Chapter 222
Chapter 222
-----------------------------------------------------------------
>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 222
>Chapter Title: Joy (2)
>-----------------------------------------------------------------
Two days later.
Il-mok departed Nanzhou toward Pingliang County, wearing the mask of an enraged Four Heavenly Kings statue.
The carriage he rode carried Baek-cheon and Jeong-hyeon, along with the three women who had performed with them at the recent assembly.
Behind them followed carriages loaded with musicians, carpenters, and cooks.
Il-mok had left Dan-bin and the others behind in Nanzhou. He had ordered them to handle any matters that arose in his absence.
At that moment, a voice called out from the rear.
“Hahaha! Now I see—the reason you wear that mask is to hide your ugly mug!”
At his shout, Jeong-hyeon flinched for some reason, even though she wasn’t wearing a mask.
She seemed to have taken the remark about hiding one’s face personally.
Il-mok poked his head slightly out of the carriage and shouted back at the beggar’s jest.
“Ahem. It’s because my lightness skill is lacking. Don’t worry about me—just go on ahead comfortably.”
Il-mok and his group were traveling while maintaining a certain distance from the beggars.
It was to prevent his hygiene obsession from flaring up if they got too close.
As a bonus, Il-mok had added a bit of mysticism to play the role of a shaman.
And so, after two days of this not-quite-together companionship with the beggars at a distance...
By the time they arrived in Pingliang County, the number of beggars had doubled.
Over the past two days, Little Beggar had dispatched Beggar’s Sect disciples to send letters throughout Gansu Province, summoning all of them to Pingliang County.
Some hadn’t arrived yet due to the distance, while others had already reached Pingliang County or joined along the way.
The expressions of those who had scouted the marketplace were ones of utter shock.
“Haa…”
“Please… please send us to paradise…”
Most of the townsfolk displayed anxiety or listlessness, making the scene resemble a dying village.
Having heard from Il-mok why the villagers were in such a state, Little Beggar bellowed in a rage-filled voice.
“You sons of bitches! Even if it costs me my life, I’ll grab the Blood Cult by the tail and exterminate them all!”
Il-mok nodded at his outburst.
If the Ghost Valley Scholar was truly connected to the Blood Cult, then those bastards were the worst scum under heaven.
* * *
The first place Il-mok and his group headed was the shantytown.
In this impoverished era, beggars could be found everywhere under the sun, and Pingliang County was no exception—nor were the Beggar’s Sect disciples who had helped them.
The simple reason Little Beggar had been unaware of the horrific events here, despite the presence of those disciples, was this:
They too had already been poisoned by hookweed.
Little Beggar squeezed his eyes shut at the sight of the Beggar’s Sect disciples and beggars drooling or sitting with vacant stares.
“I’d heard reports coming in steadily.”
“These ones are already addicted to hookweed. They were probably threatened that they wouldn’t be sent to paradise anymore if they reported the truth to the sect.”
Il-mok spoke as if consoling Little Beggar.
Having read the journal left by the Ghost Valley Scholar’s disciple, Il-mok knew they were already hooked.
“They could’ve reported it before getting addicted.”
“That Ghost Valley Scholar and his disciples aren’t idiots. They’re sharp when it comes to evil schemes, so they likely poisoned these ones first. Just look at their conditions—their withdrawal symptoms are far worse than the others’.”
Little Beggar trembled with fury as Il-mok explained based on the journal’s contents, glaring at the hookweed-riddled beggars.
Il-mok couldn’t tell if it was pity for their addiction or anger at the disciples for failing in their duties.
A moment later, Little Beggar turned to Il-mok after barely calming his rage.
“These ones won’t be much help with the work.”
“Instead, we’ll have to help them.”
“???”
As Little Beggar stared in confusion, Il-mok spoke up.
“We need to gather those like them—whose addictions are so severe they can’t function—and create a place to care for them.”
Il-mok planned to entrust them to the physicians he would summon from headquarters.
Naturally, they needed proper facilities ready before then.
“So, select a few Beggar’s Sect disciples to find the severely afflicted ones. And with this carpenter here, set up a manor for them.”
The carpenter who had come along for the job from Pingliang County replied in a reluctant tone.
“Y-You mean build an entire manor from scratch?”
“Of course not. Thanks to the Ghost Valley Scholar and his disciples’ rampage, there are plenty of abandoned houses. Connect a few nearby ones with some land, and that should suffice as a manor.”
“B-But that still won’t be easy.”
Il-mok hid a smile and replied to the carpenter.
“Don’t worry. These beggars are all Beggar’s Sect disciples who’ve trained in martial arts. Each one can handle the work of four or five able-bodied men. And there are plenty more beggars still on their way.”
Il-mok spoke of the Beggar’s Sect disciples as if they were his own subordinates.
He felt no pangs of conscience. After all, he’d dragged the sect in here precisely to exploit them like this.
“With their sense of justice, they’ll do their utmost to save these pitiful souls.”
As Il-mok subtly praised the sect, Little Beggar bit eagerly.
“Of course!”
Il-mok suppressed a smile and spoke in a grave tone.
“Additionally, while searching for the severely afflicted, divide the area into sections and keep patrolling Pingliang County. Withdrawal symptoms could cause outbursts, suicides, or even crimes.”
“Indeed, those are all very plausible.”
Little Beggar nodded in understanding, recalling the villagers’ listless or unstable demeanors.
Il-mok inwardly sighed in relief, having successfully secured the first step.
