Chapter 476: This Is Your Retirement Fund, Uncle.
Chapter 476: This Is Your Retirement Fund, Uncle.
Yeom-je slumped beside the grand tutor’s chair and squeezed his eyes shut.
He prayed that when he opened them, he would be back in his own bedchamber—that all of this was merely a nightmare born of a fever dream.
But when his eyes fluttered open, the nightmare was standing right in front of him.
Geom Mu-geuk’s gaze was unnervingly calm. Yet, that very composure and politeness made him all the more terrifying. With those clear, indifferent eyes, he had slaughtered every single one of Yeom-je's subordinates. He had cut them down while maintaining perfect etiquette.
Now, it was Yeom-je's turn to fight. But he couldn't find the will to even lift a finger.
So, this day has finally come.
Yeom-je raised his voice in a resentful wail.
"What grudge do you hold against me? Is it because I skimmed a little money? Is that why you’ve gone this far?"
As if he had killed them just for a bit of embezzlement.
The atrocities these men had committed were so vast that Mu-geuk had intended to purge them from the moment he set foot here. If he allowed them to live and let destiny take its original course, too many warriors of the Murim Alliance would die in the process of eventually rooting them out.
Kill those who must die; save those who must live. The conviction driving his regression was being applied here at the Hundred Immortals Guild just as it was everywhere else.
"You can't take money with you when you die. Why were you so consumed by greed?"
Yeom-je gnashed his teeth as he looked down at the pooling blood. To him, those were the words of a loser—the hollow talk of those who lacked the talent to amass wealth. What value in this world could possibly surpass gold?
In the end, he spat out a string of curses.
"You damn brat! It’s my money! All of it is mine! Whether I scatter it in the streets or fill my coffin with it, what business is it of yours!"
Geom Mu-geuk saw the madness in the man's eyes. This was a man who had lived his entire life this way; a few words would never bring him to repentance.
Suddenly, he recalled something the Silver River Merchant Group Leader had once said.
— I’ve seen too many people get so caught up in the thrill of making money that they end up being devoured by it.
Yeom-je was the ultimate manifestation of that. And he had no right to be this self-righteous.
"It’s not your money, is it?"
Stung by the truth, Yeom-je gritted his teeth. His only rebuttal was a snarl.
"Who do you think you are?"
The answer came instantly.
"How many times must I tell you? I’m the man who came to collect a debt."
The reason Yeom-je kept asking was likely because the very concept of "repaying a debt" did not exist in his worldview.
"Open your private safe."
If not for this purpose, this man wouldn't even be worth a single word of conversation.
"I told you, there’s no such thing."
Even with ninety-nine of his men dead, he refused to open his private safe. He was a man who valued gold more than his own life.
Do you have any idea how I earned that money?
He had done everything imaginable to amass it. Beating, kidnapping, trafficking, and murdering. He had committed every sin under the sun to eat well and live large in this life, even if it meant rotting in hell in the next. He was prepared to die before he surrendered a single cent.
"I know your safe is in this main hall."
Yeom-je tried his best to appear calm, but he was transparent. To Geom Mu-geuk, the man's frantic heartbeat was as loud as thunder.
"Didn't you say it yourself when you opened that other safe? That the Hundred Immortals Guild's treasury is located here because this is where you spend most of your time. Naturally, your private safe would be here as well."
Geom Mu-geuk pressed him, giving him no room to breathe.
"I'll find the money myself."
Mu-geuk drew his sword. Just as he was about to strike without hesitation—
"I'll open it! Just spare me!"
Mu-geuk’s blade stopped in mid-air.
Even in that moment, Mu-geuk didn't miss a thing. Yeom-je spoke as if he had surrendered, but a relentless, venomous glint flickered in his eyes.
"You're right. The safe is here."
Yeom-je stood up and walked toward the back. He entered the empty safe he had opened earlier and began feeling along the ceiling. It looked like a plain, featureless wall, but it concealed a hidden mechanism.
Whirrrr.
A section of the inner wall slid open, revealing an abacus.
The first safe had been a decoy to hide the real one. A double safe. The money and gold bars in the first room were merely the mechanical triggers and the "guards" protecting the true treasury. Anyone would be so dazzled by the wealth in the first room that they would never suspect another vault lay hidden behind it.
Yeom-je flicked the abacus beads. It was a sophisticated mechanism that required a precise sequence of numbers to unlock.
"I mustn't get a single digit wrong."
For some reason, he allowed Mu-geuk to see the numbers he was inputting.
Three, two, four.
Then, before sliding the final bead, Yeom-je spoke abruptly with his back turned.
"I know you won't spare me even if I open this."
