Homecoming (3)
Henan Province had been a vital crossroads since ancient times—and for the Donghwa Merchant Group, it was the bridgehead into the Central Plains.
Shaolin Temple, nestled within the province, was one of Donghwa's principal trading partners. The merchant group's flagship product, Goryeo wild ginseng, was a key ingredient in Shaolin's medicinal pills, and it was an open secret that only the finest grade of ginseng could serve as the raw material for the Great Elixir.
Perhaps that was why, the moment they left Shaanxi and crossed into Henan, Jinmyung's travel conditions changed dramatically. The number of horses drawing the carriage remained the same, but the interior had become far more comfortable.
The seats in the carriage they had ridden through Shaanxi had been cheap affairs, lined with nothing more than sheepskin. Every jolt of the road had slammed straight into Jinmyung and Ak Jun's backsides.
The carriage waiting at the Henan escort agency had been sent by the Donghwa Merchant Group itself. The cushions were stuffed with wool, and the luxury was enough to make them forget the ordeal of the past few days.
"Have you finished sorting everything we received from the escort agency?"
Jinmyung leaned into the corner of the carriage, half-reclining, and looked across at Ak Jun. A stack of letters from Chang'an and Jinan had been waiting at the agency.
Ak Jun was skimming through them at speed, sorting as he went. He seemed not to have heard Jinmyung at all, absorbed in the correspondence.
"Right, right. Keep at it."
The carriage rolled on for a long while. Jinmyung tried to let the vibration of the wheels lull him to sleep.
As his eyes drifted shut, a letter appeared in front of his face—one Ak Jun had passed over.
"What's this? Something urgent?"
"A storyteller's report on the finals of the Mt. Hua Sword Debate, my lord."
"Not interested. Whether it goes this way or that—what does it matter to me?"
"At least look at the expense accounting on the last page."
Faced with Ak Jun's grim expression, Jinmyung sat up properly and took the letter. It was a ledger of the income earned through the storytellers they had stationed at the Chang'an estate for this year's Mt. Hua Sword Debate.
Jinmyung ignored the rough figures and checked only the final profit at the bottom. He handed the letter back to Ak Jun as if nothing were wrong.
"So? Is there a problem?"
"Compared to five years ago, the profit is only sixty percent. Are you satisfied with that?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be? Did you really expect us to make the same as five years ago?"
"I expected at least eighty percent. This is far less than projected. Relative to the effort we put in…"
Jinmyung snorted a laugh.
"Effort? The storytellers doing the talking is the bulk of this business. We just relay the match results and collect the money. At this rate, aren't we basically getting paid for free?"
"We hire freelancers under the Donghwa name. Those freelancers need martial skill high enough to fully describe a match. They have to watch every participant who might reach the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering, so we hired a full thirty of them. Then we need scribes to take their accounts and write the reports…"
"Ah, right. I know there are operating costs involved…"
Jinmyung had no intention of listening to the rest of Ak Jun's grumbling.
"So what you're saying is, we made money, but looking at how fast the profits are shrinking, you're wondering whether we should even keep doing this five years from now."
"…That's correct. We need to decide soon so instructions can reach the storytellers waiting in Chang'an."
"What's your take?"
"If I had to guess at five years from now—I'd say it's time to wind it down."
Jinmyung gave a small shake of his head and asked again.
"What do you think caused the drop in revenue?"
"Hard to say. According to the field reports, there's another outfit hiring storytellers the same way we do. Shall I have them investigated?"
"An investigation means more expenses. Which means even less margin."
"Probably about ten percent of the take."
Jinmyung trusted Ak Jun's quick calculations and even quicker handling of business. If profits fell by half, there would be virtually no margin left.
And unlike last time, they could no longer collect investment capital from the storytellers themselves. Jinmyung looked at Ak Jun again. Ak Jun only stared back with a face that said, So what do we do?
"No need to investigate. We just hand off the business."
"Hand it off?"
"You said a competitor appeared and started splitting the profits. And we don't know much about that competitor. Correct?"
"Yes. For now, my guess is either the Hao Clan or the Beggars' Sect."
Both the Hao Clan and the Beggars' Sect were renowned for their intelligence networks. Both also possessed martial skill sufficient to read a match.
"Well, we have suspicions but no proof… Honestly, any sect could pull this off."
"That's true as well."
"So who do we hand it to?"
Jinmyung asked as if the answer were already obvious, then made to lie back down again.
Ak Jun still looked lost. Jinmyung sighed.
"Come on. I've walked you this far—you're supposed to snap to it and get it."
"I am my lord's hands and feet, not his head."
Well, that's fair enough… Jinmyung thought. Ak Jun's role was to execute the plans Jinmyung conceived in the most efficient way possible.
"Listen carefully. This is a business almost any Murim sect could run. Agreed? So which sect actually controls the Mt. Hua Sword Debate?"
"You're giving the business to the Mt. Hua Sect? Would a Taoist order openly engage in this kind of money-making?"
