Chapter 291
Chapter 291
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 291
>Chapter Title: Deal (2)
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In response to my question, Muhammad answered.
“In truth, coffee began to gain popularity among our Huihui Cult about a few decades ago. And now, most of our Huihui followers enjoy it routinely, but lately, it’s become quite hard to obtain.”
“Is there a particular reason it’s gotten harder to come by?”
“It’s because of those heretics living far to the west—pale-skinned, blue-eyed folk who worship a false savior named Jesus. They go mad for coffee and buy it up at dozens of times the original price. As a result, even the stock we need for ourselves is being sold off entirely these days.”
“…So lately, those pale-skinned blue-eyed foreigners have been visiting these parts frequently?”
“You won’t see many around here. I’ve only heard rumors myself, but they say in the coastal cities to the west, you can often spot them coming for trade.”
Combining Muhammad’s words with what I’d seen and heard in Samarkand so far, the picture started to take shape.
“That explains why things feel somewhat subdued around here.”
I’d phrased the desolation more delicately, but as expected of someone with his experience, Muhammad quickly grasped my meaning.
“Exactly. Trade from the East began plummeting sharply over two hundred years ago, while in recent times, arrivals by sea from the West have surged, turning the western coastal areas into booming hubs.”
“…Which means the big city we need to visit to sell our goods is one of those coastal ports to the west?”
Muhammad Magid shook his head.
“It’d take at least twenty days from here to reach that port city. We’ve only heard tales of it ourselves and never been. But have no fear. Our Huihui followers live in the East as well, and one of the East’s premier cities lies just five days from here.”
By “East,” Muhammad seemed to mean the eastern reaches of the vast territories inhabited by Huihui followers.
As he explained, the abacus in my head rapidly tallied the numbers.
‘Hmm. Roughly twenty days or so from the main headquarters.’
Travel from the main headquarters to Lanzhou, the capital of Gansu Province, took about half a month. Procuring goods there and heading to that city would clock in around thirty-five days total.
By contrast, trekking all the way to that coastal area Muhammad mentioned would drag on for a horrifying fifty days.
And that was one way—factoring in the return trip, a single round of trade would eat up nearly a hundred days.
‘If the route stretches too long, the costs could outweigh the profits.’
Having run the calculations, I nodded and replied.
“For now, we’ll head to that city first. If there are merchant caravans or traders there willing to buy our goods, we’ll close the deal on the spot.”
“A wise decision.”
Muhammad smiled contentedly, then asked as if the thought had just struck him belatedly.
“Speaking of which, you’re from the Han lands yet already know of coffee. Rumors say Han ships occasionally dock at that port city, but has coffee spread widely in the Han realm too?”
I shook my head at his question.
“Not at all.”
At least during my time in Gansu, I’d never laid eyes on coffee, nor even heard it mentioned.
That said, listening to him, it occurred to me that Central Plains merchant caravans trading with Huihui folk might have brought some back.
The problem was…
‘Not only acquiring coffee, but someone inside the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult who knows its effects and trades with such caravans?’
An inexplicable unease stirred, like the long-faded side effects of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword creeping back up.
‘It could’ve come through nomadic converts to the Huihui Cult west of the Heavenly Myriad Mountains, but the odds are slim. Coffee seems pricey enough that nomads couldn’t easily obtain it.’
As I mulled over the inferences in my mind, Muhammad tossed a jest my way.
“Ha ha ha. Good thing it hasn’t spread east yet. It’s already hard enough to get thanks to those western heretics—if the East started buying too, we’d never lay hands on it again.”
Amusingly, his joke only solidified my suspicions.
No mere nomad could procure something scarce even for the influential families of a once-thriving city.
Masking my inner thoughts, I laughed and replied to his quip.
“Ha ha ha. Who knows? We might be the ones to spread coffee to the Han lands and make a fortune together.”
* * *
After the meeting and meal concluded, the Magid household provided Il-mok and his group with comfortable rooms to rest.
Il-mok finished his ablutions and returned to the room, where for some reason the three maidservants had been assigned to share it as well.
It was due to Muhammad’s delighted grin as he offered the single large chamber.
‘He thinks just like Barzakh Raman when it comes to this stuff.’
Il-mok wondered if it stemmed from Huihui Cult doctrine.
Refusing would’ve been awkward regardless.
It wasn’t rudeness so much as practicality—over forty people meant not enough separate rooms to go around.
The three women set up their bedding a short distance from Il-mok.
Jeong-hyeon seemed burdened by the crowd and positioned herself away even from Jin Ha-yeon and Ju Seo-yeon, while Ju Seo-yeon strained to inch her spot a single cun closer to Jin Ha-yeon’s.
As Il-mok let out a wry chuckle at the odd sight, Jin Ha-yeon approached with her usual impassive expression.
“Young Master, do you trust this Muhammad Magid?”
“As a trading partner, yes. If you’re asking whether he’s a good man, probably not.”
Il-mok shrugged and gave a brief explanation, preempting her likely follow-up about villains or doctrines by adding,
“That doesn’t make him a trash-tier villain, though. Just a sharp-minded ordinary guy chasing his own interests appropriately—like any average person.”
