Chapter 79
Chapter 79
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 79
Chapter Title: Wuchang
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Dang Mujin and Namgung Myeong turned west and arrived in Wuchang, Hubei's largest city, after just four days. It was thanks to deploying lightness skills intermittently in sparsely populated areas.
Wuchang was a major transportation hub. A few days' walk could take one to Henan, Anhui, Jiangxi, or Hunan.
Just as Luoyang had an unusual number of martial artists due to the Murim Alliance headquarters, Wuchang teemed with merchants from every corner of the Central Plains.
No, it wasn't just the Central Plains. Here and there were merchants from Dai Viet, their skin dark and chin beards thick and unkempt.
Merchants would pull their carts along, but if they spotted something appealing on another cart, they'd buy and sell right there on the spot.
Rookie traders might hesitate, wary of counterfeits, but the merchants of Wuchang trusted their own sharp eyes without a second thought.
Some, having wrapped up the day's business, headed to inns with notably lighter steps.
Dang Mujin and Namgung Myeong wanted to return to an inn and idle away a day or so, but there was business to attend first. Checking their funds and calculating the boat fare to Sichuan.
The two poked around, surveying the surroundings, before slipping into a quiet alley and sitting face-to-face.
"Brother Myeong. Let's pool our money first."
"Understood."
Namgung Myeong readily upended his money pouch.
What spilled out were a mere twelve copper coins.
Dang Mujin had never once seen silver or gold fragments in Namgung Myeong's pouch.
Yet their meal expenses were always covered by Namgung Myeong, and while the coin count fluctuated, it never hit rock bottom.
Enter an inn with ten coins, hand fifteen to the waiter after eating, and twenty would remain.
Even then, by the next evening at another inn, it'd be fifty coins. Namgung Myeong's pouch was veritably a bottomless pit of wealth.
"Your turn, Brother Jin."
Now Dang Mujin upended his pouch. Out tumbled thirty-one silver taels. Not bad savings for all their wandering.
'Thirty-one silver taels.'
Previously, in Zhongjing, three of them had paid sixty silver taels for a boat.
Twenty taels per person.
For two to ride, they'd need forty taels.
Namgung Myeong's few coppers were negligible, so they were short nine taels.
But that was manageable. Have Namgung Myeong lend a hand with chores on board, while Dang Mujin treated illnesses among crew and passengers to earn some coin.
"Is it enough?"
"A bit short. But no real problem. Let's secure a boat right away."
Dang Mujin led Namgung Myeong confidently to the harbor.
But when they inquired about boats heading up the Yangtze to Zhongjing, shocking news came.
"Two to Zhongjing? Eighty silver taels."
"Pardon?"
"What're you repeating? Forty per person. Eighty total."
He'd thought twenty per person was exorbitant already, but for some reason, the fare had doubled.
Nine taels might be haggled down with some effort, but forty-nine was impossible. It was well beyond bargaining territory.
"Why so expensive? Last year, coming down from Zhongjing to Huaining cost just twenty taels."
The crewman snorted.
"Downriver follows the current—cheap. Upriver fights it—naturally pricier. Plus, it's right after winter; folks are lining up to pay premiums. Peak season for merchants."
"But double seems excessive."
"Not my price. If you don't like it, shop around. Or wait a month or two till late spring. Fares'll drop to around thirty taels then."
For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed Dang Mujin's mind: 'Ditch Namgung Myeong and board alone— it'd work somehow.'
But he immediately banished it. Deep down, Dang Mujin saw himself as a man of loyalty.
"...We'll look around a bit more."
"Suit yourself."
Dang Mujin turned away, glancing at the sky. The sun was nearing the horizon, casting a red glow.
Seeing folks disperse after work sparked an idea.
"Brother Myeong. Since it's come to this, let's earn the boat fare right here in Wuchang."
Namgung Myeong immediately objected to the proposal.
"Jobs paying that much are hard to come by. Better to cut through the Hanzhong region and walk to Sichuan—faster."
Fifty silver taels was no small sum. While laboring at the quarries, Namgung Myeong's daily wage had been ten copper coins plus breakfast.
Fifty taels made five thousand coppers. Even starving through dinners, it'd take him a year and a half of steady work. Both of them grinding away, and it'd still be winter before they could sail.
Better to walk to Sichuan than scrape together that much.
But that was talk for someone earning ten coppers a day.
"No problem. Earning here and sailing will still get us there sooner than walking."
"You have a way to earn it?"
"Of course."
To avoid assassins tailing them, no swinging swords or playing physician for pay in Wuchang. Maybe after reaching Zhongjing or Sichuan.
That left handicrafts.
Truth be told, they paid better than swordplay or doctoring.
The issue was how to leverage it.
