Chapter 177: Are You Acquainted With This Beggar?

Jo Hakche, who had been standing his ground against the women, guarding the alley with dignity, stared in astonishment.

Peng Daesan had appeared, lifting Qing effortlessly into his arms.

Of course, the women shrieked as well.

“Brother?” Peng Choryeo called out, bewildered. “Why are you carrying her out so preciously? Was she that good?”

Peng Daesan grinned and replied, his words aimed less at Jo Hakche and more at the chorus of wailing women who were practically creating a sea of tears. Even the populace mourning the Dear Leader back in Qing's homeland probably hadn't been this sorrowful.

“It was absolute paradise,” Peng Daesan announced loudly. “I’ve realized it now – dirty, smelly beggar girls are my type. I plan to get a room and enjoy myself all night long. If she agrees, I might even take her as my wife.”

Qing burrowed her face into his shoulder, pretending to be shy, and whispered right into his ear.

-What was that? Dirty, smelly beggar girl? A person can miss a bath sometimes, you know. Did you really have to rub it in like that? Yes or no?

Peng Daesan pretended not to hear.

With Peng Daesan’s shocking revelation of his preferences, hell descended upon the middle of the city. Mainly in an auditory sense. If you gathered all the sounds of eternally burning sinners weeping, screaming, lamenting, and cursing, it would sound exactly like the cacophony erupting right now.

On top of that, women were fainting left and right. Some, deeply shocked, even started showing seizure-like symptoms, thrashing about like epileptics.

Peng Daesan listened, watched, and felt the screams and collapsing figures, thoroughly enjoying it. A genuinely refreshing smile spread across his face. It was an incredibly cathartic sight, washing away a bit of his lifelong resentment.

Seeing that relieved smile, Jo Hakche smacked his lips thoughtfully.

“Well then, can’t be helped,” Jo Hakche said with an air of magnanimity. “I can’t be the wicked older brother who covets his sister-in-law, can I? Hmm. Have a pleasant time. And you, miss,” he added, addressing the figure in Peng Daesan’s arms, “hmm, Peng my brother must have been clumsy since it was his first time, but he’ll follow your lead well if you teach him, so don’t find him frustrating and please enjoy a delightful session of cloud and rain pleasure— Hey! Is this brat trying to kick his brother!?”

“Please, stop talking utter nonsense,” Peng Daesan hissed through gritted teeth. “Seriously.”

Qing’s eyes flashed. How could she not react after hearing that?

-Aha. A virgin, pure as the driven snow, are we? Our San-ie was completely innocent? Ooh, San-ie who guarded his chastity. High praise. Wonderful. The best. Pure San, yes, maybe we should change your moniker now? How about Pure Adept? Too blatant? Then Virgin Adept? Chaste Adept? Innocent Adept?

Peng Daesan clenched his jaw. Deep, belated regret washed over him.

Right, this is the kind of woman she was.

Why had he insisted on catching her instead of just telling her they'd meet later at the Murim Conference? Why had he brought this humiliation upon himself?

-If you don’t like Adept, how about Dao Adept? Hmm, sounds like you’d be into gambling, so yeah, how about Dao King? Pure Dao King? Virgin Dao King? Chaste Dao King? Innocent Dao King? Just say the word, I’ll shout it loud and clear and make sure you get a cool new moniker, bam!

“Stop it,” Peng Daesan growled.

-Staaahp it. There he goes, lowering his voice again. Right, should we add low voice too? Pure Low-Voiced Peng Daesan? Low-Voiced Virgin… Ooh, isn’t Low-Voiced Virgin good?

Peng Daesan ground his teeth so hard they nearly cracked.

After that, he pushed through the chaotic scene, entered the inn, and got a room.

Inside the inn room with Peng Daesan, Qing soaked a towel in hot water, wrung it out roughly, and began scrubbing her face with enough force to make scraping sounds. She tossed the dirty towel into a discard pail and picked up the next one. This was the proper bathing procedure: first, wipe away the worst of the grime with wet towels, then soak in the bathtub.

“Wow, refreshing,” Qing sighed contentedly. “When is the bathwater coming? Whoa, my heart’s pounding just thinking about bathing after so long. This is why I don’t wash often.”

