The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 103 – A Small Hope

 The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 103 – A Small Hope

Dawn — the third day of training.

Jinhwa opened his eyes at dawn. He sat up on the bed and opened the old manual. Three days since he had begun training in earnest.

He practiced whenever he could. During business. During brief rests. Even while reading the manual, he never released his breathing.

"Yongcheon point."

The deepest spot on the sole of the foot. He focused every nerve there. According to the manual, a warm ember should rise.

Ten minutes passed. Five more. Nothing. Only cold dawn air brushing his toes.

"Can this… really work?"

Doubt crept in — but he could not let go of the manual. That was why he had opened it again this morning.

Yesterday he had finished Chapter One. Today he turned to the next.

Chapter Two: The Theory of Point‑to‑Point Circulation

He traced the characters slowly.

"All martial arts in the world circulate along the meridians. They flow like twelve great rivers — beginning at the dantian, traveling the body, returning to the dantian. This is the Small Heavenly Cycle. This is the Grand Heavenly Cycle."

He nodded. This was what he had learned at the Hwasan Sect.

The twelve standard meridians. The Lung Meridian of Hand‑Taiyin. The Large Intestine Meridian of Hand‑Yangming. The Stomach Meridian of Foot‑Yangming. Names he had memorized again and again.

"But those who wield fire energy are different."

His eyes widened.

"The meridians are not used. Instead, the acupoints are connected directly. Fire energy rises from the Yongcheon point to the Taegye point, continues to the Sameumagyo point, passes through the Seuran point, and reaches the Gichung point. This is point‑to‑point circulation."

"The meridians… aren't used?"

He murmured, recalling what he had learned as a healer at the Hwasan Sect. Meridians were the great channels through which energy and blood flowed. When those channels were blocked, illness arose. When needles opened them, illness healed. Martial artists widened and strengthened those meridians.

"And yet it says the meridians aren't used…"

He read on.

"A meridian is a wide river. A point‑path is a slender thread. A river requires water veins to flow — but a thread can be strung without water veins. It simply flows more slowly."

His hands trembled.

"Water veins… aren't needed?"

Hope flared. Water veins. That was what had cast him out of the Hwasan Sect. What had dropped him to the common class. What had ultimately sent him down the mountain.

Insufficient water veins meant narrow meridians. Narrow meridians meant internal energy could not flow properly. If energy could not flow, martial arts could not be learned. That was common knowledge.

But this art was different.

"Because it doesn't use the meridians… water veins aren't necessary."

He bit his lip. His heart pounded — but he deliberately steadied his breath. Nothing was certain yet. He needed to read more.

"If meridians are open, fire energy flows through. If it flows, it does not pool."

He nodded. That was how ordinary training worked.

"If meridians are blocked, fire energy lingers. If it lingers, it accumulates."

"If it's blocked… it accumulates?"

"Fire energy pooled in the points — first fills the points, then fills the body, and finally connects the points to one another."

His hand stopped.

"A river where water flows grows deep but cannot widen. A pond where water pools widens until it overflows the banks. The overflowing water carves new paths — and this is the Point‑to‑Point Fire Path."

"Point‑to‑Point Fire Path…"

He repeated it slowly.

"One whose water veins are whole — becomes a river. One whose water veins are severed — becomes a pond."

"I am… a pond."

"A river is fast but shallow. A pond is slow but deep. The one who connects all three hundred sixty‑five points must be a pond."

His hands trembled again.

It was not that he could not practice martial arts because he lacked water veins. This was an art that could only be practiced because water veins were absent.

"A pond… I must become a pond."

He took out a notebook and began writing. A habit from his healer days. Writing made things stick.

"Not meridians — direct point‑to‑point connection. Possible precisely because the water veins are severed. Fire energy must fill up before the points can link."

Writing it down brought some clarity.

He read the next sentence. And stopped.

"But this is not for just anyone."

His heart plummeted.

"Points are connected by fire energy. Only when fire energy has risen enough can the thread string the points together. If the fire energy is scant, the thread snaps. If the fire energy is great, the thread grows thick. Therefore, this art requires inborn talent. The fire energy must be innately extreme."

He held his breath.

"Inborn… talent?"

Strength drained from his hands. But he did not release the manual. With trembling eyes he chased the next line.

"Only one whose water veins are deficient — whose body lacks the energy of water — and whose fire energy is innately extreme, can walk this path. One with insufficient fire energy cannot connect even a hundred points. One with ordinary fire energy halts at two hundred. Only the constitution of Hwawang — Fire Dominance — can string all three hundred sixty‑five points with fire energy."

