Chapter 997: Live a Good Life (10)

Hyung Taejak led his men to the signboard craftsman.

The reason he’d deliberately brought unit members along was simple: the craftsman might try to scam them—jack up the price, pull some trick.

The Evil Path Alliance had issued a strict order not to cause trouble, so he couldn’t use “the Evil Path thug way,” but a crowd of sturdy men had its own intimidation. Sometimes mere presence was pressure.

So they swarmed the signboard craftsman’s workshop.

“Five strings of gold.”

Without even making the outing feel worthwhile, the craftsman said it calmly—an outrageous number.

“What? Five strings of what? Guys, did I hear that right? Did you say five strings of silver?”

“Great Lord, he says five strings of gold.”

“What? Five strings of gold? You’re saying I heard right? Hah—does that even make sense? You think I look like some ignorant swordsman you can fleece?”

“Come on. Would he really try that against an elite combat corps of the Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition?”

For an ordinary merchant, it would’ve been enough to make their knees go weak and cold sweat burst out.

But the signboard craftsman stayed proud.

“Tsk, tsk. Master Brush Divine Mak Sunda’s calligraphy for five strings of gold is practically free. If you don’t want it, don’t buy it.”

Brush Divine Mak Sunda?

Hyung Taejak blinked.

He might be a martial artist, but he didn’t know ink-slingers’ names—had never even heard of them. Still, the epithet “Brush Divine” didn’t sound ordinary.

Hyung Taejak glanced at his subordinates.

Have any of you heard of this?

They all had the same blank look.

“Listen, old man. My learning might be short, but I’m not so clueless I don’t know how the world works. How does one signboard cost five strings of gold? You think because I look dumb, I’m actually dumb?”

In fact, Hyung Taejak was fairly sharp—cunning, even—despite his looks.

A signboard was the face of a place, and further, the face of the group that owned it, sure. But that didn’t mean you offered up five strings of gold.

And besides—

“And you said the writing’s already done. If you don’t sell a finished signboard, what, you’re going to hug it for the rest of your life? If it’s like this, we can’t buy it. No—we won’t.”

That was exactly it.

If it already had “Heaven Under Heaven Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition” carved onto it, who could they even sell it to besides the Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition?

But the craftsman stayed proud.

“If you won’t buy it, then leave. If I take Master Mak Sunda’s calligraphy to the northern capital or the southlands, do you think five strings of gold would be the issue? After Master Mak Sunda passes away, the price of his remaining works will obviously rise, so even rich illiterates scramble to buy Brush Divine calligraphy.”

This... wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Hyung Taejak felt a flicker of panic.

He studied the man closely, trying to see if it was bluff—but the craftsman looked like someone who genuinely wouldn’t lose anything either way.

Then the craftsman let out a heavy sigh.

“Just look at the writing yourself. Master Mak Sunda’s calligraphy has feeling. Even someone totally illiterate would be moved. If you look and still think it isn’t worth five strings, then just go.”

“No, it’s that good? If someone that great lived around here, shouldn’t there already be a line out front to beg for a piece?”

“Master Mak Sunda only wrote one piece because he came to look at the Yangtze for a while and ran short on travel money. This isn’t even the work he meant to do. Haa... just look with your own eyes.”

With another deep sigh, the craftsman turned and slipped inside as if to say, follow me.

At this point, Hyung Taejak’s stubbornness ignited too.

Fine. Let’s see what kind of writing is so “moving.”

And then—

The feeling was right there.

The strokes stretched out boldly, yet never once strayed from the proper path—like a mountain range holding its center with the weight of ten thousand geun.

Those strokes gathered and became characters.

Every stroke carried the presence of a master flaunting peerless skill, yet they did not compete—they harmonized. And the calligraphy formed from that harmony looked like it had achieved the Great Blade itself.

Even Hyung Taejak, who didn’t know calligraphy, felt a thick surge of emotion.

Hyung Taejak had always felt proud, as an Evil Path thug, every time he saw the grand signboard at the current headquarters of the Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition.

But now he would never feel that pride again.

Because the true signboard of the Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition was here.

The Golden Hawk Unit members looked moved too.

Even at a glance, it was far cooler than the headquarters’ signboard—so cool that even people who didn’t understand calligraphy could understand it.

