The old man, Grandpa Jo, who had scolded Gwaa, turned to Kwak Yeon.
“The Rear Beggar is unharmed. Gwaa merely overdid it a bit—she’s still clumsy when handling Thousand-Day Dream.”
“Grandpa Jo, I didn’t mess it up at all! That beggar can drink enough to knock out ten oxen and still doesn’t flinch. I had no choice but to dump the last flask all at once to finally get him to pass out.”
Kwak Yeon clicked his tongue inwardly at the fact that she had played such a prank knowing full well the man was a Rear Beggar of the Beggars’ Guild—and with Thousand-Day Dream, no less.
Thousand-Day Dream was one of the Three Great Elixirs of the martial world, along with Mountain Bell Toxin and Mist-Cloud Incense.
A child playing with one of the Three Great Elixirs—and on a Rear Beggar of the Beggars’ Guild?
These were no ordinary people.
As Kwak Yeon gazed silently, the old man gave a resigned sigh and spoke.
“I am Jo Cheon-yang, Elder of Hao Clan. As for Gwaa... circumstances prevent me from saying more.”
Kwak Yeon’s expression hardened.
He had just returned from witnessing how the dirty schemes of Hao Clan had cost a young life at the height of its bloom.
Even if he had attained the stage of Hwagyeong, Kwak Yeon was still young—his blood still ran hot. He couldn’t suppress all of the fury that rose in him like an erupting volcano.
“To think an Elder of Hao Clan walks the world in the guise of a blind performer, toying with people as he pleases. Truly remarkable.”
The sharp edge in Kwak Yeon’s voice made Elder Jo Cheon-yang flinch.
“Gwaa’s prank may have gone too far, but her intentions were to help you, Benefactor. And we’ve come here to offer an apology, yet your words are laced with blades.”
“I won’t pretend otherwise.”
Elder Jo Cheon-yang paused with a troubled expression before continuing.
“It seems today is not the best time. I’ll leave you with the antidote for Thousand-Day Dream, and return on a better day.”
Kwak Yeon clenched his teeth.
“Even if you don’t return, we’ll be meeting again soon. But it won’t be a good day for you or your sect.”
Elder Jo Cheon-yang’s face went cold.
Silence fell like a heavy curtain over the room.
Jo Cheon-yang stared hard at Kwak Yeon, then flicked his lips slightly before speaking.
“Well then, Daoist, as you wish. Gwaa, give him the antidote.”
Startled by the suddenly frigid air, Gwaa hesitated a moment, then pulled out a small pouch and handed it over.
“Dissolve this powder in water and pour it into that beggar’s mouth. He’ll wake within the time it takes to burn one stick of incense.”
When Kwak Yeon offered no reply and merely looked at her coldly, Gwaa snorted.
“So, the great Daoist of Wudang doesn’t want anything to do with us lowly rats of Hao Clan? Fine by me! Here—take back the silver ingot you gave me at that tavern in Geyang-hyeon. We don’t need your cheap pity.”
She tossed the five nyang silver ingot on the pouch and turned away.
“Let’s go, Grandpa Jo. Between the stink of fleas and the stench of incense, I can’t take another second in here.”
Kwak Yeon found himself wondering if this was really the same girl who’d once spoken with such heartbreaking sincerity.
“Hmph! Now I understand why people say ‘birds of a feather flock together.’ And now I know I was way out of line trying to act noble in front of those righteous orthodox folk.”
After firing her last volley, Gwaa stormed out of the room.
Elder Jo Cheon-yang looked awkward.
“She’s just a child, Daoist. Please forgive her. And as you know, our Hao Clan and the Beggars’ Guild aren’t exactly warm neighbors—your understanding would be appreciated. Then, we’ll take our leave.”
Even though an elder of a martial sect had offered a bow, Kwak Yeon’s own mood left him unable to return the courtesy.
Only after they left did Kwak Yeon suddenly recall that Hao Clan was considered a “neutral” sect between the orthodox and the demonic.
Among the Three Teachings and Nine Streams (Samgyo Guryu), Hao Clan was part of the Lower Nine—the seedy underbelly of the martial world.
This meant Hao Clan was a mix of all kinds of people—more diverse in membership than any other sect.
Was I being too emotional?
It was possible those two had nothing to do with what had happened earlier.
Still... they’re Hao Clan. And that old man is an Elder. Even if he truly knew nothing of the affair, there’s no need to push or interrogate him in a way that reveals my suspicions. Especially right now...
Kwak Yeon looked at the bedding.
Chwi Dugae was still asleep, scratching furiously at his crotch.
His brows twitched involuntarily.
If he’d been caught by Assistant So Jin-sam, who was notoriously sensitive to lice and bedbugs, there would’ve been hell to pay.
Chwi Dugae kept tilting his head.
“I’ve never blacked out from drinking before...”
He kept sneaking glances at Kwak Yeon, clearly suspecting some trickery.
Kwak Yeon, meanwhile, was marveling at how the man had ingested enough Thousand-Day Dream to down an entire village’s worth of oxen—and was still perfectly functional.
Chwi Dugae let out a frustrated sigh.
“Must be I’ve been weakened... Haven’t had yellow mutt in a while.”
