Grumbling to himself, Lee Ja-Eon flinched like someone caught stealing when he passed by the inner courtyard.
"Ack, you startled me."
'Why is my elder brother there?'
Lee Ja-Eon looked confused as he made eye contact with Dan Woosung.
Dan Woosung gestured to him.
"Come here. If you're going to review the match, do it properly. Mimic it with your sword. That last move from Ouyang Hou, you copied it well."
Lee Ja-Eon gazed off toward the distant sky.
'Wow, he was watching all that too?'
With a reluctant air, Lee Ja-Eon raised his sword and poked half-heartedly at his shoulder. Dan Woosung commented,
"Yeah, just like that—weak and sloppy. It was obvious right away that it was a feint."
Lee Ja-Eon's expression shifted.
At his eldest brother's words, he pulled back the sword and, just as Ouyang Hou had done, extended his left palm.
Dan Woosung countered with his fist and said,
"From the start, I was already gauging the strength of his palm technique, so I waited for a follow-up strike. I anticipated a hidden technique on the third move, so I was prepared to intercept it in advance."
Lee Ja-Eon silently nodded, then aimed his sword at his older brother's chest.
Dan Woosung stepped in and grabbed Lee Ja-Eon's wrist.
"If his reflexes were sharp, he would've tried to force a mutual loss through a palm energy clash here. After all, we each had a free hand."
"That's correct."
"But Ouyang Hou, flustered, tried to draw on his internal energy. He instinctively tried to protect his sword arm—because he feared his life as a swordsman might end. In that fleeting moment, I anticipated a possible feint or counter, so I struck with my left leg and kept my left hand ready to block. But it was already over. The next move was my fist, and after that, it didn't matter how I finished it."
The fact that such judgment was made in an instant was, itself, proof of strength.
Without realizing it, Lee Ja-Eon widened his eyes and nodded.
"Mm, I see."
Compared to how he had reviewed it himself, the psychological warfare of the actual exchange had much more depth. Then suddenly, he wondered, Why is he kindly explaining all this to me? As he stared at Dan Woosung, his older brother smacked him on the head.
Thwack! came the sound, and Lee Ja-Eon rubbed his head.
"Why'd you hit me again?"
"Oh, because you're a brat."
Speechless, Lee Ja-Eon scratched his head and lowered his gaze.
"Ah, my words slipped. I'll be more careful."
When Dan Woosung raised his hand again as if to strike, Lee Ja-Eon instinctively tilted his head to the side and quickly said,
"Take care, elder brother. You were really cool today."
As Dan Woosung walked off as if nothing had happened, Lee Ja-Eon glared after him. Strangely, it seemed like his older brother didn't actually hate him that much, which felt even more confusing. Come to think of it, he was starting to find Dan Woosung genuinely terrifying now, and his feelings grew more tangled.
.
.
.
The day after the incident with Ouyang Hou.
Lee Seong-min, the head of the Eunha Merchant Group, had risen from his sickbed for the first time in a while, quietly listening to his second son.
He had already suspected that his eldest son had returned after mastering martial arts and fought Ouyang Hou in a life-and-death battle—but even so, it was undeniably shocking news.
Lee Seong-min asked,
"So you want to buy the rarest elixirs in Jianghu?"
Lee Hwa-Eon nodded.
"Yes. One thing led to another, and now the fate of the Merchant Group feels tied to the elder brother. First, we have to avoid the massive wave that is the Ouyang Family."
The seasoned merchant spoke as if challenging a bet.
"Hmm… Can a single elixir really change our fate? Making money and protecting it both require bold investments at times. I won't consider this spending—it's an investment. If you think of the money we've already been losing to the Ouyang Family, the gift we were preparing for the Smiling Immortal Sect, and the monthly salary for their retainers, it's not even excessive."
"Exactly."
"Let's consider this: our Eunha Merchant Group is seriously committing to nurturing one true martial artist. And fortunately, that martial artist happens to be my son—your older brother. There's no reason to hesitate."
Lee Hwa-Eon looked at his father with surprise. He had only cautiously brought it up, thinking the elixir he wanted was expensive. But his father seemed to be on a completely different page.
