Chapter 8

All the martial guards’ gazes fixed on Yeon Mujin.

Their eyes held resentment, anger, and shame.

To have him affront their dignity and then shamelessly show his face again!

But not a single person rushed at Yeon Mujin.

They were hurt, ashamed, and above all, starving.

With greasy food held under their chins, they felt as if a hole had been blown in their bellies.

Yeon Mujin ignored the guards and took a seat.

He rubbed his hands together and said:

“This cook is skilled!”

The first favor Yeon Mujin had asked Head of the Guards Jeong Yeo-gwang for was to prepare one dish.

The steaming dish in front of the hungry table was the Beggar’s Chicken.

It was a simple chicken dish, but no one touched it.

Yeon Mujin looked at the guards and asked:

“Food is here—aren’t you going to eat?”

Then he snapped a drumstick with his bare hands and began chomping.

There was a reason the guards only swallowed and stared at Yeon Mujin.

Because this dish was also called “beggar’s chicken.”

Beggar’s chicken.

A chicken wrapped in lotus leaves and baked with a coating of mud.

To eat it, one must scrape off the mud and eat it with bare hands.

Naturally it looks filthy, and to smear your mouth with grease by hand is a blow to one’s dignity.

That was why no one dared touch the food.

Isn’t this the Bukgung Family’s manor?

Normally, the cooks at Flying Swallow Manor wouldn’t serve such undignified food.

Face and prestige, to the guards here, those mattered more than life itself.

So the guards only swallowed and shot murderous looks at the innocent kitchen.

Only Yeon Mujin smacked his lips.

“Chef! This food is excellent!”

He shouted such words that made others’ hackles rise.

While Yeon Mujin finished the entire chicken alone, the guards watched each other and no one touched the food.

If they had been alone they might have eaten, but Yeon Mujin’s gluttony made it unbearable to show such a sight to others.

“Burp. That was good.”

Yeon Mujin roughly wiped his dirty hands on his clothes.

‘God, how filthy…’

‘He’s a wild dog for sure.’

‘Should we just kill him now?’

As the atmosphere among the guards grew increasingly hostile,

Yeon Mujin tapped the table and said:

“You lot.”

Those who met his eyes immediately looked away as if nothing had happened.

“Be at the sparring ground at the same time tomorrow.”

“…?”

“Starting tomorrow you’ll fight me in a spinning duel. I’ve already got permission from the Head of the Guards, so don’t worry. I’ll fight barehanded, but you may use weapons—swords, blades, spears, fists… anything. You may use internal qi or your own techniques. The duel ends the moment even one of you defeats me.”

The guards who heard this blinked in disbelief.

What did this lunatic just say?

“Tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that until one of you beats me, the spinning matches continue. If I win, we’ll all eat together like today… If you win, I’ll leave the family by my own feet. And one more thing.”

Thud!

Yeon Mujin slammed his greasy palm on the table and

“You should be prepared to kill if you can.”

He said it with a smile.

It was a chilling, ominous smile.

Clack!

“Next!”

Wham!

“Next!”

The day after Flying Swallow Manor’s guard unit suffered humiliation.

Yeon Mujin, as promised, faced them again yesterday’s way—barehanded.

At first the guards, proud, challenged him with bare fists as well.

“Idiots. If your skill’s lacking, you should at least put your pride down.”

But the third man fell in disgrace. The remaining ones slowly drew their weapons.

Did the remaining fighters fare any better?

Not necessarily.

Clang! Crack!

It took Yeon Mujin fewer than five moves to deal with each person.

The first armed challenger started with a light sword form to probe Yeon Mujin.

He never recovered his form; struck on the throat, he flew to the corner making a pig-slicing noise.

Yeon Mujin punished those who didn’t give their all with cruelty.

The rest had to truly attack with full strength.

“Too many openings!”

“Your lower body is weak!”

“Slow!”

But even techniques delivered at full power couldn’t wound Yeon Mujin.

He dismantled their proud moves with utterly shameless methods.

He grabbed noses and pulled, kicked the ground to scatter sand, spat, ducked and rolled like a lowly fighter…

He used every despicable, petty trick fitting of a dogfight.

These were disgraceful methods the guards would never use if a blade were at their throat.

And the result was:

“Is that it for today?”

“Ughhhh…”

As on the previous day, the guards were all sprawled; only Yeon Mujin stood on his feet.

Yeon Mujin clicked his tongue at the groaning guards and left one line:

“Pathetic fools.”

A humiliating phrase they heard two days in a row.

Then he even returned to his usual corner, sat cross-legged, and began cultivating qi.

People thought:

‘Has his nerve gone too far?’

They had wounded pride.

Weapons were in their hands.

The places struck by Yeon Mujin hurt to the bone, but weren’t crippling.

There were more than ten men here who could draw their blades and cut his throat at once.

And yet, in this situation, he cultivates qi again?

There were two possibilities.

Either he had immense guts, or he didn’t value his life.

Or perhaps both.

“…This bastard.”

