Chapter 11

The repairs at Haegeomji were proceeding slowly and steadily.

There was no great hurry. They had a month to drive a few dozen wooden stands into the ground.

As always, Jinmu lounged around while Cheongu and Cheongsang did the hard work. After they had driven in one or two, Cheongsang went hunting and Cheongu lit a fire.

Then the pair trained, following the instructions Jinmu tossed out almost offhandedly.

“Smack, smack… Weren’t we supposed to have guests today?”

Cheongu spoke casually as he ate roast rabbit for lunch.

“That’s right. Crunch, crunch… They said Martial Grandfather Myeongchung went to plead with them several times.”

“They must be pretty important. Everyone’s been making a fuss, cleaning since morning.”

“Yes. The Cheongyang Merchant Guild, was it? Something like that.”

“Come to think of it, didn’t Martial Uncle Jinhye say he’d come down here himself around lunchtime to welcome them?”

No sooner had Cheongu finished speaking than voices drifted up from the foot of the hill.

Cheongsang’s face immediately tightened with tension.

“Cheongu!”

“…”

“Clear it away!”

Scrape! Scrabble!

In an instant, the pheasant remains were gone and the half-burned wood was buried in the ground.

Then they stepped out in front of Haegeomji to greet the guests as though nothing had happened.

“Hey, you two…”

Jinmu called out urgently, but they were already welcoming the visitors approaching Haegeomji with lofty expressions befitting proud second-generation disciples of Wudang’s Cheong generation, who had renounced worldly life for asceticism.

“Are you from the Cheongyang Merchant Guild?”

“…Yes.”

At Cheongsang’s dignified greeting, a middle-aged man with a goatee and a shifty face answered with a startled look.

“I am Cheongsang, a second-generation disciple of Wudang.”

“Ah, ah… Yes.”

As Cheongsang politely cupped his fist, the man returned the salute with a puzzled expression.

“Martial Uncle Jinhye told us this morning that you would be coming.”

“Ah… I see. But has some misfortune befallen Wudang…?”

“Pardon?”

As Cheongsang tilted his head at the question, the first-generation disciple Jinhye appeared from the direction of the mountain gate, leading a dozen or so second-generation disciples.

“Welcome, Guildmaster.”

Jinhye was greeting him warmly when he caught sight of Cheongsang and Cheongu, and his face twisted.

“You… you little…”

Perhaps because the goateed guildmaster was present, he restrained his anger, merely frowning before whipping around to glare at Jinmu.

What are you glaring at? I ought to pluck your damn eyes out.

Leaning against a tree, Jinmu met his gaze without flinching.

That scoundrel. Stuffing his face with meat again? Once this business with the Cheongyang Merchant Guild is settled, I’ll rally the first-generation disciples and petition the sect leader. Just you wait.

Grinding his teeth inwardly, Jinhye composed his face and turned back to the guildmaster.

“Let us head up. The sect leader is waiting.”

“…Yes. But has something happened?”

“Pardon?”

“The second-generation disciples’ faces…”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Probably from repairing Haegeomji…”

“Ah…”

The goateed man seemed to accept this, yet kept tilting his head in puzzlement. Still, having received Jinhye’s answer, he asked no more.

“Disciples, take their baggage.”

“Yes, Martial Uncle!”

At Jinhye’s command, the martial artists of the Cheong generation took the loads from the guild members and shouldered them.

“There’s no need to go to such trouble.”

“Ha ha, Guildmaster. Surely we’re not strangers? The mountain path is rough. Please, let us.”

“Heh heh. Then I’ll impose on your kindness.”

“Of course, of course. Now, shall we?”

As Jinhye stepped aside to clear the way toward the mountain gate, the guildmaster stroked his beard in apparent satisfaction and started walking.

“As for you lot… I’ll deal with you later.”

Once the guildmaster had gone ahead, Jinhye glared fiercely at Cheongsang and the others, then hurried after him.

Only when they had vanished completely from sight did Cheongsang release the breath he had been holding.

“Whew. I thought Martial Uncle Jinhye was going to catch us eating rabbit.”

“So did I. Good thing we cleared everything away so quickly.”

In truth, it wouldn’t have mattered if they had been caught.

“But why did he look so upset?”

Remembering Jinhye’s parting glare, Cheongu tilted his head.

