True Awakening
The next morning, as soon as they stepped out of their guest room, they were greeted by the innkeeper's sour expression.
Hong Geolgae glanced at him and thought,
"Is he perhaps feeling the awe of the Deputy Chief?"
Of course, that wasn't the case. Tang Mujin pointed outside the inn and spoke.
"How did they even know to come here?"
Outside the inn, dozens of beggars had gathered. The innkeeper seemed worried they would drive away business.
Their original plan was to finish breakfast before leaving. But instead, the three skipped their meal and slipped out hurriedly. Eating while staring at the innkeeper's resentful face would only spoil their stomachs.
Once they stepped onto the street, the beggars split to either side, opening a path. Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong found the sight overwhelming, but Hong Geolgae's reaction was quite different.
His steps spread wide like the figure eight, moving slowly, while his shoulders rose a good three inches higher than usual.
Any higher, and they might brush his ears. Even a man who had passed the highest civil examinations in the past wouldn't have strutted with such swagger.
Guided by the beggars surrounding them, the group arrived at Hong Myeonnogae's dwelling. It wasn't particularly luxurious—just the sort of modest house one might expect of a person who ran a small shop and lived without hunger.
"You've come."
As if expecting him, Hong Myeonnogae greeted the party politely, just as he had the night before.
Hong Geolgae, standing proudly, spoke first.
"I came because I have something to ask."
"What do you wish to know?"
Hong Geolgae asked a rather unimpressive question.
"Being Deputy Chief is all well and good, but what am I supposed to do now?"
"On occasion, orders will arrive from the headquarters. You will need to carry them out. But such orders are rare, so you needn't worry much."
"Anything else? Or rather—is there anything else?"
He almost slipped into speaking down to Hong Myeonnogae, then corrected himself.
It was true that by rank, the difference was overwhelming. But Hong Geolgae found it strange and uncomfortable to address an elder disrespectfully.
Moreover, Hong Myeonnogae was a master at the peak of martial cultivation. The chance was slim, but if he disliked Hong Geolgae's attitude, matters could become very troublesome.
"From time to time, if an issue arises within the Beggar's Sect, you may resolve it at your discretion. It shouldn't be difficult. All beggars respect the authority of the Deputy Chief."
"Mm."
Hong Geolgae nodded, very pleased with the word "authority."
Hong Myeonnogae added another remark.
"More important, however, is not to stir up anything big."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Like myself, you likely haven't had much scholarly learning, given your origins."
Hong Geolgae nodded again, and Hong Myeonnogae explained further.
"People like us, unlearned as we may be, can still give small help and settle disputes. But if we become greedy for great achievements, if we try to leave behind legacies, then trouble comes. The affairs of the world often twist in unintended directions. Even tasks that seem simple can lead to disastrous results."
The words sounded noble, but the meaning was simple: don't cause trouble trying to do something grand, and you'll do fine.
Hong Geolgae actually liked that even more. He disliked complicated matters, and he knew he wasn't suited to handle them anyway.
Now, he could enjoy the rank of Deputy Chief of the Beggar's Sect without actually doing much. Pure pleasure without responsibility.
He thought that soon, he must visit the grave he had raised for Majonggae in Jueul Village.
"Master, as you said, I have regained my father's rightful place. You may rest in peace."
He then asked Hong Myeonnogae,
"And what will you do now, elder?"
"Much the same as before. I shall live on as an ordinary beggar and member of the Hao Sect."
"I have a request."
"Please, speak."
"I must leave urgently on other business. I'd like you to handle matters in Zhongqing for the time being."
"Very well."
Hong Geolgae dumped even trivial duties onto him. Yet Hong Myeonnogae showed no sign of feeling burdened—which likely meant there truly wasn't much duty at all.
After all, what real obligations could leading a group of beggars possibly entail?
With swagger, Hong Geolgae turned to leave, the five-knotted rope at his waist whipping noisily in the air.
***
The three then departed Zhongqing and headed straight for Mount Nogun. Namgung Myeong remarked,
"It hasn't been that long, but so much has changed."
Unlike before, when the area around Nogun Mountain had been desolate, now carts were coming and going—some heading toward, some leaving the mountain. Word had spread of changes, and medicinal merchants had gathered swiftly.
As they entered Nakseong Village at the mountain's edge, a man in his forties raised a hand high.
"Isn't that Young Hero Tang?"
But Tang Mujin couldn't recall who he was. The face seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it exactly.
"…You are?"
"Bang Ik. Eldest son of Village Head Bang."
Not someone particularly close, but a face he knew.
Tang Mujin compared the Bang Ik in his memory to the man before him. There was a resemblance, but without the introduction, he might not have believed they were the same person.
Gone was the gloomy, defeated expression typical of Nogun Mountain folk. Where once his face had been gaunt with protruding cheekbones, now it was filled out—perhaps even too much. Bang Ik smiled sheepishly.
"I've changed a little, haven't I?"
"Yes, indeed."
So quickly had the weight come on that white stretch marks had formed on his forearms. It was perhaps excessive, but Tang Mujin was glad he looked more fortunate than before.
He and Namgung Myeong looked around. Others weren't much different—ordinary, even a bit plump. The children especially looked noticeably fuller.
Tang Mujin clicked his tongue softly.
"You're looking well. But putting on too much weight isn't good for your health."
"I've heard as much. But after starving so long, it's hard to restrain myself."
