What the Hell Is Going On? (2)
'Looks like I really have gone mad.'
Guchil studied Chung Myung with a grave expression.
'Did he get hit so hard he lost his mind?'
He had been beaten pretty badly, that was true.
Wangcho was usually a little too enthusiastic when it came to pounding people, but today he had really gone all out. He wouldn’t have beaten even a dog that hard on the hottest day of summer.
Normally, the others would have tried to stop Wangcho, but the sheer ferocity of it had pinned them in place. So a person should have been groaning and clutching himself by now, if nothing else…
"So you're saying I'm a beggar?"
'His body’s fine, so did the blow scramble his brain instead?'
A beggar was asking whether he was a beggar.
Was there ever a beggar like this?
This guy was definitely acting weird today. No—more than weird. He was seriously off.
He had always had a lazy streak, so Guchil had figured somebody would eventually beat him into shape one day. Today had simply been unlucky enough for him to get caught, but his habit of slacking off hadn’t been any different from usual. Even if it hadn’t been today, he would have gotten a proper thrashing sooner or later.
That was the rule in a beggar’s nest: if you couldn’t beg for your own food with your own hands, you starved or got beaten to death.
After getting hit, dog or man, you usually came to your senses for a while. That was normal.
But the thing in front of Guchil’s eyes right now was anything but normal.
"So I really live here as a beggar? That can’t be right."
"…Are you blind?"
"Huh?"
"Just look at what you’re wearing and it really doesn’t seem that hard to figure out your own identity."
Chung Myung lowered his head. His eyes landed on a patched-up bundle of rags stitched together from every kind of scrap cloth. Since it was hanging on a body, you could call it clothes; if it had been lying on the ground, you wouldn’t even know it was clothing.
A normal person would have nodded and walked away by then, but Chung Myung didn’t know when to give up.
"You don’t even have a name?"
Guchil let out a low sigh.
"Where would a beggar get a proper name? We just make one up and call each other by it. You’re Grass-Three."
"…That sounds exactly like a beggar’s name."
See? He really wasn’t right in the head.
"Of all things, a beggar. What a damn beggar life this is."
"…."
"About fifteen or sixteen?"
"How would a beggar know his age?"
"Fair enough."
There was more than one strange thing about him.
His tone, his behavior—everything had changed. It was too much to accept as the result of being struck on the head. And the way he was asking questions now, as if he knew nothing at all…
"Then what year is it?"
"…I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but a beggar counting the date is a new one. Are you asking me to become a beggar who counts the years?"
"That’s really damn beggar-like."
Guchil lifted a hand and rubbed his brow. A beggar’s life was always tired and hungry, but at this moment it felt twice as exhausting as usual.
"Then let me ask you one thing."
"…You’ve been asking questions this whole time already."
"You’re not the Heavenly Demon, are you?"
Guchil’s face twisted.
"You were going on about the Heavenly Demon earlier too, so why are you suddenly so obsessed with him?"
"Answer me first."
"I know him. Who doesn’t know the Heavenly Demon? He’s that great demon who died a hundred years ago."
"What?"
"A great demon…"
At that moment, Grass-Three lunged at Guchil and grabbed him hard by the collar.
"The Heavenly Demon died a hundred years ago? A hundred? You said a hundred years? A hundreeed years?"
"…."
He really had gone insane, it seemed.
"That’s what I said."
"And that would be the truth, with not a shred of lie in it."
"What would I even gain by lying to you, you broke beggar?"
Chung Myung glared at him, then opened his mouth as if to snap back—but after a moment, his expression shifted into stunned disbelief and he let go of Guchil’s collar. Then he suddenly started scratching his head furiously.
'He’s definitely crazy.'
That was the only thing Guchil could think after looking at his face. He seemed dazed, and also broken. Guchil had never realized a human face could express so many shades of “What the hell?” all at once.
"A hundred years?"
"Want me to say it again?"
"…This is insane."
Chung Myung lifted his hollow face and stared at the ceiling.
He had hoped that maybe seeing a blue sky would make him feel a little better, but all he could see was the black roof of a shabby hut. It was as gloomy as his current state of mind.
"You’re saying a hundred years have passed?"
