Chapter 33, The Ruined Temple

Translator: StarReader

 

Deep in the eastern outskirts, an abandoned City God Temple stood with its door slightly ajar. Inside, the temple was in disarray—offerings and incense stands lay scattered on the ground, covered in spider webs and heaps of straw. A few mice were hiding under the shattered remains of the altar, their starving bodies almost skeletal, with greenish eyes glinting.

 

A group of over ten ragged, dirty-faced beggars had gathered within. They were discussing an important matter that could change their fortunes. In the center, a pile of wooden sticks supported a makeshift fireplace with a large clay pot atop it. The pot held boiling soybean soup, with a few cabbage leaves floating on the surface. The faint aroma of beans wafted through the air, making the beggars’ hungry eyes widen and their stomachs growl audibly.

 

“Brothers, we’ve gathered here to talk about something important. Don’t just think about eating! Do any of you know what’s happening with the Wu Region martial world?” A young beggar sitting in the middle spoke seriously, his gaze sharp as he scanned the others.

 

He paused for a moment, his stern eyes sweeping over the crowd.

 

But none of the beggars could answer; they just stared blankly at him, their expressions vacant and clueless, which made him feel a bit awkward.

 

The young man felt disappointed.

 

Today, he had gathered his beggars for this very purpose—not to drink soybean soup, but to establish a new martial gang belonging solely to them, the beggars.

 

“Now that the world is in turmoil, martial groups are thriving! This is our great opportunity to rise and achieve success!

 

“The Whale Gang, Heaven Falcon Group, Medicine King Group, Iron Sword Group, and the caravan guards swagger into taverns, indulge in delicacies, and run rampant in the Wu Region’s thirteen counties. Meanwhile, we, the beggars, are starving, oppressed, scraping by on leftovers from their banquets. Why is that?”

 

Silence fell over the temple; the beggars just gawked at each other, none able to provide an answer.

 

“That’s because although we are many beggars, we are scattered. We don’t have our own group, we don’t have our own power, and we are like a snake without a head—that’s why we’re getting beaten down!

 

“Now, this band of ours has grown from four to over ten members. It’s time for us to establish our own group. Don’t be discouraged by our numbers—there are plenty of small martial groups in the Wu Region with just a handful of people. Once we set up our own group, we’ll quickly surpass them.”

 

The young man spoke confidently, answering his own questions with determination, his arm sweeping through the air as he spoke.

 

“Yes!”

 

“Right!”

 

“We live a hard life, starving every day, fighting for a meal. But those big groups are living a life of debauchery, eating dog meat and chicken every meal.”

 

“Our lives are so hard—every day, we go hungry, fighting just for a meal. Meanwhile, those in the big groups live it up, eating meat every day.”

 

“We should also build a group of our own! With more people, we can dominate Gusu County City, occupy a piece of slum area, eat beggar’s chicken every day, and live a good life!”

 

The young beggar raised a clay bowl and said excitedly.

 

“From now on, I and all the brothers in the Beggars’ Sect will share happiness and difficulties together!”

 

“Cheers to the gang leader!”

 

“We respect the boss!”

 

The beggars responded loudly, holding up their broken tiles, bowls, and wooden bowls filled with a little soup, and swore an alliance.

 

The young beggar, Eight Zhu, appeared composed as he glanced around, a mix of pride and regret evident. He couldn’t help but think—had his beautifully decorated flowered ceramic bowl not been shattered by that good-for-nothing last winter, he would have stood out among the crowd holding such a unique vessel. Imagine how impressive he’d have looked then.

 

“To celebrate the establishment of our gang, let’s tuck into this soybean stew!” he announced.

 

“Ah! Don’t rush; everyone gets a share!”

 

But their anticipation couldn’t hold; as soon as the pot was brought out, the other beggars, starving and impatient, dove in, scooping handfuls of soybeans and greens without waiting for it to boil properly. In the chaos, the pot slipped from someone’s grasp, crashing onto the ground and scattering beans everywhere. The broth and green leaves splattered across the muddy floor.

 

Desperate hunger overrode any concern about the heat. They scrambled to pick up the beans along with mud, stuffing their mouths without hesitation.

 

“You lot are just a bunch of food-crazed idiots!” Eight Zhu scolded.

 

Eight Zhu was both furious and anxious, afraid he wouldn’t get any. He hurriedly joined the others in the scramble.

 

At that moment, the decrepit gate of the City God Temple creaked open. Two teenagers, around twelve or thirteen years old, pushed their way inside.

 

The group of beggars in the ruined temple who were scrambling for beans glance back in surprise.

 

These two boys were dressed in distinctively colored group disciple robes—one wore a young and spirited Medicine King Group blue disciple’s attire, and the other sported a grey disciple’s garb from the Heaven Falcon Group.

 

The Medicine King Group youth seemed calmer, his youthful face assessing the crowd of beggars inside the temple with an air of indifference.

 

However, the Heaven Falcon Group disciple caught their attention most. His face bore a prominent scar, and upon seeing the cluster of beggars in the temple, he appeared startled, his eyes betraying a hint of fear. He seemed eager to retreat back outside.

 

The beggars were all taken aback. This rundown temple was rarely visited by anyone—how come two group disciples had shown up?

 

Su Chen noticed over a dozen beggars gathered inside the temple, but he paid them little mind. Spotting a large pot boiling away, he smirked and turned to Ah Chou, saying, “Hey, Ah Chou, there’s a big pot here. We could grab some game, cook it up, and have ourselves a nice stew. That way, we won’t have to waste time running all the way back to the Gusu County City for another pot.”

 

“But… there are so many beggars eating in there! Let’s just pick another spot.”

 

Ah Chou hesitated, eyeing the crowded temple with a hint of fear. In Gusu County City, beggars were considered outcasts, their numbers making them a force to be reckoned with. Known for bullying the weak and picking on softer targets, these street toughs weren’t something two young boys wanted to tangle with.

 

Eight Zhu kept casting sidelong glances at Su Chen, as if there was some familiarity in his gaze…

 

He suddenly remembered, jumping to his feet and pointing at Su Chen, shouting, “I remember you, kid! You’re the one who kicked my ceramic bowl last year. How did you become a disciple of the Medicine King Group?”

 

Su Chen’s act of shattering his flowered ceramic bowl still burned deep; he hated Su Chen with a passion and remembered the boy’s appearance clearly. However, over the past several months, Su Chen had grown taller, his body becoming more muscular after training, no longer the scrawny boy he was a year ago.

 

“Kid, you shattered my bowl and still dared to show your face to me? Brothers, this is our first battle as a group! Let’s take these two down! Attack them, beat them!” Eight Zhu’s anger boiled over.

 

The last time he had encountered this blue-clad youth from the Medicine King Group, the boy had looked penniless. Now, after just half a year, it seemed he hadn’t been with the Medicine King Group for long and probably hadn’t mastered any martial arts yet; his strength was definitely weak. Considering the fresh, clean clothes he wore, there must be some money on him—perfect to seize for their use.

 

More than ten beggars exchanged wary glances before steeling their courage, bellowing as they charged forward en masse, surrounding Su Chen and Ah Chou.

 

Within Gusu County City, the beggars would never provoke the five major groups’ disciples, as they would be beaten half to death by the groups’ members. But here, in the remote outskirts, with an abandoned temple and few people around, things were different.

 

On their side, there were over a dozen adult beggars; even though none of them had any martial arts training, they were still tall and strong, giving them a high chance of winning. Why would they fear two kids?