Two Villages
Just as Tang Mujin and his companions were about to leave Nogun Village, a group of people approached.
Curious about their purpose, they looked on as Bang Ik, who stood at the front, offered a pouch about the size of a fist.
"What is this?"
"It's money we pooled together, hoping it might be of some small help."
Inside the pouch were roughly thirty silver coins.
Tang Mujin was taken aback. They had only been in Nogun Village for a couple of hours at most. For so much to have been collected in that short time seemed unbelievable.
"We are grateful for the sentiment, but we must decline. It feels a bit too heavy on our hearts."
When Tang Mujin gently pushed the pouch back, Bang Ik firmly offered it again.
"It isn't a burdensome sum. Nor was it gathered through hardship. Many here simply wished to give you even a small token of thanks."
Tang Mujin glanced around. Indeed, no one showed reluctance at parting with the money.
Even so, he declined once more.
"We already have enough travel expenses."
"At least use it to stay in a better inn along the way, or to have a drink to ease your journey. That alone would be worth it."
Tang Mujin observed the villagers.
Everyone was neatly dressed in fine clothing. Even the children wore deerskin shoes, a sign of unexpected prosperity. Clearly, selling medicinal herbs from Nogun Mountain was far more lucrative than he had imagined.
"Perhaps it truly isn't a burden after all."
Reluctantly, Tang Mujin accepted the pouch and passed it to Namgung Myeong.
"I'm fine. Give it to Hong Geolgae."
When Namgung Myeong refused, Hong Geolgae recoiled.
"How could a beggar sect member walk around with a money pouch? A true Beggar Sect disciple ought to live simply, scraping meals through alms."
Tang Mujin shot him a sharp look.
At first glance, Hong Geolgae seemed to honor the traditions of the sect. But his logic about alms was a bit twisted.
When they first met him, Hong Geolgae would refuse food offered by Tang Mujin or Goiyi and insist on going down to the village to beg instead—perfectly normal for a beggar sect disciple.
But over time, his idea of "alms" grew broader. Now he counted even eating food bought by his companions, or living off the meals at the Tang family's clinic, as part of that same principle.
Since the money never came from his own pouch, he considered it all alms. Worse yet, he bragged incessantly about being the one who upheld the Beggar Sect's tradition most faithfully. It was shameless beyond belief.
"He just doesn't want to manage the money, that's all."
Sighing, Tang Mujin tucked the pouch into his robe. Seeing this, Bang Ik smiled in satisfaction.
"Oh, right. You said you were heading to Yangyang, didn't you?"
"That's correct."
"On your way, you'll come across a branch of the river. You'll have to choose between the west and the east banks. It would be better to take the western side."
"Is there a reason?"
"The merchants who've come to Nogun Mountain all agree. The western village is far better than the eastern one."
A nearby merchant, overhearing, stepped closer to explain.
"The western village, Sangshin, is prosperous and its people warm-hearted. The eastern village, Hashin, is the opposite. People there are miserly, the lodging is poor, and pickpockets abound."
"Mm."
Other merchants chimed in.
"No merchant worth his salt ever stays in Hashin. It's common knowledge. Since no one does, the locals there exploit outsiders without consequence, charging outrageous prices and cheating freely."
"There's no need to compare—Sangshin is a fine village in its own right. When you depart, be sure to buy the bamboo rice at the inn there. It's cheap, delicious, and will brighten your journey to Yangyang."
The merchants all sang praises of Sangshin while deriding Hashin. In the end, even Tang Mujin nodded.
"Very well. We'll stay in Sangshin. Thank you for the advice."
The merchants looked relieved.
***
Around midday the next day, the group reached the river branch the merchants had spoken of.
They had expected a small stream, but instead it was a mighty river, well over a hundred jang wide. The current was rough, likely from recent rains. No skilled boatman would dare put a vessel on such waters.
Namgung Myeong asked,
"Sangshin is to the west, right?"
"Yes."
When given the choice between miso paste and filth, anyone sane would choose the miso.
But some people—especially young men—couldn't resist their curiosity, even when they knew it was filth.
Why was it compared in the first place? Was it truly filth? Or perhaps something unusual, something worth seeing? Such useless questions gnawed at them.
Tang Mujin and his companions were no exception.
