Crisis at the Elder Council
“This is utterly absurd!”
When word reached them that Dang Unhwa had left behind a written pledge forever renouncing any claim to the patriarch’s seat and taken a post as an ordinary researcher in the Innovation Hall, the elders of the Elder Council flew into a collective rage.
“What in blazes is that reckless brat Dang Unhwa thinking?!”
“After all the money we poured into him—and now he flips on us like this…!”
Their fury was understandable.
Objectively speaking, Dang Unhwa had never possessed the makings of a patriarch.
The current Family Head, Dang Un-sang, might be undervalued as the man who had overseen the Dang Family’s long decline, yet that very fact meant he had held the clan together even after its foundations had been ripped out from under it. His actual ability was by no means lacking.
His younger sister, Dang Su-jeong, might be barred from the patriarch’s seat by her sex, yet at only thirty years of age she was already a Peak master and a renowned heroine of the jianghu.
Dang Unhwa, by contrast, had nothing. No administrative talent, no experience running an organization, no martial skill, no reputation, and no money of his own. All he possessed was the bloodline of a former Family Head’s second son.
The elders of the Elder Council had spent a small fortune manufacturing the illusion that such a man was fit to lead. They had paid lavish bribes to forge connections and arrange audiences with officials, then continued sending gifts in Unhwa’s name. They had long falsified reports so that profits from branch-family trading houses and workshops appeared as Unhwa’s personal achievements.
Judged solely by public reputation and paper results, Dang Unhwa had looked quite competent.
And after all that behind-the-scenes labor, he simply discarded everything?
They wanted to chase him down that very moment, stretch him on a rack, and brand his limbs with hot irons until he vomited back every coin they had ever spent on him.
Elder Gong Duchan, who had supplied the largest share of that funding, burned with a particularly spectacular rage.
After a long spell of venting, the elders finally ran short of steam and quieted. As one, their eyes turned to Elder Hong Ilgon, who sat in the seat of honor with his eyes closed.
Gong Duchan asked, “What do you intend to do, Elder Hong?”
“It would be a pity to cast Dang Unhwa aside just yet,” Hong Ilgon replied in a voice of ice. “So we isolate him with intrigue. Outwardly we continue to appear as his staunch supporters. We must also visit him often and keep meeting with him.”
“…I see. A scheme of sowing discord, then?”
“Exactly. The Patriarch’s Residence will not trust Unhwa easily. If we keep meeting him, they will continue to suspect him and push him away. Eventually Unhwa will grasp his true position and have no choice but to come crawling back.”
The elders nodded at a plan built on the simple fact that a man who had long opposed the Patriarch’s Residence would never be welcomed with open arms—yet they did not look entirely satisfied.
“Still, it leaves us looking as though we are the ones chasing after that scoundrel. Hardly a pleasant image.”
“Of course there must be punishment as well. Cut off his allowance.”
The monthly stipend the Elder Council provided Unhwa for “maintaining dignity” was far from small. The man who had worn down the thresholds of every pleasure house and brothel in Sichuan with that money would come running, eyes blazing with outrage, the moment the flow stopped.
Gong Duchan bared his teeth in a grin. “A disobedient dog must be starved. Once his belly starts growling he’ll remember who fills his bowl. An excellent idea.”
“How many days before he comes running?”
“Three at most, wouldn’t you say? Or a week, if last month’s allowance still has a few scraps left.”
Everyone knew how freely Unhwa spent money; they all smiled with the same wicked satisfaction.
“And while we’re at it, let us look among the Dang bloodline for a suitable replacement.”
“A suitable replacement? You mean to discard Unhwa after all?”
“We might. Even if we do not, we still need someone to hold up as a warning.”
“Ah—so we show him that it doesn’t have to be him, is that it?”
“Precisely.”
“Hmm. Useful for keeping him on edge… but elevating a collateral relative who is not of the direct line to patriarch would invite considerable resistance, would it not?”
One elder voiced the doubt carefully. Hong Ilgon fixed him with a cold stare.
“With that sort of attitude, nothing will ever succeed. We are the roots and pillars of the Dang Family. We must demonstrate that whoever the Elder Council supports becomes Family Head.”
“…I misspoke. I fully agree with Elder Hong’s words.”
Cowled by Hong Ilgon’s presence, the elder hastily corrected himself.
“More importantly—what of that brat Dang Hui-yeom? Have we still not uncovered the true nature of Hui-eon Trading Company?”
“I am embarrassed to report that we have not. Every agent under my command is searching, yet not even a shadow has turned up.”
“Mmm… If we could only intercept the coal coming out of Hui-eon Trading Company, we could throw a wrench into half a dozen of that greenhorn Hui-yeom’s enterprises…”
“If the ironworks stop, he cannot produce the reinforced concrete that uses such vast quantities of rebar. His construction projects would grind to a halt. He would miss the delivery deadlines for the Provincial Administration’s contracts—an excellent strategy. That fox of a boy is no fool; he must know it. The fact that Hui-eon Trading Company’s identity remains a complete mystery almost certainly means the Patriarch’s Residence has its hand in the matter.”
They intended to locate Hui-eon Trading Company, negotiate or threaten, and cut off the coal supply. It never occurred to them that Hui-eon Trading Company itself was a ghost company that did not exist. In this era the very concept of a paper company was unknown.
In the end the elders were thrashing about inside the trap Hui-yeom had dug, wasting money, time, and manpower chasing a firm that was never real.
“Elder Yang, put a little more effort into finding that information. And how goes the plan to rattle the cosmetics business?”
“Ha—easier said than done.”
The elder who had been addressed, Yang Jun-hyeok, let out a heavy sigh.
