The Ice That Draws Eyes
Gyounam’s commercial landscape was an unusual one.
Unlike Zhejiang or Fujian, it did not send a great many trade ships overseas. Instead it served as a transit hub—funneling northern export goods southward, and southern imports inland and toward the north. With a thriving fishing industry layered on top of that, every kind of cargo mixed freely in its markets, and the structure of the trade made it all too easy for smuggled goods to slip in outside the law.
A commercial order like this inevitably spawned a host of merchant guilds. Every commodity demanded its own distribution network and its own method of transport, so each guild leaned hard on specialization and moved strictly according to plan.
Then a small ripple passed through Gyounam.
Ice—essential to every chain of distribution—had begun to sell at rock-bottom prices. At half the usual cost, no less. Guilds that had been cutting back on inland shipments started clicking their abacuses again.
We can supply ice without interruption, even through the summer.
The Donghae Merchant Guild made the promise with confidence and locked in supply contracts across the waterfront. After the first few days their deliveries settled into a steady rhythm, and the reason was simple: Donghae had swollen its workforce on a massive scale—the direct result of absorbing the Sea Dragon Labor Agency.
“Lord of the Manor. We wish to join our strength with yours.”
“We have decided to trust the Guild Master and follow him.”
The entire merger was sealed at Deungmyeong Manor. The first seeds of the idea had been planted at that Spring Festival gathering. Talk of the ice business had led to talk of amalgamation, and in the end they became one. The name Sea Dragon Labor Agency vanished, and So Yeondok was given the rank of Maritime Division Chief—second only to the Chief Manager.
The merger was more than a simple infusion of hands. The labor agency’s connections immediately generated demand on a new scale.
The ships want ice.
At first only the inland-bound guilds had shown interest. Before long the shipowners themselves were placing orders. A vessel could be fitted with an ice hold if the owner chose, and demand exploded. Ships that had once left cargo behind now filled every empty space.
By the time spring gave way to summer, the Donghae Merchant Guild was the busiest house in Gyounam.
In the flower-drenched month of May, Donghae began expanding its brewery. With the profits from ice, they finally had the means to buy up the shops around the distillery.
“Selling Donghae Wine alongside the ice has been an enormous help. We’re getting separate orders for the wine now as well.”
The shipowners’ hunger for ice had grown so fierce that priorities were inevitable. To climb the list, captains began buying Donghae Wine—the guild’s signature product—in bulk. It was the fastest way to deepen a relationship with Donghae. The wine’s reputation was already established, so moving it through other ports was no trouble. Purchase volumes climbed, and in some harbors Donghae Wine became the main draw. For the guild, ice was only half the windfall.
“Guild Master. At this rate we could put the ships back on the trade routes.”
“No. This year we concentrate on ice and Donghae Wine. Direct trade can wait until next year—we’ll prepare properly.”
By May the once-cheap ice was climbing in price again.
“This summer we need to lock in a real profit from the ice. We focus here for now.”
Jo Pilseong chose certainty over greed.
“How is the labor agency?”
“About three-tenths of Gyounam’s sailors have joined as our members.”
“Excellent.”
“Please, speak more comfortably, Guild Master.”
“Haha. After this summer, I will. Until then we all stay sharp. The Lord of the Manor gave us this chance—we have to wring every drop from it.”
“Of course. Just give the order.”
So Yeondok was settling into life under the Donghae banner. Half the weight that had once sat on his shoulders felt lifted. The guild treated its people well, and the younger brothers who had come with him from the Sea Dragon days were content.
Not that many of them are left.
Even after the Sea Dragon Hall disbanded, more than a few had found the grind of the labor agency too much and walked away.
The ones who stayed go the distance with me.
Barely twenty men.
“All right. Let’s move.”
The dawn meeting broke, and they returned to their posts.
That summer was unusually hot—and Donghae was unusually busy. They even had to put sailors to work as laborers.
Wages match the work.
With Donghae promising higher pay, ice poured endlessly out of the manor and returned as heavy silver. The ten guild members with personal ties to Ja Gangcheon simply took room and board at the manor; the Bing-okgo could not be shown to strangers.
