Washing Gold

In the heart of Hefei's bustling market district, Namgung Cheon came to a halt before the entrance of the Geumokru.

At some point, a massive stone statue had been installed there, crouching with unmistakable majesty. The head of a lion, the horns of a dragon, scales sheathing its whole body — the legendary spirit beast said to swallow wealth and never let it go again: the Pixiu.

Even gaudier than before.

Namgung Cheon furrowed his brow as he gazed up at the gold-leafed plaque blazing in the sunlight. It was ostentation, pure and undisguised — Baek Du-gwang's tastes soaked through every inch of it. And yet he found he didn't mind. This was proof that the men who had once strangled their breath in the shadows could now step into the light and speak with their own voices. Which meant the Gold Pavilion's wealth and power were growing by exactly that much.

Just then, the guards posted at the entrance recognized him and bowed in respect.

"Young Master, we shall escort you to the Master's office."

Namgung Cheon gave a slight nod. One of the guards led the way ahead of him, leaving behind the boisterous clamor of the first floor until they reached the topmost level. Voices raised in argument burst through the door of the Master's office.

"No, I'm telling you it won't do! Grain prices have shot clean through the roof, and you want me to buy it up at rock bottom? Are you out of your mind?"

"Master, this isn't a purchase — it's seizing goods in lieu of debt repayment. Rather than taking bills on the spot, we stockpile it in the warehouses and ride the market spread—"

"Market spread? Until when? Do you want to watch the rice rot in the sacks? Take bills, silver, whatever — just take it! Something that won't rot!"

A fierce debate was raging inside. Namgung Cheon chuckled softly and pushed the door open.

Creeeak—

In the spacious office, Baek Du-gwang and Naeng Cheolsan stood on opposite sides of a massive map, hurling rhetoric back and forth. Baek Du-gwang was hammering his thick gold-ringed fist against the desk, while Naeng Cheolsan, his expression rigid as ever, thrust ledgers forward and argued his case point by point.

"You seem busy."

At Namgung Cheon's low voice, the noise in the room cut off as if a knife had sliced through it. Baek Du-gwang spun around, visibly startled.

"Well, bless my soul! Young Master!"

He abandoned his work on the spot and came hurrying over, his shining face full of delight. "You might have sent word you were coming, sir — I'd have come out to greet you properly. But then, what brings you—"

Namgung Cheon set the wooden chest he was carrying down on the table without preamble.

Thud.

The heavy sound rolled through the room. "Take a look at this."

Baek Du-gwang approached carefully and opened the lid. Golden light spilled out and lit up his face. His eyes went round as saucers.

"Gold bullion…"

Each ingot bore a different pattern and shape — some even carried the faint imprint of old official seals.

"Hooh… now this…"

Baek Du-gwang picked up a single ingot and turned it over, examining it from every angle. Running his fingertip along its surface, testing its weight in his palm — his hands moved with anything but casual skill. Before long, certainty flashed in his eyes.

"These belong to the Ghost Mask Pact, don't they."

Rumors about Namgung Cheon had already spread far and wide, and Baek Du-gwang knew full well that the young master had single-handedly swept the Ghost Mask Pact from the map.

"Sharp eyes."

"One look is all it takes. These ingots were cast in the molds favored by the outlaw gangs down in Jiangnan. Some ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of them pad the insides with lead to cheat the scales, but—"

He flicked the ingot with his fingernail, listened to the clear ring it gave off, and nodded. "This one's genuine. And the purity is excellent."

Baek Du-gwang spoke with total conviction, and Namgung Cheon was quietly impressed. Without weighing it on a scale or scraping off a single shaving, the man had pierced straight through to the ingot's authenticity and worth in mere moments.

"How would you handle this?"

At Namgung Cheon's question, Baek Du-gwang set the ingot down and asked in earnest, "By 'handle' it, do you mean… you wish to convert it to cash?"

"As it stands, I can't use it."

"Precisely. The moment this hits the open market, every hawk and vulture in sight ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠will come circling."

Baek Du-gwang tilted his head toward Naeng Cheolsan, who stepped forward.

"Young Master, at current market rates, this quantity of bullion is worth roughly twenty thousand taels of silver."

Twenty thousand taels of silver. The profit the Baek Merchant Group had earned over an entire month of trading with the Nambyeok Trading House had been ten thousand taels. The immense fortune in Namgung Cheon's hands amounted to two full months of that.

"However—"

Naeng Cheolsan's gaze sharpened. "If you take this directly to a gold house as-is, far from fetching its true price, it will be treated as stolen goods and cut down by half. Worse, should someone file a report, you'll find yourself traipsing in and out of the magistrate's office explaining where it all came from."

"So what do you suggest?"

