The Elixir Already Has an Owner (2)

"Forty-three thousand nyang."

Damn it! I was short fifteen thousand nyang.

"You may or may not know this, but all goods sold in the Black Market have fixed prices. If you're worried about being ripped off, feel free to check with another branch."

That, I was already well aware of.

There were two main reasons why the Black Market had grown into the largest marketplace for trading martial world items.

First, the Black Market never betrayed its customers.

There were never any incidents of fake goods, leaks of a customer's secrets, or scams involving stolen money.

Top of Form

The second reason was the fixed pricing system.

In the Black Market, prices were standardized across all of its dozens of branches throughout the Central Plains.

If the price of an item changed, it changed for every branch.

Though Black Market prices were never cheap, people trusted that they would never be overcharged—and that trust is what kept customers coming back.

That was also the key to why the Black Market had endured for such a long time.

"It'll probably sell quickly even if I don't buy it, right?"

"Most likely," the old man replied.

Elixirs were the kind of thing that, if you missed your chance to buy them when they were available, you might not see them again for months—or even years.

Just as the old man said, having a Thousand-Year Parayang Grass show up now was an incredible stroke of luck.

But still, there was no helping it.

"I'm short on funds, so I'll have to wait for another opportunity," I said, rising from my seat.

Then the old man asked, "Why do you want the elixir?"

"To become stronger, of course."

"And once you're strong?"

There were several reasons. But I spoke of the first that came to mind.

"I've spent my whole life being unfilial. I finally came to my senses, so now, I'd like to try being a dutiful son."

The old man stared at me blankly for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Hahaha! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard from a customer here."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Because in all my years of selling elixirs to martial artists, not one of them has ever been a dutiful son."

I understood exactly what he meant. I had been no different. When one becomes obsessed with strength, everything else fades into the background.

I had once believed that if I became the strongest in the world, I could finally repay my mother properly. But she didn't live long enough to wait for that day.

This life will be different. This time, I intend to hold on to the things that truly matter.

"Seems I've missed my chance to become the first filial son in this place."

Then the old man said something unexpected.

"I'll give you ten days. If you can gather the money within that time, I'll sell it to you. Exactly ten days."

Whether he was reminded of his own parents, or simply took a liking to my polite demeanor, I couldn't say—but clearly, this was his way of showing kindness.

"Thank you for your consideration."

"I'm someone who believes that elixirs find their rightful owners," he replied.

"Now go prove that you are its rightful one."

I bowed to him and stepped outside.

Could I really gather another fifteen thousand nyang within ten days?

***

Despite my recent string of positive achievements, there was still one person in the clan whose opinion of me hadn't changed.

"I don't trust you."

It was the Head Steward—the same old man who had spat curses when I first regained consciousness.

"May I ask why?"

"Instinct. One day, you'll show your true colors and cause trouble."

Stubborn old man. Instead of always doubting me, couldn't he try trusting me just once?

The elders of the Murim Alliance's Council of Elders are all like that—as full of suspicion as they are of greed, and just as stubborn.

I leaned in and whispered near his ear.

"Head Steward… by any chance, do you have some money?"

At that, the Head Steward's eyes widened—as if to say, "See? I told you so!"

"As long as I'm alive, not a chance!"

And with large strides, he stormed off.

I couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Stubborn old man—but he was also someone essential to the Baek Clan's Sword Division. Especially as a physician, he had truly excellent skills.

But still… this was bad.

Three days had already passed out of the promised ten. Time kept slipping away, and I had no way to gather the money.

There was one option.

I could go to Yangso Workshop and squeeze Jeong Yeo dry.

If I hurriedly sold off a few things, I might just be able to come up with fifteen thousand nyang.

But if I did that, my relationship with Jeong Yeo would hit rock bottom.

He'd start to see me as nothing but a leech, just trying to suck money out of him—and he'd begin plotting his own agenda.

It wasn't a small amount of money, sure.

But losing trust over just fifteen thousand nyang… would be too great a loss.

I had bigger plans for Yangso Workshop.

As I wrestled with this inner dilemma, Gwangdu—like a ghost—seemed to sniff out the scent of my worries.

"You're troubled by something, aren't you?"

His intuition was nearly on par with Galsa-ryang. Of course, his assumption was completely wrong.

