Changbong Hall — I
The Moyong Clan. Though it had declined far more than other great martial families of Murim, no one could deny that within Liaodong Province, the Moyong Clan reigned as its undisputed hegemon—a clan without rival among sects or martial houses alike.
Today, however, the Moyong Clan was split into two pillars.
Changryongjeon and Changbongjeon. The former, the home of an imugi—a serpent that, consumed by jealousy and envy, failed to become a dragon and fell into corruption. The latter, the dwelling of a phoenix that had slain its own mate. The clan now stood locked in a tense standoff beneath the banners of dragon and phoenix.
Changbongjeon. A private training hall in the town of Bicheo, a place where no one but her most trusted intimates was permitted even to approach. There stood a woman with a sword in her hand.
Anyone seeing her for the first time would find their thoughts briefly arrested, suffocated by a beauty too vast to breathe around. Even a wanderer who had spent a lifetime roving the Jianghu would call her the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and any connoisseur of refinement, upon glimpsing her face, would not hesitate to name the foremost beauty of the martial world without a moment's pause.
The foremost beauty of the martial world—her name was Moyong Sang-ah.
The phoenix who had slain her own husband performed a sorrowful sword dance.
"Your mastery improves with each passing day."
The Changbongdaeju murmured his admiration as he watched Moyong Sang-ah halt her training. An absurd rate of growth, he thought. How many years had it taken him to reach such a level? In all his life, he had never seen anyone attain so much so young as his lord.
"I still fall far short. How went the matter I assigned you?"
Moyong Sang-ah spoke with an indifferent expression. Even the sight of her sweat-dampened hair clinging unguarded to her cheek was bewitching.
"The private merchants of Joseon have resumed the ginseng smuggling trade after a year's halt. They are dealing with our merchants in Chaekmun, a border village."
"When they purchase the Joseon ginseng, have our acquired businesses distribute it throughout the Central Plains."
"That is…."
The Changbongdaeju hesitated, as though something weighed on his conscience.
"Is something the matter?"
"A serious problem has arisen."
Even in Joseon, the ginseng trade was conducted regularly through official channels. But ginseng was a miraculous elixir that strengthened internal energy and restored vitality, and the official allotment could never hope to satisfy the demand of the Central Plains. And so, crossing the Amnok River that marked the Joseon border, a clandestine trade in Joseon ginseng had long flourished in Liaodong Province.
The smuggling trade offered profits vast enough to tempt any Joseon merchant, and for decades past, one family had held its reins entirely in hand.
The Kang family of Joseon. Though annihilated, the Kang clan had descended from a line of court interpreters, beginning with small-scale smuggling before daring a hand at the border trade itself, eventually pushing into the Central Plains until they controlled the bulk of Joseon's ginseng distribution.
"You say they demanded a different trading partner?"
Moyong Sang-ah spoke as she rode toward the smuggling site with the Changbongdae. A different partner—the very notion was absurd. Every business and merchant connected to the Kang clan's ginseng trade in the Central Plains lay within her grasp. She alone could absorb the full volume of Joseon's ginseng, and she alone should. Who else could they possibly seek?
"They say our prices don't suit them."
"You told the merchants to quote the average market rate. And I instructed that you were authorized to raise it by twenty percent if negotiations proved difficult."
Moyong Sang-ah looked at the Changbongdaeju with a flicker of suspicion.
"They're demanding double. And they will hand over only thirty percent of their usual volume."
"Double? Is the ginseng supply from Joseon short?"
It was true that the trade had been suspended for a year following the Kang family's treason affair. But stock remained in the Central Plains. There was no circumstance that would justify paying double the price outright.
If the supply had simply been cut off for a year, the solution was to purchase an additional year's volume to make up the shortfall. Double the price?
"No, my lord. They arrived carrying two years' worth of ginseng."
"Then there must be some scheme beneath it. Let us meet them first and see."