‘At least I’ve bought the minimum time until the physicians arrive from headquarters.’
The real treatment for the addicts could only begin after they arrived.
He planned to have the Beggar’s Sect disciples build the treatment manor and prevent the addicts from causing incidents.
But Il-mok knew this was far from enough.
That was why he’d brought so many people.
Having finished his talk with Little Beggar, Il-mok turned to his group.
“As you can all see, most of the locals here have lost the will to live because of a flower called hookweed.”
Baek-cheon, Jeong-hyeon, and the others wore bitter expressions.
“So, your task is to give them joy. Show them that the paradise they glimpsed in their hookweed haze isn’t the only pleasure in life.”
Baek-cheon’s head snapped up, his face brimming with a sense of mission.
“That’s a role tailor-made for me! Just like the devotees at the assembly, I’ll have them singing along and reveling in delight!”
Unlike Baek-cheon’s confident display, the musicians looked worried.
“With respect to the incarnation of Maitreya, it’s no easy feat to entertain those addicted to drugs.”
Having worked in the pleasure quarters, they had seen plenty addicted to things similar to hookweed.
“Hahaha! No matter how potent this hookweed flower is, it can’t compare to the joy my voice and acting bring!”
Though Baek-cheon boasted confidently, Il-mok nodded in agreement with the musicians.
“I know it’s tough. I’m not expecting miracles where they snap out of it right away. For now, just get them to feel the music and have it linger on their lips—that’s enough.”
The musicians exchanged glances and nodded.
“We’re not sure if they’ll find joy in our music, but humming along should be doable.”
“The hymns are quite addictive, after all.”
“Hahaha! Have some confidence. Isn’t the great Baek-cheon right here with you?”
Normally, they’d have looked at him like a madman, but Il-mok nodded in satisfaction.
In times like these, a thoughtlessly positive personality was actually helpful.
The musicians couldn’t help but chuckle softly at Baek-cheon’s baseless bravado, their faces relaxing.
‘Right. If my playing can soothe them even a little, that’s reward enough.’
Back in the pleasure quarters, her music had merely been a means to earn tips or set the mood before bed.
Compared to that, this task was profoundly fulfilling.
With their hearts eased, one musician teased playfully.
“The Maitreya Cult covers our pay, and the audience is every man, woman, and child in the village—we’ll play till our hands blister.”
They were no longer pleasure-quarter musicians.
Through this mission, they had fully escaped the brothels to become the Maitreya Cult’s orchestra.
“Oh, and it doesn’t have to be just hymns. Like at the assembly, you can perform plays too. Provide the locals with all sorts of things to hear and see.”
At Il-mok’s instructions, Baek-cheon, Jeong-hyeon, and the troupe members advanced into the town, playing instruments and singing upbeat tunes.
The gazes of the villagers—who had been shuffling listlessly or trembling anxiously, biting their nails—naturally turned toward them.
An lively song began to echo through the gloomy streets of Pingliang County.
Little Beggar watched the scene for a moment before asking Il-mok.
“Will songs and plays really improve those addicted to hookweed?”
“What do you think is the main reason addicts to hookweed or similar become so powerless and anxious?”
When Il-mok countered with a question, Little Beggar pondered briefly before answering.
“Because it’s so addictive? And since it’s a kind of poison, it harms the body?”
“That’s part of it, but the biggest reason is probably that they’ve tasted such immense pleasure.”
“Immense pleasure?”
At his puzzled reaction, Il-mok elaborated.
“Exactly. Aside from inhaling the hookweed pollen, they can’t feel that level of ecstasy anymore, so life feels empty, and they crave it again.”
“…So that’s why you’re giving them other joys?”
“Isn’t it always like that? When you break up with a lover, you dive into something new to forget them or seek another love.”
When one loses the joy of romance, people either pursue new romance or fill the void with substitutes.
At Il-mok’s words, tinged with worldly wisdom, Little Beggar and the nearby Beggar’s Sect disciples all looked awkward.
“Ahem… I’ve never broken up with a lover, so it’s hard to relate.”
“…….”
Realizing the analogy didn’t land well with beggars, Il-mok sighed inwardly.
‘It’s not that they’ve never broken up—it’s that they’ve never even dated.’
Saying that might provoke a fit, so he changed the subject.
“In any case, that’s why we’re creating new forms of enjoyment for these people. And it won’t end with songs and plays. This is just the beginning.”
The performers bringing music and song to the jaded townsfolk in Pingliang County’s marketplace were like a starting shot.
Music was often called the only drug permitted by the state, making it the perfect signal flare.
And beyond that.
‘No need to limit the entertainment to just Pingliang County’s residents.’
Il-mok turned his gaze toward the Kongtong Mountains.
‘Famous even in the Central Plains, and right on the border with Shaanxi, Ningxia, and Sichuan—the Kongtong Mountains are practically next door.’
Why let a prime tourist spot rot unused?
If he could draw in the steady stream of hikers and tourists, the profits would be immense.
This grand vision sparked in Il-mok’s mind by Baek-cheon, Jeong-hyeon, and the musicians’ performance.
It was to develop Pingliang County into a cultural arts tourist destination.
Breathe life into this dying village and captivate tourists and locals alike with diverse amusements.
‘The money tourists spend will flow back to the residents, making it ideal for welfare too.’
Of course, it would require massive construction, manpower, and funds.
But Il-mok didn’t care.
“It’s about time we head to the Kongtong Mountains.”
And right on cue, beggars trailed behind him.
Martial arts-trained beggars, at that.