The Gambit at Hwawollu
Do you know which organization puts the most effort into gathering intelligence within the Beggars' Gang? The orthodox sects or the Five Great Clans of a similar stripe, or perhaps the Murim Alliance? The Evil Alliance, a confederation of unorthodox factions standing at the polar opposite of the Murim Alliance? The Heavenly Demon Cult, leader of the demonic path and the principal enemy of the Central Plains' murim?
None of them. The answer is Haomun—the place that reigns alongside the Beggars' Gang as one of the two great heads of the intelligence world.
Every sect invests the greatest effort into understanding its competitors, and the Beggars' Gang is no different. Which is to say, it was inevitable that I, having rolled around in the Beggars' Gang for ten years, would be well-versed in all manner of information about Haomun.
The Beggars' Gang, symbolizing righteousness and chivalry. Haomun, symbolizing cunning and scheming. I knew that these two vastly different sects were actually quite similar in many respects. Call it all streams returning to the same origin.
If what I needed in my past life was the Beggars' Gang, then what I needed in this life was Haomun. In this life, I had far more to conceal than to uncover, so Haomun's cunning and scheming would prove immensely useful. Of course, I could not afford to grow too close to them—I aimed to become the Murim Alliance Leader someday, after all.
In any case, I intended to use Haomun to conceal, as much as possible, what I possessed and what I would come to possess. The Beggars' Gang had Haomun thoroughly mapped out, but paradoxically, Haomun was also one of the few organizations capable of operating beneath the Beggars' Gang's watchful eyes.
"Welcome."
Hwawollu. An upscale tavern located a fair distance from the Dancheon Clan estate. The moment I stepped inside, a servant of the establishment approached with impeccable formality.
Ting.
"Your finest room."
With those words, I flicked a gold ingot into the air. This much was more than enough to pass as the attitude of an arrogant young master from a prestigious martial clan. The servant snatched the gold ingot and tucked it away, then bowed deeply.
"We shall serve you with the utmost devotion."
"Good."
Watching the servant's back bend at a perfect right angle, I broke into a full bloom of a smile. Through this seemingly theatrical exchange, I had discerned one thing: that servant had trained in martial arts. I had expected as much. After all, this place's true identity was the Haomun Anhui branch, which oversaw all intelligence in Anhui City.
The Righteous Blood Beggars' Gang teaches that there is no nobility or baseness among people, but I knew all too well that the world of jianghu divided men by wealth, force, and station.
"Whatever you're most confident in."
At those words, every delicacy from mountain and sea, along with the finest wines, was laid before me. The gold ingot I'd tossed to the servant played its part, but the likelier reason was that they already knew who I was.
"Not bad."
Honestly, I wasn't sure how natural I looked right now. The Dancheon Myeong of my past life had never set foot in an upscale tavern. Having lost the succession contest at twenty and turned my back on the clan, the opportunity simply never arose. The same held true during my days as Myeong-gae. Where would a beggar have business at an upscale tavern?
Ah, well—there was one occasion. For Myeong-gae, upscale taverns were a last resort during my White-Robed Beggar days, visited only to scrounge for scraps. These places threw away plenty of food, and while they'd wear expressions that said that wretched beggar's back again, they'd reluctantly hand over leftovers all the same.
But there were reasons it remained a last resort. First, most upscale taverns had ties to Haomun, and Beggars' Gang pride forbade begging on their premises. Second, one wrong step could land you in the hands of someone with a twisted temperament and a thorough beating to boot.
But to outsiders, my visit here as Dancheon Myeong, second son of the prestigious martial clan that ruled Anhui City, would seem perfectly natural. Surely the second son of a prestigious martial clan would have been enjoying wine and delicacies at upscale taverns since childhood.
Slurp, slurp, slurp.Gulp.
"Ahh."
An exclamation of appreciation escaped me unbidden. Compared to the cheap, murky swill I'd often drunk as Myeong-gae, the aroma and taste of this Jiannanchun—fit to be called the king of white liquors—was simply superb. Money really did make the difference.
"A greenhorn brat who hasn't even grown his whiskers yet, drinking in broad daylight."
My gaze shifted toward a voice far too distinct to be mere muttering. This was one of Hwawollu's upper floors, frequented only by those confident in their wealth and standing. Sure enough, a middle-aged man in fine silk garments was glaring at me with a flushed face.
Accidents were always caused by those who'd achieved only mediocre success.
"Good sir. Was that remark directed at me?"
I asked with a sardonic smile.
"Hmph. Why? Was I wrong?"
I couldn't fathom why a man already thoroughly drunk would pick a fight with someone who'd only just begun drinking. Well, it didn't matter. This fellow might just serve as an excellent pretext.
"What? Are you asking for a fight?"
As I approached him, the middle-aged man assumed a stance. He'd apparently learned some martial arts—his qi posture was reasonably natural. But—
"Guest, that will be quite enough."
A servant of Hwawollu appeared without a sound and took position behind the middle-aged man.
"What? You're taking the side of that whelp over me, a regular patron? Do you have any idea how much money I've poured into this place!"
The middle-aged man's fury redirected from me to the servant. Despite his rude demeanor, the servant maintained a smile and continued speaking.
"That gentleman is the second son of the Dancheon Sword Clan."
"What?"
At those words, the middle-aged man froze solid. I say again: the Dancheon Clan was the prestigious martial clan that ruled Anhui City. Even the famous Namgung bastards couldn't treat our clan with the same insolence this man had shown, and his flushed face turned deathly pale in an instant.
"If the guest so desires, we shall not intervene."
