Synopsis:
His clothes are in tatters. With only a stick and a broken bowl, he has no fixed home and relies on the generosity of others for his meals.
He is young and handsome, of illustrious standing, with tens of millions of disciples under his command. He can stand shoulder to shoulder with emperors.
Wherever he sets down his broken bowl, peace reigns, and no one may rebel.
Wherever his Dog-Beating Staff points, the Beggars' Guild stands guard, and no other faction may set foot.
He spends his days walking his Tibetan mastiff and enjoying game, living more carefree than anyone.
He rides great steeds, drinks strong liquor, and writes astonishing poetry. He is an elegant young gentleman, and countless young women and wealthy wives willingly throw themselves at him.
He fights with fists and palms, swings his staff, and kills those who deserve it. He is an agent of justice, the waking nightmare of countless evildoers.
I'm the chief of the Beggars' Guild. Remember to show me some respect and call me Ninth Lord. Don't use my real name, Hong Jiu'an.
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.
