15. Light and Salt (1)
Silver two taels. In coins, that was two thousand taels. Now, Cheonghwa's threats of a hundred taels in coins seemed downright adorable.
Just then, Cheonghwa cleared his throat and approached.
"Khem, Hwi-yeong."
"Yes."
"I'll take those two taels of silver off your hands."
I narrowed my eyes. Cheonghwa knew it too—that he couldn't tie me down anymore with the hundred taels he'd fronted me.
But the situation back then was different from now. I'd gotten help from Cheonghwa to cash in those bills for coin, but this was money I'd earned purely on my own strength.
"What nonsense is that?"
"Khem. Can't talk back to your master like that."
"You're not my master yet, as far as I know."
Cheonghwa looked at a loss for words. No surprise there—he had to feel embarrassed. It was all too transparent.
At least he didn't cling on pathetically.
"Your acting was top-notch, by the way."
"Pardon?"
"I've never seen anyone roll through the air solo and slam face-first into the dirt like that."
"Khem."
This time, I was the one clearing my throat.
"How long were you watching?"
"From when Myeongseong was fighting Myeonghan."
"You saw it from the start, huh? Why didn't you step in?"
"I did make my presence known, didn't I?"
To be precise, he'd watched me dodge around for fun before finally announcing himself.
"A martial artist can't win just by dodging. You felt that yourself this time."
"I tried to attack, but it didn't land."
"You say it so boldly. That's what you should be ashamed of—failing to land a single hit on a kid way younger than you."
"Not really ashamed."
I hadn't learned any martial arts yet, so it was only natural. That's how I saw it. Cheonghwa's expression soured. The fight with Myeonghan must have stirred some competitive fire in him. But that was the kind of thinking for martial artists. To me, it was obvious you couldn't beat someone if you hadn't trained.
"Anyway, no more slacking off starting today. You need to train harder than anyone."
"What are you talking about? People lose efficiency without sleep."
"Your mindset's still way too non-martial."
"'Non-martial' isn't even a thing. Martial artists are the ones who are non-normal."
Martial artists always acted like the world revolved around them. That was the most infuriating part.
"I'm not your master, but I'm still your elder. Time to teach you some respect."
"I'm plenty respectful already."
"There are courtesies unique to martial artists that non-martial folk wouldn't know."
"I see. So normals don't know the courtesies of the non-normals."
"Right. Relax your stance. You'll get hurt."
"Pardon?"
At that moment, Cheonghwa's fist loomed huge in my vision. It was right in my face, after all.
Lightning flashed before my eyes. Agonizing pain exploded through my nose, a sharp ring that left me reeling. Then came a barrage of blows so fierce I couldn't even scream.
It was a familiar sensation. He was striking the exact same points as Cheongsu. Chase and Grill Blood Points. No blood flowed, even under this pummeling.
But the pain was double—no, triple—Cheongsu's. Only now did I realize Cheongsu had been holding back. You don't appreciate spring until the blossoms fall.
You mad bastard!
I screamed internally. It hurt too much to make a sound. Around four hundred strikes. A full incense stick's worth without pause.
Thud. When the beating ended, I collapsed, twitching like a dying bug from the pain.
That was when Cheonghwa's "education" truly began.
***
The first time Cheonghwa hit me with Chase and Grill Blood Points, I'd bought a sturdy body upgrade, but it barely helped.
—Huh? Why'd you suddenly get so tough? Guess I can hit harder now.
Saying crazy shit like that, Cheonghwa ramped up the force. Unlike Cheongsu, who kept a straight face, Cheonghwa smiled kindly as he pounded away.
Cheongsu's version left aftereffects that faded in half a shichen; Cheonghwa's lingered half a day or more.
My routine split into two: getting thrashed by Cheonghwa while learning martial arts, and dashing around Gokjeon Pavilion on messenger duty.
Training alongside the main mountain disciples' kids made it clear: my base stamina was pathetically low compared to theirs.
Just like I'd felt the external arts gap against Myeonghan, I could run all day and climb cliffs, but I was still basically a normal guy.
"Junior brother. You okay?"
The door creaked open, and Myeonggyeong's head poked in.
Strictly speaking, I wasn't a main mountain disciple yet, so not his junior brother, but Myeonggyeong called me that anyway. Or maybe he just needed one.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"If it hurts too much, make some scream-y noises. He goes easier sometimes."
"Doesn't work for me."
"...Really?"
I groaned as I dragged myself up.
"Off to Gokjeon again?"
"Yeah."
Honestly, I preferred heading to Gokjeon. Time with Cheonghwa was pure hell.
"Good luck."
