Shandong's Greatest Martial Clan (7)
“Apologize.”
“What?”
“Apologize. You know, beg for forgiveness.”
“……”
“You were mocking us earlier. Something about gold power this and that.”
“No, that was…”
“Whether we solve it with money or force, that's our choice to make, isn't it? Not something for the third elder to butt in on.”
Yeo Woong-hyeon couldn't muster a single reply to Jin Yeo-rip's words.
“What's wrong? Don't want to? Then go tell the Hwangbo family head. Say you invited us, but we couldn't come because your rudeness hurt our pride.”
“Young master, what are you…”
“Don't like that either? Fine, don't say anything. When they ask later why, I'll come explain every single mistake you made, point by point.”
“……”
“Still no intention of apologizing?”
After a moment's agonized hesitation at Jin Yeo-rip's prodding, Yeo Woong-hyeon let out a deep sigh and bowed his head low toward Jin Ha-seong.
He had no choice.
He'd assumed they'd follow along naturally—who would dare defy the Hwangbo family head's command in Shandong? No one with any sense, unless their guts were hanging out.
But Jin Yeo-rip had flat-out refused.
If he reported that as-is, relations with Cheongeumbang would sour even further. And the problem was him—he'd be branded an incompetent warrior who couldn't even fetch one person.
Once the head learned the refusal stemmed from his own doing, would he let it slide?
Damn it, I got outplayed by this kid.
“Cheongeumbang leader, my words were out of line. Please forgive me.”
“Ah, well… it's fine.”
Jin Ha-seong nodded, accepting the apology.
It was an unfamiliar sight. Warriors with sky-high pride rarely bowed their heads to outsiders from other clans.
Wasn't that the essence of a martial artist—valuing honor and pride above life itself?
Yet his son had bent the man with mere words and extracted an apology.
It reminded him of a young Baekhak from days gone by—standing tall and regal, rebuking the world's warriors.
Fix your words and actions, and you'll fear nothing, he'd always taught.
Martial prowess, business acumen, eloquence. What the hell was this kid aiming to become, showing such diverse talents?
“Planning to keep your head down forever?”
“……”
“That's not the only place you owe an apology, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Earlier, you said to my guard, 'Gwiyeong's still got that hot temper. I just wanted to ask after you, but you're flying off the handle.'”
“……”
“Not even close. He doesn't have a short fuse, and he doesn't get mad easily.”
Jin Yeo-rip mimicked Yeo Woong-hyeon's exact words to defend Im Pilsaeng, prompting the man to grit his teeth and bow in apology.
“I'm sorry, senior. My mistake.”
“Yeah, now you're learning some manners. People gotta be taught, right? From now on, bow like that every time you see your senior.”
Unlike Jin Ha-seong, Im Pilsaeng knew how to enjoy an apology. He smirked, raking the man's nerves raw, leaving Yeo Woong-hyeon grinding his teeth in fury—though still smiling.
“Enough now, Young Master Jin. Our family head is waiting.”
“One more thing left.”
“……What else is there? Who do I apologize to this time?”
As Yeo Woong-hyeon asked through a face twitching from forced laughter, Jin Yeo-rip pointed at the table.
“That.”
“……”
At Jin Yeo-rip's gesture, Yeo Woong-hyeon finally snapped.
“Are you mocking me now? Apologize to a table?”
“Who said that?”
“What?”
“Who apologizes to tables?”
“……”
“The food's gone cold. Because you barged in. Obviously, you're paying for it.”
“What did you say?”
“I don't eat cold food. You know that, right? Born with a silver spoon and all.”
Yeo Woong-hyeon inwardly stabbed Jin Yeo-rip a thousand times over at that sly grin.
What could he do? The knife was long out of his hands.
Suppressing his rage, Yeo Woong-hyeon pulled a money pouch from his belt and handed it over wholesale. He didn't even want to talk anymore.
But when Jin Yeo-rip opened it, his expression turned odd.