Moyong Sang-ah and her party arrived at the village where the trade was being conducted. As they walked a short way, countless crates of ginseng came into view, with a temporary tent discreetly pitched among them. When she and her entourage entered the tent where the Joseon merchants and the merchants of her acquired businesses had gathered, every gaze turned to them at once.
The middle-aged man who appeared to lead the Joseon merchants in particular could not tear his eyes from Moyong Sang-ah.
"A woman of such beauty! I know at once who you must be. Make way, quickly! The benefactor of Joseon's merchant circles has arrived!"
The head merchant came to his senses with a start and fussed over her welcome with theatrical flourish.
"A benefactor, you say?"
"Indeed, a benefactor! Thanks to your wise counsel, the Kang family that lorded over Joseon's commerce was swept away root and branch! What else could you be but a benefactor!"
At the man's single remark, the air inside the tent froze in an instant. To strike so casually at the tenderest wound of Changbongjeon's master.
Moyong Sang-ah narrowed her eyes and glared at the man. Was he simply a creature with no instinct for what should not be said? Or was there intent behind it—had he provoked her temper deliberately from the very first word?
Her own merchants could only fidget and cast anxious glances about, for if the martial artists drew their blades the trade would collapse and blood would flow besides.
But Moyong Sang-ah, too, was the head of a faction. With a second year of trade now looming before her, she did not stumble over so petty a provocation.
"I heard the story on the way here. Let us come straight to the point. I will add thirty percent to last year's price. In exchange, hand over your entire volume."
Double was impossible. But thirty percent atop the previous price would leave both sides satisfied. Moyong Sang-ah stepped back a pace, offering concession to the man who had provoked her.
"Woman, do not overstep your place. The offer of trade belongs to us who hold the goods. Double the price of last year—and only thirty percent of the volume."
"How dare you—!"
"My lord!"
That a merchant of the lowest, black-haired barbarian stock should scorn his lord—outrage blazed hot through the tent, and the merchants' faces began to blanch.
Yet both Moyong Sang-ah and the merchant who had provoked her remained perfectly composed.
"I hold the ginseng market of the Central Plains in my hand. Where do you imagine you will unload such a volume?"
Moyong Sang-ah raised a hand to still the Changbongdae, and addressed the merchant.
"Simply carry it past Liaodong and sell it to others in the Central Plains who need ginseng. Is that not enough?"
"…You have remarkable audacity."
The words sounded like praise, but his voice was saturated with mockery.
Joseon ginseng was an elixir sought after by martial artists and commoners alike. For ordinary merchants—not envoys, but mere traders—to carry such treasure into the Central Plains?
Not only the brigands, outlaws, bandits, and martial men of the Unorthodox factions—even Orthodox sects with black hearts of their own might quietly draw their blades.
"I know full well how dangerous the road to the Central Plains is, so I shall pay a handsome escort fee. After all, was that not the way of things when the Kang family traded with the Moyong Clan?"
Don't be greedy with the ginseng. Be a good girl and content yourself with escorting it.
Moyong Sang-ah turned the words of this man—who had rallied the smuggling factions in the Kang family's place—over and over in her mind.
If this continues, the initiative in the ginseng trade will be taken from me.
She possessed many businesses, but a great number of them could survive only by holding the ginseng trade.
And in her breast, Moyong Sang-ah conjured the memory of a single man.
My lord.
Humiliation she could endure. But what he had left to her—even while begging her to end his life—she could not lose to such worthless wretches.
That the hegemon of Liaodong, mistress of Changbongjeon, Moyong Sang-ah, endured the contempt of men who did not know their own station was never about wealth. It was because she wished to preserve intact all that her lord had left behind.
Moyong Sang-ah opened her mouth, making one final concession to these merchants who knew nothing of their place.
"I will add fifty percent to last year's price. Even without placing your heads on the scales, I believe that is a price you can be satisfied with."
She did not look at the man before her, but addressed the other Joseon merchants standing beside him.
Fifty percent above the usual price. Even accounting for costs, it was an enormous profit.
