Chapter 86
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: I Have a Plan Too (2)
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'What if I just say "nothing"?'
Yuk Chil wanted to dodge the question. He was nothing more than a three-knot disciple of the Beggars' Sect. Only someone at the level of sect leader or elder could represent the sect. He was just one among many disciples.
'Won't fly.'
Look around—the plain was drenched in blood. In the blink of an eye, thirty warriors had been reduced to pulp, stripped of any human shape.
'I knew he was strong.'
But this was overkill!
He was far stronger than anticipated. He might have even reached the very cusp of the transcendent realm. Experts like that were few and far between. Even the Beggars' Sect would keep a sharp eye on him.
"How long do I have to stand here holding this staff? It's rude to keep people waiting while you mull it over. If it's nothing major, we can talk later. I'll just kill them all first."
Gasp!
He spoke of human lives with such levity. There was no hint of unease even as he casually declared he'd slaughter them. His serene tone, like someone out on a leisurely picnic, sent chills down the spine.
"That's enough. The Thousand Hands Sect Leader has surely realized his folly by now. If you push further, the rumors won't paint you in a good light!"
"The reason I shouldn't kill them is just that?"
"...Pardon?"
"I thought you had something substantial."
This was about saving lives. For a warrior, it could mean swallowing humiliation. That alone was more than enough justification.
If he dismissed even that as "just," what was I supposed to say?
"The Zhuge Family stands behind us!"
"And what does that change? This is starting to piss me off. You threatening me?"
"...No! Please, show mercy!"
"You keep pushing for these humane compromises. Time to catch on."
Only then did Hong Won and Yuk Chil grasp Mujin's true intent, left utterly speechless. This was a man whose very nature operated on an entirely different plane from ordinary folk.
A thorough materialist void.
"As members of the Beggars' Sect, we ought to report the facts as they are. They wouldn't dare slip us drugs or pull any tricks. Of course not. Why else would the Nine Great Beggars' Sects stand for the righteous factions?"
He was flattering the Beggars' Sect, but Yuk Chil felt no joy. This was thrusting the duty of truthful reporting onto him as a representative disciple.
'Damn it all!'
To Hong Won, it was a veiled threat. The Beggars' Sect had witnessed everything from start to finish—if they spouted nonsense later, their sect's very survival would be in jeopardy.
"Cheol-ho, fetch what we prepared from the carriage. Nothing beats a handprint for certainty."
"Yes, Master."
Cheol-ho brought the stationery as instructed. He even hauled out the portable desk stored in the carriage. No one quite understood why such things were kept there. Warriors didn't typically lug around writing sets and desks.
"Sit down, all of you. You lot—clean up the surroundings."
Mujin ordered the Thousand Hands Sect disciples to tidy the area. It wasn't his sect, yet he treated it as if it were.
The Thousand Hands disciples snapped to attention at the reaper's command, disposing of their comrades' corpses. Who would dare refuse? Defy him, and they'd end up as meat lumps just like the others.
The sight of them trembling as they cleaned the darkening space was downright eerie.
Whish!
The indifferent wind alone pierced the suffocating silence.
"Sit, you too."
"Why me?"
"Come on, the Beggars' Sect has to vouch for it. Otherwise, these guys are dead. You're not chickening out now, are you?"
"...Of course not!"
He'd stepped in it good.
Regret flooded Yuk Chil for getting involved. But with Hong Won and the Thousand Hands disciples pleading with desperate eyes, he let out a sigh.
Beg for your lives from the guy who wants you dead—not some beggar!
The more he watched, the more astonishing it became.
Yuk Chil eyed Mujin with renewed wonder.
'What the hell are you?'
Stronger than expected—fine. But those unhesitating hands could belong to a human butcher without exaggeration. He killed so simply, so efficiently, so flawlessly that it felt unreal.
Not a martial artist—just someone carving up people like pork at a slaughterhouse.
'You two okay with this?'
Cheol-ho and Na-reung took it in stride, as if it were nothing new.
They'd seen it before. Once Mujin marked someone as an enemy, there was no mercy. He didn't care who they were—man, woman, young, old—he struck first and asked questions never. No drawn-out excuses.
And their casual acceptance of it all, even when he killed without a second thought, was the real kicker. Survive that, and you truly knew Mujin.
'Why spare enemies!'
'So why butt in!'
In the jianghu, an enemy's sob story meant nothing. To survive, you had to kill your foes.
An unspoken rule of the rivers and lakes.
Justice couldn't dispense justice if it was dead.
"This is payment for your lives. Think hard and write it well. If the amount's too low and sours my mood, heads will roll. No point pondering after you're dead, right?"
"...Understood."
Mujin pulled out six sheets of crisp, sturdy paper and began writing.
The gist: The Thousand Hands Sect had launched a murderous revenge assault but got turned back on themselves. All events vouched for by witnesses—the Beggars' Sect. They'd pay a fitting price to survive. Pathetic, but necessary.
"A hundred thousand nyang oughta do it."
"That enough for you?"
"Big spender, eh? A hundred thousand in gold sounds perfect."
Now that's a different tune.
Hong Won was stunned, and even the Thousand Hands disciples listening in with perked ears gasped in shock.
"...Not silver nyang?"
"Who're you callin' a beggar!"
Yuk Chil, unwittingly reduced to a beggar guarantor, bristled. Insulting beggars right in front of the Beggars' Sect!
"Great hero, please show leniency!"
"Fine, fifty thousand."
"We couldn't scrape that together even selling off the sect!"
