Chapter 20: Accumulate Good Karma
The Central Plains were cruel to the weak.
The unorthodox sect bastards, those beasts in human skin, extorted the common people every single day, while the hypocritical righteous sect bastards siphoned off a portion of their income under the guise of protection fees.
If you were weak, you’d get your nose cut off right in front of your eyes—such was the world of Murim.
That’s why the original purpose behind the founding of the Hao Sect was for the bottom-dwellers to band together and protect one another.
Hao Sect followers who had tried to unite their strength to block the exploitation of the powerful and enhance their own rights.
Perhaps thanks to the talents of the First Sect Leader, who had outstanding ability, the Hao Sect soon began to demonstrate exceptional skill in processing and selling information.
Before long, it had transformed into a covert intelligence organization on par with the Beggars’ Union.
Once they gained the cooperation of certain martial masters for some unknown reason, the Hao Sect expanded with the speed of wings sprouting.
But such rapid growth also came with side effects.
The original meaning of mutual protection had vanished, and before they knew it, the Hao Sect had become just another greedy force like the powerful factions they once opposed.
There were instances where branch factions fought bloody battles over profit, or even sucked the lifeblood out of fellow lowborns, forgetting their founding purpose.
As these internal conflicts grew and serious disputes continued, the Second Sect Leader, Hong Gakjan, finally drew his blade and stepped forward.
What he cried for was a return to the beginning.
Hong Gakjan insisted on reviving the original purpose of the First Sect Leader.
But even he overlooked one crucial truth—that once humans tasted the allure of money, it was difficult to go back.
Greed, that demonic spirit, muddles the mind. Even the richest of the rich today still claw desperately for one more penny.
Simply put, if people never had something to begin with, they wouldn’t care. But take it away after giving it, and they’ll go berserk.
So discontent with the Sect Leader’s unilateral decision accumulated, and on the day of the coup instigated by someone’s agitation, the Second Sect Leader ended up becoming the “former” Sect Leader.
“Thanks to that, I was able to become the Hao Sect Leader.”
The new Sect Leader, Black Diagnosis Bird, slowly ran his hand across the paulownia desk once used by Hong Gakjan.
How much effort had he put into claiming this office?
For an ordinary member of the Hao Sect, the highest position they could claw their way up to was Vice-Sect Leader.
So I had licked the feet of the Sect Leader’s family like a dog.
Hong Gakjan, of course, and even that annoying bastard who was said to know all the knowledge in the world—I flattered them all.
Then, biding my time quietly, I eventually succeeded in purging “most” of the Sect Leader’s family.
I had seized wealth, power—everything within the Hao Sect.
But even in that successful coup, there remained one glaring issue.
“Sect Leader Black Diagnosis Bird, just to be sure... you are keeping the Hao Sect’s official seal safe, yes?”
That sacred object passed down through the generations, the symbol of the Sect Leader—the official seal—had been stolen by a damn brat.
Black Diagnosis Bird silently looked at Il Hyehyang, the Floor Manager of Honghwa Brothel and Head of the Mysterious Pavilion, who had asked about the seal.
“Of course.”
“Then may I see it? As you know, it’s an extremely important item for the sect.”
“It is important. That’s why I’m keeping it securely in a place no one knows about.”
In Murim, if you’re useful and rich but weak? You’ll be devoured instantly. That’s the fate of a toothless tiger.
That’s why, for both martial artists and martial sects, independence requires enough personal power that no one would dare touch you.
For the Hao Sect, that power came in the form of two mysterious martial masters—Upper Spirit and Lower Spirit.
Bound by a mysterious pact with the First Sect Leader, they were beings who would grant any request as long as you presented the official seal.
But without the seal, no matter what you tried, you couldn’t command them.
Which made it all the more unsettling. If that runaway brat somehow found them and asked for revenge…
“I see. There’ve been strange rumors going around the Hao Sect that no one can confirm the seal’s location... so I thought I’d check.”
Il Hyehyang narrowed her eyes like a fox catching a scent and spoke.
This was the situation Black Diagnosis Bird found himself in. His foundation was soft and unstable.
Surrounded by people thinking, “If that bastard can be Sect Leader, why not me?”
That was why he needed the seal, more than anyone—just like the imperial seal that granted legitimacy during the Three Kingdoms period.
“Oh, speaking of rumors, I heard something amusing recently… They say you have a hidden child?”
Il Hyehyang’s sly fox face instantly crumpled.
“That’s just some made-up garbage from street urchins…! It’s absolutely not true!”
She leapt up like someone had touched her reverse scale.
“Hmm, is it really made-up? You’ve been spending a lot more time with the Head of the Shadow Pavilion lately.”