"Hey—do Taoists not eat and not shit? Any organization is going to spend money. Always."
Ak Jun looked at Jinmyung with an expression that said, Why is my lord so crude? Jinmyung pointedly ignored it.
"Anyway, Mt. Hua only gets half marks."
"Then what's the correct answer?"
"What else? The Murim Alliance."
"What?!"
"The Mt. Hua Sword Debate is hosted by the Mt. Hua Sect, but it's really an event for the entire martial world, and the Murim Alliance oversees it. The Alliance sells snacks and such in the spectator stands and makes a little money, but…"
"In truth, it runs at a loss."
The Mt. Hua Sword Debate was a ceremony to honor the last war and pray for peace among the sects. For that reason, the Murim Alliance had always been willing to absorb a modest deficit.
"If we ask the Murim Alliance to take over the business as-is—storytellers and all—how do the numbers look?"
Ak Jun began calculating in his head. The acquisition price was the question, but by his estimate, the Alliance could expect returns comparable to the last Mt. Hua Sword Debate.
"Set the sale price at double our current margin."
"They won't buy at that price."
"Tell them that in exchange, we'll show them how to eliminate the competition."
"When we don't even know who the competitor is? Ah—you're dumping the investigation costs on the Murim Alliance?"
"No. If they use the Alliance's advantages, it's a simple fix. But we'll need to send a messenger bird quickly… Where are we roughly?"
Jinmyung opened the carriage window and looked around.
"I can see Mount Song. Let's stop at Shaolin Temple. Tell the driver."
"Understood."
Ak Jun noted the faint upward curl at the left corner of Jinmyung's mouth. The deal would go through—he was certain of it.
Among the Nine Great Sects that formed the backbone of the Murim Alliance, each maintained a messenger hawk linked to Alliance headquarters in Chang'an. Jinmyung intended to use a hawk—faster than any pigeon—to propose the deal to the Murim Alliance from Shaolin Temple.
Ak Jun, having already guessed the plan, instructed the driver to head for Shaolin.
Moyong Ran was staying at an inn in Chang'an. Before returning to Liaoning Province, she had come to pay her respects to her uncle, who served in the Murim Alliance.
Her uncle arrived at the inn laden with letters for home and a heap of Shaanxi specialties. Having been away from Liaoning for so long, even his face seemed to have grown thinner and sharper.
"You've come, Uncle."
"Thank you for visiting before your return home, Young Family Head."
Moyong Min, Deputy Strategist of the Murim Alliance, was a man far removed from the Moyong Clan's usual mold. Unlike the other clan members who ruled the wilds of Liaoning with raw martial power, he had been a companion of books since childhood.
His father, Moyong Seong, had been deeply displeased with him. But the eldest son, Moyong Man, had doted on him, saying that Min filled the gaps his brothers left empty. When Moyong Man lost his life, there was no place left for Moyong Min within the clan.
There had even been voices demanding to know what he had been doing while Moyong Man died in an ambush. After that, Moyong Min had left the clan and taken a post with the Murim Alliance.
Moyong Ran studied the face of the uncle who had once spoiled her as a child. He looked like a warhorse that had given everything on the battlefield and come home with a broken ankle.
"By the way—the finals were a pity."
"There is nothing to regret in a match. There is only victory or defeat."
An awkward silence settled between them. Moyong Min sipped his tea and wondered whether this child was truly the niece he had once adored.
It was probably because Moyong Seong had been her master. Blaming himself for not having stayed with the clan, Moyong Min broke the silence.
"A letter has arrived from the clan. It says that if the Young Family Head loses in the finals, she is to become engaged to the victor…"
By order of the Family Head:
Should the Young Family Head fall in the finals of the Mt. Hua Sword Debate, she shall enter into betrothal with the victor of said tournament.
— Sealed with the Family Head's personal stamp
Clack. Moyong Ran set down her teacup and fixed Moyong Min with a frigid stare.
"Changcheon Geomryong—or is it Geomcheonryong now? That man won only because this girl did not unleash the Northern Dipper Divine Fist. I will not acknowledge a loss under the terms of a marriage-by-duel."
"But the letter from the clan bears the Family Head's personal seal."
"……"
It had also been Family Head Moyong Seong's order that she not use the Northern Dipper Divine Fist. Moyong Seong had permitted the technique only once during the entire Mt. Hua Sword Debate—a single form, a single strike.
And she had used that strike on Jinmyung. It had not been during an official match of the tournament, of course, but Moyong Ran considered her duel with Jinmyung part of the Mt. Hua Sword Debate all the same.
"I will send word to the Namgung Clan."
The Namgung people were still celebrating their second consecutive championship with a feast at an inn in Chang'an. Geomcheonryong Namgung Hyeon was spending his days exchanging courtesies with various figures of the Murim Alliance.
Moyong Ran said nothing in reply to her uncle's words. She only drank her tea.