Shaanxi Scorpion (1)
I gazed out the window.
The greenery was lush and deep.
As I checked my reflection in the mirror, Palgap spoke up.
"Young master, we all know you're handsome. You don't need to admire yourself like that."
"Admire myself? I was just inspecting my appearance. You know how important looks are for merchants."
"Yes, yes, I know. I've heard it a hundred times already—I've got it memorized."
I'd better shut up.
It had been two years since I'd returned to the past.
Before I knew it, I was seventeen.
The salt retail business in Hubei Province, handled by the Eunhae Merchant Group, was proceeding smoothly.
And the affairs of Hyunpung-guk under my charge were flowing without a hitch.
"Have you heard the news, young master?"
"What news?"
"They say Master Il-sim of Shaolin Temple has ascended to the Transcendent Realm."
"Oh, really?"
Master Il-sim was senior even to the current Shaolin abbot, Master Se-yeon, and had reached the Transcendent Realm solely through the Five Shaolin Rights.
Yet he had secluded himself in the Repentance Cave, saying that wielding power recklessly did not aid cultivation.
Even at my death, I hadn't heard he'd entered nirvana—and he was over a hundred back then.
Anyway, with rumors spreading that Master Il-sim had entered the Transcendent Realm, the time had come.
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I headed to Hyunpung-guk.
"You've arrived?"
"Yes."
The Hyunpung-guk office where I worked was not far from Father's study.
We'd originally used a separate annex, but with so many important documents, we'd moved inside the Eunryong-jeon for security.
I sat at my desk in my office, tapping my fingers on the table as I pondered for a moment.
Then I called out.
"Palgap!"
"Yes! You called, young master?"
"Fetch Madam Hong for me."
"Right away."
A short while later, Madam Hong Geum-so entered my office.
"I heard you summoned me."
"Yes, have a seat."
Madam Hong gave a light bow and sat across the table.
Soon Palgap brought tea and set it before us.
"Please enjoy."
"Thank you."
We sipped our tea and exchanged light chatter before I set down my cup and got to the point.
"How is your husband's condition?"
"Ah... he's still bedridden. But he's improving bit by bit. He stays conscious longer now and can even express himself. We're so grateful you've let him receive treatment at the clinic and helped us earn good money."
Madam Hong's face darkened briefly, but she soon brightened again.
Just as I remember.
Then things can proceed as planned.
I comforted her, chatted a bit more, and sent her on her way.
Then I sat quietly, recalling events from my previous life.
Madam Hong Geum-so had been renowned as the "Heavenly Seamstress" for her exquisite needlework.
She'd been a great help to me, so in gratitude, I'd asked the Black Physician to treat her husband.
At the time, the Black Physician had diagnosed him thus:
"Too late. The evil qi has already invaded his marrow. It's a miracle he's lasted this long. He'll be gone in a month at most. If proper medicine had been used five or six years ago, he might have recovered."
I'd been twenty-four then.
Seven years from now.
There was still plenty of time.
The physician tending her husband back then had been frankly incompetent.
Yet her husband had survived this long thanks to his will to live.
Greedy for the money from such a lucrative patient, the doctor hadn't abandoned or halted treatment.
So in this life, upon forging ties with her, I'd arranged for her husband to receive care at our merchant group's clinic.
The pretext was solid, so the old physician raised no real objections.
With proper treatment underway, his condition was gradually improving.
But it wasn't a fundamental cure.
The Black Physician's "might have recovered" meant restoring him to a life without mortal peril.
Her husband was a martial artist.
Even if he survived, the sense of worthlessness would linger.
Unable to wield martial arts anymore.
A chicken raised from birth is content with a chicken's life.
But would an eagle that once soared the skies be happy confined to a chicken's existence?
That's why I planned to give her husband an entirely new life.
Around the time Master Il-sim reached the Transcendent Realm, a spirit medicine could be obtained.
Its name: Bok-si-ryeong-gwa.
It resembled a cherry, with the power to restore a damaged body.
One fruit could rewind the body by ten years.
I intended to procure the Bok-si-ryeong-gwa and feed it to Madam Hong's husband.
Ten years prior would take him back to his healthy days— that should suffice.
The Bok-si-ryeong-gwa, which restored a broken body to its state ten years past, was an extraordinary spirit medicine.
Accordingly, it was incredibly hard to obtain.
Why go to such lengths for Madam Hong's husband? Simple.
I owed him my life.
Back then, with the Black Physician's aid, he'd regained enough strength for a fortnight of speech, despite death looming.
In that time, he poured out words he'd withheld from his wife.
Sorry.
Thank you.
And sorry again.
When he died, he told her to remarry and live happily.
Then he said he had words for me too.
He thanked me.
For recognizing his wife's talent and caring for her so attentively—he was truly grateful.
His expression turned grave as he continued.
"My wife tells me everything. Thanks to that, I know. There's an assassin I recognize right beside you, young master."
I immediately summoned my guards and seized the employee from the fabric shop.
Poison pills were found between his teeth, a dagger coated in toxin in his bosom.
An assassin dispatched from a rival fabric shop run by the Black Path.
Had he not warned me, I'd have suffered grievous wounds—or death.
