Chapter 422
The beggar gang of Byeokgye Village clicked their tongues in irritation as they approached Mumu, who once again refused to beg and instead scavenged for bugs to eat.
"Hey, you idiot!"
Thwack!
A beggar struck Mumu's head with a wooden bowl as he crouched, chewing on a bug, then barked at him.
"You're supposed to beg and bring something back! Why the hell do you keep stuffing your face with bugs?"
Like other beggar gangs, the beggars of Byeokgye Village formed their own community, living together.
After handing over what they begged to their Branch Chief, they received a fair share of food in return.
But Mumu didn't even beg properly—he just scavenged bugs and scraps to shove into his own mouth.
It was enough to make anyone's blood boil.
Munch, munch.
Even after getting smacked hard on the head, Mumu paid no mind and kept chewing on the bug with gusto.
"Damn it!"
As the middle-aged man raised his fist again, glaring at Mumu's hideous face,
"Leave him be. How hungry must he be to end up like this? Just look at how skinny he is."
Fatty stepped forward and held out his own bowl.
"I managed to get some leftover rice from the lower village."
Inside the bowl, along with cold rice, was a generous chunk of tofu—a kind offering from someone.
"I'll teach this guy properly, so why don't you all head back?"
Fatty was well-liked, both among the beggar gang and the villagers, thanks to his friendly nature and smooth tongue.
"Fatty. I'm only letting this slide because it's you."
The middle-aged man snatched the bowl from Fatty's hands before turning away.
"Bastards. Couldn't even leave a little behind? Took everything."
Fatty clicked his tongue as he watched the gang leave, then let out a sigh.
"Mumu. When are you gonna start begging properly?"
"I don't want to beg."
For once, Mumu opened his mouth to speak.
His voice was low and cold, but oddly pleasant to the ear.
"'Don't want to beg'? And since when do you drop honorifics with me?"
Fatty scowled.
"If you're part of the beggar gang, communal living comes first. You can't just eat bugs because you feel like it."
"I never said I joined the beggar gang."
"Aren't you a beggar? All the beggars around Byeokgye Village are under that bald bastard's control."
"Bald bastard?"
Just then, from behind Fatty,
a massive man with not a single strand of hair and deep burn scars covering his face approached, leading five or six beggars.
It was Black Bear—the Branch Chief of Byeokgye Village's beggar gang.
"B-Branch Chief."
"Fatty. You little shit. I let you off easy because you're good at begging, and now you're getting cocky?"
Thud!
A kick from Black Bear sent Fatty sprawling.
"And what the hell are you staring at? Why're your eyes so wide?"
Thud!
Mumu, too, was knocked flat by Black Bear's boot.
"Boys, teach these bastards some manners."
Thud! Whack! Crack!
At Black Bear's command, Mumu and Fatty were thoroughly beaten by the gang—so thoroughly that dust would've flown even on a rainy day.
"Watch your mouths from now on. Don't go pissing off the Branch Chief for no reason."
As Black Bear's gang dusted off their hands and left, Mumu and Fatty lay sprawled on the ground, their faces swollen like puffed-up dough.
"You little... I got beat up because of you."
"I wasn't the one who called him a bald bastard."
"Oh, real smooth, you brat."
Drip, drip.
A thin trail of blood trickled from Fatty's forehead.
The skin on the head is thin—even a small wound bleeds heavily.
Mumu, who had been staring blankly, suddenly sprang up and began plucking grass from the opposite side.
Then, grabbing a clean stone, he started grinding the grass into a paste. Once it turned sticky, he began applying it to Fatty's bleeding head.
"Ow! That stings!"
"Bear with it."
As the thick paste was applied, the gushing blood gradually slowed.
Satisfied, Mumu added a little more to the wound.
Fatty watched Mumu's serious expression as he tended to the injury and muttered enviously,
"Damn. Skinny as a rake, but built like a damn ox."
Mumu, perhaps hardened from frequent beatings, bounced back quickly despite the thrashing.
"Still able to move your mouth, huh? Guess you're not dead yet."
Once the bleeding stopped completely, Mumu went back to scavenging for bugs.
"Tastes good?"
"No."