"If we are to handle it on our end, it must be split up and sold piecemeal — dribbled out into the black markets bit by bit to convert it to cash—"

Naeng Cheolsan's face clouded. "The amount is simply too large. To absorb a volume like this without a whisper of rumor would take a good two years at minimum."

Two years. Namgung Cheon gave a hollow laugh. He could hardly wait that long.

"Is there no other way?"

"There is."

Naeng Cheolsan's eyes gleamed. "The most certain and secure method there is. It does involve complicated procedures, and above all—"

"An expert is required," Baek Du-gwang cut in with a broad grin. "A very skilled one."

He ran his fingers over the ingots in the chest as he went on. "Young Master, with a volume this size, we don't do an exchange — we do a transaction. Why not meet the Money Master of the Nine Dragons Bank's Hefei branch, Jo Gyeong-san?"

"Money Master."

Namgung Cheon murmured the words low. The owner of the money. Not some branch manager's title, but 'owner' — that sheer arrogance tickled his interest in a strange way.

"Indeed. A notoriously hard-nosed fellow, but when there's profit to be had, the man doesn't care if it's fire or flood. I'll go in first and puff things up a little, and the moment you produce the bullion—"

Baek Du-gwang clenched his fist. "I'll set the stage perfectly for converting this fortune."

Lujiang, south of Hefei. Where the waterways of the Yangtze interlocked with the overland roads, this had been a strategic crossroads of men and goods since time immemorial. In the very heart of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it stood the imposing halls of the Nine Dragons Bank, proud and unyielding.

Armed guards kept strict watch before the main hall, and the merchants flowing ceaselessly in and out wore taut, tightly wound expressions.

Namgung Cheon, with Baek Du-gwang in tow, came to a stop before the bank. A guard moved to block their path at the entrance, but the moment he confirmed Baek Du-gwang's face, he flinched and stepped aside.

"M-Master Baek, is that you? What brings you here today of all days…"

"We've come to see the Money Master. I'm escorting an esteemed guest, so cut the chatter and show us in."

There was an unusual gravity in Baek Du-gwang's voice. The guard said not another word and led them inside.

Their destination was the guest hall, situated in the deepest reaches of the compound. Word must have arrived ahead of them, for a single man was already seated there, sipping tea. His frame was so massive it made the teacup look positively miniature, and the heavy gold rings crowding every finger of his hand flashed each time he raised the cup to his lips.

The Money Master of the Nine Dragons Bank's Lujiang branch — Jo Gyeong-san.

Setting down his cup, Jo Gyeong-san spoke in a low voice. "Master Baek, don't you always come at the end of the month? What brings you so soon? And this gentleman — might he be…"

"That's right — the Third Young Master of the Namgung Clan, Young Master Namgung Cheon himself."

At Baek Du-gwang's words, Jo Gyeong-san's eyebrows stirred. Yet he offered only a shallow dip of his head, making no move to rise from his seat.

"Ah, the man all of Anhui is talking about these days. But may I ask what brings such a person to this shabby little place? Surely not the Namgung Clan's finances."

Polite words with a barb buried inside them. This was a world ruled by money, and clan prestige counted for nothing here — that was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the veiled warning in his tone. Baek Du-gwang cleared his throat and stepped in.

"Money Master, spare us the needlework. He's come all this way in person because there's a big deal on the table. I've been telling him what a wizard you are with money, so he said he'd see for himself — that's why I brought him."

Baek Du-gwang smoothed the atmosphere over with practiced ease and set the wooden chest he'd brought down on the table.

Thud.

At the heavy sound, Jo Gyeong-san's eyes narrowed. "A matter of finances, is it."

Namgung Cheon opened the chest as he spoke. Golden light flooded out, washing over Jo Gyeong-san's face.

"Surely this is a bit beyond the Clan's household accounts, wouldn't you say?" Namgung Cheon asked, leaning back in his chair.

Jo Gyeong-san set down his teacup and straightened in his seat. Then, bending forward, he picked up one of the ingots. He ran his fingertips across its surface and judged its weight, turning it this way and that before speaking quietly.

"Genuine gold. But its origins…"

He set the ingot back in its place and looked up at Namgung Cheon. "Hmm. Since you've brought it yourself, Young Master, I'll not ask where it came from. But — what is it you want? Let me say this up front: converting it into bills through official channels is out of the question. A sum this size in bills would—"

"The head office of the Nine Dragons Bank would learn of it. I know. That's why it won't do."

Jo Gyeong-san nodded slowly. "So you're asking that no one — not a single soul — ever learn that this bullion was converted into bills or silver."

Namgung Cheon nodded.

"…"

Jo Gyeong-san fell silent. This was a dangerous transaction. A vast sum of unknown provenance, and airtight anonymity besides. One wrong step and the bank's hard-won credibility could be stained; if the head office ever caught wind of it, his own position would be finished — that much was obvious.

But.

