127. Shijiazhuang (1)
Shijiazhuang (1)
127. Shijiazhuang (1)
Just as Shenyang was the provincial capital of Liaoning, Shijiazhuang was the provincial capital of Hebei. It had originally been called Shijiazhuang because many Shi families lived there, but no martial clan actually existed under the name Shijiazhuang. Unlike Liaoning Province, where the Murong Clan alone wielded powerful influence, or Jilin—which, though a remote border region beyond the wall, was entirely monopolized by the Baek Clan Estate alone—the power landscape of Hebei, a capital province, was a full-blown Warring States period. The Hebei Peng Clan, the Jinju Eon Clan, and even the headquarters of the Beggars' Sect, those outnumbering-everyone bastard beggars, were all crammed into Hebei. How was the Wine Immortal Sect, a sect said to resemble the Yeongsan Sect of the past, managing to get by among all these tigers?
While Master and my Senior Sisters enjoyed their free time in Shijiazhuang, I rode through the mountains on the outskirts, searching for Wine Immortal Sect.
Wine Immortal Sect. Naturally, I had never seen or heard of it. Thinking of the Medicine Immortal and Medical Immortal, was there perhaps a Wine Immortal there too? Wine Immortal Sect lay about four days from central Shijiazhuang, but because I was traveling alone, I could use Flame Blossom Steps freely and reached its vicinity in an instant. As I climbed the mountain alone with Flame Blossom Steps, my first meeting with the Flame Emperor suddenly came to mind. Those women, dragged off to Heavenly Wolf Sect. My teacher and savior, whom I had met in a truly desperate situation. With internal energy barely the size of a chestnut, I had somehow managed to execute Flame Blossom Steps even then.
A great deal had changed since. I could now sustain Flame Blossom Steps for hours on end without even circulating qi if I set my mind to it, and just as the Flame Emperor had once done, I could sense the presence of a wild boar hiding in the forest and, if not quite Qi-Guided Sword, I could simply throw my sword and take it down.
The food in Beijing had consisted entirely of refined cuisine. Even at Do-hwa's house, Lee Eun-ha had served elaborate dishes inspired by the capital's finest restaurants. Every now and then, therefore, I craved something rustic like a whole roast pig. I built a temporary clay oven as Flame Emperor had taught me, and, perhaps because the Dwarf's Soul regarded even that as a structure, it became a magnificent furnace. After draining the blood and cutting the carcass into manageable pieces, I leisurely roasted the boar with Flame Qi rather than Blazing Fire Qi. The meat was fresh, but a faint gamey odor remained—something I could never have stomached in my past life. At times like this, my chink palate, capable of wolfing down almost anything, came in handy. Pepper would have made it perfect, but I had skipped shopping in Beijing and had nothing on hand except salt. Spices were expensive, though not literally worth their weight in gold as pepper had been in Europe; India traded actively with the Central Plains through the Silk Road. Next time, I would remember to bring some.
Oven cooking was magnificent. Without any additional ingredients, it produced a crispy surface without scorching the outside, and not a single drop of juice was lost. I took out the fully roasted meat, admired its glorious appearance, and felt anew the greatness of Flame Blossom Art, which let me handle such scorching-hot meat with my bare hands. When I sprinkled a little salt on it and tasted it, an incredible savory richness swept over my tongue. As expected, as long as you had fresh ingredients, you could enjoy such outstanding cooking without any special skill.
"Kheuheom. That is a truly delicious smell. Handsome young man. If you've got meat to spare, how about sharing some with us beggars?"
Goddammit. A shit-fly had buzzed right into my boundless good mood. Too annoyed even to answer, I jerked my chin toward the remaining boar carcass, and the old beggar set about cutting the meat while the young beggar lit a campfire.
Fuck. They stank and they were disgusting.
"What's that heap of dirt? Is it some sort of meat-roasting apparatus?"
While the young beggar roasted the meat, the old beggar sidled up to me, pretending to be friendly, and pointed at the furnace with his question.
Goddamn beggar bastard. I gave them meat, the least they could do was shut up and eat.
"It's a furnace. Use it if you want. I'll be on my way now."
At the words I tossed out as I got to my feet, the young beggar glared at me. This was exactly why I hated these bastards.
"Do you find us offensive?"
The old beggar spoke courteously, his gaze clear in a way unbecoming a beggar.
"Yeah. You're offensive."
"Hut! No matter that we're beggars, must a person be so cold-hearted?"
"I don't dislike you because you're beggars. For what it's worth, I give quite a bit of charity to ordinary beggars. But you lot—you're the Beggars' Sect."
A glint of interest appeared in the old beggar's eyes.
"Have you had some unpleasant affair with the Beggars' Sect?"
