The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 16 — Descent

 The Eternal Flower Beggar King

Chapter 16 — Descent

Imja Year, early winter.

Jinhwa walked east. He walked, and walked again.

Three days since leaving Mount Hua.

One bundle. On his person: twenty nyang of silver, and the various things the Elders had pressed into his hands on the way out.

That was all.

Where am I going?

The road was wide. But he had nowhere to go. More precisely — he did not know where he should go.

He had thought about returning to his parents, but he lacked the courage for that too, and part of him resented them.

He had said he would head east, but east where? He did not know.

He simply walked. Toward the sun.

His feet ached. A twelve-year-old body. Still young.

This is hard…

But he could not stop. There was nowhere to go back to. The only option was forward.

Jinhwa kept walking.

On the Road

The first day was manageable enough.

He passed through Cheongpung Town and turned onto the eastern road. Pine trees lined either side, and every gust of wind set their needles clicking together. The dirt path underfoot was packed firm. Deep wheel ruts scored its surface.

Merchants came and went — pulling carts loaded with goods, or hauling wooden A-frames on their backs. Other travelers passed too. Everyone was heading somewhere.

Lots of people.

Jinhwa walked among them. Due east, with no plan. He knew no other way.

The sun climbed to its peak.

Hunger crept in. He had skipped breakfast. A modest-looking tavern stood beside the road — a few roof tiles cracked, the signboard faded.

Jinhwa stepped inside.

Two customers sat in the corner, drinking. The owner was an older woman with grease stains on her apron.

"What'll you have?"

"…A plate of dumplings, please."

"Two nyang."

Jinhwa reached into his coat and drew out the silver. It was the first time he had ever spent his own money. The coins felt heavy in his hand. Money from Mount Hua. How long could he make it last?

Two nyang…

He placed two coins on the counter. The woman took them and disappeared into the kitchen.

A short while later, the dumplings arrived. Steam curled upward from the plate. Five of them, arranged in a dish.

So this is what two nyang buys.

Jinhwa picked up his chopsticks. He lifted one dumpling to his mouth. It was scalding — his tongue nearly burned — but he endured it. He chewed. Meat and vegetables mingled inside, the flavor spreading across his palate.

It was good.

He thought of the meals at Mount Hua. Back then he had eaten without a second thought. The food appeared every day; it was simply there. But things were different now. Everything cost money.

It goes fast.

He finished the dumplings. His stomach was still not quite full, but he could not order more. Twenty nyang — how long would it last? He did the arithmetic. Two meals a day, at this rate… less than a month.

I need to be careful.

The First Night

He found a tavern before sundown.

It stood along the main road, mercifully. The sign read Songhak House. A decent-sized building — two stories.

"Can I stay the night?"

"One nyang."

The innkeeper said.

One nyang…

He had already spent two. Another one here. At three nyang a day…

A week and it's gone.

But there was no choice. He could not sleep on the road. It was winter. The cold was bitter.

"…I'll stay."

He handed over the silver.

The room was cramped.

He shared it with three other travelers. Merchants, by the look of them, lying with their bundles for pillows.

One began to snore. A deep, rumbling sound. Another joined in. Someone smacked his lips in his sleep.

Jinhwa lay in the corner, his bundle under his head, wearing every layer he had. It was still cold. The floor was frigid — the ondol had not been properly stoked.

Sleep would not come.

Partly the snoring. But mostly the unease.

I miss Mount Hua.

He thought of his quarters. Warm. Clean. A room of his own. Every morning, the sound of the bell. His senior brothers waking him.

Now…

I'm alone.

Jinhwa stared at the ceiling. In the darkness, he could just make out the wooden rafters.

Outside, the wind howled. A sharp, biting winter wind.

How… am I going to live?

After tossing for a long time, he sat up.

He opened the window. The moon hung outside — full and bright.

He had seen that same moon from Mount Hua. From the courtyard of Azure Cloud Hall, from the training grounds, on solitary walks at night.

Grandmaster Cheongheo… the Medicine King Elder…

He missed them.

But he could not go back. He had already left. It had been his own choice.

Bear it.

Jinhwa closed the window and lay down again. He shut his eyes. The snoring persisted, but sleep came slowly.

The Second Day

The next morning.

He rose early. The others were still asleep. Jinhwa gathered his bundle in silence and slipped out.

Outside the tavern, the morning sun was climbing. The sky flushed red. Cold air stabbed at his lungs. His breath came out in white clouds.