First idea: rent a forge, craft and sell goods. Wuchang had plenty of merchants, so materials were easy, sales guaranteed.
But timing was off. Early spring was peak for forges. Backlogs galore—doubtful they'd rent even for pay.
Next best: hawk simple wood carvings on the street.
Set up in the bustling tavern district, sell to revelers—money would roll in quick.
Dang Mujin proposed to Namgung Myeong.
"First, head to the tavern alleys. We'll target the pockets of merry drunks."
"Didn't expect you'd stoop to pickpocketing... Fine. Shortest case a day, longest two, and we're sailing."
Suddenly, confidence laced Namgung Myeong's voice. Dang Mujin found it oddly ominous.
"Not that. Legitimate trade."
"Trade?"
"Carve wood, sell it—dozens of silver taels in no time. Here's some silver; fetch wood with fine grain and pretty patterns. Pagoda tree or honey locust should do."
Street trinkets went for one or two coppers at best, and buyers were rare.
But Namgung Myeong figured there was reason for Dang Mujin's confidence.
"Thought you only handled metal, but woodwork too, eh?"
"Overlaps. I'll set up; grab the wood quick and meet in the tavern alleys."
"Got it."
Namgung Myeong and Dang Mujin vanished into Wuchang's crowds.
*
Dang Mujin spread out in a tavern alley corner and sat. Too early for heavy drinking; no stumblers yet.
He ignored the sober. They'd hardly care for carvings anyway. He idly whittled trivial trinkets, waiting for the right mark.
A drunk father's heart is a wonder: suddenly, he craves gifts for family.
Kid's favorite snack, wife's eyed hairpin. Even junk ignored sober. Anything to bring home.
Problem: Dang Mujin's samples were crude.
New bird? Crane or dove—hard to tell. Quadruped? Barely cow or horse. Namgung Myeong looked subtly disappointed.
"...These sell?"
"Not for sale. Just to advertise 'carvings here.'"
"Better make 'em flashier to draw crowds."
"No need. Rustic wares have their place."
Flashy repels. Drunk dads loosen purses, but only for coin-range buys.
Ten, twenty coppers max. Spot a silver-tael—or gold—item, even revelers hesitate. Real sales start after hooking eyes.
Then an official in robes approached. Cheekbones flushed—drinking since early.
"Selling these?"
"Yes."
"Gimme that. Chicken shape. Price?"
"Two coppers, but shabby work. First customer: three coppers, I'll make far better."
"Nah, this suffices."
"Won't take a quarter-hour."
"Hmm..."
The official perked with mild interest. Whipping up even crude work that fast wasn't easy.
Just then, Namgung Myeong slid a broad plank under the official's rear; he plopped down reflexively. Perfect timing—head was spinning, needed a seat.
Seated, his mood softened. Mere coppers. Two or three—what's the diff?
"What shape?"
"Rooster. Crest stiff upright, tail long and full."
Crest meant official fortune; long tail, longevity and glory. Ideal dad-to-son gift.
Dang Mujin carved leisurely.
Leisurely by his gauge—blindingly fast to others. Swipe here, crest forms; there, legs sprout.
Official started cocked-legged, casual watch.
Soon straightened unwittingly. Skills no amateur's.
Then head tilted forward.
He'd figured rough rooster shape enough, but Dang Mujin surpassed, detailing feathers.
Wings soft as real plumage despite wood; eyes sharp, bug-hunting vivid.
Official grew uneasy. Gap from crude samples too vast. Three coppers? Felt like three taels.
He knew its true worth topped three taels. But his pouch wasn't flush.
"Hey. Uh... still three coppers?"
"Yes. Discount for first."
Official relaxed, head half-buried, eyes glued to hands.
Passersby gathered not for the carver, but the rapt official—then fixed on Dang Mujin's fingertips.
They froze, nailed in place.
At last, Dang Mujin finished, offering it up.
As ordered: stiff crest, elegant long tail feathers draping—a lifelike long-tailed rooster, brimming with vitality.
Official stared long, then eyed Dang Mujin oddly.
"Heard the world overflows with marvels, but meeting one myself..."
"Your lucky day."
Shameless backed by skill irks not.
Official grinned, about to hand three coppers—then rethought.
Three? No way. His eye wasn't expert, but resale promised tens, hundreds-fold profit.
Purse tightish. Yet no cheapskate before rare spectacle and favor.
He untied his pouch wholesale, handing it over. One silver tael and some coppers inside. Dang Mujin pocketed it matter-of-factly.
Rising, the official spotted dozens of onlookers behind.
Slight fluster, but grasping his finale, he grinned and trotted off.
Customer is god.
But by Dang Mujin's experience, from the second, the seller was.
Dang Mujin crossed legs brazenly.
"Come on. State your desire and offer. Highest bids first."