“What kind of dogshit reasoning is that?” Peng Daesan retorted, utterly baffled.

“Why? Washing after not washing for ages feels absolutely amazing, you know?” Qing explained enthusiastically. “Especially washing my hair. When it’s all grimy and you pour hot water over it, lather it up, and gently scratch your scalp… Whoa, seriously, phew. My legs instantly go weak, and this tingle shoots up from the back of my knees… whoa, really, that pleasure… there’s no need for men and women to copulate. Washing just once a month is totally satisfying.”

“……What utter dogshit are you talking about?” Peng Daesan repeated, disturbed. “Do you normally go around without washing?”

“If I get the chance to wash, I wash?” Qing replied casually.

The implication was clear: if the opportunity didn’t present itself, she wouldn’t go out of her way to create one. It was intimate information Peng Daesan had absolutely no desire to know.

He frowned. “I don’t understand. Can people even sleep without washing? The thought of the bed getting dirty is just… ugh, horrifying.”

“Well, San-ie, you’re a young master, so you’ve probably always had the chance to wash,” Qing pointed out. “And hey, if I could just strip off my top by a well, cover my bottom half, and splash water on myself, I’d do that too.”

Qing continued her ministrations as she spoke. The inn staff, having seen the Flower Beggar, had piled up a veritable mountain of towels for her. She wiped her hands, arms, feet, and neck, tossing soiled towels one after another into the growing pile in the discard pail.

“Ah. I’m going to wash my torso now, so could you turn around?” she asked. “No, wait, should I turn?”

“I’ll turn,” Peng Daesan said quickly, swiveling his chair to face the wall.

Then, the sound reached his ears – the soft slither and rustle of fabric slipping off. In Qing’s homeland, a certain poet described this sound as that of snow falling and piling up; truth be told, for a man, there was no sound in the world more suggestive. For reference, the Central Plains, unlike modern times, lacked other media. It was an era where the only references were aesthetically pleasing but utterly non-arousing erotic art books.

Peng Daesan’s face flushed bright red.

However, the sound that followed quickly returned his complexion to normal.

“Kuaaah,” Qing groaned blissfully. “This freshness isn’t of this world. It’s totally otherworldly refreshment. Amazing, makes life worth living. This is why I live.”

“Why do you sound like some middle-aged man…” Peng Daesan muttered, still facing the wall.

“You gotta make sounds like this to feel alive, okay?” Qing shot back. “So what sounds do you make, San-ie? You wouldn’t say something like, ‘My reflection in the water is a work of art again today,’ would you?”

“I don’t particularly make any sounds.”

“Aww, boring.”

Simultaneously, Peng Daesan thought, What on earth is this tensionless conversation? How can she show absolutely no sign of apprehension while in a room with a man? How can she chat so comfortably just because my back is turned?

Of course, Peng Daesan knew the reason. She didn’t think of him as a man at all, seeing him as completely harmless. In fact, that was how he’d ended up associating with Qing. If she had shown even the slightest hint of romantic affection in the past, he would have recoiled in disgust and pushed her away.

Still, even so. How could she have absolutely no sense of danger? How could she trust a man enough to casually strip off her clothes in the same room in the perilous martial arts world? Peng Daesan himself didn’t care, of course. She wasn’t even like a woman, more of an honorary man, a friend he’d bonded with through pure friendship devoid of any, even the slightest, romantic feeling – practically like a friend of the same sex. But did being friends mean she’d blindly trust just anyone? Like that Sword Lunatic, for instance.

Peng Daesan didn’t realize his expression had hardened into a stiff mask. It was the exact expression that would make Peng Choryeo ask, “My dear brother, why are you so angry?”

“Do you normally just take off your clothes like that?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Huh? Usually, when I’m at the Divine Maiden Sect, yes?” Qing answered nonchalantly. “Sleeping with clothes on is uncomfortable, I can’t sleep well.” This was the answer from Qing, who had slept soundly all day long in beggar clothes.

Peng Daesan was dumbfounded. What kind of answer is that? But then again, the Divine Maiden Sect was a sanctuary forbidden to men, so perhaps women showing their bodies to each other wasn’t taboo. But uncomfortable sleeping with clothes on? So when she sleeps…

Suddenly, Qing’s aggrieved voice cut in. “What’s wrong? Why are you lowering your voice again?”

