Chapter 13
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Piercing Sword Sect Luoyang Branch 13
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“Using Ten Targets One Sword as bait...?”
“Hmm, that sounds pretty plausible.”
Yeo Chu-sam stroked the corner of his mouth with his hand, his eyes gleaming sharply.
“Even smart kids usually take at least three months, up to half a year, to master Three Targets. For adults whose bodies are stiff as boards, it’d take even longer.”
“That’s obvious.”
“Right? So longer time means what? It means they’ll spend more time at the training hall grinding away at the basics!”
Clap!
Yeo Chu-sam slapped Wang Mun-gi’s massive forearm—thick as a tree stump—with the palm of his hand, making a loud smack.
“You dumb bear of a guy. You still don’t get it after hearing all this?”
“Uh?”
“Better off dead than talking to a blockhead like you.”
Yeo Chu-sam let out a light sigh and shook his head.
Wang Mun-gi had been sitting quietly, oblivious even to the slap on his arm, and now he was getting scolded on top of it. He swallowed dryly, looking utterly baffled.
He demanded to know what was going on, but Yeo Chu-sam ignored him completely and whipped his head toward me.
“Senior brother, how’d you come up with such a brilliant idea?”
Yeo Chu-sam snorted through his nostrils like a hyena catching the scent of money.
Having handled the branch’s finances—even if just the petty stuff—he’d sniffed out my plan without me laying it all out.
“Not brilliant. I just thought flexibly and switched up my perspective.”
No exaggeration there.
Late at night, tearing my hair out over how to make money, I suddenly recalled the shell game hustler I’d seen at the gambling den.
The guy squats in a corner of the den, puts a pebble under one of three crudely carved wooden cups, shuffles them around, and challenges the onlookers to guess where the pebble is.
Then his planted shills—coordinated in advance—step up one by one, point to the right cup, win easily, and pocket a decent sum.
The clueless spectators, watching without a thought, get tempted and join in. Once the suckers bite, the hustler unleashes his sleight of hand and rakes in the cash.
Having trained my senses to the extreme since childhood to master ultimate swift sword forms, I couldn’t fathom why anyone fell for such a crude trick.
Yet most people not only failed to spot the hustle but didn’t even mind losing money over and over.
Why?
Because the stakes per shell game round were just ten taels or so—a pittance.
‘In a gambling den where people bet hundreds or thousands of taels on a single dice roll, who’d throw a fit over losing ten taels?’
If some cheapskate did kick up a fuss, they’d be fingered by everyone and banned from the den that day.
In other words...
As long as the hustlers faithfully kicked up a steady cut of profits to the den, fleecing the gamblers’ blind money from that corner was no issue at all.
The moment my train of thought reached that point, a spark of genius flashed in my mind.
‘Why overthink making money? Just run the training hall like a shell game—hook not just the snot-nosed kids but full-grown adults for their blind cash!’
Coming up with the idea was the hard part. Once the dam broke, setting up the operations, procedures, conditions, and revenue model was straightforward.
That’s how, overnight, I overhauled the training hall policy and laid out my thoughts for Yeo Chu-sam, who’d be running it.
The result?
“Uhahaha! Senior brother, you’re a genius—a genius! How’d you even think of something this brilliant?”
Yeo Chu-sam threw his head back in a booming laugh, his bright red gums flashing wide.
Wang Mun-gi, on the other hand, just let out a heavy grunt and stayed silent.
True to his massive build, he thought deeply. He was probably wrestling with whether it was right to dangle sect martial arts as bait to chase profits.
While Yeo Chu-sam and I bounced ideas back and forth, Wang Mun-gi kept his mouth shut, deep in contemplation.
“Running it within this framework, we can rake in Luoyang drifters’ blind money without giving away a thing.”
“Exactly! And if someone shows real talent, we quietly back them from the shadows and push for inner disciple entry. Talk about having your pheasant and egg too—one stone, two birds!”
Yeo Chu-sam’s face was flushed with excitement; he clearly loved the new training hall plan.
“Mun-gi, say something. You’ve heard enough to make up your mind by now, right?”
“...”
“What, does it bug you? Feels like we’re scamming Luoyang folks? Stinging your conscience or something?”
“Well, not exactly...”
“Not exactly? Tsk, that’s a dodge.”
Yeo Chu-sam narrowed his eyes at Wang Mun-gi with a sharp glare.
It was silent pressure: Don’t ruin the good vibes with harsh words—voice your approval.
