Volume One: The Carefree Journey Amid the Indistinguishable Paper Leaves Chapter Two: The Beggars’ Sect

Yang Ning could tell that Old Bark was an honest man—having been beaten into such a sorry state, he was content with a simple apology. Since even the victim didn’t care to pursue it, Yang Ning saw no need to dwell further.

He took a few steps toward Monkey. Monkey’s face changed drastically as Yang Ning approached, and he called out, enduring the pain, “I… I’ve already apologized. You said… you said you’d let it go!”

Pathetic, really. So fierce when throwing punches, but now, after losing an arm, all his bravado had vanished. Yang Ning didn’t waste words; he grabbed Monkey’s fractured arm, and before he’d done much, Monkey let out a scream fit for a slaughterhouse.

“Little Mink!” Old Bark cried out in alarm, and the other beggars, thinking quickly, turned to flee.

“Stop howling,” Yang Ning said, irritated. “I’m fixing your arm. If you keep screaming, I’ll make sure it’s useless for good.”

His mood was sour, and Monkey’s wails grated on him. Back in his training days, losing an arm was a common occurrence—he never felt the sky was falling.

Monkey, after all, was still a monkey—obedient enough. At Yang Ning’s words, he stifled his screams at once. Yang Ning tugged and twisted the arm a couple of times; Monkey’s forehead beaded with sweat, his face contorted in agony, and he made painful noises in his throat. Yang Ning withdrew his hand.

“Try moving it yourself,” Yang Ning said, already turning away and sitting heavily atop a pile of dry straw in the corner.

Monkey, half doubtful, gently rotated his arm. Though there was a lingering ache, the limb now moved freely.

The other beggars, who’d been ready to bolt, returned upon seeing this. Monkey suddenly knelt at Yang Ning’s feet, his voice fervent, “Little Mink, from now on… from now on, you’re our leader. We’ll follow you. If you tell us to go east, we’ll never go west!”

Yang Ning was a bit stunned; the monkey’s shift in allegiance was so abrupt it left him disoriented. To his surprise, the other beggars, seeing Monkey’s display, rushed forward and knelt in front of Yang Ning, echoing, “Little Mink, from now on you’re the boss of the Earth Temple. We’ll all listen to you.”

Yang Ning raised a hand. “Hold on, let me gather my thoughts.” He took a deep breath and asked, “This is Huize City, right? You’re all disciples of the Beggars’ Sect…”

“So are you!” Monkey insisted, demanding Yang Ning acknowledge their shared status.

Yang Ning glared at Monkey; he disliked being interrupted. “What dynasty is it now? And who is the emperor?”

The group exchanged confused glances—they hadn’t expected such lofty questions.

“Dynasty? Well… Huize City is a county in Chu. We should be… should be in the Chu dynasty,” Monkey said cautiously. “As for the emperor, we… we don’t know.”

A bead of cold sweat formed on Yang Ning’s brow, but he reasoned it through. If this really was the past, communication was primitive, and the emperor remained shrouded in mystery. There were no televised speeches, and common folk might truly not know who sat on the throne.

He pressed them further and, from their half-baked explanations, gleaned a rough outline.

He was called Little Mink—at least in this era, that was his peculiar name. Now he found himself in the northern part of Huainan Prefecture, in a small county town of Chu, hardly a peaceful place.

The county’s unrest stemmed from its proximity to the Huai River, just over a hundred li to the north. The river itself was unsettled, for years of war had raged along its banks.

Chu held the lands south of the Huai, but the north belonged to Han. The two nations faced off, north and south, eye to eye. According to the motley crew’s information, Chu, though based south of the river, had long controlled two counties north of it—like a dagger thrust into Northern Han’s belly. This threat kept Han sleepless, so three years ago, Han sent an army of two hundred thousand across the river.

Back and forth, the fighting lasted over two years. Smoke and chaos covered the banks, villages shattered, families scattered, refugees fleeing everywhere.

Huize City, barely a hundred li from the Huai, became one of the havens for those displaced. Fortunately, though Han’s soldiers once reached the south bank, their advance was repelled before reaching Huize. The city escaped the ravages of war.

Just a few months ago, the two nations called a ceasefire; the war along the Huai, nearly three years long, finally ended.

Though the fighting stopped, the refugees in Huize did not immediately depart. The small county town was now packed to overflowing.

Yang Ning had never imagined he’d someday cross worlds, let alone become a proud disciple of the Beggars’ Sect.

Born into an ordinary family, he worked tirelessly and became a military police officer, enduring rigorous training. After retiring, he took up business, building from nothing, and achieved modest success.