"Mm."
Seeing Tang Mujin's reluctant expression, Bang Ik waved his hands.
"Don't worry too much. Our appetites are slowly calming. The more the hunger fades, the weaker the craving grows."
Tang Mujin nodded.
Indeed, it felt wrong to lecture people who had spent their lives starving about how much they ate.
Still, they must not forget the true reason they had come to Nogun Mountain.
"Where is Elder Pyochung?"
"In there, the house with the pine tree in the yard."
The group walked toward the house with the pine tree.
It wasn't straight, but twisted and bent as it grew—likely because it had sprouted in mountain soil. At first glance, it seemed unsightly, but its twisted yet upward-reaching form reminded Tang Mujin of Pyochung himself.
Pyochung was swinging his sword in the yard when he noticed Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong approaching. His eyes widened in surprise. He immediately sheathed his sword and walked toward Tang Mujin.
"Young Hero Tang, Young Hero Myeong. It's been a long time. And the young hero behind you must be a friend?"
"I am Hong Jusan, a Beggar's Sect member, Deputy Chief of the Central Division, and Branch Leader of Zhongqing."
Pyochung narrowed his eyes at Hong Geolgae, who reintroduced himself.
"…I'm Hong Geolgae. Their friend."
"I see. Pleased to meet you."
Tang Mujin's gaze was fixed on Pyochung's sword. The blade he had been wielding was not the one Tang Mujin had forged for him.
"It seems you gifted the sword I made you to your sect."
"Wasn't that the reason you made it?"
At that, Tang Mujin laughed.
"Truth be told, I suspected you might not take the sword to the Wudang Sect. It's a little embarrassing to say myself, but my smithing is no ordinary craft. Once someone holds a sword I've forged, they never wish to let it go."
Both Pyochung and Namgung Myeong nodded in agreement.
"Of course it was hard to part with. More than once I thought about turning back to Nogun Mountain with it. But I know my limits. I cannot cross the wall of the peak."
Martial artists do not endlessly grow stronger merely by accumulating experience and insight. To advance, body, energy, and spirit must remain in balance. That is why most people pass into the next stage around a certain age.
Among orthodox sects, the majority reach the first-class stage in their late twenties to early thirties. As for surpassing the wall of the peak, most succeed in their mid-forties to early fifties.
Pyochung was in his early fifties—the ideal time to transcend the wall.
But that was only the pattern; not everyone could step into the next realm. In fact, the vast majority could not. Many crashed against their limits again and again until despair consumed them. Yet some accepted their limits and let go of regret. Pyochung was one such man.
"Don't you find it regrettable?"
"Of course I do. But men are bound by fate, are they not?"
Pyochung looked toward the pine tree in the yard.
"I am like this pine. When it should have grown straight upward, it twisted this way and that. But it did not wither. It survived, and in the end spread its branches broader than others. Not every tree must grow tall and straight. For me, this is enough."
He smiled gently.
"And because I am satisfied, I can abandon regret. With my meager skill, it would not be the way of a cultivator to covet such a sword. That blade is a divine treasure, one even those who easily crossed the peak's wall would deem excessive. For a mere first-class martial artist like me to cling to it would be absurd. As the saying goes, pearls before swine."
At that, Hong Geolgae quietly shifted the green bamboo staff behind his back. Namgung Myeong's lips moved silently—he was clearly teasing Hong Geolgae through sound transmission.
"In any case, I too must fulfill my duty."
Pyochung went behind the house and returned with a large lidded jar.
Tang Mujin lifted the lid. Inside were piles of poisonous things: venomous mushrooms and herbs, insects, snakes, lizards, frogs. It was not a pleasant sight.
"From the moment you left, the villagers gathered these together. I fear it may not be enough."
"This much will suffice for now."
Tang Mujin took a deep breath and plunged his right arm into the jar. The living creatures, as if sensing something, scrambled away from his hand to cling to the edges.
But retreating made no difference.
Closing his eyes, Tang Mujin drew the venomous energy into himself. The stagnant poisonous liquid at the bottom dried up, and the creatures went still.
His poison core filled again for the first time in a long while. The satisfaction was different from building inner strength through breathing exercises.
Before long, his poison core was brimming, yet there was still venom remaining in the jar.
In the past, he would have stopped there. But this time, Tang Mujin continued to draw the poison in.
His poison core and dantian quivered violently as though unable to hold more, yet he ignored it.
Like a dam struck by torrential rain, the venom within the poison core spilled outward. Once, that flood would have rushed through his meridians and killed him. But now it was different. The inner energy flowing through his eight extraordinary channels naturally absorbed the venom. His body felt saturated with poison, but for the first time, Tang Mujin felt truly complete.
The creatures in the jar were nothing but husks. Tang Mujin withdrew his arm.
"Finished?"
"Yes."
He stepped aside, shifted his weight, and performed True Awakening (Jingak).
It wasn't as destructive as the True Awakening of the Fiery Flame Deity's Martial Art.
But it was no ordinary True Awakening. From the spot where his foot fell, the surrounding grass withered and drooped lifelessly.
Excellent.
Tang Mujin lifted his head with satisfaction. But Pyochung's face was far from pleased.
…What's wrong with him?
Following Pyochung's gaze, Tang Mujin turned his head.
The pine tree in the yard had yellowing leaves.
He spoke awkwardly,
"It won't die. Probably."
Though in truth, he wasn't certain.
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