To Beijing (2)
The next morning.
I met my master for the first time in a while.
"Have you been well, Master?"
My master nodded at my greeting.
"Nothing much on my end, but it seems you've been quite active, young master. The rumors are everywhere."
"I've merely done my best—it's embarrassing to hear such praise."
After that brief exchange, we dove into serious sword training.
"Let me see the results of your practice so far."
"Yes, sir."
I demonstrated the first stance of the Jinseol Twelve Forms Sword Art before my master: Heavy Snow.
As my master's expression grew increasingly grave, I lowered my sword and asked,
"Master, are you alright?"
"Ah, yes, I'm fine."
"What's wrong? Is there something off with my swordsmanship?"
"No, that's not it."
After a moment's hesitation, my master asked me,
"Have you... truly never learned the Jinseol Twelve Forms Sword Art before?"
"No, sir."
"Then how... How can you infuse the true essence of the art—something only grasped after mastering all twelve forms—into Heavy Snow? It doesn't make sense..."
His words made me flinch inwardly.
But I couldn't reveal that I'd returned from the future just yet.
Sorry, Master.
"I don't quite know myself."
"Hmm, I see. Well, let's move on to the next stance anyway."
"Yes, sir."
"Palgap, bring what I mentioned."
It was finally time to learn the second form of the Jinseol Twelve Forms Sword Art.
Though, truthfully, I'd learned it before.
Jinseol Twelve Forms Sword Art, Second Stance.
Accumulated Snow.
Like snow piling up until a mighty tree snaps under the weight, it stacks attacks to break the opponent.
'Accumulated Snow' is mainly for facing foes stronger than yourself.
Thus, the key is stamina management.
You have to strike multiple times, but if you tire out before they fall, it's pointless motion.
So when practicing 'Accumulated Snow', the first step was endless sword swings without rest.
Starting from a quarter-hour, building up to a full hour.
Only then could you master it.
And because of the muscle pain in my arms, I'd suffered for a good while...
Thud!
"Here it is, sir."
At that moment, Palgap dropped a massive log in front of me.
Palgap, no.
Take that back right now.
But those words didn't make it past my lips.
"Alright, swing your sword at it until I tell you to stop."
Will my arms hold up?
Sigh, who knows.
Gwak Myeong-hyeon headed to the Cheongin Escort Agency.
Every morning, he visited Eun Seo-ho's quarters to guide his sword training before going to the agency—a fixed part of his routine.
If either he or Eun Seo-ho had business, Eun Seo-ho trained alone.
But practicing swordsmanship solo was dangerous.
That's why he'd strictly ordered his two sons never to train without him.
Yet he'd told Eun Seo-ho to train on his own because trustworthy people surrounded him.
Like Outer Division Leader Go Il-pyeong, and other martial artists.
'And... his talent is just too extraordinary.'
He grasped ten insights from one lesson.
Even for the most basic first stance of the Jinseol Twelve Forms Sword Art, Heavy Snow, infusing its true essence was something only a master of the full art could do.
Honestly, Eun Seo-ho's current state was a bit abnormal.
His internal energy rivaled peak experts.
Yet his swordsmanship had only reached the second of twelve stances.
'With that level of internal energy, he could neutralize most foes with just two stances.'
But he had no intention of accelerating the lessons.
No—he couldn't.
The Jinseol Twelve Forms Sword Art was a hereditary family art.
And per the ancestral precepts passed down through generations, one must follow the righteous path to learn it.
Defy that, and you'd pay a price—Gwak Myeong-hyeon knew what that price was.
Gaining great power required endurance; those who skipped it met... horrific ends.
Fortunately, Eun Seo-ho never pushed to speed things up.
He simply carried out the assigned tasks diligently.
'But did he really know nothing of the Jinseol Twelve Forms Sword Art before?'
The stance he'd taught Eun Seo-ho today, 'Accumulated Snow', was for toppling strong enemies through relentless attacks.
That required hit-and-run tactics.
Lingering in one spot exposed you to counters.
Hence, footwork was crucial.
In truth, it wasn't an exaggeration to say the Wuhyeon Footwork was made for this.
To land the next strike, the foe mustn't track your movements.
Most struggled with footwork when first learning 'Accumulated Snow'—unfamiliar steps led to floundering.
That's why it was the hardest of the twelve stances to master.
But not for Eun Seo-ho.
'It's unbelievable, but the young master... used footwork. And flawlessly.'
From what he'd learned, Eun Seo-ho had only briefly trained under Outer Division Leader Go Il-pyeong before studying with him—no prior swordsmanship.
He recalled Eun Seo-ho's constitution from earlier.
'Could Father’s prophecy really be coming true?'
The carriage rocked steadily forward.
It carried Eun Gil-sang, Eun Jeong-ho, and Eun Seo-ho.
