The Price of Twenty Years

Jin Yeongyeong and Dan Seoyeon moved the conversation to the veranda so they could explain the full story behind the misfortune that had overtaken Danga Manor.

The empty estate’s old floorboards groaned and creaked with every step Dan Hyunwoo took, as though the wood itself were screaming.

Twenty years ago, it had never made such sounds.

Dan Seoyeon slipped into the kitchen. When she returned moments later, she carried nothing but a single cup of plain water. After twenty years, there were not even any tea leaves left to offer her older brother.

Dan Hyunwoo took the cup from her and drank it down in refreshing gulps.

“My throat was dry. You noticed and brought water. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to wrap it in pretty words. One look at Danga Manor tells the whole story.”

“It really was parched. I’ve been thirsty for a while.”

“I’ll accept that, then. But Brother, how have you been all these years?”

“I traveled the central plains, handled a few matters. I simply lived.”

“After you disappeared, the house fell into chaos. The whole family searched for you for more than ten years.”

“Is that why Danga Manor ended up like this? Because everyone was out looking for me?”

“That’s not the reason. I only wanted you to know how desperately we worried and searched.”

“I’m sorry. You must have endured a great deal because I was gone. While Father and Mother were looking for me, I fear they may have neglected you.”

Dan Seoyeon pressed her small lips tightly together. She could not bring herself to loudly deny her brother’s words. Their present life was simply too harsh to waste time resenting the past. Yet the truth was that she had once hated her brother fiercely.

The ten years her parents had spent wandering the central plains in search of him had been only a span of time in words, but for Dan Seoyeon they had been a decade of solitary hardship. That resentment still sat like a hard knot deep inside her chest.

The sight of her brother—who had once declared he would become a renowned martial artist of the gangho—returning with the shabby, retired look of someone who had simply withdrawn to the countryside only fed that old bitterness.

In the end, Dan Seoyeon changed the subject.

“Still, Brother, you look remarkably young. If we went out together, people might mistake me for the older sister.”

“That’s impossible. It’s only temporary.”

“Temporary or not, how can a thirty-seven-year-old face have not a single wrinkle?”

“That… is simply how it is. Rather than that, tell me quickly how Danga Manor came to this.”

This time it was Dan Hyunwoo who turned the conversation aside. After mastering the Manmu Shingong, he had at some point simply stopped aging.

Dan Seoyeon studied her brother’s evasive face for a moment, then rose.

“I must go work at the inn now. Ask Mother about everything that happened while you were gone.”

“You work at an inn?”

“We need to eat to live. If we’re lucky, I might bring back leftover food. But don’t expect it. Such days are rare.”

Dan Seoyeon opened the creaking door of Danga Manor and stepped outside.

Dan Hyunwoo remembered how brilliant his little sister had been as a child. Had he never left home, she would likely have received her parents’ full love and attention, studied diligently, and now be living an entirely different life.

Instead, the Dan Seoyeon before him was painfully thin, her body marked everywhere by the traces of hardship.

I’ve wronged you too, Seoyeon. I will repay you without fail.

Dan Hyunwoo turned his gaze to his mother, Jin Yeongyeong. Since this was a story that had to be told eventually, she spoke with quiet composure.

“It is true that after you left, your father and I scoured the central plains looking for you. Even so, we never neglected the management of Danga Manor or the Danhwa Silk Shop.”

“Then how did the manor fall into such a state?”

“The Danhwa Silk Shop was actually thriving. As you know, your father’s business talent was extraordinary. His character was so fine that merchants lined up to trade with him.”

Jin Yeongyeong continued in the same calm tone. She explained that around the time the Danhwa Silk Shop had become the foremost silk merchant in Hangzhou, a rising new firm called the Mokhwa Merchant Group had appeared.

As their name suggested, their main trade was in cotton cloth; they were closer to a general fabric shop than a silk specialist. The problem began when they started dealing in silk as well.

Their silk was vastly inferior in quality to the Danhwa Silk Shop’s. Yet the price was less than half. Even though they were clearly selling at a loss, they held that price and slowly devoured the Danhwa Silk Shop’s market share.

