What is it that humans cannot eat?
Feces? Animal hides? Insects?
Namgung Un could now answer that question with certainty: there was nothing in this world a human couldn’t eat.
“Urghhh.” Namgung Un was retching again, tears and snot streaming down his face.
He had thought that the food beggars ate would be mere leftovers or spoiled rice. But such things were luxurious meals reserved for the more respectable beggars of the Beggars’ Sect. Insects, tree roots, the hide of a dead rat—ordinary beggars put anything in their mouths just to avoid starving.
And then there were the things beggars called their “staple food”: the debris floating in the sewers.
“Ughhh.” Unable to swallow what was in his mouth, Namgung Un began to vomit.
The scraps floating in the sewers were closer to garbage than food. Yet, for beggars who could never fill their empty stomachs, they carefully scooped these scraps out, filled a bucket with them, and boiled them to eat.
The taste… was so horrific that savoring it was unimaginable. If one had to describe it, it was all sourness and bitterness—more precisely, like swallowing the bitter bile that came up during vomiting.
‘Horrible.’
For the first time in his life, Namgung Un thought the word “horrible.” His tongue fiercely rejected tasting these scraps, and as they passed through his throat into his stomach, his organs seemed to scream in protest.
“Is it edible?” Bu Eunseol asked.
Wiping his streaming tears, Namgung Un replied, “It’s… an astonishing taste.”
“Good to hear.”
“It’s the kind of taste that’d make a corpse leap out of its grave.”
Sniffle.
He had wiped his tears, but clear teardrops poured from his eyes like a waterfall once more.
“Chew until you stop gagging. Get used to it,” Bu Eunseol said.
“Can anyone… get used to this taste?” Namgung Un wiped his tears again, thinking the only way to get accustomed to this taste was to lose his sense of taste entirely.
Rustle.
Suddenly, Bu Eunseol pulled out strange vials from his robes and began mixing their contents. Namgung Un felt a sense of foreboding.
“Show me your teeth.”
That foreboding quickly became reality. As Namgung Un bared his teeth, Bu Eunseol began smearing them with a thick, sticky substance.
“Bear with it,” Bu Eunseol said calmly. “This will make your teeth look yellow for a while.”
“Urgh.” As the yellowish, viscous liquid clung to his teeth, the nausea he had barely suppressed erupted again. The stench of the concoction Bu Eunseol applied was so foul that the sewer scraps seemed fragrant by comparison.
“Ughhh.” Namgung Un wailed loudly, wondering why he couldn’t just faint in moments like this. For the first time, he cursed his resilient spirit.
“Brother Bu,” he said, barely regaining his composure and wiping his tear-soaked eyes. “When I was young, I was punished by going without food for four days. Ever since, I’ve boasted that there’s no food in the world I can’t eat.”
Shaking his head, he trembled. “But I could say that only because I hadn’t eaten this.”
Staring at the debris still floating in the bowl with terrified eyes, he continued, “Brother Bu, these are beggars in the headquarters. Don’t they at least beg for proper food?”
“…”
“Why do we have to eat this?”
“Beggars below the rank of Second Knot always reek of the sewers,” Bu Eunseol explained calmly. “Until they become official sect members, they eat from the sewers every day.”
He added, “Give up now. No one will judge you.”
‘Give up?’
Namgung Un bit his lip. If he couldn’t overcome this trial, how could he become a great person?
“Why do you keep telling me to give up? I was just asking out of curiosity.”
Crunch, crunch.
Namgung Un began shoving the scraps into his mouth—not the boiled ones from the bucket, but the raw debris straight from the sewer. He didn’t vomit and swallowed them calmly.
‘I did it!’
A surge of joy washed over him. He felt there was nothing he couldn’t do now. All that remained was to become a perfect beggar and infiltrate the Beggars’ Sect headquarters.
“Look! I’m ready, aren’t I?” Namgung Un grinned broadly.
But he didn’t realize that the trials to enter the headquarters were far from over.
The Beggars’ Sect headquarters wasn’t like other sects, with grand halls or buildings. It resembled a village built on a vast plain. Originally, the sect began as a community of starving beggars forming a hamlet for survival, as lone beggars were often beaten to death while begging. Though it now held vast influence as one of the Nine Great Sects, it still maintained its headquarters in a remote area, commanding its beggars from there.
Bu Eunseol and Namgung Un finally re-entered Kaifeng. After days of eating nothing but sewer scraps, they looked every bit like true beggars—so convincing that even other sect beggars wouldn’t suspect them. But Bu Eunseol knew Namgung Un still had a critical flaw: his demeanor and gait.
