20. Market (3)
Thankfully, the city hall and dye house were side by side in the center of the market, so they were easy to find. Just as the city official had said, the area in front of the dye house run by the Shanxi merchants was pure chaos.
"You bastards! Who the hell put you up to this?!"
"What do you mean 'put up to'? We're just doing our jobs."
"No, even if you're giving local merchants more leeway, there's a limit! A limit!"
The local merchants were handling things exactly as I'd anticipated. Their role was simple: squeeze the out-of-town Shanxi merchants right back. Sticking it to visiting traders was a time-honored tradition among the locals. Push it too far, though, and even the Shanxi folks wouldn't be able to sell a thing.
But you can't cover the sky with the palm of your hand. No matter how hard the locals tried to block them, it was frustrating not just for the Shanxi merchants but for the customers too. In the end, the locals' blockade was just a temporary patch on a volcano ready to erupt.
"Get all these bastards out of here!"
In the end, the Shanxi merchants had hired guards from the city armory and mobilized them.
They'd already hired Wudang warriors, but they probably couldn't ask those people to chase off government officials. High-nosed, lofty types like Wudang disciples wouldn't do it—better to bring in men who worked for coin, no questions asked.
"You sons of bitches!"
"Let go!"
"Scram if you don't wanna die!"
The men hired by the Shanxi merchants shoved aside the obstructive locals without mercy. They didn't hesitate to threaten the city officials either. Cheong-su frowned at the sight.
"Black Dao Alliance folks?"
"No. Orthodox faction."
They knew full well that city officials could be bought off with money. Sure, the officials and locals held sway in the market, but step outside those bounds, and they were just lowly bureaucrats.
"How can you be so sure they're orthodox?"
"Familiar faces."
I'd expected to run into them eventually while wandering the market, but not this soon. Among them was Sa Gong-hyeon, who'd left the city hall just a few days ago. The ones scrapping with the locals now were from Seungroe Gate.
The Mingja division warriors dispatched as escorts watched from the back with ambiguous expressions, torn between intervening or staying out.
Once outside Wudang's walls, their actions carried heavy restrictions. They represented the sect itself.
Which meant they couldn't pick meaningless street fights without justification. Cheong-su felt the same awkwardness.
As we stood watching, someone from the Shanxi side spotted the officials and came storming over.
"Honored officials, why are you interfering with our business?"
"What nonsense is this?"
"You're having the locals sabotage our stalls. What kind of stunt is that? Do you want the Shanxi merchants never to return to the armory?"
"As if. I have no idea what you're talking about. You think insulting imperial officials without proof will get you anywhere?"
The official was shameless as ever. Without evidence, he couldn't push the slander further.
"You think we have nowhere else to go but the armory? This won't end well."
"Threats now, is it? Unbelievable."
The official parried as best he could, but even he seemed reluctant to escalate. No matter how baseless the accusations, the situation was too blatant—and if the Shanxi merchants boycotted the armory over one official, it'd blow up into a major issue.
The Shanxi merchants growled threats while the locals were shoved aside by Seungroe Gate. It was only the second day.
In this mess, I was the only one who could step up. I wasn't even wearing Wudang's blue robes—those were reserved for temple disciples. That's why people kept mistaking me for a servant.
"Alright, everyone, that's enough!"
I bellowed with all the lung power of a seasoned merchant, and the crowd froze, turning to stare.
Only then did Sa Gong-hyeon, wedged among the Seungroe Gate men, clock me and narrow his eyes like axes.
"And who the hell are you?"
The Seungroe Gate thugs—each a shoulder broader than me—glared down threateningly.
"That guy's a Wudang lay disciple."
Sa Gong-hyeon was the one who'd outed me. Kang Jeon, the Shanxi merchant I'd met before, leaped forward.
"It's you. You're the one stirring this up."
Kang Jeon was no slouch as a merchant either. He'd pieced it together just from the scene.
"You declared cheap prices, then ran whining to the officials? Talking about abolishing the middleman law?"
"Whining? Crude choice of words."
"Honored official, what makes you trust this kid so much? He's just a Wudang servant boy."
Of course, I couldn't convince them alone, so I'd leveraged Wudang's name. From Kang Jeon's clueless perspective, it must've been maddening.
"I'd ask the master of Gakjeon Pavilion too. Is this Wudang's official stance toward the Shanxi merchants?"
"No. I'm a Wudang lay disciple, but also just a merchant. I acted on my own to uphold merchant justice—nothing to do with the sect."
Cheong-su hesitated, so I drew the line first.
"If anything, I'd ask the Shanxi merchants this: You worship Lord Guan and prize loyalty. They say pursue profit through righteousness. So why use Beijing intel to gouge us here?"
My blunt words flushed their faces red.
"Guests from Shanxi Province, don't get suckered by that punk's talk. With the officials here, isn't there a standard way to settle merchant disputes like this?"
Sa Gong-hyeon shouted. The Shanxi faces brightened; the official's twisted in dismay.
"You mean a proxy battle?"
"Exactly."
Not every conflict has clear good guys and villains, victims and perps. Market squabbles often boiled down to clashing perspectives—like right now.