Hwawang. The instant he saw that word, an old memory surfaced.

Five years old. The Hwasan Sect entrance examination.

Among a crowd of children, his small hand trembling, he gripped the transparent crystal — the spirit‑testing orb.

"Focus your mind."

Following Elder Cheongheo's words, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

CRACK—

A violent red light exploded from his hand. The orb cracked.

"Th‑this is—!"

The hall erupted. Elder Cheongheo seized Jinhwa's hand and cried in a trembling voice:

"Fire attribute! And not ordinary fire energy — this force that cannot be suppressed, that erupts on its own — this is the quality of Extreme Fire!"

Extreme Fire. It meant the energy of fire had reached its apex. The senior brothers murmured. "A fire genius has appeared at the Hwasan Sect!" Back then, he had not understood what it meant. He had simply been happy at the word "genius." He entered the gifted class. Everyone held expectations.

Jinhwa looked down at the manual and smiled bitterly.

"Yes. I was fire."

Now, at last, he thought he understood. Why he had been destined to fail at the Hwasan Sect.

The Hwasan Sect was a Daoist school and a sword sect. The sword was forged metal — the attribute of gold. An energy that must be sharpened, cooled, and honed to a fine edge.

But Jinhwa was Extreme Fire. In the logic of the Five Phases, fire melts metal. Hwa geuk geum — fire overcomes gold.

"I would have needed water."

If his water veins had been whole, that water could have cooled the blazing fire and tempered the sword. That was why the Hwasan Sect valued water veins so highly. To control the burning fire and forge it into sword energy.

But Jinhwa had no water. Uncontrolled fire did not forge a sword — it melted it. That was why the sword had felt heavy in his hand. That was why his energy scattered whenever he tried to circulate it.

"The Hwasan sword… was a garment that never fit me."

It was not a lack of talent. The attributes were in opposition.

He ran his finger across the manual's cover.

永生火帝功

This book was telling him: You do not need to work metal. You do not need to force the fire cool. Simply become fire itself.

"Extreme Fire… that may be exactly what this book calls Hwawang."

The old memory and the manual's words aligned.

Even so, he steadied his breathing. The gifted class surfaced in his mind. The weight of everyone's expectations — then the fall. The greater the hope, the deeper the pain.

He looked down at the manual.

"The constitution of Hwawang…"

He murmured. His heart raced. His hands shook.

"I might be Hwawang… but…"

He spoke to himself.

"The fire energy must overflow to the extreme…"

He stared at his own palms.

At the Hwasan Sect, it had been a weakness. Strong fire energy meant nothing without water veins.

But this art was different. It did not use water veins — so their absence did not matter. Instead, fire energy was everything. Only strong fire energy could string the points together.

"This art… is my chance."

His throat tightened.

For twenty‑eight years he had lived believing he had given up martial arts. He had resolved to make his living as a shopkeeper. He had resigned himself to watching the murim from the sidelines.

Yet the worn manual in his hands was saying:

You can do this. What you already possess is enough. Fire energy is all you need.

He closed his eyes. He drew a long breath and released it slowly. When he opened his eyes, he turned to the next chapter.

Chapter Three: Unity of Body and Fire

"What determines how much fire energy the body can hold? Not the number of acupoints. Every person has the same number of points. But the size of the body differs. That vessel is the body's size."

He furrowed his brow.

"A small jar holds little wine. A large jar holds much. Even with the same three hundred sixty‑five points, a child's body and a grown man's body are not the same. Therefore, one must not train only in martial arts. The body must be cultivated as well."

"The body… must be cultivated?"

This was new.

At the Hwasan Sect, martial training and physical conditioning had been separate. Mornings for stamina. Afternoons for martial arts. Evenings for meditation.

But this art was different. It was saying that physical conditioning was martial training.

"Run. Jump. Lift. Throw. Eat. Sleep. Build strength. Each geun of muscle added lets the body hold one more fistful of fire energy. As the bones grow harder, the fire energy fills faster. Physical conditioning is the same as increasing internal energy."

He looked down at his arms.

At the Hwasan Sect, he had trained his body every day. While drifting, he had hauled heavy loads and split firewood. But during the Pungnyu‑gak years — lost in wine and music — he had weakened badly. Since starting the general store, he had recovered somewhat. But he was not yet at his Hwasan Sect level.

"My body right now… where does it stand?"

Average for a grown man. Neither especially strong nor especially weak.

"But I need to build it further."

The manual continued.

