Chomu-do quickly read through the letter that Cheon Myeong-hak had handed him.
*"I have heard the news that the Young Merchant Lord of Yongmyeong Trading House is to be officially invested with his title.
As a long-time friend of the Yongmyeong Trading House, I extend my heartfelt congratulations.
Therefore, at this investiture ceremony, I wish to introduce to you the Young Sect Master who will one day lead Jonguimun.I have also heard rumors that the Yongmyeong Trading House has recently gathered an impressive number of warriors. Would it not be good to strengthen harmony through a small friendly sparring match?
Surely this would make the investiture of the Young Merchant Lord far more meaningful and splendid.I ask this not for myself, but to show my incompetent son more of the world. Please, I beg you not to refuse.— Master of Jonguimun, So U-pa."*
As Chomu-do's eyes moved down the letter, they flickered with unease.
"This is… practically a threat, is it not?"
"Ha… how could you call it a threat? It's merely a request to build harmony through a friendly spar."
"That's exactly what makes it a threat. Since when do martial clans request a 'friendly spar' with a trading house?"
By the time he raised his head, Chomu-do's face had hardened like stone. Unable to meet his gaze directly, Cheon Myeong-hak forced a bitter smile as he spoke.
"I suspect this is a warning about the Yongmyeong Trading House expanding its number of warriors."
"And what is wrong with a trading house strengthening itself for its own defense?"
"In the past few years, we've expanded our businesses in many directions, yet we haven't asked Jonguimun for additional protection. Don't you see? This is their way of saying they won't sit by while we lessen our reliance on them."
Cheon Myeong-hak pressed a hand against his forehead, groaning in frustration. Chomu-do, understanding the situation, let out a long sigh in his heart.
'Too hasty.'
A martial clan had only so many ways to earn wealth. Either they ran businesses in their own name, or they offered protection to weaker trading houses in exchange for fees.
Jonguimun belonged to the latter. Yongmyeong Trading House, meanwhile, had begun as a small shop and grown into one of the five greatest houses of Chang'an.
For a clan that had long collected protection fees from such a house, watching it grow so large was… uncomfortable, to say the least.
'But the Merchant Lord did not play along.'
Five years ago, Cheon Myeong-hak had recruited Chomu-do to train his warriors and even brought in the master swordsman, Nangwi-geom, Jang I-bo. With such strength, the house had boldly expanded its businesses and now stood among the top three trading houses of Chang'an.
For Jonguimun, watching Yongmyeong rise independently must have been unbearable.
'…This can't be avoided.'
Refusing would be best, but it was hardly possible. The master of Jonguimun himself had written, even humbly using the word "beg."
It was clear: they intended to use this chance to assert their superiority. If the Merchant Lord refused, they would surely seize upon it to cause trouble.
Resigned, Chomu-do turned to Cheon Myeong-hak.
"You must know, the warriors they bring will be handpicked. Winning will be difficult."
"I know. But we cannot suffer disgrace at the Young Merchant Lord's investiture, can we?"
"…I understand."
Chomu-do exhaled heavily. His frustration had no outlet.
"I cannot promise victory, but I will do my utmost. However, there are things I must ask of you as well."
"Of course. Say the word."
"First, we will need the help of Nangwi-geom. Also, if possible, bring in Seol An-geum, whom you introduced to me previously."
"Understood. Anything else?"
"Limit the number of participants. No more than five at most. Aside from Nangwi-geom, none of our warriors can compare with Jonguimun's disciples."
Cheon Myeong-hak nodded grimly. No matter the training of recent years, they could hardly compete with warriors of a sect affiliated with the Zhongnan Sect.
"My strategy is this: three of our warriors lose, Nangwi-geom wins, and the last bout is fought as evenly as possible."
"And that last bout…?"
"I will take it."
Chomu-do's face darkened.
"Of course, the chance of me losing is high. But even so, it may preserve a shred of the Yongmyeong Trading House's honor."
"…Very well. So be it."
Cheon Myeong-hak sighed, shoulders sagging.
