Light and Salt (3)
Fortunately, the lay disciples in the outer courtyard were on break. Unlike the main sect disciples, they didn't have schedules packed quite as tightly. Teaching lay disciples was half-hearted anyway—after all, they were outsiders.
"What's this all of a sudden?"
There were already plenty of people gathered around Jeon O-su. As expected from a sharp guy like him, he'd already buttered up a crowd.
"Ah, got something to say."
"To me personally? Then let's go inside..."
"Nah, to everyone here."
No dead weight hung around Jeon O-su. He was the type who sized people up and cut out the useless ones.
And sure enough, there was a soft-featured face right by his side—Yeo Hong-yang, son of the Merchant King. No idea how Jeon O-su had sniffed him out, but it was impressive maneuvering.
"What's going on?"
"No Shanxi merchant families here, right?"
First things first, I had to check. Jeon O-su tilted his head and nodded.
"Yeah. Why would Shanxi merchants send lay disciples all the way to Wudang? They'd stick to closer spots like Huashan in Shaanxi, Zhongnan, or Shaolin in Henan."
"Fair point."
Just covering bases, though—who knew what twists the world might throw?
Good news: no Shanxi merchant ties in the group. That simplified things. Besides, if there were, they wouldn't be rubbing shoulders with the Merchant King's son. Hwiju merchants and Shanxi merchants were fierce rivals.
"So what's the deal with the Shanxi merchants?"
"They're coming to the Eui-chang market to sell salt."
I caught Yeo Hong-yang's expression shift in an instant. The others missed it, but I'd been keeping an eye on him.
"So? Shanxi merchants peddling salt down south is nothing new."
"It's a dump job. On the southerners."
My bombshell made Jeon O-su and the rest gape. Not earth-shattering stuff—merchants screwing each other over was more common than you'd think. In a way, that was the real skill.
"What're you talking about?"
But that didn't make it any less infuriating. Merchants stuck together by region and culture—that's why you had "Shanxi merchants" and "Hwiju merchants."
When outsiders schemed to fleece your turf, you rolled up your sleeves.
"Hold up. Talk to me alone."
Surprisingly, it was Yeo Hong-yang who spoke up.
Everyone here already knew he was the Merchant King's son, so no one batted an eye.
No merchant family could match the wealth and scale of Yeo Clan, one of Hwiju's fifteen powerhouse houses. He had every right to pull me aside for a private chat.
Yeo Hong-yang dragged me into the lay disciples' building.
"How'd you know?"
He shut the door and cut straight to it.
"Figured you knew."
"Of course. I'm head of one of our caravans' halls. Couldn't miss this."
"The abolition of the salt monopoly, right?"
I struck first, and his eyes lit up. Back at the Three Purities Hall, he'd seemed so timid—it was all an act. No way the Merchant King's son was raised soft. Yeo Hong-yang cocked his head.
"Impressive. You're a farmer's kid, right? How'd you get wind of that? Even Beijing officials barely know."
"A merchant's weapon isn't a blade or sweet talk. It's secrets."
He let out a dry chuckle. Straight out of his father Yeo Bul-jin's playbook—hilarious hearing it from me, the guy who'd heard it a thousand times.
That line on asymmetric info had shaped me too; I was just quoting.
"Anyway, don't Hwiju merchants have a duty to counter Shanxi merchants backstabbing the south?"
"Can't do that."
"Why not?"
"The elders already cut a deal. Hwiju turns a blind eye to their salt profits."
"I see."
"You buy that quick?"
"They're getting something in return. Like turning a blind eye to smuggling."
The central plains had a maritime ban—no sea trade allowed. Yet southeastern coastal merchants snuck out anyway, chasing insane profits. Hwiju spanned Zhejiang's coast, raking it in from smuggling.
Yeo Hong-yang's face flipped again—from curious probe to utter bewilderment.
"...You even know that? That's from a pact between Shanxi's Four Families and Hwiju's Fifteen Clans."
I'd recalled the smuggling boom around then and tossed it out—turns out it was spot on.
But I wouldn't chalk it to luck. Turning luck into skill was skill.
"I'm a guy with a lot of secrets."
"From Hwiju Fifteen Clans or Shanxi Four Families?"
"What good's knowing that?"
"If it's leaking from Hwiju, it'll keep leaking. If you're tied to them and spill, I'll pay you enough to coast for ten years."