"Gimme some. Because of you, even the food I begged got stolen."
Slurp. Crunch. Crunch.
Before they knew it, Fatty was squatting side by side with Mumu, amiably picking at bugs and eating them together.
Clatter! Clatter!
Then, in the distance, a massive shadow came charging toward them like mad.
It was a white horse with fur as pale as snow, and atop it, a young woman with wide, panicked eyes was screaming.
"Whoa—!"
Judging by the palace dress she wore—completely unsuitable for riding—it seemed she had forced herself onto a horse she couldn't handle, and things had gone awry.
"Move!"
The woman spotted Mumu and Fatty too late and shouted, but it was already over.
The crazily galloping horse was now right in front of Mumu's nose.
But the moment the horse's eyes met Mumu's—
Skreee—!
Suddenly, the horse jerked to a halt, skidding before—
Neigh—!
—abruptly rearing up on its hind legs.
"Ahh!"
With a short scream, the woman tumbled from the horse.
Yet, in that instant, Mumu moved swiftly, catching her in both hands before she hit the ground.
"Whoa."
Fatty let out an astonished gasp.
Mumu had clearly been right in front of the horse moments before impact—when had he gotten to its side?
"Young Mistress!"
Clatter! Clatter!
From the distance, a sharp voice rang out as a martial artist on horseback came galloping toward them.
His eyes were sharp, his glossy black martial robes perfectly fitted, and a crimson sash was tightly cinched around his waist.
Though his features were quite handsome, there was something undeniably sinister in his gaze.
This was none other than Gyo Cheon-ak, the martial arts instructor employed by the Seong Family Manor.
"Are you unharmed?"
As Gyo Cheon-ak hurriedly dismounted and rushed over, the white-clad woman steadied herself and nodded.
"Yes, I'm fine."
Only then did she look at the beggar who had caught her.
His long hair obscured most of his face, but beneath it, patches of melted skin and blackened scabs were visible.
A horrifically disfigured appearance—yet strangely, his eyes were endlessly clear and deep.
Mumu carefully set the woman down on the ground.
Watching this, Gyo Cheon-ak suddenly lashed out with his whip, striking Mumu across the back.
"How dare you!"
Crack!
Instantly, a vivid red welt bloomed across Mumu's back.
The pain must have been enough to knock him unconscious, yet Mumu only let out a stifled groan and hunched over.
"Instructor Gyo! What are you doing?!"
The white-clad woman shouted, but Gyo Cheon-ak replied as if it were obvious.
"That beggar dared to lay hands on your precious body, Young Mistress!"
"This man just saved me from falling off my horse!"
Then she reached out to steady Mumu.
"Are you alright?"
Mumu's clothes were covered in all sorts of filth, but she didn't seem to mind, her expression unbothered.
"I'm truly sorry. Let me apologize on his behalf."
Only then did Mumu stare directly at the woman's face.
Her eyes were long and phoenix-like, her skin flawless. Though her unruly expression and voice slightly dulled her otherwise elegant beauty.
She was none other than Seong Su-ryeo, the sole daughter of the famously wealthy Seong Family Manor.
Even at her question, Mumu gave no answer, simply turning his gaze away.
"We're fine!"
As the awkward silence stretched, Fatty stepped forward with quick perception, waving both hands.
"Beggars like us get beaten every day—it's nothing new. No need to trouble yourself, Young Mistress."
"But—"
Seong Su-ryeo's guilty expression flickered between them before her eyes suddenly widened.
Bits of half-chewed bugs were still stuck messily around Fatty's mouth.
"Were you... eating bugs?"
"Huh? Ah, no—this was just a little snack to tide us over."
As Fatty wiped his mouth, Seong Su-ryeo seemed to make up her mind, slipping off a bracelet from her wrist.
"Take this. With this, you won't have to worry about food for months."
"You're giving this... to us?"
"You helped me, and you got hurt because of it. It's nothing much."
"Ohhh, thank you so much!"
Fatty bowed deeply, reaching out—but Mumu scowled and stepped forward.
"We don't need it."
He waved his hand dismissively, his tone firm.
"Take it back."
Seong Su-ryeo blinked, and Mumu continued flatly.
