The Golden Goose and the Trap
Once Heo Il-bi had departed, Ouyang Qiangang, left alone at last, posed a question to Akasha.
"I couldn't ask in front of my uncle earlier, but back in the twenty-first century — what were the annual revenues of the Twin Dragon Pill manufacturer? It was far more than a few thousand taels, wasn't it?"
"Converting the medicine's peak-era annual revenue into this era's silver value — where one tael of silver equals one seok of rice — my estimate ranges from a minimum of five million to a maximum of thirteen million taels per year, depending on market conditions."
"…I'm sorry, what?"
For a moment, Ouyang Qiangang doubted his own ears.
He had known the revenue was substantial, but never imagined it was on this scale. A few thousand taels was hardly a small sum to begin with — yet millions? The units weren't merely different; they existed in different dimensions.
"Akasha, I need a point of comparison. What did your analysis put the Great Huan Empire's total annual budget at?"
"Cross-referencing the Records of Huan Imperial Finance with numerous other texts, the current Huan Empire's total annual budget is estimated at roughly fifty million taels of silver."
Ouyang Qiangang swallowed dryly without meaning to.
"Five to thirteen million taels a year in expected revenue for the Twin Dragon Pill? That's a twelfth to a tenth of the empire's entire annual budget?"
"Correct."
A wave of dizzying vertigo washed over him, and he pressed a hand to his forehead.
He had expected the projected revenue Heo Il-bi spoke of to fall short of the truth. But not by this much. The income Akasha described was no mere fortune for rebuilding a fallen house — the Twin Dragon Pill could shake the economy of an entire nation and drive every powerbroker under heaven mad with greed. It was, quite literally, a business on the level of a strategic weapon.
The trouble was that this was not an unqualified blessing. His plan — to rebuild his family while shutting out the interference of Gold Pagoda Mountain Manor — had grown far vaster than he'd intended, and at the same time far more dangerous than he'd imagined. The moment a shrewd old merchant like Dong Hyeon-do caught wind of this staggering value, he would understand at a glance that Ouyang Qiangang was a goose that laid golden eggs. The man was hardly fool enough to slit the goose's belly, but the odds that he would move to seize the secret of the golden eggs itself were more than sufficient.
For the powerless to carry a treasure is to invite calamity.
A frown carved itself between Ouyang Qiangang's straight brows, deep as the strokes of the character for "river." The board had swelled beyond anything he'd envisioned. Could he truly carry it?
He had been a scientist, after all. Not some hero out of a film, but a man who had lived his whole life in the chill of laboratories, buried in data. Assassination, conspiracy, the shadow wars of great powers — those were tales from a world so distant he'd never dreamed of them. And now here he was, trying to make himself the very center of that swirling maelstrom.
He scratched the back of his head.
"The Twin Dragon Pill… maybe I should just pretend the whole thing never happened."
For a moment, he was tempted to forget it all and simply devote himself, quietly, to curing his Nine Yin Severed Meridians. But then a handful of faces flickered through his mind. Ouyang Baek's weary face, holding back the clan's fall with his own body for decades. The deep, trusting eyes of Dong Yeon-hwa, who had confided everything to him. His young half-brother Ouyang Cheon-gi, following him with such earnest devotion and worry, and little Ouyang Cheong-cheong, smiling her innocent smile and nestling into his arms, knowing nothing at all. Heo Il-bi, who had believed in his absurd scheme and willingly pushed him forward — and Heo Cho-ryeong, who grieved for him and looked after him with such genuine care.
Could he really turn his back on all of that now? Could he simply stand by and watch them slowly fade away beneath the shadow of Gold Pagoda Mountain Manor?
Above all, this dangerous plan was bound directly to his own survival. It was the one rope that could pull him free of the wretched Nine Yin Severed Meridians — the only way to buy himself the time to live as an ordinary man.
Just then, Akasha spoke, her voice carrying something that could only be called amusement.