With those words, the servant looked down upon the middle-aged man. No matter how I looked at it, this was not the bearing of a mere servant.
"But could you bear the consequences?"
With that remark, the servant delivered the finishing touch.
"Ahem."
Offering no reply, the middle-aged man suddenly began straightening his clothes and spoke.
"The food here isn't what it used to be. I shall not be returning."
With that, the middle-aged man flounced off and vanished in an instant.
"My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience."
The servant, never losing that pleasant smile, offered an apology.
"It's quite alright."
A shame. I'd thought that if I could get into a proper confrontation with that fellow, I might use it as an excuse to easily arrange a meeting with the pavilion master. Well, it wasn't as though I had no other way.
"I'd like to see the pavilion master."
There was always the straightforward approach, wasn't there? I was the second son of the Dancheon Clan, after all.
"I'm afraid that would be difficult. My apologies, guest."
The master of any ordinary upscale tavern would have rushed out to greet me at the mere mention of the Dancheon Clan, but this establishment's pavilion master was a hard one to move. I understood why. The pavilion master of Hwawollu—Yeo Wol. She was a power broker of such renown that she had her sights set on becoming the next Haomun leader.
Had I not known she was here, would I have bothered coming to this place in the first place? Upscale taverns were a dime a dozen around the Dancheon Clan estate.
"I shall apologize again on behalf of the guest's earlier rudeness. We won't charge for today's meal, so please do calm your displeasure."
He seemed to think I wanted to see the pavilion master to lodge a complaint. And the reason he was being so deferential was, as he himself had mentioned, because I was the second son of the Dancheon Clan. I would need to clear up this misunderstanding.
"I've come to pass information about Geom Bigak to the Pavilion Master of Hwawollu."
"Pardon?"
"Simply relay that message."
With that, I returned to my seat and took another sip of Jiannanchun.
"Ahh."
God, this was good.
The response was immediate.
"This way, please."
The topmost floor of Hwawollu, off-limits to outsiders. Following the servant through a maze-like corridor, I was finally granted a private audience with the Pavilion Master of Hwawollu.
"You wished to see me?"
"A pleasure."
A veil obscured her features, making it impossible to confirm her appearance precisely, but I could tell she was quite a young woman.
"And to what do I owe the visit from the second son of the Dancheon Clan?"
Haomun folk really were slippery. Even after I'd mentioned Geom Bigak by name, she was playing innocent. Sometimes I missed those shameless beggars who were rude to your face and behind your back alike. In any case, what mattered was this: in a game like this, whoever revealed their hand first entered at a disadvantage.
"Nothing you're curious about regarding me?"
I cast out the bait.
"Weren't you the one who sought me out first, young master?"
The pavilion master parried.
"Then it seems I've come to the wrong place."
With that, I made to rise. Just as I reached for the door—
"Wait."
Her words stopped me in my tracks, and she let out a deep sigh.
"Fine. You win. I apologize for the discourtesy."
A smile spread across my face, my back turned to her. Of course it did. I had dangled a morsel she couldn't help but snap at. This had been a fight she could never win from the start. She'd merely been probing, judging me to be a green pup not yet past his majority—but she was sorely mistaken.
Hearing her declaration of surrender, I returned to my seat.
"Shall we skip the pointless posturing and have a productive conversation?"
"An excellent idea."
Today's conversation would indeed be very productive. For both of us.
"I won't ask how the second son of the Dancheon Clan came to be so well-versed in Haomun's affairs."
"Wise of you."
Never revealing your sources was the unwritten law of every intelligence organization. An informant whose channels were exposed didn't survive long.
"You said you had information on Geom Bigak to offer?"
"I did."
I nodded. Currently, Haomun had five branch masters. The two most likely candidates for the next leader were Yeo Wol and Geom Bigak, and I had come to Yeo Wol among them. The reason being: I knew from my days as Myeong-gae that she would rise to become the next Haomun leader.
I had no desire for the future I knew to change drastically. I simply wanted to dip a toe into someone's success. As with Yang Su-rin, so with Yeo Wol. This too would serve as a stepping stone toward becoming the Murim Alliance Leader. And along the way, I'd acquire what I currently needed as well.
In any case, she could hardly afford to dismiss information about her rival. This was likely the very period when the contest for the next leadership was beginning to intensify.
"Would you share this information about Geom Bigak? If so, I shall offer compensation commensurate with its value."
Information's worth was fluid. She seemed determined to appraise the current value of what I'd brought. When a Haomun branch master spoke of commensurate compensation, worthwhile information would fetch a price that didn't disappoint.
However.
"I don't have any."
"Pardon?"
"It was a jest. How would I know anything about Geom Bigak?"
I could sense her expression hardening behind the veil.
"Do you know who I am, and you're still playing games with me?"
"I do."
I studied her expression behind the veil.
"You're not the Pavilion Master of Hwawollu."
At such an obvious answer, she let out a stifled laugh. But this was far from over.
"Your true name is Yeo Wol."
Her laughter died.
"You are one of Haomun's five branch masters."
Her expression froze.
"And you are Geom Bigak's rival—the one who will seize the seat of the next Haomun leader."
At last, I could feel utter shock etched across her face.
"Is that sufficient?"
In contrast, my expression brightened. This, surely, was the composure of one who held the initiative.
"Yeo Wol, branch master of Haomun. Won't you make a deal with me?"
The board was set.
"I believe it could prove a great asset in your bid to become the Haomun leader."
Behind the veil, Yeo Wol's face nodded up and down, quite against her will.