At the mention of hwanggu—yellow mutt—Kwak Yeon scrunched his nose.
Chwi Dugae chuckled at the reaction.
“Daoist, you’ve been eating mountain herbs and roots all your life—you wouldn’t understand. Even Confucius said the best meat is dog, and the best dog is yellow mutt—street mutts, to be exact.”
Kwak Yeon had to suppress the urge to ask what era and country that Confucius supposedly came from—and to throw this man out.
“Still useful, for now.”
“Since you’re down from the mountain anyway, give it a try. I promise you’ll forget all about your monk food. That oil, that chewy texture—firm yet tender, rich yet savory... Mmph! I couldn’t forget it, so I stayed a beggar. Even knelt to my master nine times to learn the art—all for that taste. Damn, what am I doing? I need to go find the sub-branch leader here in Aknyang and tell him to boil up a mutt for me. Perfect for a hangover cure too...”
Kwak Yeon cut him off, unable to listen to this disgusting rant any longer.
“Let’s finish the conversation we started.”
If he left him unchecked, hwanggu would be crowned the greatest restorative food on earth.
“The story we were in the middle of...? Ah, right! I’d asked what scheme Suhmyeon Horui was up to.”
“That matter is already over.”
“You were unconscious, Rear Beggar. I had no choice but to go alone.”
Chwi Dugae’s expression sank in an instant.
“Then the outcome must not have been good.”
“By the time I got there in haste, everything was already over.”
“Damn it. That was a golden chance to expose their scam. You could’ve given me a heads-up, you know. Bah! And yet another innocent life lost.”
“This kind of thing has happened often, hasn’t it.”
“Often? That would be putting it mildly. Their epithet business is thriving.”
The unexpected phrase made Kwak Yeon ask:
“Please explain this thriving epithet business in detail.”
“Why the sudden interest? Just yesterday you acted like the whole affair was beneath you.”
“I was thanked in advance.”
“Thanked in advance...? By whom?”
Kwak Yeon kept his mouth shut. He had to protect Yeong Ho-beom’s secret.
Thanks to the sobering effect of sleep, Chwi Dugae’s mind had returned to peak sharpness. He revised the question.
“For delivering justice.”
That sounded exactly like something a cave-dwelling Daoist would say, so Chwi Dugae dropped the subject.
“Well, if it’s for the sake of helping our guild’s investigation, I won’t refuse. Though the Jeong Family does give me pause—but that’s your concern to manage.”
“My guess is we don’t need to worry about the Jeong Family for now.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I showed them mercy. Fortunately, at least one person within their house seems to have understood that.”
Chwi Dugae’s eyes widened.
He had just figured out who that person in the Jeong Family must be.
Jeong Family Head, Shin Gijangryong.
“Hoo... this guy might be more of a ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) big deal than I thought.”
Chwi Dugae’s interest in Kwak Yeon noticeably deepened.
But interest was interest—what mattered was the task at hand. He began speaking again.
“Truth is, the epithet business isn’t new. It’s just another form of information dealing.”
“Information dealing?”
“Epithet, after all, is something others have to call you. That means you need some special feat to your name. Either you’re from an extraordinary background, like you, and get called Cave Warrior, or your martial skill is so renowned that a nickname naturally forms. Otherwise, most people never earn an epithet at all.”
Kwak Yeon’s expression stiffened.
Chwi Dugae hurriedly added:
“Ahem, my tongue slipped. You’re quite a bit younger than me, so I started thinking of you like a younger brother without realizing it...”
“That’s no issue. If the Rear Beggar of the Beggars’ Guild sees me as a younger brother, I’d be honored.”
“Then why that look on your face...?”
“Because you called me Cave Warrior.”
“Well, it’s not like the whole world knows. Just among the intelligence networks, folks call you that quietly. Still—seems like you don’t like it.”
What could he do, if that’s what others had started calling him?
It wasn’t the nickname itself that stung—it was the world’s contemptuous attitude, labeling the Daoists of Three Spirits Palace as “cave-dwelling mystics.”
“Epithet names always change. And eventually, there won’t be a soul who’d dare say that name to your face.”
After all, who would speak carelessly in front of someone who had cut down the Hidden Dragon Sword Saint?
“Anyway, those desperate for achievements find the right kind of opponent and ask for a lead. Then the information brokers not only find a target—they invent an epithet and spread rumors for good measure. Don’t lump us in with them though. The Beggars’ Guild doesn’t stoop to such filth.”
“So the epithet trade was originally Hao Clan’s business?”
“Exactly. But in recent years, it’s taken a nasty turn. They’re not just selling info on existing heretics anymore—they’re manufacturing them. Taking innocent people and dressing them up as demonic fiends for the market.”
“There’s demand for demonic foes, but not enough supply. So they started fabricating them. Vile bastards who should be torn limb from limb.”
Chwi Dugae, having shouted his fill, suddenly shifted to a quieter tone.
“So then—who’s the victim of this round’s Killing Fiend scam?”
When Kwak Yeon said nothing, holding his silence as if his lips were sewn shut, Chwi Dugae burst in frustration.
“You damn Daoist bastard! I’ve been running my mouth this whole time, and you can’t even throw me that one bone?”