Due to the covert nature of their work, close relations between division heads were strictly forbidden.
Getting caught meant resigning from the post.
“...It seems there’s been some misunderstanding. In any case, if the seal is safe, I’ll take my leave.”
The Floor Manager of Honghwa Brothel hurriedly exited the office in a flustered rush.
Luckily, the topic shift seemed to have helped pass the crisis—perhaps this was the true power of information.
But unless he actually showed the sacred object, suspicion would only intensify over time.
Therefore, he had to recover the official seal once held by the former Sect Leader—no matter what.
“Where the hell are you, you damn brat…”
A prodigy once called the Hao Sect’s successor, one who never forgot anything he read and completed the Hao Sect’s heir training faster than anyone.
But in the end, he was nothing more than a greenhorn with no experience in Murim.
Thinking he’d be found soon, I sent people all over—but still no word.
With that small body, he couldn’t have gone far.
Clatter, clatter.
Black Diagnosis Bird fiddled with the dagger he used to stab the former Sect Leader atop his desk.
He once called me Uncle Jinjo and acted all friendly—but my principle was to never leave behind future trouble under any circumstance.
“Go on and follow your father now, you little bastard.”
I had no intention of repeating the former Sect Leader’s mistakes.
With dagger in hand, he wore a chilling expression.
There’s a particular trait that kids from orphanages share.
Lacking anything they could call “family,” they developed strong bonds with one another.
So if a fellow orphanage kid came home beaten up? That meant war that very day.
Under my lead, everyone’s eyes would roll back as we charged out.
“Um Baek, you son of a bitch!”
Of course, the kids I met in the beggar pit weren’t quite like that, but I’d still fed and raised them for a while.
And right now, they were basically walking bundles of good karma, yet that bastard Um Baek had barged in and was wrecking everything.
I let out angry snorts—shiiik-shiiik—as I sprinted down a familiar alley.
With a tap of inner energy from my toes, I unfolded the Whirlwind Steps and my body shot forward.
All that pain learning had finally paid off. The scenery whizzed by like I was riding a bike.
A pungent stench hit my nose. Vomit dried on the ground, spilled by drunks.
A shadowed zone of society where law and order simply didn’t exist.
“Aaagh!”
“You motherfucking Um Baek bastard! This is our turf!”
There, the big and strong beggars were oppressing the smaller, weaker ones by brute force.
“Clear out, you little brats!”
“Begging around here again? Are you that desperate to die?!”
My kids rolled on the dirt and screamed as they charged in, but they were being completely overpowered by Um Baek’s gang, whose builds were nearly adult-sized.
As Dragon Head Sect Leader Hwang Geolgae once said, brats should fight brats, and adults should fight adults—that was the beggar’s code.
But what, a bunch of fully grown bastards were ganging up to beat on little kids?
That was the moment even the beggar’s code, no—Murim’s morals—hit rock bottom.
“You sons of bitches!”
I unleashed a thunderous roar, powered by my three years of deep internal energy.
The brawl between the kids stopped dead at the intruder’s shout, which could burst eardrums.
“The fuck are you, brat?”
A voice laced with annoyance flew at me. Um Baek’s gang was demanding my identity.
Before I could answer, the kids on our side who recognized my face beat them to it.
“…Huh? That’s the boss who got caught by the perverted old man!”
“How’d he come back? Did he escape?”
“Anyway, since the boss is back… you guys are fucked now!”
That’s right, I had returned to the beggar pit.
The kids’ faces lit up. The battlefield’s mood flipped just with my appearance.
“Pretty boy face and a boss…? So you’re that famous Dan Mujin brat?”
The voice was full of rage. A huge thug with a protruding belly and a snake tattoo stepped into view.
“And judging by your fucked-up face, you must be Um Baek.”
On Earth, he would’ve looked like a “tattooed pork broth pig.”
Um Baek, the head thug, seemed provoked by my taunt and glared at me like he wanted to kill.
“You little shit… I’ll personally break your limbs.”
Then he’d wreck my pretty face and sell me off to some pervert.
“But hey, Hyungnim, is it really okay for a Murim man to cripple civilian kids?”
One of Um Baek’s lackeys asked that.
As we could tell from those two Third-class Escorts who once felt ashamed, Murim men fighting civilians was considered disgraceful to the extreme.
“Heh, like I give a shit. These brats’ll be so messed up they won’t even be able to speak.”
But Um Baek wasn’t the type to care about that.
He shook his tadpole-like belly fat and boasted he’d smash them all to pieces.
“Come.”
I spread the internal energy I’d drawn up using the Starfall Heart Cultivation Method throughout my body. A fierce yet pure and forceful energy pulsed through every meridian.
