551. The Jegal Clan's Eccentric (4)
My question prompted the Supreme Patriarch to ask one in return.
"Didn't you find something strange about it?"
"Pardon?"
"From the moment you and Youngest Brother Yu first arrived here, I've shown nothing but hatred toward the Murim Alliance."
Come to think of it, he had.
Not just me—even with Chief Steward Yu So-ak, who wasn't a martial artist, present, the Patriarch had radiated such killing intent upon reading the Murim Alliance's letter that he'd brought himself.
"Weren't you curious about the reason?"
At the time, I'd assumed it was because the Murim Alliance had been eyeing the Jegal Clan covetously.
And since the clan had nearly been destroyed by them, it made sense he'd harbor hatred.
Moreover, yesterday we'd learned that Jegal Cheon-du's father—the Supreme Patriarch's youngest brother—had been killed by the Murim Alliance. So I'd thought it natural for the Patriarch to despise them.
The Alliance called it an accident, but Jegal Cheon-du was convinced otherwise.
That his father had been assassinated for defying their will.
But the Supreme Patriarch's deep-seated hatred for the Murim Alliance stemmed from something else entirely.
They were the ones who had wiped out Sul-pung Palace, the sect of his dear friend.
"The Murim Alliance!"
The Supreme Patriarch nodded at my words.
"Brother Yi-mok sensed the aura of the Black Path from certain members of the Murim Alliance. But I didn't agree. I even told him it must be a mistake... But I was wrong. The one mistaken was me."
He continued.
"It's embarrassing to admit, but even after reading Brother Yi-mok's letter, I couldn't believe it. It took losing my youngest brother for me to realize his words were true."
He let out a deep sigh.
That sigh carried profound regret and remorse.
"What of the Blood Cult, then? I've encountered countless incidents disrupting the murim world, and I've confirmed their involvement in many."
"It's possible their remnants are plotting something, but the Blood Cult has effectively been eradicated."
"Are you certain?"
"I heard their cult leader died during the incident at the Wudang Sect some time ago. The Blood Cult's martial arts are hereditary. With him gone, they have no chance of resurgence."
No.
My instincts screamed otherwise.
We couldn't afford to overlook the Blood Cult.
"But..."
The Supreme Patriarch continued.
"I once dismissed Brother Yi-mok's words due to my shallow knowledge and convictions, and I regretted it deeply. So this time, I won't ignore your concerns. We'll keep a close watch from the main clan."
That was a relief.
If the Jegal Clan took such a stance, it would be immensely helpful.
"Thank you."
"I've said my piece. Now, onto Brother Sam-mok's business."
Sam-mok—Yeok-ui Hwa-ta?
He slid a small box from atop the table toward me.
"This is for you."
I'd been eyeing that box earlier, and it turned out it was meant for me.
"Open it."
I did, and I jolted in surprise.
A fragrant floral scent filled the room.
It was refreshingly clear.
"This is..."
"As expected of the Eunhae Merchant Group's young division head—you recognize it."
A single vivid red flower resembling woodroot.
Still fresh, not withered.
Thousand-Year Eternal Blood Flower.
Famed as a spirit herb that boosted inner energy, but even more so for healing external wounds.
They said crushing and applying it could heal any injury in an instant.
"That was entrusted to me by my friend. He asked me to give it to you."
But I had no need for it.
I had Gold Spirit.
Her saliva rivaled the flower in efficacy, so if the Jegal Clan kept it, they could save someone else's precious life someday.
Better to ask Yeok-ui Hwa-ta for a different favor.
"I'm sorry, but I can't accept it."
"You won't take it?"
The Supreme Patriarch's eyes widened.
"Yes. It's too precious. I didn't save you expecting payment."
"But..."
"If it bothers you, then instead of this, please treat someone I ask for later."
There'd come a time when I'd need Yeok-ui Hwa-ta's help.
.
.
.