"I'm placing too heavy a burden upon you, Instructor Cho."
"This is not your fault, Merchant Lord."
Chomu-do offered a bitter smile, but his words were sincere. The real fault lay with the greed of Jonguimun—no, with the Zhongnan Sect above them, who demanded tribute.
And so Chomu-do sank into heavy thought. This matter would not end quietly.
"Eh? What did you just say?"
"As I told you."
Later, Cheon Myeong-hak went to see Jang I-bo. Unsurprisingly, the swordsman looked taken aback. Cheon Myeong-hak, unable to meet his eyes, spoke carefully.
"I know it is a great imposition… but, could you lend us your strength, just this once?"
"Hmm…"
Jang I-bo stroked his chin in silence. After a long moment, he finally nodded.
"…Very well."
"Truly? Thank you!"
"There's no need for thanks. I too belong to the Yongmyeong Trading House. To fight for it is natural."
"That you think so… I am deeply grateful."
Cheon Myeong-hak bowed repeatedly. To him, this was merely for the sake of appearances. Yet Jang I-bo's thoughts were heavier.
'Things are turning serious.'
Once, he had watched his own Jang Family Manor crumble. And he had learned: great houses never fall in one blow. It always begins with small disputes, small cracks.
'Jonguimun…'
They wore the mask of an orthodox sect, but inside they were no better than greedy demons. If his instincts were right, this was only the beginning. Yongmyeong would lose more and more, until resistance became impossible.
As Jang I-bo's face grew grim, Cheon Myeong-hak cautiously asked:
"Is something troubling you?"
"…No, nothing. Tell me, have you decided all the participants?"
"I sent word to Master Seol An-geum, but frankly, it's unlikely. The rest will be Instructor Cho and our warriors."
Hearing this, a thought crossed Jang I-bo's mind.
"Ah, by the way… does the Young Merchant Lord know of this?"
"No. Only Instructor Cho and yourself know."
"I see. Then perhaps—"
"I do not intend to tell Woo-ha."
Cheon Myeong-hak cut him off firmly. Jang I-bo raised a brow, and he gave a bitter smile.
"Forgive me. I… cannot show such weakness before him. At the very least, I want to leave him a Yongmyeong Trading House that he can be proud of."
"…I understand."
Jang I-bo thought of his own father. Even as their estate was plundered, even as retainers abandoned them, he had only said, 'It's all right.' Only when nothing remained did he whisper, '…I'm sorry.'
Jang I-bo closed his eyes briefly, then turned to the window.
"What are you looking at?"
"Ah… nothing."
He knew the truth: Yongmyeong could not stand against Jonguimun by its own strength. But…
'Depending on who lends their hand, everything could change.'
No one knew. Not Jonguimun, not Chomu-do, not even Cheon Myeong-hak himself…
'That Yongmyeong harbors a monster.'
A faint, knowing smile spread across Jang I-bo's lips.
Step, step.
Through a small but beautifully kept garden, he walked until he reached a large study. This was none other than the residence of Cheon Woo-ha.
He stopped at the door, took a breath, and called out.
"Phew… Are you inside, Young Master?"
"…"
"Ahem… Young Master, are you there?"
Twice he called, but no reply came.
'It's not the time for his tutor, is it?'
Woo-ha's tutor, Go Seok-jeong, only visited every three days after noon. He had just come two days prior.
'And it's not even noon yet.'
…Could he still be sleeping? Jang I-bo leaned closer, ear at the door.
"What are you doing there?"
A sharp, irritated voice rang from behind. Jang I-bo turned, startled.
And there he saw—
Tall and broad-shouldered, long black hair falling past his shoulders, clad in white martial robes. In his hand, an antique book. A strikingly handsome youth smiled coldly at him.
"Cat got your tongue? Go inside first."
"…"
"Since you were sneaking around someone else's quarters, I'll at least hear your excuse."
It was Cheon Woo-ha. His sardonic smile made Jang I-bo suddenly question whether he should have come here at all.
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