What Kind of Hospitality Is This?

The meaning of a gift is unmistakable. In every nation, every culture, every corner of the world, a gift is an expression of affection. Those who receive one — man or woman, young or old — are delighted.

Jo Hae, however, looked distinctly unimpressed.

"What's with the gift?"

"Gold, sent in the name of Hoga Jangju..."

"Gold? You're calling that a gift?"

Jo Hae's eyebrows shot up. Gang Ok, who had carried the gold in, shrank back.

Haomen. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A gathering of those from life's lower rungs, perhaps — but they were still lives lived on the blade's edge of the martial world. Anyone who rose to command an entire province possessed formidable martial arts of their own. Jo Hae, contrary to appearances, was an expert of the Peak Realm.

Under that razor-edged presence, Gang Ok's face went rigid.

"Why did you accept it?"

Jo Hae bit his lip.

"Of all things, gold. Anyone who looks at this would think..."

It's a bribe.

He barely swallowed the rest of the sentence. His mind was spinning. A sudden gold offensive? This was no gift. It was a bribe. Hoga Jangju was offering a bribe to a Haomen branch leader. What did that mean?

Alarm bells rang in Jo Hae's mind.

"Send it back to Hoga Manor immediately, and bury this completely."

"Understood."

"This is... I have a feeling..."

This isn't Hoga Jangju's bribe.

Jo Hae understood it by instinct.

"This is the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven's handiwork."

That unreadable face. The serpentine cunning hidden beneath a smile. The image of Sun Wukong rose in his mind, and he was certain.

"Stay on high alert. Mobilize every asset we have. Don't miss a single move from Hoga Manor — or from the Great Sage behind them! They started this, so we have no reason to hold back. Who they meet, what they do — watch every last thing."

"Then what about the gold?"

"We cannot accept it, and we cannot even be known to have received it. Send the gold back — through the largest escort agency in Hefei."

"An escort agency?"

It was barely across the street. A single burst of qinggong would get you to Manhyangru in less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. They weren't even sending it to another town. Why consign the gold to an escort agency?

"It's about leaving a trail."

"Ah... I see!"

"Escort agencies keep meticulous records. This way, we'll have proof we sent it back."

"As expected..."

Gang Ok's eyes lit up. This was why the man had become branch leader at such a young age. Gang Ok himself had been so preoccupied with simply returning the gold that he hadn't thought any further.

"And that's not all. Pick fights with Hoga Manor's businesses."

"Pick fights?"

"Use our connections in the government, throw as many people at it as you need — make it obvious to anyone watching that we and Hoga Manor are at each other's throats."

"Understood."

Gang Ok grasped it easily enough. Draw a line with Hoga Manor. Stamp that image into the minds of everyone around them. Leave a record of every action. He bowed his head at the commands that flowed from Jo Hae as naturally as water.

"I will carry out your orders."

Having issued every order ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that came to mind, Jo Hae's face clouded with frustration.

"Whatever you're plotting, I won't be so easily played."

Sun Wukong's mischievous grin flickered before his eyes, pressing down on his chest like a weight.

"Don't take it back. Keep sending more."

"But..."

"No, wait. They sent it back through an escort agency? Not bad — they're using their heads. In that case, no point sending it back to the same place that already refused it."

"What?"

"Pick out everyone in Haomen who's climbing the branch leader's ladder and shower them all with gold. Some of them are bound to take it."

"...D-do you have any idea how large the branch leader's faction is? What if every last Haomen dog takes it? That's an enormous amount of gold!"

"Just do it. You've made plenty of money, haven't you? Gold just sitting around turns into shit. Shit. Money's meant to be spent."

That's not your money — that's MY money, you bastard.

"And make it look convincing when you spread it around."

"What does 'convincing' even mean when you're throwing money around...?"

"Hand it over at the front door, nice and obvious. And if they throw a fit and refuse, just slip it in through the back."

"Then... the gold they sent back through the escort agency will look like nothing but a smokescreen?"

Hoga Jangju's brow furrowed. His face was already vicious enough; twisting it like that made him look like a demon. Sun Wukong didn't so much as blink.

"What?"

"Just what is all this supposed to be?"

"What else? A bribe offensive."

"That's exactly what I mean. I cannot for the life of me understand why we're bribing anyone — and using Hoga Manor's own assets to do it..."

A look of genuine incomprehension crossed Hoga Jangju's face. He began to think it through, turning the pieces over in his mind.

