Plenty Indeed (3)
The birthday gift that Geum-ryeong had brought me was a spirit herb called the Heavenly Spirit Root.
As the name suggested, it was a spirit herb infused with a thousand years' worth of the earth's vital energy.
No spirit herb was easy to find, but this one ranked among the rarer ones.
Buried deep underground, it only surfaced if the earth cracked open or through long years of erosion.
Its effects were, naturally, extraordinary.
Just one root could bring even someone bedridden with a grave illness back to their feet.
It was truly a panacea that maximized restorative power.
"You got all muddy digging this up for me. Thank you."
At my thanks, Geum-ryeong fidgeted bashfully with a kuii. I learned that day that it wagged its tail when embarrassed.
"I'll put this to very good use."
Kuii.
"Alright, let's clean you up before Palgap starts nagging."
I pulled out a handkerchief, dampened it with water from my canteen, and wiped Geum-ryeong down.
.
.
.
.
That night.
I woke to a faint trace of killing intent.
As I rose from my spot, the Cheongun warrior on night watch asked,
"Going to relieve yourself, young master?"
"No."
His face hardened as he saw me grab my sword.
"There are people targeting this place. Wake the others."
At my order, the Cheongun warrior immediately began rousing our group.
The killing intent directed at us was subtle.
Even the peak-realm escort warriors hadn't noticed it.
That meant they were still far off—we had plenty of time to prepare.
As we bustled about, arming ourselves, an escort from another merchant group approached and asked.
We'd gotten acquainted during the journey.
"What's going on?"
"Seems like someone's after the grain we're transporting."
"What? Through the Gold Guard? They've got some guts."
"Tell me about it."
Now even the peak-realm members of our group seemed to sense it, gripping their sword hilts tighter.
There was only one reason to target us: the grain we were hauling.
But they knew elite Gold Guard protected it, so they had to have some ace up their sleeve.
Manpower, weapons, or tactics.
In my view, tactics seemed most likely.
Tactics, huh...
Then I'll counter with tactics of my own.
A dark night.
A band of men pushed through the forest.
They halted at one spot.
In the distance, they could see campfire lights and countless wagons parked nearby.
"That's all grain, right? Just one of those wagons could feed our families a hot bowl of porridge."
"Soon it will be. Right?"
"Yes, Channel Lord."
The responder appeared to be in his late thirties.
Unlike the other mountain bandits, he wore a scholar's turban and his eyes gleamed with intelligence.
"If you follow my instructions to the letter, we can seize that grain without a single casualty."
For a fleeting moment, displeasure flickered in the channel lord's eyes, but it was so brief no one noticed.
"We'll divide into four groups. First, the vanguard approaches, strikes lightly, and retreats to lure the Gold Guard. Meanwhile, another unit raids from the opposite side to draw them off."
He continued.
"In the meantime, one of the remaining units sets fire to some grain or their tents to pull in the rest, while the final unit grabs the grain and bolts."
Someone raised a doubt.
"But what if other Gold Guard come to reinforce?"
"Exactly. Though the Gold Guard hauling the grain camp at set distances from each other."
Too many people clustered together caused logistical headaches.
Water sourcing, relieving themselves—issues like that.
They'd confirmed this through long observation, which enabled the plan.
"So we finish before they notice and reinforcements from elsewhere arrive."
"Ho... impressive!"
"As expected of our strategist."
"If this works, we'll eat our fill all winter."
The bandits began praising the turbaned strategist, and the channel lord bit his lip slightly.
"Then let's prepare."
"Right."
"But what if it fails?"
"It won't."
The strategist declared confidently, and soon the channel lord divided the men as planned. Heading to his position, he muttered inwardly.
Getting cocky just 'cause he's smart... Who even knows who's the real channel lord here?
He even felt anxious about being ousted from his position.
For now, though, securing grain was the priority.
Fail at that, and the discontent would turn on him.
So the strategist was still useful.
Piiik!
At the flute signal, they charged the Gold Guard as planned.
"Attack!"
"Yes!"
They soon clashed with the Gold Guard.
Clang-!
Chaaeng-!
The clash of cold steel echoed as battle erupted.
But the unit leader remembered the strategist's warning.
"Don't fight long. They're elite soldiers, even if not deeply trained in martial arts. Retreat at the signal."
Since they weren't the Embroidered Uniform Guard or the Eastern Depot—but regular Gold Guard—bandit rabble could hold them off briefly.
Piiik!
The signal came again.
They retreated, and the Gold Guard pursued.
Then, from the opposite side, another group hit the grain stash, luring away the remaining Gold Guard.
Now only the arson team and the looters remained.
The strategist was among the latter.
He needed to time the orders precisely.
But a problem arose.
"S-Strategist!"
"B-Big trouble."
They were stunned. Gold Guard had suddenly surrounded them.
The strategist bit his lip.
What? Reinforcements already? But the nearest unit was over five li away, and it's the dead of night?
Others noticing the commotion and rushing over should take time.
Yet here they were, encircled—a plain fact.
To the trembling group came a soft, clear voice.