Wang Mun-gi hemmed and hawed in a way that didn’t suit his bulk, then finally sighed faintly and nodded.
“With the branch on the brink of total collapse if we sit idle, what can’t we do?”
“Oho, that’s the spirit!”
“Yeah, let’s do it. Let’s.”
“That’s more like it—you should’ve said so sooner.”
Yeo Chu-sam whooped and clambered onto Wang Mun-gi’s back like a monkey scaling a tree.
I’d only pulled out one card from my all-nighter plan to rebuild the branch, and already they were buzzing like the debts were cleared.
‘These guys. Shell game’s just the warm-up, and I haven’t even mentioned the real hook to reel in the big money—yet they’re this hyped already.’
I planned to hype the training hall ops first, then pitch the game-changing big-money venture.
But seeing those two now, they’d let it go in one ear and out the other.
So I held my tongue, content to detail exactly what they needed to do for the training hall.
“Lots to prep before promoting the hall. We especially need tons of wooden swords and dummies, so Chu-sam, take Mun-gi to the wild hills and chop down a heap of sturdy timber.”
“You got it—leave it to me.”
“While you two climb the hills, I’ll meet the Gold Money House Luoyang branch chief, pitch our new venture, and sound him out on more funding.”
“Makes sense. Remodeling the branch and hiring shills will need a fat stack.”
“Alright, let’s move. Revamping the branch to run the hall means a mountain of work.”
“Got it.”
Yeo Chu-sam grabbed a handcart and hatchets from the storeroom, soothing Wang Mun-gi, who was griping about getting all the grunt work.
Meanwhile, I changed into my cleanest clothes from the wardrobe and headed to the Gold Money House Luoyang branch.
Gold Money House Luoyang branch chief, I Chun-sam.
Means “third son born in spring” from the I family.
You’d think naming someone so carelessly was odd, but his older siblings were named I Dong-il and I Ha-i, so “I Chun-sam” almost felt affectionate by comparison.
But never let that hick name fool you.
I Chun-sam was a dragon from the gutters—no, a money ghost was more like it. Ruthless to the core.
“Aigoo, young hero Jang. Long time no see? Your face looks brighter than last month—must be on a hot streak lately?”
“Hot streak? Just scraping by.”
“Aw, I figured since you called a meet before your lucky day, you’d bring good news with booming luck. Guess it’s the opposite?”
Hot streak?
Meant doing well at the tables lately.
Lucky day.
The day each month I slipped him backdoor grease money for funding from the House or deferring principal.
Since setting foot in Luoyang, I’d steadily done backroom deals with him, so half our talk was code between us.
“Tch, even the best have off days. You know when bad luck blocks your fortune vein, you gotta dig a new gold vein, right?”
I Chun-sam clumsily puffed on poppy buds—a trendy vice among black path small fries in Luoyang alleys these past few years.
He rifled through his well-worn ledger and continued in a sly drawl.
“Let’s see... Ah, young hero Jang, your account’s spotless? Right, since clearing it last time, your luck’s held steady.”
“Steady? Barely clinging to life.”
I Chun-sam knew I’d squared my ledger long ago and quit the tables cold.
But he also knew better than anyone that seven or eight out of ten who swear off gambling crawl back.
That’s why he’d hauled his heavy ass out quick when I requested a pre-lucky-day meet.
“Clinging on this long is booming luck, isn’t it?”
I Chun-sam flashed a lecherous grin, openly baiting me.
“Heh heh, got carried away with chit-chat in my excitement.”
“...”
“Chit-chat over. How much you thinking? Back to your peak—a bar?”
A bar meant a thousand taels.
And I Chun-sam was dead sure I’d called for gambling funds.
Sadly, today’s purpose was investment, not gambling loans.
“Chief I. Instead of halving that bar to open my luck vein... How about investing in a new gold vein?”
“New gold vein? Investment?”
I Chun-sam had spent his life on usury—pure moneylending. Never branched out.
So the word “investment” from my lips twisted his face sour on the spot.
I quickly pitched the shell game training hall plan and offered a ten percent monthly cut on lucky days.
“So you want me as backer for this?”
“Backer’s a bit crude. Let’s say investor.”
“Backer, investor—fancy words don’t matter. Key is, does it make money?”
I Chun-sam pondered a beat, then blew a long stream of poppy smoke my way.
His lip curled sleazily as he laid down terms one-sidedly.
“Thousand-tael investment, tribute fixed at a clean hundred taels monthly—profit or not.”
“...”
“Deal? Say yes, and the cash is yours today.”
Heh heh heh.