The Return of the Crazy Demon-Chapter 232: The Beggar and I

If we exclude the Beggars’ Sect Leader—one of the Three Calamities—then Noshin was undoubtedly the fastest man in the Beggars’ Sect.

Catching up to him wasn’t easy.

To make matters worse, the weight of the Sect Leader on my back kept shifting, making it even harder to run.

But as time passed...

Noshin, who had been messing around earlier, went silent, and even the Sect Leader didn’t say a word.

I had no choice but to focus entirely on my light footwork.

After a while, as I felt the erratic shifts in the Sect Leader’s weight, I was reminded of the White-Robed Scholar’s Jeunjong.

Hm?

That guy also ran while bending forward slightly, adjusting the heaviness and lightness of his own body.

How does one even control their own weight?

Impossible for ordinary people—but as martial artists, the first thing that came to mind was internal energy.

With the Sect Leader still on my back, I had to lean forward slightly. At some point, I found myself naturally counterbalancing his shifting weight and maintaining my pace.

When he became lighter, I leapt farther. When his heaviness forced me down, I channeled internal energy into my legs to rise again. In other words, the Sect Leader’s changing weight had forced me to mimic Jeunjong-like movement in real-time.

Eventually, the Sect Leader spoke.

“You’ve adapted to the weight. This is something you learn through your body—it’s not easy. Keep running until you’re exhausted. Even if you collapse, it’s fine. If your body remembers it, you’ll be able to do it alone next time.”

“Understood.”

To be honest, when he got heavier, it felt like I had an iron boulder strapped to my back. To endure it, I had to inject inner energy into my legs appropriately.

The weight was so punishing that sweat poured from my body like rain. But not just me—both the Sect Leader and Noshin were completely serious, so I couldn’t complain aloud.

And so I ran, carrying that massive iron lump, nonstop for over two whole hours.

Because Noshin was fast, I had to run at full speed too. Already exhausted, I pushed myself another two hours—and by then, the sun was dipping below the horizon.

I’m going to lose my mind.

At this point, I didn’t even care where we were going.

Whether we ran to the East Sea or some place I’d never been before, the destination didn’t matter.

The goal of gaining legs of steel mattered more than the destination. If this training deepened my understanding of light footwork and ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) made me faster, I was ready to run all night.

I kept running until the sun disappeared and darkness fully settled in. Just then, in the pitch black, I heard the Sect Leader’s voice.

“Not hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

“Well, we’re not. Let’s eat.”

He’d said that to me, but Noshin, running ahead, responded.

“Yes, Master. Shall we get some noodles?”

“Let’s.”

A little while later, Noshin stopped near a bustling district glowing with lantern light, and the Sect Leader finally got off my back.

I tried to keep my composure, but as soon as that weight lifted, I staggered. The Sect Leader caught my arm and said,

“...Stubborn, aren’t you? You held out well.”

I nodded, trying to catch my breath.

Noshin came over and said,

“Your internal energy and stamina are solid. In terms of endurance and speed, you’d be unmatched among your peers. Any other takeaways?”

The Sect Leader nodded at me.

“Looks like he grasped something.”

Noshin clapped my shoulder.

“You did well. Carrying Master like that while running is no easy feat. You’re drenched in sweat. The principle of adding weight isn’t limited to light footwork. It applies to attack and defense too. It can serve as self-defense or be used to blast an enemy with minimal motion. How do you think that’s possible?”

I thought over his question, then replied,

“A combination of internal and external techniques?”

Noshin nodded.

“Exactly. In Jianghu, there are plenty of folks who only rely on one or the other, and still think they’re masters. Of course, there are plenty who blend the two well. But that’s not the end of it. When your inner and outer energies—like your Sun-Moon Radiance—merge seamlessly inside your body, the resulting explosiveness goes beyond expectation. That’s no shallow martial theory. And no one can teach it to you. Remember the feeling well.”

“Confirmed.” 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

“You’re sweating like a pig.”

I looked at Noshin while feeling steam rising from my face and hair. He, on the other hand, didn’t have a single bead of sweat.

Wiping my forehead, I replied,

“It’s hot today.”

“Not at all. You’re the only one sweating, Lord. Hahaha.”

Noshin led the way into the bustling streets, and the Sect Leader and I followed behind. Since I was tagging along with beggars, I offered first.

“My treat. Let’s find a good place.”

Noshin scoffed.

“What, were you planning to get treated by a beggar?”

The Sect Leader let out a snort of laughter as well.

***

I was ready to treat them to a grand meal, but we ended up in a shabby noodle joint. I raised my hand to order, but Noshin pushed it down.

“They only serve noodles. What are you ordering? There’s not even booze here.”

“Ah.”

Before I could even be surprised, a man with his sleeves rolled up emerged from the back carrying a giant bowl of noodles and set it on our table. He smiled faintly without saying anything, then returned to the kitchen. Judging from his arms and back, he was a martial artist who’d trained in external techniques.

Noshin said,

“Master, let’s eat.”

“Yeah.”