The tent began to stir. But the head of the Joseon merchants held enough authority to quell the commotion with a single motion.
"I will hand over forty percent of what we carry. Be satisfied with that."
"…Very well."
"My lady! That much will starve every one of our businesses to death!"
The merchants on her side cried out in shock. They had been unable to purchase ginseng for an entire year—and now only forty percent?
True, the goods before them amounted to two years' worth, so they might be able to take their fill today. But if the initiative passed from their hands now, they would be conceding volume for years to come—and the future was plain as day.
"Merchants, go out with the Changbongdae and verify the volume and quality."
Moyong Sang-ah brushed aside her merchants' objections and sent them out of the tent.
"Should have done that from the start. Now, let us discuss the escort. Sit beside me in my carriage, and I'll see your escort fees are paid handsomely from now on."
Perhaps drunk on the taste of victory—the merchant moved his hand toward Moyong Sang-ah's white hand resting on the table, slithering toward it like a venomous serpent.
Moyong Sang-ah lightly brushed the man's hand away.
"I never agreed to escort anything."
"Then every business under you can starve."
"……"
"I intend to lead the Joseon ginseng trade from now on. Surely that warrants proper treatment, don't you think?"
Moyong Sang-ah studied the man.
Her fortune was indeed colossal, but it was not an endlessly replenishing goblin's club. These businesses had been the Kang family's, and it was self-evident that many of them would wither and die if the steady flow of ginseng were cut off.
"It's only because it's us that we deign to trade with the remnants of that treasonous Kang litter. Any other merchant would have refused the deal outright. So let's call it an even trade, hm?"
Watching Moyong Sang-ah deliberate, the merchant allowed himself a satisfied smile within. Press the wench a little harder, and he could seat her at his side. Unable to contain the lecherous thoughts rising within him, the man reached out his hand again, like a slinking serpent.
This time Moyong Sang-ah struck his hand away with force.
"You viperous bitch! Fine. Let's see how long you can keep this up."
The man screwed his face into an ugly scowl and seized his own wrist, shouting with fury. He could no longer remember the resolve he had made to conduct himself calmly in so large a deal, setting aside his love of wine and women. From the moment he had seen her face when she entered the tent, he had been incapable of a sane thought.
"My lady. All the ginseng has been loaded."
Moyong Sang-ah rose from her seat at the Changbongdaeju's report.
"Surely you don't mean to abandon the trade over pride, woman? As your senior in the merchant's craft, let me teach you how a prideful thing learns to bend."
"And how would I do that?"
The corners of Moyong Sang-ah's mouth lifted, ever so slightly. But her smile was cold as a blade pressed against the heart.
Beautiful. Too beautiful. The man's reason lay paralyzed before her beauty; he could not read what lay behind the smile of a woman he should never have dared covet.
No—worse, he mistook it for a sign that provoking her further was the correct course.
"Come here, then. Strip off those heavy clothes, show me that pale skin, pour my wine at my side—and I'll throw in an extra five pun of volume. I've a taste for wine poured by a widow who died a virgin bride, never knowing her wedding night."
Perhaps it was the intoxication of victory. Perhaps it was that he had lost all composure before her face. Whatever the cause, the man crossed the line—clearly, irrevocably.
Trampling a beaten rival and mocking him was the province of competitors. It was never something one did to one's trading partner.
Moyong Sang-ah's chilling smile—that seemed fit to pierce a man's heart—turned upon the merchant.
The businesses her lord had left her. She could not ruin the trade. That was why she had endured the insults.
She had conceded because she was confident she could still turn a profit even from an outrageous bargain.
But the man had touched the one person who must never be touched, spoken of the one thing that must never be spoken.
Within Moyong Sang-ah's breast, a rage past hot—cold to the point of burning—began to smolder.
"Changbongdaeju."
"Yes, my lord!"
"Burn every last crate of ginseng that remains."
She had chosen to feed the fire of her cold fury.