This is How You Plunder! (4)
Just getting dragged along by the enemy's demands is third-rate. Compromising on their demands without taking a loss yourself is second-rate. But going further—turning the enemy's demands into an opportunity to turn the tables and get what you want? That's something only a first-rate player can pull off.
From a young age, I'd never let anyone just take something from me without a fight.
"Hey, those shoes look cool! Mind if I try 'em on?"
Back in my wild teenage days, when some punk from that one tough crowd at every school eyed my Crocs and asked to borrow them for a sec.
"Try 'em on? Hell, you can have 'em."
"For real? Thanks, man. Heh heh."
"Oh, but I heard that kid from the rival school rocks his Crocs with a ton of beads dangling off 'em."
"That guy?"
"Yeah, you know—the one Mizjin likes from the other school."
"Oh, that pretty-boy parasite-looking fucker?"
"Guess dangling beads is the trend these days. You know how sensitive Mizjin is to fashion, right? Makes you wonder why she'd even like a guy like that..."
"You got beads?"
"Of course. But I'm not just giving 'em away. The other school charges 1,000 won a pop; I'll do 500."
"What? Gimme."
"But that kid from the other school ordered ten from me 'cause mine were cheap."
"What? Fuck, sell to me. Don't sell to that asshole."
"Sure thing. What're friends for?"
"Heh heh, this'll make Mizjin like me, right?"
"Duh!!"
And just like that, I sold him enough beads to buy a bunch more Crocs. Gave up one pair and made way more cash in return. Even as a kid, I got the real deal on unit pricing.
Murim bandits weren't all that different. Hell, they were easier to sell to than those punks. At least here in the martial world, you didn't have to sweet-talk your way through it.
When it came to business, I was straight-up first-rate. Beyond that.
"Kuhaha!! Came for protection money and ended up hooked on the ramen smell—already scarfed down ten bowls!"
"Whoa, smoked chicken drumsticks done this fancy? Why's something this labor-intensive so damn cheap?"
"These undies feel great! Gimme three more! Here's the cash!"
The bandits had rolled in to shake down an unlicensed joint, only to get blindsided by modern wonders. They were glitching out hard.
"Thank you for your purchase. Super smooth, right?"
"Wearing these fixed all my footwork issues that'd been bugging me!"
They were so mesmerized their brains had flatlined. Fine by me. More sales, more cash, store expansions on the horizon.
So, what next? What product to stock to really squeeze... encourage our Murim folks to open their wallets?
I was mulling that over when a furious roar shook the Ghost Soul Great Forest to its core.
"You fucking idiots!! What the hell are you doing here right now!!!"
It was too shrill for a bandit's bellow. The chattering bandits all whipped around toward the voice.
"Strategist?"
Strategist, huh. Probably one of the top dogs in the Green Forest Seven Villages?
I knew a bit about strategists and advisors. I'd read Romance of the Three Kingdoms, devoured plenty of wuxia novels.
"You brain-dead morons!! I sent you to scare 'em, not park your asses and pig out—what's this bullshit?!"
The man shoved through the burly bandits and planted himself in front of me.
"Listen up, owner. You know who we are, right? I'm Gu Ja-jin, strategist of the Great Green Forest Seven Villages. Better watch your step. One wrong move, and this inn's getting smashed flat!"
I locked eyes with him. Slender build, serpentine slit eyes, lips pursed tight like he was full of stubborn pride. Phrenology is science! Guys like this? Sky-high ego, bullheaded as hell.
I wiped down the crumb-strewn tables with a rag and tossed out a casual,
"Sure."
"This is our turf. You set up shop? Pay up—passage toll, residency fee, construction tax, per-square-foot operating costs, protection money. Right?"
What a clown. Making up bullshit fees to extort. Classic.
"I don't know what you fed my boys to brainwash 'em, but it won't work on me. Wait till the inn's half-collapsed before you start paying proper tribute... huh?"
Gu Ja-jin scanned the convenience store interior and froze, sucking in a sharp breath. It was a treasure trove. Floors of spotless jade tiles gleaming like mirrors. Ceiling crammed with top-grade night pearls glowing bright. And that chill in the air—what the hell? North Sea Ice Palace? Or were those iron bits everywhere actually eternal cold iron?