"No. I just don't like you. Everyone has things they just don't like, don't they?"
I stood and started to move my feet again, but the old beggar spoke.
"I'd heard you were a runaway storm stirring up great trouble across the world lately, but I still thought of you as a martial artist who at least respects the orthodox faction, a man who punishes wicked evildoers—more or less. It seems my assessment was wrong. Baek Eun-hyeok."
"Do you really think collecting a bunch of beggars' scraps of intelligence gives you a proper grasp of a single human being? And what does disliking the Beggars' Sect have to do with being an orthodox martial artist? Is there some law that says every orthodox martial artist has to sing the Beggars' Sect's praises?"
Just then, the young beggar who'd been roasting meat, eyes completely rolled back, raised a bamboo staff and stabbed it at me. I'd thought to dodge lightly, but the bamboo staff split into hundreds of thrusts, exactly like Moonlit Divine Sword. Exploiting bamboo's unique flexibility, each thrust bent like a whip and seized control of the space in an instant.
But I was someone who'd sparred against Moonlit Divine Sword for months. When it came to illusory swordsmanship, it was easier for me to handle now than ordinary swordplay. The bamboo staff bore a green-hued qi, but my own sword qi had already reached its pinnacle. Without even needing to draw my sword and trace the Taiji, I simply infused Blazing Fire Qi into my bare hand and seized the bamboo staff, and the countless splitting thrusts all vanished at once. The Moon Immortal had drilled it into me mercilessly. That even when ten thousand swords filled your vision, in the end, only one sword was real. I detonated the qi gathered on the staff and burned it away, and the young beggar froze on the spot.
"You started this, didn't you? A pretty face like yours doesn't suit a beggar, so I'll give you a manly scorching. Take your beating and don't go running to your master, got it?"
I rolled my shoulders and advanced on the young beggar, and as expected, the old beggar blocked my path.
"That's enough. Bok is a girl. Besides, didn't you insult the Beggars' Sect first?"
"Has some new law been passed that if she's a woman, I'm supposed to let it slide even if she throws the first punch? And what insult? I said I don't like the Beggars' Sect, not that the Beggars' Sect is worthless."
The Four Heroes were already prepared. With none of those women around to protect, I had nothing to hold back even if this old beggar turned out to be the Beggars' Sect Leader himself. Seeing me fully prepared for battle, the old beggar laughed in weary disbelief.
"Ha... Good grief. I came all the way out here just to have a quiet talk. Fine. At least tell me the reason—why you bear such hatred toward the Beggars' Sect."
"It's not hatred. I just don't like you."
"Because we're filthy and base, is that it? How laughable. Yeongsan may have grown formidable in recent days, but until just a short while ago, weren't you all poor and powerless yourselves? Does Yeongsan, which took in bandits and courtesans, now look down on beggars as lowly?"
"Of course I do. Doesn't the Beggars' Sect proclaim itself the most base and ragged of all? You've announced that to the world yourselves, so don't twist it into insolence or whatever nonsense."
The old man lost his words. The most base and ragged of all. The only reason beggars could utter such a phrase to the world was the pride beneath it: they had the greatest number of disciples under heaven, were the largest organization in the Martial World, and alone stood beside the Nine Great Sects as the Beggars' Sect.
"That's a matter of mindset. Though we stand alongside the Nine Great Sects, it's a teaching that we must never forget the lowly bearing natural to a beggar."
"That's exactly what I can't stand. Doesn't that teaching mean that without it, the Beggars' Sect would forget its mindset and cease to be beggar-like?"
At last, the old man's expression crumpled.
"Now you're going too far. Fine. The Beggars' Sect are beggars, but they are also men of the martial world. The Beggars' Sect has shed the most blood to save the Central Plains and the martial world. Does it really gall you so much that such a sect harbors pride?"
"Once you've performed a chivalrous deed, do not speak of it. Were those not the words of the first Beggars' Sect Leader? Did the Beggars' Sect shed blood in order to be treated well? Then it was a fine piece of business. In return for that bloodshed, you secured the unshakable status of the Nine Great Sects and the Beggars' Sect, after all."
"Hey. I have a request. Let me hit you just once. Can't we just trade a few friendly punches, just between the two of us, not a war between the Beggars' Sect and Yeongsan?"
Mustering his last dregs of patience, the beggar ground his teeth and spoke to me as if we were close.
"Wow. The Beggars' Sect really is something else. Think about the old man's age and mine. If I went to the Beggars' Sect right now and pummeled a three-year-old baby, we'd only be twenty years apart. Just by looking, there's got to be over forty years between the old man and me—aren't you ashamed?"
"Hey! You son of a bitch! You're the bastard who beat even the leader of the Black Heaven Association!"