"Honestly, aren't you curious?"
At his words, Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae both nodded.
"How bad could it be for everyone to speak like that?"
"With such a reputation, it might be worth checking out at least once."
Merchants enjoyed boasting of their broad experience, and debates about villages often became heated.
One village might be praised for cheap liquor, another for tasty food—naturally sparking disagreement. And men, by nature, delighted in finding flaws in others' opinions.
So for every merchant to unanimously slander one village without dissent was rare indeed.
And that was the problem.
If it were ordinary filth, perhaps it could be dismissed. But something so clearly, unanimously condemned only made them more curious.
The three chose the eastern path. By late afternoon, they spotted a small village.
With just over a hundred households, it was modest and far from prosperous, even at a glance.
Before entering, Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong checked their money. Tang carried about seventy silver coins, while Namgung Myeong had only eighteen coppers.
"That should be enough," Namgung Myeong said.
With an odd sense of excitement, they entered the village, wondering how dreadful it could truly be.
Though there were people about, the atmosphere was bleak.
Buildings were dilapidated, the villagers shabby, their faces strained.
One of the clearest signs of a village's spirit was its dogs.
Sure enough, Tang Mujin spotted one. Tail tucked between its legs, body crouched, the dog avoided people's eyes. But when it noticed the outsiders, it wagged its tail desperately and ran toward them.
Tang Mujin tossed it a scrap of meat, thinking,
"Indeed. A pitiful place."
As they walked on, a young boy appeared down the street, glancing repeatedly at them.
Knowing what was about to happen, Tang Mujin tucked his coin pouch securely into his robe.
Namgung Myeong, however, left his dangling carelessly at his belt.
The boy pretended to run aimlessly, then "accidentally" bumped into him.
"Ow!"
Just before stumbling to the ground, the boy snatched the pouch.
But neither Tang Mujin nor Hong Geolgae warned Namgung Myeong. If he were robbed by a child with no martial arts, they could tease him for years.
The boy shivered dramatically, bowing in apology.
"S-sorry, sir!"
Namgung Myeong gently helped him up.
"No need to be sorry. Are you hurt?"
"No, sir."
"Good. Be careful. Falling like that can be dangerous."
"I'm sorry."
The boy bowed again and scurried away.
When Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae looked back at Namgung Myeong, ready to mock him, they noticed the pouch still hung at his waist.
Namgung Myeong opened it and counted the coins.
"One, two, three, four… eighteen. And one more!"
He had more than before. The boy's own stolen coin must have ended up in his pouch. Tang Mujin clicked his tongue.
"It would've been enough not to lose yours. Did you really need to take that poor child's money too?"
"Life rarely gives you the chance to learn a lesson with just one coin. He should bow his head in thanks to me instead."
"Your words sound slick."
"They're simply true. Anyway, it seems the rumors were right—these villagers are mean-spirited and rife with petty thieves."
With that, Namgung Myeong strode toward the inn in the village center.
"We've seen the pickpockets. Now let's see just how unkind their hospitality is."
Inside the inn, they found a young girl dozing at a table.
She looked about twelve, likely helping with chores.
Startled by their arrival, she sprang up, while the three naturally took seats.
The girl approached and asked,
"What would you like to eat?"
"One serving of dumplings. And three bowls of noodles."
The girl thought for a moment, then told them the price.
"Dumplings are six coppers, noodles are four coppers a bowl—that will be eighteen altogether."
Surprisingly, the prices were normal. Namgung Myeong cheerfully counted out eighteen coins and handed them to her.
When the girl disappeared into the kitchen, an irritated man's voice rang out.
"I told you outsiders pay triple!"
It must have been the innkeeper. He had lowered his voice, so normally no one would have heard—but with their keen hearing, the three couldn't possibly miss it.
The girl mumbled in protest.
"…Last time we nearly got into trouble because of that."
"That was then. These fellows clearly know nothing of the world. You have to squeeze them while you can."
"But…"
"No buts! Stop talking back. Go fetch water. You're not resting until you've filled the whole jar."
"…Yes."
The girl left looking dejected, and a man with thick, worm-like eyebrows emerged from the kitchen.
He spoke with false generosity.