"Send letters to all branch managers and my old friends—those revered master merchants. Tell them we're looking to buy high-quality elixirs in bulk. Add some drama to it. Say we're left with no choice in the face of the crisis threatening the Merchant Group. If we fall, they'll take losses too—so they'll consider it seriously. Emphasize that we're asking for the sake of mutual survival."
"Understood."
Before he knew it, Lee Seong-min sounded completely recovered from his illness, his voice brimming with strength.
"You'll need to gather detailed intel on elixirs being traded among the clans and noble houses. Work closely with your elder brother, and don't hold back on spending money. Hiring Ouyang Hou as Captain of the Guard Division was my mistake. I'll entrust this matter entirely to you two."
Lee Hwa-Eon bowed his head.
"No, Father. It wasn't a mistake. It's just that the outcome was bad."
"My son, if the outcome is bad, everything is bad. That holds true for both merchants and martial artists. It was my mistake."
"Yes."
Then suddenly, Lee Seong-min tilted his head and asked,
"This morning, your younger brother came to apologize for suddenly picking a fight with you. I'm honestly bewildered by how all my sons are changing. I wondered if it's now the third one's turn."
Lee Hwa-Eon replied, trying to suppress a laugh,
"Is that so? He did suddenly come to apologize to me too."
Lee Seong-min nodded.
"Well… he probably got smacked around by the eldest. Their relationship hasn't been great. Looks like he took a few slaps. His cheek's still a bit swollen."
Lee Hwa-Eon nodded.
"Compared to what happened in the past, it's a miracle it ended there."
Lee Seong-min stroked his chin and asked,
"By the way, what do we have at our Jinhua Mountain safe house? The third one asked if he could rest there briefly—even though he's not sick. I turned him down."
"Good call, Father. Sending someone to the safe house costs money too. You think he'll go alone? He'd drag a bunch of others with him. For now, we should concentrate all non-business expenditures solely on elder brother."
Lee Seong-min nodded. For some reason, he found it curious that his second son seemed to be in a better mood than usual. Come to think of it, all three sons seemed to have changed somehow.
"Alright. I'll leave it to you."
Thus, Lee Ja-Eon's futile attempt was easily dismissed. Then Lee Seong-min asked the thing he was most curious about.
"My eldest isn't going out drinking, and it's making me anxious. He really has changed, hasn't he?"
"After drinking with Sima Geuk, Zhu Jaryang, and Gu Ung once, he's quit drinking altogether. Seems like he only focuses on training now. Although… some of the servants are getting startled from time to time when he spars with those burly men over at the villa."
"How exactly is he training?"
"When the elder brother finishes his solo training, he beats the two of them senseless. I got worried and asked, and he said it's because the martial art is unique, and this is the proper training method. Strangely enough, those two looked surprisingly stoic about it."
That's how it appeared to Lee Hwa-Eon. Lee Seong-min nodded.
"The ways of the Jianghu are truly unpredictable. That getting beaten becomes training…"
As Lee Seong-min walked back to the bed, Lee Hwa-Eon helped support him.
A muttered monologue escaped from Lee Seong-min's lips.
"It's fine. It's actually for the best. I've spent my whole life earning money, but now, somehow, it feels like I won't be bored anymore."
Lee Hwa-Eon stayed silent, unsure what his father meant. Then, lying down in bed, Lee Seong-min stared at the ceiling and spoke.
"I'll think about how to spend money."
The old merchant wore a stubborn expression again.
He was dissatisfied with the Jianghu. Lee Seong-min had always tried to live harmoniously with others when possible. But now, his thinking has changed. Since his son had stepped into the Jianghu, he was determined to support him in dominating it, and that brought an odd sense of clarity.
The eldest son would fight with martial power, and the father would fight with money. With his children and family now entangled in the affairs of the Jianghu, how could he wish for peace? Lee Seong-min was determined to actively recover from the fire illness that had ravaged his body.
.
.
.
The news of Ouyang Hou's death reached the Smiling Immortal Sect before it reached the Ouyang Family.
"He's dead?"
"Yes."
"That's… hard to comprehend."
Yeom Ji-Sang, the Leader of the Smiling Immortal Sect, stroked his long beard. With the corners of his lips always curled upward, he constantly appeared to be smiling.
Yeom Ji-Sang asked,
"Is the First Young Master really that strong? Was it a one-hit kill?"