A bloodied man drew a large goose-wing blade and stood behind Yeon Mujin.

All eyes turned to him.

He was the guard who’d been branded for ambushing Yeon Mujin—his name was Yang Gwan-wol.

Yang Gwan-wol glared at Yeon Mujin while holding the blade.

Thinking that Yeon Mujin caused his disgrace, humiliation, and the pain etched in his body, he couldn’t restrain his anger.

Yang Gwan-wol slowly raised his blade… and then:

“Damn it!”

Smack!

Yang Gwan-wol slammed the blade into the ground and, beside Yeon Mujin, sat cross-legged and began cultivating qi.

Yang Gwan-wol’s comrade, Warrior Seo, Seo Nak-il, spoke.

“What are you doing now?”

“I am cultivating qi — why!”

“In front of all these people?”

“He’s doing it, so why can’t I do it? What, should I cowardly stab him from behind while he’s cultivating? Or glare until he opens his eyes?”

“No, but still…”

“He said he’d do this again tomorrow anyway! If you’re going to make him pay, do it then. Damn it! Bloody hell! You need to be healed to land a proper blow!”

Yang Gwan-wol was angrier and more humiliated than anyone. He’d been the first to be struck by Yeon Mujin and had been saddled with the false charge.

But rather than choosing a cowardly ambush, Yang Gwan-wol chose an honorable duel; his pride wouldn’t allow the disgrace to stand.

“Ugh, this is infuriating!”

After huffing, Yang Gwan-wol closed his eyes, steadied his breath, and began cultivating qi.

Warrior Seo found himself involuntarily acting as Yang Gwan-wol’s protector.

Other guards who heard their exchange muttered curses and then began their tasks.

About half sat cross-legged like Yeon Mujin and Yang Gwan-wol to cultivate qi, while the rest acted as their protectors.

They chewed on their anger and replayed the causes of their defeat.

Thus an unexpected vogue of qi cultivation swept the sparring ground at Flying Swallow Manor.

Gnash!

The sound of teeth grinding, the remaining men huddling to discuss how to legally take Yeon Mujin down, and the low groans from those still sore from blows…

All of it had happened because of one person: Yeon Mujin.

That evening’s meal was no less demeaning than the beggar’s chicken from the day before.

It was Pork Knuckles and ginger stew: pig’s trotters braised with ginger and vinegar.

The guards glowered at the blatant trotters on the table.

‘They expect us to eat this rubbish now?’

They weren’t even given spoons from the kitchen. This too was undoubtedly arranged by Yeon Mujin.

That bastard, meanwhile, smacked his lips and tore at the darkened trotters…

They might stomach chicken, but tearing at pig toes with their hands was impossible.

“Chef! This is delicious today too!”

When Yeon Mujin gave a thumbs-up to the kitchen, the cook returned the gesture as if in response.

One man couldn’t stand it and slammed the table as he rose.

“I really can’t take this anymore!”

Yeon Mujin paused tearing the trotter and looked at him.

“You! You meditator bastard, what grudge do you have against us to do this? Is it because someone missed a guard duty? If you’re going to bawl, go to Head Guard Jeong about it! Why pick on us innocent ones!”

When he raised his voice, others chimed in.

A buoyed guard continued:

“You call it sparring and just beat us senseless, then serve food we can’t even eat? This is dog food, not food for people!”

He grabbed the plate of trotters and hurled it toward the kitchen.

Clang! The pig toes flew; the servants and cook who’d brought it fled fearing trouble.

Yeon Mujin set down the trotter.

“You feel wronged?”

“What?”

“What’s there to feel wronged about? You get beaten because your skills are lacking. Isn’t your duty to guard? Aren’t you the dogs who protect your master? If I took a grudge today and targeted the young lady, could you stop me?”

“…”

“You say I torment you? Yes, I do. Do you know the kind of person I hate most? Someone who can’t do a single thing properly. The type that can’t tell shit from soybean paste and flails in the dung pit—those are the worst. People like you. Parasites who just eat up food.”

Yeon Mujin looked at the guards.

“A cook’s duty is to make good food. A guard’s duty is to protect the one in charge. And what are you? Vermin with neither intent nor skill to protect. You who don’t even know shame—aren’t you exactly that? You’re lesser than these pig toes.”

Yeon Mujin, who picked up the thrown trotter and ate it, said:

“You’re third-rate in skill but expect first-rate treatment from people. Dog food? Even dog food’s wasted on you lot. At least a dog barks to guard its master. Think whether these pig toes on the floor are dirtier, or your consciences—who ignore what must be done out of pride. Still feel wronged? Then become strong. You third-rate guards can’t even reach a wanderer’s toes.”

Every word pierced them to the core.

“If you don’t want to eat it, don’t. Whatever you leave will go to the servants as snacks. You’re not even worthy to eat. If you can’t take being beaten, quit being guards. Third-rate fighters should get the third-rate positions. Or else…”

Yeon Mujin snorted and delivered the final line.

“Get stronger and win.”