The Mysterious Beggar's Challenge
Old Man Jinpyeong was quite surprised. He hadn't sensed a thing right up until the elder sat down beside him. He had no idea where the man had come from. Had he moved from a nearby table? Entered late? But the elder's clothes were so ragged and filthy that if someone like him had been in the banquet hall, Jinpyeong would have noticed long ago. That left only one conclusion.
He slipped past the guards from outside. With a movement technique so advanced that no one in this entire venue noticed.
The warriors standing vigilant around the perimeter hadn't even registered the old man's sudden appearance. To possess such profound lightness skill while completely concealing his presence meant the elder was no ordinary figure.
As the three brothers stared silently at the old man, he chewed noisily on his food and spoke.
"Hey, brat. Does it matter who this old man is? Do banquet dishes belong to some master? The quicker you eat, the more you get, right?!"
The elder's words oddly echoed what Jinpyeong had said moments before. Seeing the food vanishing fast, Jinun hurriedly reached out again.
"......"
Watching Jinun immerse himself in an eating contest amid all this was utterly ridiculous. But whatever—Jinpyeong, who had been eyeing the suspicious elder, resumed grabbing food, and finally, even Jingang rejoined the feast.
The old man's appetite matched the brothers' perfectly. With hands like eight and mouths like four, the table emptied in a flash. By the time the Hwasan elder's toast to Murim peace concluded, their table was spotless.
One elder, two youths, and a boy—all craning their necks like fledglings—called for the servants. The attendants blinked in confusion at the pristine table before rushing off to refill it.
In this banquet of hundreds, they alone cared more for rice than ritual.
Waiting for the table to refill, the old man patted his belly contentedly. Up close, his wretchedness bordered on true beggary: wrinkled skin, jagged yellow teeth, black grime under his nails. Jinpyeong glanced at his waist, wondering if he was from the Open Faction—no beggar's knot in sight. Even Gaebang beggars didn't go this far.
The elder grinned at his feasting comrades.
"Lucky this empty corner spot was for beggar-like lads like you. Otherwise, this old man would've been caught eating alone and kicked out."
The height of impudence from the intruder. But "beggar-like" was so familiar to the brothers it barely stung. Jinun even thumbed up in admiration.
"Elder, you eat like a champion. I pride myself on my appetite, but I feel like I've met my lifelong rival."
"Damn brat. This old man's seeing a guy gulp food without chewing for the first time, just like you. Got teeth in your gut or what?"
The elder and Jinun burst into laughter. Jingang, eyeing the elder's rags with concern, spoke gently.
"Elder, your teeth are healthy, and you eat so heartily—it's truly a joy to see. But gorging so suddenly can cause trouble. They'll keep bringing food, so please digest slowly."
Jingang's tone was warm and sincere. The elder stared at him curiously, then turned to Jinpyeong beside him.
"Looks like you're brothers. Similar vibes, yet each so distinct—fascinating. What about you, lad? Got nothing to say?"
Jinpyeong still glared suspiciously. He hadn't imagined anyone slipping past his senses to plop down beside him.
"Didn't I ask first? Who the hell are you?"
"...Why's the youngest brat the rudest?"
"Why's an old coot like you so thick-skinned? Wrinkles dulled your senses? If we hadn't stayed quiet, you'd have been booted ages ago."
As they bickered, servants reset the table. Jingang and Jinun struck first; the glaring elder and boy soon followed suit.
The shift came when Jinpyeong's and the elder's chopsticks targeted the same dumpling. Despite devouring two already, the elder lunged for the last—enraging Jinpyeong, whose chopsticks flashed like lightning.
The elder, sensing it, twisted his wrist to block, but too late—Jinpyeong's tips flicked the dumpling's waist upward.
The elder's face changed: first surprise, then curiosity. His eyes gleamed at Jinpyeong.
"Hoh..."
Jinpyeong chewed innocently, chin raised defiantly under the elder's gaze.
"Turns out you're no slouch."