I withdrew from the Supreme Patriarch's chambers and returned to my guest pavilion.
I flopped onto the bed.
Palgap would nag if he saw me lying down still in my travel clothes, but right now, I just wanted to collapse.
Whew, I'm exhausted.
Learning the truth about the culprits behind Sul-pung Palace's destruction through him had drained my mental energy.
I ground my teeth.
Murim Alliance, you bastards!
Now I had one more reason to get revenge on them.
As the deputy palace lord of Sul-pung Palace, I couldn't let them be.
If they learned I'd mastered their martial arts, they'd try to eliminate me by any means.
For my own survival, it was crucial.
But the problem was that not everyone in the Murim Alliance deserved vengeance.
There had to be plenty who were clueless.
Even Yi-pil's father was an instructor of secret techniques in the Alliance.
I needed to clearly distinguish friend from foe.
One thing was certain: the Alliance Leader was the enemy.
I knew that from Jin Yu Warrior.
So where did the Blood Cult piece fit into this puzzle?
As I pondered, a sudden sense of emptiness washed over me.
After years of struggling to uncover the identity of Sul-pung Palace's destroyers, the Supreme Patriarch had known all along.
But I shook my head, dispelling the thought.
In the end, it was reward for my hard efforts.
If I hadn't stopped his poisoning, or saved the Jegal Clan from the chaos of the Soul-Calming Barrier Formation, there'd be no one left to tell me the truth.
And if I hadn't thrashed about desperately to survive, I never would have reached the Super First-rate realm.
So my life of struggling—for the Eunhae Merchant Group's future and for revenge—hadn't been in vain.
Drip.
Huh? Why are tears coming?
Tears streamed uncontrollably before I knew it.
"Kkwi? Kkwi! Kku!"
Noticing, Gold Spirit poked out from my sleeve to comfort me.
"Kkwi... kku."
"I'm fine."
Yeah, really. This was closer to tears of joy than sorrow.
They say happiness can bring tears too.
"Kkwi? Kku?"
Huh? Comforting me means I owe you silver now?
"..."
The tears vanished.
Whew, is this the time to bawl?
The Eunhae Merchant Group was still ranked twentieth.
And we had mountains of work ahead.
Thanks to Gold Spirit, my head cleared right up.
"Gold Spirit. Run an errand for me."
"Kkwi?"
"I need to send a letter to Master."
The fact that the Murim Alliance were the culprits was urgent news.
.
.
.
That afternoon.
I was invited to a banquet at the Jegal Clan.
Guided by a servant, I arrived at the hall, which perfectly embodied the clan's style.
Not flashy, but substantial.
The dishes on the table looked simple and refined.
What stood out was the dumplings among them.
"Is something wrong?"
I shook my head at Jegal Yu-a, the young matriarch tilting her head.
"No, nothing. I was just surprised to see dumplings on a banquet table."
She smiled at my response.
"Ah, that's why. Dumplings are common fare, so they're usually omitted from banquets. But this is the Jegal Clan. It's to commemorate Chancellor Jegal Seung's—Mu Hyang-hu's—heart, who valued human life so much he used dumplings to deceive the enemy instead of heads."
"I see."
Opinions varied on the origins of dumplings.
But what mattered was that spirit of rejecting needless sacrifice.
"Please, sit."
"Yes."
As we took our seats, others arrived soon after.
This banquet was for the Supreme Patriarch and his wife, the clan head and his, and Jegal Cheon-du's family.
A send-off for Jegal Cheon-du, who would instruct at the martial hall in Beijing.
And his family was sizable.
His mother and four older brothers.
Seeing their mature ages drove home that Jegal Cheon-du was a late child.
The youngest of five sons and three daughters.
"Hahaha, please understand our youngest's quirks."
"Of course. Taking on the Jegal Clan's prodigy means enduring that much."
"Our youngest..."
"So our youngest..."
No sisters present—they'd married out—so only brothers, but four mentions already.