Now Guchil, growing irritated, barked back at him.
"Why do you keep repeating what I just said? I told you, a hundred years have passed! It was the Great Mountain Blood Affair—when the Central Plains martial alliance fought the Heavenly Demon at the peak of the Hundred Thousand Great Mountains and finally cut off his head, that thing… Right! That was about a hundred years ago!"
"…I get it."
That was exactly why he was going mad.
Chung Myung stared at Guchil with a blank face.
'If only he were just some beggar who didn’t know anything.'
The guy who had just cheerfully beaten Chung Myung half to death was a full-fledged member of the Beggar Sect. Which meant the fellow in front of him was also connected to the Beggar Sect in some way.
Wasn’t there something about the ten-thousand-beggar network?
Still, the Beggar Sect wasn’t some all-powerful faction loaded with wealth. It couldn’t possibly feed and house all its hundred thousand disciples. Even if it was known as a beggar sect with surprisingly strong foundations, its funds had limits.
Most of those hundred thousand beggars were just like Guchil, standing right here in front of him. The Beggar Sect gave these beggars the name of unbound beggars and treated them as disciples well enough.
That meant even the beggars rolling around the marketplace were more informed about the martial world than most commoners.
So what he said had to carry some credibility. If he even knew that the allied martial forces from each sect had climbed the Great Mountain back then, there was nothing more to check.
"Hah. Crazy. A hundred years…"
That was five complete cycles of a mountain and a river changing with the seasons.
At this point, he had to admit it. He had been reborn into someone else’s body.
But…
'Couldn’t it have been right after I died? Why did it have to be a hundred years later?'
If a hundred years had passed, then everyone who knew him would be dead. Of course, even if a hundred years hadn’t passed, most of the people he’d known would have died at the Great Mountain anyway, but still—this was different, wasn’t it?
Even if Chung Myung was a martial artist, that didn’t mean all the people he’d known were martial artists too. Some had been merchants, some ordinary commoners. But after a hundred years, there was no chance they were still alive.
It felt as if he had been dropped alone into the world.
'No matter how badly things go wrong, how do they get this wrong? At this rate, Mount Hua…'
"Huh? Wait. Mount Hua!"
Chung Myung suddenly sprang to his feet and screamed. Guchil shut his eyes in resignation.
He wasn’t even surprised anymore.
"Mount Hua! What happened to Mount Hua?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I said, what happened to Mount Hua?"
"Mount Hua?"
"Yeah!"
"What’s Mount Hua?"
"…Huh?"
Chung Myung’s eyes flew wide open.
He didn’t know Mount Hua? A Beggar Sect beggar?
"Don’t mess around. I’m asking what’s going on with Mount Hua Sect right now."
"Mount Hua Sect?"
Guchil tilted his head.
He didn’t know?
He really didn’t know?
Mount Hua Sect?
"Y-you don’t know Mount Hua Sect, one of the Nine Sects and One Gang? Hey, you…"
"Nine Sects and One Gang? What nonsense are you spouting? There isn’t any Mount Hua Sect in the Nine Sects and One Gang."
"…There isn’t?"
"Shaolin. Wudang. Zhongnan. Canglang. Kongtong, Qingcheng, Emei, Haenam, Kunlun. Beggar Sect. Those are the ten major factions."
"H-Haenam? Those island bumpkins got into the Nine Sects and One Gang? N-no, wait, that’s not the point. Mount Hua got cut from the Nine?"
Guchil let out a long, low sigh.
'Do I need to call a doctor?'
He really was going to have to do something. The guy was rotten in the head—thoroughly rotten.
"Mount Hua got cut from the Nine Sects and One Gang? Fine, let’s say that could happen! But you don’t know Mount Hua Sect? Even a decaying rich man lasts three years, they say! And a Beggar Sect brat doesn’t know Mount Hua Sect?"
For someone with the nerve to call a person standing right in front of him a beggar brat, he didn’t seem like he’d die of hunger anywhere. He might get beaten to death, though.
Chung Myung now lunged at him outright and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him hard.
"Does that make any sense? Does this make any damn sense?"
Guchil’s head flopped around helplessly.
"You really don’t know, Mount Hua? You don’t know Mount Hua Sect? Mount Hua?"
