Chapter 3 The Beggar
In the lush mountain ravine, the ancient road stretched endlessly through the misty green hills.
Beside that dusty old road, a small teahouse bustled with life.
The young waiter darted about like smoke underfoot, serving tea and pouring water for merchants and travelers from north and south.
During a brief lull in his work, the shopkeeper turned his head toward the entrance and saw a ragged beggar curled up by the steps, hugging a bamboo stick as he slept.
Beside him sat a chipped bowl—empty at the moment.
"In times of chaos, human life is cheap. We're all suffering souls," the shopkeeper sighed, beckoning to a waiter and gesturing toward the door.
The waiter instantly understood and rolled up his sleeves.
"Watch me, Boss. I'll get rid of him right now."
Before he could leave, the shopkeeper smacked him on the head.
"Go fetch two flatbreads and a bowl of water for him."
The waiter froze for a moment, then scratched his head sheepishly and went to the back. A short while later, he returned with two pieces of flatbread and a bowl of clear water.
Squatting beside the beggar, he set the bowl down. "Hey, wake up. Wake up."
He nudged the beggar's leg with his foot.
The beggar opened his eyes, his gaze dull and clouded. Startled, he quickly muttered, "I'll go, I'll go right away…"
"Don't go. My boss is kindhearted—he can't stand to see people suffer. Take these two breads, and if the water's not enough, ask for more. Eat and drink your fill before leaving."
The waiter tossed the bread into the bowl and turned back toward the teahouse.
The beggar bowed repeatedly in gratitude, murmuring his thanks.
Yet when he lowered his head, a glint of sharp awareness flashed in his eyes.
He tucked one of the breads away and devoured the other greedily.
In truth, he wasn't all that hungry—he'd eaten a wild duck earlier that morning, and still had a duck leg hidden in his sleeve.
But since he was playing the part of a beggar, he had to act the part.
Chu Qing had confidence in his acting skills.
It wasn't because he had studied performance in his previous life, but because the body's original owner had learned such things from a master.
To become a proper assassin, acting and disguise were essential skills.
If one played a woodcutter, one had to look like a woodcutter. If one posed as a physician, one had to carry the aura of a physician.
A top assassin not only had to control their killing intent freely, but also master the art of having a thousand faces—able to change and vanish like a ghost.
Only through perfect disguise could one strike unexpectedly, increasing the chances of a successful kill.
Moreover, when that skill was honed well, even a failed assassination would not necessarily mean certain death.
As the saying went, "If one strike fails, flee a thousand miles."
The word "flee" carried deep meaning—it was not only about running fast but also about hiding fast.
If the target survived and had powerful allies, escape would be nearly impossible.
Thus, hiding was key.
Hiding in dark corners was a poor tactic; blending into a crowd where no one could recognize you—that was true mastery.
If you could hide in plain sight, no one could catch you.
That was true escape—appearing without trace and vanishing without a sound.
For an assassin, disguise and acting were sometimes even more vital than martial skill.
Of course, Chu Qing's disguise now wasn't for an assassination. Although he possessed the Assassin System, he currently had no commissions.
After escaping half a month ago, he hadn't spent time lamenting his transmigration. Instead, he began to plan his next move.
By his own design, he intended to flee far away—to some place where no one knew him—and use the system to quietly strengthen himself first.
He had originally planned to wait until he became invincible in the world—then he would tear the very foundations of the Mirror of Retribution apart, leaving not a single trace behind.
But that secret letter had changed his plan.
Chu Yunfei's name had been clearly written and priced, placed on the Mirror of Retribution's kill list.
As a transmigrator, Chu Qing didn't truly feel any fatherly bond toward Chu Yunfei.
Yet, having inherited the original body's memories, his emotions toward the man were complicated.
On one hand, he resented the fate Chu Yunfei had arranged for him; on the other, he couldn't bear to see him fall into danger.
There was also a faint desire for recognition—small, buried thoughts that now lingered within Chu Qing's heart. Though they didn't leave him restless, they still weighed on his mind.
He knew that if Chu Yunfei were truly killed by the Mirror of Retribution, it would become a shadow in his heart—a regret too heavy to ignore.
That would be a loss not worth taking.
So he made up his mind to secretly return to Tianwu City and warn Chu Yunfei.
With Chu Yunfei's reputation as "Iron Palm Du'e" and the influence he held in Tianwu City, as long as he was forewarned, even the Mirror of Retribution would find it hard to touch him on his home turf.
As for Chu Qing himself, he had no intention of revealing his identity.
Not to mention that old marriage arrangement—he didn't even know whether Chu Yunfei still remembered it. Besides, his Assassin System wasn't something that allowed emotional ties.
That rain half a month ago had already washed away all traces of him. He had traveled quietly since, hidden from sight, and now he was nearing the borders of Tianwu City.
As he thought about this, the sound of hoofbeats reached his ears—clop, clop, drawing nearer.
This area was a major crossroads. Three hundred years ago, when the Great Qian Dynasty still stood, there had even been a post station here.
Though somewhat desolate now, travelers still passed through in great numbers.
Chu Qing hadn't paid much attention to the sound—he could tell there were two horses. Soon, their riders stopped nearby. From their casual chatter, addressing each other as senior brother and junior sister, it was clear they were disciples from the same sect.
It wasn't until he heard the clinking sound of coins hitting his bowl that Chu Qing 'startled' and lifted his head.
Before him stood a young man and woman.
The man looked to be about twenty, dressed in a fitted blue robe with bracers around his wrists. His broad palms and well-defined joints marked him as a skilled practitioner of palm arts.
The woman was slightly younger, dressed in a female version of the same outfit.
Her face was refined and delicate, though expressionless.
In contrast, the man's expression carried a trace of emotion—something between confusion and nostalgia.
Chu Qing couldn't explain why, but upon seeing the young man's face, he felt an unexpected sense of familiarity, even comfort.
He quickly adjusted his expression, changed his voice, and rasped, "Many thanks, young master, young lady."
His face was caked in mud, his features unrecognizable, his voice hoarse like that of a weary middle-aged beggar.
Hearing his voice, the young man's complicated look faded. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face—followed by faint relief. He shook his head gently.
"It's fine."
"Senior brother," the woman spoke then. Her tone wasn't cold, but neither was it warm—it carried a polite distance. "Along the road, you give alms to every beggar. Why?"
The young man sighed softly.
"You don't understand, junior sister. My younger brother left home when he was a child and has not returned for years. There's been no news of him since.
"For the past half month, I've dreamed of him—ragged, starving, sleeping by the roadside, thin and frail… Each time, I wake drenched in sweat.
"Whenever I see a beggar by the road, I can't help but worry it's him—and yet, I also hope it is."
Chu Qing's mind buzzed as the words sank in.
Seven years apart—his brother's face had changed, yet blood recognized blood.
No wonder he'd felt such ease when he first looked at the man… this was his second brother, Chu Fan!
…
…
(End of Chapter)