Ice alone earned Donghae enough to rival the great trading houses of the southern markets. Add the surging popularity of Donghae Wine, and the guild’s name burned hotter than any other in Gyounam.
When the fierce summer finally cooled into autumn—
“What is all this?”
Chests packed with silver sat lined across the great hall’s wooden floor.
“Payment for the ice we’ve been supplying.”
It was the settlement for the past six months. As promised, Donghae had paid thirty percent of sales as the ice fee.
“Five thousand taels of silver.”
An almost absurd sum. Water turned to ice, labor was supplied by Donghae itself—five thousand taels was pure profit.
“Still not enough to build a ship, is it?”
“It won’t quite cover it. But seven thousand taels a year in steady income is nothing to sneer at.”
“True. That’s enough to buy a manor like this every single year.”
Ja Gangcheon studied the neatly stacked silver, then spoke with a touch of regret.
“What if we sold a few martial manuals? Is there a quiet way to do it?”
“Hold off a little longer. It’s too soon to invite a bloodstorm.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
He was not the same Ja Gangcheon as before.
“I like the peace we have now.”
Affection for the people around him had taken root. Selling the manuals risked shattering everything.
“Something else, though—what we were afraid of has started.”
The brightness drained from Cheongu’s face, replaced by worry.
“What happened?”
“It looks like the Hao Gate has sent people into Gyounam.”
The name alone left a foul taste in Ja Gangcheon’s mouth.
Agents of the Hao Gate were everywhere.
In sheer numbers they were the only organization that could rival the Beggars’ Union. What kept them dismissed was the uneven quality and skill of individual members.
You may look down on them—but you cannot afford to be careless.
That was how the martial world treated Hao Gate agents, and it was exactly the posture the Hao Gate had been founded to create.
“The local Hao Gate people keep meeting the same handful of men. From the way they behave, someone higher up has arrived.”
“How many came?”
“The one who seems to be in charge is Cheon Byeong-il—he’s working as a servant at Maehyang Pavilion. He’s met regularly with five others.”
The quality of the intelligence was impressive.
“How did you dig this up?”
“Beggars, shop clerks, the Donghae Merchant Guild, and the traders—I put everything together.”
Cheongu had been meeting those sources on a steady schedule.
“I’ve been watching carefully ever since we ran into the Hao Gate last time. You may not realize it, but a lot of people treat anyone from Deungmyeong Manor as a friend. Finding out who came from where isn’t hard.”
“Because we wiped out the Black Society.”
“Exactly. That made the work easier.”
Even so, uncovering the Hao Gate’s arrival entirely on his own was no small feat.
“We don’t have much time. Once the Hao Gate starts moving in earnest, our own information network will be exposed.”
However sharp Cheongu was, he could not match the Hao Gate’s decades of experience and manpower. Catching their movements first would only be possible now.
“Was Maehyang Pavilion Hao Gate all along?”
“I don’t know the internal details for certain, but it’s definitely their center of operations here.”
Ja Gangcheon fell silent for a moment.
“We can’t just leave them alone, can we?”
“Having the truth about you get out is not a good thing. The Ice Crystal you buried, the hidden vault—if the Hao Gate keeps digging and the martial manuals come to light, you’ll be standing at the heart of a bloodstorm, just like you said.”
Cheongu was right. Moving the carriage all the way to Mount Wudang had already been a risk, and now they were actively using the Ice Crystal. The mere revelation of its existence would prove that treasures from Guigokdo had left the island.
“Was I too complacent?”
He asked himself the question—then shook his head.
“It had to be done.”
Bringing out the Ice Crystal had been partly to help the Donghae Merchant Guild, but the real purpose was to fund a ship that could reach Guigokdo. There was still far more work ahead. And if surveillance tightened, even training inside the manor would have to be done with caution. Walls did not hide everything.
I refuse to be interfered with.
He had no desire to tiptoe around because of the Hao Gate.
“You’re right. But if we strike the Hao Gate without cause, we only hand them a pretext.”
Walking the tightrope was what the Hao Gate did best. They kept just shy of the line—then, the moment an opponent crossed it, they weaponized that pretext without mercy.
