Chapter 297: Off Track (9)

Yura Dal had chosen to stay on as a live-in guest at Jangheung Sangbang to repay the debt of his daughter’s life.

Originally, Yura Dal was a man of exacting calculation.

But when it came to the value of his daughter’s life, he had no idea how to measure it.

He figured—if anything—it should be as high as possible.

It wasn’t like Jangheung Sangbang was treating him poorly.

But still, for them to use a Hwagyeong-tier master like he was one of their own? The price didn’t quite match.

So he stayed on, paying off that difference in service.

That was why Yura Dal remained.

And now it had been over five years.

He figured—someday, I’ll feel like it’s enough. That I’ve paid the debt. When that day comes, I’ll leave.

And now... he felt like this was that day.

Yeah. He’d paid the price of his daughter’s life in full.

Yura Dal was an old man.

His era in Murim was the distant past—faded memories of when he was in his prime.

That was back when Seomun Surin hadn’t yet gone into seclusion—her final days in the public eye.

In Yura Dal’s opinion, Seomun Surin could be summed up in a single line:

“The most petty, grudge-holding master in all of Murim.”

And now he was about to get on the bad side of the most foul-tempered supreme master in the land?

That didn’t add up.

Thinking back, saving his daughter wasn’t even that expensive.

Just a common fever, the kind kids get all the time.

Sure, it saved her life—but the medical fee and the life debt weren’t the same thing.

Still, five years seemed more than enough.

A Hwagyeong-tier master hanging around like part of the household had brought Jangheung Sangbang no small benefit.

Even if no one said it aloud, the public saw him as one of theirs.

He’d probably added two pillars to their damn foundation.

That should more than cover his daughter’s life.

But the real reason he hadn’t left yet—was that the longer he stayed, the more valuable his daughter became.

That was the rationalized denial he’d been dragging around.

Besides, he was a rogue.

And aging rogues? They always got itchy feet.

Those who remained vagabonds even into old age were cursed with wanderlust from birth.

But he couldn’t take his daughter wandering with him.

She deserved a good husband.

Someone better than him.

Not some dumb bastard swinging a sword who didn’t even know he had a kid—

But a steady, capable man who’d adore his wife and treasure her.

That was why Yura Dal stayed—to raise her value by staying in service.

A truly rogue-like way of calculating things.

But yeah... this was enough.

And there was something else he wanted to ask—since she was from Shinnyeo Gate.

“Kid. Tell me—does Shinnyeo Gate take named disciples? I was thinking of leaving my girl with them for a few years.

And maybe... if so, they’d teach her at least one martial art?”

Qing thought to herself: Wait what? Is this a recruitment inquiry?

“Sir, well, our sect doesn’t turn women away.

But we don’t distinguish between noble or humble birth—everyone trains, works, eats, and sleeps together. It’s a hard life.”

“I’m not asking you to treat her like some princess.

Everyone should work for what they get.

But I’ve heard Shinnyeo Gate’s martial arts are especially good for women.”

He was talking about the Seonnyeo Techniques.

Everything in Shinnyeo Gate—from internal arts to sword forms and movement techniques—was steeped in those “immortal maiden” effects.

That’s why Shinnyeo disciples were always absurdly good-looking by default.

“Ah. Yes, that’s true. But, sir, aren’t your own martial arts already famous across the realm?”

“Don’t get me started.

Each link on this iron whip weighs more than two geun. The whole thing weighs twenty.

You think that’s something a woman can swing around?

If I’d known, I’d have trained with a damn sword instead.”

“This weapon requires brute strength.

And even if I do find someone to pass it to—nobody wants to learn.

That’s why all the weird old weapons are disappearing from Murim.

Not that I ever wanted to start a school or anything—but still. It’s a shame.”

He let out a deep sigh.

“Even if someone had the strength—who cares?

Nobody’s interested in this kind of weapon.

That's why exotic arms are dying out.”

“My daughter’s almost of age now.

I’ve been thinking I should go out and find her a proper suitor.

Can’t take her wandering around forever.

So I thought... maybe I’d ask about Shinnyeo Gate.

But I need a real plan.”

He wanted to drop her off, then go off searching for a son-in-law.

Qing tilted her head.

Shouldn’t the daughter pick her own husband?

So she asked.

“Wouldn’t it be better to find a suitor with your daughter?”

“Tch. What’s blood if not a mirror? She’s my damn clone.

If I’d had long hair in my youth, she was me.

I saw her and just knew. That’s my kid.”

Qing tried to picture Yura Dal with long hair.

Which was... horrifying.

“Hmm.”

“So what good is dragging her around while I look?

She’d just get annoyed.

Probably blame me for her looks.

At the very least, I should help her train with Seonnyeo Techniques—compensate for my ugly genes.”

What is this? A therapy session?

Apparently, worrying over your kid’s future was universal—whether you were from Murim or Qing’s old world.

“Aigo. Where the hell am I supposed to find a good man?

What’s his name—Nangyacha Yeok Taegang? I heard he’s decent for a rogue.

But he’s still a rogue, right?