Truthfully, Eun Jeong-ho had wanted to stay with the merchant group.
But former leader Eun Ji-bong had forced him to go.
"Miss a chance like this? Go together! This group's mine to handle. You think this old man's too senile to manage?"
"N-no, Grandfather."
"Then what are you waiting for? Get to Beijing!"
"I haven't even packed..."
"I already had it done."
"..."
And so Eun Jeong-ho joined the trip.
It was the third day since departing for Beijing.
Right now, Eun Jeong-ho was poring over documents.
Eun Seo-ho was asleep.
Eun Gil-sang gazed quietly at his sleeping son's handsome face.
'Growing more like me by the day.'
He recalled a conversation with Eun Seo-ho a month ago, before departing for Sichuan.
"There's a plague hitting Gansu Province."
"That's worrying."
"Luckily, salt's proving effective."
"...Salt prices will skyrocket."
"Probably."
"Father, are you thinking of buying salt now and selling high later for arbitrage?"
Eun Seo-ho's eyes held a strange glint as he asked—like he already knew his thoughts.
"No. We won't do that."
Truthfully, it would yield massive profits. But he didn't want to.
Salt was a necessity of life.
Candy was optional; without salt, life ended.
Jack price-gouging in a crisis disregarded common folk.
From the founder of Eunhae Merchant Group, an ancestral precept endured: value people.
Those 'people' were employees, artisans, and customers.
To Eun Gil-sang, who'd learned it, profiting on salt felt wrong.
It would harm the masses.
Slowly, clearly, he stated his intent.
"It harms the people and defies our precepts. Personally, it sits ill with me."
His instincts warned of danger too.
Eun Seo-ho smiled faintly at the answer.
"Hearing that, I feel relieved, Father."
Eun Gil-sang chuckled. That smile confirmed he'd anticipated it.
"Testing your old man, eh?"
"Test? How could I test you, Father? I was just curious about your thoughts."
"Why the curiosity?"
"Looks sweet like honey, but poison lurks within."
"Poison?"
"Salt prices will climb higher."
"As you say, they'll soar enormously."
"Salt's essential for life. Will the palace just watch?"
"Ah!"
"That's my take. The palace will act."
And it had, birthing the Salt Distribution Act.
Amid merchant rises and falls, Eunhae reaped unexpected gains.
When the act passed, he'd been calm—foreseen via Eun Seo-ho.
But being named Hubei's salt retailer? That shook him.
Hubei's salt retailer.
Its implications were vast.
'Everyone in Hubei will mind our moves now.'
Many would tense at Eunhae's actions.
'Unexpected, though. Who knew Yu So-ak thought so highly of our Seo-ho.'
When granting Eun Seo-ho sub-leader status, Yu So-ak opposed surprisingly.
Asked why, he replied,
"It'll draw unwanted attention, tiring the young master."
Genuine worry in his voice.
"Attention's already on him—pointless concern."
"True."
In the end, it passed unanimously.
'Even I see it: true talent is true talent.'
Then, the snoring Eun Seo-ho suddenly opened his eyes.
"...!"
Startled, Eun Gil-sang asked,
"What's wrong? You were sleeping soundly."
"Well..."
In the carriage to Beijing, I'd dozed off briefly.
Carriages usually jolt every bump straight to your body.
But this one was different.
Thick, plush cushions swallowed my rear—no shocks felt.
Comfort bred drowsiness.
Reviewing pre-Beijing documents, fatigue hit.
Likely from the Hubei-to-Sichuan journey's lingering toll.
Or the new sword forms.
Probably that.
I succumbed to sleep.
Deep in slumber, something prickled my senses.
Black道 thugs?
Then, sharp stabs—like killing intent poking.
Someone ahead targeted us.
I snapped awake.
Father asked,
"What's wrong? You were sleeping soundly."
"Well..."
As I chose words, the carriage window opened.
Yun Chung-jin's face appeared—Silver Wind Squad's vice-leader, second only to Outer Leader Go Il-pyeong in skill.
Go Il-pyeong had wanted to escort us.
But duties as outer leader abounded; he couldn't neglect HQ.
Conveniently, the palace sent Gold Guard and Imperial Guards.
After Jin U-rim's attack precedent.
Safety assured, Yun Chung-jin came.
He'd sensed it too.
"Looks like we won't pass quietly."
"Ambush?"
"Yes. Stay safe in the carriage. Won't take long."
Moments later.
Clashing steel rang fiercely. I wasn't worried.
My senses said we'd handle them quick.
But attacking us despite Gold Guard flags?
Meant they targeted us specifically.
Most likely reason: our 'salt retail rights'.
Suddenly, something felt off.
With this puny force, against Gold Guard and Imperial Guards?
'Ah!'
It's a diversion.
They're after our lives.
Then—
Whoosh—!
Something flew through the window.
Damn! Exploding Thunder Bomb!