“Haaah…”

Watching them, Jinmu sighed and shook his head. Neither seemed to have the faintest idea what the problem was.

“Hmm. What could be wrong?”

Cheongu cocked his soot-blackened face to one side.

Anyone with eyes could tell.

“We certainly weren’t discourteous…”

Cheongsang’s lips were slathered with grease.

Manners aren’t the problem here, are they?

Haaah. I thought Cheongsang, at least, had a decent head on his shoulders…

Were they innocent or just stupid?

You couldn’t scrape together a grain of sense between them. And these were the two he had made underlings number one and two.

Anyway.

“Cheongu.”

“Yes, Martial Uncle.”

“Who are those people?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

That’s why I’m asking, you little bastard.

“The Cheongyang Merchant Guild.”

“The Cheongyang Merchant Guild?”

“Yes. I heard they’re based somewhere in Danjiangkou.”

“Hmm.”

The Cheongyang Merchant Guild of Danjiangkou.

Jinmu ran through the many merchant guilds he knew, but he had never heard the name before.

Unlike the orthodox faction, who mindlessly cultivated the Tao up in the mountains, Sapacheon maintained close ties with the merchant world.

He had always considered money important enough to leap out of bed at its mere mention, and knew most of the prominent merchant guilds, escort agencies, and shipping businesses operating in the Central Plains.

Yet he didn’t know this one, which meant…

“Are they new?”

Well, it had already been a year since he died.

And he had spent every day since his return to life cooped up on Mount Wudang…

“Huh? No.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know much about them either, but I heard they’ve been running the guild in Danjiangkou for three generations.”

“Three generations?”

Three generations meant at least sixty years.

If he still hadn’t heard of them… they were small fry.

An insignificant merchant guild.

And the owner of a guild like that was getting such treatment from Jinhye, a first-generation disciple of Wudang?

The way they climbed the mountain made the hierarchy clear.

Though a guest, the guildmaster showed no hesitation about walking ahead, and Jinhye followed as though it were only natural.

However far they’ve fallen, a distinguished sect ought to have some pride… And they’re bowing and scraping to some no-name merchant outfit? Well, well.

A strange look came into Jinmu’s eyes.

He remembered his own visit to Wudang long ago.

The eyes of Myeongjin and the disciples, glaring at him with bitter hatred, refusing to bow even after three of the Eight Palaces had been burned and their leaders slaughtered.

He might have despised the Taoist sect, but Wudang had been that unyielding.

Something was definitely going on.

The guildmaster’s face, in particular, struck him instinctively as vile.

That man could bring no good to a distinguished sect like Wudang.

“You lot.”

The disciples of the Cheong generation turned to Jinmu.

“Let’s head up.”

“What? But the work isn’t…”

“Forget it. Just tidy that crap up.”

“…”

“And you two…”

Looking at their faces, Jinmu heaved a sigh deep enough to sink the ground.

“Go wash your faces.”

“…”

“And wipe the grease off your mouths.”

---

The elders and first-generation disciples had all gathered in the inner hall of Purple Firmament Palace, Wudang’s main palace, to welcome their long-awaited guest.

“Geum Jeoksan of the Cheongyang Merchant Guild greets the sect leader of Wudang.”

“Welcome.”

With a slight bow, Geum Jeoksan took the seat Myeonghyeon offered him.

Those gathered in the great hall of Purple Firmament Palace.

Sect Leader Myeonghyeon and Geum Jeoksan sat side by side in the center.

Beside them sat the elders who presided over the Eight Palaces, headed by Myeonggong, master of Yeongeun Palace, with the first-generation disciples standing behind them.

The members of the merchant guild took their places opposite.

“Bring it here.”

At Geum Jeoksan’s command, a powerfully built man with fierce, tigerlike eyes brought over a chest.

“I have prepared a modest gift in return for your kind invitation.”

When the chest opened before him, Myeonghyeon could not hide his astonishment at the neatly arranged silver ingots inside.

“S-so much…”

Geum Jeoksan did not miss the tremor in the eyes of this man who had cultivated the Tao for so long.

“Much? I only hope it will be of some help to Wudang.”

“Ho ho. We are fortunate that you think so kindly of us.”

Myeonghyeon smiled in satisfaction, and pleased expressions spread across the elders’ faces.

“And I do not know whether they will meet with your approval, but after hearing of Wudang’s recent circumstances, I prepared a few other things.”

