Murim Troubleshooter Dan Mujin

Chapter 3: Juvenile Offenders

“What the hell do you bastards think you're doing in someone else's house?”

No matter the situation, this place was our precious shelter from the rain and wind.

There was no way I could let strangers barge in and rummage around as they pleased.

When I growled and stepped forward, only then did the unfamiliar beggars stop beating the kid and look back and forth between us in confusion.

“What the, isn’t this guy actually Dan Mujin?”

“But I heard he had a pretty face and pale skin.”

“Hey, that guy standing over there looks exactly the same though.”

One of the beggars pointed at me and said.

One of the perks of this new body was a handsome face, I had to admit.

A promising talent with a bright future ahead.

“Huk huk, I’m telling you, it’s not me…”

The little kid, Ilhong, protested in a voice full of injustice.

The beggars, who had just finished beating up the wrong guy, spat on the ground and began to slowly surround me.

About ten of them.

And they were bigger than us.

In Earth terms, they looked like high schoolers.

“You’re that Dan Mujin everyone’s talking about, huh?”

“We heard you’ve been begging around here without our boss’s permission?”

“Guess it’s about time someone put you in your place.”

A bunch of snot-nosed kids pretending to be gangsters.

I signaled the kids who brought the Galjeotang ingredients to step back, then stepped forward with heavy steps.

Judging from their actions, they had no idea who I really was.

They probably came just because they heard I had some money.

“Let’s mess up that pretty face of yours first—urk!”

Before the sentence even finished, my fist sliced through the air.

A dull thud echoed out.

The guy spat out his teeth and collapsed from a single blow.

This was the essence of "strike first, win first."

“You son of a bitch…! Ugh!”

Another beggar came charging, but I kicked him right in the chest.

He flew back and tumbled across the ground with a crash.

A destructive red energy shimmered around my hands and feet.

“G-Gubong just flew!”

“Nobody said anything about a guy like this!”

Two of their members went down in a flash, causing the rest to murmur in panic.

“Come at me all at once.”

I beckoned at them with a flick of my finger.

After all, I was curious about the performance and durability of this body imbued with the Heaven-Slaying Star.

“Screw this! Everyone rush him!”

“Beat him down!”

I decided I might as well test the limits today.

“You monster of a bastard!”

Half a keun (15 minutes) later.

Five beggars were lying collapsed near the shack.

The ones still standing were breathing heavily, bruised purple, with split lips—none of them looked unscathed.

“What kind of damn kid has such endurance?!”

“We’ve got to bring the boss!”

“You bastard! You’ll pay for this later…!”

Kids’ fights always came down to momentum.

When I bulldozed through and knocked out five of them in an instant, the others lost their nerve and bolted.

The fight ended extremely one-sided.

Shame.

I kind of wanted to hit more.

I found myself thinking that as I gazed at the faint red mist swirling around.

Hopefully, I wasn't turning into a lunatic like Murong Cheongjin.

Better rein it in a bit.

“…You’re amazing, great warrior! You took down those troublesome guys in one blow!”

Suddenly, the runaway ninja kid who had been beaten senseless earlier lifted his head from the dirt and began praising my strength.

He’d been mistaken for me and beaten to a pulp, yet surprisingly, he seemed mostly fine.

“Your courage and monstrous strength charging into the enemy felt just like Xiang Yu, the Conqueror of Western Chu! I, Ilhong, have opened my eyes today!”

He spoke like his tongue was dipped in oil—flattery flowed like a stream.

Now that I saw him up close, I understood why the invaders had mistaken him for me.

Clear jade-like features, even the dirt couldn’t hide them.

A slim frame that looked more like a courtesan’s than a beggar’s.

I thought I was the only pretty beggar around here.

“You ran away. Why’d you come back?”

Ilhong, was it?

He paused for a moment at my question, then grinned sheepishly and scratched the side of his head.

