“YOU BEGGAR BASTARD! DIE!”
Murderous intent filled the Songmun Sword as Taoist Hyeongong shot in toward Hu Gae’s back.
—SHWAAANG!
The moment Hu Gae knocked down the second-generation disciples and was about to split open the skull of his own disciple, Cheongsu, Taoist Hyeongong launched himself.
But he knew he was a step late, so to demand responsibility for his disciple’s death, he unfolded a killing sword.
By some stroke of luck, the Beggar Clan beggar stopped the Tagu Staff, but it was already too late to withdraw the killing sword he’d unleashed.
Taoist Hyeongong’s Songmun Sword was already in contact with Hu Gae’s back.
—SHRAK!
Hu Gae wrapped Cheongsu in his arms and rolled across the floor.
—CRASH-THUD-THUD!
—SHHK!
The Songmun Sword sheared off a thick chunk of Hu Gae’s outer robe as it passed.
If Hu Gae hadn’t used Lazy Donkey Rolls, neither he nor Cheongsu would have escaped the Songmun Sword’s path.
“You worm-infested mule-headed Taoist! I knew you’d do this.”
—KRAAASH!
Hu Gae shoved Cheongsu into a corner of the dining hall, then sprang to his feet.
“Is this Wudang’s ‘standing for righteousness’—putting your disciples out front while you wait for an opening?”
At Hu Gae’s shout, Taoist Hyeongong’s face flushed red.
In the situation as it stood, it was exactly as if he’d aimed for the Beggar Clan beggar’s back and struck with a killer move—there was no room for any excuse.
“Either way, mule-headed Taoist, you drew your sword. So as a beggar, I can’t not answer you.”
—FLAP!
When Hu Gae tore off his shredded, dangling outer robe, the knot at his waist was revealed clearly.
The instant Taoist Hyeongong saw eight knots, his eyes went round as bowls.
“H-Hu Gae...!”
Hu Gae smiled faintly.
“What? You regret throwing a killing sword because I’m Hu Gae? Too bad—once a sword is drawn, you can’t take it back.”
Seeing the thick smile curl at Hu Gae’s mouth, Taoist Hyeongong realized he’d stepped into a trap.
If he’d known this Beggar Clan beggar was Hu Gae before drawing his sword, he would have made any excuse at all to avoid the match.
In the rivers and lakes, recognizing your opponent and withdrawing afterward was customary—it wasn’t shameful. No, it was even praised as the courage to lower yourself.
But once you drew your sword at someone, you could not retreat.
Once a sword is drawn, you can’t take it back.
There was one way to avoid the disaster that rule brought.
The courtesy of breaking the sword.
In other words, you broke your own sword to soothe the other party’s anger.
But as a disciple of a renowned great sect, snapping the sword bestowed by your master was something that could never happen.
“Now, Taoist, don’t be that scared. Considering you’re an elder who leads disciples, this Hu Gae will answer you with only a single move of the Smoke-Draw Eighteen Strikes.”
The Smoke-Draw Eighteen Strikes was the most infamous method among the Beggar Clan’s Tagu Staff arts.
It was called a single move, but it consisted of eighteen consecutive strikes—and once it began, it didn’t end until all motions were completed.
Meaning: he was declaring he would beat him like a dog.
—SHOOOONG!
Seeing Hu Gae whip the Tagu Staff through the air with ferocity, Taoist Hyeongong hurriedly turned his gaze to Kwak Yeon.
No matter how much he hated him, Kwak Yeon was still a fellow disciple—would he really stand by and watch an elder be humiliated in front of disciples and a crowd?
But what Taoist Hyeongong met was Kwak Yeon’s icy stare.
And that stare questioned him in return.
Back then, you didn’t consider Steward Jang’s desperate plea to spare him from everyone’s eyes either.
All at once, Taoist Hyeongong realized this entire thing had been the Dark Cavern Taoist’s intent.
Because I’m his senior brother in name, that Dark Cavern Taoist bastard is borrowing the Beggar Clan’s Hu Gae as a club in his stead.
GRIT!
Taoist Hyeongong glared at Kwak Yeon, grinding his teeth, and clamped his mouth shut.