Over time, it became inevitable that the Danhwa Silk Shop’s silk would be pushed aside. No business could survive price competition forever. So the Danhwa Silk Shop, swallowing its own losses, lowered its prices. The Mokhwa Merchant Group lowered theirs again. The Danhwa Silk Shop followed. The prices dropped until even commoners could dream of wearing silk.

The war continued until one side collapsed. One day, in the midst of this ruinous price war, Father went to see the head of the Mokhwa Merchant Group. He believed it was time to talk.

He proposed that continuing the mutual bleeding would leave only debt for both sides, and that they should reach a reasonable compromise. The only answer he received was the Mokhwa leader’s sneer.

It turned out the man had planned from the beginning to destroy the Danhwa Silk Shop—the maker of the finest silk—and then sell inferior goods at high prices. The revelation struck Father like a hammer blow.

The savings they had accumulated had already been poured entirely into the price war. The only option left was to borrow money and hold on until the Mokhwa Merchant Group fell.

That debt became the true disaster. The lenders had first approached them like benevolent supporters of the Dan family. In truth they were wolves wearing sheepskins—vicious men tied to the black-path Murim faction known as the Guryong Sect.

The Father of old would never have made such a mistake. But the shock of the Mokhwa leader’s scheme, the anxiety of possibly losing the family home, and the desperate obsession with protecting a faltering household had clouded his judgment.

After that, crushed beneath the Mokhwa Merchant Group’s continued assault, the mounting deficits, and the crushing interest on the Guryong Sect’s usurious loans, the family collapsed at terrifying speed. The rate at which debt piled up from the silk shop’s losses and the high-interest loans defied imagination.

Even so, Father fought with everything he had. Three years was his limit. Late last year, the man who had continued working despite his heavy body finally collapsed. From that day on he lay in his room in a dazed state, unable to make proper decisions, slowly dying.

When Jin Yeongyeong finished recounting the entire story in her calm, steady voice, Dan Hyunwoo asked with a heavy heart.

“Has the Danhwa Silk Shop been completely ruined?”

“It was taken over by the Mokhwa Merchant Group at an absurdly low price. Not so much ruined as stolen.”

“And this estate?”

“After they took everything else, this manor was all that remained. But it seems we will have to vacate it soon. The Guryong Sect thugs will not leave it alone.”

“I understand the situation now.”

“Hyunwoo, I’m truly sorry that the first news you hear upon returning is all bad.”

“No, Mother. I am the one who should apologize. I should have come back at least once. I lacked the courage, and only now see things clearly.”

Jin Yeongyeong shook her head. There had been a time when she would have gladly lost the entire family fortune if only she could find her runaway son. Her heart had burned so fiercely that she would have offered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her own life to bring him back.

Dan Hyunwoo took his mother’s hand.

“Mother, do not worry anymore. I have returned. Danga Manor will rise again. We will reclaim the Danhwa Silk Shop as well, of course.”

“Those words alone are enough to warm this mother’s heart, my son.”

Jin Yeongyeong took her son’s declaration as nothing more than the brave boasting of a spirited young man. But Dan Hyunwoo was not boasting.

A firm resolve had already begun to kindle a quiet flame in the depths of his chest.

In the Forbidden City, where a crown prince had already been chosen, I placed a mere prince named Ju Untheon upon the throne. I killed the Blood Night Heavenly Demon, the strongest in the world, with my own hands.

There had never been anything he could not accomplish. He would accomplish this as well. Just as he always had.

Dan Hyunwoo rose to his feet.

“I wish to see Father.”

“He may still be sleeping, but it seems you want to see his face at least.”

Jin Yeongyeong led the way, and Dan Hyunwoo followed.

Even after she opened the door, Dan Hyunwoo hesitated once more on the threshold. For the man who had become the greatest under heaven, crossing this particular threshold was not easy—especially because the fight with his father had been the reason he ran away in the first place.

Yet Dan Hyunwoo shook his head. From now on he was the head of the family, the one who must bear responsibility for Danga Manor. Without hesitation he stepped across the threshold.

The father who was supposed to be asleep had opened his eyes at some point. He simply stared vacantly into space with clouded, empty eyes.

The moment Dan Hyunwoo saw him, it felt as if his heart were being torn apart. His upright, handsome father. The proud head of a family whose generous character had helped countless people. That same man could not even recognize the son who had returned after twenty years. He did not even notice that someone had entered the room.