Jo Gyeong-san's eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. The reward for anonymous dealings was far richer than any ordinary trade. If this went through, his performance figures would shoot straight up in a single stroke. Before a windfall of this magnitude, refusal was no merchant's duty.

Baek Du-gwang chimed in, ever so casually. "Money Master, I know it puts you in a spot, but you won't lay eyes on a haul like this twice. The Young Master is trusting you with it — surely you're not thinking of sending him away empty-handed?"

A subtle pressure wrapped in an enticement. Jo Gyeong-san opened his mouth slowly.

"The rules leave me no choice. Converting it into bills is impossible."

A polite refusal. But beneath it—

These merchants. Give them an inch and they'll wrestle you for the reins every single time.

Namgung Cheon let out a small sigh. And then—

Scrape.

He rose from his seat.

"Then I'll have to look into another bank."

"…You're leaving?"

"I didn't come here to throw a tantrum and beg a man to do what cannot be done. If the Money Master says he cannot manage it, then I must go find someone who can."

Namgung Cheon turned away without the slightest trace of regret. Baek Du-gwang clicked his tongue with theatrical disappointment and closed the chest. "Aiigo, that's hardly befitting a Money Master, is it? Looks like you've just doubled another bank's takings."

The moment the two men moved toward the door, Jo Gyeong-san called out quietly. "Please wait just a moment, Young Master."

As Namgung Cheon and Baek Du-gwang turned back, Jo Gyeong-san weighed his words, then spoke. "…It isn't quite impossible. There is a way."

At the same time, he gestured them back to their seats. Once Namgung Cheon sat down again, Jo Gyeong-san began in measured tones. "If we convert it into bills, a record remains. But—"

He continued, calm and deliberate. "If you were to use your gold to buy things instead, it would be a different story altogether."

"Things?"

"Precisely. Have you ever heard of Tea Certificates?"

Namgung Cheon's eyebrows twitched. Tea certificates — government-issued vouchers redeemable for tea. Tea was an indispensable staple of daily life, and at the same time a luxury that advertised one's wealth. And it was, in equal measure, a strategic commodity that could not be handled carelessly.

That was why Anhui and a handful of other provinces — not everywhere, but enough — strictly controlled the production and distribution of tea, granting exclusive trading rights only to merchants who held the certificates. And so, between merchants, the tea certificates functioned exactly like negotiable bills.

Jo Gyeong-san pressed on with his explanation. "From time to time, the Nine Dragons Bank issues bills to merchants and takes their tea certificates in exchange. Even now, our vault holds a fair number of them on hand."

His gaze deepened. "I will formally purchase your bullion and transfer those tea certificates to you in return. Since nothing goes out under the bank's credit-backed bills, there is no need to report anything to the head office. A matter of this scale falls within my discretion."

"And then you'd have me sell the certificates."

Jo Gyeong-san nodded. "Yes. Among merchants, these certificates are as good as silver. The moment they hit the market, they'll be snapped up instantly. And the silver you earn that way…"

"Will be clean money."

Namgung Cheon finished the thought for him.

"Exactly so."

Jo Gyeong-san nodded. It was a flawless scheme.

Namgung Cheon sank briefly into thought. Tea, hm… not a bad play. Tea was a necessity. Demand never dried up, which made it easy to liquidate — and merchants would be falling over themselves to buy.

"Your cut?"

At Namgung Cheon's question, Jo Gyeong-san held up two fingers. "For the trouble of transferring the certificates — and, shall we say, for my silence. Twenty percent."

No small sum, but given the risk the man was shouldering, it was a rate one could accept.

"Fine."

Namgung Cheon answered curtly. Jo Gyeong-san's eyebrows lifted slightly — he had expected the young master to haggle, and the ready agreement caught him off guard.

"One thing, though."

Namgung Cheon leaned forward. His eyes fixed on Jo Gyeong-san as if to bore straight through him. "Not a word of this deal to anyone — not without my leave. Not the Merchant Dao Heavens' head office, not anyone."

Shaaaaa—

Azure energy bloomed up from Namgung Cheon's entire body like rising mist. The pure, crushing presence of a master of the Transcendent Realm. It was nothing a man like Jo Gyeong-san, who had never properly trained in the martial arts, could withstand.

The pressure bore down on his shoulders like a mountain, and cold sweat poured from his forehead as if from a summer downpour.

"Hhk—"

At Jo Gyeong-san's groan of agony, Namgung Cheon spoke again. "If any other word than silence reaches my ears, I will not come back for my money. I will come back for the Money Master's life."

The instant the words left his lips, the crushing pressure on Jo Gyeong-san vanished as if it had never been.

"Haah… haah…"

Jo Gyeong-san's back was soaked through with cold sweat.

Namgung Cheon rose from his seat. "Bear this in mind. I am not a merchant like you—"

His eyes flashed like a drawn blade.

"I am a martial artist who settles everything with the sword."