His face was dead serious. Straight-up asking me to snitch. Made sense—plugging info leaks was merchant 101.
I could only shrug. No way a nobody like me was linked to Hwiju Fifteen.
"Not telling."
"Fair enough. Was gonna offer ten thousand silver taels."
"...Really?"
Tempting lie material—seed money for my merchant future. But no dice. If I was going merchant, I couldn't afford a blacklist from either side.
"Still can't spill."
"Principled, huh. Or loaded. You're fun."
Yeo Hong-yang didn't press. Classic Hwiju style—clean and crisp, past or present.
"Anyway, that's why Hwiju merchants are sitting out the Eui-chang market."
"Letting other merchants take the hit?"
"Someone gains, someone loses. Natural order."
Merchants were ice-cold. Yeo Hong-yang had the chops—Merchant King's blood, after all.
"So why ask? What's your angle in messing with Shanxi merchants?"
I laid it out plain. No point hiding.
Wudang's sect leader had ordered me to snag salt cheap, pre-monopoly abolition. Yeo Hong-yang listened, lips twitching, then burst out laughing.
"Haha! You're a riot. Defying the sect leader? Ballsy."
"Didn't expect him to go that far."
"Heh, yeah. I'd have flopped right there, claimed I couldn't. Lay disciple or not, he wouldn't kill me."
"Maybe I should've."
"But you're scheming here, so you found a workaround."
"Gonna try. But if Hwiju won't help, why bother hearing me out?"
"They'll blab to me anyway. Spill it."
True enough. I summed up my plan. He listened, pursed his lower lip, and nodded—like a hall head approving a pitch.
"Wanna see if it works. Worth a shot."
Had to be. Decades of merchant savvy—small-time ploy like this was child's play.
I stepped out with Yeo Hong-yang. Jeon O-su and the kids were still there, dying of curiosity.
But I couldn't share the strategy yet. Sa Gong-hyeon's crew had wormed in.
"Joining the Eui-chang market? Gotta hear this. Victory Thunder Sect took a guard gig too."
Victory Thunder Sect—another orthodox outfit in Hubei. Not just big shots like Shanxi merchants; mid-tier traders hired mid-tier sects. Hadn't clocked that.
"Not your trip—why care?"
"My sect's business. What's the scheme?"
Couldn't tell Sa Gong-hyeon. He hated my guts, and word getting out I'd cooked this up would paint a target from Shanxi merchants.
The merchant kids here would join in, so safe from them—but Victory Thunder wasn't merchant blood. They'd blab.
"Don't wanna say."
"Problem. I'll warn everyone at the market to watch you. Shady schemer."
"Childish."
But effective. People got wary on hearsay alone.
No biggie overall—I wasn't executing personally, just the brains. Still annoying.
"Mind backing off? This is merchant talk."
My line, but Yeo Hong-yang delivered it. Sa Gong-hyeon's face hardened.
"Merchant King's son acting high and mighty. Why should I listen?"
"'Cause I said so."
Arrogant, casual—like it was obvious. Suited him perfectly.
"Want me to pull Victory Thunder's plaque?"
Yeo Hong-yang's icy face loomed close. That gaunt, timid look turned sharp and ruthless. Aura mattered.
Sa Gong-hyeon froze, speechless. He'd win a fight, but Yeo Hong-yang's weapon wasn't fists.
Sa Gong-hyeon paled, backpedaled, then bolted. His crew didn't chase.
He'd just proven he couldn't lead by running. Real boss here? Yeo Hong-yang.
Sa Gong-hyeon's options: slink away quietly or grind through lay disciple training as an outcast. Neither easy. Not my problem.
"Hoo. Hoo. Thought I was dead."
Meanwhile, Yeo Hong-yang clutched his chest, panting. Knowing his true colors, pure theater. Smart play—Merchant King's son shining too bright hurt Wudang and him alike.
I laid out the strategy to the merchant heirs. Their eyes gleamed.
We tweaked details and agreed to share intel ongoing. Jeon O-su as rep, naturally.
"Sounds fun."
Jeon O-su summed it up.
"It will be."
I replied.
Days passed after the plan locked in. Market day in Eui-chang.
Oh, and Sa Gong-hyeon quit soon after Yeo Hong-yang crushed his face—lost all standing.