"Doctor, surely you haven't forgotten the old maxim about advancing one step further from the top of the hundred-foot pole?"
It was the motto that had lived on his lips throughout his years as a researcher. His spirit snapped wide awake, and he let out a wry smile.
"…So in the end, I have to see it through, don't I?"
"Yes."
Then, in a voice grown gentler still, she continued. "Of course, I'm well aware that as the plan has grown, the danger has grown beyond imagining, and that your worry is only natural. But I'd say your concern is a touch premature. You're forgetting one very important thing."
"And what would that be?"
"That we haven't yet built anything resembling a mass-production system for the Twin Dragon Pill. What we hold right now is a single 'possibility' — not yet a reality. Turning that possibility into reality is our first task."
Ouyang Qiangang collected himself at her words. She was right. The Twin Dragon Pill was still only an imagined wealth — an imagined danger.
"That may be, but the sheer size of that potential is enough to make my head spin."
"On that point, allow me to offer more precise data. Based on this era's figures, my estimate of the Huan Empire's total gross domestic product comes to roughly 2.2 billion taels of silver — comparable to Qing-dynasty China under the Kangxi Emperor."
"Two point two billion taels…?"
Ouyang Qiangang heard himself echo the number aloud.
"Yes. And the pill's maximum projected revenue sits at somewhere between one forty-fifth and one twenty-second of that total. It is unquestionably an enormous figure — which also means it is not a catastrophic one."
"So you're saying it can be controlled and managed?"
"Yes."
Her voice carried an absolute, unshakable trust in him. "And above all, Doctor — you aren't shouldering this enormous, dangerous undertaking alone, are you? I will calculate every variable, establish response protocols for every risk that could arise, and chart the optimal path for you to walk. So please don't worry too much. We are partners, after all."
At Akasha's words, Ouyang Qiangang felt the anxiety that had been crushing his heart melt away like snow in the sun. That was right. He was not alone. Just as they had always found a way through even the most desperate straits, this time too, they would face it together. He let out a long breath.
"All right, Akasha. Let's go together."
"Gladly!"
That very afternoon, true to his word, Heo Il-bi swiftly procured every herb Ouyang Qiangang had demanded, and Qiangang promptly shut himself away once more in the refining chamber at the rear garden of Bamboo Forest Manor.
His unorthodox refining method was remarkably efficient, but the delicate process of handling pure yin essence demanded tremendous mental fortitude. Ten high-grade Twin Dragon Pills and fifty ordinary ones per day — that was his limit. There was no rush on sales, in any case: it had been agreed that selling would begin only after sufficient stock was secured, through the bamboo-paper and grain distribution networks that Heo Il-bi operated. The pills' potency lasted four months in storage, so they planned to launch sales in earnest a month later, once a reasonable inventory had accumulated.
While Ouyang Qiangang immersed himself in refining, Heo Il-bi sent a letter to Ouyang Baek. It stated that Qiangang would be staying at Bamboo Forest Manor for the time being to focus on his recuperation. Naturally, mindful of the chance the letter might fall into the wrong hands and leak, not a single character about the Twin Dragon Pill appeared in it.
And so ten days slipped by.
Cooped up in the refining chamber, Ouyang Qiangang had come out to the side building for a brief respite, hoping to clear his head. The relentless refining work had drained his vitality and internal energy, and his complexion had gone pale again, deep fatigue hanging in his eyes.
That was when Heo Cho-ryeong came looking for him.
"Qiangang, were you in the refining room again? Keep this up and something truly bad is going to happen."
Genuine worry was written across her face. "You look even worse than you did ten days ago. Your body isn't made of iron — push yourself like this and the illness will only dig in deeper. Come out to the city with me today and get some fresh air. We'll see the famous sights, eat something delicious. Come on?"
Ouyang Qiangang, mired in his own crushing mental fatigue, had no reason to refuse. "Thank you for thinking of me, my lady. Let's do that."