“So this is why Mother called them filth. I don’t like this at all.”
Ja Gangcheon’s face twisted. A flash of pure injustice cut through him.
“Why am I the one who has to worry about those bastards?”
“You always worry about something.”
“But the ones who came here with a purpose are the Hao Gate.”
“True.”
“Then the Hao Gate should be the ones doing the worrying.”
That was Ja Gangcheon’s logic. If you want something, you put in the effort yourself. When the burden is flipped, people feel wronged—and that was exactly how he felt now.
“Come on. Time to hand the worry over.”
Ja Gangcheon set out for Maehyang Pavilion, where Cheon Byeong-il was said to be.
The street of pleasure houses was quiet in the daylight.
“My, my! Handsome young masters in such a hurry? Come back in an hour!”
“Young master! I’m free right now. Shall I set out wine? Or lay out the bedding?”
Courtesans preparing for the evening’s trade tossed jokes at the two boys. For mid-teens the words should have been mortifying—yet somehow neither of them so much as flinched.
“What’s wrong with them?”
“They’re teasing us.”
Ja Gangcheon had not even recognized the remarks as jokes. Cheongu, for his part, had been here often enough on errands; Donghae Wine’s main sales channel was the pleasure houses.
“Mihyang, even those kids can tell you’re past your prime. They won’t even look at you.”
“Shut your mouth, you witch! Cover up those neck wrinkles!”
“What did you say, you crazy bitch?!”
From Ja Gangcheon’s point of view, the place was pure entertainment.
“Why are they suddenly fighting?”
“Women always fight over things like that.”
“It’s not our fault, right?”
“No.”
They stopped before the last building on the row.
Maehyang Pavilion. Small in scale, yet packed every night—famous above all for the quality of its courtesans.
Through the open gate they could see men sweeping the courtyard, musicians preparing their instruments, and women in brilliant silks.
“Hello, Uncle.”
Ja Gangcheon walked straight in.
“Young masters. We are not open yet.”
“We’re here to see someone.”
A servant in his forties, broom still in hand, lifted his head.
“Whom do you seek?”
Suspicion flickered in his eyes, but the courtesy of habit held firm.
“We’ve come to meet a man named Cheon Byeong-il.”
“Who?”
“Cheon Byeong-il of the Hao Gate. He’s here right now, isn’t he?”
He said it as casually as if he were looking up a favorite cousin.
“There is no such per—”
Boom!
Ja Gangcheon stamped down hard, releasing a true-force step. The vibration he created rolled across the courtyard and shook the entire pavilion. The servant’s face went deathly white under the impact.
“You knew who I was from the start.”
At the ice in that voice, the servant swallowed hard. Then another voice answered from elsewhere in the yard.
“I am Cheon Byeong-il.”
“Why is it always that someone has to be in danger before you people show yourselves?”
He wore the same servant’s clothes, but his skin was pale and his hair neatly ordered. A lean man in his mid-forties, balanced muscle under a modest frame, a beard that ran from his sideburns down along his jaw—altogether a distinctly masculine presence.
“I came because I don’t like being watched.”
Cheon Byeong-il of the Hao Gate had expected a moment like this eventually. Running into a surveillance target mid-mission was common enough.
But I’ve never met a lunatic quite like this one.
Walking into a pleasure house and openly asking for the Hao Gate was already madness. Doing it while flexing raw power to force him into the open was something else entirely.
“Perhaps we might move to another place.”
“Is that an order?”
That retort he had not expected either.
If I answer the wrong way… I might die right here.
The pressure was crushing. Ja Gangcheon’s eyes had gone cold and empty of feeling.
Those are the eyes of a man who will do anything.
Nothing like the profile he had assembled so far.
Warm-hearted. Mixes well with people. Extremely generous to his own. Judging by the contracts with the guild, not particularly greedy for wealth.
That had been the intelligence on Ja Gangcheon. The man standing in front of him now radiated a presence that shattered every line of it.
“I would be grateful if we could speak elsewhere. Would that be acceptable?”
“Lead the way.”
Fortunately for Cheon Byeong-il, he was allowed to leave the uncomfortable stage.