“Father.”

He called out even though he knew there would be no answer—the first time in twenty years. For a moment his breath caught painfully in his throat.

He had guided the Ming Empire into an age of peace and prosperity, yet he was a failure who could not even protect his own family. What in the world had he been doing while his father reached this state?

Regret pressed down on his chest once more, heavier than before.

If only I had asked His Majesty for even the smallest favor…

The emperor would have cared for his family with all his heart and protected them. The thought brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

No. The past is already gone. There is no point dwelling on it. What matters now is the future.

There was still a chance to turn things around. This might well be the last chance. Simply returning home while his parents still lived was already a blessing from heaven.

With that thought, Dan Hyunwoo took his father Dan Yuseon’s pulse. As he closed his eyes and felt the acupoints, meridians, and finer channels, Jin Yeongyeong spoke.

“Hyunwoo, the physicians all said your father’s illness could not be cured. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Even the most famous doctors in Hangzhou shook their heads.”

The doctors had not been wrong. Ordinary physicians could not treat this. By Dan Hyunwoo’s standards, even Hangzhou’s renowned physicians were merely ordinary.

But that person would be able to heal him.

Dan Hyunwoo said to his mother, “Mother, please allow me to write one letter.”

“There is still ink and paper in the study your father used.”

“I will return shortly.”

The study he had not entered in twenty years. This was the room where he had fought with his father and then run away. Nothing inside had changed.

After grinding the ink and writing the letter, Dan Hyunwoo returned to the room and placed his hand on his father’s back. Then he slowly began to infuse his energy.

The energy of the Muya Cheongi—meaning to firmly draw in the qi of the heavens—was fundamentally different from the ordinary internal cultivation methods used by other Murim sects. Its greatest feature was its unbelievable purity. The internal energy accumulated through Muya Cheongi was cleaner than the refined qi drawn from Shaolin’s famed Great Recovery Pill.

Dan Hyunwoo was certain of it. Though the world possessed over ten thousand internal cultivation methods, none produced qi as pure as the Muya Cheongi of the Manmu Shingong. With such energy, he could revitalize his father’s severely weakened life force even without medical knowledge.

It won’t be enough to make him leap from his bed immediately…

But it would buy enough time for the physician he intended to summon to arrive. Perhaps it might even restore some of his father’s condition before then. The power of Muya Cheongi that he had witnessed across countless battlefields was exactly that kind of strength. It was internal energy, yet not internal energy. It did not simply reside in the dantian, pathways, acupoints, or meridians. It permeated every corner of the human body—muscles, blood ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠vessels, every joint. This was why Muya Cheongi had elevated Dan Hyunwoo to the position of the greatest under heaven and allowed him to overwhelm the inner force of the Blood Night Heavenly Demon.

Dan Hyunwoo sat holding his father’s wrist, eyes closed, channeling the Muya Cheongi. It flowed past the wrist, through the fine channels, and gently, warmly swept through every region where turbid energy had gathered. He felt the accumulated impurities begin to scatter.

Just as he had expected. Yet Dan Hyunwoo did not relax. He poured in every ounce of his power. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Because he was not a true physician and his father’s condition was grave, the fear of making even the slightest mistake drove him to give everything he had—perhaps even more concentration than he had shown when facing the Blood Night Heavenly Demon.

Because of that focus, a vivid, healthy color slowly returned to his father’s skin, which had been dark and deathly as though he were already a living corpse. And it did not stop there. A little later, his father’s fingertips began to tremble faintly.

His mother, who had been watching with a puzzled expression, suddenly widened her eyes and swallowed a sharp gasp.

“Hup…?!”

Yet she instinctively understood that she must remain silent, and quiet settled over the room once more.

It was indeed silence.

But within that silence lay a storm of astonishment.

Dan Hyunwoo, who had been channeling the purest energy of all—Muya Cheongi—into his father, opened his eyes and carefully released the wrist he had been holding. At the same time, his father’s eyes, which had seemed frozen in place, slowly turned and met Dan Hyunwoo’s gaze.

Dan Hyunwoo looked into those eyes and smiled for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first time in twenty years. It was a smile so painful it stung the heart.