"Ah, honored guests. My apologies—the price was given incorrectly. It's not eighteen but forty-eight. That foolish child is slow with numbers… Still, to make amends, we'll reduce it by three and only charge forty-five."
Tang Mujin's eyebrow twitched.
"That price is absurdly high."
"In autumn, it would indeed be half that. But now ingredients are scarce and costly. We'd be selling at a loss otherwise."
Before Tang Mujin could reply, Namgung Myeong stretched out a hand to stop him.
"It's not as though we lack money. Don't haggle over something so trivial. Surely the innkeeper knows the fair price best."
From Namgung Myeong's pouch appeared a silver coin, slightly dented at one edge. Tang Mujin stiffened. He was certain that coin hadn't been there when they checked outside.
Don't tell me…?
He lowered his head and discreetly checked his own pouch beneath the table. His silver was still all there.
So where had Namgung Myeong's coin come from? He was sure it hadn't existed before.
With a bold voice, Namgung Myeong declared to the innkeeper,
"We have more than enough money. No need to lower the price."
Hong Geolgae chimed in,
"A child's mistake in calculation isn't a grave fault. Don't be too harsh with her."
The innkeeper's expression brightened at once.
"Ah, such generosity!"
"It's only proper."
"And so humble, too!"
Clearly thinking he had found easy prey, the innkeeper beamed and happily took their money.
When he returned to the kitchen, Hong Geolgae leaned toward Namgung Myeong and whispered,
"You didn't have that silver earlier."
"Must've been tucked in the corner of the pouch where I didn't see it."
Impossible. Earlier, they had turned the pouch inside out to count the money.
When Namgung Myeong put the change back into his pouch, the sight was even more shocking—the same dented silver coin he had just paid with now sat calmly inside again.
Tang Mujin gaped at him, but Namgung Myeong's face was calm.
How in the world…?
Soon after, the dumplings and noodles arrived. Namgung Myeong called the innkeeper again.
"By chance, do you have white liquor fit to accompany a meal?"
"We do… but the price isn't cheap."
The innkeeper watched him carefully, wondering how much he could fleece out of this apparently wealthy guest.
"Don't worry. It won't cost more than a single silver, will it?"
Namgung Myeong raised the coin in his hand. The innkeeper broke into a wide smile and hurried to fetch a bottle.
When he returned change, Namgung Myeong promptly ordered again.
"Ah, I keep troubling you with more requests. But we'll need some meat dishes too, to go with the drink."
"Yes, of course."
"Take the payment first."
Again, it was the same dented silver coin.
By now, Hong Geolgae realized something strange was happening. Both he and Tang Mujin stared hard at Namgung Myeong's right hand, but there was no telling how the coin kept returning.
Namgung Myeong continued paying with that same coin, ordering more food and drink each time—a miracle repeated again and again.
The innkeeper's cooking was below average at best.
But poor skill mattered little when one's belly was full. The three ate and drank heartily, their spirits high, while the innkeeper grinned from ear to ear, convinced he had thoroughly fleeced them.
When the meal was done, the three rose from their seats. The innkeeper rubbed his hands together.
"Will you be needing a room as well?"
"No. We're satisfied with the meal."
"Of course. Please come again anytime."
He bowed deeply.
Outside, Namgung Myeong muttered,
"Truly, the merchants were right. The people here are utterly inhospitable. It's terrible."
Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae narrowed their eyes at him. The villagers' meanness was undeniable—but Namgung Myeong was the last person who should be saying it.
"Why didn't we just stay there overnight?"
"Too bothersome if they catch on. Besides, we've three days ahead of us—I don't want to travel with that inn's food in my stomach. Better to rough it tonight and spend a proper night in Sangshin Village."
"Agreed," said Hong Geolgae immediately. He was curious about the bamboo rice the merchants had praised.
As they left Hashin Village, the girl from the inn timidly approached. She didn't look like she intended to pick their pockets.
She shyly reached out to Hong Geolgae. When he took her hand, she pressed something into it and quickly ran off.
It was a shabby little bead, thinly cracked.
To an adult, worthless junk. But to a child, perhaps a treasure.
"What's this? Did she take a liking to you?"
"As if."
Hong Geolgae turned the bead over, wondering if it had some meaning. Nothing came to mind. He shoved it into his trousers pocket and walked on with his friends.
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