How impressive can Tagu Staff arts really be? Besides, this beggar said it himself—he’ll use only one move.
Convinced there was no way he couldn’t block it with the depth of Wudang martial arts he’d learned, Taoist Hyeongong leveled the Songmun Sword at Hu Gae.
But the moment it collided with the Tagu Staff, that confidence shattered into pieces.
—SHWAAANG!
—KRAAANG!
Not only did it feel as though his grip on the sword was tearing apart, but his wrist up through his shoulder throbbed numbly.
Then the gale-force wind that followed the Tagu Staff slammed in—pressing flesh and muscle until it even choked off the flow of qi and blood.
Kgh...!
It was only temporary, and he could immediately circulate his internal power, ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) but he still took a shock that made his stomach flip.
Yet that first strike was only the prologue.
Without even the breadth of a moment, the second Tagu Staff came crashing in.
—KWAANG!
Before he could even finish the Cloud-Flow Sword Art’s Single Dragon Parts the Clouds that had barely blocked that second strike, the third strike flew in right after.
—SHWAAANG!
—TZING!
The Tagu Staff skimmed past the Songmun Sword’s edge and clipped Taoist Hyeongong’s left shoulder.
Kkheup!
The pain was razor-sharp, like a chunk of flesh had been ripped clean away.
After tasting that first bit of “flesh,” the Tagu Staff grew even faster and more relentless, striking all over Taoist Hyeongong’s body.
—THUD! THUD! THUUD!
Because Hu Gae’s Tagu Staff avoided the vital points, Taoist Hyeongong couldn’t even collapse.
—WHIT! WHIT! WHIIIT!
Taoist Hyeongong swung the Songmun Sword, trying to block somehow, but Hu Gae’s Tagu Staff always slipped past first—by the thinnest margin.
—THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!
Hu Gae’s Tagu Staff didn’t spare Taoist Hyeongong’s chest, belly, ribs, thighs, or back.
The pain was so fierce it felt like every piece of flesh had been carved away until only bone remained.
In his entire life, Taoist Hyeongong had never been beaten like this—endlessly, without pause.
He wished Hu Gae would strike his vital points and end it—but he knew the Smoke-Draw Eighteen Strikes did not permit the opponent to fall before all strikes were completed, so he abandoned hope.
—WHIIIT! WHIT! WHIIIIIT!
All he could do was thrash instinctively, desperate to take even one less hit.
But even those motions slowed more and more, until he couldn’t move at all.
—CLANG-ROLL!
As strength drained from his whole body and his grip loosened, the Songmun Sword fell and rolled across the floor.
—KWAANG!
With a crash like thunder, lightning flashed before his eyes—and the whole world went black.
*****
“Kghhhhh...!”
With a groan, Taoist Hyeongong opened his eyes.
“...Master!”
Seeing his disciple Cheongsu staring down at him with a stricken face, Taoist Hyeongong endured the agony that felt like his whole body was being sliced to pieces, and asked,
“...Where am I?”
“In the guesthouse’s inner room.”
Only then did Taoist Hyeongong realize he was lying on a bed.
While he’d been unconscious, he’d been carried from the dining hall into this inner room.
Remembering how Hu Gae had beaten him into a wreck, Taoist Hyeongong felt shame—and then rage.
Then suddenly he thought of the main force.
“What time is it?”
“Not long ago, the first of the Pig Hour passed.”
“This... nghhh!”
As Taoist Hyeongong hurried to sit up, a hideous pain tore out of him and he let out a groan without meaning to.
Cheongsu spoke in a heavy voice.
“Master, you don’t need to rush.”
“What do you mean...?”
As Taoist Hyeongong started to question him, his eyes widened in alarm.
“Are you saying the main force has already arrived?”
“Yes. A little while ago, they arrived at this guesthouse and everyone has already unpacked.”
Taoist Hyeongong felt his vision go dark.
“What happened in the meantime?”
With a desperate hope that those humiliating events had somehow been wrapped up cleanly, Taoist Hyeongong looked at his disciple.