"Giving something like this to us is pointless. We can't even sell it without being accused of theft. If we're lucky, we'll just get a beating for it."
"S-Sorry! This guy's always been a little... off in the head!"
The fat man tried to clamp a hand over his mouth, but Mumu coldly shook off his hand.
"Of course, we'd lose it to the Branch Chief before we could even sell it."
"Is that so?"
Seong Su-ryeo replied with an apologetic expression.
"I wanted to repay you somehow. What should I do?"
"If you're truly grateful, have your servants bring us a lump of cold rice. That would be the best repayment."
"You insolent wretch! How dare a mere vagabond speak like that to our young mistress? Do you even know who she is?"
Gyo Cheon-ak roared again at Mumu's blunt words. But Seong Su-ryeo simply nodded with an unfazed expression.
"Most beggars would take whatever's given. You're quite particular, aren't you?"
She flashed a bright smile, revealing pearly white teeth.
"Very well. Next time, I'll bring lumps of cold rice."
Turning, she bowed slightly to Gyo Cheon-ak as well.
"Master Gyo, I apologize. I shouldn't have insisted when you said no. I just wanted to tame Baek-a quickly."
Gyo Cheon-ak clicked his tongue in resignation.
"Let's return for now, young mistress."
After helping her mount his own horse, he took the reins and began walking slowly alongside the white stallion.
Fatty, who'd been staring blankly at their departure, suddenly snapped back to reality.
"You crazy bastard!"
He grabbed Mumu by the collar and shook him violently.
"Do you know how much those jewels are worth? With just one of those, we could eat and drink for a whole year!"
Pounding the ground in frustration, he shouted:
"And what do you mean we couldn't sell it? There are professional fences who handle exactly that sort of thing!"
"We'd die."
"What?"
"If we took those things, nine times out of ten we'd die."
"What kind of nonsense is that? Die how?"
Mumu's expression remained firm.
"Don't fences pay protection money to the Black Syndicate too?"
Locking eyes with Fatty, he continued:
"When lives are traded for just one or two silver taels... what do you think they'd do to quietly swallow something that valuable?"
Fatty's jaw dropped.
He'd been too excited by the jewel-encrusted accessories to think straight.
But on second thought—a fence would more likely kill them and take everything than pay fairly.
For thugs from the Black Syndicate, killing a couple of nameless beggars would be nothing.
"Well... now that you mention it, remember when that mutt from the next village over got beaten to death by Syndicate enforcers for messing with some shady goods?"
"Even without that, it's best not to accept offerings from the wealthy. Servants or martial artists often intercept such things anyway."
"Ugh..."
Fatty nodded, recalling Gyo Cheon-ak's chilling glare.
Had they taken that bracelet, that man in particular would surely have taken action.
"Mumu, you might not know much else, but you're definitely beggar-born through and through."
"What do you mean?"
"Even with amnesia, you understand beggar life better than I do. Hahaha!"
"I suppose that's true."
Mumu nodded in agreement.
He had no memories prior to arriving in the village—not even his name. Yet his instincts as a beggar were undeniable.
Which meant he'd definitely been one before.
"Maybe you got killed for messing with stolen goods too? Your clothes were torn to shreds, but the fabric was high quality."
When found, Mumu's garments had been shredded to rags.
Perhaps he'd also suffered for meddling with something he shouldn't have.
"That's possible too."
Mumu gazed bitterly at the distant sky.
"Maybe losing my memory is punishment for wicked deeds in my past..."
"Don't go that far! Could've been anything."
Fatty laughed, clapping Mumu's shoulder.
"Let's get some rest. After all that beating, my whole body aches."
"Agreed."
Side by side, they walked back toward Byeokgye Village.
That night.
Heavy snowflakes blanketed the world in white as an icy wind howled endlessly.
Despite the bone-chilling cold that seemed to freeze the world itself, Mumu slept curled up in a small hut slightly removed from Byeokgye Village.
Normally, he too should have been sleeping in the village under Black Bear's rule.
There were sturdy houses there, with warm fires lit throughout to ward off the cold.
But Mumu refused to sleep there.
