Self-Introduction (1)
The old man's eyes gleamed. His voice carried a hint of excitement, spittle flying as he continued.
"You must be the sons of Yi Do, the previous family head. From what I know, not only Yi Do, but none among Yi Gyeol's descendants ever properly surpassed the Yi-dan-gong stage of Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong. Yet the inner energy I sense from you has at least reached the Sam-dan-gong of Hapcheon. Truly astonishing. To think you'd reached a level where you could exchange blows with me at your age..."
Yi Do. Gwi Hwa Yeon Cheon Gong. Yi-dan-gong, Sam-dan-gong...
Yi Jinpyeong mulled over the old man's words before asking quietly.
"You seem to know quite a bit about our family's martial arts."
"How could I not? Over the years, we've been—"
The old man, mid-sentence, caught the burning intensity in Yi Jinpyeong's gaze and faltered.
Yi Jinpyeong pressed again. "We've been what all this time?"
The old man's expression grew complicated. He stared at Yi Jinpyeong with subtle eyes, then slowly rose from his seat—as if he meant to vanish just like when he'd first appeared.
"I've said too much. I got a bit carried away. So—"
"Where do you think you're going?"
The old man's motion to disappear halted. He glanced down at his ankle. Yi Jinpyeong's pipe had somehow hooked around it.
The old man let out a hollow chuckle. "You think you can stop me?"
"Guess we'll find out. But I can promise you won't be leaving nicely."
"I humored you for a bit, and now you show no respect."
"I decide who gets respect and how. You spout off about our family like you own the knowledge, then just walk away? You think I'd let you saunter off?"
A faint anger laced the old man's tone, while Yi Jinpyeong's reply was chillingly cold.
His brothers watched them anxiously, eyes darting between the two. The mood had been friendly enough over the meal—how had things spiraled like this?
The pair glared at each other in tense standoff for a long moment. Then, oddly, the old man backed down first.
"Looks like there's a misunderstanding. I'm not trying to hide anything. And aren't you descendants of the family that once dominated the world? You don't think Yi Gajang's martial arts are some closely guarded secret, do you?"
"Best not to dodge the question. I want to hear exactly what you were about to say. If not, let's have some fun right here. I ate well, so my belly's full and my body's itching for a real scrap."
Yi Jinpyeong's voice had calmed, but he clearly had no intention of letting the old man go.
The old man sighed softly. "Kid. I'll promise you we'll talk again soon. But not now, not here."
"How do I trust you?"
"Do I look like the type to spout empty words?"
"Not particularly trustworthy-looking."
"......"
"But if it's your faction... I might believe you."
The old man's white eyebrows shot up, his black eyes sparkling. Arms crossed, he asked Yi Jinpyeong, "How do you know my faction?"
"Did you think you were the only one who could guess our identities?"
Yi Jinpyeong smirked and continued. "They're everywhere, in the lowliest places, yet no one dares look down on them."
His stunned brothers cried out in unison.
"Gangbang?!"
Their suppressed shout drew enough attention. Those fixated on the central seats where the Nine Great Beggars sat now glanced back curiously.
In this event hall full of finely dressed attendees, a ragged old beggar standing alone was certainly out of place.
But the brothers had no time for the surroundings. The old man who'd shared a meal with them was a true beggar among beggars—no, a Gangbang master? Why was someone like that hiding in this corner instead of the central seats?
"Jinpyeong. Is this elder really from Gangbang? But he has no knots or pouches..."
"Clothes and props aren't the surest proof. The way he blocked me with those chopsticks earlier used the essence of Gangbang's unique art, Takpal Seon-gwon. He substituted chopsticks and fingers for hands and feet. And his palm movements resembled Baekgyeol Sinjang, passed down only to Gangbang Bangju through generations—though heavily modified."
The old man fell silent. His wrinkled face was hard to read. He simply stared down at Yi Jinpyeong with flashing black eyes.
"Judging by the depth and distribution of your arts, you're at least Bangju or former Bangju. Am I wrong, elder?"
His brothers' jaws dropped. More eyes flicked toward their table.
Puhahaha.
The old man burst into sudden laughter. "Now this is a hit I didn't see coming. You pegged Gangbang, sure. But nailing the exact techniques at your age? Is that even possible? For anyone?"
"Nothing's impossible for this body."
"Damn brat. Insufferably arrogant and presumptuous."
Yet a strange delight colored the old man's tone.
"But you overestimate me. This body never came close to such a title my whole life. Do I look like the type for that heavy a seat?"
Yi Jinpyeong furrowed his brow. He'd been certain anyone from Gangbang exuding this pressure had to be Bangju-level. It stung his pride that he couldn't easily see a path to victory otherwise.
Meanwhile, a loud cry erupted from the dais where the Nine Great Beggars sat.
"Ah!"
