All the Chieftains Turn to Temusi-i
"Of course something can be done. Don't speak so weakly. I'll send for a physician from across the river—"
Hong-wi was thinking of the same physician who had once saved Old Man Cheon's life. If he summoned a healer from beyond the Yalu, surely the Great Chieftain could be treated.
But Onyan Isiha slowly shook his head.
"It is not that this side of the river lacks wise, experienced physicians. But a young man must have the wisdom to step back and leave what comes after to the old man's own judgment. That is the natural order of things."
"How many years would it take before a young man could fill a place like yours! You must live ten more years at the very least."
"You ask a sick, feeble old man who has committed no great sin to shoulder a burden far too heavy for him. Is that not too much?"
Onyan Isiha let out a hearty laugh—but the mirth in it was faint, and terribly thin.
"If not for my own sake, then for Lady Wolyeong's."
"Ah. Wolyeong."
Onyan Isiha sighed and fixed his gaze steadily on Hong-wi.
"That child is the very reason I ask this. Lord Temusi-i, I beg you to take her under your protection. I know full well how heavy a burden an old man's request can be. Had our circumstances been easier—had my son Temur, wretched fate, not been taken before this old father—then I would never have dared to trouble you like this."
Deep grief and anguish weighed upon every syllable of Onyan Isiha's voice.
Hong-wi could say nothing at all.
"There is no one else to whom I could entrust her. In all of Jianzhou today, you cannot find a single soul with both the courage and the ability to stand against Lee Man-ju's black hands. Like my half-brother Ichigeo, they flock to Lee Man-ju's side—or else, like Pan-chya, Bohato, Naranghap, and Tungshan, they simply cower, careful never to ruffle the man's temper. Is that not the most absurd thing you have ever heard? In this vast Jianzhou, there is not one— not a single person this old man can trust enough to leave things to!"
Onyan Isiha looked down at his clenched fist.
There was a time when, if a weapon rested in that hand, no one in Jianzhou could have stood against him.
But now his fist looked so terribly weak.
"Truly, I can only count myself fortunate that I was granted the chance to meet you, Lord Temusi-i, before my allotted time ran out."
"Your words honor me, Elder."
Hong-wi answered quietly.
"But I do not believe I am the only person you are looking for. Take Tung Jugang, for instance—"
"Ah, yes. There is always Tung Jugang."
Onyan Isiha smiled.
For a moment, he was lost in old memories of the boy he had raised like his own son.
"But have you ever marked the way that boy looks at my daughter? That is the gaze of a brother toward his own sister, not the gaze of a man toward his beloved. I can feel the difference."
"I, too, have someone else who holds my heart."
A dull ache stirred in a corner of Hong-wi's chest.
Song Hyo-bin.
He murmured the name in his mind.
Though she had met her death in Yeongwol long ago, he still could not let her go.
He did not deny Wolyeong's charms. And yet, even so, Hong-wi could not bring himself to give his heart to her.
Onyan Isiha stared long and hard into both of Hong-wi's eyes, then turned his gaze away.
"Is that so."
After a moment, the old chieftain sighed.
"I see it. Your eyes say as much. A man's heart with such a look in it can never be turned aside. Ah—what a pity, what a pity!"
Hong-wi, too, was deeply moved by the old man's lament.
It was not the lament of a chieftain wary of an ambitious warlord like Lee Man-ju. It was the lament of a father who had a daughter.
"I cannot take Lady Wolyeong as my wife."
Hong-wi continued.
"But if you ask it of me, I will swear to protect her with all my strength."
"Hmm."
Onyan Isiha thought for a while, then nodded slowly.
"For now, that is enough for me."
Onyan Isiha said gently.
"You have a long road tomorrow. Rest early."
"Please, take care of your health as well, Elder—"
The next day, Hong-wi bade his farewell.
Onyan Isiha sent him off with parting gifts.
Deep traces of turmoil were plainly etched on Hong-wi's face—but only Hong-wi himself knew what they meant.
Hong-wi's caravan returned to Hwangseongpyeong like a triumphant general's homecoming procession.
The people of Hwangseongpyeong stared at the long line of pack horses with astonished eyes.
Pushan Hadaru, who had returned to the plain sunk in gloom, saw it too, and his eyes went wide as saucers.
When Lee Go-nap-hap had abruptly turned cold and gone back to Sorobirada, he had been left at a complete loss, wringing his hands in bewilderment.
How is that wretch even alive?
Pushan Hadaru could scarcely believe Hong-wi had come back whole in the first place.
The road to Anchuunbugu had certainly been blocked by those Kunuma brothers—or so it should have been.
All the while he had been at Anchuunbugu, Pushan Hadaru had kept his eyes fixed solely on Lee Go-nap-hap's temper, and had never once spared a glance for Hong-wi. He had not even joined in the festival after the great hunt, so the fact that Hong-wi had arrived safely at Anchuunbugu was entirely unknown to him.
But the truly staggering thing was something else entirely.
"What—what is all this? Where did it come from?"
"As you can see—Lord Temusi-i and the Great Chieftain Onyan of Anchuunbugu came to a fine understanding this time. He was good enough to smooth our way at every turn."
Hong-wi replied, utterly unbothered.
Pushan Hadaru looked at the goods loaded on the dozens of pack horses, and his open mouth refused to close.
"Smoothed your way, you say?"
It would have been fair to say this went well beyond smoothing the way—it was as if the man had handed over his own liver and gallbladder. Valuable furs and choice local goods were heaped thick upon the backs of the pack horses. At even a passing glance, the wealth was worth several times what Hong-wi's party had carried out as gifts.