True, I'd hired Madam Hong and arranged the Black Physician's examination, enabling him to tell me.
But that didn't negate the debt of gratitude.
I never forgot enemies—or favors.
A life debt demanded repayment in kind.
In my past life, he'd died before I could repay him.
This time, he still lived.
I had to settle the score properly.
But explaining to Father, "Actually, I died and came back, and this favor from then..."? Would he say, "Alright, off you go"?
No—he'd summon a physician with a worried frown.
Fine for the doctor, but I couldn't bear my parents' concern.
I needed a suitable excuse to head to Shaanxi Province.
After all, the Bok-si-ryeong-gwa required a trip there.
I pondered briefly.
A fitting pretext soon came to mind.
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That afternoon, I reported the day's business to Father.
"I see, good."
"And Father, I know there's a trading caravan heading to Shaanxi Province this time."
"Right. We need to fetch the Bokcha tea from there."
"I'd like to join them and make the trip."
I continued.
"I plan to check if the Ui Merchant Group in Shaanxi is selling the wind fans well."
"Must you go in person?"
"His Majesty the Emperor entrusted me with directly overseeing the wind fans' sales—how could I take it lightly?"
"True enough."
"And by going myself, if anything arises, I can avoid any accountability issues."
Father stared at me intently.
"Why do you look at me like that?"
"That sounds like your real motive."
"Hahaha."
I laughed.
"But the caravan trip will take time, won't it?"
"Safer than traveling separately."
"Fair point."
After a moment's thought, Father readily approved.
"Tidy up so Hyunpung-guk runs smoothly in your absence."
"Understood."
Permission granted.
Father seemed to agree that traveling with the caravan beat going alone.
Back in my office, I told Palgap, who was sorting documents.
"Palgap, pack our bags."
"Pardon?"
"We're heading to Shaanxi."
"Whaaat?"
The land route from Hubei to Shaanxi wasn't great, frankly.
Mount Wudang and Mount Zhongnan loomed like walls across the path.
Detouring meant a massive loop around Mount Fulong, Mount Song, and Mount Hua.
Or risking the narrow, perilous plank roads.
But the waterways were another story.
We could sail straight up the Han River from Hubei into Shaanxi.
Bokcha—named for brewing during the triple summer heat—was a famous tea from Shaanxi, a black tea with a unique aroma, smooth flavor, and beautiful dark sheen.
It settled the stomach nicely; I rather liked it.
At that moment, Yeo Chang-ui, no—my deputy from Yeo Chang-ui, spoke up.
"Team leader, does that mean I'm going too?"
Yeo Chang-ui had been my assistant at the Jae-gyeong-gak; when I took over Hyunpung-guk, I'd brought him along as deputy.
Now he'd skyrocketed to squad leader rank.
He was the first person I'd saved upon returning to the past. In my previous life, he'd died in a fire orchestrated by Hwa Yeon-ru's orders.
Such talent going to waste—I'd kept him close and put him to good use.
"Of course you're coming. There's plenty for you to handle, Deputy Yeo."
"Ah... Understood."
Preparations for Shaanxi proceeded steadily.
My true goal wasn't trading Bokcha there.
Meaning I had no business meddling in caravan affairs.
I focused on ensuring Hyunpung-guk ran fine without me for a while.
* * *
Um Sam-taek was one of the Eunhae Merchant Group's chief managers.
He'd worked in the internal tea division for over a decade.
Thus, he took immense pride in his duties.
He was also the lead for this Bokcha trading caravan to Shaanxi.
Amid his busy preparations, shocking news arrived.
"Huh? The Hyunpung-guk leader's joining us?"
"Yes."
Two years prior, Eun Seo-ho had become a squad leader and head of Hyunpung-guk simultaneously.
Unlike the usual practice of assigning one shop underling for experience.
Rumor had it Jeok Byeong-cheol of Se-pung-gak had backed him strongly.
How the hell did he win over that old fortress of a man...?
Managers like him knew.
Jeok Byeong-cheol might look approachable, but he was an iron bastion.
Sure, Eun Seo-ho had shone brightly these years.
But it bore no direct relation to Um Sam-taek.
No harm or boon to him personally.
Come to think of it, the silver manager was thrilled about distributing Cheol-gwan-eum without middlemen interference, thanks to the Hyunpung-guk leader...
His salary hadn't risen, so it soon faded from mind.
Anyway, Eun Seo-ho tagging along didn't thrill him.
The young master was the group leader's son.
Just imagining the meddling gave him a headache.
Other managers had griped about it: spoiled brats butting in everywhere, complicating things with their greed.
How could his head not ache?
The next day after the news spread, Eun Seo-ho visited him.
In recent years, Eun Seo-ho had grown strikingly.
Taller, more manly build.
And his face—unmanly to say, but beautiful.
Well, his true nature hasn't changed.
He greeted Eun Seo-ho politely.
"Please, eat."
"Thank you."
Eun Seo-ho sat across the table.
"We're both busy, so I'll be direct."
"I prefer it that way."
"I have business in Shaanxi, so I'll be imposing on your caravan."
"I've heard."
"I look forward to a smooth journey."
"The pleasure's mine. Haha."
"And to be clear upfront: I have no intention of interfering in this caravan's affairs."