Blood Wolf Young Master (1)
The tea in her cup rippled just as turbulently as her heart.
It was much like her state of mind these days.
Before Han Bin had appeared, the succession in Hebei had boiled down to a contest between the eldest and second young masters.
Even when Han Bin had received a sword from the Paeng Family, she hadn't been too worried.
She'd seen it as merely tossing a pebble into a stagnant pond to liven up the dull rivalry between those two.
But now, that pebble was skipping across the surface of the lake, sending waves everywhere.
At that moment, the door at the entrance to the third floor slid open.
Whoosh.
The sleeves of the man who entered bore the cloud emblem of the Kunlun Sect.
Others followed in his wake, streaming into the room.
Before long, quite a crowd had gathered around the large table where Madam Jeonghwa sat.
Madam Jeonghwa exchanged greetings with each of them before rising from her seat.
She lifted her cup with both hands and bowed her head to the assembled group.
"To all of you who have gathered here for the sake of change in the Henan Jeong Family, allow me to offer this toast."
Madam Jeonghwa's voice, as she raised her cup, was as sweet as if it had been drizzled with honey. But her eyes darted about like those of a venomous serpent.
That lasted only a moment before she masked her expression.
As Madam Jeonghwa lifted her cup, everyone else followed suit, tossing back their drinks.
With a snap of her fingers, the musicians seated nearby struck up a lively tune on their seven-stringed zithers.
In the midst of the merry atmosphere, a middle-aged man from the Whirlwind Valley spoke up.
"It's about time the Henan Jeong Family underwent some changes."
The speaker was Yi Jinmyeong, a first-generation disciple of the Kunlun Sect.
He was a guest staying at the Jeong Family manor in Henan.
"Master Yi, I'm grateful you think so."
"No need for such words."
Yi Jinmyeong gave a slight bow, and this time a man in a white uniform rose with cup in hand.
"A toast to the Jeong Family of Henan—and to its future family head."
The man's chest bore the distinct emblem of the Jeomcheong Sect.
He was Jeong Changmyeong, an elder of the Jeomcheong Sect.
Madam Jeonghwa waved a hand at his words.
"Family head? Oh, that's far too premature. It's still just a distant dream."
"I suspect one or two years will suffice..."
"I'm touched that you say so."
Madam Jeonghwa dipped her head slightly, and everyone exchanged knowing glances, chuckling softly.
What was going on here?
Just as she had planted her own people in the Hebei Paeng Family under the guise of guests, Madam Jeonghwa had done the same in the Henan Jeong Family.
In truth, her first target had been the Jeong Family, not the Paeng.
For that reason, she had long ago recommended a great many of her own retainers to the Jeong Family, securing their positions there.
And this inn had become her forward base for realizing her ambitions.
After that, they avoided political talk, sticking to light conversation.
Once the mood had ripened, she addressed the group.
"There's a fine spectacle to be seen, so please pay a visit to the Hebei Paeng Family in a week."
As Madam Jeonghwa raised her cup again, Yi Jinmyeong of Kunlun asked,
"What sort of spectacle might that be?"
"I'll show you the Paeng Family's swordsmanship."
"Hebei's sword?"
"I wonder if Hebei's sword truly resembles a tiger—or something else entirely?"
"A tricky question. The Paeng blade arts evoke a tiger's ferocity, but their sword? That's unfamiliar territory. I'll have to go and broaden my horizons."
Yi Jinmyeong lifted his cup, and the others laughed and nodded in agreement.
Perhaps because of their laughter, the waves of the Zhang Ha River churned more vigorously than usual today.
A week later, at Cheonsu Manor.
Han Bin stood in the center of the training ground from dawn, gasping for breath.
"Huff... huff!"
Paler even than Han Bin, who had pushed his arts to the point of turning ghostly white, was Hong Chilgae.
"Did you just execute the Gugeol Ship-pal-bo all the way to its peak?"
Hong Chilgae's eyes trembled.
What had just happened was utterly impossible.
It had been nearly a month since Hong Chilgae arrived here.
In that time, countless battles of wits had unfolded between him and Han Bin.
The reason Hong Chilgae had tied that beggar's knot on Han Bin was simple.
Only a true beggar, marked by the knot, could be taught the Beggar Clan's secret techniques.
Be it the clan's supreme palm art, the Cheongryong Ship-pal-jang, or its signature staff technique, the Tagu Bongseul.
Even dangling those ultimate arts as bait, Han Bin had refused them all.
Of course, Han Bin had two major reasons.
First, he had no desire to become a beggar. Second, he already possessed the Yongrin Sword Art—still incomplete, but a peerless divine skill.
With their interests misaligned, the transmission of arts kept getting postponed.
So they settled on the Beggar Clan's supreme lightness skill and footwork: the Gugeol Ship-pal-bo.
That much, at least, could be taught even to a non-beggar.
Why? Because the Gugeol Ship-pal-bo was notoriously difficult.
No matter who was taught it, they rarely progressed beyond one or two layers.
Hong Chilgae himself, after sixty years as a beggar, had only reached the fourth layer.
So what was the pinnacle of the Gugeol Ship-pal-bo?
Only its creator, Zhang Chilgong, could know.
Yet now, Hong Chilgae had witnessed that pinnacle with his own eyes.
And he'd only taught it to Han Bin yesterday.
Peak mastery in a single day?
This had to be one of two things.
Either Han Bin was fated to be a true beggar, or he was a martial genius that would make even Zhang Sanfeng or Dharma weep.
Hong Chilgae steadied his pounding heart and gazed at Han Bin.