"If the body is weak at forty, the fire energy is scant and feeble. If the body is strong at forty, the fire energy is plentiful and fierce. It is not age that matters — but the vessel."

He nodded. He understood.

Acupoints were furnaces. The body was the vessel. Fire kindled in the furnaces was held in the vessel — that was the principle of this art. A small vessel held little. A large vessel held much.

"So… martial training alone isn't enough."

He murmured and wrote in his notebook.

"The body is the vessel. To grow the vessel, condition the body. To store fire energy, muscle mass matters."

After writing, he sank into thought.

"I need to start again."

He resolved. Breathing exercises alone were not enough. He had to build his body.

Dawn was breaking.

He closed the manual and stood. He opened the shop door and began the morning routine. His hands moved through the familiar motions of arranging goods.

But his mind was tangled. Point‑to‑point circulation. The Hwawang constitution. Physical conditioning. New knowledge circled in his head. It needed sorting. Expectation and doubt coexisted.

A flicker of doubt: Can it really work? Three days of training — and still nothing. The Yongcheon point was still cold. No fire energy had risen. He felt no points connecting.

"Don't rush."

He told himself — but it was not easy. He had lived twenty‑eight years without martial arts. Starting now, his heart was impatient. He wanted to feel something — soon.

The door opened.

"Shopkeeper!"

The regular farmer. He usually came with his wife — but today he was alone.

"Welcome."

Jinhwa greeted him with a smile.

"One coil of rope, please."

"Of course — one moment."

He took rope from the shelf and handed it over. The farmer paid and studied Jinhwa's face.

"Shopkeeper — have you not been sleeping?"

"Pardon?"

He asked, startled.

"A few days ago your face was bright. Today you look tired."

"Ah…"

A wry smile. Three sleepless nights — of course he was tired. Even without a mirror, there were surely shadows under his eyes.

"I've been sleeping poorly at night."

"Take care of yourself. Trade runs on stamina."

The farmer left those words and went.

Alone, Jinhwa murmured.

"Stamina…"

A passage from the manual surfaced — the one he had just read.

"The body must be cultivated as well."

Yes. Not just martial arts — the body too. If trade also ran on stamina, then all the better.

Morning passed. Afternoon came.

When customers thinned, he sat in the corner and reopened the manual. He reread Chapter Three, underlined key passages, and organized them in his notebook.

The door opened.

"Shopkeeper!"

A regular merchant. A man in his thirties who traded back and forth to the eastern region.

"Welcome."

He closed the manual and stood. His movements were slower than usual.

"You look serious today."

The merchant grinned.

"Do I?"

"The expression you wore while reading that book… it looked like you were studying something difficult."

A laugh slipped out. Apparently he could not hide it.

"There is much to learn."

"Ha — if even a man like you studies, I can't afford to be lazy."

He handed over the goods and took the payment. After the customer left, he sat again and looked at the manual.

But he could not focus. His mind was tangled. He needed time to digest everything new.

"Does it really suit me?"

Am I truly Hwawang? They said my fire energy was extreme when I was a child. But that was twenty‑three years ago. Whether it remained — he could not know.

"Is there a way to confirm?"

There was not. He could only trust the manual and train.

The sun tilted.

Evening customers began arriving. He served them as always, greeting each with a smile.

One customer entered. A man in his fifties. He smelled of liquor. His face was flushed. His steps unsteady.

"Shopkeeper!"

A loud voice.

"Welcome."

Jinhwa greeted him calmly.

"This — how much?"

The man picked up an old scabbard from the shelf.

"Five jeon."

"Five jeon? Steep! Give me a break."

"We use fixed pricing."

He smiled — but his tone was firm.

"Fixed pricing? No flexibility!"

"I'm sorry. It is our principle."

"What good is principle! Is that how you run a business?"

The man's voice rose. Jinhwa still smiled — but did not yield a single step.

"This… is how I do things."

"What?"

"If you want it, please buy it. If not, you are welcome to try another shop."

His voice was soft — but solid.

The man reddened. He slammed the scabbard down and shouted.

"You'll regret this!"

He banged the door shut and left.

A sigh escaped.

"When I'm tired… I waver more easily."

In truth, he had wavered slightly. Three sleepless nights had left his body heavy and his head aching. The thought of simply giving a discount had flickered past.

But he did not. It was principle. Fixed pricing. Break it once — and it would keep breaking.

"Still… I held."

He smiled wryly and picked up the scabbard. He set it back in its place.

Night deepened.

He lit the lantern and began night business. Murim fighters stopped by now and then.