This was far beyond a mere return gift.
No—even if they had gone purely on business, they could not have turned a profit like this.
"Then this is—this is all a return gift?"
Pushan Hadaru felt as if he had been bewitched by a ghost.
How could this young upstart—and a Joseon man at that—have won over the Great Chieftain Onyan Isiha himself? The Sahalcha country bumpkins were one thing, but him?
"Not all of it. The Great Chieftain gave a proper return gift with his own hands, but most of this comes from the chieftains he introduced to us. It is, so to speak, an advance payment—goods they sent down in anticipation of future trade."
"What?"
Pushan Hadaru was dumbfounded.
As Hong-wi began reciting the names of the chieftains he had met, Pushan Hadaru felt himself stabbed, again and again, as if by knife after knife.
Among those names were merchants who had long traded with his own company.
Worse—there were even those who had haughtily refused his repeated pleas for continued dealings.
Did the wretch work some kind of sorcery? Or has that old fool Onyan Isiha finally lost his mind with age? What on earth could be so pretty about this Joseon man that he'd fawn over him like this—
"May I take my leave now?"
"Uh… yes, be on your way."
Pushan Hadaru answered vaguely.
He still could not believe what was happening before his eyes.
He turned to Ugunai, who stood with his mouth shut and a grave expression, and asked helplessly.
"What in the world did that man use to charm Onyan Isiha so completely?"
"I don't know."
"Hey! 'I don't know' is not an answer!"
Pushan Hadaru flared up. He jabbed a finger at Ugunai and shouted.
"Everything's going just swimmingly, isn't it! Ugunai, what was it you said? If we sent that brat to Anchuunbugu, he'd walk straight into a death trap on his own, wasn't that it? Does that look like walking into a death trap to you?"
"I have no face left to show you."
But Ugunai was just as baffled.
What on earth had those Kunuma brothers been doing?
Could that Joseon man have broken them?
Ugunai shook his head. It was impossible.
But then again—wasn't it just as impossible that this Temusi-i had racked up success after success from the very start? Sent to a place meant to kill him, Temusi-i had not only come back alive but had even walked away with an enormous profit.
Pushan Hadaru snapped.
"Let's just go back!"
But the shocks awaiting Pushan Hadaru did not end there.
Within days of Hong-wi's return, chieftains from every quarter began sending messengers.
And every single one of them was asking for Temusi-i.
"Is it true you have a merchant called Temusi-i under you?"
"No, but—what does he want with him?"
"Our chieftain wishes to trade with his caravan from now on."
"What?"
Pushan Hadaru was bewildered.
These were proud chieftains who had barely deigned to deal with Pushan Hadaru himself—all of them now seeking out this young upstart first.
What on earth was going on?
But there was no time merely to gape. The first one or two had been passable, but then the chieftains and clan heads begging for Temusi-i began lining up in an unbroken queue.
The moment they learned that Temusi-i was in fact an independent caravan, unaffiliated with Pushan Hadaru's company, they unfailingly turned on their heels and left.
Even villages that had traded with Pushan Hadaru for years were abandoning him one after another.
"Now hold on. Hasn't our caravan's man Yukuri been making rounds to your tribe all this time? And now, of all things, you want Temusi-i? What is the meaning of this?"
"Aye, don't ask me why the chieftain wants it. All's I know is he's set on finding this Temusi-i."
Pushan Hadaru, watching his clients slip away before his very eyes, stamped his feet in fury.
The trade network the Pushan family had built over generations was collapsing overnight.
And all because he had been outmatched by a Joseon man!
Pushan Hadaru could not understand it. It defied all reason.
Among the frontier tribes, kin came first, and one's own people came next. When tribesmen quarreled with outsiders, they sided with their own blood, without asking questions or weighing right and wrong. True, the tribes were riddled with factions, and if the rival belonged to a hostile clan, they were just as happy to join hands with Joseon and thrash him—but still.
"Come on, have a heart. Just tell me what kind of devilry this is, will you? Eh?"
"Agh, how many times do I have to say it? I don't know."
If things went on like this, every last client of his company would be snatched away before he could even cry out. Pushan Hadaru was burning with anxiety.
And with repayment to Hwang Ga looming over finances that were already gasping for air, the blow could hardly have been more fatal.
"What is going on? Why is everyone after Temusi-i and no one else?"
"Well—word is that ever since the Great Chieftain Onyan Isiha personally introduced him, every chieftain's favor has swung his way."
"What? Onyan Isiha, personally?"
Pushan Hadaru's mouth fell open.
Considering the old man's prestige, it was no strange thing at all.
"What could that old man possibly have gotten out of it? When did he even meet this Joseon fellow, that he's wrapped around his finger like this?"
Pushan Hadaru wailed.
Ugunai spoke up anxiously.
"Th-that is, we must do something about it. One way or another."
"Do something? Do what, exactly? What more can be done at this point!"
Pushan Hadaru snapped. Ugunai answered.
"We must go to Temusi-i and settle this with him face to face."
"What did you say?"
Pushan Hadaru's face twisted.
He shot up from his seat, jabbed a finger at Ugunai, and roared like thunder.
"Listen to me, Ugunai!"
Ugunai's expression did not so much as flicker at the outburst.
"You mean to say that I, of all people, must bow my head to that Temusi-i?"
"There is no other way. Otherwise, you'll wither up and die of thirst. You still owe the money you borrowed from Hwang Ga—what then, if the creditors come calling?"
"Ugh…!"
Pushan Hadaru slumped to the floor, drained.
He knew better than anyone the position his company was in.
He knew that if things went on like this, ruin was coming for it—soon, and there would be no escaping it.