"A slouch? Try two strands, three even."
"Hmph. No guilt stealing food from an old man with few days left?"
"Didn't our big brother say it? Worried you'll choke from rushing."
"Mind your own business. Even if I die, it'll be stuffed."
The elder reached again—for a well-seasoned, grilled fish slice. Jinpyeong, savoring his dumpling, struck like lightning anew.
This time, the elder countered swiftly. His chopsticks flipped, aiming at Jinpyeong's. As Jinpyeong pressed down harder, the elder's wobbled drunkenly, sliding the assault away.
Srrrrk— The elder's move climbed Jinpyeong's chopsticks. Palm endangered, Jinpyeong twisted away desperately; the elder's pursuit blurred into afterimages, shifting once more.
"....!"
Now Jinpyeong frowned. Ignoring him, the elder popped the whole fish in his mouth, smirking smugly—as if to say, "You? My opponent?"
Then he choked, fishbone stuck. Jingang thrust water; as the elder recovered, Jinpyeong cackled.
"See? Greed nearly sent you off early."
"Cheeky whelp's got blessings. Says this body ascends in days?"
The elder slammed down his chopsticks, lunging with both hands. Jinpyeong parried from his seat. A sudden chopstick duel erupted.
Opposite, Jingang and Jinun forgot their meal, gaping as hands blurred into wind—whooshes, too fast to follow.
Their levels were leagues apart; the brothers couldn't keep up. Strangely, they modulated force to avoid drawing eyes—like prearranged.
Meanwhile, Yi Jinpyeong...
Damn it!
His shock dwarfed his brothers'. Since awakening his reincarnation, no one's profound inner energy had pressed him like ocean waves—from this wrinkled, yellow-toothed, rag-clad old sneak.
He'd raised his level substantially these months—to satisfy his own strict standards. Not peak, but enough for any expert.
Defeat? Impossible—for him, in life-or-death or covert chopstick clashes.
Yet the elder's energy slowly overwhelmed. Sweat trickled down Jinpyeong's back.
As the elder's rough fingers seized his wrist—
"Hold!"
Jinpyeong's urgent cry halted him.
"What?"
"Let's pause."
The elder looked at a madman.
"Pause what? I'm dying to probe your energy."
Hand extending—
"I'll scream."
"...Scream?"
"Yeah. Some pervert old geezer grabbed my wrist. Groped here, there."
Gawking brothers bowed heads. The elder laughed hollowly.
"Think anyone'll buy that?"
"Let's test. Who'll they believe—a pretty young lord or a filthy sneak?"
Speechless, the elder gaped. Jinpyeong pressed shamelessly.
"So talk. You seem incognito; drawing eyes over nothing helps how?"
The elder pondered, then lowered his hand, shaking his head.
"Damn brat. You seem the type to follow through."
"Spot on."
"But I already know who you are."
The old man eyed Jinpyeong, then Jingang and Jinun in turn.
"You're Yi Gajang descendants. Astonishing."
"Indeed. Astonishing."
Jinpyeong replied.
"Could've just asked anyone. But no, you force it out with hands. Still spry at your age?"
"You started the provocation."
"Didn't you invade our table first?"
"Damn it. You need a real beating."
"Try me."
"Forgot almost getting wrist-grabbed?"
"This body gets queasy sitting; can't move well. Stand and do it proper."
The elder bared yellow teeth in a grin.
"Spouting nonsense. Brat, you're no match. You felt it yourself."
"Just a bit more inner power? Life-or-death is different. I'm young, growing every moment—I'll win eventually."
Jinpyeong blustered. But the elder didn't scowl—admired instead.
"...Such ironclad pride. Fitting the world's greatest clan. Answer, brat: Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong—how many stages? Sam-dan-gong? Sa-dan-gong? How many energies now?"
Yi Jinpyeong's face stiffened. So did Jingang's and Jinun's, listening.
This elder knew Yi Gajang arts deeply—not superficially, profoundly.