Gold? Where's the Gold?
“You're doubting me, but do you think that bastard would just let me go?”
Jo Bang-un glared at him suspiciously, but Won Seung answered without a shred of shame.
“Sure, I've got some brains and the Seong King's favor, but I'm just a lowly scholar at heart. Still, he knows my status—he wouldn't dare touch me. He knows the Seong King would hunt him to the ends of hell if I got hurt. That's why we even had that little showdown at the national prelate's place.”
“Your status... what exactly is it?”
Won Seung furrowed his brow.
“If he knew my status, the Cheongsu Gate's second steward wouldn't have dared sit across from me.”
Jo Bang-un's eyes narrowed sharply, but Won Seung pressed on, unfazed.
“But since I have to keep my identity hidden, I can't blame you for that.”
Jo Bang-un had nothing to say.
Won Seung tapped his temple with a finger.
“To be precise, I'm the Seong King's... right here.”
What the hell is this guy babbling about?
As Jo Bang-un scowled, Won Seung quickly continued.
“That Dae Yeon Sword fellow was pretty pissed off too. The Seong King sent his precious me personally to save face for him.”
“You're the Seong King's strategist?”
Jo Bang-un couldn't believe it.
It screamed like a lie, yet Won Seung said it with such brazen confidence. Could a kid this young pull off a bluff this bold?
It was confusing.
Won Seung straightened his expression and took it a step further.
“Strategist? What do you take me for? He wouldn't entrust a key role like this to anyone but blood kin.”
Won Seung claimed to be Seong King's blood relative and calmly lifted his teacup for a sip.
It wasn't a lie.
Seong King's sister was his stepmother, Joo Gunju... Wait, no blood between us, huh? The realization made the tea taste bitter.
Won Seung set down his cup with a grumble.
“Sangyang tea really is subpar. Makes me miss Hwaan Chamber's brew. Can't a place like Cheongsu Gate afford decent tea for guests? This isn't even tea—it's swill. Are all martial sects this cheap?”
Even as Won Seung spouted arrogance, Jo Bang-un held his tongue and listened. He knew discernment of tea could reveal one's status. But believing Won Seung was Seong King's kin? No way.
His cautious nature was just holding back disaster for now.
You little shit. I'll rip off your mask and chop off your fingers, toes, and nose. Let's see if you can spout this nonsense then.
Jo Bang-un steeled himself inwardly, then said gravely,
“So... you're saying that guy's the type who challenges masters, makes excuses, and builds a reputation?”
“Well, that's how it looks from the circumstances so far. But the guy we met at the national prelate's place talked like he could really beat Hwa Cheon-gang.”
Jo Bang-un scowled. He couldn't let the kid's nonsense slide.
“Hey. You can't just toss around the second lord's name like that.”
“Huh? Calling Hwa Cheon-gang by name—what else should I call him? Does he hold an official post?”
Jo Bang-un was speechless. To the high nobles of Huangdo, even Cheongsu Gate's revered second lord was just a commoner.
Grinding his teeth, Jo Bang-un said,
“Do you have anything to prove you're on a secret mission from the Seong King?”
As he probed slyly, Won Seung's face suddenly hardened, a chill radiating from him.
“What did you say?”
Won Seung slammed the table and stood, jabbing a finger at Jo Bang-un's face as he bellowed.
“A mere servant of a martial sect demands to see the Seong King's token? I've been humoring you—don't think you're my equal! Tell your master to come here himself! Even on a covert mission, revealing my status and getting this treatment? Unacceptable!”
Jo Bang-un's breath caught. He prided himself as a master, yet he couldn't move.
Pinned by Won Seung's forty years of inner energy, Jo Bang-un barely managed,
“N-no... that's not it. I have to report to my lord first...”
“Tell your master to come verify it himself!”
Won Seung spat coldly, then waved him off—get out. He muttered self-mockingly,
“So this is covert work. Enduring this humiliation. No wonder the Seong King tried to stop me.”
What the...?
Jo Bang-un was dazed. Won Seung's mutter barely registered. That crushing aura had half-fried his mind.
Is this the presence of royalty?
A mere scholar, yet his anger overwhelmed even a self-proclaimed first-rate master like him.
In truth, it was just Won Seung's inner power, but Jo Bang-un couldn't think that way. It didn't look like scholar-cultivated martial arts.
“What are you waiting for? Get out!”
Under Won Seung's icy glare, Jo Bang-un's legs buckled. He scrambled up and bowed.
“M-my apologies. I'll relay your words to my lord.”
As Jo Bang-un hurried to leave, he paused. He hadn't even gotten the name.
Turning back politely, he asked,
“May I have your name...?”
“Figure it out yourself. Ask at Seongwangbu—they'll tell you.”
Won Seung snorted. Jo Bang-un made a sour face and left.