Namgung Un carried the confident aura and distinctive stride of a noble family’s heir, not learned but ingrained from growing up among great figures and masters. Such habits, embedded in his body, couldn’t be changed overnight.
“Do you know how to perform the Bone-Breaking Muscle-Twisting Technique?” Bu Eunseol asked out of the blue.
Namgung Un shook his head. “No. Why would I learn such a cruel torture technique?”
“I see.”
As Bu Eunseol’s gaze swept over him, Namgung Un felt unease creeping up. “Why do you ask?”
“Your gait and demeanor are like long-standing habits—impossible to change instantly.”
“My gait and demeanor?”
“Yes. Especially for experts, a person’s walk reveals much,” Bu Eunseol said calmly. “You have the bold aura and stately gait typical of a noble family’s heir. No beggar has such a demeanor or walk.”
Namgung Un scratched his head, his expression troubled. “Then what do I do? After all this effort?”
“If you can’t change your demeanor immediately, the best approach is to laugh constantly, acting a bit dim-witted. Anyone can do that.”
“Hehe.” Namgung Un grinned foolishly and nodded. “I’m pretty good at that! But what about my gait?”
“Since your gait can’t be corrected, it’s best to use the Bone-Breaking Muscle-Twisting Technique to temporarily make you limp.”
Thud.
Namgung Un, still grinning like a fool, felt as if the heavens and earth had collapsed. After all this, he now had to deliberately twist his muscles and bones to limp?
Sniffle.
Tears streamed down his face without him even thinking sad thoughts. “Is that really necessary?”
“The first application of the Bone-Breaking Muscle-Twisting Technique can create injuries akin to being beaten,” Bu Eunseol said, nodding. “That way, we can enter the headquarters immediately without complications.”
Namgung Un swallowed hard, looking down at his legs. The Bone-Breaking Muscle-Twisting Technique was infamous in the martial world as a torture method. Even the most tight-lipped assassins or iron-willed warriors would turn talkative after one session. Though he’d heard of it countless times, Namgung Un couldn’t fathom the pain it would bring.
“You can still give up now.”
“Give up? Who said anything about giving up?” Namgung Un snapped at the word, his voice defiant. “I was just startled. Do it now!”
His bold voice proclaimed his status as a proud Southern Palace heir. But soon, a hard piece of wood was clamped tightly in his mouth, and his eyes were already misting over.
“Arghhh!”
A blood-curdling scream echoed in front of the Beggars’ Sect headquarters. A scrawny beggar was carrying a plump one, rushing into the headquarters—it was Bu Eunseol and Namgung Un. Bu Eunseol had applied the Bone-Breaking Muscle-Twisting Technique to Namgung Un and dashed straight for the headquarters.
Many sect beggars were around, but no one stopped a beggar with rolled-back eyes and foaming at the mouth.
“What happened?” a middle-aged beggar, who seemed to hold some rank, asked Bu Eunseol as they entered.
“We got beaten while begging,” Bu Eunseol replied.
The middle-aged beggar examined Namgung Un, noting his twisted leg and the numerous footprints on his body, and clicked his tongue. “Who dared to touch a sect member?”
“I don’t know, sir. Sparks flashed before my eyes, and we were beaten.”
“Must be those vile martial artists taking out their anger on our disciples again,” the middle-aged beggar muttered angrily, then clicked his tongue again upon seeing their waists. “No knots? No wonder you got beaten!”
With so many members spread across the Central Plains, the Beggars’ Sect often struggled to recognize each other. Thus, disciples were given knots to signify their membership and rank. New disciples received one knot to mark them as First Knot disciples, but dim-witted beggars sometimes lost them.
“Go to Zhangbang Cave inside. You can get medicine there.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Bu Eunseol carried Namgung Un and headed deeper inside.
[Was it that easy?] Namgung Un, who had regained consciousness after foaming at the mouth, sent a telepathic message. [They even acknowledged us as sect members without knots?]
[The Beggars’ Sect has so many members, and branch leaders often take in disciples indiscriminately across regions,] Bu Eunseol replied calmly via telepathy. [Unless you’re a Second Knot disciple learning martial arts formally, it’s hard to recognize faces.]
[That’s too sloppy. Not even suspecting us without knots?] Namgung Un sent.
[Not at all. They’ve already checked several things,] Bu Eunseol said in a low voice. [Knots can be easily stolen from any beggar in the Central Plains, so the sect doesn’t even bother checking them.]
With a deadly serious expression, he continued via telepathy, [That beggar seemed casual, but he was verifying many things. Think back on the situation.]