“Huh? Just this much? Your pouch is tiny.”
“There are several silver ingots in…”
“Don't you know Wolseong Pavilion's food is pricey? Plus, you owe extra for wasting my time.”
As Jin Yeo-rip blatantly demanded more, Yeo Woong-hyeon inwardly unleashed every curse in the book.
This dog bastard, this damned, son of a bitch!
But he couldn't show it.
“You lot! Your pouches.”
“Pardon?”
“Hand them over, quick!”
“Ah! Yes, sir.”
He bullied his accompanying Hwangbo warriors into surrendering their pouches.
“Here. Is this enough?”
“Hm, it's meager, but it'll do.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Jin Yeo-rip checked every pouch, nodding with a dissatisfied face, and Yeo Woong-hyeon spat through clenched teeth.
“Alright, let's go.”
“Sure.”
“Oh! Forgot the greeting. Unlike some, I'm polite, so I can't skip it.”
Jin Yeo-rip bowed to Jin Ha-seong.
“Father, the Hwangbo family head has summoned me, so I'll go with Pilsaeng Uncle.”
“Huh? Not with your old man?”
“Gotta. Seems like it's just me.”
“No, that's…”
Jin Ha-seong couldn't hide his unease. Watching his son verbally dismantle Yeo Woong-hyeon had been satisfying, but sending him alone to meet the Hwangbo head made his heart sink.
The kid might pull the same stunts there. Better tag along and rein him in.
“We should go together. It's been ages since I last saw the Hwangbo head; might as well pay my respects.”
“Together?”
“Yeah.”
“Hm, alright then?”
As Jin Yeo-rip glanced over, Yeo Woong-hyeon nodded.
“Then we'll all go.”
Jin Yeo-rip beamed and followed Yeo Woong-hyeon out—or so it seemed. But just past Wolseong Pavilion's entrance, he stopped again.
“Huh?”
“What's wrong? Some issue?”
“You didn't come to drag me off, did you?”
“Pardon?”
“Wasn't I invited?”
“Yes.”
“Then where's the carriage?”
“……”
“I'm frail, you see. Hate walking. Even took a carriage to the academy.”
“Ah…”
Yeo Woong-hyeon was already mentally butchering Jin Yeo-rip dozens of times.
This little shit! A frail body, huh? That's what kicked our young master around?
“My apologies. We were short-sighted and didn't prepare one. It's close by; just a short walk.”
“Then fetch one.”
“Pardon?”
“Told you. I'm frail.”
Jin Yeo-rip patted his thigh like it hurt.
“Or… wanna carry me?”
Yeo Woong-hyeon bellowed the order.
“Biun!”
“Yes!”
“Get it!”
“Pardon?”
“Fetch the damn carriage! Young Master Jin says he's frail!”
His voice seethed with rage—perfect for venting on his subordinate.
You idiot. Should've been polite from the start.
Ah, this hits the spot.
“Yeo-rip.”
“Yes.”
“That's enough.”
“Pardon?”
“We've gotten plenty of apologies and given him a good scolding. Time to stop. We can't provoke the Hwangbo family further. It could backfire.”
“……”
“You understand, right?”
In the carriage together, Jin Yeo-rip chuckled at Jin Ha-seong's words. The usual stern face was gone, replaced by pure worry.
“The Hwangbo head…”
“I know.”
“Huh?”
“Father, you think I have no brains?”
He'd seemed brainless tormenting Yeo Woong-hyeon, ignoring consequences.
His son was different every time—from his Cheongeumbang debut, the academy mess, boldly facing the Wall Mountain Band, and now.
And his people-handling skills grew daily. Persuasion one moment, cornering with sharp words the next, always getting his way.
Great for a merchant, but precarious. These were murim folk, after all.
Especially the Hwangbo head they were about to meet…
“Don't worry. I only pushed because it was warranted.”
“Warranted?”
