Chapter 61. This Feels Kinda Scammy
Won Seung assigned Ogu to keep tabs on Gwancheonbang.
With the tripartite martial bout looming, who knew what schemes Cheon Il-hae or Gu Ja-ang might cook up.
Ogu had no desire to cross paths with Gu Ja-ang, but Won Seung talked him into it.
"You've been reborn, completely. Even your mom wouldn't recognize you. If you're still uneasy, use the human skin mask."
"If someone's screwed you over, you gotta get revenge. This is your chance!"
Ogu concealed his stunning(?) beauty behind the human skin mask.
Knowing Gu Ja-ang's personality and tastes made tailing him a breeze.
Or rather, it was elegant. The guy only frequented places like this.
Right now...
Ogu sat by the window of a quaint restaurant overlooking the Sang River, sipping his liquor lightly.
Gazing at the lazily flowing blue waters, a curse bubbled up unbidden. He'd nearly ended up as fish food in that very river.
Ever since, Ogu steered clear of fish. Even now, his side dishes were strictly vegetables.
'You'll die by my hand. I swear it!'
As Ogu tilted his cup, his gaze occasionally flicked toward the private room where Gu Ja-ang and Jo Bang-un sat.
'What kind of plotting brings them to this out-of-the-way spot?'
Ogu's eyes shifted to the errand boy.
The boy gave a knowing nod, grabbed a wet towel from his tray, and swept past the second-floor private room once more.
It had cost a pretty penny to buy that kid off. Ogu, once sparing with his body over coin, now spent like water.
It all came down to who was calling the shots.
Gu Ja-ang had wanted flesh as payment; Won Seung, meanwhile, insisted money moved even ghosts and showered it freely.
Burning through that cash made Ogu realize just how threadbare his Gwancheonbang earnings had been—barely enough to scrape by for six whole years.
Ogu was hooked on the taste of wealth.
The liquor he savored now? He wouldn't have dared order it back then.
But Won Seung had said it best:
People had to eat well and dress well to become good people. And good people did good work—so don't skimp on food or clothes.
Ogu didn't fully get it, but he followed it to the letter.
"Kuhk!"
The booze tasted sweet.
Ogu, whose real age topped thirty but looked barely into his early twenties, was playing the connoisseur when a derisive "Hmph!" snorted from the next table.
He glanced over: three rough types, the kind who threw their weight around the neighborhood.
Not that normal working stiffs would hit the sauce in broad daylight.
"What're you staring at? Eyes down, freak."
Ogu let out an exasperated sigh, tilting his head to the ceiling.
Ever since the new face, he dealt with this crap now and then.
'Patience, Ogu. You've been given a second shot at life. A life of luxury, no less. Keep it low-key.'
He turned away and downed his cup in one gulp. Mocking snickers followed.
"Look at this pretty-boy eunuch punk, strutting like he owns the place..."
Ogu shot to his feet. He'd planned to stay quiet, but he couldn't just swallow that.
He was already stewing over Gu Ja-ang...
"Hey, you dog bastards. Come outside nice and quiet."
He stormed out the front.
The trio rose immediately, trailing him with exchanged glances—clearly baiting him on purpose.
Ogu, a bit tipsy, hadn't clocked it.
They followed him into the alley.
Moments later.
Screams and snapping bones echoed several times before Ogu strolled out casually.
Grinning like nothing happened.
'Yeah, that's the stuff. This is why I dove into the jianghu. But is this lifestyle over now? Gotta play respectable painting shop owner...'
A wry smile tugged at his lips as he looked up. A passing woman startled, staring wide-eyed.
A gust off the river tousled Ogu's long hair—and she crumpled to the ground.
Ogu blinked, cocking his head. What's her deal?
He still had no clue what his looks really meant.
The private room Ogu had been eyeing.
A subdued voice rumbled low.
"So what's this 'solid intel' of yours? I need to know before I set up a meet with the gang leader."
Gu Ja-ang cooed persuasively, but Jo Bang-un crossed his arms, ignoring him.
"I've got your spot all lined up. Stick under me for a bit, then take over as Gwancheonbang's strategist."
"I need to hear it straight from Lord Cheon."
Jo Bang-un wouldn't budge.
Gu Ja-ang had been at this for days, but no dice.
'Tough bastard.'
Gu Ja-ang had pegged Jo Bang-un as disposable from the start.
Especially now, with himself on the chopping block. No way he'd recommend a replacement to Cheon Il-hae. Get the info, then bury the guy quietly somewhere.
Jo Bang-un's suspicions grew by the hour.
'Maybe he never even told Cheon Il-hae about me.'
If so, he was as good as dead—no allies left.
Gu Ja-ang threw up his hands in mock defeat.
"Fine, you win. As you know, the gang leader's swamped with tripartite bout prep, can't spare time... but what can I do? I'll take responsibility and nail down a date. Same spot, same time tomorrow."
"Sure."
Jo Bang-un grunted curtly.