“I didn’t,” Peng Daesan snapped back, perhaps a little too quickly.

“It sounded a little lower.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Strange. It definitely dropped by about half a tone.”

Realizing this, Peng Daesan forced a twisted smile while facing the wall. “If I turned around now, I’d see everything, wouldn’t I?”

“Why the sudden grumpiness?” Qing asked, sounding genuinely confused. “Did I do something wrong? Hmm, hmm, that, uh, rumor about hooking up with a beggar… you seemed okay with it too. I guess I was a bit clueless. I’m really sorry…” She offered a crestfallen apology. She wouldn’t stand for injustice, but when she felt sorry, she was simply sorry – such was her straightforward nature.

Her words jolted Peng Daesan back to his senses. “No, it was a joke! Can’t I even make a joke?”

“What, it was a joke?” Qing sounded skeptical. “Since you seem to have a guilty conscience, it didn’t sound like one. Fine, I’ll take it as a joke too. San! Want to see my body? Have you finally awakened to the mysteries of the female form? Should I show you?”

“You shouldn’t say such things, even as a joke,” Peng Daesan reprimanded, serious again. “Where on earth do you learn such crude jokes?”

Qing, seemingly not falling for it this time, replied matter-of-factly. “You’re not playing along. The picture is, I provoke you, you turn around, and I’m wrapped in a blanket. So if you’re going to turn, give me a warning and count first. You gotta give me time to grab a blanket, right?”

Peng Daesan sighed, still facing the wall.

It was April, with spring in full bloom.

But for Gate Guard Wang of the city gate, spring felt cold, thanks to Guard Jo, who had come on duty with him.

“Damn bastard,” Wang grumbled. “My head still hurts because of you, shit. I could really use a bowl of cloudy wine.”

“The one who got fooled is the idiot,” Jo retorted. “Why would the Flower Beggar keep being a beggar after charging such high fees? She’d buy a brothel and live like a madam.”

“I heard you got fooled too, got beaten up, and ended up bawling, right?” Wang countered. “Guard Oh spilled everything.”

“Ahem,” Jo cleared his throat. “Still better than that bastard Oh.”

Guard Oh had apparently approached the Flower Beggar with only twenty wen and was beaten four times after being asked, “Did you think you could buy me with this?” Getting hit just once felt like dipping a foot in the underworld. Being beaten four times meant he’d been absent for a week, and his next month’s salary would be cut by more than half. Military law was strict; absences incurred not only the loss of that day’s wages but also a penalty fine one and a half times that amount.

“Ah, look over there!” Wang suddenly exclaimed. “Isn’t that the Flower Beggar?”

“I heard the Flower Beggar slept with the Jade Qilin yesterday, why is she coming from outside?” Jo wondered aloud. “But that height, those boobs… and three swords. Isn’t it the Flower Beggar?”

Since the sword thief incident, Qing had kept her paired swords and the Bokshinjeok wrapped in dirty cloth. To others, it looked like she was carrying three swords.

“Alright. Perfect timing,” Wang muttered darkly. “I’ll strip her naked with a thorough search and make her stand here all day… Oh, you’re not the Flower Beggar.”

“Oh my, it’s a celestial maiden!” Jo gasped. “A true fairy!”

As Qing drew closer, the gate guards changed their tune. Partly because she possessed the kind of world-toppling beauty depicted in paintings of fairies, and partly because she employed the graceful Ximen Surin-style beauty walking, every movement flowing with elegance.

Qing, about to pass through the gate with such refined steps, met the eyes of guards who were staring intently at her face, completely mesmerized.

Qing gave a slight nod in greeting and walked inside, disappearing from view.

Guard Wang, who had been standing there dumbfounded for a long while, suddenly leaned his spear against the gate.

“What, where are you going?” Jo asked.

“To the latrine,” Wang declared. “Can’t help it. Gotta go take care of business while her beauty is still fresh in my mind. What the— Hey! Jo!”

“Haha, I’m first! Kuhaha!” Jo crowed, already sprinting off.

This was the moment Ximen Qing, Outer Disciple of the Divine Maiden Sect, made her first (official) visit to Zhangwan City.