Daepunggae
Hong Geolgae and Wang Bong's meal was the cheapest dumplings sold at the inn.
Unless they were stuffed with extravagant ingredients, dumplings were cheap, plentiful, and filling. What food could be more perfect than that?
"See you tomorrow!"
Wang Bong waved at Hong Geolgae and left. Not long after, a strange voice called from behind.
"You there, young man."
"Yes?"
Hong Geolgae turned around.
Under the moonlight stood a beggar—not tall, but unusually fat. Hong Geolgae had never seen a fat beggar before.
Though he looked quite old, his face was strangely wrinkle-free, giving him an unusual impression.
"Who are you?"
"They call me Paengcheon. But people know me as Daepunggae (Great Prosperous Beggar)."
Of course, Hong Geolgae had never heard of the nickname Daepunggae before. He only thought it suited the man rather well.
Daepunggae smiled warmly as he spoke.
"You've got a rather peculiar physiognomy. Want me to read your fortune?"
"I don't have any money to pay for such a thing."
"That's fine. I didn't learn this art just to make a living. In fact, I've often been told I'm quite accurate."
Daepunggae spoke with confidence.
Unlike ordinary beggars, Daepunggae hadn't been one since youth.
In his younger years, he had been a promising Daoist cultivator of Kunlun. But unable to endure its stifling life, he left Mount Kunlun and eventually became a beggar.
He bore no resentment. For Daepunggae, the beggar's life was far happier than that of a Daoist.
But as the saying goes, a needle will poke through the sack eventually. Daepunggae had too much talent to remain an ordinary beggar.
Not only was his martial skill extraordinary, but his scholarship was so deep that he could converse with learned men without pause.
He could even read a little of the heavens by watching the skies—so reading a face was nothing difficult.
The Beggar's Sect had many members, but few with special talents.
As a result, though he never sought a high position, Daepunggae still became a Law Beggar with six knots. Hong Geolgae, of course, knew nothing of this.
Hong Geolgae shrugged.
"Well, in that case, please take a look. If you can at least tell me what I'll eat for breakfast tomorrow, I'll be impressed."
"Hah, I'm not sure my skill goes as far as tomorrow's breakfast."
Daepunggae chuckled as he studied Hong Geolgae's face carefully.
No mistake—this one is strange.
Big eyes, but the eyelids lacked strength. Thin, short ears. A small but sharp scar ran across the philtrum.
That's the face of someone who should have died in infancy—either from illness or accident.
Yet Hong Geolgae had survived. More than that, he looked quite sturdy.
Daepunggae tilted his head and read further. Normally, such a doomed face would hold no meaning, but since he had survived against fate, other features now carried weight.
The forehead is broad and clear—this is someone who will accomplish something. And these pupils… Dot-Painted Eyes ?
Dot-Painted Eyes referred to small, pitch-black eyes.
Ordinary people's pupils were black while the irises were brownish, but those with Dot-Painted Eyes had irises so black that they were nearly indistinguishable from the pupils.
The problem was that this was an extremely rare and auspicious sign, symbolizing wealth and fortune.
Any other sign, Daepunggae would have dismissed as "good enough for a beggar." But Dot-Painted Eyes? A beggar destined for wealth and luck? Impossible.
Thick brows, but a slightly crooked nose bridge. The corners of the mouth curve upward—he'll seize and never let go of his fortune.
Not a handsome face, but a remarkably lucky one.
It looked as if he had gathered every fortune possible just to overcome his short lifespan. Daepunggae shrugged and said:
"Your face is wide open with fortune. I don't know what you'll eat for breakfast tomorrow, but I doubt you'll go hungry."
"Haha. That's a relief."
"By the way, you seem young, yet you have three knots. Are you perhaps a branch master?"
"Yes. I am Hong Geolgae, Branch Master of Juu-eul Village."
Daepunggae's brow twitched.
A Law Beggar had to know everything about the sect. Memorizing its regulations and structure was basic.
Meaning, Daepunggae knew every single branch of the Beggar's Sect across the Central Plains.
Yet this was the first time he had heard of "Juu-eul Village." Could there really be a branch in a place small enough to be called a village?
Daepunggae thought:
Must be some fraud who learned a little martial art and now pretends to be a branch master.
Faking rank was a grave crime anywhere. Even in the free-spirited Beggar's Sect.
If a martial artist lied about rank, his dantian was abolished. If a commoner did so, his leg tendons were severed.