Isn’t that a type that ditches wife and kids and runs off at the drop of a hat?”

“Oing.”

Qing blinked.

Nangyacha? Sounded familiar...

Then again, that was one hell of a flashy alias.

Probably heard it in passing somewhere.

“Bah. You don’t know a good man anywhere?

Someone with a bit of money, looks decent—

No, never mind the looks.

Hardworking. Loyal. Loyalty, yeah. That’s the real thing.”

This really was turning into a counseling session.

“Uh, sir? Sorry to interrupt, but...”

“Ah. Right. Tch.

There’ll be rumors after this.

An old bastard ruining his image in broad daylight.

Whatever.

It’s not like I’ve got much image left anyway.

What reputation does an old rogue have...”

And with that, the Gujeol Rogue, Yura Dal, mumbled his way offstage and wandered away.

Did I... win? Qing wondered.

Well. He left. So that probably meant she could pass.

****

“Branch Chief! Emergency! It’s a crisis! The damn invaders have reached the inner residence!”

“What!? But wasn’t the old man holding them off!?”

“Well... he said... five years was probably enough to repay the debt...

So he decided to go home...”

“Why—why NOW!? Why today of all times!?”

This is why you don’t trust Murim bastards!

And especially not rogues!

Even after that, the branch chief still couldn’t contain his fury, and he muttered one more thing under his breath:

“You could’ve at least finished the damn job!”

Just walking off in the middle, saying he’d done enough and calling it quits? That was too much. No—way too much.

If he’d paid the debt midway, then fine—say so, and charge for services going forward.

But to just disappear right when the Sangbang was hanging on by a thread?

Well... technically it was only the branch chief whose ass was on the line.

What did it matter to the main Sangbang if they lost a single branch in Naknyeong?

Hell, Naknyeong wasn’t even part of their home turf in Shaanxi Province.

But a chief who loses their branch? They’re done.

No further explanation needed.

He was like a defective wagon wheel—just swap it out and move on.

As the branch chief shook with frustration, a murmur of voices grew louder outside the central office.

“Branch chief? Hello? We know you’re in there. Not coming out?”

The voice was beautiful.

As lovely as any in the world.

And never in his life had he imagined that such a beautiful voice could sound this terrifying.

“Huh? Is the person in charge not here?”

“Branch chief?”

“Ahem. Let’s just wait. If we don’t respond at all, what can she do? She’ll give up and go away.”

“Wow. So the person in charge isn’t even here?

In that case, if we just start emptying the warehouse, who’s going to stop us?

Everyone, let’s not take too much—just a little donation.

Just take as much as you can carry.”

She didn’t even give him time to try stalling.

“Branch chief?”

“Khh. Fine. I came up from nothing too, you know.

If you’re a merchant, you’ve got to handle things like a merchant—through negotiation!”

And with that, the branch chief finally hauled his heavy ass up and opened the central office doors with great fanfare, stepping boldly out before the crowd.

He declared:

“Oh, Lady! This won’t do!

Whether your name is well-known or not, when visiting someone’s home—be it a grand tiled estate or a shabby thatched hut—

It’s basic courtesy to send word ahead and wait for permission.

And yet you come barging into the Sangbang, dragging a horde of people behind you?”

Qing stared, speechless, at the man kneeling at the front hall, looking like he might throw himself to the floor in tears.

She took a moment to compose her response.

“Of course I know it’s rude, and I’m ashamed.

But when floodwaters swept through the city, breaking the very gates,

The devastation was beyond words, and this is a time when grief soaks the ground with tears.

I only came, with good intentions, hoping to offer what little comfort I could.”

“Oh, Lady. Your intentions are fine, but still—couldn’t we have set a proper appointment later?

We merchants solve things with dialogue, negotiation.”

“Branch chief?

From what I’ve heard—

While people are starving right this moment after a natural disaster,

There are sons of bitches out here who jacked up the price of grain thirty times, forty times, even fifty times, just to gouge the desperate.”

“Oh dear, Lady, please consider my position.

I’m just a lowly branch chief. What authority do I have to open up grain stores or sell at a discount?

I’m only doing what the main office tells me.

I’m just a servant. What could I possibly do?”

This was the ultimate merchant’s escape tactic:

“I have no authority.”

“Take it up with someone higher.”

“I don’t know who that is. You figure it out.”

It only worked if your opponent was a powerless individual with no leverage.

But Qing?

Qing’s tongue alone had once emptied the pockets of the Grand Elder of the Tang Clan.

And now she had a crowd behind her.

Her words carried the force of a damn earthquake.

Besides, Jangheung Sangbang was guilty as hell.

They hadn’t wanted to sell grain at a fair price, so they’d pulled in the Hyunseung, rallied the top disciples from Naknyeong Wuguan, and even brought in a Hwagyeong-tier master.

Let’s be real—if they had the silver to orchestrate that, they had more than enough to dump the entire grain stock and still come out ahead.

And since they were so stingy they’d rather waste that much silver defending their hoard—

It was obvious they’d pass those “defense expenses” on to the grain price too, milking every last coin out of people’s misery.

Which meant their guilt was a hundredfold.