How far can I get today?

East. Just east.

He followed the road.

Around midday, a large village came into view. Tiled rooftops clustered together. People moved in the streets. A market appeared to be underway — the bustle carried from a distance.

A village.

Jinhwa walked in.

The Blue Cloud Inn

The market was broad.

Grain sellers, cloth sellers, fish sellers — each raising their voice above the rest.

"Fresh fish!"

"Fine cotton!"

"Delicious rice cakes!"

Jinhwa wandered through slowly, taking it in. He had never seen anything like this. Nothing at Mount Hua had prepared him for it.

So this is how people live.

A thought struck him. How did all these people feed themselves? By selling goods? By working?

Do I… need to do something too?

He was hungry. But he had to save his money. He passed the old woman selling rice cakes. The warm, toasted smell reached him. He kept walking.

In the center of the village, a large inn caught his eye.

The Blue Cloud Inn.

It was a sizable building. Two stories. The roof tiles gleamed, and the signboard lettering was crisp and bold. People streamed in and out. Business seemed good.

Blue Cloud…

It reminded him of Azure Cloud Hall at Mount Hua.

Same name.

Jinhwa hesitated a moment, then went inside.

The inn was spacious.

Customers sat scattered about — some drinking, some eating. The noise was considerable. Laughter, the clink of cups, the clatter of dishes. Everything ran together.

The smell of scallions frying in oil drifted from the kitchen. Thick and greasy. The tang of liquor mingled in.

Jinhwa stood by the entrance and looked around.

Servers moved in constant motion — carrying food, pouring drinks, clearing tables. Everyone was busy.

So that's what working looks like.

One of the servers noticed him. A young man in an apron.

"Hey, kid — you eating?"

"Ah… I'm…"

"No money, get out."

The server flicked his hand — a shooing gesture.

Jinhwa faltered.

Could I… find work here?

Then a voice came from behind.

"Hold on."

He turned. A middle-aged man stood there.

Around forty, by the look of him. Large build, a thick and unkempt beard. He had the bearing of the owner — his clothes were clean, and a money pouch hung at his waist.

"What are you here for?"

His voice was low. There was weight behind it.

"I'm… looking for work."

"Work?"

The owner looked Jinhwa up and down. A sharp, appraising gaze — the kind a man uses to put a price on goods.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"Twelve…"

The owner folded his arms. He seemed to think it over.

"What can you do?"

"I…"

Jinhwa opened his mouth, then stopped.

What could he do?

Martial arts? No. Medicine? He could not place needles on his own. He had no herbs. Scholarship? Useless in a place like this.

I have… nothing.

For Jinhwa, stripped of all confidence, nothing came to mind.

The owner sighed.

"So you can't do anything."

"…No."

"Fine. You can run errands."

"What?"

Jinhwa looked up.

"Sweep. Wash dishes. Haul water. That kind of thing."

The owner said it flatly.

"Two meals a day and a place to sleep. No pay."

"…No pay?"

"What's a kid going to do that's worth paying for? A roof and meals — count yourself lucky."

The owner turned away.

"Take it or leave it."

Jinhwa hesitated.

No pay…

He had fifteen nyang left. At this rate, it would be gone in a week. And then what?

He said meals and a place to sleep…

For now… I'll try it.

"I'll do it."

"Good. Go wait over there."

The owner pointed toward the kitchen.

The First Job

He went to the kitchen.

A fire roared in the hearth. A large cauldron hung over it, broth boiling inside. Steam billowed upward. The smell of frying scallions was stronger here — thick and close.

A server stood by the stove, tapping a ladle against the rim of a pot. He looked about twenty. Tall, with a deep voice.

"New kid?"

"Yes."

"Name?"

"Oh Jinhwa."

"Jinhwa? Got it. I'm Seokho."

Seokho gave the pot one more rap with the ladle. Clang. The sound rang out.

"The work's simple. Wash dishes, sweep, haul water."

"Yes."

"It's hard. Brace yourself."

Seokho turned and pointed to the far corner of the kitchen.

"Start with that."

Jinhwa followed his gaze.

Where Seokho pointed, dishes were piled in a mountain. Large bowls to small wine cups, every size imaginable. Each plate was coated in a thick film of grease, and dried broth had left stains everywhere.

Beside the pile sat a large water basin. The water had already gone lukewarm, and a slick of oil floated on the surface.

All of… this?

