Chapter 313: The Fire in Chang’an (15)

Jangheung Guild was the top trading company in all of Shaanxi.

And the way a trading company flaunted its wealth—be it past, present, or future—never really changed.

You buy up a prime piece of land worth its weight in gold, build a big, imposing structure on it, slap your sign up high and proud, and boom—any passerby would think, Now that’s the house of a real powerhouse.

So naturally, where else would Shaanxi’s top guild set up shop?

Right at the very start—or end—of Chang’an Street.

There, a massive wall had been raised, long and unbroken as if to divide the heavens themselves.

It was just about a thirty-minute walk from the spot where Cheong had made his public accusations. In other words, right next door.

As soon as cries of “Down with Jangheung Guild! Kill the bastards!” rang out, there were those in the crowd whose faces drained of color and bolted—

They sprinted straight to the side entrance of the guild, huffing and puffing as they passed through.

Of course, the larger the organization, the stricter the hierarchy.

At a place like Jangheung Guild, you couldn’t just walk in and meet the Guildmaster directly.

“Something’s wrong! Something terrible is happening in the market square—!”

The market's packed! The river’s overflowing! Assassins are stabbing! Carpenters are screaming! And Jangheung Guild’s the goddamn culprit!

“What in the—?! This is serious! I’ve gotta report this right away—!”

And off they went, pounding the halls.

“Disaster! There’s chaos in the market square—!”

“What? What’s going on? Damn it, start with the report already! What in heaven’s name is happening!?”

And again, the hurried footsteps echoed.

“A crisis! The marketplace—!”

Passing along secondhand accounts from one mouth to another, it was the kind of rumor relay game you'd see in some tacky TV sketch.

Cheong would’ve scoffed and said it looked like something out of a children’s program.

But even in urgent situations, there was a proper chain of command.

Skipping protocol could later come back to bite you in the ass—

So naturally, everyone reported things up the ladder, step by step.

If you didn’t, you’d only screw yourself over.

Eventually, the vice-chief who got the news secondhand climbed the stairs and was finally granted an audience with the Guildmaster.

“What’s with the racket? Did a warehouse catch fire or something?”

The Guildmaster, Nam Munseong, muttered disinterestedly as he gently stroked a prized orchid.

The man figured—even if one of the dozens of warehouses had caught fire, it wasn’t worth making a fuss over.

“The marketplace... there’s a huge crowd gathering.”

“And? You think they’re gonna storm the place or something?”

“They are! That’s exactly what’s happening—!”

As the vice-chief breathlessly rattled off the details, Nam Munseong, who had been tending to his orchid, suddenly ripped the leaf clean off.

“What the hell! The flood control project?! No, no—get Hae-ah. Call her here, now!”

Nam Munseong was only fifty-four. Young if you looked at it one way, old if you looked another.

But from the outside, he looked like he was pushing eighty.

When he inherited the family business, it had been a modest shop on the outskirts of the city—

Now, it was the most famous guild in all of Shaanxi.

Thirty-five years of back-breaking work had aged him fast.

The suffering of youth becomes the chronic illness of old age.

Even with top-tier tonics and personal physicians, whenever it rained, his entire body would ache so badly he couldn’t stand, sit, or lie down without groaning.

So he’d gathered his children and declared, Show me what you’re made of. Whoever proves themselves the greatest merchant will inherit Jangheung Guild.

The one leading the race was his youngest daughter, Nam Munhae.

She’d landed the flood control contract and utterly outpaced her older brothers.

In fact, not just her siblings—the gold she brought in from that single construction job set a new record for the entire guild.

She’d hauled in enough to fill two carts just with gold—not even counting the silver.

So the moment he heard the news, he understood.

Ah... she got greedy. And now she’s brought a catastrophe down on us.

Even without his decades of experience, it was a story so obvious that anyone could have seen it coming.

And then—

“Summon the Guildmaster! The Guildmaster must answer for this!”

“Answer for it!!! Answer for it!!!”

“Jangheung Guild must explain! Explain yourselves!”

“Explain!!! Explain!!!”

A woman’s clear, ringing voice cut through the air, followed by the thunderous chant of the crowd.

The very ground trembled.

Even now, reports were slowly trickling their way up the chain of command—

The crowds were massing in front of the guild’s main gates.

Sure, it was an urgent situation. Maybe it would’ve made sense to skip a few steps in the reporting process.

But the fault for this rigidity in procedure? That lay squarely with Nam Munseong.

He was the one who’d spent years preaching hierarchy and order.

The people of the Central Plains were the kind to protect themselves first and foremost—

They weren’t about to skip protocol and risk being blamed later.

Still, while reports were crawling upward, time had run out.

No matter how grand the estate, a wall isn’t a fortress and a gate isn’t a barricade.

No man-made barrier could stop the approach of a martial arts master.

Luckily, Cheong didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of marching up only to double back.

It was sheer dumb luck.

The roads extending north and south of Chang’an Street’s main intersection weren’t nearly as wide as the east-west stretch—

So Cheong had a fifty-fifty shot at picking the right side. And he picked right.

With a confident tak tak tak, he reached the gates of Jangheung Guild, a long trail of people marching behind him.

By then, word had reached the guards—

The front gates were shut tight, with doormen standing at attention, spears in hand.

“Excuse me, we’d like to see the Guildmaster—”

“P-Please leave.”

This guy cut him off before he could even finish.

Cheong ignored him and continued.

“—and we ask you to open the gates.”

