Taoist Hyeongong drove the point home so the Beggar Clan beggar couldn’t make any more noise, then spoke with a satisfied look.
“Beggar hero, we’ve ended up trading blows because there was no helping it, but this too is a thread of fate. Wouldn’t it be better to know who you are? There won’t be a chance for that later, you see.”
It meant: you’ll be chased off and run away soon, so state your status before that happens.
Hu Gae smiled faintly.
“Mule-headed Taoist, you don’t need to worry about that. There’ll be plenty of time for introductions.”
Taoist Hyeongong found it strange—why was this Beggar Clan beggar so confident?
He could guess the man had some skill and that was why he was so bold, but he couldn’t help being curious about his identity.
From the moment the Beggar Clan beggar appeared, Taoist Hyeongong had been watching him closely, trying to figure out his background.
In the Beggar Clan, the proof of status was shown by the knot tied at the waist, so he examined him in detail—but the beggar had his outer robe tightly wrapped, so there was no way to see the knot.
He can’t be that high-ranked within the Beggar Clan.
Beggar Clan beggars liked to display their knots and use the prestige of the world’s greatest clan to force the other side to submit.
I’ll show this arrogant Beggar Clan bastard what the Wudang Sect is really like.
“In any case, seeing how confident you are, you must have some remarkable, profound arts. So I will have my disciples face you together in a combined attack.”
“Damn it, why do you talk so much? I already gave you permission to do that.”
Provoked by Hu Gae’s unrestrained taunting, Taoist Hyeongong’s anger surged, and he barked at the second-generation disciples in a cold voice.
“Disciples, listen. We cannot ignore our friendship with the Beggar Clan, so face the Beggar hero with your swords still in their scabbards.”
The Wudang Sect’s second-generation disciples all raised their swords with the blades still sheathed.
“WUDANG STANDS FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS! MIGHT SHAKES THE WORLD!”
The shout—Wudang’s sect-cry—rang out in unison, booming through the dining hall.
Hearing that roar about shaking the world with Wudang’s righteousness, Kwak Yeon couldn’t help but feel wretched.
They had done something shameful, and yet they were talking about raising righteousness. Wasn’t that the height of brazen hypocrisy?
His face burning, Kwak Yeon regretted not stepping in to settle things himself instead of leaving it to Hu Gae.
But it was already too late.
Already furious, the second-generation disciples charged at Hu Gae the instant Taoist Hyeongong’s command fell.
—WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
Eight second-generation disciples, using astonishing lightness arts, surrounded Hu Gae in an instant and closed in.
It was a precise combined strike—so tight that, hidden beneath the shadows of the Wudang disciples, Hu Gae’s body couldn’t be seen at all.
As befit the frontline disciples of a famous great sect, their swordwork was fierce and sharp—its cutting force alone was enough to raise gooseflesh.
—BANG! BANG! BANG! BAAAAANG!
But their opponent was Hu Gae of the Beggar Clan.
“Not bad!”
Letting out an admiring cry, Hu Gae swung the Tagu Staff sideways and spun his body in a circle.
Dragon-Riding Heaven-Winding!
It was the Beggar Clan’s Peak-level lightness art said to wind the heavens into a vortex as a dragon ascended.
As Hu Gae’s body spun rapidly, it looked as though dozens of Tagu Staffs had appeared.
Seeing the Beggar Clan beggar not dodge the combined strike but meet it head-on, Taoist Hyeongong cheered inwardly.
Got him!
All eight second-generation disciples were first-rate masters in the Manifested Aura Realm, and three of them were on the verge of Peak.
They couldn’t manifest sword aura because their blades were still sheathed, but they were pouring their full internal power into their swords without loss.
He’s a fool to collide head-on!
Judging by how much he trusted his own skill, this Beggar Clan bastard could probably bat aside two—maybe three—of the disciples’ swords.
But it was obvious he wouldn’t endure more than that.
If he didn’t let go of that club, it would shatter into pieces.
—KRAAAK! BANG! BANG! BANG!
At last the thundercrack sounds erupted without pause.
He’d been certain the Beggar Clan beggar’s club would break and scatter in all directions—but the ones who bounced backward, as if flung off, were Wudang’s second-generation disciples.
“Hrk!”
In an instant, Taoist Hyeongong’s chest turned cold.
To endure while facing all eight disciples’ swordwork at once, you needed more than twice their internal power.
It was the same principle as how hard it was to snap bundled firewood.
Taoist Hyeongong realized he had judged this Beggar Clan beggar far too lightly.
Damn it. The Dark Cavern Taoist bastard had something to rely on—that’s why he pushed this Beggar Clan bastard onto us.
That was why he’d talked about crooked nails and all that.
In that moment, Taoist Hyeongong realized he’d been dragged into the Beggar Clan beggar’s goading trap.
It wasn’t that he’d pinned the beggar down so he couldn’t avoid a martial contest—he’d bound his own side’s ankles instead.
Ah. Then the second-generation disciples...!
The outcome was as clear as fire.
A combined attack with many pressuring one was indeed powerful, but if the combination failed even once, it was hard to regroup.
Meaning: from that moment on, it was no different from individual bouts—and the numerical advantage vanished.
And sure enough. After scattering the second-generation disciples like leaves in a single exchange, the Beggar Clan beggar’s real attack began.
No—it was the beginning of a one-sided beating.
“KIIYAHH!”
With a bizarre scream that was hard to tell as either a battle shout or a cheer, the Beggar Clan beggar swung his club.
—WHIIIIIING!
Every swing was a simple, straight-line strike.
Even a regular person who knew nothing about martial arts would probably have more variation in the way he swung a club than this beggar’s exchange-path.