The two of them went out into the city and made for the Azure Cloud Tavern, where they had failed to properly enjoy themselves last time thanks to Hwa Do-reung. Fortunately, nothing interrupted them on this occasion. They had just finished a delightful meal and stepped back out onto the street when Akasha's voice reverberated through Ouyang Qiangang's mind.
"Those two at your three o'clock and seven o'clock have been tailing you and Miss Heo ever since you left the Azure Cloud Tavern. They are not ordinary passersby."
"Who could be following us…?"
Ouyang Qiangang frowned and was just turning to glance in the directions Akasha had indicated when it happened. Some ten paces ahead, a boy of fifteen or sixteen brushed past an elderly woman in shabby clothes and, in a flash, snatched the money pouch at her waist before bolting.
The terrified old woman wailed in distress. "Th-that boy! My money! Oh no, my money!"
Heo Cho-ryeong's eyebrows shot up. "Qiangang, wait right here. I'll be back in a moment."
Without waiting for his answer, she flung herself after the pickpocket like a darting swallow. It was a busy thoroughfare, too crowded to unfold her lightfoot technique properly, yet the speed with which she threaded through the press of bodies was astonishing.
His eyes went wide at the sudden turn of events, and he shouted, "My lady, wait!"
Before his cry had even finished, Heo Cho-ryeong had vanished into the crowd.
This doesn't feel right. Akasha — what happened to the ones watching us?
"No longer visible. They concealed themselves the moment the pickpocketing occurred."
Those men and the pickpocket… something about this stinks. I have to go after her.
Gritting his teeth, Ouyang Qiangang ran in the direction Heo Cho-ryeong had disappeared.
"Hah… huff, huff…"
Before long, his breath was burning in his throat. The ever-on circulation system of the Transcendent Formless Divine Art was running continuously, but he was still a patient suffering from Nine Yin Severed Meridians — and having never systematically trained in lightfoot technique, an all-out sprint like this was never going to be easy. Even so, he circulated what meager internal energy he had and did not stop. As if to prove that the hundred-odd days of training had not been wasted, he refused to collapse and stubbornly closed the distance to Heo Cho-ryeong.
"Doctor, I will project the pickpocket's predicted escape route into your field of vision."
It was Akasha's predicted escape route for the pickpocket. Ouyang Qiangang dove down the narrow alleyways along the red line. Half a li in, he finally spotted Heo Cho-ryeong.
Hm.
The scene that met his eyes could not be called good by any stretch. In a dead-end alley, Heo Cho-ryeong stood surrounded — together with the fleeing pickpocket boy — by a good ten-odd men. And at their center stood Hwa Do-reung, arms crossed, wearing a slimy smile. The pickpocket boy had somehow already attached himself to his side, snickering insolently.
One look at the tableau before him, and Ouyang Qiangang understood at once what was going on.
A trap, laid to lure in Heo Cho-ryeong.
Even a crude trap was not without danger. However formidable a first-rate expert Heo Cho-ryeong might be, her opponents numbered more than ten men — including Hwa Do-reung, who had studied martial arts at a formal academy besides. The situation was the worst it could be, yet Heo Cho-ryeong looked calm.
Treating Ouyang Qiangang as if he weren't even there, Hwa Do-reung addressed her.
"Miss Heo, surely you can understand the depths of my heart, that I was forced to stage such a farcical little play? Let us settle this here and now. Either you come willingly into my arms, or you and that sorry excuse for a man break yourselves wretchedly upon this ground. I leave the choice to you. Of course, the consequences will be yours to bear as well."
His voice was smooth, but his eyes smoldered with something on the edge of madness.
For a moment, Ouyang Qiangang was struck speechless. No — he was so absurdly dumbfounded that his mind went cold instead, and even rage felt like a luxury. All he felt was contempt and revulsion at the vulgar extortion scene playing out before him.
Hwa Do-reung… I never imagined the heir of a great family could be this much of a farce.