He'd only glimpsed the place from afar before. Up close? First time for him too. What lunatic embeds night pearls worth ten inns into the damn ceiling?
Gu Ja-jin had never seen such baseless wealth-bravado in his life. Which made him more determined to fleece it.
"Ahem. Anyway, don't pay up, and we'll take everything but the clothes off your back."
His idiot underlings weren't stealing—they were paying full price. But still, Green Forest bandits. He was Gu Ja-jin, strategist of the Seven Villages. With this many guys, no expert could touch him. See? That frosty woman by the owner was scowling but not stepping up.
That's the Green Forest way—pure intimidation flattens foes!
Chest puffed, Gu Ja-jin smirked inwardly. No tribute? Can't happen. Flaunt your riches like this, and I'll strip you to your skivvies. He pictured the Seven Villages decked in night pearls, grinning ear to ear.
Then I said,
"Of course."
What? That easy? Nah, must be 'cause I showed up. I'm the real deal!
Shoulders squared, he crowed,
"First off, those night pearls on the ceiling, the iron here, all the pricey stuff..."
But I cut in,
"But really. You sure you'll settle for just that?"
What? 'Just' that? Night pearls and eternal cold iron are 'just'...?
"I can give you as many as you want. But we've got way pricier stuff. Like this."
I held out one of the stretchy-fit men's drawers I'd handed to the bandits.
Gu Ja-jin took it reflexively, fingers rubbing the fabric. !!!
This texture... I've never felt anything like it...
His right hand trembled as he lifted it to his cheek, craving that supreme softness against his skin. But,
No! Snap out of it, Gu Ja-jin! One slutty scrap like this broke all those idiots!!
His left hand shoved the right away. After agonizing between bliss and reason, he hurled it aside.
"Guh!! Incredible. What sorcery is this?!"
Relief washed over him inwardly. He flashed his smug smile again.
"I'm not like those morons. Think you can bribe me, owner? Dream on."
"You really... gotta take it?"
"Unless you wanna die."
He jerked his head at the sprawled bandits—a silent threat: We can raze this place anytime. Got it now?
I nodded.
"Can't be helped."
His eyes sparkled. Chest out for the bandits to see: Listen up, idiots! THIS is plundering! I'm the true bandit!
I grabbed a step stool and started unscrewing every fluorescent light from the ceiling. Even detached, they kept glowing. Probably the convenience store's magic—how else would bulbs shine without power or frames?
Gu Ja-jin, arms full of "night pearls," beamed like a kid. Yeah! A real bandit plunders like this! Why bother with piss-poor silk scraps that embarrass us?
"We'll be in touch. Heh?"
He bolted out, practically skipping toward the valley hideout. Gotta brag ASAP. Sis! Your Gu Ja-jin finally did it! Seven Villages living large now! Meat with every meal!!
I watched Gu Ja-jin scamper off with pity in my eyes.
"Knew it'd go like this?"
Yoo Hwa-yeon glanced at the now-dim convenience store and sidled up.
From the start, hearing "Green Forest Seven Villages," I'd figured,
This ain't ending with those three chumps.
One-meal, two-meal, three-meal? Superfluous extras, pure cannon fodder. Someone else pulls their strings, right? Like real-life punks—brains don't think, just send minions to strut.
That logic hit me. Hand out undies for word-of-mouth. Draw in more bandits. They try 'em, buy other stuff too. Minimal investment, turned Seven Villages bandits into customers.
Now they gripe ramen's cheap and wolf down ten bowls daily. Undies cost recovered tenfold. Profitable as hell.
Wonder what the big boss behind 'em is thinking? Minions failing? Must be fuming. Easy to guess—put yourself in their shoes.
Even I'd wanna go kill 'em myself. So I pondered days on end. Their temperament? Subtle interrogations via bandits. How to bait overconfidence.
And boom—success. Dangle undies, ego kicks in, demands "night pearls." Those ain't night pearls. Step outside, they go dark, trash.
Bet he's getting reamed by his boss right now: What kinda garbage you bring?! Perfect. Was gonna replace the flickering ones anyway.
Hey, their choice. Don't threaten folks' inns. Smash! Just. Get. Scolded. Hard.