The frantic, eye-watering hunger for information suddenly hit a wall. The Beggar Sage stopped trembling, forcing his posture back into a composed, almost dignified stance. For a second, the Beggar Sage looked like the normal, strategic master he had been pretending to be for the past two months—the tame, unthreatening persona the Psyker had explicitly advised him to maintain so as to not spook the 'alien'.
But the crack in his mask had already formed when Merun mentioned the revelations of the future of information technology, and the raw, manic energy was leaking through the edges.
"Kek... kekeke," the Sage's voice rattled through the speaker, a low, raspy chuckle that completely ruined his dignified posture.
Finally, he gave up on the act entirely, a sharp, mocking grin stretching across the projection's face as he leaned forward. "Fine! Keep your secrets for now. You want to slink back to your family? Spare me the bullshit and listen up. Five agendas. No negotiations."
Merun crossed his arms. Watching the old man's sudden transition from a polite hologram to a twitching, data-addicted gremlin, a thought crossed his mind. Was he always this crazy?
Well... he was.
He didn't mind it, though. In fact, it was almost a relief. This unhinged, pragmatic, information-starved lunatic was exactly who the Beggar Sage was supposed to be in the original novel. The polite, almost patient act he'd been doing all this time was the real lie.
"Lay them out," Merun said.
The holographic beggar held up a single finger, letting out a sharp snort.
"First! I know you, Merun Furutsu. You're transparent. Your family comes first above all else, bla, bla, bla," the Sage taunted, waving a dismissive, spectral hand. "I accept it. I don't care. But beneath the dirt, you're with the Beggar Sect. So, to the locals, you're just a son of a notable household in Gifu returning home, but beneath the surface? You are our deep-cover asset. A spy."
The projection's raspy voice dropped into a cold, transactional hiss.
"Don't mistake this for a charity. While your family is your heart, this Sect is your shield. To keep that shield active, I don't need you to bow to a flag. I need currency. You keep my information network omniscient, or the shield vanishes. Simple math, kekeke!"
The Sage raised a second finger, tapping his own temple aggressively, completely removing the act he'd been doing following Psyker's suggestion.
"Second! You are a walking, breathing treasure trove of otherworldly secrets... if some influential martial artist peeks thoroughly into that thick skull of yours, or hypnotize you to tell your secrets, they'll hunt you to the ends of Gaia. You aren't leaving my sight without a lock on your brain."
"I can just protect my mind with ki," Merun grunted.
"Idiot!" the Sage barked impatiently, cutting him off without a shred of politeness. "When you see a heavily fortified compound, what does that tell you? A wall screams that you're hiding something! A blind man could smell the suspicion! No, you'll learn techniques the sect uses to avoid that issue entirely; even us non-martials can use it."
The old man cackled, a wicked, mocking sound. "Don't worry about finding teachers. You've already procured us a few. You remember those Martial Squires you thoroughly humiliated back in Wakaza? Yeah, them."
"That's going to be funny." Merun thought about meeting them again.
"Third," the Sage pressed on, snapping a third finger up. "You vanished for months and suddenly spiked enough power to threaten Senior-realm martial artists. Sekigaharan martial artists might be battle-hungry and somewhat dull, but they aren't blind. A peasant doesn't just stumble into that kind of strength without triggering alarms. We've already fabricated your alibi."
Merun tilted his head. "What's the story?"
"The Penitence of the Iaiashin," the Beggar Sage spat out, clearly amused by his own deception. "You will tell them that after your little stunt—illegally learning the Divine Arsenal and physically striking a Noble Martial Master like Iaiashin herself—you were secretly detained. You'll claim they chose to exploit your disposable potential rather than execute you. Your absence was spent in hard training, executing high-risk missions as legal repayment. A classic tale of noble 'mercy', kek!"
Merun raised an eyebrow. "Will my family accept such an excuse? The Iaiashin Household could easily debunk that claim."
"It'll match perfectly. I've already pulled the strings... met the Iaiashin head herself... scary bitch." The Beggar Sage laughed, a raspy, triumphant wheeze. "Itahaya Iaiashin herself will officially validate the lie if anyone asks. Except for her, no one knows the Beggar Sect is pulling your strings, of course. They just think they're playing their own arrogant little game. Let them think it."
Martial Master Iaiashin... Merun remembered how easily she had handled him on that fateful day. If he hadn't attacked her, would things have gone differently?
"Wait, she's on board? How? Why?" Merun asked, genuinely surprised to hear that someone like Itahaya Iaiashin was onboard with the plan.
The Beggar Sage smiled through the flickering blue light, the expression twisting the vessel's face into something deeply amused. "How? Because you are actually indebted to her, little ape. Let me ask you a question: how do you think you survived after your little scuffle with Noritsugu?"
Merun blinked, his mind flashing back to the brutal aftermath of that fight. He had been on the absolute brink of death.
He had wondered how he lived all this time. She had something to do with that?
"For some reason," the Beggar Sage chuckled, a raspy, knowing sound. "She actually fed you her only supply of Fruit from the Tree of Healings. That is the only reason you survived!"
Merun's eyes widened in genuine shock. His breath caught in his throat as the revelation hit him. That's how he had survived? The legendary, OP fruit—Sekigahara's national treasure?
"Why?" Merun demanded, his voice dropping into a tense, bewildered whisper. "Why the hell would she do that for me?"
"I dunno! Kekeke!" The Beggar Sage laughed loudly, completely unbothered by Merun's confusion. "That woman always keeps her own counsel, and there's a reason the Kinzoku haven't been utterly destroyed by the other major clans, even though they currently have no Martial Sage to protect them. She is quite the capable one. But there is one thing we are absolutely sure of: she knows of your potential. It's highly possible she wants you to truly join their clan down the line... so we'll take advantage of that!"
The holographic old man tapped his chin, his sharp eyes glinting. "Especially since our scouts reported that she has grown quite fond of your family during your absence."
"Huh? How did that even happen?" Merun scratched the back of his neck, his brain short-circuiting.
"It's a long-ass story," the Beggar Sage snapped, clicking his tongue in sudden impatience, maybe as a petty revenge for Merun stopping the conversation about satellites. "But that's not important right now. That's just Agenda Three. Let's move on!"