Come to think of it, Sun Wukong had been sharpening his blade against Haomen from the very start. What had been the first order he'd given Hoga Manor? Drive Haomen out of Anhui Province completely. And after returning to Anhui, he had already clashed with them once. Hoga Jangju had seen it with his own eyes — the men who'd come from Haomen walking out after meeting Sun Wukong, their faces twisted in fury.

Hoga Jangju had privately hoped the fighting with Haomen would stop. Warring with Haomen was truly exhausting work. In a single month he had felt himself age ten years. His thick, bushy hair had been his one remaining source of pride even as he grew older — and lately it had started falling out in clumps.

This man doesn't seem the type to make friends with Haomen.

The talks had clearly fallen apart. The atmosphere at the time had left no room for doubt. And yet after that, Sun Wukong had started sending gold to Jo Hae directly, in Hoga Manor's name. Anyone could see it was a bribe. At a glance, it looked for all the world like a declaration of surrender.

This man, surrendering?

Hoga Jangju snorted. Even he had been suspicious of what this was supposed to be — so how much more so would Jo Hae be? The gold they sent had come right back. And still Sun Wukong issued his orders without the slightest hesitation. He even doubled down.

"Keep sending it. And slip in something about hoping they'll take good care of that matter we mentioned before. Let's see... should we send ours through an escort agency too?"

"...Pardon?"

"Ah, and while we're at it, throw in a subtle hint that we'd be happy to host him at Manhyangru again, just like last time."

"That's..."

"Don't just send it to Jo Hae. Send some to the officers on either side of him too — Gang Ok, Yang Jeok, people like that. Make it look like you're being discreet, but leave a trail they can actually follow. You know what I mean?"

By then, Hoga Jangju was beginning to see the picture Sun Wukong had painted. A master of the night who had ruled the shadowy back alleys for years, he recognized the method at once. It was a trick used often enough among the unorthodox sects.

"This is... you're creating traitors?"

"See? I knew a man who clawed his way to the top by stabbing people in the back would catch on. That's a nasty mind you've got. Maybe you should start offering some prayers and living a little more virtuously, hmm?"

Hoga Jangju shut his mouth.

If I'm that underhanded, what does that make the man who cooked up this whole scheme?

The indignant voice surged up from somewhere deep inside him. Of course, he was neither young enough nor foolish enough to let it past his lips. He was far too seasoned for that.

Well. Things have already come this far...

Hoga Jangju had already boarded the same boat as Sun Wukong. He moved as the man commanded. There had been a fleeting moment of temptation — he was so frustrated he had briefly considered flipping the table — but that was a common enough feeling. The wretched impulse of a subordinate thinking, My boss is a real piece of work. What if I just... wrecked the whole thing?

Fine. If this is how it's going to be, then this man's plans had better succeed.

Greed gleamed in Hoga Jangju's eyes.

This is my chance to skim a fat share of the crumbs from the power he's building.

He nodded with a look of grim resolve.

"Leave it to me. This kind of work ought to be handled by a professional, don't you think?"

"You understand the picture completely?"

"Of course."

"Then I've sketched the outline. I'll leave the brushwork and the coloring to you, Jangju. I've got a finishing touch to put on this thing."

Handing off the work did not mean Sun Wukong intended to step away entirely. What completes a painting? The beautiful lines and planes drawn by the brush. The five-colored hues that fill the spaces in between. All of it matters — but the single thing that most elevates a painting's worth is just one: the seal. Even an ordinary picture rises in value if a famous master has inscribed a verse upon it, or stamped it with his seal. Sun Wukong intended to put the dragon's eye on this painting.

"Where's Haomen's base?"

"Their base? It used to be on the outskirts, if only to stay out of the Namgung Clan Estate's line of sight. But with the Grand Assembly coming up and the conflict with our Hoga Manor, they've moved into Hefei itself."

"So they're in Hefei. That right?"

"That's correct, but..."

A flicker of unease crossed Hoga Jangju's eyes. He could not fathom why Sun Wukong was suddenly asking after the Anhui branch's headquarters. No — he could guess. It was simply that the reason he guessed at was too terrible to contemplate.

"Surely you don't mean to attack the Anhui branch?"

"This is the great martial world too, isn't it?"

Sun Wukong's breezy reply made Hoga Jangju's eyes go wide. A direct strike on the Anhui branch. That had never even been on the table as an option.

"Attacking Haomen directly means drawing your sword against Haomen's main headquarters!"

"Come on, don't blow it out of proportion."

Sun Wukong's lazy, almost playful tone left Hoga Jangju speechless. He said it as if it were nothing at all — so much so that even Hoga Jangju briefly wondered if he had been making too much of it.

"Wasn't the whole point of this scheme that you didn't want to see blood?"