Sorting that out took forever, which neither the understaffed officials nor time-is-money merchants wanted.
Enter the proxy battle. Merchants always traveled with escorts, so pit those against each other.
It was basically "settle it with cash"—the richer side hires better muscle.
"Brilliant idea. If he's acting as a merchant, not a Wudang disciple, then your Daoists can't intervene."
The Shanxi merchants chimed in, wary I'd call in Wudang guards.
But Wudang warriors weren't the type for street brawls anyway. Sect honor trumped personal pride.
"Got anyone in mind?"
Cheong-su whispered, worried since he couldn't fight himself.
I nodded slightly. Relief washed over his face.
"I don't have escorts to send, so I'll proxy myself. That alright, honored official?"
The official panicked. The Shanxi side gaped. A merchant fighting proxy?
"...You sure?"
"Yes. You've held them off great so far. Now it's our turn."
"Not that—how do you plan to face warriors? These aren't street toughs. Martial artists shatter bones with a punch, dislocate jaws with a kick."
The official fretted, but the Shanxi men crowed, figuring I'd lose for sure.
"Once named for proxy, no backing out."
"Then Seungroe Gate, name your man."
The official relented. Sa Gong-hyeon jumped in eagerly.
"Even as a Wudang lay disciple, he's got no real training, shallow inner power. Anyone beats him. I could."
Sa Gong-hyeon itched to jump in. Last time, if Cheong-hwa hadn't stopped us, I'd have lost.
"We have Seungroe Gate's honor. Can't have the branch leader fighting a merchant."
The burliest Seungroe man stepped up—wielding a massive sword as wide as my forearm. Sa Gong-hyeon and the Shanxi men lit up.
"The leader himself?"
"We took their coin. Gotta earn it."
He loomed opposite me, a head taller, pure intimidation.
"We name Seungroe Gate's Great Hero Hong Mun-hak."
A Shanxi merchant declared it. As branch leader, he was second only to the gate lord—likely stronger than Sa Gong-hyeon in martial arts. Blood got Sa Gong-hyeon his spot; skill earned this man's.
"Proxy fighters set."
The official intoned gravely.
"Losers yield unconditionally on the dispute. Shanxi merchants can't chase off the locals."
"And if we win, we chase 'em off and deal direct?"
"Naturally."
Proxy rules were simple: fight until one can't.
Hong Mun-hak cracked his knuckles.
"Wudang lay disciple, huh?"
He sneered down imperiously, victory a foregone conclusion in his eyes.
"No weapon?"
"Haven't learned swordsmanship yet."
"Fists against me, then?"
"Yep. And shut up already."
"Outrageous. Even a layman from Wudang—a mere merchant daring to fight a warrior without fear."
"That's for you to worry about. If you think you can win, do it."
"What gives you that confidence?"
Wudang men tensed; Seungroe crowed like they'd won.
"Begin."
Hong Mun-hak lunged. Huge, but fast—like a cannonball hurtling at me.
But I can see it.
My footwork had crossed into warrior territory.
Fastest I'd faced. But my body was lighter now.
More flexible, qi surging fiercer through my meridians. Thanks to the Body Forging Acupoint training. The more I did it, the more my frame suited martial arts—footwork flowed easier.
"Oh!"
I twisted at the waist to dodge his fist; the crowd gasped. They'd expected me flattened instantly.
Hong Mun-hak flushed red. He'd skipped his sword, sure of an easy win—didn't expect a clean evade.
I bent back further, kicked off the ground, spun midair, and landed behind him.
"You should've taken that punch."
He drew his broadsword. I tensed harder.
He kicked off and soared. Wind pressure hit first.
Most figured I'd dodge. I didn't. Dragging it out meant just running—couldn't win that way. Cheong-hwa had taught me that.
The massive blade arced down. Upright would count as lethal, instant DQ. But the wide sweep was tricky.
My movements outpaced his. He hadn't used footwork, aiming for quick kill. I couldn't miss this.
Before, I'd waste chances. Now, with my toughened body, I could seize them.
I clenched my fist and launched skyward after him. His eyes bulged.
"You bastard!"
He took it as insult, voice furious. The blade shadowed my brow.
Midair, I twisted acrobatically, thrusting my fist before it grazed my hair.
Straight for his wrist. Before, it'd do nothing—but now, my hardened body could disrupt at least.
I'd punched rocks pain-free post-training.
The blade whistled past my waist by a hair; my fist smashed his wrist. A heavy, electric jolt shuddered through me.
His swing veered; pain twisted his face.
That's my opening—the gap from his arrogance. Once, I'd miss it. Not now.
My fist zeroed on the tough spot between jaw and ear base. I unleashed, body snapping like a spring.
Thwack!
Like an egg shattering on a wall—my knuckles nailed the mark behind his jaw.
"Gah!"
He plummeted, tumbling ugly. I spun to land, knife-hand to his throat before he recovered.
I couldn't hit acupoints yet, but if this were a dagger... he'd be dead.
Hong Mun-hak sprawled; my hand hovered at his neck. Clear victory.
"...Proxy battle to Young Master Muk Hwi-yeong."
A stunned official's voice broke the hush.
"Woooah!"
Cheers erupted through the market heart, a beat late.