The Height of the Azure Sky

"……Exactly how much is this?"

The master chamber of Geumokru.

Baek Duguang ran a trembling hand across the piles of silver ingots and banknotes stacked upon the table.

A silver tide filled the room from wall to wall. By a rough estimate it topped twenty thousand nyang in silver—wealth enough to swallow a middling merchant house whole. And every last coin of it had come into being in barely a single month.

"Reporting, my lord."

Naeng Cheolsan stepped forward, spreading open a thick ledger. The skin beneath his eyes was drawn and hollow, but there was iron in his voice.

"The one thousand tea drafts we acquired have been sold off in their entirety."

For the past month, Baek Duguang and Naeng Cheolsan had haunted the province of Anhui like ghosts. Under their meticulous direction, the thousand drafts vanished without a trace, and in their place flowed in a river of heavy silver ingots and notes. And today, at last, the work was finished.

"Even after carving out the share owed to Money Master Jo Gyeong-san, the net profit stands at twenty-two thousand nyang."

Twenty-two thousand nyang.

Namgung Cheon gave a slow nod. Thanks to the two men's resourcefulness, the haul had come in a touch more generous than he'd projected. Evading the Merchant Dao Heavens' surveillance and liquidating funds of this scale in a single month bordered on a miracle—though admittedly, a miracle owed to Jo Gyeong-san keeping his mouth shut exactly as promised. More than that, the man had gone beyond mere silence and quietly tipped them off about which routes the syndicate's watchful eyes left unguarded. Apparently he had not forgotten that his life hung on this arrangement.

"Well done."

At Namgung Cheon's brief praise, Baek Duguang laughed, his exhaustion forgotten. "It's all thanks to you, young master. We only ran the errands…… Though I must ask—what do you intend to do with all this money now?"

Baek Duguang swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the ingots and notes. Even with the Gold Pavilion's fortunes much improved, producing this much liquid cash on short notice would have strained them. It was a truly staggering sum. What decision would Namgung Cheon make?

Namgung Cheon rose from his seat and opened a wooden chest. Silver ingots filled it to the brim alongside high-denomination notes. He reached in and closed his fist around a handful of silver.

The weight was dense and cold against his palm. This—this was power. An independent power, free of the clan's oversight, that would move according to his will alone.

And Namgung Cheon had already decided where part of it would go.

"Thirty percent. Seven thousand nyang goes into the Gold Pavilion."

"…Pardon?"

Baek Duguang blinked. "Use this money to grow the Gold Pavilion," Namgung Cheon said, setting the silver in his hand back down upon the table. A bright clang rang through the room.

"Buy more eyes and more ears. Put people in the field who can bring you word from every corner of Anhui, not just Hefei. And……"

Namgung Cheon's gaze turned razor-sharp. "Buy swords to guard the money. In this world of ours, wealth without force is nothing but a fattened pig. Hire masters—men capable of butchering the wolves that will come sniffing at the scent."

He looked Baek Duguang dead in the eye. "And in time, cease to be a mere gang of thugs. Become great merchants who hold information and logistics in the palm of their hand and move them as they please. That is why I am investing this money in you."

Baek Duguang could only stare at him, dumbstruck.

Great merchants. His heart pounded against his ribs. It was a word he hadn't dared even dream of. Yet strangely, coming from Namgung Cheon's mouth, it sounded anything but a fantasy. If he followed this man, he found himself certain, it would not end as nothing more than a dream.

Baek Duguang dropped to one knee right there on the floor. "This Baek Duguang swears—I will return your investment many times over!"

Naeng Cheolsan, too, bowed deeply at the waist. "I will see to the management of the funds and the expansion of the organization. Flawlessly."

Namgung Cheon allowed himself a satisfied smile.

Money could buy a man's service, but it could never buy true loyalty. Genuine loyalty was born only when you showed people a higher place—and planted in them the conviction that they could actually reach it.

A new goal: great merchants. For Baek Duguang, that was worth ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠far more than any coin.