Jong Bi, eavesdropping outside, rushed in.
Are you insane?
A piercing transmission.
Transmission arts were usually for Peak experts or higher, but assassins trained early due to their trade. Jeokhyeolsan taught its trainees a unique lip-sealed transmission, which Won Seung had mastered.
Jong Bi's heart pounded so hard she could barely transmit properly.
Ordering Hwa Cheon-gang to come from Cheongsu Gate's inner quarters? Pure madness. If enraged Hwa Cheon-gang showed, they were dead.
Assassination offered slim hope, but a top hundred master was an unbreakable wall head-on.
Yet Won Seung was calm.
“What's the matter?”
Jong Bi snapped to.
There are two watchers outside. Use transmission!
Won Seung ignored it and said aloud,
“Perfect timing. I have a message for the local yamen.”
He pulled out brush and ink, scribbling swiftly.
“Tell them to send this to Seongwangbu via the yamen runners.”
He handed over the letter and another drawing.
Then transmitted,
Make an exact copy of this.
“What's th—?”
At the abrupt order, Jong Bi stammered, glancing at the drawing. Won Seung transmitted reproachfully,
Watchers outside, remember? Mind your words.
Jong Bi shut her mouth.
“Make sure they send it as priority. On your way, stop by Unhwa Company for our luggage.”
Pretend to go to the yamen—don't actually send it. You know that. Focus on making this.
The drawing was a Seongwangbu identity token. Jong Bi got the picture.
Make it yourself. Quietly. You've learned smithing, right?
Grasping it, she nodded.
“Understood. I'll be back.”
To escape the crisis, a token seemed necessary—she accepted readily. But Won Seung's next transmission halted her.
Make it out of gold. Pure gold.
Turning back, Jong Bi's eyes screamed bewilderment.
Gold? Where the hell are we getting gold?
That little bastard—I'll tear off his mask.
His outrageous status claim left no choice but retreat. He hadn't even gotten a name. But no matter how he thought, it didn't add up.
Jo Bang-un stormed off, only to run into Hwa Cheon-un.
“Weren't you going to investigate someone?”
“Ah!”
Spotting Hwa Cheon-un, Jo Bang-un flinched into a bow, then a thought struck. He was in a tough spot.
Hwa Cheon-gang was hot-tempered and cruel—telling the truth might get the kid tortured to death on the spot. If Won Seung really was from Seongwangbu, it could blow up.
Even Cheongsu Gate couldn't handle Seongwangbu sending an army.
But delaying the report? If it was a lie, he'd look like a fool played for one.
Even rushing, it'll take ten days to verify.
Sending someone to Huangdo minimum that long. To placate Hwa Cheon-gang meanwhile, use the mild third lord before him.
Composing himself, Jo Bang-un said,
“Interrogating him, he spouted something ridiculous...”
He relayed Won Seung's words, adding spice. Not cowed by Seongwangbu prestige, but genuinely seeming like blood kin, so caution was needed.
“Hmm. Good work.”
As expected, Hwa Cheon-un nodded approvingly.
“He's a caged bird anyway. Just takes time to crack the truth.”
“Yes. I'll send someone to Huangdo immediately. Check with local escorts and wandering martial artists if such an incident happened there. He stopped at Unhwa yesterday—trace his trail too. Truth out in days.”
“As expected, our second steward is thorough.”
Hwa Cheon-un's perfunctory praise still pleased Jo Bang-un.
“Just worried how the second lord will hold out.”
“I was just discussing that with him. Told him it might be Gwangeonbang scheming—handle carefully.”
“Ah, makes sense now. They could be plotting. I'll investigate that angle too.”
Jo Bang-un bowed and left. Watching his hurried back, Hwa Cheon-un frowned.
“Seongwangbu blood kin...”
Three years ago, the late emperor died, young one ascended—Seongwangbu's moves grew suspicious. Rumors swirled of usurping the throne.
Hwa Cheon-un knew Huangdo's dark clouds spelled trouble. Best stay clear.
“This isn't good...”
Cheongsu Gate's third lord shook his head repeatedly, heading to the guest quarters. Won Seung wasn't there.
“He went to tour the estate—said he wanted to see the grounds.”
A servant guarding reported.
Won Seung toured Cheongsu Gate's grounds, trailed by two watchful warriors. His ambiguous status—neither guest nor foe—plus the talk with Jo Bang-un, made them wary of mistreating him.
Cheongsu Gate split into inner and outer compounds; outsiders barred from inner. Outer was open save forbidden zones.
“Cheongsu Gate's a pretty big sect, huh? Grounds are huge.”
Won Seung chatted to his trailing guards.
They weren't sure if watchers or guides. No clear orders on handling this high-status-looking scholar, so they mumbled,
“Among Geom Yak Jong's four great subordinate sects, we're top five. Rulers of Sangyang— this is standard.”