Gu Ja-ang had pulled this routine several times—same promise, show up solo next day with the "lord's too busy" excuse, demand the intel first.
Today, as he left the room, he pressed Jo Bang-un again.
"It'll be set tomorrow for sure. Bring that info."
"Got it."
Jo Bang-un replied offhand. The intel was in his head anyway.
Watching Gu Ja-ang's retreating back from the window seat, Jo Bang-un steeled himself.
'This drag-out's going nowhere! Time to risk it all!'
The tripartite bout drew nearer by the day. Each one chipped away at his intel's value. Information was like fish—worth the most fresh-caught, at peak edibility.
Jo Bang-un reviewed what he held:
- Four from Geom Yak Jong, including the sect leader's disciple.
- The taesu secretly collaborating with Seongwangbu.
- Pung Un-saeng, pushing the bout, favors Cheongsu Gate.
It had seemed gold at first, but days later, doubts crept in.
Maybe it was worthless already.
Jo Bang-un grew desperate. In hindsight, he should've gone straight to Cheon Il-hae after Won Seung spilled it.
By wasting days verifying, the tripartite bout got officially announced.
'No more falling for this snake's silver tongue.'
Weeks of talks with Gu Ja-ang, zero progress. Tonight, he'd infiltrate Gwancheonbang and meet Cheon Il-hae himself.
Won Seung summoned Jong Bi and Ogu for updates.
Jong Bi covered Cheongsu Gate; Ogu focused on Gwancheonbang, especially Gu Ja-ang's moves.
"Hmm. Gu Ja-ang and Jo Bang-un still playing tug-of-war? Persistent bastards."
Won Seung had figured Jo Bang-un would run straight to Gu Ja-ang, but the guy vanished for days before resurfacing. Odd.
'The leak wasn't much... yet they're meeting three days straight? Scheming something?'
He hadn't pegged Gu Ja-ang for an immediate betrayal.
No time to dwell—too much on his plate.
"Keep eyes on them both. They might pull some stunt before the bout."
He reiterated, then pulled out a fat envelope.
"And sell these."
Jong Bi peeked: tripartite bout spectator tickets.
"Handing out spectator passes?"
"They're capping observers at three hundred. I've gotta pick impartial ones. That's why the tickets."
"Aha!"
Jong Bi and Ogu nodded—then their eyes bulged at the next bit.
"One thousand nyang per ticket."
"What? Who pays to watch a martial bout?"
"I said it: impartial spectators only. Filters out the shady ones. We take the pure fans willing to shell out a grand."
"Whoa. Three hundred tickets... at a thousand each?"
"Three hundred thousand nyang!"
Jong Bi and Ogu exchanged stunned glances.
"Still only nets us three thousand in silver."
"Is this okay? Gwancheonbang or Cheongsu Gate'll cry foul."
They'd risk life and death, and Won Seung profits off it?
"It's fine. All agreed. Just cover funeral costs for the dead."
Won Seung flashed the tripartite bout contract.
He tapped the fine print at the end:
- Tripartite bout organizer Pung Un-saeng bears responsibility for smooth execution. Must coordinate all bout matters, ensure fairness, oversee management. Also covers all related expenses and compensations thereof.
Jong Bi fumed.
"This is ridiculous! Organizing the bout, and they stick you with the bill?"
"Right? Demanding we foot costs? Outrageous!"
Ogu chimed in.
Won Seung waved it off grandly.
"I organized it, so I'll see it through. This expense? Pocket change."
"But how's that tie to tickets?"
"Look here! 'Compensations thereof.'"
"...?"
"Don't read 'compensation' as just payouts. If there's profit... reaping it is compensation. We shoulder public backlash to claim unexpected gains."
Jong Bi and Ogu stared blankly.
"Uh... feels kinda scammy?"
Profit as compensation?
"No need to overthink. If questioned, just say that."
"So what now?"
"Plaster notices: tripartite bout spectator tickets on sale. No prices listed—just spread the word. Remember: one thousand nyang each. Make a list to prevent scalpers."
Won Seung laid out the plan and sent them off.
'Too many damn details to juggle.'
The bout was four days out.
Coordination mostly set; just fight and done.
But Won Seung double-checked for wild cards.
Smooth sailing in theory, results as expected... yet it felt too pat.
Cheon Il-hae of Gwancheonbang, Cheongsu Gate's three brothers—what kind of players were they? Plus Dosanrim and Geom Yak Jong masters.
Even with the taesu backing him...
'They'll pull every dirty trick in the book.'
The outcome mattered to Won Seung too.
Cheon Il-hae had to die. No "might"—must.
Why? He'd sicced Cheon Seok-san on him to kill!
Hwa Cheon-gang... eh, live or die, whatever.
'Gotta keep Yong Jo-un alive.'
Post-bout, Sangyang's power balance could shift unpredictably.
Someone might lash out at him, the organizer.
That's when Yong Jo-un could shield him.
Won Seung planned to slip him a Cheonghyeol Bogyunghwan.