At their worried words about the baby of the family, Jegal Cheon-du finally snapped.
"Argh! Brothers! How long am I a child? I'm all grown up now! I've even completed the Latent Dragon Journey!"
"Right, the Latent Dragon..."
Jegal Cheon-du shouldn't have brought that up.
"We waited desperately, and you return after twenty years."
"We thought you were dead!"
"Sigh, really..."
Under their scolding, he surrendered.
"I'm sorry, brothers. I've committed a grave sin."
That sparked my curiosity.
"Pardon me, but I understand clan warriors secretly watch during the Latent Dragon Journey. So didn't you know he was alive?"
One of his brothers answered.
"Yes. We watch to ensure no ties to shady groups. But after confirming his return, the watchers withdrew—and he slipped away then."
"Ah... I see."
I turned to Jegal Cheon-du.
"Please don't slip away mid-contract while working with me."
"Ahem, no worries there."
"Right. We have the contract."
"Contract?"
I nodded at the clan head's question.
"Yes. A tool to ensure trust in dealings between people."
"I know that."
"You seem worried about hidden clauses."
"Indeed. Was it obvious?"
"As the one overseeing the clan's affairs, you have every right to see Jegal Cheon-du's contract. Please review it."
I handed my contract to a servant, who passed it to the clan head.
He examined it carefully and nodded.
"Extremely reasonable terms."
"Yes."
I wouldn't tamper with a contract for the mighty Jegal Clan.
I took it back and tucked it away.
"But couldn't Cheon-du just ignore it and bolt?"
"Possible, but no need to worry."
I grinned.
"This contract will be notarized by His Imperial Majesty the Emperor."
Jegal Cheon-du jolted.
"What? Notarized by the Emperor?"
"Of course. Would we handle appointing an instructor for an imperial martial hall sloppily?"
A contract's power varied by notary.
The Emperor's was the pinnacle.
"So if it doesn't suit him and he quits, he'll be hunted by the Gold Guards and Embroidered Uniform Guard for life. And if caught, he'll labor in a martial hall forever."
"..."
As Jegal Cheon-du paled, the clan head said calmly.
"Why worry? Just work ten years without quitting."
"W-Well, true."
"So, best wishes."
I cupped my fists with a smile; he returned it with a sour face, like he'd bitten a rotten cucumber.
This was my real poison clause.
But I didn't feel bad. It wasn't bad for him either.
If his students rose up, it'd weaken the Murim Alliance—and give him chances to screw them over.
His hatred ran that deep.
Even in his past life, he'd used the Yu Gang Merchant Group's power to thwart Baek Cheon at every turn.
.
.
.
Five days after arriving at the Jegal Clan.
We prepared to depart for Beijing.
"Take care."
"Yes."
The Supreme Patriarch's farewell sounded ordinary, but carried a deeper meaning.
Watch out for the Murim Alliance.
"We'll meet again this fall."
"Pardon?"
As I tilted my head at Jegal Yu-a's words, she smiled.
"The Murim Grand Assembly."
"Ah!"
The Murim Grand Assembly.
The Murim Alliance's biggest event every nine years—an unrestricted martial tournament.
A prime chance for merchant groups to profit handsomely.
Though they'd skim hefty fees as "seating" and "protection" costs.
"Are you attending?"
"Yes, I plan to."
"It's dangerous."
"Probably. But fame in the murim bolsters the clan."
Fair point; I couldn't dissuade her.
"I see. Looking forward to our fall reunion."
I bid others farewell and mounted up.
"Then I'll be off."
"Safe travels."
We departed the Jegal Clan.
Voices sending off Jegal Cheon-du echoed behind.
"Young master, will you stop by the Yeo-chun Guest Inn's Sung Mountain branch on the way?"
I nodded at Palgap's question.
"Yeah. It's on the route anyway, and I should check if those I rescued made it home safe."
Only then would my pockets get fatter.