“That’s not possible. Please turn back. If you don’t—”

The doorman trailed off, his voice trembling. If you don’t, what? Then what?

Cheong’s eyes gleamed, seizing the opening.

“If we don’t turn back, what will you do?”

Yeah? What the hell are you gonna do?

You gonna stab someone with that spear in front of all these people?

“W-We’ll report it to the authorities!”

“To the government office? Through this crowd?”

“U-Uh. Well. Now that you mention it...”

The doorman faltered.

“So what’s your plan?”

“Please, my lord, I’m just doing my job... could you please consider my position, just this once?”

“Nope. Then I guess we’ll have to do this the martial way. Everyone, step back—it might get rough.”

“W-Wait a second—!”

What could a mere gatekeeper do before a master of martial arts?

Still, credit to him for at least trying to stop them.

He could say he tried.

A glint of starlight sliced vertically through the center of the great gate.

The iron bolt, thicker than a man’s thigh, was no match for Sword Aura unless wielded by a true martial warrior.

“Eep!”

Seeing the aura ripple like a blade of starlight, the guard stumbled backward in fright.

Cheong took that as his cue and flung the gate wide open.

Enemy foot soldiers—defeated!

With a brisk tak tak tak, Cheong strode forward like he owned the place.

Behind him, the crowd surged in, spirits soaring sky-high.

Not that they knew why they were fired up—just that they were.

And so, Cheong claimed the courtyard of Jangheung Guild—vast enough to rival the mansion itself.

He stood tall, leading the people just as he’d seen done in his youth.

“Jangheung Guild must explain their corruption in the flood control project!”

“Explain!!!”

Once a crowd hit a certain size, people stopped thinking.

So those packed into the courtyard simply echoed Cheong’s words—

Not bothering to wonder where this came from or why they were even here.

But the noise only grew.

Curious passersby peered through the open gates, stepping inside and asking—

“What’s going on here? A party?”

“Nope. It’s a public execution. Here’s the deal...”

“Unbelievable! These bastards are monsters! EXPLAIN YOURSELVES! ANSWER FOR YOUR CRIMES!”

And at last, the heavy-ass Guildmaster finally dragged himself out in front of Cheong, the Sword of Heaven.

Cheong took one look at him and thought:

Yeah. This wrinkly bastard’s a real piece of shit.

Judging from the karmic stench left by the carpenter, this geezer’s been living like a dog long before the flood project.

In truth, the idea that reputation boosted sales was a highly advanced marketing theory—

Something only formalized in the far future.

In the Western lands, there would someday be a genius propagandist and fabricator known as Brother Bae.

He would go on to revolutionize breakfast culture—

Convincing the hearty breakfast-loving Westerners to start gobbling down eggs and smoked pig every morning.

His influence would inspire a follower named Brother Gwe, renowned in his own right.

In Brother Bae’s Doctrine of Sales, reputation and image first appeared as concepts.

A new lens on commerce, a new world entirely.

A paradigm shift that rewrote the merchant worldview.

In Cheong’s homeland, no one doubted the importance of reputation in business.

But in this ancient, primitive, barbaric Central Plains?

There was no such thing.

If you were a famous merchant here, you were, by definition, a bastard who delighted in exploiting others.

Sure, they had something called “merchant’s code” that emphasized coexistence, generosity, and sharing.

But like all such virtues, they only existed because merchants never coexisted, gave, or shared.

So when Cheong saw Nam Munseong’s wicked karma, he thought,

Wow. What a damnable old bastard.

And judged him on the spot.

He’d been wondering how far the guilt should extend, given that the culprit was the Guild’s young lady.

But now, he had his answer.

Execution.

“What do you think you’re doing! Have you no fear of the law!? How dare you barge in like bandits and stir up this madness!”

Hm. Why do they all say the same kind of crap?

Cheong answered smoothly.

“Oh? Then take a look at this. Shiny, isn’t it?”

He raised his sword, letting the Sword Aura glimmer like icy starlight.

“Say I am the leader of some bandit gang. Say I broke in with a mob. What exactly could you do about it, Guildmaster?

Draw your own blade? Sure. I’ll give you a hundred moves.

You’ll die on the hundred and first.”

Blatant threat.

Nam Munseong choked on his words.

So what are you going to do about it?

That was the literal meaning—and if Cheong actually looted the place now, not even the Guild’s resident warriors could stop him.

But Nam Munseong wasn’t some low-level doorman.

He was a tycoon who’d built an empire.

The weight of his wealth gave him a thick, hardened skin—not even human anymore.

“You really are the leader of a band of thieves? You think the law will let you walk free if you plunder this guild?”

“Oh, right. The law. You said you were close—like sworn brothers—with the Provincial Inspector of Shaanxi, didn’t you?”

“Hmph. I merely hold the Inspector in great respect.”

The Provincial Inspector was the highest-ranking official in the province.

Even if Jangheung was the biggest guild in Shaanxi, a mere merchant couldn’t admit to being on equal footing with such a man.

So of course Nam Munseong denied it.

But still—“sworn brothers”, he said.

To that, Cheong replied.

“Then go ahead. Call the authorities.”

“What? You really think your bluff is going to—?”

“But are you sure you want to call them?”

Cheong smiled.

A sly, vicious smile.

“Because if the criminal who dared to sabotage a flood control project—

His Majesty’s own benevolent decree—just to steal gold and silver...

If that criminal is right here,

wouldn’t the Inspector himself...

or even the Censorate...

be duty-bound to arrest them on the spot?”