"What are you standing there for? Move."

Seokho rapped the pot again. Clang clang.

"…Yes."

Jinhwa rolled up his sleeves.

He sat before the basin.

He plunged his hands in. The water was cold — searingly cold. His fingertips went numb in an instant. Winter made it inevitable, but he had not expected it to bite this hard.

He picked up a bowl. A large one. Grease clung to it in a thick layer. It felt slippery in his grip.

He grabbed a rag and scrubbed. The grease would not give. He bore down harder. It came away, little by little.

This is hard…

At Mount Hua, he had only needed to set his bowl down after a meal. Someone took it away. He had never washed a dish in his life.

He finished one bowl and set it aside. Picked up the next. Scrubbed again.

He kept going.

An hour passed.

His hands had swollen red. Too long in the cold water. His fingers were stiff and refused to bend properly.

Blisters were forming where the rag chafed against his skin, over and over. They stung.

It hurts…

But he could not stop.

The dishes kept coming. Every time a customer finished eating, the servers brought more. The mountain showed no sign of shrinking.

There's no end to this…

Two hours passed.

His arms had gone numb. The same posture, the same motion, scrubbing without pause. His shoulders ached. His lower back throbbed.

Still, he kept going.

Seokho walked past and said:

"Take your time. It never ends anyway."

"…Yes."

"Come evening, there'll be more."

More…?

Jinhwa looked at the pile. Half of it still remained.

When am I going to finish this?

The First Evening

The sun was sinking.

Seokho called out.

"Hey! Jinhwa! Go draw water!"

"Yes!"

Jinhwa scrambled to his feet. His legs had gone numb, and he stumbled. The well was behind the inn.

He ran to it.

He lowered the bucket. Drew the water up. Poured it into the basin.

He lifted the basin.

It was heavy.

Ngh…

Jinhwa clenched his teeth and heaved it up. It was far too heavy for a twelve-year-old's arms. He staggered. Water sloshed over the rim.

He managed to carry it to the kitchen.

"Too slow! Faster!"

Seokho rapped the pot. Clang clang clang.

"I'm sorry!"

He set the basin down. His arms shook.

"Go again! One more!"

"…Yes!"

He ran back to the well.

By evening, the crowd had swelled.

The inn grew louder. The smell of liquor thickened. Drunken revelers added their clamor to the din.

"More wine!"

"Where's the food!"

The servers moved faster.

The dishes piled higher.

Jinhwa kept washing. His hands screamed, but he could not stop.

Night fell.

Jinhwa collapsed in front of the dish pile.

Every part of him ached. Hands, arms, shoulders, back, legs — all of it.

He was ravenous. He had not eaten a thing since morning.

I can't take much more…

Seokho came over. He held a rice bowl in one hand.

"Eat."

He set it down.

Rice and kimchi.

That was all.

So this is… dinner.

At Mount Hua, meals came with several side dishes. Soup. Seasoned greens. Everything warm and well-prepared.

But this was not Mount Hua.

Jinhwa took the bowl and laid the kimchi over the rice. He took a bite.

…Not good.

But he was starving. He kept eating. He finished every grain and set the bowl down.

The First Night

After the meal, Seokho spoke.

"Your sleeping spot's over there."

"Where?"

"The storehouse."

The storehouse?

Jinhwa followed Seokho out the back of the inn. A small shed stood there — a crude wooden structure. The door groaned on its hinges.

Seokho pulled it open.

Inside, straw had been spread on the floor. That was all. The space was cramped — barely four pyeong. A single small window. Wind crept through the gaps.

"I'm sleeping… here?"

"Yeah. If you're cold, pile on more straw."

Seokho left. The door swung shut.

Jinhwa was alone.

Reality

He sat in the storehouse.

It was dark. Only a sliver of moonlight reached through the small window. The straw smelled of dust and dry grass.

It was cold. Wind slipped through the cracks and grazed the back of his neck.

So this is where I sleep.

He thought of his quarters at Mount Hua.

Warm. The ondol floor heated through, the blankets thick. The room was spacious. It was his alone.

Clean. Not a mote of dust. A proper bed.

Quiet. At night, only the distant sound of the bell.

Back then… I had no idea.

How good I had it.

Jinhwa opened his bundle.

A few changes of clothes — the ones he had worn at Mount Hua. Threadbare now.

A few books. Among them, the heart method manual Elder Cheongheo had given him.