At a glance from Geum Jeoksan, more bundles were brought inside.

When they were unpacked, out came an abundance of swords with well-honed edges, whetstones, and other supplies martial artists needed.

“Oh!”

The elders exclaimed in admiration again and again.

Myeongseon, the master of Wonhwa Hall responsible for Wudang’s household affairs, felt like applauding.

How often had Myeongseon felt sorry for the disciples?

How often had it been necessary to scold them to make things last?

Over a decade of worsening finances had left Myeongseon unable even to have new training clothes made for the disciples as needed. It had always been a thorn in the heart.

“Guildmaster, I hardly know how to thank you for such thoughtfulness.”

“Not at all. I am the one who should thank Wudang for forming ties with a merchant guild such as ours. And do we not owe all of this to our acquaintance with Taoist Jinhye?”

At Geum Jeoksan’s words, Myeonghyeon nodded and looked warmly at Jinhye.

The first-generation disciple Jinhye.

A son of a fairly prominent family in Danjiangkou, he was Myeonggong’s disciple.

Thirty years old this year and a proud member of the Seven of Wudang, he was a Wudang swordsman with a promising future.

“Ho ho. Our Jinhye has done us a great service. Thanks to him, Wudang can breathe a little easier.”

“Indeed. Without Taoist Jinhye, how could I ever have dared hope to meet such renowned figures of the orthodox martial world in person? We owe it all to him.”

Standing in attendance behind Myeonggong, Jinhye answered Geum Jeoksan’s praise politely.

“You flatter me, Guildmaster. You embarrass me before the sect leader and elders.”

“Oh dear. I have made a mistake.”

As Geum Jeoksan apologized, Myeonghyeon waved a hand.

“No, no. A mistake? Ho ho. Jinhye, there is no need for such modesty. We all greatly appreciate your role in forging so fine a connection. Wouldn’t you agree, Junior Brother?”

Myeonggong shrugged at Myeonghyeon’s words and replied.

“The sect leader is right. You have done nothing contrary to propriety, Jinhye. Put your mind at ease.”

“Yes.”

At his master’s words, Jinhye scratched the back of his head and respectfully stepped back.

“Guildmaster, I ought to offer you proper hospitality, but I fear our Taoist order has little in the way of entertainment.”

“Not at all. I came expecting nothing, so please do not trouble yourself. If you would simply allow me to stop at a temple on my way back and pray for illness and evil to be driven from my family, that will be enough.”

Such a prayer was meant to drive away sickness and malevolent forces.

Though it had been during the sect’s heyday, every visitor had once sought some way to draw upon Wudang’s power. How could this man ask so little?

His thoughtfulness left Myeonghyeon and the elders even more pleased, and each cast an approving glance at Jinhye, who had brought them together with the Cheongyang Merchant Guild.

“Well, you must be busy. We shall take our leave.”

“Ho ho. What could keep mountain Taoists so busy?”

“I appreciate your kindness. The truth is, as a man of the secular world, I find it rather difficult to feel at ease in a Taoist temple.”

“Ho ho. You were being tactful, and I was too slow to understand.”

Myeonghyeon nodded, once more reflecting deeply on his earlier thoughts.

Geum Jeoksan, master of the Cheongyang Merchant Guild.

Jinhye had cautiously introduced him to Myeonghyeon, who had long been tormented by Wudang’s financial troubles.

The sect’s diminished standing had left him desperate enough to grasp at straws. Yet what had he thought when he first saw the man?

A goatee and shifty-looking eyes.

Unfamiliar with worldly affairs, he had heard little of the rumors about him, but judging by his appearance alone, this had not been a man he particularly wished to associate with.

Yet the more they met and talked, the more he liked his character.

Ho ho. All my cultivation of the Tao has been for nothing. How could I judge a man by his appearance and fail to see his true worth?

Was it because he now felt this way?

Contrary to his first impression, even Geum Jeoksan’s appearance grew more pleasing the longer he looked at him.

“Guildmaster Geum. However ill at ease you may feel, I would regret letting you leave just like this. Please, at least take a look around Wudang’s temples and watch our youngsters train before you go.”

“Since you insist, I shall gladly accept.”

“Ha ha. Thank you.”

“Then I shall wait outside.”

With a courteous bow, Geum Jeoksan left Purple Firmament Palace with the members of his guild.