Even as he panted, Han Bin stared vacantly into the distance, a picture of transcendence in Hong Chilgae's eyes—like a daoist sage beyond all worldly ties.
In truth, Han Bin was simply staring at his Yongrin Sword Art manual.
After receiving the Gugeol Ship-pal-bo from Hong Chilgae yesterday, something strange had happened.
A new chapter had been added to the Yongrin Sword Art.
[Fusion Edition]
The explanation was straightforward.
Upon learning an art compatible with Yongrin, one could apply the Yongrin Sword Art formulas to it.
(Details on compatible arts omitted due to space.)
And right below, the Gugeol Ship-pal-bo had taken root.
[Gugeol Ship-pal-bo – The Beggar Clan's supreme lightness skill. An art infused with Yongrin's energy. Can enhance effects using the Speed formula from the Yongrin Sword Art mantras.]
That was the result of applying the Speed formula to the Gugeol Ship-pal-bo.
Light as a leaf on the wind, swift as lightning.
He could reach anywhere he desired without feeling his body's weight, his feet moving ahead of his thoughts.
But there was a problem.
After using all ten Speed formulas, about fifteen minutes later, his body had slowed dramatically.
Not just slowed—it reverted to the state before acquiring the Yongrin Sword Art's Speed.
[Speed (Su): Gong (Empty)]
The Speed formula was now completely depleted.
This sparked a question in Han Bin's mind.
The basic Yongrin Sword Art formulas each had ten instances.
Were ten truly the limit for each?
The minimum inner power for ranking among the orthodox hundred masters was one gapja.
That meant the Gong formula alone should expand to at least sixty.
He figured the simplification of the basic manual—via acquiring human-grade applied formulas—was groundwork for further expansion.
As a test to break that limit, he'd poured all the Speed formulas into the Gugeol Ship-pal-bo.
The result? Failure.
Only extreme fatigue piled up.
Hong Chilgae called out to Han Bin in a gentle voice.
"My disciple."
"Yes, Master."
"You didn't throw away the knot I gave you, did you?"
As Hong Chilgae eyed him expectantly, Han Bin replied with a deadpan expression.
"Ah, it's probably somewhere in my room."
"Haha, you insolent brat. After all the sincerity I've poured into you, shouldn't you at least wear it for style?"
"I'll give that some serious thought."
Han Bin gave a deep fist salute and swiftly exited the training ground.
He sensed danger. Hong Chilgae's expression and tone felt ominous, like he was burning with resolve to turn Han Bin into a real beggar.
Hong Chilgae chased after him, shouting,
"Disciple! Let's go together!"
The next morning.
Instead of the training ground, Han Bin sat cross-legged on the pavilion in front of his quarters.
Hong Chilgae asked at the sight.
"Disciple. Could you demonstrate that Gugeol Ship-pal-bo from yesterday once more?"
Han Bin opened his closed eyes.
"Master."
"What is it, disciple?"
"My apologies, but please don't speak to me while I'm circulating my qi."
"Haha, weren't you just sitting there with your eyes closed? I don't sense any qi flow."
"I understand that meditation is more crucial than qi circulation in this practice."
"Can't you train instead of meditating?"
"Then how about handing over the Cheongryong Ship-pal-jang?"
"Would that do it?"
"You're seriously offering?"
"If you wear the knot I gave you, I'd teach you not just the Cheongryong Ship-pal-jang, but the full Tagu Bongseul..."
Han Bin cut him off.
"Pass."
As Han Bin waved dismissively, Hong Chilgae narrowed his eyes.
Their battle of wits resumed.
To an onlooker, they looked less like master and disciple and more like a street merchant haggling with a customer.
Watching from the side, Jang Ja-myeong shook his head.
Of course, Sim Miho and So Daeseop were there too.
All their faces bore the exact same expression, as if stamped from the same mold.
Even for a temporary master-disciple bond, this flew in the face of murim decorum.
As everyone stared at Han Bin and Hong Chilgae, Han Bin unfolded his legs and stood.
Hong Chilgae asked,
"What's this? Have you decided to show off your arts?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Then hurry up and demonstrate."
"Not now."
"Not now?"
As Hong Chilgae tilted his head, a dust cloud rose in the distance.
Han Bin grinned at the sight.
He had a hunch who it was. No one else here barreled in so recklessly except Cheolno.
And sure enough.
As the dust settled, Cheolno stood before Han Bin, panting.
"Young master, they've finally arrived."
"About time!"
Han Bin nodded, and Hong Chilgae asked,
"What exactly has arrived?"
"The Plum Blossom Swordsman of the Volcanic Sect, here to cross swords with me."
"Oh ho."
Hong Chilgae's eyes gleamed.
At that moment,
Guided by Jang Sam and Jo Ho, Paeng Mubin's group approached at a leisurely pace.
Originally, only Se Jaeo of the Volcanic Sect and Paeng Daewi as observer were expected.
But there were quite a few more.
Looking closely, he spotted Kunlun uniforms and Jeomcheong ones too.
And bringing up the rear was none other than Madam Jeonghwa.
It was like a backdrop of murim heavyweights arrayed to intimidate with sheer prestige.
Prestige?
Han Bin smirked and glanced sidelong at Hong Chilgae.
There was no trace of the Beggar Clan elder Mujaeja Hong Chilgae.
Just a beaming old man in fine white robes, the picture of a Whirlwind Valley elder.
Would they even recognize him?
Han Bin would've bet a bundle of dried mackerel they wouldn't.
Just then, their procession reached Han Bin.
Madam Jeonghwa, who had been at the very back, stepped forward with a radiant smile.