The picture Sun Wukong was painting. Hoga Jangju had seen through it easily enough. Not a plan to crush them with force, but a serpent's way — to coil around them in the dark and swallow them whole. Sun Wukong striking in person was an entirely different painting.

"It's part of the picture."

"I don't understand."

"There's something humans always get wrong. They think if you just set a decent trap along the path, the beast will walk right into it."

"..."

"Not even close. Beasts are craftier than you'd think. They're fighting to survive every single day, so they're so quick it barely registers."

"And that beast is Haomen?"

"At least the branch leader I met is."

Sun Wukong admitted it honestly. Overestimating an opponent reduces mistakes far more than underestimating one. If you overestimate someone, prepare for everything, and then fight — the worst you'll feel is a hollow sense that you put in too much work. Underestimating them is another matter entirely.

"I've seen no end of strong idiots who looked down on someone and ended up dead. In the Heavenly Realm. In the mortal world. I was like that myself, when I was young."

Better to overestimate. It might be tiring, but it beat the alternative of underestimating someone and watching everything go wrong. Sun Wukong was no reckless brute. If he had simply charged around trusting in his divine power and his tricks, could he have turned the Heavenly Realm upside down the way he had? Never. Behind that endlessly playful face, Sun Wukong possessed a mind so sharp it bordered on brilliance — the product of two masters, Patriarch Subhuti and Tang Sanzang.

"So we have to create an environment where Haomen will stick their own necks into the noose we've laid out."

Hoga Jangju's mouth slowly fell open. At last he was beginning to understand what Sun Wukong was saying.

"Make them believe that walking into the noose is the only way they survive."

Make them believe it is their only path to survival.

"If we smash them badly enough that they genuinely think they're about to die, that should do it."

A smile touched Sun Wukong's lips. It was a remarkably bright smile — the kind of mischievous grin that would smooth the scowl off even a sworn enemy's face. And yet Hoga Jangju found that smile truly terrifying.

Every member of Haomen was woven into the fabric of daily life. The waiter at an inn. The courtesan in a pleasure house. The day laborer on a worksite. The porter in the street. The destitute peddler on the roadside.

That did not mean they had nowhere to gather. A base. Each branch's headquarters existed as a physical space. However much Haomen might be a sect of street-level lives, the fact remained that they were a genuine pillar of the martial world.

And so, at the Anhui branch's headquarters — a three-story inn — Haomen's experts stood thick as a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forest. There were ordinary customers as well, of course. A necessary part of the disguise. But the moment a martial artist stepped through the door, Haomen observed them with their information network and their razor-sharp intuition.

And now. That same scrutiny fell upon the golden shadow that kicked the inn's door open and strode in as if he owned the place.

"...!"

Even with Sun Wukong's entrance, the inside of the inn remained unchanged. People talked loudly, drank, ate. Sun Wukong grinned.

Human senses are limited to the five. But the moment one trains without cease, attains enlightenment, and forges a path of one's own, those five senses pierce through into a sixth. That, however, is the clear limit of what a human being can aspire to.

Sun Wukong was different. He had been born already formed as a being of supreme, self-wrought existence. He had reached the extreme of the five senses in his days as a stone monkey, and attained the sixth in the moment he first roared. And now, having risen to the realm of Buddhahood —

At a glance, no one was looking at Sun Wukong. Just the curious glances of people thinking a peculiar stranger, a new customer, had appeared. In that perfectly ordinary, perfectly natural flow, Sun Wukong expanded his senses.

They were sharp, all right. He could feel the gazes that made no sound, left no trace, and yet swept over him, stared him down, analyzed him, and tore him apart. Between those gazes, hurried footsteps and restless movement. Even the faint clink of metal.

See? Overestimating them really is the better call.

Sun Wukong wore a faint smile. And at the same time, a feeling of certainty surged up within him.

This land of Anhui. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The land where Sanzang is. The land of the bond I must find and protect.

A place that ought to be ruled by Sun Wukong's palm, Sun Wukong's sight, Sun Wukong's every sense. He could not leave unchecked any movement that dug through such a place beyond his control.

In Anhui, Haomen either disappears...

Or.

Becomes thoroughly mine.

It was a matter of choice. Choose, and it would be so.

Sun Wukong grinned, feeling every hidden gaze turned upon him — the hostility, the curiosity, the wariness, every last sharpened emotion.

BOOM.

The iron staff drove into the floor with a heavy, resonant thud, planted as firmly as if it had taken root. In that instant, the gazes that had been so thoroughly concealed flushed with shock and laid themselves bare.

Meeting those eyes, Sun Wukong spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world.