Only then did Namgung Un recall the middle-aged beggar’s actions. He had closely observed Bu Eunseol’s movements as he approached, checked the filth on their clothes, and leaned in to smell their breath while pretending to listen closely.
[I see.]
Only now did Namgung Un understand why Bu Eunseol had prepared so meticulously before entering the headquarters.
[He checked everything from our breath to our gait to confirm we’re real beggars.]
[Exactly. The Beggars’ Sect handles the most information among the righteous factions. They may seem lax, but their security is thorough,] Bu Eunseol sent.
[So, unless you’re a real beggar, you can’t enter the headquarters.]
Namgung Un nodded. The Beggars’ Sect, the top intelligence organization of the righteous factions, might seem like a group of beggars casually gathering rumors. But in reality, they had found a way to systematically and accurately manage their vast numbers—by leveraging their beggar identity.
[The Beggars’ Sect… truly a formidable place,] Namgung Un muttered.
As he did, Bu Eunseol arrived at a large cave to the west of the headquarters—Zhangbang Cave, where injured beggars were treated. Though called a “cave,” it was actually a proper building. Likely due to the sect’s history of living under bridges or in caves, even fine structures were named as such.
“Ugh,” Bu Eunseol groaned deliberately as he entered.
Inside was a space over three hundred pyeong, filled with tightly packed wooden beds. Five or six Third Knot disciples were tending to the injured.
“Beaten up, huh? His leg muscles are badly twisted,” a Third Knot disciple said, frowning as he examined Namgung Un’s appearance.
‘A First Knot disciple. Can’t even manage a knot,’ he thought, clicking his tongue inwardly before pulling out a pill. “Apply this. It’ll ease the pain a bit.”
What he offered was a cheap Baekjeol Ointment made from common forest herbs. Though effective for bruises, it was useless for such severe injuries—a superficial gesture.
“Can’t we lie down here?” Bu Eunseol asked.
The Third Knot disciple scowled. “It’s a wound that’ll heal with a few days’ rest anyway. Lying here won’t fix it.”
Zhangbang Cave offered three proper meals a day. The Third Knot disciple, assuming Bu Eunseol was after the food, waved his hand dismissively. “Apply the ointment well and rest in a sunny spot. That’ll help.”
Though the Beggars’ Sect was wealthy, its benefits didn’t extend to First Knot disciples. Bu Eunseol clasped his hands as if resigned. “Thank you, sir.”
He took Namgung Un outside, and after looking around for a while, settled under a large tree, spreading out a mat. He carefully applied the Baekjeol Ointment to Namgung Un’s leg and surveyed their surroundings.
‘It’s a similar situation.’
Around Zhangbang Cave, beggars who appeared to be First Knot disciples were lying down, resting. Unless one was a Second Knot disciple or higher learning martial arts, they couldn’t even lie inside the cave. Though told to rest, First Knot beggars couldn’t afford to leisurely occupy a spot.
[How’s it feeling?] Bu Eunseol sent.
[It really hurt at first, but it’s fine now,] Namgung Un replied.
When Bu Eunseol had applied the Bone-Breaking Muscle-Twisting Technique, misaligning his knee and ankle joints, the pain had felt like the heavens splitting apart. Foaming at the mouth as they entered wasn’t an act—it was real. But as Bu Eunseol applied the ointment, the pain completely subsided—not due to the ointment’s efficacy, but because Bu Eunseol had realigned the joints while applying it. Still, his ankle and knee remained swollen, forcing him to limp for a while.
“Let’s rest here for half a day,” Bu Eunseol said aloud, lying down beside Namgung Un.
In the headquarters, beggars lying around and resting weren’t questioned. But Bu Eunseol’s reason for lying there was to make an impression on passing beggars. No matter how many beggars there were, a new face would stand out. By blending naturally into the headquarters’ scenery, others would think, ‘I’ve seen those guys somewhere.’
But the world doesn’t always go as planned, even for Bu Eunseol.
Step, step.
Footsteps approached, and dozens of beggars walked toward the tree where Bu Eunseol was resting. Leading them were a middle-aged beggar and a charming female beggar.
Namgung Un instinctively looked their way as the group moved.
‘Oh no.’
Bu Eunseol inwardly gasped. Though Namgung Un looked the part of a perfect beggar, he hadn’t concealed one thing: his gaze. As the female beggar passed, Namgung Un had cast a curious glance.
Halt.
The middle-aged beggar stopped, looking at Bu Eunseol and Namgung Un. His eyes, filled with wisdom and radiating profound inner power, scanned them. He was Haepung, the Deputy Leader of the Beggars’ Sect, with whom Bu Eunseol had once joined hands.
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