The three of us picked up chopsticks and dug in. I didn’t know how they made it, but the noodles—and the broth—were refreshing. The portion was easily three times that of a normal shop, and the clear broth had almost no flavor. It was like dipping noodles in plain tea—mild and clean. It left no aftertaste, but that’s what made it so refreshing.

At a regular shop, I’d eat two or three bowls, but this one bowl filled me up.

We finished everything, even the broth.

As I pulled out my coin pouch, Noshin stood, walked into the kitchen, and chatted with the owner while handing him the money. Laughter burst out a few times before the man poked his head out.

“Take care, Sect Leader.”

“Thanks.”

The owner looked at me and nodded slightly.

“Come again.”

The taste stuck with me, so I replied at once.

“I will.”

Outside, I asked Noshin,

“Is he with the Beggars’ Sect?”

“No. He turned his back on Jianghu.”

“Was he famous?”

Noshin turned to the Sect Leader.

“Was he known?”

The Sect Leader nodded.

“He was, once. But now no one seeks him out, which is how he prefers it. Leave him be. His noodles keep getting better. How about you, Lord? What did you think?”

“I’ve never had noodles like that.”

“In what way?”

“Normally, you add things to create flavor. But these noodles stripped away everything unnecessary and created taste that way. Exactly what I’d expect from a retired martial artist.”

“You enjoyed them.”

We were crossing a bridge bustling with foot traffic as we talked. Suddenly, in the middle of the bridge, the Sect Leader leaned against the railing and plopped down.

He looked just like a beggar preparing to panhandle.

Noshin said,

“I’ll look around.”

“Go ahead.”

I sat beside the Sect Leader and echoed him.

“Go ahead.”

Sitting on a bridge next to the Grandmaster of the Beggars’ Sect, I began to feel like a noble-hearted beggar myself.

The Sect Leader watched people pass.

I had nothing else to do, so I did the same. It was a rare moment of rest. Apparently, the Sect Leader wasn’t famous in this area, because no one acknowledged him.

Then he spoke.

“Zaha, let me tell you how the Beggars’ Sect began.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It goes way back. Stories vary, but the broad strokes are the same. Long ago, there were beggars who survived by begging due to physical disabilities. No matter how much people helped them, they always looked hungry and miserable.”

“I see.”

“One day, a man who had helped them a few times grew suspicious. He followed some of them, only to find that they were turning over all their earnings to someone else. That person wasn’t disabled—he was using them to make money. The man who discovered this beat that bastard to death and protected the beggars. That man became the first Sect Leader of the Beggars’ Sect. No rules, no formal sect—just one man’s concern for beggars birthed our order. He once said this.”

“What did he say?”

‘Human cruelty is fully present even toward the weakest.’ The bastard he beat to death didn’t even know martial arts, but he was squeezing blood from people even weaker than him. The Beggars’ Sect wasn’t founded by beggars—it was started by a man who wanted to help them. He found there were plenty of others in the same suffering.”

“I understand.”

“One man stepped into the world of beggars. In some places, martial artists used beggars like slaves. Elsewhere, common thugs threw leftover scraps at them and forced them to beg. The law was fragile back then. The first Sect Leader roamed the land, killing men like that. Along the way, he took on disciples, and those disciples took their own. That’s how the Beggars’ Sect came to be.”

Shin Gae looked at the passing crowd and said,

“What happened among beggars reflects the world at large. I don’t think your Haomun is much different from how we began. That’s why I came to see you. I only got interested because you wiped out a Demon Cult force.”

Only then did I realize why one of the Three Calamities had come to find me personally.

Then he asked me,

“Zaha, how long have we been sitting here?”

“About an hour, maybe?”

“No one’s given us a coin. Normally, when I sit on a bridge like this, I get quite a few offerings. Why do you think that is?”

Then I remembered: when the Sect Leader appeared in Ilyang, his presence had felt oddly subdued. So the reason we weren’t getting any alms now was likely...

“Because of my killing intent?”

He nodded.

“Probably. Your bloodlust, your gaze, your presence—they make people think you don’t need alms.”

“Is that... also a type of martial technique?”

“It’s a state of mind and a method of concealing qi. To receive alms, you must erase your presence. It’s not quite like a killer hiding their qi—it’s different. You’ve been running all day and look like a mess. Want to try begging?”

The beggar general had just invited me to beg.

“I’ll try it.”

He stood and crossed to the opposite railing, sitting down. Then he looked at me.

I adjusted my collar, drew my knees in, wrapped my arms around them, and tried to mimic a beggar as best I could.

Another hour passed.

No one gave me a thing.

Meanwhile, the Sect Leader—one of the Three Calamities—received the occasional iron coin or a few dumplings in a cloth pouch.

Each time, he simply gave a small, wordless smile to the donor.

“......”

I gave up and stared at the Sect Leader.

How could one of the Three Calamities receive alms?

How could he sit there on the bridge with zero presence?

Why didn’t anyone sense his existence?

Each time he met my eyes from across the bridge, he gave me a small, amused smile.

“Zaha.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not easy, is it?”

I smiled back and said,

“It’s not easy at all.”