A Deal with the Young Merchant Lord

Why had the thought come to him so easily?

A possibility like this had always existed, one among any number of others. And he had known for a long time that this world would never show him kindness.

Sssss—

A snake climbed his back, slid down his arm, and came to rest upon Hwa Baek's knee. He laid a hand on the head of Blood Dragon, whose long body was coiled tight and whose eyes had quietly closed, and spoke in a low voice.

"...Right. You were the same."

Looking back, there had already been no shortage of variables he had failed to foresee. Blood Dragon's shrinking had been one. So had Gu Noin's survival, and the timing of Wi Garyeon's appearance.

Those, of course, were variables he could find thoroughly unwelcome. Each was one among countless possibilities that could realistically come to pass, and it fell to Hwa Baek to adjust his plans and carry them out all the same.

This, however, was no variable that stayed within the bounds of what could realistically happen. It was an impossibility, something that could not occur without the intervention of the being that had dragged him into this world.

And the fact that followed from it—

"...is that things like this can happen again."

A massive variable he had never once anticipated could still come to pass. Among the details of the original work he had recorded, some of the information might be wrong.

"......"

Even so, it was still all right for now. Even if the protagonist's gender had changed, a difference of this degree posed no problem for carrying out the plan. And he had no choice. He had to accept it. Fretting over the matter here and now would not let him predict the variables still to come.

Think. What he needed to be thinking about this very moment, and what he needed to do.

The next day.

With the preliminaries finished, the Sichuan Martial Tournament announced that it was truly beginning by loosing signal beacons into the sky.

Waaaaah—!!!

The fierce cheers of martial artists and spectators shook the grounds. A great fortune had been poured into the event, and the warriors' stage had been prepared to match: nine platforms in all, with one especially enormous dueling stage set at the center.

Those whose turns had not yet come were finishing their preparations in the waiting room. Now and then a few nearly came to blows over some slight, but with the matches about to begin, none of them seemed eager to waste their strength, and more than a few were visibly swallowing their tempers.

A man who boasted a massive frame soothed the one beside him, his face mild.

"You held it in well, Bi. Fight at the wrong moment, and you'd have thrown away a fine opportunity."

"...No, Brother Paeng. If it weren't for you, I couldn't have endured it."

Namgung Bi, youngest master of the Namgung Clan, a young swordsman only just stepped out into the jianghu. Paeng Mugang, eldest son of the Hebei Paeng Clan and its next young clan head. Sworn brothers, the two of them had been insulted only moments ago by a martial artist who went by the epithet Coral-Severing Saber Guest.

What were pampered brats, who had grown up on the backs of their families' prestige and never suffered a day in their lives, even doing in a place like this? The haves, come to snatch what belonged to the have-nots. The man had been a little drunk, and to Namgung Bi, who was still young, the words had struck with a sincerity that bored straight into the heart.

"...Brother Paeng. There's something I want to ask."

"Go on."

"Have you ever heard talk like that?"

"I have."

"How did you respond?"

"I endured it. Looked at a certain way, it's the truth."

Namgung Bi let his head droop and sighed.

"...I suppose it is. A flower raised in a greenhouse. The words fit me too well."

"Don't dwell on it too deeply. What that saber guest said may be true, but all you have to do is make it false."

"......"

Paeng Mugang understood how Namgung Bi felt, a youth taking his first steps into the murim. He had been through the same thing himself, and perhaps most martial artists of the great clans had known something similar.

"Remember this. So long as you are direct blood of the Namgung, you must be able to laugh off an insult of that degree. Of course, if someone speaks in a way that shames the clan, you must never endure it."

Namgung Bi, who had been pressing a vow down inside himself, answered with spirit.

"Yes!"

"Your turn will come soon, so ready yourself. And later, don't forget to thank the left-handed swordsman who helped us."

"I understand. I'll be sure to repay him handsomely."

A short while ago, Namgung Bi and the Coral-Severing Saber Guest had come within a breath of a brawl. Whether by design or by accident, a swordsman had shoved the man's shoulder and nearly sent him sprawling. He had apologized as he passed, calling it a mistake, but the jolt had sobered the drunken saber guest, who returned to his seat grumbling and fuming. Had it not been for that swordsman, blades might have been drawn right there in the waiting area.

Namgung Bi asked, his face dubious.

"But Brother Paeng. The way I saw it, it really was chance. If we apologize out of nowhere, won't he find it strange?"

"It doesn't matter. More important than gratitude is forging a tie with the man. Who's to say? For all we know, he might be an incredible master."

"Oh... now that I think of it, you're right. I'll keep it in mind."

"Good. Keep it in mind. Trifling acts like that can help not only the you of later days, but the clan as well."

"Yes!"

Finished speaking, Paeng Mugang rose to his feet. The very next match was his.

At his side, Wi Garyeon asked.

"What number are you?"

"Three. The very next turn."

"That's really soon. I'm a hundred and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠five."

The bracket was set at random ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠according to the number on the token one held. Hwa Baek and Wi Garyeon had been split nearly to opposite ends of the order, so even if they met, it could only be in the finals.

