Chongqing
By day, Tang Mujin hammered iron before the blacksmiths, forging strange swords. By evening, he would go out with Hong Geolgae to the taverns and drink.
By the third night they sought out the taverns, crowds gathered as soon as Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae entered the tavern street. The most enthusiastic were, of course, the tavern keepers themselves.
"Please come to our tavern tonight!"
"Great hero! We've prepared veal for you! Qing Tian Lou! Come to Qing Tian Lou!"
"Nobaek Liquor, Motai Liquor, Jian Nan Chun! We've got rare wines of every kind! This way, please!"
The reason they flocked was simple: rumors had spread that the young eccentric had carved the Thousand-Armed Avalokiteśvara into the wall of Dengxian Lou in place of paying for his drinks.
Once people saw that once-unremarkable Dengxian Lou was now lined with visitors wanting to glimpse the Avalokiteśvara, the other tavern owners couldn't help but lose their minds trying to compete.
Thanks to that, Hong Geolgae and Tang Mujin enjoyed rare wines and expensive dishes every day without spending a single coin.
On the fifth day since they began visiting taverns, Tang Mujin looked out from his room at the Xin Yue Inn.
The raindrops that had been falling steadily were now pouring harder, as though the sky itself had torn open.
"At this rate, it'll be hard to go to the taverns today."
That suited him fine. After days of drinking, he was beginning to feel weary.
Tang Mujin sprawled lazily across the bed.
After some time, amid the roar of rain, he faintly heard a human voice.
"…Hero Hong Geolgae! Hero Hong Geolgae—!"
It wasn't unusual for people to come to Xin Yue Inn looking for Tang Mujin. Each time, the innkeeper would chase them away with an annoyed expression, then glare at Tang Mujin.
But this was the first time someone had come looking for Hong Geolgae. Tang Mujin nudged Hong Geolgae, who was rolling about on the floorboards.
"Hey, someone's looking for you."
"Who?"
"Listen. They're calling your name."
Hong Geolgae got up and pricked his ears. Sure enough, the shouts of "Hero Hong Geolgae—!" came through the rain.
"I'll go see who it is. Are you going to the taverns tonight?"
"No. I think I'll take a break today."
"Yeah? Alright then."
Hong Geolgae sauntered out to the inn's front.
There stood a familiar beggar—Soseon's father, So Samgu.
So Samgu, drenched to the bone, seized Hong Geolgae's hand.
"Great hero, I need your help."
"Please speak freely. What is it?"
"My daughter has disappeared. I came hoping you might help."
"You mean Soseon?"
"Yes…"
Hong Geolgae recalled her— the little girl who grinned despite missing her front teeth, the tiny hand that had offered him a soggy rice ball.
Had she not come that day, he might still be lying somewhere by the riverside, dazed and soaking in the rain.
"Could she have gone out to beg?"
"No. My daughter always tells me before she goes anywhere. And on days when the rain pours like this, she never strays far."
Suddenly, Hong Geolgae imagined the swollen waters of the Yangtze.
"Surely she hasn't been swept away…?"
"Soseon is timid. When the rains are heavy, she won't go anywhere near the riverbank. This must be it—bandits took her while the storm raged. It must be those Longshang Fort scoundrels!"
So Samgu's shoulders trembled—not with fear of bandits, but with anger.
Indeed, what fear could outweigh the wrath of a father whose daughter was stolen?
"You're certain the bandits took her?"
"Every so often, children have vanished. At first we thought they'd been swept away. But several people have seen bandits seize children."
The beggars' information network was not to be underestimated.
Though they rarely gathered high-level secrets, beggars were everywhere. And once news reached them, it circulated endlessly, for they had little else for entertainment than gossiping among themselves.
Still, Hong Geolgae hesitated. It didn't quite make sense.
"But why would bandits want Soseon?"
She was just a child, her baby teeth not even fully gone.
If bandits kidnapped people, it made more sense to take adults—whether to sell them, or use them for their own amusement.
So Samgu lowered his voice.