Yeom-je turned back to Mu-geuk, a meaningful, mocking smile on his face. He slid the final abacus bead up.
The number was four.
At that exact moment—
Ssssssssss!
Smoke began pouring from the ceiling where the two men stood. By intentionally entering the wrong number, he had triggered the trap designed for intruders: poison mist.
Amidst the swirling vapor, Yeom-je laughed.
"The last digit wasn't four. It was three."
His eyes were filled with pure malice.
"This is the most agonizing poison in the world. You'll feel your internal organs melting away. Anyone who dares covet my money deserves to die in hellish pain!"
He burst into laughter, which quickly turned into a scream of agony. A horrific pain surged through him, but he didn't care. He was going to die anyway; he might as well take the brat with him.
Let's die together, you bastard!
Writhing in pain, he stared at Geom Mu-geuk. He wanted the last thing he saw in this world to be Mu-geuk screaming in torment.
But the sight he expected never came.
What...?
Geom Mu-geuk was still standing there, silently watching him.
Why?
They had both been caught in the poison mist. Yet Mu-geuk looked at him with a gaze that seemed part mockery, part pity. Yeom-je was confused. Even through the excruciating pain of his body dissolving, he was desperate to know. Why wasn't he dying?
Just before his breath failed him, Mu-geuk’s voice reached his ears.
"The last digit was three?"
Hearing those words, Yeom-je let out a final, internal scream.
No!
He had shown the numbers because he thought they would die together. But if this was the case...?
It’s my money! That’s my money!
He died in more agony over the fact that his wealth was being taken than from the pain of his organs melting. Until his very last breath, he died a slave to his gold.
Leaving the corpse behind, Geom Mu-geuk entered the correct numbers into the abacus. The hidden safe slid open. Inside, there was nothing but stacks of bank notes. They were all high-denomination notes issued by the Three Great Banks of the Central Plains—prepared so that he could pack them up and flee at a moment's notice.
Mu-geuk gathered them all and walked out. He didn't spare Yeom-je's body a second glance. As always, he found no meaning in the deaths of the wicked.
Splash, splash.
He let them flow away like the bloody water beneath his feet.
*
Geum A-rin paced the courtyard anxiously. Waiting in her room had become so suffocating that she couldn't stay still.
"Should I go there now?"
At her words, Im Hyeok, who was standing a short distance away, answered firmly.
"You cannot."
As the one tasked with her protection, it was an order he could never accept.
"He might die."
"Even so, you cannot go." Im Hyeok added after a brief pause, "Young Master Geom will be fine."
Yes, she thought so too. If only it weren't for one thing.
"His opponent is the Hundred Immortals Guild."
The answer that rose in Im Hyeok’s mind was: Yes, even if it's the Hundred Immortals Guild. However, he kept it to himself to protect A-rin’s feelings. There was no point in raising her hopes only to have them crushed.
Just then, the metallic scent of blood drifted on the wind. Im Hyeok leaped forward, shielding Geum A-rin. The scent grew thicker and thicker.
The door opened, and a figure stepped into the inner court.
"You?"
Geum A-rin was speechless for a moment. It was Geom Mu-geuk. His clothes and body were drenched in blood.
"Are you hurt?"
At her startled question, Mu-geuk stumbled forward, clutching his chest, and slumped onto a rock.
"I have... one last request. If I die, please tell my father. Tell him his son went to a den of death to collect a debt for a lady and..."
"That's not funny, so stop it."
"Was it that obvious?"
Of course it was. His acting was so exaggerated it was easy to see through. But even if he had put on a truly realistic performance, she felt she wouldn't have been fooled. This man didn't seem like the type to leave any last words. He seemed like the type who would lean against a small rock, gaze out at a windswept plain with those clear eyes, and die in silence.
She had never thought about it before, but seeing him fake his death brought that realization home. She finally let out a sigh of relief.
"You returned safely."
"Were you worried?"
A-rin didn't answer, but he could feel how much she had agonized while waiting.
"Here, take this." Mu-geuk pulled a thick stack of envelopes from the leather pouch at his waist.
"What is this?"
"The money that needs to be returned from the Hundred Immortals Guild. Go and give it back."
The envelopes were labeled with the names of various merchant groups and sects. Among them was an envelope with the Golden Dragon Clan’s name on it. Inside was a bank note for 1.5 million taels.
Geum A-rin’s eyes widened. "You... you actually got all the money back?"
"This is the amount after taking my half, as promised."
She had only hoped he would return alive. Just come back safe, you don't even have to bring the money, she had prayed fervently. And yet, he had brought it all.
"What happened to the Hundred Immortals Guild?"
Her trembling question was met with a shocking answer.
"The Hundred Immortals Guild no longer exists in this world."