"…Mount Hua."
"Yes! Mount Hua!"
Guchil cocked his head.
"Come to think of it, I think I heard there used to be a faction like that in Shaanxi."
Chung Myung’s eyes bulged.
"Yes! Shaanxi, right! Mount Hua Sect of Shaanxi!"
"As far as I know, they went under."
"…What?"
His breath caught in his throat.
"I’m not sure if there was a Mount Hua Sect among the Nine Sects and One Gang, but I think I did hear that some famous faction called something like Mount Hua got completely ruined in the war between the righteous and demonic factions. I don’t know the details. If you want to know more, ask someone higher up…"
What the hell was this nonsense? Mount Hua had gone under?
Mount Hua?
Mount Hua had collapsed?
"What kind of nonsense is this beggar spewing?"
Guchil looked up at the ceiling with moist eyes.
No matter how much he told him, all he got back was insults. This was why you never took in a black-haired beast.
"No! I can’t believe this!"
Chung Myung shoved Guchil away and shot to his feet.
"I need to see it for myself!"
As Chung Myung bolted outside, Guchil shouted after him.
"Hey! If you don’t beg enough by evening, Wangcho said he’d beat you to death! Stop wasting time and get to work!"
But Chung Myung didn’t listen at all and ran off.
"…What the hell is wrong with that bastard today?"
Unable to understand Chung Myung’s sudden transformation, Guchil tilted his head.
* * *
"…Hah."
Was this the face of a merchant who had lost everything he owned?
Sitting slumped in a corner of the market street, Chung Myung wore a face of utter emptiness.
At first, he had thought there was no point in expecting an unbound beggar to know anything useful.
But thinking it over, even the Mount Hua Sect’s first- and second-generation disciples had been wiped out in that battle now called the Great Mountain Blood Affair, so the sect’s influence could have declined.
And in the middle of all that, it might have even been pushed out of the Nine Sects and One Gang.
But no matter how many times he thought about it, how could Mount Hua, which had once towered over the martial world, become a sect no beggar had even heard of in just a hundred years?
A sect no beggar had even heard of—what a disgusting way to put it…
Still, he thought it might only be this one beggar who didn’t know. Maybe others would know Mount Hua.
But whoever he grabbed and asked, the answer was the same.
- Mount Hua? Do you mean the mountain in Shaanxi?
- Mount Hua Sect? There’s a sect at Mount Hua?
- I’ve never heard of such a faction.
- Hey, you filthy beggar, why are you grabbing people’s sleeves? Want to die?
Ah. Except for that last one.
No one knew.
No one knew at all.
"Does that even make sense?"
What kind of sect was Mount Hua?
There were countless sword sects in the world, but there had never been a sword sect more famous than Mount Hua. It was a little hard to insist it was the most famous sword sect under heaven, but no one could dispute that it was one of the three most renowned sects in the world, along with Wudang and the Namgung Clan.
And yet they didn’t know it?
"Hah…"
That was the most optimistic response he’d gotten.
- Mount Hua Sect? I think I’ve heard of it. Wasn’t it some famous sword sect back in the day? I heard it got completely ruined by the Heavenly Demon. Does it still even exist?
Completely ruined? That Mount Hua?
"What kind of ghost nonsense is this?"
It would be more believable to say the imperial palace had caught fire and the emperor had fled in his undergarments.
Mount Hua had fallen? Mount Hua?
His senior brother’s final image floated up in his mind.
The sect leader senior brother, who had always laughed with a gentle face, had been lying there with a grotesque expression that was impossible to describe.
'At least it’s fortunate that I came back to life.'
If the sect leader senior brother had somehow lived and heard this utterly absurd news, he would have spat blood and died on the spot again.
"No, no!"
Chung Myung shot to his feet.
"I have to see it with my own eyes!"
Even if its influence had declined, Mount Hua had endured for centuries. There was no way he could believe this until he saw it with his own eyes.
"I’m going to Mount Hua!"
To Mount Hua! To confirm it for himself!
Chung Myung’s eyes began to burn.
It was the moment a massive incident, one that would stir up the otherwise calm martial world like a whirlwind over a still lake, began to take shape.