Myeonggyeong's head vanished. Having a direct junior brother made him want to look out for me, but he was all thumbs about it.
I hauled my numb legs toward Gokjeon Pavilion. Navigating between Gungdo Pavilion and Gokjeon was second nature now—I could do it blindfolded.
"You're here. No dispatches today."
"Pardon?"
Cheongsu disappointed me right away. No work at Gokjeon meant heading back to Gungdo. I grabbed his pant leg on the spot.
"Pavilion Lord. Give me something to do."
"Scram, you damn brat."
"I can't leave like this. Just kill me."
Cheongsu tried shaking me off, but I clung tight. I'd bought that sturdy body recently—made me tougher.
"This punk, why won't you let go?"
"Please. I can do anything you ask."
"No jobs for trash like you."
As we tussled, the pavilion lord's office door swung open. A Gokjeon guy stared blankly at me dangling from Cheongsu's leg, then regained his composure.
"Yichang's holding a market, and Shansi Prefecture requested escorts."
"Oh? How big?"
"About fifty trade lines."
Martial sects got called wherever the Central Plains needed muscle. A fifty-line market was huge—makes sense they'd call on Wudang. And Shansi merchants were notoriously loaded, so no qualms about hiring even the Nine Great Sects.
"Ten men should do it. Pay?"
"Ten taels silver per head."
"Tch, loaded bastards."
I thought the exact opposite.
That's dirt cheap. With all that money?
Martial artists figured Shansi merchants were rich but had no clue how rich. Even if they did, it'd be understated—hiding assets to dodge the Two-Tax Law.
"We'll buy this year's salt there."
"Ah, yes. Got it."
Central Plains sects needed cash too, so they did business. Wudang bought salt cheap and resold for profit, apparently. Salt was the ultimate moneymaker.
"What's salt going for these days?"
"Thirty shi per ten taels silver. But over five hundred shi, they'll discount."
"Oh. For real...?"
"Bullshit!"
I cut Cheongsu off without thinking, a curse slipping out. Cheongsu and the Gokjeon guy gawked, then their stares turned furious.
"What the hell's with the potty mouth?"
"Sorry."
Sorry was sorry, but I had every reason to flip out. It was the salt price.
"Thirty shi per ten taels? What is this, decades ago? Makes no sense. That means it hits the people at under twenty shi per ten taels, right?"
"Decades ago? You weren't even born."
I blinked. My brain short-circuited for a sec.
Right—I'd regressed. Prices weren't what my body remembered. I'd forgotten the obvious for a moment.
"Thirty shi per ten taels?"
"Yeah."
I did the math. In my knowledge, salt was sixty shi per ten taels. Half price.
What had changed? Salt policy.
Normally, salt warrants came only from northern borders. To supply frontier troops, merchants got perks for hauling goods north. That was the Kaizhong Law.
But it switched to the Zhesai System. Merchants swapped frontier goods for salt warrants at inland Salt Transport Offices, no northern trek needed.
This flooded cheap northern salt south of Huabei, crashing prices everywhere.
Judging by rates, Zhesai wasn't in effect yet. When did it start? Around when I was about ten in my past life. Salt prices south of Huabei would tank soon.
"Absolutely not."
My calculations done, I opposed flat-out. As a merchant, I couldn't ignore it. Obvious losses ahead—silence wasn't the merchant's way.
Wudang bought salt to resell at profit. A crash would hit them hard.
"What's not?"
"Buying salt. Wait on it."
"What do you know?"
Cheongsu scoffed.
"Never heard Shansi merchants discount. What an opportunity."
I hadn't either. Wait—maybe. My brain spun again.
Shanxi had plenty of wealthy patrons bankrolling scholars and officials. Close to Beijing, they'd heard policy winds shifting.
"Don't you think they're discounting because they have a reason?"
"Overthinking it."
"No merchant is honest, all chase profit. Merchants are sly by nature, profit hounds. If they discount, there's a catch."
Harsh on my profession, but that's the era's view. Cheongsu wavered a bit. First time merchants cut prices—he smelled something fishy too.
"Can you stand by your words?"
"Of course!"
I declared confidently. Results would prove me right. Maybe they'd call me Hwi-yeong the Radiant—shining bright, after all. Triple lights.
Holding a favor over Wudang would help my merchant ventures later. But first, ditch main mountain disciple life...
"Then prove it to the sect leader."
"Pardon?"
"You said you'd take responsibility. Salt's a big Wudang business. Changing plans needs his okay."
"...No."
Didn't see that coming. Whatever—Cheongsu had already decided I'd meet the sect leader.
...Screwed.