“Yeah. I could guess why they summoned me.”
“What do you mean?”
“They came about the young master, right? So they know Pilsaeng Uncle's with me.”
“Probably.”
“If they wanted to punish me, they wouldn't send just as many warriors as me. The issue isn't me—it's that they planned to fight Shandong's Greatest Sword Gwiyeong, which is unbelievable.”
“Hm…”
Jin Yeo-rip grinned.
“Since they didn't, the head just wants to meet me.”
“He's curious about you?”
“Yep. Heard from Pilsaeng Uncle—the young master's seat isn't ordinary. Raised with the family's expectations, elite training from birth, genius among geniuses.”
“Makes sense.”
“So how curious must he be? His precious son, raised like gold and jade, lost fair and square.”
Jin Ha-seong nodded in agreement, then marveled.
“Hah! You calculated all that and acted?”
“Yes.”
“Whew, your insight is astounding. All those thoughts in that moment.”
“Me too.”
“Huh?”
“My insight's too amazing.”
Jin Ha-seong burst out laughing at his son's playful grin.
But it was sincere. Even he was shocked.
It wasn't calculated like the Wall Mountain Band. He'd just been pissed, and as he spoke, the situation clicked.
Weird, huh?
Genius. Probably the original Jin Yeo-rip's nature.
Maybe both were growing—the modern soul awakened in a new world, and the original owner abandoned young to Shaolin.
Life had truly begun at Cheongeumbang.
“Yeo-rip.”
“Yes.”
“But keep this in mind.”
“……”
“Wall Mountain Band, just now—things don't always go your way. You can't predict every twist with human power.”
“Yes.”
“Impressive using the moment on the fly, but always think ahead and stay vigilant. It's just you now, but soon you'll have people around you. One decision affects all their lives.”
Sincere worry, sincere advice.
“Don't cross any lines with the Hwangbo head.”
“I'll remember.”
“Whew, kid…”
Jin Yeo-rip smiled sweetly in reply, then asked with sparkling curiosity.
“So, what's the Hwangbo family head like?”
“Like how?”
“Gotta talk since he wants to meet. Better know something.”
“Hm. The Hwangbo head… We're older now, positions different, drifted apart. But young, we were close. Hung out as late-blooming talents. Your mother too—we were all peers.”
Jin Ha-seong described the Hwangbo head as he knew him.
Not as bad as the elders claimed, then. Though public and private were separate.
Divine Fist, Hwangbo Mungang.
A peer of his father's, a prodigy from youth.
Makes sense with "god" in the title…
“Your maternal grandfather spared no praise at twenty. Said he'd surpass him soon.”
“……Pardon?”
Praise? What was this?
Even if not because of the Ak family, Hwangbo and Ak had long been rivals.
This was nothing like expected.
He'd heard endless maternal grandfather tales—from three people right beside him.
Divine Spear Ak Hwi. Heavenly First Spear, proudly in the Central Plains' top hundred experts.
A hundred out of countless martial artists like grains of sand? Incredible.
Even the Taesan Butcher who slew three hundred alone, and Im Pilsaeng with his Shandong Greatest Sword feat(?), revered him.
If that grandfather praised him as surpassing… how strong now?
“His excellence wasn't just martial. Business savvy rivaled mine; even renowned scholar Baekhak praised his learning.”
Jin Yeo-rip's jaw dropped.
As the premier clan of the entire Shandong region, they were renowned for being utterly flawless in their business ventures, their scholarly pursuits, and their mastery of the martial arts, making their heirs the absolute definition of perfect son-in-law material. They represented the ultimate ideal of a son who excels in every conceivable field, possessing the kind of multifaceted perfection that makes any comparison feel like an exercise in futility.
Must've crushed childhood friends' spirits.
Suddenly, Jin Yeo-rip stared at his father.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“So bland.”
“……”
Just curious. How'd Dad befriend that perfect guy?
Then it hit: He's rich.