“Well, it was rougher out there. No one wants to take in a kid like me, and I kept getting hit just for having an unlucky face…”

Seemed like he ran away saying he’d had enough, only to face worse hardships and come back.

That made sense.

Other gangs only picked the biggest and strongest kids.

But with me, a human weapon, around, our side didn’t need to worry about that anymore.

“Hmph.”

Still, the kid really was good-looking.

Once he grew up and filled out, he’d break many a lady’s heart.

By then, just flashing a smile on the street would earn him plenty of charity.

Might be worth investing in.

“Call me Boss Mujin.”

I reached out my hand to help him up and said so.

“Ah, the one from the rumors…! No wonder I sensed the spirit of ‘strength to lift mountains, vigor that covers the world.’ You’re not only skilled at begging but also gifted in martial arts!”

His use of flowery words and classical references wasn’t typical for a beggar.

“Tone it down.”

“Yessir.”

Ilhong grabbed my hand and sprang to his feet.

But something about him felt oddly light.

“Hey, you are a boy, right?”

I could chalk up the androgynous voice to a lack of puberty, but the long lashes and rosy lips were suspicious.

“…Of course! I’m a manly man through and through.”

“Then why are you so light?”

“Because I haven’t been eating.”

He showed me his thin, bony fingers.

I hadn’t noticed under the baggy rags, but he was skinnier than I’d thought.

Yep, these were tough times for orphans to survive.

“Boss, so what do we do with these guys?”

Ochil nudged the unconscious beggars who had jumped me earlier and asked.

Those guys hadn’t even bothered to carry off their fallen comrades.

Well, that's about the level of organization you'd expect from beggars.

“What were they even doing here in the first place?”

Should’ve asked before knocking them out.

Ochil shrugged as if he didn’t know either.

“Ah, those guys. They were sent by Um Baek, the boss.”

But the answer to the question came from Ilhong.

Judging by the way he spoke, he seemed to know something.

I tilted my chin as if to ask for more explanation.

“They probably got greedy for this area again, even though they used to think of it as a chicken rib.”

“It’s all thanks to your masterful begging skills that’ve scraped up a bunch of iron coins.”

Sounds like they heard we were making some money.

Maybe they planned to take over the territory or beat up our gang to extort some protection money.

Truly a bunch of shameless bastards.

How could beggars prey on other beggars?

“Um Baek, huh? What a funny bastard.”

Those punks from earlier told me I’d regret this, didn’t they?

People who say stuff like that are never truly scary, but it might get a bit annoying.

“They’re the biggest beggar gang around here. They have numbers, and lately, they seem to have connections with the Black Path Factions.”

The Black Path, of course, referred to gangs that lived off of murder, theft, pillaging, and all sorts of atrocities.

And he made ties with them?

Looks like this Um Baek guy wasn’t just some runaway kid anymore—he was dreaming of becoming a real crime boss.

“You sure seem to know a lot about these kinds of things?”

“…I just happened to hear a lot here and there.”

How does one just “happen” to pick that stuff up?

I turned to Ochil, who was poking at the unconscious guys on the ground.

“Hey, how come you don’t know this stuff?”

“I was too busy just trying to survive, Boss.”

“Yeah… that makes sense…”

You can’t run a group with just brute force.

You need at least one guy who knows how the world works and has a quick head on his shoulders.

In that sense, Ilhong seemed to know an oddly large amount.

He gave off the feeling of someone with a backstory—though really, what orphan doesn’t have one?

“Ilhong, come have a bowl of Galjeotang.”

I said, watching the kids rummage through the messy house and pull out an old pot.

“Eck, isn’t that just bitter-tasting grass porridge?”

“Dan Mujin-style Galjeotang is different.”

I pointed to a big slab of meat we got from the butcher.

Right on cue, one of the kids dunked the meat into the pot that had just started to boil.

“Whoa, you should’ve said that earlier! Thank you for the meal!”

Ilhong rushed over, drooling like a puppy that spotted food.