"I've heard of demonic wanderers buying boys and girls. The reasons are never good. I fear Soseon's been taken for such a purpose… or worse, already harmed."
His voice quavered, straining beneath the weight of dread for his daughter.
Hong Geolgae tried to reassure him.
"As it happens, I know someone I can ask for help. Please return and wait—we'll come soon."
"Thank you, great hero!"
So Samgu bowed again and again, retreating reluctantly, still glancing back over his shoulder.
Hong Geolgae went straight to the tavern street. The ones he trusted in Chongqing were the Beggar's Sect men who ran the taverns.
He recalled the taverns he and Tang Mujin had visited—Luo Xing Lou, Da Hua Lou, Qing Yue Lou, and so on. He chose the nearest, Luo Xing Lou, and requested a meeting with its master.
The tavern master, knowing Hong Geolgae was close with Tang Mujin, readily agreed. After all, with luck, he might gain another carved masterpiece.
Hong Geolgae relayed So Samgu's story in full detail.
"…And so it is. Could you perhaps help rescue the child from the bandits?"
"I'll report it to the higher-ups. If there's word, I'll contact you immediately."
"Thank you."
The tavern master gave a favorable reply.
Yet he said nothing about mustering men to wipe out the bandits at once, nor about staking lives to bring Soseon back.
"Something feels off. Maybe I should ask a few more."
So Hong Geolgae went to other taverns. The more people he appealed to, the better his chances.
Every tavern master gave much the same answer. We'll report it upward. Don't worry too much. Are you coming to the tavern tonight?
After making the rounds of several, Hong Geolgae finally stepped into Dengxian Lou.
Here, the master's reaction differed slightly.
"I'll pass it along to the higher-ups, but… you'd best not expect too much."
Unlike the others, he didn't just offer vague assurances; he added a grim outlook.
It struck Hong Geolgae that perhaps this matched the unease he'd been feeling all along. He pressed immediately.
"Why do you say not to expect much?"
"Two reasons. First, there's no proof the bandits even took that girl Soseon. Why should we risk conflict with them on nothing but a beggar's word?"
"But there have been rumors—"
"Even if those rumors are true, it hardly changes things."
"What do you mean?"
"The timing is bad. Look outside."
Following his gesture, Hong Geolgae looked out the window. The heaviest downpour yet was pounding down without pause.
"The rain has fallen for days, hasn't it?"
"Not just the rain—look at the Yangtze."
Beyond the curtain of rain, the river surged, foaming white as it rushed past.
Compared to when they first arrived in Chongqing, its waters were swollen beyond recognition, more like a sideways waterfall than a river.
The Yangtze looked ready to overflow at any moment. Many people were desperately reinforcing the embankments, struggling to hold the flood back.
The Dengxian Lou master continued his explanation.
"This year, the rains have been strangely heavy. If it continues for even one or two more days, the Yangtze will surely overflow."
The Dengxian Lou master's face was clouded with deep concern. If the river flooded, the tavern itself—built right on the riverbank—would certainly not survive.
He tapped his long bamboo pipe, knocking out the packed ash inside.
"When the Yangtze overflows, many will lose their homes. Countless lives will be swept away. To prevent that, most of the Beggar's Sect has been mobilized to reinforce the embankments. We simply don't have the manpower to spare."
"…"
"I'm sorry I can't be of more help. Still, I'll report it upward."
Only after hearing the Dengxian Lou master's words did Hong Geolgae finally understand the source of his unease.
The other tavern masters' replies had meant nothing. They were just polite gestures.
Hong Geolgae turned away in despair.
His mind was in turmoil. He had already promised So Samgu he would ask for help—he had to return to him. But how should he put it?
Should he relay the truth exactly as it was?
'I spoke to the Beggar's Sect, but they told me not to expect much.'
If he said that, So Samgu would be devastated. And part of that disappointment would fall upon Hong Geolgae himself. Human emotions were unpredictable.
Hong Geolgae did not want to face So Samgu's grief head-on.
Then perhaps he could cut away the grim parts and deliver only the hopeful?
