67. I Always Cherish You (5)
“That friend of yours has a scarier side than I expected.”
“You’re telling me. This is the first time I’ve seen it too.”
Wang Song and Ye Hyeong-seong clicked their tongues in unison. The sight Muk Hwi-yeong had shown at the end was utterly unlike his usual self. Yet they could tell it wasn’t some hasty act—it was a fully formed aspect of him that had been there all along. It was that polished and natural.
“Impressive stuff. It’s not easy to have that many facets at his age. You usually need a ton of experience to develop such multidimensional traits.”
“Exactly. Being cold when cold and warm when warm—that’s no simple feat.”
“I’ve met quite a few folks called great merchants, and they all had one thing in common. Know what it was?”
“Please, tell me.”
“Their warm sides varied from person to person, but their cold sides? All cut from the same cloth. Especially when someone tries to take what’s theirs—they turn the most rational and ruthless.”
“Is that so? You’d think merchants would get heated when their goods are snatched away.”
“That’s what sets them apart from ordinary traders. Didn’t you see it earlier? No matter how much I prodded, he just smiled and brushed it off. A true great merchant isn’t enslaved by money.”
“You’re comparing the young head of Hwi-yeong Merchant Group to those titans? He’s barely been in business for half a year.”
“That’s what makes it hilarious. It’s why I came here myself.”
Wang Song grinned. Ye Hyeong-seong nodded. When he’d risen to fame healing the common folk as Hebei’s Divine Physician, they’d pegged him as just a compassionate lay disciple of Wudang. Then he suddenly started a merchant group and became a trader, and now he was showing this ruthless merchant side. No denying it—he was a fascinating figure.
“Anyway, get the Minister of Justice ready. If we follow that kid’s plan, you’ll have your hands full.”
“Understood.”
The proposal Muk Hwi-yeong had laid out was far more radical and bold than what Wang Song had suggested. Ye Hyeong-seong sighed inwardly. How did something meant to help the people escalate like this? A storm was about to hit the long-quiet Hebei Provincial Governor’s Office.
The very next day, Wang Song revealed his identity as the Censorate’s Right Deputy Censor and marched into the Hebei Provincial Governor’s Office. His mission: an audit for corruption.
The eunuchs scattered from Hwi-yeong Merchant Group like the tide going out. But business couldn’t resume just yet—the search warrant was still officially in effect.
Still, with those thorns in their side gone from the premises, everyone felt a weight lift.
Even the folks I’d given paid leave to started trickling back one by one to help sort the paperwork. It was too much for Jo Chung-heon to handle alone after the mess they’d made. From my position, no reason to stop volunteers. Grateful, sure—but probably that top-tier salary was the real motivator.
“Incredible, Head.”
“What is?”
“Pulling in a Censorate Right Deputy Censor, no less. As expected, you don’t just sit back and take it.”
I just flashed a grin. Jo Chung-heon’s eyes now held not just admiration, but outright respect.
“Hebei’s in an uproar. It’s rare for the Censorate to openly target a high official like this. Word is Hwi-yeong Merchant Group’s backing them.”
“Guess so.”
To be precise, we were just scratching each other’s itches. But to the public, it looked like the Censorate was riding on our coattails. Not a bad look.
“You must’ve made connections back when you were Hebei’s Divine Physician.”
“Yep.”
“I was shocked. If I’d known you had Censorate ties, I wouldn’t have worried so much.”
“Haha, sorry for not mentioning it sooner.”
“Made our branch look like fools. Everyone in Wunan knows the Ministry of Revenue Vice Minister ordered the search on Hwi-yeong Merchant Group.”
Jo Chung-heon was practically buzzing with excitement, blabbing away. It wasn’t just him—the whole merchant group was abuzz with the topic.
The Censorate Right Deputy Censor had publicly declared he was auditing the Ministry of Revenue Vice Minister for corruption. Normally, censors handled high officials’ misdeeds quietly to keep relations with provincial offices smooth, or at least backed big noise with ironclad proof to avoid rumors.
But this? No proof presented, and they’d named the target from the start, setting tongues wagging among the masses. Shame enough to make the Vice Minister and Hebei Provincial Governor’s Office squirm.
Jo Chung-heon’s enthusiasm dimmed slightly.
“But what now? If the Censorate tears the provincial office apart, won’t it make business tough in Wunan later?”
“We’ll see when the time comes.”
I’d passed that concern to Wang Song already. Not my wheelhouse. Up to him and the Wunan Provincial Governor to align.
Wang Song was going full berserk, just as I’d suggested. A Censorate man strutting like this? Local officials and central bureaucrats overseeing the provinces alike must be dying inside.
Word was, the Navy Commander alumnus overseeing Hebei had repeatedly tried to meet the Right Deputy Censor but got stonewalled. I hadn’t even mentioned that, but Wang Song—true to his third-rank status—was playing it masterfully.
He knew rattling Yi Hwan wasn’t about meeting and pressuring—it was about denying the meeting altogether.
“No more eunuchs dropping by, so normalize operations. Carefully, though. It’s not over yet.”
“Got it.”
Jo Chung-heon replied brightly. Restarting the stalled merchant group for a month straight? Gotta be fun.