But Cheongsu answered with an awkward, troubled expression.
“After Master... ended up like that, the Dark Cavern Taoist—no, Martial Uncle Kwak—stepped in and handled the scene.”
“That Dark Cavern Taoist bastard...?”
Taoist Hyeongong felt as though his breath caught in his throat.
It was enough to make his blood boil, but in terms of hierarchy the Dark Cavern Taoist was his disciples’ martial uncle, so he couldn’t exactly condemn him for stepping in to settle the situation.
“How did that Dark Cavern Taoist bastard ‘handle’ the scene?”
“Martial Uncle Kwak sent all the patrons out and emptied the guesthouse.”
“The patrons left quietly?”
“...Yes.”
Seeing his disciple hesitate, Taoist Hyeongong sensed something ominous and pressed him.
“Tell me in detail. Don’t hide anything.”
Under his master’s stern command, Cheongsu hurried to answer.
“Martial Uncle Kwak asked for their understanding while refunding everyone double the room fee. And he also compensated the guesthouse owner for the damaged items.”
“And that money...?”
“...”
Seeing the gaunt look on his disciple’s face, Taoist Hyeongong urgently searched inside his robe.
“...!”
His money pouch was gone.
Meaning: that Dark Cavern Taoist bastard had taken his pouch and spent it as he pleased.
Realizing he’d been toyed with by that man for the second time—after the training-ground incident—rage flared up like fire.
But this wasn’t the time to rage.
Whether the Dark Cavern Taoist had taken the pouch and left, or was still here, both were problems—so Taoist Hyeongong had to ask.
“Where is that Dark Cavern Taoist bastard now?”
“I heard that a little while ago, Martial Uncle Uncheon called for Martial Uncle Kwak and his group.”
Taoist Hyeongong was horrified.
“Then you’re saying that Dark Cavern Taoist bastard went to meet Martial Uncle Uncheon?”
“...I believe so.”
“This...!”
Taoist Hyeongong sprang up. His whole body felt like it was shattering, but pain wasn’t the problem now.
There was no telling what nonsense that Dark Cavern Taoist bastard might spew when he met Martial Uncle Uncheon.
“Bring me my Taoist cap. Now.”
Cheongsu was just about to gather his master’s cap and set it on his head—
—CLICK!
The door opened, and a Taoist stepped inside.
“Taoist Hyeongong, there is no need for you to dress properly.”
“Taoist Hyeonam...!”
Seeing Taoist Hyeonam wearing the black sash—the mark of the Discipline Hall—Taoist Hyeongong felt a fierce sense of déjà vu.
Back at the training ground, Taoist Hyeonam had also appeared out of nowhere like this.
“Taoist Hyeongong, you will go to the Discipline Hall and speak the rest there.”
Recalling that past event, Taoist Hyeongong forced his pounding heart to calm and asked,
“You say I shouldn’t dress properly—what do you mean?”
In a flat voice, Taoist Hyeonam answered.
“Martial Uncle Uncheon said to tell you to reflect on your conduct.”
Taoist Hyeongong felt as though the world was turning black.
“Taoist Hyeonam, Martial Uncle Uncheon must be misunderstanding something... I will go and see him in person and explain the full circumstances of this matter.”
Taoist Hyeonam shook his head.
“You can’t meet him right now.”
“There’s no reason Martial Uncle Uncheon wouldn’t meet me.”
As Taoist Hyeongong took the cap from his disciple’s hands to put it on, Taoist Hyeonam said coldly,
“Stop.”
“...?”
“Martial Uncle Uncheon ordered that no one is to approach the detached annex.”
Only then did Taoist Hyeongong stop, his hand still on the cap.
“Why would Martial Uncle Uncheon...?”
At once, Taoist Hyeongong realized he’d asked a foolish question.
Martial Uncle Uncheon had cleared the area because he meant to speak of urgent matters with that Dark Cavern Taoist bastard, wasn’t that it?
And that only made his curiosity surge even higher.
Martial Uncle Uncheon has lived shut away in the training cave for over ten years, cutting himself off from the world. What could he possibly have to talk about with that Dark Cavern Taoist bastard?
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