44. Misunderstanding (1)
His father's death was a foregone conclusion. To survive himself, he had to find the hidden ledger. Even if it existed, clashing with the Bokho Merchant Group would make it impossible to maintain the merchant house. Reaching out to the Cheongsung Sect or Cheongpung Merchant Group was out of the question now. With ties to Bokho exposed, even his status as a lay disciple was gone.
At this rate, his younger brothers would take everything. So Tak So-pyeong accepted Bokho's proposal.
Creak.
He entered his father's room. Whoosh! Candles flared to life all at once, illuminating the chamber. Tak So-pyeong, who had snuck in only to grab the ledger, limped backward in shock.
His disbelieving eyes denied the reality before him.
"...Father!"
"Does that word even come from your mouth?!"
"...I only came because I was worried if you'd returned!"
"You damned wretch! Stabbing your own father in the back!"
Tak So-pyeong let out a deep sigh and slumped his shoulders at his father's furious roar. Excuses wouldn't work anyway. Expecting belief now was absurd.
But he felt wronged. He'd sacrificed for the merchant house, yet his father offered no trust—instead stripping him of even the deputy leader position. He'd promised to restore it once things quieted, but he didn't trust a son out of favor.
"This is all your fault, Father!"
"You mad bastard! You really want to die?!"
"You were going to hand it to that So-jun punk! And you expect me to just wait patiently?"
"It wouldn't have come to this if you hadn't overstepped!"
"You praised me when it suited you! Now you're scared to touch him, so you're coming after me?"
"You tried to kill your father, and you still claim innocence?"
"We've lost Bokho! I have to survive somehow!"
Tak So-pyeong no longer hid his resentment. He even threatened that the Cheongsung Sect wouldn't stand idly by if his father killed him. A mere lay disciple wouldn't matter to them, but he didn't care. With everything out in the open, he unleashed years of pent-up rage.
"And that means selling out your father?!"
"Didn't you sell me out to save the house? Why can't I?!"
"Shut your mouth if you want an easy death!"
"Kill me then! It won't solve anything— it'll just make things worse!"
The unfilial son who'd tried to murder his father now resorted to threats without hesitation. Tak Jung-il's rage boiled over, but he hesitated. Killing his son to silence him would amount to admitting he'd murdered Naeng Sang-cheon.
"You worthless scum!"
"Find a solution instead of cursing! If I had one, I wouldn't have chosen this. What, you think you know better?!"
It was the height of familial depravity. Tak So-pyeong had only held back out of fear before; cornered, he charged ahead blindly. They were never close, but now only enmity remained.
'Damn it, what now?'
Separate from his fury, Tak Jung-il felt suffocated. Killing the wretch wouldn't solve it, as he'd said. For now, they had to play ignorant. Bokho wasn't clean either—they wouldn't stir trouble. But without funds or trade routes, ruin was inevitable.
'Damn it all!'
Surrounded on all sides. He couldn't just give up; he needed the best path forward. Now it was live or die. A truly shitty reality.
'Where the hell did it all go wrong?'
Nothing went right from start to finish. It felt like heaven itself was out to kill him.
They'd cut him slack for past deeds and one mistake. But now, radio silence. No news was good news? Not in this harsh reality. Merchants equated time to money.
"What?!"
"They're all dead."
He'd sent subordinates when contact failed; the report was outrageous. Failure was one thing, but the manager and all his men dead? Unbelievable.
Naeng Sang-cheon was more martial artist than merchant. His skills were top-tier, unadvertised, and his men elite. Stronger than a mid-tier sect's vanguard.
Above all, Naeng never acted without certainty.
"Tak Jung-il's doing?"
"Too quiet for that."
Du Won-gwang of Bokho scowled at his intelligence chief's report. Things weren't going to plan—they were spiraling out of control. Tak Jung-il was the prime suspect. They'd scheduled a meet, and Naeng was to handle it. Who else?
But did Tak have the capability? He lacked both guts and power. The contradiction muddled everything. Naeng wasn't reckless enough to ignore fallout.