One entered. A man who looked to be in his thirties. A sword at his hip. Sharp eyes. The bearing of a martial artist.

"Shopkeeper — do you have wound salve?"

"Yes, I do."

He took the salve from the shelf and handed it over.

"Are you injured?"

"A small cut. It's nothing."

The man paid and glanced at Jinhwa's desk. He noticed the open notebook. His eyes narrowed.

"Shopkeeper — do you train as well?"

Jinhwa looked up, startled.

"Pardon? How did you—"

"I saw what's written in your notebook. Point‑paths. Circulation. You're studying martial arts."

He was flustered — but could not hide it.

"Ah… yes. I've started."

"For the first time?"

"…Yes."

The man regarded Jinhwa for a moment. Then he nodded.

"Training… must not be rushed."

"Pardon?"

"My master always said the same thing. 'The body first. Martial arts second.'"

Jinhwa listened closely.

"Martial arts are the house. The body is the foundation. If the foundation is weak, the house collapses. Shopkeeper — strengthen the body first."

"…Thank you."

The man took his salve and left.

Alone, Jinhwa murmured.

"The body first…"

The manual had said the same. The passage he had read that morning. "The body must be cultivated as well." And just now — a murim fighter had said the same.

"Everyone… says the same thing."

It did not seem like coincidence.

He looked at his notebook and reread the day's notes.

"Right. Martial arts alone won't do."

His resolve was set. Starting tomorrow — he would build his body.

Night deepened further.

He finished business and closed the door. He went to the back room. He sat on the bed and began his breathing.

He focused on the Yongcheon point. He felt the soles of his feet. He waited for warm energy to rise.

But again — nothing. Cold.

He opened his eyes.

"As I thought… it won't come."

Frustration surged — but he opened the manual again.

Chapter Two.

"Connecting all three hundred sixty‑five points — thirty years."

He murmured.

"Thirty years…"

He turned back to Chapter One.

"Until the first ember — one year."

"One year…"

He looked at himself.

"A few days of practice… what did I expect?"

Three days. Only three. Not one year. Certainly not thirty.

"I was rushing again."

A bitter smile.

Pyeonjae's ruin had come from haste. Pungnyu‑gak's collapse too. The clothing shop's bankruptcy too. All from impatience.

Slowly. He had always vowed to go slowly. And he had forgotten again.

"Something that takes thirty years… if it worked in three days, that would be stranger."

He closed the manual.

"Slowly. Truly slowly."

He drew a deep breath. He released it slowly. He calmed his heart.

"If not in a week — then a month. If not in a month — then a year. If not in a year… still, I continue."

He lay down.

Through the window, the moon was visible. Stars shone. The night breeze was cool.

"Starting tomorrow… I run."

He murmured.

"Push‑ups too. And lifting the water jar."

He closed his eyes.

"Not just martial arts — building the body alongside it. That… is what real training means."

Sleep came. He told himself he must sleep properly tonight — and slipped under.

Before dawn.

He woke earlier than usual. His body felt light. His mind was settled. Yesterday's impatience had vanished.

He rose. He changed his clothes. He stepped into the yard without shoes.

Barefoot.

Cold earth met the soles of his feet. The dawn air was crisp. Stars still lingered in the sky.

He began walking the yard slowly.

One lap. Two laps.

Then he began to run. Slowly — but steadily.

Three laps. Four. Five.

His breath rose.

Six. Seven. Eight.

His legs grew heavy.

Nine. Ten.

He stopped.

He panted. He wiped sweat. His heart pounded.

"Weaker than my Hwasan Sect days… by far."

A bitter smile — but it was all right.

"I just start again from here."

He dropped to the ground. He began conditioning in the iron‑ox posture.

One. Two. Three.

Up to ten was manageable.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

Twenty was his limit. His arms shook. He could not push up again. He collapsed.

"This too… I'll increase."

He stood and lifted the water jar.

Heavy.

He raised it with both arms to his chest and set it down. He lifted again.

Two. Three. Four. Ten.

His arms quivered. His shoulders ached. His grip gave out.

But he was smiling.

"This is training too."

Dawn broke.

The sun rose. Morning light settled warm upon the ground. He stood in the center of the yard and looked up at the sky.

Sweat ran across his whole body. His body was heavy — but his heart was light.

"I train in martial arts."

He murmured.

"I build my body."

He clenched his fist.

"Slowly."

He inhaled.

"But surely."

He exhaled.

Let's do this.

[End of Chapter 103 | To be continued]