Realizing she would face him there, Wi Garyeon spoke with a grim face.

"Be ready. I won't lose in the finals."

Hwa Baek answered, his expression blank.

"...Is that so."

A reaction more tepid than she had expected. Wi Garyeon frowned at it.

"Why are you reacting like that? Did I say something strange?"

He considered for a moment, then spoke as if explaining himself.

"...No. I'm simply no good at honeyed words, so I can't easily tell someone to take heart over something that has no chance of happening."

Wi Garyeon's face stiffened hard. She had known it already, but having it confirmed put a crack through her pride.

"...What an unpleasant man."

She said it with her face scrunched, but in truth she knew. As she was now, she could not beat Hwa Baek even if she died and woke again. Yesterday's spar had been worse than one-sided. It had been overwhelming, closer to a lesson than a match. Having crossed swords with him herself, Wi Garyeon had no choice but to admit it, and she admitted as well that careless words from him might amount to nothing but deceit.

But because of that, she could see something else.

"But you know what?"

".....?"

"You talk that cold, and still you look out for me, Young Hero."

"......"

"Saying you don't do honeyed words means you only ever say what's true, right? You've never once gotten angry at me. So all of that was sincere?"

"...That's right."

"And it's been like this since yesterday. You haven't done anything wrong to me, and yet you grant every request I make, and you tell me it's fine no matter what I mess up."

"......"

A sharp observation. Hwa Baek thought so, and hid the complicated feeling that rose in him.

...You haven't done anything wrong to me. She says.

Yes. Perhaps that was exactly why. The sin he would one day commit against her was not something this paltry consideration could ever buy forgiveness for.

......

Hwa Baek turned it over.

Deceit.

Consideration.

Ha. Consideration.

What in the world have I been doing all this time?

I shouldn't have.

I should never have let the words that I had shown Wi Garyeon consideration leave her mouth.

Hwa Baek shot up from his seat and headed for the dueling stage.

Paeng Mugang let out a breath thick with tension.

"Hoo......"

Four times now he had come out into the jianghu and faced a martial tournament, and private spars beyond those he had been through more times than he could count. By now he ought to have grown used to it, and yet his heart still pounded every time he stepped up to fight. He himself found it thoroughly displeasing, but his father had said it was a good sign.

The martial way may be enjoyed. But one must never enjoy the fight.

Paeng Mugang had carried that small saying of the father he revered inside a vast heart.

He climbed the steps and took his place upon the stage. Looking ahead, he fixed his gaze on his opponent.

And—

"...Ha. What a ridiculous coincidence."

Seeing the left-handed swordsman who had, without meaning to, helped Namgung Bi a short while ago, he drew up the corner of his mouth in a smile.

"You know me?"

The question came from the man with a sword hung at his right hip. Hwa Baek.

Paeng Mugang answered, hearty and loud.

"Of course I know you! You're the one who helped us earlier, aren't you!"

"I helped you...?"

"As for what you helped us with, I'll tell you once the match is over! Come, then! Let's have at it!"

Hwa Baek spoke with a reluctant look.

"...Fine. For now."

"I'm in your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠care!"

With Paeng Mugang's vigorous voice, the saber at his waist came free. Hwa Baek drew his sword in his left hand and settled into a form suited to an ordinary left-handed style.

For the time being, he had decided to wield the sword with his left hand alone, and not as twin blades. The reason was to draw a clear line between Hwa Baek and the White-Faced Sword Ghost. The renown he built at the Sichuan Martial Tournament, and the new epithet that would come of it, must have not the slightest connection to the White-Faced Sword Ghost. Making the two be recognized as entirely different beings — that was his aim.

At the referee's word, Paeng Mugang circulated internal energy through his sturdy lower body. Muscle woke. He gripped the saber's hilt as if to crush it.

THUD—!!

A heavy step, wrought of enormous internal energy and muscle. An impact ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠capable of rocking the stage in an instant was impossible for anyone short of a superhuman who had transcended the limits of an ordinary man. That he had achieved it meant Paeng Mugang had reached the realm called the domain of the superhuman — the Peak Realm.

"I'll go all out from the start!!"

From Paeng Mugang's saber rose a clean, ash-grey qi. The energy did not stop at the edge. It spread across the whole of the blade and laid a subtle pressure on the space before him. The feeling of a tiger standing right before one's eyes — the art whose very foundation was to evoke that feeling was the Hebei Paeng Clan's saber method, the Five Tiger Gate-Severing Saber.

"Hoo......"

Was it the tension? Or had he sensed, from the opponent before his eyes, something chilling that was not qi at all? Having unleashed his full strength from the outset, unlike his usual self, Paeng Mugang blinked to wet his eyes before he swung. He felt nothing at all from the man in front of him, and yet somehow even the blink of an eye seemed like something he ought to treat with care.

"Good instincts."

His expectation was not wrong.

The moment Hwa Baek took a single step. The moment the sword gripped in his left hand moved, slow and smooth.

Thuck.....

...CLANG—!

The sound of flesh parting and the sound of a blade being beaten aside rang out as one.

"Kh—...!!"

Paeng Mugang clutched at his own pierced belly.

And the match was over.