His tone didn't suit someone of his status as sect leader, but the man replying seemed used to it.
"No, it wasn't like that. It wasn't a long fight, though. Even accounting for the fact that they fought twice, it wouldn't have gone over thirty exchanges."
"Then we'd have to say he's fairly strong."
The man giving the report knew this in such detail because he had been there. He was one of the Ouyang Family's retainers, who used to deliver Ouyang Hou's messages and letters to the Smiling Immortal Sect.
Yeom Ji-Sang asked,
"What weapon?"
"He uses fists."
Yeom Ji-Sang clicked his tongue.
"Tch, tch, how disgraceful, a swordsman losing to a young fist-fighter. The Ouyang Family must be furious."
The man asked, sounding slightly displeased,
"Weren't the two of you friends?"
Yeom Ji-Sang looked at him and replied,
"Why are you asking such a stupid question?"
"…Pardon?"
"Are you deaf?"
As the man glanced around, he could feel killing intent from every direction. He was well aware of the Smiling Immortal Sect's brutal methods. The man quickly said to Yeom Ji-Sang,
"Ah, I misspoke."
"Right?"
"Yes."
"In the Jianghu, one must be careful with their words. Now off you go."
"Um…"
"Do you still have something to say?"
"…Will there be revenge…?"
Yeom Ji-Sang looked dumbfounded.
"How could I seek revenge for a proper duel? We're not the Dark Path. That's just bad manners. Go back to the Ouyang Family and handle the funeral for my friend properly. I can't leave my post, so I'll consider sending disciples depending on the situation."
Though they weren't of the Dark Path, the Smiling Immortal Sect was viewed as borderline by most in the Jianghu.
"Understood, then…"
The foolish retainer bowed and left. As soon as he did, Yeom Ji-Sang's disciples gathered around him. Rubbing his hands together, he muttered,
"So now the Eunha Merchant Group refuses to pay us dues, and Ouyang Hou got himself killed—how should I take this?"
His tone was light as always, but the disciples replied with polite seriousness.
"It means they don't regard the Smiling Immortal Sect as a threat."
"Even if it was a fair duel, the First Young Master won't survive for long. The Ouyang Family may walk the White Path, but there's no way they'll let the heir of a merchant group live after killing one of their own."
Yeom Ji-Sang said,
"You never know. Swallowing the Merchant Group is more profitable than killing the son. Anyway, what about us? We danced to Ouyang Hou's tune and got nothing in return. I'm not interested in revenge. I'm interested in the Eunha Merchant Group's money. There are rumors that Lee Seong-min, that old fox, has more wealth than we know. That's why Ouyang Hou targeted him in the first place."
The disciples fell silent. After all, the final decision always came from the master. And they could never predict what his decision would be.
After pondering, Yeom Ji-Sang asked,
"How much do you think Lee Seong-min would pay for his son's life? I'm no longer interested in killing. After living this long, I've realized money really is everything. Before the Ouyang Family devours the Eunha Merchant Group, our best bet is to get our hands on the son and squeeze some cash out of him."
The head disciple replied cautiously,
"He seems quite strong…"
Yeom Ji-Sang clicked his tongue.
"You fool. If the Smiling Immortal Sect makes a move, we could take down someone like Ouyang Hou in three or four moves, not thirty. We have plenty of disciples, and if I go myself, do you really think we need to worry about some young brat's skills?"
As Yeom Ji-Sang continued speaking, the head disciple suddenly knelt.
"Master, I spoke out of turn."
Yeom Ji-Sang replied casually again,
"Be careful, my disciple."
In any case, this meant the Smiling Immortal Sect would mobilize. Yeom Ji-Sang tapped his chair as if signaling everyone to refocus and asked,
"So how much do you estimate?"
"They'll surely pay a hundred thousand nyang, at least."
"It's the Eunha Merchant Group. They'll probably give two hundred thousand nyang."
At the mention of such a vast sum, Yeom Ji-Sang already wore a pleased smile. Stroking his beard, he said,
"Get ready. Pack the gear thoroughly. Even a tiger runs full force to catch a rabbit, doesn't it?"
As the disciples left, Yeom Ji-Sang, suddenly bored, picked his nose and muttered,
"The sun's already setting. Maybe I'll head to the brothel…"