Murim Troubleshooter Dan Mujin

Chapter 2: The Runaway Scion

There’s an old saying: if you want to hide a tree, hide it in the forest.

That’s why I decided to hide myself in the most crowded and bustling city in all of Hebei—Beijing.

A massive city gate, over which a golden yellow dragon coiled as it ascended to the heavens.

Passing through it, the vast view of the city unfolded before my eyes.

“Wow, it’s packed.”

The wide main road was so crowded, there wasn’t even space to set your foot down.

Street vendors lined both sides, and the marketplace buzzed with haggling and touting.

Drifters and peddlers with large bundles, and even martial artists striding confidently with swords at their waists.

It was a literal sea of people, gathered from every corner of the Central Plains.

“The buildings are impressive too.”

Fitting for the imperial capital where the Emperor resides, everything was grand and magnificent.

Towering pavilions stacked high, and mansions with thick pillars erected proudly.

It was a city that radiated wealth.

If there’s a place where I can make a living, it would be here.

They say generosity flows from a full granary—whether I find a job or resort to begging, it's a hundred times better to do it where money overflows.

“Coming here was the right choice.”

After chewing on unidentifiable berries and roots for half a month while walking day and night, the effort was worth it.

Someone like Murong Cheongjin, raised in a noble household, would've sat down crying long ago, but I made it through with sheer grit and madness.

Growl.

I saw grilled chicken skewers cooking nicely at a nearby stall.

As the smell of meat tickled my nose, my stomach rumbled and demanded food.

But I didn’t have a single penny to my name.

“I need to do something—anything—to put food in my mouth.”

Manual labor would be fine.

On the way here, I realized that this body, imbued with the Heaven-Slaying Star, had monstrous durability and strength.

So as long as I had the will to work, I wouldn't need to worry about survival.

Whenever I spotted a suitable store, I charged in headfirst.

But all I got in return were frowns and cold rejection.

“Where did this filthy brat crawl out from, begging for a job?”

“Ugh, the smell! Get lost, you’re scaring away customers!”

“Scram, now!”

I said I’d do even the most menial tasks, but apparently no one hires a nobody they've never seen or heard of.

In this harsh Murim society, an outsider boy with an uncertain identity had no opportunity to work at all.

No wonder there were so many beggars on the street.

“Damn this ‘guanxi’ system.”

At this point, it was time to switch to begging.

Who says you can only earn money through work?

As long as I can fill my belly, it doesn’t matter how.

I turned my eyes to the wealthy passersby.

Especially those plump ones in a time of widespread hunger and famine.

Back at the orphanage, when pocket money ran short, I used this kind of street begging to fill my coin pouch.

People would open their wallets out of pity for a child’s plea.

Some even teared up, saying how pitiful it was.

That’s when I realized—if you can just let go of your pride, there are endless ways to earn money.

“That goat-bearded merchant looks good.”

Silken robes with a subtle shine.

In this world, silk was a luxurious fabric made through the meticulous raising of silkworms.

Someone dressed like that wouldn’t be stingy over a few coppers.

“Sir…! I’m starving! Please, just a single coin!”

I rushed over and prostrated myself before the merchant.

Keeping my head low, I stretched out my trembling hand.

Humans are creatures with a sense of pity unlike any other animal.

Few would reject the plea of a skinny, frail child.

“Then go starve to death.”

“…”

I slowly lifted my head in a daze.

Murim really wasn’t an easy place.

My sister who tried to stab her own brother, and these beasts worse than animals everywhere…

Heh.

Seeing my humanity-deprived expression, the goat-bearded merchant sneered and turned away.

In that moment, I felt something snap inside me.

This bastard, worse than a beast, dared to provoke a starving, desperate beggar?

You’re dead today.

“Siiiiiir—!”

I dashed forward and slammed into the broad back of the merchant like an enraged boar.

“Urgh!”

The merchant let out a groan from the sudden heavy impact.

I grabbed his pant leg with both hands, holding tight so he couldn’t escape, and shouted with burning eyes.

“Please, just one coin!”

“…What the hell is wrong with this brat!”

Seeing the madness in my eyes, the merchant flinched in fear.

But even so, he only tried to shake me off with force, never once reaching for his coin pouch.

Fine, this is a world where pity has dried up.