“Do you understand this feeling? Honestly, I don’t even feel like selling it. Truthfully, I want to make it a family treasure and pass it down.”

The signboard craftsman, who’d been so calm before, now spoke with trembling passion—maximum purity, maximum sincerity.

Because it was real sincerity.

This was the writing of a Supreme Divine Religion Lord—of the Heavenly Maiden. It wasn’t writing of this world. It was a treasure without equal in the human world.

“This is... right. Five strings, you said? Wait here. I’ll bring it right away.”

Hyung Taejak’s attitude flipped instantly.

A clean promise—no haggling.

Because after seeing it with his own eyes, it really did look like writing worth five strings.

And he’d said the price would rise if it was left alone.

So Hyung Taejak hurried back to the medical academy.

“No.”

Yeom Hwiyoung shook his head firmly.

It was a firm refusal to Hyung Taejak’s request to take operating funds to pay for the signboard.

Hyung Taejak’s expression twisted.

“What do you mean no? If we’re hanging a signboard for the medical academy, what else are operating funds for? In the first place, twenty of those fifty strings were brought as expansion costs—why not?”

“It was money for the expansion work, not a budget for hanging a signboard. And you’re not even hanging a new signboard for the medical academy—you’re hanging the Evil Path Alliance’s signboard, you said? Then it’s a different story.”

This brat really knew how to invite a fist.

If Hyung Taejak had followed his temper, he’d have swung several times already—but endure it. Yeah. Hyung Taejak’s temper has really mellowed...

“Then let’s do this. We’ll use the budget for now, and I’ll contact the main coalition to replenish the signboard payment. That works, right?”

“No.”

Yeom Hwiyoung was firm again.

“No—why?!”

“You must not run a fixed budget in another way. ‘Take it out in an emergency and fill it back later’? That’s reserves, or emergency cash. That isn’t called a budget.”

“I’m saying I’ll fill it back exactly!”

“If you pull a budget out even once like that, you’ll do it again. And eventually your thinking changes—your heart changes—your entire attitude toward what a budget is changes. You’ll start spending amounts you wouldn’t have spent before. ‘We have a budget anyway, just pull it over for now.’ Like that.”

It was righteous—righteous to the point of being unbearable.

And there was nothing that made people angrier than righteousness.

Yeah, yeah, who doesn’t know it’s right? We’re saying be flexible—if you nitpick righteousness like that, how does the world even function?

So Hyung Taejak’s insides were bubbling, boiling, scorching hot.

“Hm. Then let’s do this. I’ll lend you the signboard price. You want to do good work, so I won’t be stingy and charge interest. I’ll lend it from my own pocket, and later, when the main coalition sends the signboard payment, you repay me. How about it?”

An interest-free loan.

Any normal person would feel deeply grateful.

Because lending money without interest?

The lender could safely deposit and grow that money and still earn income. Likewise, the borrower could deposit and grow it and profit for free.

In other words, lending money at zero interest was the same as handing over at least the profit from a normal interest rate—basically, giving money away.

So naturally, you’d hold gratitude, stay in contact, check in, reassure them—at minimum, that was what a person should do.

But non-people didn’t do that.

Look at this bastard. Lending me money?

They said when you borrow money, you lie face-down to beg for it, and when you repay it, you sit in the seat of honor and toss it.

A guy you already hate is offering to lend you money—if you don’t repay him, what’s he going to do?

And besides, if the main coalition sends the signboard payment, Hyung Taejak could just swallow five strings of gold.

Hyung Taejak let out a vile little laugh.

If someone heard what he was thinking, they’d be speechless.

If you want to die, at least do it neatly—out of all the good options, you’re going to steal a Mystical Realm master’s money?

Does that mean you don’t want to live?

Of course, Hyung Taejak could feel wronged.

Because he didn’t know.

“Ah—right. Then... can we divert the signboard cost from the construction budget?”

“Hm. It’s a bit ambiguous, but since we’ll be using labor for the medical academy’s expansion anyway, if you treat it as spending goodwill to get on familiar terms with the carpenters, it isn’t strange to use public funds.”

And so Hyung Taejak—who knew absolutely nothing—grabbed five strings of gold and marched cheerfully toward the signboard craftsman’s workshop.

They said you should pull an ox horn out in one breath.

