57. I Am a Merchant Group (3)
The people seated in the leader's chamber were a motley crew. The leader of Cheonsabang and his subordinates eyed me warily, Jo Chung-hun looked terrified amid the savage auras of these black dao thugs, and I kept my salesman smile plastered on without a flicker.
"Business, huh. People who talk about business fall into exactly two categories."
"Oh? News to me. Which two?"
"Legitimate merchants... and con artists like you who oil their tongues."
"You calling me a con artist?"
"Your pitch has that vibe, yeah."
Sure enough, Cheonsabang's leader, Gong Du-ho, was on guard against me. That's why he'd lined up these brutish underlings along the walls like a damn honor guard.
"Jumping to conclusions without evidence isn't wise."
"I've got evidence."
"Really?"
"First off, I've never heard of this Hwi-yeong Merchant Group."
"Of course not. It's brand new, and we haven't done any real business yet."
"Don't interrupt... Second—and I hate to say this as the leader—but Cheonsabang isn't exactly an enticing partner for joint ventures."
I widened my eyes in mock shock, as if it were the most outrageous thing I'd ever heard.
"What do you mean? Where else could be more appealing? I came here thinking Cheonsabang was the perfect blood ally for us."
"So it's one or the other. You're either a clueless bumpkin who knows nothing about Wuhuan's underbelly... or a con artist trying to sell flea livers. When hunches overlap, it turns into certainty—and they've overlapped twice already. That con artist vibe."
"That's hurtful. I may not have a big name as a merchant, but I've got the title of Hebei Divine Physician. Plus, I'm a Wudang lay disciple."
"Heard about that. But being the Hebei Divine Physician or a Wudang lay disciple doesn't guarantee you're not a con artist."
"Ouch."
"Honestly, that heroic medical stunt of yours feels kinda fishy too. You and the officials didn't cook it up together, did you?"
"What would I gain from that? What do they get?"
"You could've used the plague to distract everyone and off your political rivals."
"Whoa, wild imagination. Must be exhausting to live with. Is the darkness outside right now some imperial conspiracy too? A formation enveloping the entire Central Plains, maybe?"
At my mocking tone, one of the men beside me half-drew his sword.
"Watch your mouth around the leader. Back in the day, we wouldn't even waste time on peddlers like you."
"That's exactly why I skipped Black Dragon Gate and came here, isn't it?"
I kept smiling as I spoke. The underling fully drew his blade and pointed it at my face.
"Like I said, that's why I think Cheonsabang has no choice but to be my blood ally. A rootless new merchant group with nowhere to lean... and a black dao faction that's lost its dominance. Aren't we both craving a shake-up in Wuhuan's market scene?"
My words made the Cheonsabang folks flinch. It was a point even they couldn't dismiss outright.
"Makes sense when you put it that way. Just cut the fancy talk from now on. I'm black dao— not the sharpest tool in the shed. And I've got this bad habit of letting my hands move first."
Gong Du-ho growled, but after I'd pierced his defenses once, he wasn't quite as ferocious as before.
"I'll be careful from now on."
"Good."
"And Leader, you be careful too."
"...What?"
"I'm not here to become one of your underlings. I'm here to go into business together."
I said it with the same unflagging smile. His men looked ready to explode, but Gong Du-ho raised a hand.
"Can't argue with that. Whether you're a con artist remains to be seen, but this business pitch is worth hearing out."
"Much appreciated."
"Still strikes me as odd, though. Normal lay disciples wouldn't dream of doing business with black dao, even if they started a merchant group—they'd watch their sect's back."
"Normal, sure. I'm not normal."
Gong Du-ho let out a hollow chuckle at my quip. He turned to the underling who'd drawn the sword earlier.
"Bring some liquor. Can't talk business without it."
"Yes, sir."
"And the rest of you, out."
Gong Du-ho shooed away all the underlings he'd summoned. As someone who'd made his bones in this turf, he knew exactly when to play tough and when to ease up.
Soon, liquor and cups arrived, leaving just me, Gong Du-ho, and Jo Chung-hun in the chamber.
"Alright. What kind of business?"
"Like I said, Hwi-yeong Merchant Group has no backing. Modest capital, thin connections."
"Hebei Divine Physician should've got you some official ties, no?"
"You don't touch official connections lightly. They could swallow a merchant group whole."
Gong Du-ho let out a short whistle at my words.
"Deep insights for a newbie merchant leader."
I just smiled. In terms of merchant savvy and experience, few in the Central Plains could match me. I hadn't helmed a major merchant group for nothing in my past life.