“Crush him!”
I saw Um Baek’s gang charging with a roar.
They weren’t trying to help the poor orphan kids—they were scavengers itching to tear them apart.
I planted both feet firmly on the ground and assumed the stance I’d learned through bloody beatings: the form of the Hundred-Knot Divine Fist.
“Hoo.”
It was time for judgment.
A fight between a boy his age and young men a head taller.
At first, Ochil thought he was hallucinating.
Whack!
“Guh!”
Crack!
“Ack!”
A boy who hadn’t even reached the age of academic initiation.
But with each powered strike of his fists and feet, the ones flying back screaming were Um Baek’s gang.
With a kick of the ground, Dan Mujin’s form darted forward like a hail of arrows.
A small yet firm fist slammed square into the face of one of Um Baek’s thugs.
His nose caved in, and he flew back like a ragdoll.
“The fuck! Who is this brat?!”
“What the hell’s with his movements…?!”
Shouts laced with confusion. A beggar the size of an adult swung a club violently.
Instead of dodging, Dan Mujin boldly stepped in, shoved the handle with his shoulder, and sent a punch flying like lightning with his right fist.
“Ggh!”
The beggar’s jaw twisted violently.
Another thug dropped with a grunt.
Dan Mujin moved like a swallow on water.
His fists cut the wind crisply, and his legs moved brilliantly, slipping through the enemy’s gaps.
Wham! Wham! Whud!
Sometimes his fists rained down from above, and sometimes his kicks swept the ground.
He leaped over a fallen foe, using their back as a springboard, and landed a clean strike.
“Third Technique! Spinning Ring Kick!”
It was a windmill-like flurry of continuous attacks. The relentless fists and kicks left the beggars dazed and reeling.
With every sound of fists slamming into flesh, a thug who had rushed in screamed and fell.
Smack smack smack!
If he hit the shoulder, his knee followed. If it was the knee, a lightning-fast kick came next.
His legs glided across the battlefield and his arms unleashed an endless combo.
“What the….”
Witnessing it all up close, Ochil and the kids were speechless.
He used to rely purely on brute strength and endurance, but now his movements were entirely different.
He parried attacks with minimal motion and returned counterstrikes like an awl.
The kids had only seen that kind of fighting from “certain individuals” on the streets.
“…That’s martial arts!”
Ochil shouted in awe.
Um Baek’s gang dropped like flies the moment his fists touched them. His punches were short-range, yet air burst and a sound like drums echoed.
The process was the same as their own punches—but the results were worlds apart.
That had to mean internal energy was at play.
Had he obtained a miraculous encounter somewhere? The kids watched the fight with jaws agape.
“Cowardly bastard! A Murim man interfering in a beggars’ brawl?!”
Realizing the truth, Um Baek shouted at the top of his lungs as if appealing to justice.
“Bullshit! You’ve got a damn nerve saying that, you motherfucker!”
Dan Mujin shouted back without flinching. His roar, charged with internal energy, made Um Baek’s beggars flinch and tremble.
His frame may have been small, but the pressure he exuded was that of a mountain lord.
“Screw this! Um Baek, time for your beating!”
My fists were weeping, demanding to smash that bastard.
As Dan Mujin closed the distance in an instant with ghostly footwork, Um Baek flinched and flailed his fists in panic.
He had some power, probably from half-assed martial arts training, but maybe because I’d been beaten so often by Hwang Noya, his strikes felt pathetically slow.
Tak, tak!
I grabbed the outstretched wrist, twisted it, and drove a straight punch into the exposed face.
“Guh!”
The bastard’s head jerked back, spraying nosebleed like thread veins, then snapped back toward me.
His face was stained with blood and rage. A fist, filled with killing intent, came crashing down at Dan Mujin’s crown.
Having been hit so much, Dan Mujin dodged out of habit. He slightly tilted his head, avoiding it by a paper-thin margin, then launched a punch upward like a cannonball, fueled by the power of his waist.
Um Baek tried to defend, gasping in panic, but Dan Mujin’s fist, curving strangely like a snake, smashed into his jaw.
Crack!
“Gk?!”
Um Baek’s jaw clamped shut as both feet floated about four inches off the ground.
A peculiar movement—this was the Hundred-Knot Divine Fist’s fourth technique: Spinning Ring Fist.
It was a skill learned the hard way from getting beaten directly dozens of times by Hwang Geolgae.
If not for the durability of the Heaven-Slaying Star, his brain would’ve already been rattled into mush.
“Ggh.”
Um Baek collapsed on the spot, spraying twin fountains of blood from his nostrils.