“And hand over the staffing report and revised org chart.”
“Right here.”
Jo Chung-heon passed them over. Amid sorting the eunuchs’ two-week wreckage, he’d somehow found time to finish. I headed to the head office and dove in.
“As expected.”
I was impressed. Spotless—no notes needed. Pros do pro work.
Justifications for new hires, added costs—all laid out clearly. Revised org chart fully backed; had to nod along.
“That comes to…”
I tried mental math, then pulled out the abacus for the big number.
Good data processed into intel by subordinates? Leader’s job to aggregate and set direction. I factored in building leases/purchases, severance for temp servants, provincial taxes, partial repayments to lay disciples—it all added up.
“Quite the sum.”
Over three thousand taels of silver. Putting the abacus away, I realized I’d skipped performance bonuses—back to calculating.
“Roughly three thousand five hundred taels.”
My personal funds: about one thousand three hundred taels. Bitter pill that it’s slim pickings compared to earnings, but necessary investment for growth.
I rose, desk in hand, and headed to the vault. One thousand three hundred taels—not much for me, but a back-breaking load to carry.
“Silver’s scent never gets old.”
I spread my arms, bathing in it. Better than forest air—money therapy. Deep breaths amid wealth mends body and soul like nothing else.
“Time to spend.”
Gold bath done, I clapped. With the sound, the long-absent Mujawon Shop flickered into view above my eyes.
Yi Hwan slouched coldly in his chair. Before him, Ministry of Revenue Vice Minister Jin Mu-byeok knelt awkwardly, face tense—posture unfit for his rank.
“What the hell happened?”
“I didn’t expect the Censorate to go this far.”
Navy Commander alumnus ranked third-grade centrally; provincial Vice Minister was fourth. Vast gap, yet Jin bowed without hesitation. The alumnus post wielded power beyond rank.
“You never mentioned knowing the Censorate Right Deputy Censor.”
“Just met him once as Hebei’s Divine Physician. He seemed favorable then, but not enough to drag him down from Beijing like this.”
“Hah.”
Yi Hwan’s fine brow furrowed. Jin swallowed hard. To him, the alumnus was Hebei’s strongest connection. Yet they’d pulled the Censorate? Jin’s teeth ground.
“That filthy merchant scum…”
Jin had felt a twinge of regret at first. Backed by Wunan Merchant Association and Zhuge Clan, he’d had no choice but to pressure Hwi-yeong. But now? He genuinely wanted Muk Hwi-yeong drowned.
Yi Hwan fanned himself.
“This is graver than it seems. Hebei’s Divine Physician isn’t just some peasant. He’s got real support in Wunan. Fine when suspected as a demonic spy, but without evidence, his words regain weight.”
“Agreed. Alone, he’d be nothing—but the Censorate’s backing him now.”
“You get it.”
“One way out.”
“What?”
“Kill Muk Hwi-yeong.”
Yi Hwan’s eyes narrowed. Hatred blazed uncontrollably in Jin’s.
“Alumni can handle it quietly. Suspicion lingers, but without his mouth, the Censorate’s rampage weakens. They won’t burn bridges with alumni and the provincial office over one peasant.”
Yi Hwan pondered, then smiled deeply. Come to think, it was core alumnus work.
“First idea I’ve liked in ages.”
“Good. Kill him before they escalate.”
Yi Hwan smiled at Jin’s gleaming eyes. Jin thought killing Muk solved everything. But Jin’s corruption was separate. The Censorate wouldn’t bite without cause.
High officials who postured intellectually always lost reason when their necks were on the line, revealing true colors. A rare thrill for an alumnus.
“Shall we?”
“Now?”
“Best to cut the horn while it’s soft. Surveillance is still in place.”
Jin smiled in relief. Yi Hwan smiled back. Disliked the man, but they were in the same boat.
Yi Hwan donned black night clothes and a bamboo hat—standard for alumnus hits. He waited for night. Muk had no Wunan residence, sleeping in the warehouse. Midnight: defenseless.
Leaping walls and roofs felt refreshing after so long. Yi Hwan soon reached Hwi-yeong’s warehouse.
No guards. Forest bandit style sold off, escorts pulled. Even if present, no stopping an alumnus assassin.
Yi Hwan stepped lightly with silver toe shoes, senses cautiously extended. One steady, unmoving presence locked on.
Quietly peeling the roof, he slipped along the ridge beam. Could’ve used the door, but wanted that assassin vibe.
One thrust through the ceiling with a flying dagger, done. Yi Hwan tiptoed on toes. A rat scurried by; he didn’t flinch.
‘Don’t get cocky,’ he thought, pitying Muk for ignoring Jin’s advice. He reached above the sleep chamber.
“Farewell.”
Yi Hwan’s dagger, laced with sharp qi, pierced silently. Only the thunk into floorboards.
But instinct screamed wrong. No flesh-rending sound. Yi Hwan peered through the hole.
A dim candle and the lone embedded dagger. His eyes darted in panic.
“Come down.”
Before spotting Muk Hwi-yeong, the voice echoed. Looking over—Muk on the far side, smiling up at the hole.