The old man finally exploded. I saw his two tightly clenched fists and prepared to draw my sword at once, but the old man's body trembled for a moment, then he quelled his anger and sat down on the ground.
"Sit down. Let's hear, slowly, just what it is you're so dissatisfied about. Bok, you sit here too."
At the old man's words, the young beggar sat beside him, her face taut with tension.
"What are you doing? I said sit."
"Why should I?"
"Listening to your elders is to your benefit. If you don't want to regret it, sit quietly and roast the meat for me. That campfire alone isn't going to cook anything in this cold weather."
"Regret? You're not planning to drag the hundred thousand disciples of the Beggars' Sect to Yeongsan, are you?"
"Do you not fear the Beggars' Sect's hundred thousand disciples?"
"Fear what? If beggars from every corner of the world all gather in Liaoning, how do you plan to feed them?"
The Beggars' Sect's hundred thousand disciples were an absolute force in the martial world, but in truth, there was nothing particularly frightening about them. To mass that many people, you needed an equivalent amount of supply. Whether martial artist or beggar, as long as they were human, they absolutely had to have food to eat. The Beggars' Sect probably outnumbered the entire population of Liaodong—begging would be flat-out impossible, and even if they bought meals with money at inns, there were no restaurants in Liaodong capable of feeding a hundred thousand Beggars' Sect disciples. The Beggars' Sect had always been this kind of sect. Centuries ago, the Demonic Cult at its zenith, which had invaded right up to Beijing's doorstep; in the era of the Four Heroes, the Mongol lamas who stained the Central Plains; or, relatively recently, a century ago, the Blood Cult—powers that threatened to swallow the Central Plains whole were ultimately defeated after suffering tremendous damage at the hands of the Beggars' Sect, scattered across the realm and launching stubborn counterattacks. It wasn't exactly wrong to call the Beggars' Sect the guardian of the Central Plains.
But concentrating that power in one place was more than a mere military operation. The astronomical funding was a problem in itself, but if that many people gathered in one spot, even the Imperial Household, which did not involve itself in the martial world, would be unable to stand idly by. Almost incapable of attack, yet specialized in regional defense—in some ways, the Beggars' Sect resembled the righteous armies of Joseon.
"Hmph. Why would I need to gather a hundred thousand? If you don't sit down right this instant, I'll go find the Yeongsan Sect Leader. I'll inform the Yeongsan Sect Leader very clearly that you tried to burn Bok's face just because she, a girl younger and weaker than you, swung a mere bamboo stick, not even a sword."
"What! Old man! Are you out of your mind? Are we children? An elder of the Beggars' Sect is going to tattle to my master? Our master is barely thirty! She hasn't lived half as long as you. Does the Beggars' Sect have no shame at all?"
"Heh. If I'd cultivated any shame, would I be living as a beggar, begging for my food? Quit your nagging and roast the meat already. That meat you cooked in the furnace looks like it'll be fantastic."
"Roast mine without salt."
The young beggar finally spoke. For all her brazenness in following the old man's lead, her voice, at odds with her appearance, was remarkably beautiful.
"Hey! You! You're Jo Bok, aren't you? The favorite to win the Four Phoenixes Tournament—Jo Bok, right? What? A mere bamboo stick? Old man! If that had hit me, I'd be dead!"
"Bok against you? Don't make me laugh. If that were true, the next era would belong to our Beggars' Sect. More importantly, I said roast the meat. Why? Shall I sing you the beggar's song?"
In this kind of fight, the one who insisted on preserving their pride to the end was at a disadvantage. The old man seemed to have realized this too, because now he simply decided to brazen it out entirely. While I stood hesitating, Jo Bok actually began singing the beggar's song in that clear, lovely voice of hers, and the old man cheerfully joined in. In the end, I had no choice but to give them roast whole-pig barbecue as charity.
"What incredible skill! You're probably the only man under heaven who uses extreme yang qi that way. I don't know where you got the secret manual, but the ancient worthy who left it behind must be turning in his grave with lamentation."
The old man's admiration and mockery upon seeing me roast meat with Flame Qi.
"The cooking method was written in the back of the secret manual. The Flame Emperor, who left behind Flame Blossom Art, was a martial artist more outstanding than anyone, but she was also a fine elder who knew how to find her own meals."
As I took out the roasted meat and spoke to the old man, he looked me up and down and nodded.
"I see. So that was the reason?"
"Yes. That's the reason."
Just as the old man finally understood why I disliked the Beggars' Sect, Jo Bok lost her grip on the hot meat and dropped it onto the dirt. But like the professional beggar she was, she picked it straight back up and ate it, smiling happily. You could at least dust off the dirt a little, you beggar bitch.