He thudded to the ground, right in front of his lackeys who had been following behind.
Thump.
He kept trying to act tough, so I wondered how strong he was—but he turned out to be just another dime-a-dozen third-rate punk.
Of course, even that was enough to reign in fear among civilian kids.
“U-Um Baek boss…!”
The biggest thug, who had ruled over the group through fear, fell so pitifully that the gang was shaken.
Um Baek’s gang’s morale broke completely.
“Eek!”
Meeting Dan Mujin’s cold gaze made them shrink back involuntarily.
Seeing Um Baek fall in less than ten seconds, the gang began to disband on their own, intimidated by a kid half their size.
“Uwaaa!”
“What kind of monster kid is that?!”
“R-run!”
As always, they were absurdly quick when it came to running away. Like receding tides, Um Baek’s gang scattered down the alley and vanished.
“There they go again, running and leaving their own behind.”
As expected, they didn’t care for their fallen comrade.
And so, Um Baek the boss, abandoned by all.
Should’ve built some karmic virtue while you had the chance. My kids came running even if an old master showed up.
“Hey! See? Told you we’d win once the boss came!”
“Uwooooh!”
The Mujin gang’s kids cheered with bruised eyes and blue eyelids.
The victorious roar echoed through the beggar pit in one corner of Beijing.
“Boss! What the hell happened to you while you were gone?!”
Ochil ran up quickly, grabbing my shoulders and bombarding me with questions.
“A lot happened.”
Too complicated to explain.
Would they even believe me if I told them?
“Boss, that was martial arts, right?”
“How’d you get so strong? What’s the secret?”
The kids pelted me with questions, celebrating the return of their hero.
“Accumulate good karma.”
I simply answered their question, but my response sounded so enlightened it made them tilt their heads in confusion.
“Good karma? Like doing good deeds?”
“What’s the point when we don’t even have food to eat?”
“Boss got kinda weird.”
Yeah, no kidding.
You can only give when you have something. As expected of the kids who followed me—they were sharp.
Such were Dan Mujin’s thoughts.
“Hey, where’s Ilhong?”
One kid was missing. Just like the Escorts said.
“That bastard sold him off to some shady Black Path guy.”
Ochil pointed at the collapsed Um Baek as he said this.
“…Why?”
Throwing someone out of this zone was one thing, but kidnapping?
“Don’t know, but it looked like they only took pretty boys.”
Ochil shrugged, then added that with a face like mine, I might get taken too.
“Goddamn.”
What the hell. Did they recognize the value of flower beggars who could rake in cash?
Or maybe his face really was pretty enough to be sold off to some pervert?
Whatever. If he was taken, I just had to bring him back.
“Alright, I’ll go get him.”
He’d wandered the streets begging without even parents, and now he was kidnapped by some lowlife pervert.
Poor kid. But think about how much good karma I’d build by saving him.
“But boss, how would you know where he is?”
That was Ochil’s question, who’d only seen him get taken.
“The guy who handed him over is right here.”
I gathered inner energy into my palm and slapped the cheek of the unconscious Um Baek.
Smack!
It was a crude imitation of the forehead flicks Hwang Geolgae used to give me.
“Guh, gahhk. Wh-What the hell…?”
Um Baek jolted awake like someone splashed cold water on him mid-nap.
Nice. This works.
“Hey, be a guide. To the kid you handed over.”
I shoved my fist right in front of his face.
Waking up to find his lackeys had all abandoned him.
“…F-Fine.”
It didn’t take him long to decide.
The whole world was pitch black.
For a moment, Ilhong thought he was dead. But no, he wasn’t.
The places where Um Baek’s gang had beaten him still ached.
They probably blindfolded him with cloth or something.
Ilhong squirmed like a caterpillar. He soon realized both his arms and legs were tied with what felt like rope.
‘I can break out of this easily.’
A normal kid would’ve given up there, but Ilhong had absorbed all the education of the Hao Sect—a remarkable child.
Thuk.
He tucked his elbows close to his sides. Then, by stretching both arms forward, he created a gap in the rope.
Quickly rubbing his palms together, he slipped one hand free. Then removed the blindfold that covered his vision.
“Huh.”
It was a shabby-looking warehouse.
And he soon realized he wasn’t the only one brought here.
About thirty kids, tied up like him, were scattered throughout the warehouse.
They all shared a similar look. Small builds, around his age, pale skin, and an air of never having suffered.
It was like someone was abducting random kids of similar appearance, as if searching for someone.
“No way…”
A thought naturally came to Ilhong’s mind.
The one they were desperately searching for with hired thugs…
“…Could it be me?”
A sinking feeling of dread hit him.