"So, peddling it is. No capital for shops, no connections for suppliers."
"Oh."
This time, I whistled. They'd held their own against Black Dragon Gate before, and it wasn't empty talk. Black dao folk, but they knew the merchant world's gritty underside cold.
"We speak the same language."
"Heh, like minds."
I buttered him up a bit, and Gong Du-ho barked a laugh. The wariness had largely evaporated.
With guards down, cups clinked several times. Gong Du-ho poured for me and Jo Chung-hun; I poured for him. Cheonsabang wasn't flush, so it was cheap fire wine, but dealing with black dao was always like this.
Anyway, with Gong Du-ho on the same wavelength, explanations shortened nicely.
Peddling meant roaming streets with portable stalls. Laymen might not know, but streets have territories and bosses—usually black dao.
To peddle, you paid stall fees to the local gang. I'd sought legitimate distributors to avoid black dao entanglements, but with the Zhuge clan's roadblock, I had one path left.
"Here for stall fees, then?"
"If so, why bring yourself? Too paltry for 'business.'"
"Fair."
"I'm here to contract with Cheonsabang."
"What kind?"
"I'll hire every black dao faction under Cheonsabang's influence as peddlers."
"Cough!"
Gong Du-ho spat liquor at my ambush pitch. A stinking spray of booze and spit hit my face, but my smile didn't waver. Jo Chung-hun whipped out a handkerchief to wipe me down.
"Cough, ahem. Sorry. Caught me off guard."
"No harm done."
A true merchant keeps smiling through halitosis that could curdle milk. I'd taken direct spits before; this was nothing.
"Hiring black dao as peddlers?"
"Yes. Use Cheonsabang as a labor agency. One silver tael per head."
"...Heh. Dealt with plenty of merchants, but this is new. Trust those hotheads with sales?"
"That's why the contract with Cheonsabang. You handle any labor issues, naturally. We supply goods; they sell. You manage the manpower."
"Got it."
Gong Du-ho nodded easily. Pull in one guy, pocket a tael commission—bare minimum service for that.
Using black dao as peddlers. A ploy from my past life's Hwi-yeong Merchant Group, debuting twenty years early this time.
Peddling normally cost twice: wages for peddlers, fees to black dao. This merged them into one.
Early days had hiccups—black dao ignored orders, pilfered goods. But handing mid-level oversight to black dao solved most.
I took it further: Cheonsabang as the agency. Rooted locally, they'd have ties to beggars' clans and other gangs. More they recruited, more they earned.
"Impressive business acumen. Can't call you a con anymore."
"Haven't shown my full hand yet. You'll be amazed."
I had Jo Chung-hun draft the contract on the spot.
Hwi-yeong Merchant Group and Cheonsabang Contract.
Cheonsabang provides manpower and stall spots for peddling to Hwi-yeong Merchant Group.
Hwi-yeong Merchant Group pays Cheonsabang commissions per recruit.
Cheonsabang handles manpower management.
Hwi-yeong Merchant Group handles finances.
Rough clauses like that. Black dao were mostly illiterate thugs, so we'd manage all accounting anyway.
Gonna need more servants and clerks.
Currently: two servants, one clerk, one overseer. Depending on Cheonsabang's pull, we'd need more.
They'd manage labor, but we'd need staff to verify sales. Not just Wuhuan—elsewhere too.
"Clean contract. Rolled with a major group before?"
"Rolled plenty."
"Figures. Folks starting from the bottom are built different."
Gong Du-ho sounded pleased. From frosty start to warm finish. He got drunker than me, ready to swear blood brotherhood. Made sense—I'd delivered a rare moneymaking shot, like a divine messenger.
Underlings, clueless about our chat, gawked at me and the leader in confusion.
"Urk—bleeeech."
Outside Cheonsabang, I patted Jo Chung-hun's back. He'd held his liquor merchant-style, but couldn't outdrink a black dao boss and me. Among traders, drinking capacity equaled skill. Jo Chung-hun wasn't a finished merchant yet.
Hwi-yeong Merchant Group intertwined tightly with Cheonsabang, recruiting peddlers to sell Green Forest Twelve Forms come spring. My remaining 300 taels were long gone; I'd borrowed more from Dongho Merchant Association.
Cheonsabang hustled hard, tasting profit after ages. We targeted Hebei, Hunan, Jiangxi, Anhui—four provinces at once. Massive gamble for a debut, but I had confidence.
Two months passed. Spring arrived.
The moment bandits, expelled from Green Forest Stronghold, swarmed down as brigands to raid villages.