Betting on Labor Union Shares
Cheon Il-hae perked up at the idea, but Gu Ja-ang shook his head vigorously and cut him off.
"Do you really think that'll work? Lives are on the line here. Too many variables. Besides, Hwa Cheon-gang would never agree to it."
He flashed a sinister smile as he spoke.
"And Hwa Cheon-gang's already in a position where he has to accept the challenge from that Yong family descendant."
?
Won Seung sensed there was more to it and probed casually.
"It looks like Strategist Gu has some plan in mind."
Gu Ja-ang just grinned slyly without answering. He looked extremely confident.
Hmm. This seems connected to what happened last night somehow?
Won Seung's mind raced.
Where did they send that female assassin? Cheongsu Gate? If so, that means sending killers after the challenger himself. Would Hwa Cheon-gang be that shameless? He'd risk total ruin in the martial world if it failed.
He'd assumed it was Cheongsu Gate at first, but Gu Ja-ang's reaction made it click.
What if it wasn't Cheongsu Gate, but Gu Ja-ang who sent her? And if they pinned it on Cheongsu Gate... Hwa Cheon-gang would have to accept Yong Jo-un's challenge just to clear his name, right? But what if the assassin succeeded? The whole plan goes up in smoke. Damn, this is complicated. Come on, Won Seung, think harder.
Won Seung felt like his head might explode, but he kept a straight face.
"Want to make a bet? I say we'll stay in this stalemate. So give it ten days, then have the gang leader formally propose the three-way duel to Hwa Cheon-gang. I'll bet he accepts for sure."
"Even when I say there's no need..."
Gu Ja-ang waved him off.
"If I lose, I'll just give you a painting, no strings attached."
"?!"
Won Seung laid it out.
"If the Yong descendant fights Hwa Cheon-gang within ten days, I'll hand over a painting without a word. If not, you lose—but I won't take anything from you."
"You're serious?"
It was an outrageously favorable deal.
But Won Seung added one condition.
"However, if nothing happens in ten days, the gang leader proposes the three-way duel to Hwa Cheon-gang. If he refuses then, I lose and give you a painting."
"You'll really hand it over?"
Gu Ja-ang inwardly cheered. A single painting worth two hundred thousand nyang? Jackpot.
Hwa Cheon-gang would have to be insane to take on both Cheon Il-hae and the Yong descendant at once.
Plus, rumors were already spreading that Cheongsu Gate had sent an assassin after Yong Jo-un. Hwa Cheon-gang would have to step up to defend his sect's honor.
Zero risk, massive reward.
Gu Ja-ang figured the kid was just being cocky. Easy to accept.
"What if he does accept? Then you'd lose. For fairness, shouldn't Strategist Gu stake something too?"
Won Seung stared him down.
"What will you bet, Strategist Gu?"
Gu Ja-ang let out a groan.
"Hmm..."
Victory was certain, but he had nothing to wager.
Won Seung had put up a two-hundred-thousand-nyang painting, so he needed something equivalent... but he didn't have anything that valuable.
As he considered backing out, Cheon Il-hae stepped in. He also believed Hwa Cheon-gang wouldn't accept the duel.
"If it comes to that, I'll buy another painting. I can't let one of my own lose face over money."
Cheon Il-hae boomed heartily, but Won Seung shook his head.
"I've already sold one painting, so that's fine. Instead, bet shares in the Sang River North Wharf Labor Union worth two hundred thousand nyang."
"What?"
Cheon Il-hae's face twisted. But Gu Ja-ang inwardly cheered again.
Gwangeonbang dominated the Sang River North Wharf Labor Union, while Cheongsu Gate controlled the South Wharf one.
The labor unions brokered ships for Sang River logistics and dockworkers for unloading, skimming ten percent of wages—a sweet, steady income.
In truth, these unions formed the backbone of both sects' power. With minimal investment beyond labor costs, they were low-risk ventures. Local magnates invested too, sharing dividends.
The North Wharf union was worth a million nyang in silver. Won Seung's two hundred thousand nyang demand equated to just two thousand nyang in shares—a drop in the bucket.
Even if they lost, a little maneuvering would boot him out.
"Could you step out for a moment?"
At Gu Ja-ang's words, Won Seung rose and slipped behind the partition into the inner room. He uncorked the listening tube and eavesdropped.
"Don't worry. We win for sure. Even if we lose, what can that kid do with two thousand nyang in shares? Just pay minimal dividends and dilute it with new issuances."
"Hmm. Still feels off. Labor union shares? No one's ever demanded that before."
"If it's really a headache..."
The rest was inaudible.
That bastard?
Gu Ja-ang was probably miming a throat-slit.
Won Seung ground his teeth.
We'll see whose throat gets slit.
Moments later, Gu Ja-ang called him back. Won Seung returned to the shop, and Gu Ja-ang tilted his chin up.
"I know you're clever. But the world doesn't always go as planned. To teach you a lesson, I'll accept the bet."