He wanted no part of Black Bear's scrutiny—and more importantly, he talked excessively in his sleep.
Because he'd been beaten black and blue every single time.
He'd rather endure the cold and hardship than sleep there—it was far more peaceful this way.
"Ugh..."
Mumu, curled up in the hut, let out a faint groan.
He was dreaming again.
The sleeping child slowly opened his eyes.
Before him, in the unfocused blur of his surroundings, appeared a pair of eyes—clear, beautiful, like the open sea.
"You had another nightmare, didn't you?"
A gentle hand brushed over the child's head and cheek.
The child blinked, and his vision sharpened.
There, smiling tenderly, was the face of his beautiful mother.
The child rolled his eyes left and right.
Gradually, the dimly lit room came into view.
A small desk stood to one side, adorned with expensive inkstones and brushes—the kind used by high-ranking officials.
The bookshelf was packed with countless books, and the chair was just the right size for a child of six or seven.
At a glance, it was clearly the bedroom of a noble family's child—one who read voraciously.
"Are you alright?"
His mother stroked his forehead as she asked. The child, only his head poking out from under the blanket, nodded.
He looked about five or six years old.
Plump cheeks, fair skin, and striking black-and-white eyes.
His appearance was like that of a heavenly child, his gaze calm and mature.
"Go back to sleep. It's not even midnight yet."
At his mother's words, the child nodded again and soon sank back into deep slumber.
Creak.
Just then, the door opened, and a middle-aged man in blue robes entered, speaking in a low voice. It was the child's father.
"He had another nightmare, it seems."
His voice was deep and clear.
The father gazed at his son, tucked under the blanket, and smiled softly.
"Lately, I don't know why his sleep is so troubled."
The couple had rushed here in the middle of the night, startled awake by their child's faint whimpers.
"Could it be because he secretly read the Beast Poison Scripture last night?"
"The Beast Poison Scripture? Who gave him such a book?"
"Who else? That lama monk you brought back from Tibet."
The woman crossed her arms.
"This child loves reading more than anything. The lama knew that and has been secretly handing him forbidden texts, one by one."
The man coughed awkwardly.
"He's a high monk of profound Divine Power, and he came here to heal our child. He would never do something so reckless..."
Their hushed conversation continued for a while.
In truth, the child wasn't asleep yet.
He listened to their murmurs like a lullaby.
A father revered by all, a mother the kindest and warmest in the world.
As long as his family was together like this, the child lacked nothing. And he wished this time would last forever.
But it was nothing more than a futile dream.
Whoosh.
The grand manor was engulfed in flames.
The clash of weapons and desperate screams echoed from all directions.
"I'm sorry."
With a sorrowful expression, the middle-aged man held the child and opened the secret passage hidden in the manor.
"This father... lacks the strength to protect you any longer."
Swallowing his anguish, he tightly embraced his beloved son.
"Forget everything."
He channeled his Internal Power and lightly tapped the child's Heavenly Spirit Point.
Instantly, all the warm memories in the child's mind vanished. At the same time, he lost consciousness, falling into a deep slumber.
Tap, tap, tap!
The man swiftly sealed his son's acupoints using the long-lost Turtle Breath Grand Art of the martial world—
A technique that induced a deathlike state, preserving life for three months with just a wisp of breath.
"And survive. No matter what."
With a heart full of grief, he hugged the child one last time, placed him inside the passage, and shut the door.
And so, a season passed.
Rustle, rustle.
Amid the ruins of the manor, now reduced to ashes by fire, a small circular gap formed near a fallen beam.
A child emerged from the earth.
His eyes were hollow.
Who am I?
Why am I standing in these ruins?
No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't find the answer.
Plop.
Suddenly, the sky darkened to gray, and white snowflakes began to fall.
Unconsciously, the child reached out and caught one.
It should have melted the moment it touched his skin, but perhaps because his blood circulation hadn't fully recovered, the snowflake remained intact.
After staring at it for a long time, the child looked around.
Then, with unfocused eyes, he took a step forward.
He didn't know where to go, but deep in his unconscious, he knew he had to keep moving.
And so, amid the falling snowflakes... the child walked on instinct, leaving the manor behind.