Not long after, distribution began, and he quickly scooped out his piece of meat before anyone else could snatch it.

It must’ve been hot, but he shoved it all in his mouth with a look of bliss.

“Huk huk, thith ith tho gooth…”

He must’ve burned the roof of his mouth.

What a funny kid.

It was the day our Mujin Gang gained a useful new member.

As always, the South Gate market was bustling with noise.

I pointed to a silk-clad merchant walking by.

“Ilhong, what about that guy?”

“Look at the emblem on his belt. He’s from the Man Geum Trading Post.”

Loan sharks are dangerous.

I know from experience doing collections.

They’re shameless to the core.

I nodded in understanding and pointed to the person next to him.

“What about that fat guy?”

“He’s a constable who frequents the magistrate’s office. Might cause trouble.”

Getting on the bad side of the authorities is a pain.

Especially if they have the power to arrest people.

If it were the old days, I’d have stepped on that landmine and gotten myself in deep trouble.

But now, our gang had its own strategist.

“What about that scruffy guy over there?”

“A wanderer. No sword, but from the calluses on his fists, he’s a martial artist.”

Wanderers.

The troubleshooters of this era.

They’ve seen filth, danger, and all sorts of war.

They wouldn’t even flinch at begging.

We now had a way to pick easy targets—no need to poke hornets' nests.

“What about that tall guy next to him? Think he’s good to hit?”

“He’s a merchant from the Ohga Family. Looks easy and clean. Recently made quite a bit smuggling musk.”

Good.

We can squeeze a lot out of that one.

Still, how does this kid know all the inner workings of smugglers?

If I asked, he’d probably clam up.

Just like how I can’t talk about the Heaven-Slaying Star to others.

In that case, I’ll just keep using him quietly.

I spotted the prey and gestured to the kids gathering around.

“Let’s go, juvenile offenders.”

Today, we’re robbing pigs who don’t know how to share.

Just to survive one more day.

“What’s ‘juvenile offenders’ mean?”

“No idea, Boss’s always saying weird stuff.”

“Let’s just make money.”

The kids grumbled as they closed in.

It was panhandling time.

“Elder siiiir~!”

They call those who rob rich fools to help the poor “righteous thieves.”

And since I robbed fat tycoons to save orphans on the brink of starvation, doesn’t that make me something similar?

Utilitarian redistribution of wealth.

You could even call it a kind of Murim Robin Hood group.

“Boss, look at this! It’s silver! A silver coin!”

Our begging expedition had been full of ups and downs.

Ilhong picked up a particularly shiny silver coin from the begging bowl.

It was a silver coin minted by an emperor named ‘Hongnakje.’

As someone who knew Chinese history from public education, I couldn’t help but think, “Who the hell is that?”

But considering there were people who had inner energy, sword qi, and even evil stars in them, a mystery emperor wasn’t worth stressing over.

“You guys… this is legit money, right?”

We’d shaken down a smuggler and made a decent haul.

So instead of eating boiled pig mash, we came to a proper dumpling shop.

The bearded shopkeeper eyed our raggedy group of beggars suspiciously.

“We earned it fair and square.”

At least it wasn’t money stained with someone’s tears or blood.

Other beggars made pickpocketing the norm and had no problem with robbery either.

But in our gang, that kind of thing was strictly forbidden.

Orphans were especially prone to falling into crime.

Once they crossed the line, their lives spiraled fast.

“Dumplings are up!”

“Waaah!”

Steam gently rising from the steamer tray where moist dumplings were placed.

Not dry mantou like flour cakes, but juicy meat dumplings.

The kids drooled, mouths wide open.

But at that golden moment, troublemakers came barging in to ruin the scene.

“Booooosssss—!”

A panting voice.

Someone rushed in urgently.

It was Ochil, dragging behind him a furious mob of more than ten from Um Baek’s gang.

“There he is! That pale bastard is Dan Mujin!”

I recognized the guy.