"Naeng was to recruit Tak So-pyeong for the ledger, then install him as head and use Hwajeong as a branch."
"But Tak Jung-il still holds it."
"Deal exposed, or Tak So-pyeong betrayed him."
"A dog sires dogs. No way he has the balls."
Unsettling assumptions, lacking evidence. Hwajeong's muted response was baffling too. A son betraying his father, yet silence?
"Trying to pretend it never happened?"
"If Seongdo or Cheongpung were involved, no. Leaking rumors would benefit them more."
Those two would gain more exposing Bokho's murder plot.
"If he's been hiding his hand from the start, he's been playing me all along!"
If feigning ignorance for support, then threatening to hand the ledger to Cheongpung and Seongdo upon cutoff? Infuriating.
"That bastard thinks the ledger lets him act like a dog!"
If Seongdo and Cheongpung moved in earnest, hiding ties to Hwajeong would fail. They'd done shady deals too—moral high ground, but not life-or-death.
Grind! Du Won-gwang bared killing intent. Looking back, Tak had toyed with him. Cutting support wasn't enough. If Hwajeong recovered unscathed, he'd look the fool.
Usually cool-headed, Du turned ruthless when provoked. Running a merchant group demanded more than reason sometimes. Challengers needed examples.
"Kill Tak Jung-il."
"But acting now draws suspicion."
"It'll blow over with time! You mocking me?!"
"...No, my lord!"
Not ideal, but people weren't always rational. Pride overrode reason at times. With misunderstandings piling up, suspicion snowballed. Like redheads clawing each other bloody over a calm white whale.
Gu Cheon-woo dipped fried rice grains in honey and ate. A peaceful afternoon.
Recalling last round's relentless Mireok Paedo grind, this serenity felt alien.
Bokho and Hwajeong's deepening feud was trivial continent-wide. But meddling in unoccurred events risked Mu-myeong's interference.
[At least don't poke what hasn't happened! This is too much!]
Mu-myeong's denial of past sins. Cut poisonous mushrooms from the root, as the saying went.
'Should've killed that bastard and bitch too.'
Amid drowsy calm, Cheon-woo tempered his mood. Slack off, and Mireok Paedo's instincts surged. Rewiring 100 rounds—40,000 years—in a day was tough.
'Curious, though.'
The manager's martial prowess was high, origin wild and fierce. Such arts tied to illicit groups. Yet Bokho backed by Ami Sect, a Nine Great Sect pillar.
Ami following demonic or unorthodox? Orthodoxy, righteousness, evil—people varied.
'Nuns aren't all saints.'
Stubborn, inflexible lots. Clashes happened; cross lines, crushed under Paedo. No gentle persuasion in Mireok Paedo.
'Just don't cross the line.'
Regrettably, Cheon-woo never saw evil truly toeing it. They always revealed cores, ground under Mireok Paedo's blade. No complacency even if time bought.
Crunch! He savored the fried grains. Hollowed insides mirrored Mireok Paedo's void.
'Inner force solidity is impressive.'
Just reflection, yet purity and density doubled. Past rounds crammed quantity, refined later. Paewang Gong mastery allowed it.
'Not perfect.'
Endless martial path; 40,000 years honed it to pinnacle. Yet hindsight revealed flaws. Forward rush's toll.
Time to review.
'Good.'
Not bad. Pinnacle might stagnate; imperfection invited pursuit. Lack? Fill it. One for eradication! Two for dominance!
A booming chant echoed. Cheon-woo's "disciples" bounded into the new training ground, cheering leaps eternal thrice. Eager to finish first, steps swift.
Huff! Huff!
Ga-bok, Cheon-gi, Cheon-ye panted upon arrival. Same pace, yet Ga-bok winded—Paewang Qi scaled pressure: ten for him, five for Cheon-gi, two for Cheon-ye.
Rwaaagh!
No complaints about Sacheon Three Heroes' special drills. They pitied them too much—constant screams, writhing like stomped worms. Torture over training? Yet they endured, claiming bearable post-session. Amazing. Or masochists—best avoided.