But Daepunggae didn't want to destroy Hong Geolgae's dantian.
He hadn't boasted as a Three-Knot Beggar, nor shown greed for wealth. He even shared money with the poor the moment he had any.
At that level, Daepunggae could overlook it once.
But that didn't mean Hong Geolgae could keep lying. If another Law Beggar or elder found him, they'd shatter his dantian without hesitation.
Daepunggae smiled kindly.
"You said Hong Geolgae, yes? Care for a little wager with me?"
"A wager?"
"If I win, I take one of your belongings. But if you win… hm, I'll teach you martial arts."
For Hong Geolgae, there was nothing to lose. After all, he had no belongings to be taken.
But there was also nothing to gain. To him, Daepunggae didn't look that strong.
"I may not look it, but I've learned a bit of martial arts. Not profound techniques, but better than the usual street stuff."
"Is that so?"
In that instant, Daepunggae's form blurred. The figure that had stood several paces away vanished, and suddenly, a presence loomed behind him.
Hong Geolgae whirled, swinging his staff in panic.
"Reverse Dog's Hindquarters!"
Daepunggae felt something odd in the move, though he couldn't immediately place it.
As he slipped past the strike and appeared behind him again, Hong Geolgae spun desperately, striking once more.
"Staff Beats Twin Dogs! Fierce Dog Against the Stove!"
After a few more exchanges, Daepunggae grasped the problem.
The names of the techniques, the movements—they resemble the Beggars' Ball-Staff Style. But it's not real. It's an imitation, a clumsy copy beggars use. Worse, he's stacked mismatched martial arts atop it, a messy patchwork.
Daepunggae finished judging and, for the first time, revealed a fraction of his true skill.
One step. One gesture.
Hong Geolgae's vision darkened as a powerful gust slammed into his face.
The next moment, he realized—a broad palm was covering his face.
Daepunggae's elbow wasn't even fully extended. Had it been, Hong Geolgae would have died.
Death had brushed past his nose. But Hong Geolgae felt not fear, but temptation.
When he had been defeated by the Man in Black not long ago—how had he felt watching Dang Mujin suppress him with ease? With this martial art, maybe he could catch up to Dang Mujin.
Hong Geolgae's eyes lit up. Daepunggae laughed heartily and withdrew his hand.
"Would you say this level of skill is enough for stakes?"
"More than enough. What wager do you propose?"
"Let's roll dice. Whoever gets the higher number wins."
Daepunggae pulled out two dice from his robe. Plain wooden dice, with no chance of trickery.
Hong Geolgae nodded. Dice were his specialty, after all.
"Will you roll first, or shall I?"
"Elders first, as they say. Please, go ahead."
"Very well."
Daepunggae, despite his bulky body, rolled the dice with great focus.
They came up 1 and 3. Too low even for a tie.
Hong Geolgae picked up the dice with confidence.
"So if I get a total of 5 or higher, I win, yes?"
"Correct."
Hong Geolgae threw the dice. The result was 5 and 4—more than double Daepunggae's roll.
Hong Geolgae looked at him with confidence. But Daepunggae did something he hadn't expected: he casually nudged both dice, changing them to show 1 and 1.
"What are you doing?"
"What else? I have 4. You have 2. You lost."
"That's ridiculous…! You can't just change the dice like that!"
"If you don't like it, then change them yourself."
Perhaps he was a great martial artist, but a little touched in the head. That's what Hong Geolgae thought as he reached for the dice.
But in that instant, his mind went blank and his heart pounded wildly. A terror swept over him—the fear that he might die immediately.
He didn't even understand what was happening, eyes bloodshot as he looked around.
The only person in sight was Daepunggae, sitting there calmly, watching him.
Yet his instincts screamed at him: step back right now. If you reach for that, you'll die.
Then he understood.
Murderous aura.
The overwhelming killing intent of a true master.
It didn't feel like mere pressure, but rather a declaration, a tangible wall.
Daepunggae was saying with his killing intent: if you reach further, I'll break your arm and snap your neck.
But Hong Geolgae wasn't the sort to back down so easily. He squeezed his eyes shut and thrust his hand toward the dice. He didn't even need to grab them—just a nudge to reroll would beat a 1–3.
Yet his hand never touched them.
More precisely, he couldn't even enter within half a palm's distance of the dice. The instinct to survive was too strong.
