mean saving tens or hundreds of thousands who would otherwise die meaninglessly every time the era of the star returned.
Perhaps even this was part of that Mysterious Daoist’s design. Fate had drawn the boy to him, after all.
“Steward Jin, could you deliver a letter for me?”
Hwang Geolgae stroked his long beard as he spoke.
“A letter, sir? To where, Old Master Hwang?”
“Send it to Kaifeng.”
Even for an irresponsible sect leader, a heads-up was in order.
Hwang Geolgae silently fingered the knot of his mnemonic cord.
Light footsteps headed for the inn.
“Handsome young hero over there! Please spare this beggar a coin!”
My easy, unhurried stride drew a few little Beijing beggar kids asking for alms.
“Brat, how’d you even know I was handsome?”
Begging was hard around here, so Beijing beggars were often half-starved.
Since I was already on my way to do a good deed with the kids, and my purse was flush, I handed out a few coins.
“Thank you, young hero!”
Not long ago I’d been a beggar myself. If someone had told me to be generous back then, the first words out of my mouth would’ve been “Are you crazy?”
I guess kindness really does come from having room to spare. In that sense, today I was Saint Dan Mujin himself.
“Khh, you’ll be blessed for this!”
“I won’t forget this kindness!”
Even this counted as good deeds—I felt a strange tickle near my dantian.
I’d given away money I valued with no return expected. By my standards, that was solid good karma.
And the scarlet energy, thoroughly displeased by my ongoing good-deed accumulation, pushed back.
When I completely ignored it even after it drew something on the ground, it started writing characters in the air with its signature red aura.
Watching it write only that in the air felt like looking at some magic Thousand Character Classic.
That was the extent of my reaction. Beyond that I stuck to pure ignoring. After all, writing characters like that was about all it could do.
“What are you gonna do about it? What can you even do?”
Trading childish mental sniping with the Heavenly Killing Star, I headed for the inn entrance with the kids.
We poured inside and looked around. It was lunchtime, and the place was bustling.
The rich, savory smell of roasting meat already had the kids’ eyes spinning and drool running.
Then a waiter came over to greet our large party.
“What’s this, some beaten-up beggar?”
Maybe it was because Hwang Geolgae had just worked me over, but I clearly didn’t look like a paying customer.
“Not a beggar—a wanderer. Look.”
I had to keep face in front of the kids, so I wordlessly held out the wanderer’s badge issued by the Wanderers’ Association.
“Oh my, a wanderer… Hmm? Lowest regular grade. Then it doesn’t change much.”
This son of a—
First time in ages I came to spend real money, and I couldn’t even get a little respect.
So this time I flipped open my money pouch so the gold coins flashed.
“Ohhhh, my lord! I’ll show you to the very best seats!”
Only then did the waiter of the Five Lakes Inn welcome us with full enthusiasm.
There was a line I’d always wanted to say the moment I walked into an inn.
“Waiter! From here to here—bring it all!”
With those words, a feast that could break the table legs was laid out.
From thinly sliced pork eaten with the special garlic paste sauce, to shredded meat steeped in rich Beijing sauce,
dumplings stuffed with every kind of filling, and the tender, quivering Dongpo pork I’d never gotten to eat because of that kidnapping—everything filled our eyes and noses in dazzling glory.
“Ahh, finally I get to eat this.”
Just as I reached for a piece of the soft, fragrant, long-braised Dongpo pork—
CRAAASH—!
Something shattered, and a person came plummeting down from the third floor of the inn.