Chapter 75: The Fist King Appears as the Merchant Alliance Leader (1)
The Fist King Appears as the Merchant Alliance Leader (1)
Chapter 75: The Fist King Appears as the Merchant Alliance Leader (1)
Since resolving to correct his flaws, Dan Woo-sung had stopped dreaming—or at least, the dreams he did have were either meaningless or featured Baek Yak.
As a result, his complexion had noticeably improved.
Even during training or martial duels, he deliberately held back his strength.
Before relying on brute force, he constantly recalled the evasive movements of the previous world's strongest martial artist.
It began as mere imitation, but Dan Woo-sung soon made the techniques his own.
This was a different kind of training—not about learning new skills or accumulating internal energy, but refining what he already had.
He stripped away every unnecessary movement from his fighting style.
Where he once struck with tenfold force, he now used only one or two. He even began considering the situation before deciding whether to expend his internal energy.
The once brutally straightforward nature of his combat had shifted into something fluid and adaptable, responding to the flow of battle.
He continued training, surrendering himself to this new rhythm.
Sixty days later.
The first person to notice the change was none other than Baek Yak.
The Silver River Merchant Group had prepared accommodations, and Baek Yak's entire entourage had moved in. From her perspective, having a master like Dan Woo-sung to spar with freely was invaluable—there was no reason to refuse.
Her guards, too, had begun exchanging martial duels with the Silver River Merchant Group's escort team, making their days far less tedious.
Sitting in the training hall, Baek Yak adjusted her uniform and spoke.
"Brother, your combat movements have become much smoother."
Their manner of speech had grown more casual over time.
Since Dan Woo-sung couldn't explain the bizarre dreams he'd had, he credited Baek Yak for his improvement.
"It's thanks to you."
Baek Yak shook her head.
"No. Sparring with you has only gotten harder. It feels like you've changed your entire strategic approach. Either way, since I'm the one struggling more, it must be good for you."
"I did rethink some things, but adapting alone would've been difficult. Having you here helped—"
Realizing how embarrassingly sentimental that sounded, Dan Woo-sung abruptly cut himself off.
Baek Yak tilted her head.
"What's that enormous carriage outside? Do we have guests?"
"It's from the Taihu Merchant Group. I need to go—they've asked for help with something."
"Should I come with you?"
Dan Woo-sung shook his head.
"Let's call it a break for both of us. Even warriors need rest."
Baek Yak's response was characteristically simple.
"Have a safe trip."
She wasn't the type to say things like Don't worry about the Silver River Merchant Group. Dan Woo-sung chuckled despite himself. Their mutual bluntness was oddly comforting.
Baek Yak blinked.
"Why are you laughing?"
"No reason."
Dan Woo-sung boarded the carriage.
The Taihu Merchant Group had sent only two men—a messenger and his guard. After delivering their regards to Merchant Group Leader Lee Seong-min, they explained the gravity of their request.
The Taihu Merchant Group was one of the largest in the world, dominating trade along the Taeho River from Angyeong to Hwahyeon. They monopolized shipping, riverside inns, restaurants, and even entertainment—anything legal, they controlled.
Naturally, such influence attracted martial sects looking to exploit them.
Until now, they'd avoided trouble thanks to Silver Brush Master, a renowned martial artist who had been their guest for over a decade—practically family.
But disaster had struck.
Silver Brush Master had vanished without a trace.
A shipment-laden vessel sank mysteriously downstream, and suddenly, creditors appeared demanding impossible sums in compensation.
The Taihu Merchant Group's leader, recognizing these as deliberate attacks, had turned to the Merchant Alliance's leader for aid.
This was the same man who had gifted Dan Woo-sung the Supreme Elixir without conditions.
Without hesitation, Dan Woo-sung accepted the request and boarded the carriage. Leaning back, he watched the scenery pass in silence as they traveled toward the Taihu Merchant Group.
As the Alliance Leader, he had no idea what awaited him.
"How could they claim the shipment contained their sect's treasure without notice?"
Even Dan Woo-sung found the story absurd. The martial sect demanding money insisted their sacred artifact had been aboard the sunken ship—and the sum they demanded was staggering.
Kyung Yoon-myung, the elderly leader of the Taihu Merchant Group, paused to sip tea after his long explanation. A white-haired man in his seventies, he seemed more distressed by the disappearance of his lifelong friend Silver Brush Master than the financial loss.
Dan Woo-sung's gaze fell on the weapon resting on the desk.
"Is this Silver Brush Master's weapon?"
Kyung Yoon-myung stroked it mournfully.
"An unusual weapon. He often left it behind—too cumbersome to carry regularly."
It was a pair of gleaming silver Judge's Brushes.
Though shaped like calligraphy brushes, they weren't meant for writing. These were brutal stabbing tools—thick steel awls designed to pierce flesh.