Stunned, A-rin couldn't say a word. Im Hyeok, standing behind her, also stared with wide, shocked eyes. Logically, that had to be the case for him to bring the money back. But hearing it directly made her heart race.
He destroyed the Hundred Immortals Guild all by himself? Is that even possible?
Then, Mu-geuk held out one more envelope.
"This is money I’m giving you from my own share."
Looking at the amount, it was an unexpectedly large sum.
"I don't need this."
"I'm not giving it to you for your personal use."
"Then why?"
"There must be merchant groups or residents living in hardship because of the guild's tyranny. Use this money to help them."
A-rin was taken aback. She stared at Mu-geuk for a moment before asking cautiously, "Why are you asking me to do it? You could do it yourself."
If he did, he could claim all the credit and gratitude for himself.
"Didn't you ask me to make you the successor? I'm keeping that promise."
"What do you mean?"
"By returning the money to the merchant groups, your reputation will soar. If you use this to help those in need on top of that, you'll be one step closer to the position of successor."
A-rin was momentarily speechless. "Even I, the person involved, hadn't thought that far ahead."
Mu-geuk gave an unexpected reply. "That's why I think you're fit to be the successor."
"Pardon?"
"Because your ambition is still pure."
A-rin looked at him for a moment before confessing her honest feelings. "That ambition will soon be tainted."
"As long as our connection continues, it won't be tainted—at least not easily."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I'm going to introduce you to some friends. I know some people who are quite pure despite the positions they hold. When you hang out with them, you'll think, 'If even they can stay pure, why can't I?'"
Despite their positions? Who on earth was he talking about? Geom Mu-geuk had seemed extraordinary from the start, but the more she knew him, the more mysterious he became.
"I was hired for a high price; I should at least do this much for you."
Despite having done something he could have bragged about all day, Mu-geuk left shortly after. Geum A-rin looked down at the envelopes he had left behind and whispered to herself.
"I thought I was the one who did that."
But now, a different thought crossed her mind. Perhaps she had hired him for far too low a price.
*
I placed two envelopes on the table.
"I'll split the earnings from this job equally as well."
My father looked at me after checking the amount in the envelopes. He was surprised by the sum, which was larger than expected.
"They had amassed quite a fortune. There was originally more, but I used some of it to help those who had suffered under them."
Hwi spoke up cautiously. "The money I received before is already more than enough."
I had expected Hwi to react this way.
"Keep it. You'll definitely have a use for it later."
"No, I don't need it. Please give it to the Cult Leader."
I continued to persuade the hesitant man. "You need to prepare for the time when you no longer have the strength to hold a sword. You can go on trips. You've spent your whole life as a guard; when that time comes, you should have your own guards. Really expensive ones."
I could tell from Hwi’s expression that this was something he had never once considered in his life. My father looked at me with an expression that said I was being cheeky, then turned to Hwi.
"Take it."
"Yes, Cult Leader."
Hwi finally tucked the envelope away. "Then I shall accept it with gratitude. I will use this money for my juniors."
He meant he would use it for the junior guards of the Heavenly Demon Hall.
"No! That's your retirement fund, Uncle!"
Hwi gave a faint smile and asked me, "Young Cult Leader, you aren't planning on using your share for yourself either, are you?"
Hwi knew. He knew that I would invest everything I earned this time into Eun-wol and the Ghost Shadow Squad.
"Well, I'm still young, aren't I? Retirement planning is..."
"Is something you start when you're young."
It felt good to hear Hwi say something like that. In your past life, you lived as rigidly as cold iron. In this life, please live softly and enjoy yourselves.
Suddenly, my father asked me a question.
"Are you alright?"
The words struck deep into my heart. He had asked me the same thing before. Even if I stained my hands with so much blood, was my heart still okay? It seemed that even though I had washed up and changed my clothes, I couldn't entirely erase the scent of blood clinging to me.
I paused to examine my own heart and how I was feeling.
"I think I'm alright."
My father probably didn't know how much strength that single question gave me. And in this moment, I realized that the answer "I'm okay" or "I'm not okay" wasn't what mattered most.
"If it ever gets hard, I will be sure to tell you, Father."
Conveying the fact that a son was leaning on his father—that was far more important.
"I'm pushing forward with this matter because I trust in you, Father."
"And what if they find out we've come?"
I didn't think that mattered much either way.
"Well, if things get tangled, I'm sure you'll untangle them for me. Didn't I tell you on the way here? Those people who hide in the shadows and plot need to be shown, at least once. They need to be reminded that you are here in this Murim."
It wasn't mere flattery; I meant it. And so, on this first journey into the Jianghu with my father, this was the message I wanted to send them:
"If they're confident enough, tell them to come out and face us."