The Mount Hua plaque. A small wooden token — proof that he had been a disciple.

This is everything…

Fifteen nyang of silver remained. The pouch was light.

I have to make it last.

Outside, the wind keened.

A sharp, howling winter wind.

Jinhwa layered on his clothes. Two garments, one over the other. Still cold.

He gathered straw around himself. Pulled it over his body. It prickled against his skin, but he bore it.

So this is how it is.

The world was harsh.

He had not known, at Mount Hua. Food appeared. A bed was waiting. All he had to do was train.

But here, everything was different.

Work to eat. Work to sleep.

This… is reality.

He looked at his hands.

Swollen red. Blistered. The skin at every knuckle had cracked open — the price of a day's dishwashing.

It hurt.

I studied medicine… but I can't even treat my own hands.

No needles. No herbs. He could do nothing alone.

Just bear it.

Jinhwa clenched his fists. Pain flared as his hands tightened — a sharp, stinging pulse.

Looking at the blisters, he thought of his classmates' hands in the Gifted Hall. Their calluses had come from gripping swords.

But then Muhyeok's face surfaced in his mind, and Jinhwa shook his head to drive it away.

He looked up at the ceiling.

Old wooden rafters. Gaps everywhere. Wind crept through each one.

What… am I going to do with my life?

He had left Mount Hua, but now that he was out, he had no idea what to do.

Martial arts — impossible. Medicine — he could not practice it properly. Scholarship — worthless here.

I can't do anything.

Dishwashing. Sweeping. Hauling water.

That was the extent of it.

How long… will it be like this?

Elder Cheongheo's words surfaced, unbidden.

"Someday, somewhere — your time will come."

My time…

When is that?

He was twelve. He could not practice martial arts. He had all but been cast out of Mount Hua.

When will it come?

He did not know.

Just… survive.

Resolve

Sleep would not come.

His body was spent, but his mind churned. He had not known that exhaustion past a certain point loops back into wakefulness. Twelve years old was still very young.

Will it… always be like this?

Where do I go next?

He was afraid.

But there was no alternative.

I can't go back to Mount Hua.

I have to move forward.

Jinhwa sat up.

He took the heart method manual from his bundle. The book Elder Cheongheo had given him.

The Mount Hua Heart Method…

He opened it. Dense characters packed the worn pages. He read.

The Qi Gathering Method.

The foundational heart method of Mount Hua.

Will it ever… work for me?

He did not know.

But he could not throw it away.

This is… my root.

Jinhwa closed the book and settled into position. As he had done so many times before, he tried to feel something in his dantian.

He closed his eyes. Steadied his breathing.

Let me feel it…

But there was nothing. As always, nothing. The qi hovered just beyond reach, like a shape in fog that dissolves the moment you step toward it.

How long he sat there, he could not say.

Jinhwa opened his eyes.

It's no use.

He gave up and lay down.

For now… just try.

The End of the First Day

He pulled the straw over himself and lay still.

He was exhausted. His eyes fell shut.

Sleep took him quickly.

He dreamed.

In the dream, he saw Mount Hua. The stone stairway before Azure Cloud Hall — the same steps where an instructor had carried him on his back, the very first time he climbed the mountain.

Halfway up the stairs, Elder Cheongheo stood waiting.

He was smiling.

"Go well."

Jinhwa reached out.

But he could not reach him. Elder Cheongheo receded. Mount Hua receded with him.

They vanished into the mist.

He opened his eyes.

Dawn.

Light seeped through the cracks in the storehouse door. A pale, tentative glow.

Morning.

Jinhwa rose. His body was stiff and sore. Shoulders and back knotted tight. His hands still throbbed.

He pushed the door open and stepped out.

The world was quiet. The sun had not yet risen. The sky was brightening by slow degrees.

He went to the well. Drew water with the bucket. Splashed the cold water over his face. His skin burned with the shock of it.

Get it together.

He made a silent vow.

Today, too… I'll get through it.

Just then, a voice bellowed from the inn.

"Oh Jinhwa!!!! Get over here!"

The owner's voice. Loud and booming.

Jinhwa scrambled toward it.

"Yes! I'm here!"

He burst into the inn. Seokho was already at work in the kitchen, rapping his ladle against the pot. Clang clang.

"Customers already pouring in. Stay sharp!"

"Yes!"

From Azure Cloud Hall to the Blue Cloud Inn.

Jinhwa's day began.

[End of Chapter 16]