"Surrender, and I'll spare your lives."
I smirked at their evident panic.
Approaching them, I asked,
"Anyway, you've got balls. What made you think you could steal this grain?"
"......"
"The feint-mixed diversion tactic was a decent strategy. Shame about your opponent."
"How... how did you see through the plan?"
The question came from the turbaned young man.
His face rang a vague bell, but I couldn't place it yet.
Anyway, I had to answer.
I chuckled.
"It was just visible."
"......Don't toy with us."
"Not toying."
The moment I sensed them settling in, I'd sent escorts to scout.
First step in countering: grasp the current situation precisely. Second: scout the enemy.
We knew the Gold Guard's numbers and positions well, so only enemy intel was needed.
Especially since I had specialists for reconnaissance.
Peak-realm warriors wouldn't be spotted by them, and Palgap had the Talent of the Death King.
They infiltrated, overheard the plan, and reported movements.
So "it was visible" wasn't a lie.
"You lured the Gold Guard, but we pretended to take the bait—then turned and came straight here."
I continued.
"Meanwhile, the Gold Guard at other camps handled your runners."
At my signal, Gold Guard approached.
They had a good number of bound bandits in tow.
"Good work."
"Nah, we're the grateful ones. Haha!"
The Gold Guard commander laughed heartily and waved it off, relief plain on his face.
No wonder—if they'd lost the grain, the Emperor's punishment would've been severe.
When I first detected them targeting this spot, I'd scouted their tactic and gone straight to the commander.
Honestly, if he hadn't listened, I was prepared to reveal my status as imperial inspector granted by the Emperor.
Couldn't let the grain our Eunhae Merchant Group had labored to procure get stolen.
But.
"You sure?"
He'd trusted my words without hesitation.
"His Majesty said not to dismiss anything you say, no matter how trivial."
As expected.
The Emperor's influence reached even here.
"Plus, seeing how diligently you handle your duties, you didn't strike me as the type for empty talk."
Come to think of it, when I'd said, "No merchant strays far from their goods during transport," his gaze had been sharp.
Anyway, with the commander's cooperation secured smoothly, everything fell into place, letting us repel the raid bloodlessly.
At my explanation, the turbaned man slumped to the ground.
"Damn it!"
"You're the one who planned it."
A raspy voice came from behind.
"That's right! That bastard's the planner! We followed his word and nearly died! What do you say to that?"
Hm? That critic's face also looked familiar?
At the rebuke, the turbaned man bit his lip, hands trembling.
I could guess his feelings.
Frustration at the plan's exposure? Fear of consequences?
Or...
"Planning tactics means bearing responsibility for countless lives. Thus, a true strategist always prepares contingencies for failure."
The Jin Yu warrior had reported to me.
He'd boasted there was no chance of failure.
"Seems you lacked that sense of responsibility."
His eyes turned to me.
"Executing a plan isn't mere go-board play. If you don't grasp the weight of the lives carrying it out, you lack the qualifications of a strategist."
His head drooped limply.
I addressed the Gold Guard commander.
"What will you do with them? You're in charge here."
"Frankly, killing them all would be easiest..."
Their faces paled.
"P-Please spare us!"
"Have mercy!"
"We've lost even the land we had and wander as refugees."
True, most bandits these days were displaced folk.
Unable to endure repeated famines, they'd fled home and joined bandit gangs.
Then the raspy voice again.
"He made us do it—why should we die? Kill him alone!"
Thud!
"Shut up!"
He clutched his gut after a Gold Guard kicked it.
I looked at the silent, head-bowed man.
Honestly, his tactic had been intriguing.
A bit arrogant, but that was youthful inexperience.
Such talent going to waste...
I approached and asked quietly,
"What's your name?"
"Pardon?"
"Your name."
"It's... Galhyeon."
"......!"
Hearing that, my eyes widened.
That explained the familiar faces of the strategist and channel lord.
Someone from my previous life.
Traveling for business, paying tolls to cross mountains was an unwritten rule.
And I'd indebted myself to a bandit channel in the woods between Shandong and Hubei.
Once, a sudden storm triggered a landslide, stranding me.
At their strategist's suggestion, I'd stayed awhile—and that strategist was him.
We'd talked through nights; I'd been impressed by his insight and cunning.
I covet talent.
I'd subtly recruited him, but he refused.
Leaving, I worried for him—the channel lord seemed petty.
Next meeting, I tried again; refused again.
That was my last chance to make him mine.
The narrow-minded lord eventually eliminated him.
Without him, the channel soon got absorbed by rivals—obvious end, thriving on his abilities.
Thanks to the future I'd changed, we'd met here, unthought-of by past ties.
His rough life before stemmed from picking the wrong lord.
But not by choice.
His family became refugees; this lord saved them, so he stayed to repay the debt.
I told him,
"That loudmouth over there—he's the channel lord, right?"
"......"
"No choice, so you ended up with that lord."
He listened silently.
Biting his lip showed he hated this too.
What chafes a subordinate more than a small-minded lord?
"And now, no choice again. Work under me? Or die?"