A middle-aged man shot to his feet, pale-faced. Seated among Gangbang's honored guests, he dressed far more plainly, with a rope of seven knots at his waist.
Whoosh—he vaulted over the crowd and landed before the old man in a prostrate bow, locked in their subtle standoff with Yi Jinpyeong.
"Master!!!!"
His shout echoed through the entire venue.
Stunned murmurs rippled from all sides.
"Did you hear? He called him 'Master.'"
"If it's Gangbang Elder Bang Cheonpyo calling someone master... No Gae?"
"No way that No Gae showed up here? At Dongjeong Lake?"
The shock was indescribable. Yi Jingang and Yi Jinun shared it, along with the rest of Yi Gajang's brothers.
No Gae. Real name No Gak, but in his youth, his inability to hold his temper led to the moniker "Angry Beggar"—No Gae.
Known widely as a quirky figure with the skills and status to be Gangbang Bangju, he'd refused the clan's leadership staff, claiming he lacked the talent and character, and wandered the world alone.
Though major elders and protectors from various sects attended this Murim Conference, no sect leaders had come. For No Gae—a figure as prestigious as Bangju, yet even more enigmatic—to reappear after years was monumental.
No Gae chuckled dryly, hands behind his back, while Gangbang Elder Bang Cheonpyo wept openly before him. For a man of his stature to prostrate and sob before hundreds, heedless of face, was a rare sight.
"Master! How many years has it been? How did you age so much?!"
"You worthless cur. Who's aged? Seeing a fresh-faced punk like you strutting as an elder twists my guts from afar."
"Truth be told, sitting in a role that doesn't suit me has kept my mind uneasy. But hearing your double curses after so long clears the blockage. I searched endlessly, but you never showed. How did you end up here at Dongjeong Lake?"
"Why chase a dying old man? I was just wandering with the wind, dropped by to sneak a peek at my disciple's face. Now that I have, time to go."
"Absolutely not. Who knows when we'd meet again? At least a week—no, a month of rolling around together, tearing into dog meat!"
"Dog... dog meat? Ahem..."
No Gae swallowed hard. Bang Cheonpyo glanced back. The momentarily flustered Dongbeonhoe leader quickly rolled his eyes, made a circle with his fingers, and signaled servants who dashed off with fervor.
Dongbeonhoe leader wouldn't miss a chance to elevate his event with such a heavyweight; stray dogs around Dongjeong Lake were doomed for a while.
"And these folks? Traveling with you, Master?"
Gangbang Elder Bang Cheonpyo pointed at the awkwardly standing Yi Gajang brothers beside No Gae.
"Not traveling, but friends made here. The Yi Gajang brothers."
"Ho. Yi Gajang of Dongjeong Lake... you don't mean..."
"That's right. That Yi Gajang. Direct descendants of the world's greatest, Yi Gyeol."
Bang Cheonpyo snapped his head up to appraise the trio. Hundreds of eyes followed—from Nine Great Beggars elders and protectors, juniors and warriors, Dongbeonhoe key figures led by their leader, heads and fighters of Dongjeong Lake factions.
Yi Jingang clamped his mouth shut. Yi Jinun flushed. Yi Jinpyeong scowled, displeased.
After scrutinizing them, Bang Cheonpyo let out an admiring "Hoo."
"We knew Yi Gajang was in dire straits and haven't paid much attention lately. But seeing you three today, you've all grown splendidly. Rumors of 'White Bone Heroes' must be nonsense."
"Indeed. I met them myself today and inspected closely—they're truly excellent. No empty words. Without utmost vigilance, the center of the jianghu might shift back to Yi Gajang. Uhahatahaha!"
The crowd's gazes shifted ominously. Most here were martial artists—swordsmen. When the famously irascible No Gae, of legendary repute, clapped their shoulders and praised them effusively, curiosity, envy, enmity, and competitive fire boiled over.
And it didn't end there. No Gae even shoved Yi Jinpyeong forward by the back.
"Come on, as Yi Gajang's representative, give us a self-introduction, youngest!"
Scores of eyes poured in. Yi Jinpyeong smiled wryly.
No Gae grinned, whispering via transmission only Yi Jinpyeong could hear.
[Why the sour face? Weren't you itching for some fun? Isn't this what you wanted?]
'...Damn old coot.'
He'd grabbed the old man to continue talk of Yi Gajang—not to draw this spotlight. Still, preventing his sudden departure was a win.
'...Doesn't matter.'
Destined for the world's gaze someday, what did it matter if it came sooner?
[Keep that promise from earlier.]
No Gae nodded.
And so Yi Jinpyeong leaped onto the banquet table, planting a foot amid the dishes.
'Self-introduction, huh...'
Only one phrase came to mind.
Hands on hips, chin raised arrogantly, he overlooked the masses and bellowed.
"Come at me all together! Let's throw down!"
His thunderous voice spread through the venue.
Far and wide. Very wide.