"Huff… huff…" Hong Geolgae staggered back, panting. And just like that, the suffocating fear vanished, replaced with calm.
Daepunggae grinned shamelessly.
"Well now. Seems luck was on my side after all. Don't you agree?"
Hong Geolgae could only stare, dumbfounded.
"Truly impressive. What do you want from me? Shall I give you my straw sandals?"
"No. That won't be necessary. I've already taken something."
In Daepunggae's hand was a rope with three knots. Hong Geolgae hastily felt at his waist—but of course, the rope was gone.
It wasn't simple theft. By seizing the rope that marked his supposed rank, Daepunggae had issued a warning: if you go around faking titles, a real master could show up and punish you.
Any ordinary beggar would have understood and yielded.
But there was a problem. Daepunggae didn't realize what that knotted rope truly meant to Hong Geolgae.
"Give it back!"
"If you lose a wager, you should know how to accept it."
Daepunggae clicked his tongue, chuckling as he turned to leave. Hong Geolgae dared not recklessly grab him.
As Daepunggae was about to vanish into the night, he sensed something flying toward the back of his head. Tilting slightly, he let a stone the size of half a fist whistle past his ear.
Daepunggae was mild by nature. But not so mild as to laugh off a stone hurled at his back.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I can't… I won't give that up!"
"Consider yourself lucky. Pretending to be a branch master of a nonexistent outpost and walking away with only this—if another Law Beggar had caught you, your dantian would already be shattered."
"Law Beggar…!"
A Six-Knot Beggar was a rank as high as the heavens.
But right now, Hong Geolgae didn't care how many knots the other man carried.
"Law Beggar or not— even if I lose my head, I won't give it up. Leave it here."
"Oh? Then how about another roll?"
Daepunggae tossed him the dice.
"This time, the stakes are your dantian and your right arm. I'll wager this rope."
He fully expected Hong Geolgae to retreat.
But without hesitation, Hong Geolgae cast the dice.
The result didn't matter—Daepunggae had already shifted them to 1 and 1.
"Seems I've won again. Wouldn't you say?"
Hong Geolgae drew a deep breath and stepped toward him.
Again, killing intent crashed down on him. No, heavier than before. This time it wasn't a bluff—Daepunggae truly meant to collect.
Hong Geolgae bit his lower lip until blood filled his mouth. Oddly, the pain cleared his head. He forced one more step forward.
But the dice still lay far away. His body fought itself—legs pushing forward, knees collapsing back; shoulder reaching, elbow folding. It felt like his limbs belonged to someone else.
Daepunggae watched calmly.
He had given the youth a chance. The boy had thrown it away.
It was regrettable, but he'd have to crush the boy's dantian. At least with one arm left, he could still beg for food.
Then, with his face red and veins bulging, Hong Geolgae let out a feral scream.
"Aaaargh!"
What nonsense was he trying now? Daepunggae's eyes widened as Hong Geolgae shoved his left forearm into his mouth—then, without the slightest hesitation, bit down and tore away a chunk of his own flesh.
Blood gushed. Muscle gleamed raw beneath the skin.
It was madness, sheer madness. Even Daepunggae faltered.
But that searing agony gave Hong Geolgae something to cling to. For just a moment, it drowned out the killing intent.
Staggering, he took two more steps forward.
No time to crouch and grab the dice.
Instead, he lashed out and kicked them with all his strength.
The plain wooden dice clattered away, rolling into the corner of the alley.
Without even checking the result, Hong Geolgae gave a satisfied smile—then collapsed, unconscious.
"Tch."
Daepunggae clicked his tongue.
This one… he's not normal.
He hesitated. Should he allow this lunatic to keep claiming the title of branch master?
No, that would be unwise. If another Law Beggar or elder saw him, they'd certainly destroy his dantian.
But then he recalled the boy tearing into his own flesh.
Hong Geolgae had a will he himself lacked. He had never taken a disciple in his life, but perhaps this one… this one might be worth teaching.
If he were a Law Beggar's disciple, no one would question him wearing three knots.
The face never lies. He is fated for great fortune.
Daepunggae glanced at the limp Hong Geolgae, then went to retrieve the dice. They had come to rest at 1 and 2.
He changed them both to show 6 and 6, and smiled in satisfaction.
See? My fortune-reading is always accurate.
After sealing Hong Geolgae's wound to stop the bleeding, he hoisted him onto his back.
His first disciple—at the very least, he would buy the boy breakfast tomorrow.