'I spoke to many in the Beggar's Sect. They all gave positive replies, so surely the sect will act to resolve this.'
That seemed like the best approach. If the Beggar's Sect failed to act, So Samgu's anger would be directed at the sect's leaders, not at him.
Before long, Hong Geolgae arrived near the bridge.
The beggars were not beneath it—the water had risen too high, one misstep could sweep them into the current.
Hong Geolgae found So Samgu and relayed the news.
"I spoke to several members of the Beggar's Sect and told them the situation. They all promised to report it upward, so surely help will—"
Before he could finish, So Samgu shouted furiously.
"Those people will never help us! To them, we're nothing but animals, simply because we're not part of their sect!"
Hong Geolgae's guess had been completely wrong.
So Samgu had no faith in the Beggar's Sect. Caught off guard, Hong Geolgae tried to calm him.
"Even so, righteous martial men won't turn away from injustice. They still uphold xiayi (chivalry)—"
"What does xiayi matter? The river bandits are martial men, the demonic wanderers and devil cultists are martial men! And those Beggar's Sect scoundrels—they're in league with the bandits! When's the last time you heard of them clashing in the past ten years?"
So Samgu bellowed. Other beggars rushed in, restraining him in his frenzy.
Hong Geolgae suddenly remembered something the Dengxian Lou master had said in passing during their first meeting:
"In Chongqing, there's no middle-tier sect strong enough to challenge the Beggar's Sect. Only the river bandits exist, but they hardly ever fight with them."
Yes. The Beggar's Sect did not fight the bandits.
Would they shatter that peace for the sake of a beggar's child, who meant nothing to them?
No.
Would they sacrifice their own disciples' lives to save a beggar's daughter?
No.
The beggars' words as they tried to calm So Samgu dug into Hong Geolgae's ears.
"Samgu, we understand your pain, but taking it out on Hero Hong isn't right."
"Exactly. He didn't take Soseon. And he's the only one who even listened to us. All we can do now is trust the Beggar's Sect and wait…"
At that, a burning shame surged in Hong Geolgae's chest. Yet there was nothing he could do.
He bowed his head deeply and backed away, then turned to leave.
He wanted only to return to the Xin Yue Inn, forget everything, and sleep.
"Everyone said it—it's not my fault. I don't need to feel guilty."
Trudging along, someone suddenly called out to him.
"Hey, you there."
Turning his head, Hong Geolgae saw an old beggar woman.
Right now, he had no desire to speak to strangers. All he wanted was to drink himself into a stupor.
He snapped his head away without replying.
But the old woman wasn't about to let him go.
"Are you deaf, boy? Weren't you the one asking around about Ma Jeonggae?"
His master's name. The word struck him instantly, and he turned back at once. The old woman chuckled.
"So it is you. What business did you have, searching for Jonggyeon?"
"Jonggyeon?"
"You didn't even know his name? I mean Ma Jeonggae."
Hong Geolgae frowned.
"His name isn't Jonggyeon. It's Honggyeon. At least get the name right."
"No. It's Jonggyeon. I even knew his father. You think I'd mistake his surname or his name?"
Could it be that his master had changed even his surname when he fled? The gloomy heaviness in Hong Geolgae's chest sank even deeper.
"It's none of my concern. Whether he's Honggyeon or Jonggyeon. Go your way, old woman."
"No. I've my own questions. What's your relationship with Ma Jeonggae?"
Hong Geolgae couldn't bring himself to proudly declare that Ma Jeonggae was his teacher.
To say that the notorious thief Ma Jeonggae was his master—it was absurd.
"We just happened to cross paths."
"Then do you know where he is now?"
Her prying tone grated on him. He snapped back irritably.
"Why are you so curious? Did he steal something from you too?"
"Of course not. Ma Jeonggae never had sticky fingers."
"That's strange. I heard he stole something and fled Chongqing."
"What nonsense? As far as I know, Ma Jeonggae never once stole an object."
Then the old woman added one more line:
"The only thing he ever stole from Chongqing… was a person."