Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Chongqing
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Rumors spread fast. The first day, one spectator. The next day, three.
By the third day, every blacksmith in Chongqing had swarmed to Old Man Feng's forge.
The weirdo was not the type to let an opportunity like this slip by.
He didn't stop at a two-tael entry fee and began aggressively raking in money. Every one of his methods was utterly despicable and ruthless.
"Charging one tael of silver just to sit in a chair? That doesn't make any sense..."
"If you don't like it, stand and watch."
"What's that white line drawn on the floor?"
"If you want to watch from inside that line, you pay two more taels."
"That's ridiculous!"
"Then get out. If you leave now, no refund on the entry fee."
"No, I didn't say I was leaving..."
"You could've watched for free if you'd cleared out of the forge on time. You refused. Isn't that right?"
The blacksmiths were utterly defenseless against the weirdo's sales tactics.
This was overwhelming dominance and utter submission. No matter what nonsense the dominant one spouted, the submissive had to tremble and fork over the cash.
The blacksmiths were filled with the desire to storm out.
But the results Dang Mujin was producing lay beyond the realm of common sense and compromise.
The humiliation was worth enduring, more than worth the money.
Yet as hot-tempered blacksmiths, they couldn't just meekly accept the situation without resistance.
The blacksmiths used Old Man Feng as their mouthpiece for indirect protests.
"Elder Feng, aren't those guys' demands a bit much? I overheard them muttering earlier—they're even talking about recruiting assistants. Bet they'll charge us just to hold the tongs."
"Nah, no way they'd do that. Make us work and charge for it..."
Old Man Feng gave a vague response, and the frustrated blacksmiths vented again.
"You know as well as we do, Elder. That's exactly the kind of thing they'd say without hesitation. The guy's possessed by money demons."
"I can't tell them what to do. They're the ones working and taking the money—can't just butt in like that."
"..."
"Look on the bright side since it's come to this. Opportunities like this don't come often. You're young; invest a few taels now to broaden your horizons, and it'll benefit you for life."
"Yeah, sure, but... Sigh. Fine."
Contrary to what the blacksmiths thought, Old Man Feng deftly smoothed over their complaints and advocated for the weirdo's side.
The reason Old Man Feng sided with the weirdo was simple. A cut of the revenue was flowing straight into his pocket.
Without even hammering a single piece of iron, Old Man Feng was breaking his all-time revenue records day after day since reopening the forge.
After finishing the third day's work and heading back to their lodgings, the weirdo asked Dang Mujin,
"How many more days do you think it'll take?"
"Seven days and nights should wrap it up. I could put in more effort, but with the materials and equipment we have, it wouldn't make much difference."
Three days had already passed, so seven more would make ten in total.
The previous job had ended so quickly that ten days felt like quite a long time.
However, swordsmiths often spent two or three months on a single piece when focusing intently. Ten days for a masterwork sword was short, not long.
That said, the weirdo knew full well there was fat to trim from those ten days.
"Better without decorations. Pauldron and hilt just need to be smoothly finished in paulownia or jujube wood."
"Then four or five days should do it."
"Four or five days."
The weirdo crossed his arms and fiddled with his beard.
"I'm planning to leave Chongqing for a few days to handle some business. Have it done by the time I get back."
"What's the errand?"
"Something's been nagging at me no matter how I think about it. You don't need the details."
"Will it take long?"
"Five days if short, ten if long."
"Got it. I'll make myself a sword with the extra time."
"Do what you want."
The two returned to the New Moon Inn, gorged on free booze and food, and turned in.
*
A bit earlier in time, while Dang Mujin and the weirdo were raking in cash at the forge.
Hong Geolgae was walking through Chongqing's back alleys. Searching for a place where he might run into Beggars' Sect disciples.
On especially good days, Ma Jeon-gae would tell Hong Geolgae stories from his Chongqing days. Mostly trivial stuff.
Loafing around the hemp fields, idle chatter among the beggars under the bridge.
A bit of bravado about his glory days as a young man.
Stories dusted with the patina of time, overlaid again with nostalgic haze.
'In the end, he never told me the one story I wanted most.'
What Hong Geolgae had been most curious about was why Ma Jeon-gae had left a major city like Chongqing to settle in Zhuul Village.
But Ma Jeon-gae had died without ever sharing that tale.
Oh well, no matter. He'd come to Chongqing himself now; he just needed to find someone who knew his master.
Hong Geolgae's footsteps led him under a bridge at the upper reaches of the Yangtze.
There were beggars there in numbers Zhuul Village could never match. The bigger and more prosperous the city, the more broken and fallen people it held.
As Hong Geolgae approached the beggars, they eyed him warily.
Some shrank back upon spotting the three-knotted cord at his waist.
Hong Geolgae asked the beggars,
"Who's the boss of the beggars under this bridge?"
The beggars didn't answer and began backing away. Hong Geolgae grabbed the shoulder of the most able-bodied-looking man among them. The beggar let out a pained groan.
"Ow, what's this about, sir? I'm just a regular beggar. Not the boss or anything."
"I know. I grabbed you because no one's answering. Who's got the highest rank here?"
"Huh? There are no ranks here."
Hong Geolgae frowned slightly and asked again.
"Come on, there has to be. They say wherever three or more Beggars' Sect disciples gather, there's always one with the highest rank."