So Wudang’s second-generation disciples could block the beggar’s club even with their eyes closed.
—BAAANG!
The problem was what came after they knocked his strike aside with their swords.
—SHWAAANG!
The gale-force wind the club raised whipped around and slammed into their bodies—it felt like being struck with an iron cudgel.
—CRACK! THUD!
“Kgh!”
The pain was so intense they couldn’t help screaming.
A searing agony like it was shredding muscles to ribbons and plucking the bones clean!
The second-generation disciples who traded a single blow with Hu Gae all began to tremble with fear.
Because they could feel it—Hu Gae was deliberately holding back strength on the Tagu Staff.
If the Beggar Clan beggar had put just a little more force into it—if he hadn’t stopped the club the moment it struck—they would have lost their grip on their swords or been crushed down.
His intent was crystal clear: he struck only as much as he wouldn’t do that, then yanked the club away.
If it wasn’t a scheme to inflict the maximum pain on them, then what was it?
A beating disguised as a martial contest!
This was what the Dark Cavern Taoist of Samryeong Palace had meant when he said to straighten the crooked nails—and the Beggar Clan beggar had answered in kind.
From the instant they understood that, the martial contest became hell for Wudang’s second-generation disciples.
Under their elder’s command, they had stepped forward staking Wudang’s honor—so even if it meant death, they couldn’t throw down their swords and surrender on their own.
So they had no choice but to swallow the pain and face the Beggar Clan beggar’s Tagu Staff.
—WHIIIIIING!
Swinging their swords at the Tagu Staff flying in for the second time, every one of Wudang’s second-generation disciples wished—if only this beggar would please finish them off with this next attack.
—BANG!
—CRACK! THUUD!
“Khuuugh!”
Just as before, the gale surged, and they couldn’t hold back their screams under the fierce pain like flesh was being carved and bones were being pulled out.
—BAAANG!
—CRACK!
From the moment they were struck the third time, they reached the point of wishing the Beggar Clan beggar would just beat them to death in one blow.
But the Beggar Clan beggar rampaged back and forth in every direction, beating the second-generation disciples evenly—yet never giving anyone a lethal strike.
So to the spectators watching inside the dining hall, it looked like Wudang’s second-generation disciples were fighting the Beggar Clan beggar in an even match.
Of course—excluding Kwak Yeon and Jin Cheongha, who knew Hu Gae’s realm.
Watching Hu Gae smash people and frolic in high spirits, Jin Cheongha was dumbfounded.
It didn’t seem like he was beating Wudang’s disciples simply because he was angry at their vile behavior.
Even if he met a thousand-year nemesis, would he torment them like that?
Jin Cheongha’s startled look at Hu Gae was, in fact, right on the mark.
Because Hu Gae wasn’t excited only because he was teaching Wudang’s second-generation disciples a lesson.
Ever since Zhejiang Province, he’d served as Kwak Yeon’s sparring partner every day, and his martial arts had improved by leaps and bounds—yet he hadn’t had a proper chance to unleash them.
But now he’d found very suitable opponents: Wudang Sect disciples.
So he was truly delighted, freely showing off the martial skill he’d gained.
Still, everything that begins must end. The Wudang second-generation disciples who had held on through his third beating started to collapse from the fourth attack onward.
—SHWAAANG!
—BANG!
“KWEEEK!”
One second-generation disciple, unable to endure the pain of that gale any longer, toppled backward with a squeal like a pig being slaughtered.
Once one man fell, Wudang’s second-generation disciples crumpled one after another as if they’d been waiting for it.
—BANG!
“Kkugh!”
Hu Gae knew their toughness would let them endure two more rounds or so, but he let them fall anyway.
They’d suffered the bone-plucking pain four times—he figured that was enough for them to learn what the world was afraid of.
—WHIT!
Now Hu Gae launched his body toward the last remaining second-generation disciple.
It was the disciple called Cheongsu—Seokgeon—who had shown the most blatant hostility toward his sworn younger brother, Kwak Yeon.
Hu Gae had heard Kwak Yeon say he would cherish Cheongsu all the more—so Hu Gae intended to “cherish” Cheongsu in a special way as well, which was why he’d deliberately left him for last.
“Cheongsu, you Taoist bastard with not even a speck of manners! I’ll split your skull and make an example of today’s lesson!”
When the Beggar Clan beggar brought his club down at him with a thunderous roar, Cheongsu—Seokgeon—went rigid from head to toe.
He’d already been struck twice by the Beggar Clan beggar’s Tagu Staff, and he was in no condition to move properly.
And with the senior brothers chosen into this expedition from each palace all stretched out on the ground, what could he do alone?
Sensing that this was the end, countless thoughts flashed through Cheongsu’s mind like lightning and passed on.
The last thought that didn’t fade was the question of why he’d ended up like this.
Wudang disciples were treated as the world’s honored ones. Since descending the mountain, every martial artist they met on the road had bowed their heads to them.
So he’d acted without restraint, thinking there was nothing to worry about unless it was some great demonic head.
But this Beggar Clan beggar spat curses and even ignored their elder master.
He had never imagined there could be anyone of the righteous path in the rivers and lakes who didn’t acknowledge Wudang even as much as dirt under a fingernail.
And he’d never, ever imagined he would die with his skull split open by a righteous-path man.
—WHIIIIIING!
With a flesh-ripping gale, a massive club surged in and blotted out the whole world—and in that instant, Cheongsu pissed himself.
—TAP!
The Beggar Clan beggar’s club touched his forehead and stopped dead. Then the beggar’s voice came.
“Ugh. What’s that piss stink?”
Only then did Cheongsu realize that the hot stream running down his pant leg had soaked the floor.