He was the beggar who tried to mess up my pretty face last time and ended up getting his own smashed instead.

They say even a dog shouldn’t be disturbed while eating—so why did they have to pick a fight just as the dumplings came out?

“What’re you gonna do? If you’re not buying, get out of the way.”

The bearded owner spoke with a look that said he didn’t want to get involved.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back before the dumplings cool.”

Crack. I loosened up my body and boldly stepped forward.

I’d taken down ten guys alone before—so a dozen and change wouldn’t be a problem.

“Not that many. Let’s just beat them all up!”

Ilhong and the kids agreed, stepping up with confidence.

Ilhong especially clenched his fist tightly, probably still holding a grudge from getting mobbed last time.

But just then, another wave of Um Baek’s gang poured in from around the corner.

“I told you! I’d come back for you!”

Their numbers quickly swelled to thirty.

Looked like Um Baek had scraped up every last member of his gang.

Facing that overwhelming number, Ilhong silently tapped my arm.

“Should we run?”

Gone was the bravado from earlier—he was already half-turned to flee.

But where would we run to?

If we backed down here, we wouldn’t even have a place to beg anymore.

“Come at me all at once. The dumplings are getting cold.”

So I clenched my fists tightly and shouted for them to bring it on.

A fierce clash over begging rights was about to erupt.

It was time to decide the ruler of the southern marketplace.

“Waaah!”

On Earth, no matter how much martial arts you train, it’s hard to take on even two or three people.

But what about in a place where Qi, martial arts, and the Heaven-Slaying Star really exist?

Thwack!

“Agh!”

Smack!

“Ugh!”

Each punch landed with a burst of noise and a cry of pain.

On the battlefield, the role of the vanguard is vital.

I hurled myself into their midst, flinging punches and kicks in every direction.

Even though I’d lived far removed from martial arts till now, when the time came, my body moved instinctively like it knew how to beat people.

I could see the paths to dodge, and my fists naturally moved to where they needed to hit—a bizarre sensation.

“Son of a—!”

“Somebody handle that damn brat!”

I deflected a fist aiming for me and countered with a blow to the chest.

Grabbed elbows and knees, twisted them, tapped behind the knees—‘Agh!’ they cried out as they collapsed.

I stepped on a hunched-over guy’s back like a vaulting horse and leaped.

With both feet, I slammed into the chests of two others charging at me.

‘I can see it.’

Red lines slashed through my vision chaotically.

The killing intent radiating from the enemies—every path of their malice was clear to me.

A sensation I couldn’t explain.

Probably something tied to the Heaven-Slaying Star within me.

“Swarm him all at once!”

Even if I could read their movements, punches rained from all sides, and some hits inevitably landed.

But so what?

The jagged rocks I’d crashed into in rapids, or the knife tips that pierced into my gut—those hurt way worse.

“Tickles, you bastards—!”

I shouted thunderously.

Then launched a front kick at a charging guy.

It sounded like a leather drum bursting.

“Ugh!”

With a scream, he flew and smashed into his own group, collapsing their formation.

Amid the tangle of fallen limbs, voices of disbelief rang out.

“What kind of kid has this strength…?!”

“And how’s he so damn tough?!”

Fighting is all about momentum.

Riding that flow, I knocked them down one by one.

Thwack, thwack, smack!

Cries and thuds echoed everywhere.

As I ran rampant across the battlefield, the fire in their eyes faded and fear took its place.

Crack!

“Ugh!”

I kicked the jaw of a guy trying to sneak up on me from behind.

His mouth snapped shut, his eyes rolled back, and he dropped.

The killing intent from behind me was too strong to ignore.

Seeing me react like I had eyes on my back, the Um Baek gang froze, afraid to charge again.

“…He’s a damn monster!”

The beggars slowly backed away.

Eventually, a few of them, realizing they had no chance, turned and fled in panic.

“Puhaha! Look at those Um Baek bastards running like hell!”