"Was it left in his quarters?"
Kyung Yoon-myung nodded.
"Meaning he didn't go far. He'd leave them behind when stepping out briefly. A man like him rarely needed to fight—his reputation protected him as much as it did our merchant group."
"Which sect is demanding the money?"
"The Thunderbolt Sect. Their leader was abruptly replaced, and they claim they were transporting their sect treasure. Ridiculous."
Dan Woo-sung exhaled.
"I don't have answers yet. I'll resolve this in person."
Kyung Yoon-myung looked apologetic.
"I never imagined I'd need to ask for help. I'd leaned too heavily on Silver Brush Master all these years. The money means nothing—they can have it. But whether he's alive, or if he was ambushed... that's what weighs on me. The lives lost on that ship—people, not coins! That's why I called for aid."
The old man's temper flared as he spoke.
Even in this short exchange, Dan Woo-sung could tell how he'd built such a vast enterprise.
"When does the Thunderbolt Sect return?"
"They come daily. Today's visit already passed—they'll return tomorrow noon or afternoon to threaten us again. Honestly, I don't understand why they're harassing us. It's not fear I feel, but anger."
"If they come daily, they must be staying nearby?"
"I assume so. They said they'd leave once we settled."
Dan Woo-sung nodded.
"Understood."
"The money isn't an issue. Don't worry about that."
"I'll unpack first, then look into Silver Brush Master's whereabouts. I'll take these."
Dan Woo-sung pocketed the twin Judge's Brushes and met Kyung Yoon-myung's gaze.
"At the very least, I'll ensure no more lives are lost."
The unspoken addition hung in the air: Only among our allies, of course.
Dan Woo-sung had never heard of the Thunderbolt Sect.
Nor was he some imperial investigator or magistrate. His presence here was simply to send a message: the Taihu Merchant Group now had him at their side.
After settling in, he questioned locals to pinpoint Silver Brush Master's usual haunts and the Thunderbolt Sect's lodgings.
The fact that no bodies had been recovered would've meant little to most—but not to him.
The Taihu Merchant Group had gifted him the Supreme Elixir. Yet somehow, this felt personal.
Drawing the twin Judge's Brushes, Dan Woo-sung wandered the streets, occasionally clashing them together. Sparks crackled where the weapons met—a testament to their quality.
He stopped at a quiet teahouse called Sojoyadaru and set the brushes on the table as he drank.
No one recognized them. Despite its appearance, the teahouse was filled with elderly men playing board games—no young patrons, no martial artists. The stifling boredom drove Dan Woo-sung out within half an hour.
If Silver Brush Master frequented such a place, he couldn't have been the type to invite grudges.
Which meant foul play was likely.
Next, he headed to Bulchwigak, where the Thunderbolt Sect was staying. With the Judge's Brushes tucked at his waist, he stepped inside—and instantly felt like he'd teleported from a temple into a den of debauchery.
The spacious hall held more women than men, most of them hostesses employed by the establishment. Though their duties seemed different from typical courtesans, they drank with patrons and solicited business all the same.
It was a far cry from the Silver River Merchant Group's refined surroundings.
When fan dancers took the stage, Dan Woo-sung's mood soured further—memories of Jin So-han surfacing unbidden.
Grabbing a waiter, he demanded:
"Where's the Thunderbolt Sect?"
"Who?"
"The Thunderbolt Sect."
"I don't know."
As the waiter tried to leave, Dan Woo-sung yanked him back.
"The sect extorting the Taihu Merchant Group."
Recognition dawned.
"Ah, over there."
The waiter pointed to a group of men clustered on the second-floor balcony, cheering as the fan dancers began disrobing.
Dan Woo-sung muttered,
"Lovely. Just lovely."
Releasing the waiter, he waved him off.
"Got it."
Ascending the stairs, Dan Woo-sung frowned. The atmosphere here was straight out of the underworld. While no specific den was known as the criminal hub, the Taihu Merchant Group's territory clearly operated on a profit-at-any-cost mentality. The sleepy teahouse from earlier had been the anomaly.
Shoving through the crowd, he reached the Thunderbolt Sect members drinking at a corner table.
They ignored his approach entirely, still engrossed in the lewd performance.
The hall remained deafening—shouts, drunken laughter, and cheers blending into chaos.
Dan Woo-sung rapped the table sharply.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The Thunderbolt Sect disciples kept watching the stage. So he drew the Judge's Brushes and slammed them together, channeling a surge of lightning energy.
Crackle—ZZZT!
The sect members whirled around, startled—
—only to freeze at the sight of the twin weapons in Dan Woo-sung's hands.
They knew exactly whose these were.
Dan Woo-sung smirked, twirling the brushes.
"Let's talk."
Unconsciously, he'd slipped into the blunt speech of his past life—and found he didn't care to correct it.