Then it’s time to match it with equally ruthless tactics.

I glanced around.

The ruckus in the middle of the main street was starting to draw attention.

Perfect.

I grinned at the merchant and unleashed the most terrifying threat a child of my age could make.

“Daddy! Don’t abandon me!”

My voice rang out loudly through the street of stalls.

People turned to look, drawn by the shocking accusation.

The goat-bearded merchant’s mouth dropped open.

“Wh-Wh-What the hell are you talking about! I’ve never had a kid like you!”

I heard that people in this era value face (mianzi) above all.

Apparently it was true—this guy didn’t even blink when I begged, but now he was hopping in panic.

And no matter the time or place, the misfortunes of others’ families always attract interest and gossip.

“He’s not a beggar? He’s actually his kid?”

“Tsk. Trying to abandon his own child in broad daylight?”

Sounds of tongues clicking and voices of criticism began to rise.

“Let go, you filthy beggar…! Don’t believe this brat’s words! He’s just some crazy kid!”

The merchant shouted that I was a fraud and desperately tried to shake me off.

But how could some commoner possibly overcome the monstrous strength gifted to me by the heavens?

I clung tighter to his leg, cutting off circulation, and cried out louder.

“Sniffle… Daddy, I’m sorry, I’ll be better… So please!”

Tears and snot smeared across his pants as I sobbed pitifully.

Anyone would think I was a child being abandoned by my own parent.

“You… you goddamn little bastard!”

The merchant was horrified.

People all around began glaring daggers at him.

“Trying to abandon your own kid in the middle of the road?”

“Tch tch. What a despicable human being.”

The residents of Beijing murmured amongst themselves, staring at the merchant.

In this society, if you’re not careful, you’ll become human trash in an instant.

“No, I swear I’m innocent! I’m not even married—how could I have a kid…!”

The merchant flailed his arms wildly in frustration, trying to explain.

But the cold stares from the crowd were merciless.

The merchant, suddenly branded a scumbag, trembled with rage as his goat beard quivered slightly.

“Isn’t that guy the merchant from the Man Geum Trading Post?”

As the scuffle dragged on, someone even recognized him, making the goat-bearded merchant even more frantic.

“Damn it, fine! Just let go of me already…!”

Despite summoning all the strength of a grown man, I didn’t budge an inch—like a rock.

Even the merchant, who had been cursing and smacking my head, eventually realized it was no use and pulled out his coin pouch.

“...You rotten brat! Take this and scram!”

He scooped a handful of coins and scattered them across the ground.

He must’ve figured any further fuss would only cost him more.

Iron coins rolled across the ground, glinting in the sunlight.

It was the moment of harvest I had been waiting for.

“Hehe, may fortune bless you, kind sir!”

Worried someone else might snatch them up, I quickly threw myself down and scraped up the scattered coins with both hands.

This was the ultimate begging art—creating something from nothing.

Once I’d gathered a decent amount of coins, I swiftly slipped away from the scene to avoid prying eyes.

“Hm, quite hefty.”

Ten iron coins filled my small hands completely.

This was the currency of the Central Plains.

Not a fortune, but enough to keep my stomach full for three or four days if I stretched it.

As expected, once I put away my pride, the path to survival opened up.

While fiddling with the coins, I remembered the grilled chicken skewer that had made my mouth water earlier.

Maybe I should commemorate my first earnings here with one.

But just as I began walking, recalling the vendor’s location, a group of scruffy kids blocked my way.

From their ragged clothes and dirt-streaked faces, they looked like local beggars.

“...Hyungnim, are you sure? He looked like a proper lunatic back there.”

“It’s fine. He’s got a temper, but he’s small.”

They whispered to each other while eyeing me.

Whoever they were, it seemed they had been watching my earlier performance.

“Hey.”

The biggest among them, a shaved-head kid, called out to me.

Though “big,” he looked about the age of a middle schooler by modern standards.

“What kind of mutt are you?”

“Me? I’m Dan Mujin, the mutt.”

I just made that name up.

Since I’d been erased from the family register, I changed the ‘Cheong’ in Cheongjin to ‘Mu’ (meaning nothing), and added my real surname—Dan Mujin.

Wait… now that I think about it, it kind of sounds like danmuji (yellow pickled radish).