“That’s our Boss Mujin!”

The tide of battle had clearly shifted.

Our side’s kids, faces puffed up and swollen, cheered wildly.

Meanwhile, Um Baek’s gang, crushed by one guy’s overwhelming presence, shouted in frustration.

“Martial arts! That’s gotta be martial arts!”

“What kind of Murim guy jumps into a kids’ fight?!”

“Aren’t you ashamed?! You cowardly bastard!”

The defeated mutts barked as they retreated.

And this after they came at us three-to-one?

Pathetic.

I scratched my ear with my pinky, annoyed, and replied.

“There’s no such thing as cowardice in battle. Sometimes a heavy cavalry unit shows up in front of foot soldiers!”

War is inherently unfair.

Sometimes the Heaven-Slaying Star drops into a kids’ brawl—what can you do?

I gave them a lesson in that cold, hard truth.

As I was basking in victory, suddenly, shadows loomed large over my head.

I slowly looked up at the owners of those shadows.

“From the way you’re running wild like a thunder-naked brute…”

“You must be that Dan Mujin?”

They were adults—two heads taller than me.

Broad shoulders and a body honed through training.

Clearly the type that screamed, "I'm a martial artist."

Were they from a nearby escort agency?

But they had no reason to come looking for me.

“Lately, merchants have been talking about you a lot.”

“They say you're a real piece of work.”

Seemed like I’d been branded a troublemaker among some merchants.

Still, did that justify actual martial artists coming for me?

The moral code of the Jianghu must have hit rock bottom.

“Hmph! How can a Murim martial artist interfere in a kids' fight!”

Our kids stood together, glaring at the martial artists in disbelief.

These guys had proper jobs and still came to beat up children on someone else’s orders?

Even they looked ashamed, scratching the backs of their heads after my scolding.

“Hey, didn’t you say it yourself earlier?”

“That battlefields are unfair? So it’s fair for martial artists to jump into kids’ fights too.”

…Goddamn it.

Those were my own words, so I couldn’t even take them back.

“Boss, let’s actually run this time.”

Even a third-rate martial artist, the weakest rank in Murim, was like a natural disaster to a kid.

“And where would we even go, huh.”

I brushed off the runaway ninja’s hand and stepped in front of the martial artists.

Where in the world would welcome a rolling stone like me anyway?

“Don’t hold a grudge. I owe that goat-bearded merchant a favor…”

Then I realized who was behind this.

That damned goat-bearded bastard.

All because he tossed a few iron coins to a kid—he went as far as hiring third-rate martial artists?

“You wretched adults…”

I bit my lip and muttered quietly.

The martial artists awkwardly cleared their throats.

“…Ahem, well, no need to call it wretched…”

Maybe because I took too many hits earlier, that same red mist started to creep out from inside me again.

That mysterious energy that granted superhuman strength whenever I was in danger.

“Come at me, you third-raters!”

I raised both fists to chest level and took a convincing starting stance, shouting for them to attack.

Looked like those dumplings were going to get cold after all.

Beijing Eunseong Trading Company

With a hundred-year history, it was a name always mentioned when discussing the Ten Great Trading Companies of the world.

They had branches and affiliated merchants throughout the vast Central Plains and held great influence in the business world for a long time.

But as they say, even power doesn’t last a hundred years.

After a certain incident, when the trading lord Eunjincheong suddenly died, the company’s decline began rapidly.

Their affiliated Eunseong Escort Agency suffered consecutive delivery failures, and the sericulture business they had heavily invested in faced collapse.

Eunseong Trading Company began to slowly sink, as if trapped in a swamp.

But there was one person desperately trying to stop the fall.

A woman who inherited her father's business acumen and was famed for her beauty—one of Beijing’s “Three Flowers.”

“So you’re saying…”

Trading Lord Eun Hwaran stared at the third-class escorts before her with eyes full of disbelief.

“You came back after getting beaten up by a kid?”