Jin Ha-yeon let out a faint sigh, uncharacteristic for her.
“To be frank, after everything that’s happened, I have zero trust in Huihui Cultists.”
“Same here. I’m starting to form prejudices myself.”
For the emotionally frozen Jin Ha-yeon to voice such distrustful sentiments, they truly must be some nasty characters.
“A religion should exist to care for the masses, yet what sort of doctrine allows them to commit evil so readily? I can’t comprehend it.”
In response to her not-quite-complaint, Il-mok replied in a nonchalant tone.
“Hmm. It’s hardly the doctrine’s fault. As our Divine Cult’s teachings say, most humans are inherently wicked, no? Even if a scripture’s full of good precepts, a wicked soul will twist it to their taste and abuse it.”
And the world branded those spreading such false doctrines as “heretics.”
“Their talk of ‘lavish hospitality for guests’ might come straight from their doctrine too. Those who attacked despite it probably twisted it to ‘heretics aren’t guests’ to suit themselves.”
The safety of traveling with the Magid household was proof enough.
Same humans, yet Huihui Cultists got mercy while outsiders faced plunder at will.
‘Maybe the doctrine’s just an excuse, and they’re playing the long game.’
Fellow believers might one day turn on each other, so restraint made sense.
Il-mok and his group, distant outsiders, meant any screams here would go unavenged—who’d track down the culprits?
As Il-mok pondered why these Huihui Cultists attempted raids so often, Jin Ha-yeon posed another question.
“Then what do you make of their doctrine?”
“Which one?”
“The one Barzakh Raman mentioned. That you can have multiple wives if you treat them all fairly and equally.”
She asked the out-of-left-field question with genuine impassivity.
“Hmm. Never read their scriptures, so this is purely subjective, but to me, it sounds like ‘don’t take multiple wives unless you absolutely can.’”
The women wore puzzled looks at his words.
“Isn’t that the opposite of what the doctrine says?”
“‘Treat all wives fairly and equally.’ Sounds simple, but is it feasible? It probably means only marry more if you can account for human jealousy.”
“…I see.”
Jin Ha-yeon nodded, slipping back into her signature blank expression after a moment’s thought.
Ju Seo-yeon seemed unbothered, while Jeong-hyeon’s face darkened for some reason.
‘Cramped with so many women?’
Contrary to Il-mok’s assumption, Jeong-hyeon was mulling his earlier words.
‘If he wanted three wives and four concubines, I might have a shot…’
Her low self-esteem left her doubting she’d be chosen as his sole wife.
* * *
The next morning at dawn.
Geared up, they departed the Magid household but didn’t immediately leave Samarkand.
For some reason, Muhammad Magid led them to a palace-like massive structure.
Following his guidance, Il-mok’s eyes fell upon enormous murals.
Depictions of various people engaged in trade.
“As these murals show, Samarkand was once a grand center of learning and flourished greatly. Though the West has stolen that role now, I sincerely pray that you all mark the return to those glory days.”
Muhammad Magid droned on like an elder bearing a historic mission.
Likely a show for the Samarkand residents watching from all around.
Whatever Muhammad prattled, Il-mok’s gaze, scanning the murals, fixed on one painting.
A familiar image.
‘Goguryeo?’
The attire, hairstyle, even the ring-pommel sword.
It resembled illustrations from murals and artifacts he’d seen in his Seo Ji-hoon days, studying Korean history for the civil service exam.
A strange sensation.
‘Man… Getting an experience even modern times couldn’t offer.’
Perhaps because he’d left the now-familiar divine lands and Central Plains for the Western Regions.
Lately, Il-mok had been viewing things more through his former modern Seo Ji-hoon lens.
As Il-mok lost himself in the mural, Muhammad Magid’s speech ended, and they finally exited Samarkand westward.
The original group was joined by ten from the Magid household.
For interpretation, guidance, and identity vouching.
Fortunately or not, O-hallak was still tagging along.
The Magid additions spoke Huihui Cult and nomadic tongues but not a word of Central Plains speech.
They traveled until dusk, camped overnight, and resumed at dawn the next day.
By mid-morning, they reached another city.
Bukhara.
Walled like the last, but different from Samarkand.
After a brief exchange between the Magid men and the gate-guarding soldiers, they passed without issue.
The middle-aged Magid leading the group asked Il-mok,
“Four more days takes us to the great city of Merv, but it’s just small villages until then. Shall we stay here a night? Or stock up on rations and water and head out now?”
“Leaving now, we’d reach a village by evening?”
“No village big enough for this many lies a bit farther. We’d probably camp.”
“Then we’ll overnight here.”
“I’ll secure lodging.”
The man, familiar with Bukhara’s streets, led them to inns.
Too many for one place, but they found three nearby spots.
Some stood watch in shifts to nap off fatigue, while others toured the city with interpreters.
Dawn the next day, they set off again.
Four days of hopping occasional villages.
No raids—just smooth sailing.
A massive city’s silhouette appeared ahead.
Naturally, a satisfied smile graced Il-mok’s lips.
‘Dealing with the Magid household was the right call.’
Going solo to that city would’ve dragged them into all sorts of bizarre messes.
If the return trip stayed this easy, giving them thirty percent felt fair.