“Alright, Dan Mujin. Are you begging in this area knowing it's our turf?”

But it seemed I was already too late.

The bulky kid stomped the ground with force, snorting heavily.

“Tch, these days beggars have no honor. Where the hell did you crawl out from?”

Apparently even beggars had turf wars around here.

The kid got furious that I begged so brazenly out in the open on a main street.

“So what? You want a cut?”

If we fought, I’d win, obviously.

I had the Heaven-Slaying Star optimized for killing.

But what good would it do for a grown adult to beat up a bunch of street urchins?

Besides, these were fellow beggars in the same pitiful boat.

So depending on how things went, I might show them a bit of kindness.

“A cut? Are you crazy? Cough it all up… Argh!”

Before I knew it, my hand moved on its own at his absurd demand.

Thwack! The sound of slapping leather echoed as the bulky kid flew through the air.

I had planned to be merciful for once, but this kid had no honor.

“N-No way…”

“Ochil-hyungnim went down in one hit…”

The kids who had followed him whispered in shock, faces pale.

They clearly hadn’t expected their big guy to go down so easily.

They stared at me like I was some kind of monster.

“What? You guys want some too?”

The bulky kid lay twitching on the ground, legs still shaking.

At my question, the others quickly shook their heads.

“Then this turf is mine now, right?”

“…”

I had taken down their leader and received their surrender.

This was Murim, where power dictated the rules.

Having sent someone flying like a ball, no one had the guts to argue.

Just as there are shadows where the sun rises, even glorious Beijing had its alleyways.

A hideout barely covered with some rags, patched onto a worm-eaten wooden pillar.

“We’d like to follow you, hyungnim.”

The day after I muscled in, the bulky kid—who introduced himself as Ochil—bowed deeply and asked to join me.

It seemed my inhuman strength and skilled begging had impressed him.

“Don’t be stupid. Why the hell would I be your hyungnim?”

“Because you’re strong and make good money.”

Well… not wrong.

Even if he was a beggar, he understood how the world worked.

“If you knew that, why’d you try to steal my begging money?”

“I have mouths to feed… I’m ashamed, hyungnim.”

Behind him, four kids stood awkwardly, hands clasped.

For someone feeding them, all of them—including Ochil—looked filthy and emaciated.

Their bony frames were textbook examples of skin and bones.

“Begging not going well?”

“It’s tough, hyungnim.”

There were a lot of gambling dens and loan sharks in the area, sucking up all the money.

“Plus, there are a lot of people like that goat-bearded bastard who openly mock beggars.”

They’d lose everything gambling, life was rough, and beggars like them were the easiest targets to mock and bully.

In short, this place was the worst for begging.

I had wondered how such weak kids had claimed this turf, and now it made sense—they’d simply picked up what others had abandoned.

“In that situation, you managed to strip the meanest bastard, that goat-beard guy.”

The kids stared at me in awe.

That jerk of a merchant must’ve been infamous among the beggars here.

I had figured he was no ordinary guy when I first saw him too.

But as I listened, something started to bother me.

“Anyway, hyungnim…”

“Hey, drop the ‘hyungnim’ thing.”

“Why?”

Because it sounds like we’re some kind of gang.

We’re not part of some Unorthodox Faction.

“Call me ‘boss’ instead.”

That was the nickname they used to call me back in the orphanage.

I decided to accept these little rascals as my subordinates.

Even if I took over a turf, I'd need at least a few heads to manage it.

I could just use them as my lackeys.

“Yes, Boss Mujin.”

Hearing that title made me feel like I’d gone back to the old days.

“But these are all the kids?”

Including Ochil, there were five—six if you counted me.

“There used to be one more… someone called Ilhong.”

“So?”

“He said we’d all starve at this rate and ran off.”

Seems like he reached his limit and bolted.

And who could blame him?

Just look at how skinny the kids were.

If a beggar couldn’t even beg, death by starvation was the next stop.

“How the hell do you manage to pull in cash like the boss does?”

Ochil, eyes sparkling, finally asked what he'd clearly been dying to know.

How did I do it?

I just gave back as good as I got when someone treated me like shit.

There’s no point trying to elicit pity from people who mock you.

“It’s simple. Just slap a sheet of iron on your face.”

“I already did, boss.”

“Then slap on more.”

Half-hearted attempts get you nowhere.