Just as he was about to enjoy the fruits of his labor, a drunken night’s sleep transformed him from a millionaire businessman into a beggar.

The trouble was, he had little memory of Little Mink’s past; though some fragmented images flickered in his mind, he couldn’t piece them together yet.

“Little Mink, with your skills, you’ll definitely achieve great things in the Beggars’ Sect,” Monkey said, grinning broadly after witnessing Little Mink’s prowess. “With your abilities, you’re already a top-notch master!”

Yang Ning wanted to ask Monkey if he had no shame. He didn’t deny his own skills, but to call himself a top master for knocking down a few weaklings—what did that make Monkey and his friends? If Yang Ning was top-tier, were these useless fellows still considered first-rate?

“Achieve great things in the Beggars’ Sect?” Still unfamiliar with everything, Yang Ning humbled himself and asked, “What would that be?”

“Still a beggar!” Monkey’s answer nearly made Yang Ning lash out again. “But maybe you could become the boss of Huize City!”

Yang Ning struggled to restrain his temper. “Since we’re in the Beggars’ Sect, do we have branches? And the sect leader—surely his surname isn’t Qiao?”

Before Monkey could reply, another chimed in, “We’re part of the Winged Fire Serpent branch—one of twenty-eight… a sub-branch.” Ignoring Monkey’s annoyed glare, he tried to impress Yang Ning. “The sect leader isn’t Qiao; I think… I think his surname is Xiang!”

“Do you know about the Dog-Beating Staff?” Yang Ning’s interest flickered. “You must’ve heard of the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms?”

The beggars exchanged blank looks and shook their heads, clearly baffled by Yang Ning’s references.

“Isn’t the Dog-Beating Staff the Beggars’ Sect’s treasure?” Yang Ning pressed. “You haven’t seen Sect Leader Xiang with it?”

“Sect Leader Xiang?” Monkey answered quickly, “We’re just a sub-branch under the Winged Fire Serpent branch in a small county. We haven’t even seen the branch leader, let alone Sect Leader Xiang. And from what I’ve heard, he’s as elusive as a dragon—none of us has a chance to meet him.”

Yang Ning’s mood soured further. It was one thing to be a Beggars’ Sect disciple, but it seemed he was at the very bottom of the heap.

Beggars were already the lowest rung of society—now he was the lowest among them.

Old Bark, who’d been silent, finally approached, carrying a small pouch. He handed it to Yang Ning. “Little Mink, this is the silver left from selling the jade pendant. We spent most on medicine and treatment, but these are what’s left—keep them safe.”

The others now treated Old Bark with respect, clearing space for him.

“Jade pendant?” Yang Ning asked, curious.

Old Bark, aware that Yang Ning’s mind was muddled, explained, “When you were unconscious, Miss Xiaodie came to see you. Seeing you gravely ill, she left a jade pendant. It seemed important to her, but to save you, she handed it over. I had no better options, so I took it and exchanged it for silver.”

“Xiaodie?” For some reason, the name stirred a sense of familiarity in Yang Ning’s mind, and a dull ache throbbed in the back of his head. A blurry image appeared—a delicate girl in her teens. His mind felt swollen; he raised his hands to cradle his temples.

He wasn’t stupid. This odd reaction made him quickly realize a possibility: though he now inhabited Little Mink’s body, the original’s memories hadn’t been completely overwritten. Mentioning certain people or events triggered flashes of Little Mink’s subconscious.

Old Bark noticed Yang Ning’s discomfort and frowned, sighing. “Little Mink, you’ve just recovered from a serious illness. Maybe you should rest a while longer. You can forget everyone else, but not Miss Xiaodie. Without her, you wouldn’t have survived.”

Yang Ning was even more puzzled. According to Old Bark, this Xiaodie was his savior.

Wind and rain battered the outside, and Yang Ning suddenly felt chilled. He turned to Monkey. “Is there any water here? Bring me some—I want to wash my face.”

He needed cold water to clear his head.

Monkey paused; seeing Yang Ning’s frown, he hurriedly replied, “Yes, yes, I’ll get it right away…” He called to the others, “Come help!”

Once they’d left, Yang Ning asked Old Bark, “I was seriously ill?”

“For more than ten days,” Old Bark sighed. “We had no money for treatment and could only watch helplessly. You were barely holding on. A few days ago, Miss Xiaodie came in the middle of the night, cried for hours, then gave me the jade pendant to exchange for silver and get you medicine. Little Mink, without that pendant, you’d be dead.”

“Xiaodie… Xiaodie cried for hours?” Yang Ning smiled bitterly. “She couldn’t bear for me to die? But… but who is she? Why can’t I remember?”

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