The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 100 – The Old Books

 The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 100 – The Old Books

Five days after the bundle appeared.

Several days had passed. The owner of the book bundle never came. No customer asked about it. It was slowly becoming an unclaimed parcel. Each morning, while cleaning, Jinhwa checked the cloth bundle in the corner. Still there. Only the dust grew thicker.

The fifth morning.

He finished sweeping and sat at the counter. He stared at the bundle. He had waited days. No one had come for it. It seemed safe to sort through now. It was only taking up space. And — he was curious what was inside.

"By now… it should be fine to open."

He murmured and stood.

He lifted the bundle from the corner. It was heavier than expected. The cord binding the cloth was pulled tight. It took time to undo. He loosened it slowly. Several old books emerged from within. He took them out one by one and laid them across the counter.

Dust billowed up.

"Old indeed."

He brushed off the dust and examined the books. All were worn. Some had tattered covers. Some had pages yellowed with age. But the writing was still legible.

The first book.

Nongseo — "Book of Agriculture."

A book on farming. How to prepare soil. When to sow seeds. How to manage irrigation. Jinhwa flipped a few pages, then closed it. He had no connection to farming. No interest arose.

The second book.

Uihak Ipmun — "Introduction to Medicine."

A basic medical text. Names and effects of herbs. Simple prescriptions. Jinhwa felt a flicker of interest — but closed this one too. He already knew all of it from texts he had studied at the Hwasan Sect. No need to read it again.

The third book.

Sangin Pildok — "Essential Reading for Merchants."

A trade manual. How to buy goods. How to sell. How to set prices. How to handle customers. Jinhwa smiled wryly. He had already learned these things with his body. No need to read them in a book.

The fourth and fifth books were similar.

A poetry anthology — Simun Seon. Someone's travel journal — a japnok. Jinhwa stacked them to one side and shook his head.

"Ordinary books."

He murmured.

He could not tell who the owner had been. Likely someone who enjoyed studying. Someone with wide interests. Probably a scholar of some kind. The books were too good to discard but impossible to sell. He could just shelve them somewhere.

"Let me tidy up."

He reached out to restack the books.

That was when he noticed it.

At the very bottom of the bundle — hidden between the other books — one more volume. Thin.

"Hm?"

He pulled it out. It was far more worn than the others. The cover was ragged. A title was faintly written — barely visible. But the moment it settled in his hand, something felt different. It was light. The paper was thin. And unlike the other books, the smell of age was far deeper.

He brushed the dust away carefully.

The characters on the cover emerged little by little — still faint. He narrowed his eyes and peered closely.

"Yeong… saeng…"

The first two characters.

"Hwa… je…"

Two more after that.

"Gong?"

When he confirmed the last character, his heart began to pound.

Yeong Saeng Hwa Je Gong — "The Eternal Living Flame Emperor Art."

"A martial arts… secret manual?"

The murmur slipped out on its own.

His chest hammered. His hands trembled faintly. He swallowed. A secret manual. In a pile of ordinary books — between a farming guide and a medical text — a martial arts manual had been hiding. Jinhwa stared at it blankly for a moment.

The Hwasan Sect's scripture hall surfaced.

Countless manuals lined the shelves. He had stood before them as a child — only able to look. No water meridians. Unable to learn martial arts. He could only scan the spines with his eyes and turn away.

"Back then…"

A bitter smile formed.

"I could look — but never learn."

Now was no different.

His lack of water meridians had not changed. His inability to practice martial arts remained. Even if he read this manual, it would mean nothing. But still — he was curious. What kind of art was it? How was it trained? What was written inside?

Jinhwa opened the manual slowly.

The pages had yellowed. They crinkled at his touch. The writing was clear but looked ancient. On the first page, beneath the title, a brief foreword of sorts was written. He skimmed it and turned to the next page.

Chapter One — Simbeop (Heart Method)

"Chukhwa — gathering fire. Yeonhwa — igniting fire. Aphwa — compressing fire…"

A martial art that dealt with fire energy, it seemed.

He read further. How to gather fire energy in the dantian. How to circulate it through the meridians. How to regulate breathing. The details were dense. Some parts resembled the basic simbeop he had learned at the Hwasan Sect — but others diverged.

"The Hwasan Sect followed the Daoist path but primarily used the sword — an art rooted in the metal attribute…"

He turned the page, thinking.

Chapter Two — Emission Method

"Release through the Nogung point in the palm…"

He tilted his head.

Emitting energy through the Nogung point? The Hwasan Sect method spread energy from the dantian throughout the body to strengthen it. But this art described pushing energy outward through the palms. A different approach. Interesting — but irrelevant to him regardless.

He kept turning pages.

One page. Two. Three.

Then his brow furrowed.

"Wait."

Something was wrong.

He turned pages faster. Five. Six. Seven. He reached the last page. The oddity did not go away.