“Demand is so strong that strong-arming small merchants into refusing to sell simply does not work.”
“And counterfeits?”
“No one is willing to try. Last time we recruited a few merchants from Byeokga Village and made the attempt… Outer Hall warriors stormed in within days and slaughtered them all. They used cheap, harmful ingredients, disgraced the Dang Family’s name, and were punished with extreme cruelty—yet the authorities never so much as blinked. Those bastards—after all the bribes we’ve fed them!”
“When have the yamen ever meddled in jianghu affairs? And the Patriarch’s Residence has been pouring no small sum into the officials as well…”
“Ahem!”
Even without the Elder Council’s involvement, merchants had already tried to copy and sell Hogol-go, Three-Day Snow, Beauty Cheek Ink, and Unsmearable Rouge. Without exception they had suffered the Dang Family’s retribution.
Instead of killing the counterfeiters in the traditional martial fashion, the Patriarch’s Residence—acting on Hui-yeom’s suggestion—had chosen a different form of punishment: the branding of dishonor.
Hui-yeom ordered tattoos etched across the merchants’ foreheads and cheeks reading “I forged Dang Family products” or “I tried to sell medicine made from garbage ingredients.” The Outer Hall warriors carried out the sentence to the letter.
The effect far exceeded anything the Patriarch’s Residence had expected. Attempts at counterfeiting, which had never stopped no matter how many men were killed or tortured, simply ceased overnight.
While the Patriarch’s Residence stood baffled by the inexplicable result, Hui-yeom merely chuckled and muttered to himself:
“Dying once taught me something. At the moment of death, a man worries less about dying than about the fact he never deleted the private folder on his PC. People are ruled by social reputation far more than they realize.”
The brand of fraudster proved every bit as effective as an uncleaned “private folder.”
The marked merchants could no longer live anywhere in Sichuan under the pointing fingers of the crowd. Even their own families regarded them with shame. When the family had simply killed the offenders, the survivors nursed grudges against the Dang; now the grudge itself turned against the guilty party.
“Why couldn’t you just do honest business instead of trying to fake Dang medicine?!”
“I can’t live with you anymore! I want a divorce!”
After several merchants were driven out by their wives and fled Sichuan like fugitives, no one again dared to counterfeit Dang cosmetics.
In mounting frustration Hong Ilgon asked, “What about manufacturing public opinion that the cosmetics contain defects?”
“We tried hiring people to claim their skin broke out after using Dang products, but that damned ‘Dang Family Guarantee’ system keeps getting in the way. Even in decline, the Dang Family’s reputation for poisons and medicine remains far too solid.”
“Mmm…”
The Sichuan Dang Family was famed for poison and hidden weapons. The claim that its physicians could not even compound a simple cosmetic without letting poison seep in simply carried no weight. Moreover, after they had recently cured the Emei Sect of cholera, the Dang Family was now praised throughout Sichuan as both the foremost medical house and the most righteous house under heaven.
“People believe that medicine produced by the family most expert in poisons in the entire Central Plains—and the same family that cured cholera—cannot possibly be defective. And even if something does go wrong, the Dang Family Guarantee promises a full refund and free treatment if you simply bring the product to them. So no one believes the rumors. Some fools are even swallowing Tangga Manneung-go by the spoonful as a tonic, claiming that anything from the house that cured an incurable plague must be good for you—and still nothing happens to them. It’s enough to drive a man mad.”
“Urgh…”
In truth, Vaseline had been regarded as a near-universal remedy in the 1960s and 70s. People smeared it on wounds, on aching joints, on numb hands and feet; some even ate it for heartburn—and nothing ever went wrong.
“…What if we approach someone of high rank and claim a noble lady suffered after using it?”
“Those high-ranking ladies are the most enthusiastic customers of all…”
Elder Yang Jun-hyeok sighed as though the earth itself were sinking beneath him.
The products had first spread among the wives of high officials; there was simply no crack to slip through. The Provincial Governor’s principal wife—the highest VIP in all of Sichuan—was an unshakable supporter. Approaching anyone beneath her yielded nothing.
In the end the elders could only shake their heads in hollow defeat.
“He makes so much money we cannot strangle him with debt. He produces every raw material himself. He enjoys absolute local support and the affection of the powerful. How are we supposed to bring such a man down?”
“….”
“….”
After a long silence one elder ventured carefully, “Then… what about simply killing that Hui-yeom brat…?”
“After the chaos last time you still think that? Have you not seen the look in the Family Head’s eyes lately? If anything of the sort happens again, the Patriarch’s Residence will take our heads first and look for evidence later.”
“And we still have not even identified those three who stopped the assassins—the Samyo. Any half-baked attempt would only bring irreversible disaster down on our heads. That much is certain.”
“Huuu…”
A collective deep sigh. Every elder wore an exhausted expression.
After a stretch of silence Hong Ilgon finally closed the meeting.
“…Let us all put in a little more effort. Anyone who charges forward too boldly is bound to stumble. For now we pressure Dang Unhwa, search for another candidate to back, and do our utmost in our own domains to check the Patriarch’s Residence’s monopoly. Opportunity will come.”
“Understood.”
With that the gathering dissolved. The elders shuffled out with slumped shoulders, trudging heavily back toward their quarters.
One of them—Elder Jin Cheong, who ranked among the lowest seats—rounded a corner and jolted to a stop at the sight of a figure that had appeared without a sound.
A beautiful young woman stood blocking the alley, so still and silent she hardly seemed human.
“…You—are you not the Young Master’s personal attendant? Do you have business with this elder?”
“Yes, Elder Jin Cheong.”
Ye-eun bowed politely at the waist.
“The Young Master requests your presence.”