"You're missing Lady Song again, aren't you? No matter how much you say you don't like her, you still want to see her, right?"

"I just need some money."

Gwangdu had already taken a step back, putting some distance between us.

"What?! Just when we were finally starting to get along, you're asking to borrow money?"

"I haven't even said I was going to borrow it yet."

"Oh, come on. I can read you like a book. So how much is it? Alright, I can lend you up to fifteen nyang. But you have to pay me back."

"I need fifteen thousand nyang."

"Gasp!"

"And I need it within seven days."

Gwangdu blinked in utter disbelief, completely dumbfounded.

"That's the kind of money I'd have to be reborn fifteen times to earn! And that's only if I didn't have a rotten boss ripping me off for liquor money."

He sat down beside me with a sigh.

"You still have the compensation you got from Yangso Workshop, right?"

"That's not enough."

"…Are you trying to buy a manor or something?"

"I'm trying to buy something far more important than that."

In my past life, I had never once had to worry about money. That's why now, money-related issues might actually be my biggest weakness.

I found myself wishing that, instead of that stubborn old head steward, I had a sharp, capable young one to handle these things for me.

"Talking about money reminds me of the past. Back then too, you stirred up trouble trying to get some cash. That's how you ended up in debt to the Yangso Workshop."

"How the hell did I end up with twenty thousand nyang of debt?"

"Well, you caused so much trouble that the Head of House cut off your access to funds. So you went off on your own to catch a wanted criminal, hoping to claim the bounty. But instead, you got taken hostage by the bastard and ended up paying him a huge ransom."

Good grief. I really did every stupid thing imaginable.

"But with your martial arts being the mess that it is, how did you even think you could pull something like that off?"

"You got that idea from Sir Gong."

"Sir Gong?"

"Yeah. Gong Daehyeop—the branch leader of the Murim Alliance's Gokbu Division."

My heart stirred at the mention of the Murim Alliance. How long had it been since I last heard those words?

"So? What do you mean he put the idea in your head?"

"You started hanging around him and got swept up in that whole chivalrous hero nonsense."

"Is that so?"

I felt an odd sense of dissonance. Why would a branch leader of the Murim Alliance associate with a delinquent like me—and a green, inexperienced brat at that?

"What was our household's situation at the time?"

"It was right in the middle of a downturn. That incident ended up being the final blow that dragged us down."

"I see. And this Sir Gong is the local branch leader, huh? Then who was the guy with the bounty on his head?"

"A man named Gwak Dosu. He broke into the Ogajang residence in Shandong, stole their valuables, and massacred the entire family. They say he'd committed several other robberies and murders as well."

Never heard of him. Well, I suppose I wouldn't know every lowlife out there.

"How much was the bounty the Murim Alliance put on him?"

"It was five thousand nyang at the time."

Five thousand?

That meant he was classified as an extreme-level criminal.

"And yet someone like that just let me go after taking the money? Doesn't that strike you as odd?"

"Sir Gong negotiated a deal. Thanks to him, you got out of it alive."

"How did he negotiate that deal?"

"That… I'm not too sure about either."

"Gwak Dosu demanded twenty thousand nyang?"

"No, it was fifteen thousand. I heard the remaining five thousand was given to Sir Gong as a token of gratitude for his mediation."

"A bribe, in other words?"

"You can't really call it a bribe. The head of the household gave it willingly."

"Of course my father could give him something out of gratitude for saving his son. But someone in public office should've refused it."

And knowing my father's personality, I doubted he would've offered the money first. That Gong bastard probably hinted at it—subtly or not so subtly.

Once I heard everything, suspicion surged within me. That so-called Sir Gong might've been in cahoots with Gwak Dosu.

What if they'd used the authority and blind trust afforded to a branch leader of the Murim Alliance to stage the whole thing and split the profit? Exploiting a parent's desperation to save their child…

"Was Gwak Dosu ever caught?"

"I haven't heard anything about his arrest yet."

As I nodded, Gwangdu flinched dramatically and made a face.

"Wait—you're not seriously thinking of going after that guy, are you?"

"I have to catch him. I can't just let that piece of trash walk away after extorting fifteen thousand nyang."

"It's dangerous! That guy is known to be seriously vicious!"