Hyung Taejak immediately rounded up carpenters.

While they measured the front gate and the spot to hang the signboard, Hyung Taejak examined the medical academy’s original signboard.

Sasa Medical Academy’s signboard had its own style, but if an even bigger, even cooler signboard for the Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition hung beneath it?

Anyone who looked would only see the Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition’s signboard. And if so, wasn’t the Grand Leader’s order essentially completed?

And once the Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition’s branch chief sat proudly in place here—who would that be?

It would be me. Hyung Taejak!

Hyung Taejak was grinning to himself when a carpenter approached and asked,

“Uh... sir? When is the government office’s tax clerk coming?”

A tax clerk was a government office functionary responsible for tax collection and the work tied to land and corvée.

“Why do we need a tax clerk to hang a signboard?”

“Well, to hang a signboard, don’t you have to report it to the government office, register the land in the ledger, and proceed with the work under the tax clerk’s confirmation?”

By the book, yes—but in practice, it was usually skipped.

Because petty shops didn’t bother registering in the land ledger (taxes that weren’t in the ledger tended to vanish somewhere), and big projects usually came after the boss had already built “friendly relations” with the officials through money and gifts.

But Hyung Taejak didn’t know that.

How would a man who was merely a combat corps commander know such business details?

The cashier from the Administrative Hall who’d been dispatched with them did know—but Hyung Taejak ordered the signboard so naturally that the cashier assumed he’d already handled it.

“Goddamn—hanging one signboard is dirty hard.”

So Hyung Taejak complained and headed for the government office.

“You’re hanging a signboard at the medical academy? Are you acquiring the whole thing?”

“That’s right.”

The tax clerk hesitated.

He stared at Hyung Taejak with a look that said, Who the hell are you, speaking casually?—then immediately dropped his gaze with a flinch under the aura of a Transformation Realm martial artist.

“Ahem. Then—where are you acquiring it from? What’s the content of the signboard? Fees are one tael of silver per character, and if it exceeds eight characters, then instead, it’s one tael of gold for each extra character.”

Hearing there was yet another unexpected expense, Hyung Taejak’s face twisted.

What—there was a tax just to hang a signboard? And they were hanging eleven characters. That meant over eight, so no silver—three extra characters, so three taels of gold.

These bastards were definitely skimming.

No—“seems like” wasn’t it. They were obviously skimming. Central Plains officials were never trustworthy in this area.

But he couldn’t pick a fight with the government office either.

A realization hit him: he’d started this wrong.

The moment he arrived, he should’ve greased the county magistrate and built relationships with the officials first.

Still, he could grease them after acquiring the medical academy—besides, he could probably get introduced through that one-eyed bastard “northern-capital noble.”

Hyung Taejak continued the report—

“Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition? So you’re an Evil Path Alliance demonic mas—khm, martial artist?”

He’d clearly been about to say demonic master bastard, but Hyung Taejak only frowned. It wasn’t like he’d been treated kindly for the first time today.

“Fine. So can I go hang the signboard now?”

“No, wait a moment. Evil Path Alliance? Something about this is strange.”

“What’s strange?! Is it strange because our Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition is doing charity work? Why! We can do charity work too!”

Hyung Taejak shouted.

“No—misunderstanding, misunderstanding. That isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what is it?!”

“Th-the thing is... hanging the Evil Path Alliance’s signboard—there’s no way the Priestess Order Temple would permit that, is there?”

“What?! Why! Why do we have to get the Priestess Order Temple’s permission for our Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition’s business? Do you think we’re a joke?!”

The tax clerk went pale and hurried to explain.

“No, it’s not that—sir, please calm down. It’s the national law, what can I do?”

It was an even more respectful excuse now.

But Hyung Taejak was speechless.

“National law? Getting the Priestess Order Temple’s permission to hang a signboard is national law?”

“Yes, yes. There’s no choice, truly.”

With the tax clerk’s posture completely lowered, Hyung Taejak’s agitation eased too.

Of course, it was still ridiculous.

“Why? Why does our Evil Path Thug Grand Coalition have to ask those Priestess Order Temple women for permission just to hang a signboard? Why is that national law?”

The tax clerk tucked his neck, watching Hyung Taejak’s face as he answered—

“Because... that land belongs to the Priestess Order Temple...?”