"Hmm. If Strategist Gu's accepting just to teach me... No need for that. Let's call it off."
Won Seung grumbled curtly, making Gu Ja-ang bristle.
"The gang leader already approved. You backing out now? A man's word is his bond."
Cheon Il-hae nodded too. Seeing Won Seung try to withdraw confirmed their confidence.
"Ah, I see. Another lesson from Strategist Gu: watch my words. Anyway, since we're betting, we need terms, right?"
Won Seung fetched paper and ink, wrote out the bet, and slammed his palm print down.
Cheon Il-hae frowned.
"I'm the leader of Gwangeonbang. My word is iron—no need for documents."
"Haha, of course. But I don't trust myself. I might weasel out, so evidence is best. You just transfer the shares. The bet's with Strategist Gu, so he signs."
"Fine."
Gu Ja-ang agreed readily, signing his name and stamping his palm.
Just then, Jong Bi returned.
"All taken care of."
At her report, Won Seung handed the painting tube to Gu Ja-ang.
"I'll tell the Taesu in advance that the gang leader's taking the Durun Mountain Bandit Uprising Scroll. Look forward to it."
"Oh, do that, and it'll be great."
Cheon Il-hae brightened.
"Safe travels."
After Cheon Il-hae and Gu Ja-ang left, Won Seung entered the parlor to find Jong Bi dancing like a maniac.
"What, bad food? Seizure?"
"We just scored two hundred thousand nyang! Hahaha!"
"Pfft, over this...?"
He played it cool but soon shrugged and joined in, dancing wildly with his head and body out of sync.
"Hahaha!"
Jong Bi burst out laughing at his flailing turtle dance.
Yong Jo-un, hiding in the branches outside, tilted his head.
These guys seem a bit off in the head.
Mid-dance, Won Seung noticed Ogu was gone.
"Where's Ogu?"
"Hiding in the shed."
Won Seung went to the shed and found Ogu huddled in the corner.
"Come out now. They're gone."
Ogu emerged, face uneasy.
"That scared of Gu Ja-ang?"
"Gwangeonbang's leader is a true master. He could crush someone like me in one palm strike."
"Ogu, fear's inside you. You're scared of yourself."
Ogu shot him a "what nonsense" look.
"Anyway, Gwangeonbang's done for soon. I'll give you your revenge shot. Gu Ja-ang's life is right here."
Won Seung dangled the bet document teasingly.
That evening,
to celebrate the two hundred thousand nyang windfall, Won Seung lit a fire in the garden and grilled meat.
Jong Bi and Ogu snatched bites nonstop from the roasting rack.
The savory aroma wafted everywhere with the smoke.
The female assassin, paralyzed and lying in the room, and Yong Jo-un, perched in the tree all day starving, both felt their stomachs rumble.
"Teacher O, grab some booze?"
Jong Bi sent Ogu on the errand. As he fetched it, she lowered her voice.
Ogu didn't know Won Seung or Jong Bi were from Jeokhyeolsan's assassin training camp. He saw them as a scholar and servant from Huangdo. Her occasional rudeness seemed like close-friend banter.
So they saved serious talk for when he was gone.
"Something to say?"
"She's hungry... Let's bring her some meat."
That's the important talk?
He'd expected haggling over the money split... Jong Bi cared more about the assassin.
Won Seung shook his head.
"No food till she farts post-surgery."
"Farts? Girls fart too?"
"Aigoo, aren't girls human? Didn't you see the girls at camp letting 'em rip?"
"Those weren't girls."
"They all shit the same."
"You always say..."
Jong Bi scowled. Ogu returned with the booze.
After a round, Ogu spoke up.
"Heard a rumor at the market. Any grudge between you and the Jong family?"
"Jong family? Why?"
"Their young master came to Baekhwa Pavilion, nearly died from a hidden attack. They're out for blood now."
"Hmm. Guess he didn't croak. Tough neck."
Stung by wasps repeatedly, his throat should've swollen shut and choked him.
"They drilled a hole in his throat."
"Gasp! Survived a hole in the throat?"
Jong Bi gaped.
Won Seung was mildly surprised too.
"Details."
"Just hearsay. A physician cut a hole in Young Master Jong's throat and inserted a reed to save him."
"Hmm... What's the doc's name?"
"Don't know the name, just 'Gong Physician.' Famous around here."
When the airway fully blocks from swelling, one emergency measure is tracheotomy—drilling the throat to inject air into the lungs.
But in the Central Plains, no one did that. Mostly acupuncture, herbs, moxibustion. Incising wounds aggressively was Cheondaemun's way.
Cheondaemun's predecessor, Manhwagok, was famed for medicine. It embraced Western Regions and Central Plains techniques, pioneering its own—unafraid to cut flesh.
Thus, Central Plains folk called it sinister, treating it as unorthodox (left path).
A Cheondaemun disciple, maybe?