If you want to survive, you have to throw your life at it.

The ones with nothing to lose are always the scariest.

Meanwhile, those people have way too much to lose—starting with their reputation.

“Don’t think of it as begging—think of it as a fight for survival.”

An old-school survival mentality.

But that’s all we had, so we needed it.

No one looks after beggars.

Even if you collapse on the street from hunger, all you’ll get are sneers.

So to live, we had to change the way we did things.

Ochil was a terrible beggar.

And when he first met Mujin, his first thought was, “That guy’s insane.”

Of all people, he had latched onto the most ruthless merchant in Beijing.

Everyone thought he’d fail.

But he clung on like a mad dog, and in the end, he got the money.

He even managed to make that notorious penny-pincher open his own wallet out of fear.

That’s when Ochil realized—if I stick with that guy, at least I won’t starve.

And it turned out to be the right call.

“Sirrrrr!”

A bustling market street filled with merchants hypersensitive to public image and reputation.

“Are these brats crazy?! Let go now!”

“Sir! If you leave us, we’ll starve to death!”

Boss Mujin had said—alone we’re weak, but together we’re strong.

Young kids, clutching onto pant legs, bawled loudly in front of a crowd of people.

Three or four children crying loud enough to shake the whole street—there was no way it wouldn’t draw attention.

The merchant became a full-blown spectacle.

With both legs held fast, he couldn’t budge, and in the end, he trembled with rage and had no choice but to hand over some alms.

“I’ve worked this street for ten years, but I’ve never seen kids as ruthless as you!”

The merchant threw a few iron coins into the beggar bowl with a snarl.

“Sir, we’ve got a lot of mouths to feed. Maybe just a little more…”

“Ugh, you clingy little…!”

With a jingle, a few more coins dropped into the bowl.

It wasn’t much for the merchant, but for beggars, it was enough to stave off hunger for six days.

“Boss! Look at this!”

“We gathered this many coins!”

For kids who used to spend all day just to maybe earn a single penny, it was a miraculous haul.

Their gourd-shaped begging bowls grew heavy, and grins spread across their faces.

Under Mujin’s leadership, the kids grew bolder.

They no longer cared about gender or age when they begged.

Even Old Man Jang, the fabric shop owner who used to wave a stick at them for even approaching—

“Grandpa Jang, are you going to abandon your grandson?”

“You little brats…”

Even the floor manager of that infamous brothel, who used to kick beggars just for fun—

“Mom.”

“…Oh my, what are these beggars saying now!”

No one could escape this little rebellion by those with nothing to lose.

To survive as preschool-aged beggars in the ruthless jungle of Dosan Forest, you had to do everything.

They say the world is one big family.

To us, the world was our long-lost parents, relatives, and siblings.

Though they wouldn’t agree with that, of course.

“Boss! The bowl’s full again today!”

“Let’s hurry back and cook a meal!”

The Mujin Gang was on a winning streak.

And word spread that they were eating well and living large.

Soon, more kids in similar situations began to gather from all over.

Turning them away would’ve been like sentencing them to starve, so one by one I took them in.

Before I knew it, our numbers had grown to eight.

With a bigger group to feed, expanding our turf was the natural next step.

“Screw it! Let’s splurge today—let’s put a chunk of meat in the Galjeotang!”

Galjeotang—Brown Pig Soup.

A stew made from roots, old rice, and discarded cuts of meat.

Normally, it was barely more than a watery gruel pretending to be meat soup.

But today, we might actually get to chew real meat.

“Ooh!”

“Meat! Meat! Meat!”

You need protein to grow during your developmental years.

The kids returned from the butcher with a piece of meat, their steps light with excitement as they entered the beggars’ den.

But in their rag-covered hideout, there was an uninvited guest.

Whack! Whack!

Soft, pitiful cries.

A boy surrounded by unfamiliar beggars, getting beaten like a rug on a rainy day.

“Agh! I told you I’m not Dan Mujin…! Urk!”

A strange sight indeed.

Why was that name being shouted over there?

Mujin tapped Ochil on the shoulder and asked.

“Who’s that kid getting beat up?”

“Looks like Ilhong.”

“Oh, the runaway?”

Ochil nodded.

“Gah! Wait! Not the face!”

It seemed the runaway scion had returned.