"Keep the rest consolidated in the anonymous account we've been managing at the Nine Dragons Money House."

Namgung Cheon gestured at the remaining chest. Naeng Cheolsan shut his ledger with a snap and answered. "Understood. Though…… with the existing profits and this sum combined, the total is truly enormous. Enough to buy out a decent merchant house whole and still have change to spare."

"I imagine so."

Namgung Cheon stroked his chin, sinking into thought. Wealth grasped by his own power, apart from the clan—it was, in the end, another force that would move at his will alone. It will see plenty of use in the days ahead. Countless obstacles lay along the road he would travel through the jianghu. Before them, this money would serve as a sturdy shield, and at times a keen spear to cleave the way open. Its value was immense.

"Manage it well. I want to be able to draw on it the moment I need it."

"It will be done."

"You've worked hard. I'll return before long."

"Travel safely, young master!"

With Baek Duguang's booming farewell at his back, Namgung Cheon left Geumokru.

Once he was gone, only the two men remained in the chamber, the silver tide lapping at the walls around them. Baek Duguang stared blankly at the chest of ingots, then spoke without warning.

"Cheolsan."

"Yes, Pavilion Chief."

"Do you really think we could become great merchants?"

His usual bluster had vanished entirely; the voice that came out was earnest, and it trembled slightly. Naeng Cheolsan gave a single shrug and began tidying his ledger. His eyes flicked to Baek Duguang for a moment, then returned to the pages.

"Quite possibly, Pavilion Chief—so long as you don't go and do something reckless."

"You wretch, and here I was trying to have a touching moment."

Baek Duguang snorted a laugh and picked up a single silver ingot. The heft of it filled his hand perfectly. He clenched his fist around it.

"Still…… we've got to try, don't we? The young master has laid the whole table for us. Knocking that over wouldn't make us human."

"Precisely."

"Then starting tomorrow, I'll arrange meetings with men we can put to use right away. The kind who can smell money like hounds smell blood."

Naeng Cheolsan snapped his ledger shut once more. Baek Duguang slowly closed the chest of silver.

Thud.

The heavy sound split the air of the room. Baek Duguang's eyes gleamed, sharp and bright. "Right. Let's do this."

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

"So. What will you do with all that money?"

Inside his residence, Mujin asked the question over a cup of wine, seated across the table from him. His eyes brimmed with curiosity.

"Who knows."

Namgung Cheon answered flatly, toying with his cup. He had no intention of laying out his financial plans for Mujin.

"Tch. Boring as ever, aren't you? If it were me, I'd have bought a distillery by now. Or purchased an entire wine house that brews famous vintages and……"

While Mujin chattered away in high spirits, Namgung Cheon's gaze drifted out the window. Moonlight poured in gently over the tranquil grounds of the clan estate. But the calm was only appearance; beneath it, he suspected, the waters were anything but still.

The exhibition match, and now the Ghost Mask Pact. It has been a busy stretch.

The ripples he himself had set in motion were surely churning beneath that placid surface. The awe directed at him, the jealousy, the wariness—all of it was due, little by little, to be settled.

Just then—

Knock, knock.

A knock sounded at the door of his residence. "Young master, it is Namgung Un, Chief Internal Steward. I beg a moment of your time."

"Enter."

The door opened and Namgung Un stepped inside, offering a respectful cupped-fist salute. "Your grandmother requests your presence."

Namgung Cheon asked him, "Do you know why?"

"She did not say."

In other words, he had merely been told to bring him. Namgung Cheon rose without a word and followed.

The moment he stepped outside, the cool night air brushed his cheek. It was not yet deep night, and the servants and warriors moving about the estate were plainly visible. And their eyes turned toward him as if by prior arrangement.

Whispers carried from a distance and lodged themselves clearly at the edge of his hearing—his senses had grown preternaturally sharp as his realm climbed higher.

"……It's the Third Young Master."

"Yes—did you hear what he accomplished in Hunan?"