"Huh? We're not Beggars' Sect disciples."
Hong Geolgae's eyebrow twitched. Beggars who weren't Beggars' Sect? Was that even possible?
But the beggar's words didn't sound like lies.
"Then where are the Beggars' Sect beggars?"
"There are no such thing."
"Don't hide it—tell me. Chongqing can't be without Beggars' Sect disciples."
"No, there are Beggars' Sect disciples. Just no beggar Beggars' Sect disciples."
Hong Geolgae couldn't grasp the meaning of the answer. There were Beggars' Sect disciples, but no beggar ones?
Weren't Beggars' Sect disciples beggars, and beggars Beggars' Sect disciples?
"What does that mean?"
Seeing Hong Geolgae's utter confusion, the beggar man finally caught on.
"Oh, are you from out of Chongqing?"
"Yes."
The beggar man sighed in relief.
"Phew, thought it was something serious. Folks from other cities' Sect branches sometimes ask the same way. But Chongqing's beggars aren't Beggars' Sect disciples."
Beggars, but not Beggars' Sect?
Hong Geolgae looked around at the surrounding beggars. Not a single one had a knotted cord at their waist. He grew bewildered.
"Could you explain in more detail?"
"If you want to meet Beggars' Sect disciples, don't go under the bridge—head that way."
The man's finger pointed to a row of wine houses lining the Yangtze riverbank. All gaudily decorated taverns.
"So the Beggars' Sect disciples have taken over that tavern alley and are blocking the other beggars from begging?"
"Not quite... Better to see for yourself. I'm no good with words—can't explain it well."
Hong Geolgae gave a light fist-and-palm salute to the beggar and headed straight for the tavern alley.
His mind was a whirl. How could Beggars' Sect disciples block other beggars from begging?
Weren't Beggars' Sect disciples supposed to protect beggars?
Hong Geolgae arrived at the tavern alley before evening.
No staggering drunks, just merchants bustling about preparing for business.
Hong Geolgae looked around. Not a single beggar in the tavern alley.
'Figures, it's right on the main street.'
Beggars stuck to dark corners.
Hong Geolgae rummaged through the alleys between buildings and back lots. Places beggars might hole up.
But no beggars there either. Not one.
'What the hell?'
Hong Geolgae scoured the alleys between buildings, the backs, the trash piles. Yet even as evening approached, he found no beggars.
As he debated heading back under the bridge to ask again, two burly men stopped him.
"Hey, you beggar bastard. What've you been rummaging around for since earlier?"
"Oh, sorry."
"Sorry my ass—we're asking why you're snooping. We've warned you beggar scum day in, day out not to come into the tavern alley. You gonna take responsibility if you ruin business?"
"Ah, I'm not from Chongqing, so I didn't know."
Hong Geolgae gave an awkward smile and straightened up. Only then did the men notice the three-knotted cord at his waist.
Their faces paled, and their attitudes flipped in an instant.
"Could you be... a Beggars' Sect disciple?"
"That's right."
"We didn't recognize you and were rude. Forgive us."
Their unexpected reaction left Hong Geolgae even more flustered.
These were the first people to grovel before him in his life.
"No need to call it rudeness. It's fine."
Color returned to the men's faces. They launched into exaggerated flattery.
"Whew, such magnanimity. Great hero, what brings you to Chongqing? Looking for a fine tavern—"
"No, I'm searching for Chongqing's Beggars' Sect disciples."
"Ah! We can help with that right away. Our Dengxian Tower's Tower Master happens to be a Beggars' Sect disciple."
The man said this while pointing to the building right next door. A three-story tavern, no less.
Hong Geolgae frowned, wondering if he'd misheard.
"The Tower Master is a Beggars' Sect disciple?"
"Yes. Not a Three-Knot Elder like you, great hero, but he tied his second knot just last year. Shall we escort you?"
The two men failed to read which part Hong Geolgae found odd and answered politely.
After a moment's thought, Hong Geolgae nodded.
"Yes. Please do."
Hong Geolgae followed the two men into Dengxian Tower.
The interior was lavish. Nothing like Zhuul Village's village head's house could compare.
Before long, they reached the third floor of the tavern. In one corner, a portly man sat gazing out the window.
Mid-thirties, perhaps.
A bit overweight, cherishing a sparse goatee, dressed in immaculate round-collar robes.
And at his waist hung a knotted cord.
Not tied tightly like ordinary beggars, but adorned with tassels like a decorative accessory.
Sensing their presence, the Dengxian Tower Master turned. He frowned immediately.
"What is it? Why'd you bring a beggar in here?"
"He's no ordinary beggar, Tower Master."
The two men who'd escorted Hong Geolgae gestured toward his waist.
The Tower Master spotted the three knots and shifted his attitude.
"Ahh, a Beggars' Sect disciple from out of town. Impressive to be a branch leader at such a young age. What brings you here?"
Not quite deferential, but not treating him like a subordinate either. Hong Geolgae felt relieved as he asked,
"Mind if I ask a few questions?"
"Of course. You two, leave us."
The Dengxian Tower Master dismissed the two who'd brought Hong Geolgae.
Now only Hong Geolgae and the Tower Master remained on the third floor.
After much deliberation, Hong Geolgae posed his first question.
"What on earth happened in Chongqing to make Beggars' Sect disciples not beggars, and beggars not Beggars' Sect disciples?"