"There are no… techniques?"

He went back to the beginning and turned slowly once more.

The simbeop was there. The emission method was there. Precautions and warnings were there. But actual techniques — not a single one. No sword forms. No palm strikes. No footwork. No postures or movements were illustrated. Just text — packed dense from edge to edge.

Jinhwa tilted his head.

"That's strange."

He murmured.

The manuals in the Hwasan Sect's scripture hall had been different. Whether sword forms or palm methods, there had been diagrams of postures. Meridian pathways had been marked. Critical acupoints had been labeled. Detailed instructions on how to move. But this manual was different.

Not a single technique.

Only simbeop and emission theory. The rest was nothing but abstract principles.

"Something is…"

He flipped through the manual back and forth.

He checked for missing pages — torn or fallen out. No sign of that. Nothing seemed to be missing front or back. It appeared to have been made this way from the start.

"Is it incomplete?"

The question arose.

The absence of techniques could mean the art was never finished. Or perhaps it was originally two volumes — and only one survived. Or the techniques had been passed down orally, never recorded in writing.

Either way — it was strange.

Jinhwa closed the manual and sighed.

"A martial art with no techniques…"

He murmured.

Probably made by some unknown third‑rate murim practitioner. The manuals of a great sect like the Hwasan Sect were systematic and refined, each one complete. But this was different. Only simbeop — no techniques. Most likely abandoned before completion. Or never a proper art to begin with.

"Useless, then."

A bitter smile.

He felt foolish for having been excited. He had no water meridians. He could not practice martial arts regardless. Even if this manual had been legitimate, he could never have learned it. An incomplete manual without techniques was more pointless still.

But he could not throw it away.

He held the manual and hesitated.

"A martial arts manual… is still a manual."

He murmured.

Even if it was third‑rate. Even without techniques. Even if useless. Someone's effort lived inside it. Someone had spent time creating it. Someone had agonized over it. Someone had wanted it preserved in writing.

The Hwasan Sect days surfaced.

He had been the same. They told him he was useless — no water meridians. They ruled he could never practice martial arts. Everyone gave up on him. But still, he had held on to the very end. He had feared being discarded. He had hated being called useless. So he endured.

This manual might be the same.

Never completed — but it did not want to be discarded. It might hold meaning for someone. It might prove useful someday. Perhaps it had been left behind believing exactly that.

"For now… I'll just keep it."

He nodded.

It was of no use to him. Without water meridians, how could he practice martial arts? But throwing it away felt wrong. One never knew. If someone who needed it appeared someday, he could hand it over then.

He opened the drawer beside the counter.

Inside lay the odds and ends he had collected while running the shop. A worn brush. An ink stone gone dry. A few half‑used sheets of paper. Small things customers had left behind. He placed the manual carefully among them.

"Someday… someone who needs it will appear."

He murmured and closed the drawer.

He sat at the counter again and prepared to greet customers as always. The other books could go on a shelf. The manual could stay in the drawer. This matter was finished.

"Right — time for business."

He murmured.

Sunlight streamed into the shop. Footsteps sounded from outside. An ordinary day was beginning. He picked up the broom and began sweeping the yard. Cold morning air filled his lungs. The broom's texture pressed against his palms. Fallen leaves gathered to one side.

Routine.

An ordinary routine that had nothing to do with martial arts, secret manuals, or water meridians.

But now and then, his gaze drifted toward the drawer.

"A martial arts manual…"

The words circled in his head.

A strange manual with no techniques. An incomplete art — probably made by some third‑rate murim practitioner. Something that had absolutely nothing to do with him. Just an object sleeping inside a drawer.

"This has nothing to do with me."

He murmured.

I am a shopkeeper now. True — I started the general store dreaming of encounters with murim fighters, unable to fully abandon martial arts. True — I still practice simbeop and train my body from time to time. But reality is reality.

The broom is my weapon. The shop is my training hall. My customers are my senior brothers.

A secret manual… tempting, yes. But I accepted my meridian deficiency long ago.

He closed the drawer — but he knew what lay inside. He had stored the manual — but he remembered what it said. He tried to ignore it — but the thought kept returning.

Jinhwa stopped sweeping and looked up at the sky.

Clear — not a single cloud. The sun was warm. Winter was approaching. Not much of the year remained. His twenty‑ninth birthday was drawing near. Another year was passing.

"Slowly… just living."

He murmured.

No need to hurry. No need to rush. Just live each day with sincerity. Martial arts or trade — what mattered was not stopping. Not giving up. Walking one's own path.

He picked up the broom again.

Sweeping the yard. Tidying the shop. Greeting customers. That was what he could do now. What he needed to do. What he wanted to do.

The manual in the drawer was being forgotten.

No — he was trying to forget.

But it would not fully disappear.

[End of Chapter 100]