"Then at least lend me all the money you've got."

"With you, Young Master, I'm sure you can catch him. You handled the Yangso Clinic situation like it was nothing, after all."

"Haha."

But then Gwangdu's face turned serious.

"Then let me come with you. I may not be able to lend you money, but I'll gladly be your right-hand man."

I knew Gwangdu was genuinely worried. And bringing him along might give him some valuable experience.

But this particular task needed to be handled quickly and cleanly.

I had a strong hunch that if I played this right, I might be able to solve my money problem while dealing with this mess.

"That right arm of yours is still just for show, so focus on your martial arts training. Just tell your parents something vague—say you've gone into closed-door training for a few days."

As I left the house, my gaze turned cold.

If those two bastards really worked together to rip off twenty thousand nyang?

You bastards better be ready for what's coming.

***

That afternoon, I arrived at the Gokbu branch of the Murim Alliance.

Typically, a small branch like this one would have around fifty members, and I assumed this place was no exception.

I had dressed myself in expensive clothes and wore a human-skin mask (inpi myeon'gu) over my face. I bought it from a Murim general goods store that sold all sorts of miscellaneous martial arts items.

Despite the name, inpi didn't mean it was made from actual human skin. While it was said that in the old days, they truly used human skin, nowadays the term just referred to how realistically the masks were crafted.

There were probably few people in this world who knew as much about inpi masks as I did.

Back when I was at war with Sama Oedo, I had to wear masks like these almost daily for my own protection as the Alliance Leader. There was a time when the enemy sent assassins after me multiple times a day.

Generally, inpi masks came in four grades: low, medium, high, and top-tier.

The low-grade masks were easy to detect as fake.

Medium-grade ones could be spotted only by someone with a very sharp eye.

High-grade masks were indistinguishable from a real face unless you were a mask expert.

And the top-tier—the ones I used—were so well-crafted that even experts couldn't tell it was a mask.

I spent a fair bit of money to buy a high-grade mask.

You might be shocked that a single mask costs a thousand nyang, but masks like these were always expensive.

In the world of Murim, the ability to change one's face held immense meaning.

If you saw it merely as a novelty or toy, it might be worth just a few nyang.

But if changing your face could save your life, then its value became immeasurable.

With the high-grade mask, matching clothes, and even a different voice, I had completely become someone else. The reason I went this far was to deceive that bastard.

Truth be told, I wanted to drag him out and beat him until he confessed. But there was a wiser and more certain way to handle this.

"Who are you here to see?"

I didn't bother hiding my martial presence from the guards at the gate. To them, I would appear to be a formidable expert.

"I'm here to see the branch leader."

The martial artist glanced at me cautiously. It was because I was acting far too confidently.

"Shall I tell him where you're from?"

"Tell him I've come from the Cheondo Gate."

At the mention of Cheondo Gate, the gatekeeper's eyes widened in shock.

Cheondo Gate was one of the Five Great Powers of the Central Plains (Jungwon Ose).

The Jungwon Ose referred to the five most powerful factions in the martial world of the current era.

If not for me, those five great clans might have run rampant in the struggle to dominate the Central Plains. That's how powerful they were—clans and sects possessing overwhelming force.

But I had suppressed them solely with my own martial strength.

They knew full well: the moment they stood out like a nail, I would crush them without hesitation.

That's why they never dared to act carelessly.

"And who from Cheondo Gate shall I say is here?"

"If I tell you, would you even recognize the name? Just go and inform the branch leader right away."

"P-please wait just a moment!"

One of the gatekeepers hurriedly rushed inside.

I was someone who knew the inner workings of the Five Great Powers of the Central Plains like the back of my hand. Among them, the one I knew best—and the easiest to impersonate—was Cheondo Gate.

The reason was simple: Ma Bong-gi, the master of Cheondo Gate, had a notoriously messy history with women. He had over ten lovers and dozens of children. It was even said that Ma Bong-gi himself couldn't keep track of who was who. And as they say, blood runs deep—his brothers were no different. Their entire family was an utter tangle of bloodlines.

But regardless of whether someone knew those details or not, the name Cheondo Gate held undeniable weight. Just look at how quickly the gatekeepers changed their attitude the moment I mentioned it.

A short while later, I was led to the branch leader's office.