"Thirty thousand—no more. Or you die."
"...Understood!"
To survive, Hong Won had no choice but to ink his handprint—and even his footprint. The humiliation burned.
But there was no alternative.
"Knew you'd pull this, so I roped in a Beggars' disciple. See? I'm planned out too."
"...!"
Thoroughly played in Mujin's palm, Hong Won seethed. He burned for immediate revenge, but with the Beggars' Sect involved, he could only pray the truth stayed buried.
"Go on. Live nicely."
"...!"
"Answer properly. What if the Blood Asura Sect finds out?"
"I'll live nicely!"
For the Thousand Hands Sect, locked in stalemate with the Blood Asura Sect, hiding their losses was imperative. The enemy wouldn't miss a chance like that.
Hong Won departed with his disciples. Not a shred of their earlier bravado remained.
The money would be verified via remittance. Try to cheat, and he'd hunt them down, slaughter the lot, and torch the place.
'See that?'
-Not War King, but Money King.
No money, no pride. Money was the ultimate pride-giver.
"You dragged me into this on purpose!"
Feeling used, Yuk Chil mustered tremendous courage. Risky move—amid the scattered meat lumps, one more wouldn't stand out.
"I'm smart by nature. Way above average. Everything from one to ten, all calculated."
Damn, he's serious!
Not a shred of planning. Clearly caught while investigating him. Too soon into the Mujin probe.
'What rotten luck!'
The Thousand Hands revenge played out as expected, but he'd given zero thought to the aftermath.
"What if I hadn't stepped in?"
"Kill 'em all and burn it down."
"...Holy shit!"
Yuk Chil was floored, words failing him. No contingencies—just pure impulse. No way this guy plotted meticulously from start to finish.
Shot himself in the foot!
But Yuk Chil's intervention had secured a witness to legitimize it all. Heaven's grace? Pity for the Thousand Hands Sect? Hard to say.
"Oh right! Gotta report. Scribble it here while you're at it."
"What makes you think I know what to write?"
"Just write what you saw. Who's stopping you?"
After finishing a meal amid the sea of blood, Mujin retired to the carriage for sleep.
Taejin and Na-reung cleaned up and followed suit.
Caught red-handed in the guessing game.
His watch now.
Left alone with the stationery, Yuk Chil picked up the brush in a daze. He couldn't grasp what he was even doing.
'What kind of maniac is this!'
If he were hiding something, a Beggars' Sect disciple would at least probe his intent. But he lived utterly without guile—no intent to conceal whatsoever.
He killed every foe that came without fail, then took money from those who left. No pay? Kill and burn.
Come to think of it, worse than a butcher!
'Don't say I didn't warn you!'
Yuk Chil grumbled as he wrote down exactly what he'd seen. Much later, reviewing it, he grimaced fiercely.
'Send it or trash it?'
Sending it would land him in hot water, not Mujin.
'Can't falsify it!'
If you clarify suspicions and resolve doubts to your satisfaction, you possess the bare minimum qualities of an investigator.
Yong Chuseong had mobilized agents to monitor and gather intel on the Nangong Family's suspicious moves following their Little Dragon Tournament.
'The Sword Emperor's still kicking.'
Intelligence on the Five Great Families was vital. Nangong especially. The Sword Emperor had been largely absent from the public eye. Rumors swirled of some calamity or qi deviation.
'No sign of the Poison Flying Sword.'
The Sword Demon's brother and left-hand sword virtuoso. He'd vanished after the tournament. Could be on a mission, but he hadn't pinged the Beggars' Sect's info network. No man evades beggars' eyes like smoke.
'Something went down.'
Other families' reactions post-tournament were off too. High chance the Poison Flying Sword was tangled up somehow.
'Quiet despite that means they handled it.'
The Little Dragon Tournament was kids' play, sure—but Nangong prestige hung on it. Annual event, no room for sloppiness to the end.
Yet they rushed the wrap-up.
'Sword Demon or Sword Emperor stepped in.'
Ending so quietly and covertly without a major incident? Unlikely.
Yong Chuseong's gaze sharpened.
Could dismiss as internal family matter. But that made it worth suspecting the opposite. If the Poison Flying Sword were reckless, fine—but with Sword Demon and Emperor active, would Nangong risk it?
'They had defenses in place.'
Turning clues into solid intel—the process was masterful. Even the Beggars' Sect acknowledged Yong Chuseong's prowess. Unsolvable cases cracked under him.
'Long stretch of peace.'
He'd sensed an unnatural qi stirring across the continent. He moved in secret to uncover its nature.
'Poison Flying Sword's absence: five years.'
Time to master left-hand sword and reclaim his power? A mere five years. Time to hunt his backers.
A Beggars' Sect disciple entered the ragtag hovel.
"Word from Yuk Chil."
Yong Chuseong took the letter, frowning at the paper's quality.
"Fine stock!"
"...?"
"I'll skin anyone wasting branch funds."
"...Yes, sir!"
Beggars used scraps for everything—that was the founding sect leader's iron will.
"Future generations, beg till you drop!"
Even on his deathbed, he'd left beggars profoundly moved with beggar wisdom. True beggars spread beggars far and wide to grow the sect—that grand vision.
Grumbling, Yong Chuseong unfolded the crumpled letter and scanned the contents.
The opening line was striking.
-This bastard, what the hell is he?
Yong Chuseong beamed, pleased. Yuk Chil's instincts matched his own—he approved.
Crunch!
His face twisted savagely at what followed.
"This punk's messing with me!"