"Earning the name Azure Sky Sword Hero on his very first outing… perhaps from now on……"

So different from the indifference once shown to a youngest master who had been all but invisible. Noisy, now, aren't we. Namgung Cheon frowned. Frankly, the old indifference was easier to bear than this cumbersome attention. But this, too, was an unavoidable stage of the journey. Even in his past life, when he had set the Demonic Cult ablaze with his deeds, the same murmurs had trailed him everywhere.

Thus, listening to one murmur and another, he arrived at the topmost floor of the Self-Recommendation Pavilion. Jegal Hwa was gazing out the window, a teacup tilted in her hand. Sensing his presence, she turned her head slowly.

"You've come."

"You called for me."

As Namgung Cheon took his seat, Jegal Hwa poured his tea herself. A fragrant aroma filled the room.

"Thanks to you, the whole clan is abuzz." She took a sip of tea and continued. "Even the elders who involve themselves ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in not a single matter of the clan have begun speaking of you."

The elders she spoke of were the true venerables of the Namgung Clan—former elders who had once dominated an era of the martial world. They dwelled in Setting Sun Hall at the westernmost edge of the estate, rarely showing their faces, exchanging only a few words with the Patriarch now and again. Men who had once shaken the entire jianghu with a single sword.

For names like mine to pass their lips… it meant his movements were being taken as things capable of deciding the clan's very fortunes. Namgung Cheon raised his teacup in silence.

"They say they have no doubt of your martial skill, but regret that you yet hold no standing within the clan." Jegal Hwa raised the matter with studied casualness. "So—time you took your place among us, wouldn't you say?"

"And what place would that be?"

"The Jinshan Sword Squadron."

Jegal Hwa's voice was firm. "I intend to place it in your hands."

The Jinshan Sword Squadron—the 'Suppressing Mountain' elite squadron, one of the Cangqiong Four Swords that formed the martial pillar of the Namgung Clan. Any ordinary young master would have accepted such an offer with gratitude; it would be the surest stepping stone toward becoming deputy head of the clan. But Namgung Cheon only took a calm sip of his tea. Then, setting down the cup, he spoke.

"I must decline."

"And your reason?"

Jegal Hwa smiled—a reaction that said she had expected exactly this.

‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"The time is not yet ripe."

Namgung Cheon looked down at his teacup as he went on. "The road I must walk is a long one. Taking command of a sword squadron now would be the same as halting my steps."

For one who had to climb ever higher, the post of squadron commander would be no honor but a shackle at his ankles. Refusal was only natural. At that cool composure, a curious smile tugged at the corner of Jegal Hwa's mouth.

"Just as I thought. Who could hope to match your pace?" She set down her cup. "But the wind you've stirred has blown too fierce, and it's causing trouble. Those who've heard of your exploits are wavering—unable to decide whether the road they've walked all these years was right or wrong, their ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠very swords dulling in the confusion. They say the very foundation of the sword squadrons is shaking."

Jegal Hwa's eyes deepened. "Your father believes this must be addressed."

She added, almost in passing, "So go show those children the way."

"……You mean a sparring match?"

"Call it instructional combat. If you step forward yourself and quell that confusion, you'll win not only the support of the clan's warriors, but silence from the mouths of those elders who whisper about you as well."

The elders harbored a vague unease—wariness that Namgung Cheon's path strayed from the Namgung way. Jegal Hwa meant to use this opportunity to dispel that anxiety and solidify his standing. He had neither pretext nor reason to refuse.

"I understand."

Namgung Cheon rose from his seat. "When shall it be held?"

"The sooner the better. Tomorrow morning."

Jegal Hwa lifted her teacup. "Come to the Great Training Ground. We'll gather all those who wish to face you."

She turned her head slowly to look at her son. "And you must show them. Without fail."

Her voice sank low.

"How high the azure sky stretches at the end of the road they walk."

No part of this book may be used in any form or by any means without the written permission of Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. — Dream Books.

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The Height of the Azure Sky

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