Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven

An extraordinary offer of four thousand silver nyang hung heavily in the air.

Chu Yongwol stared back, her expression clouded by sheer incredulity.

“Four thousand silver nyang…”

She raised the porcelain cup to her lips and took a deliberate, measured drink.

“The brew you serve here possesses a truly remarkable flavor, Young Master.”

Watching her display, Yanghwi let out a silent, knowing chuckle.

He saw right through her unexpected praise of the brew. In truth, offering such bitter, substandard tea to an honored guest was a telltale sign that the Baek Estate was practically scraping the bottom of its coffers.

It was an undeniable truth: from an outsider’s perspective, the estate seemed wholly destitute.

Spanning an immense footprint inherited across generations from the founding forebears, the property was grand in size, but chronic shortages of coin meant that most courtyards and pavilions had fallen into disrepair. Outside the central domestic quarters, nature and neglect had taken over to such a degree that several outbuildings looked like crumbling relics.

Be that as it may.

“Consider this the initial deposit.”

Bending down, Yanghwi slid a stout iron-bound coffer out from beneath his bedframe and placed it firmly on the table.

“Gold valued at two thousand in silver.”

“…”

Stunned into complete silence, Chu Yongwol stared wide-eyed as a mere boy presented an eye-watering fortune as though it were pocket change. Yanghwi gave her no time to brood.

“Now that we have reached this stage, it is only proper that we invite the master of our household to guide the remaining discussions.”

He directed a household attendant to request the clan leader’s presence. Moments later, Baek Muryang stepped into the chamber, accompanied by another familiar figure.

“Hwi, do you mind if your mother sits in on this meeting as well?”

“Not at all. In truth, I was hoping for your counsel, Mother.”

Jeong Inhwa was the cherished daughter of an esteemed scholar who had chosen a quiet life of rural seclusion. When it came to literary matters, her judgment and discernment surpassed anyone else within the estate.

“Father, I intend to take four thousand nyang of our clan’s extra reserves and back Young Mistress Chu’s Baekseo antiquarian bookshop. What is your judgment on this venture?”

“A whole four thousand nyang, you say?”

“Indeed.”

“I have spent the past several days pondering the most prudent use for that coin…”

Those funds had been liberated directly from the illicit vaults of the Cheongsa Gang. With the gang’s informants constantly watching every corner of Ak’an County, spending that silver locally would be like waving a torch in the dark. Funneling the capital into an enterprise far beyond the county borders was by far the safest path—especially one possessing tremendous growth potential.

To that end, the Baekseo antiquarian bookshop located in distant Nanchang served as an ideal recipient.

“Well, my love, what is your view on this?”

“I have thoroughly reviewed the drafts Hwi composed. I am convinced it is a venture well worth our gold.”

“Truly? Even so, in affairs of trade and enterprise, the word of an experienced merchant holds far greater merit. Young Mistress Chu, pray share your honest assessment.”

“This humble merchant is equally convinced that Young Lord Hwi’s brilliant prose will elevate our humble shop to unprecedented heights.”

“Is that so? In that case, we shall proceed with the investment.”

“Forgive me?”

A look of total confusion swept over Chu Yongwol’s features.

“I am overwhelmingly honored by your faith, yet…”

“Does something trouble you, Young Mistress?”

“Even under the terms of a commercial partnership, surrendering such an immense fortune into the hands of someone you have only just met seems dangerously rash…”

After an uneasy pause, Chu Yongwol ventured further.

“I mean no disrespect to the young master, but this entire proposal originated from a child, did it not?”

Committing four thousand silver nyang purely on the whim of an eight-year-old was indeed something no sane patriarch would do. Yet Baek Muryang and Jeong Inhwa replied in complete harmony.

“Because Hwi was the one who conceived it.”

“If our son stands behind the decision, he possesses our unconditional confidence.”

The pair shared a single heart. Exchanging affectionate glances, the husband and wife smiled with profound warmth. Taking in the sight, Yanghwi felt a deep, quiet pride settle within his chest.

*Demonstrating my worth over the past month has truly borne fruit.*

Yanghwi had rapidly carved out an unshakeable position within the Baek family hierarchy. Small wonder, given his track record. On his very first day under their roof, he had repelled a pack of Honggyo Gang ruffians using nothing but silver-tongued audacity and sheer nerve. If that seemed miraculous for a young boy, on the following day he had successfully plundered the hidden cache of the Cheongsa Gang, securing five thousand nyang in silver. To cap it all off, he had demonstrated an innate genius by unraveling the complex mysteries of the clan’s ancestral techniques—the Heaven-Covering Sword and the Pear Blossom Six Harmonies Art—on the very day he laid eyes upon them.

Consequently, an unspoken understanding had swept across the entire Baek household: whatever the young heir, Baek Yanghwi, set out to do, one could simply let him have his way.

“Hwi. Your father trusts your mind. If you are resolute, you have my blessing to commit the entire sum. But… I was informed you settled on taking forty percent of the profits?”

“That was the agreed amount.”

Baek Muryang’s gaze shifted toward Chu Yongwol. The warm, indulgent father vanished, replaced in an instant by the stern authority of a martial clan lord.

“Young Mistress Chu. My wife is the daughter of a distinguished scholar. As such, I am well acquainted with the conventional royalty an author commands upon the release of their manuscript.”

Sensing a chance to sweeten the family’s favor, Chu Yongwol lowered her head with a gracious smile.

“A standard rate rarely exceeds ten percent. Our offer of forty percent was extended out of the Baekseo antiquarian bookshop’s profound reverence for Young Lord Hwi’s singular talent. If it pleases you, I shall formalize the paperwork at forty percent.”

Baek Muryang intervened without hesitation.

“No, that does not quite align with commercial realities. From my understanding, even a simple transcription carrying minor annotations yields ten percent, yet you present forty as though it were an act of sheer benevolence. How peculiar.”

Chu Yongwol realized all at once that the clan lord had not brought up the figures out of appreciation. Realizing her mistake, panic began to rise.

“Ten percent belongs to the creator. Thirty percent covers the base materials and labor to print the volumes. The remaining sixty percent flows to the merchant who shoulders the financial burden of printing and distributes the works. That is the standard distribution in the trade. Have I misspoken in any way, Hwamae?”

Jeong Inhwa offered a tranquil smile.

“My lord speaks absolute truth.”

“Given that your side claims sixty percent, it appears you are showering his prose with flowery praise while quietly pocketing the lion’s share of the proceeds.”

As a rule, classical scholars held commercial intricacies in disdain and refused to soil their minds with mercantile numbers. Chu Yongwol had never envisioned that a secluded scholar’s daughter would know the precise breakdown of publishing margins, leaving her utterly cornered.

*Furthermore, that is hardly the complete picture!*

“Clan Lord. The figures you cite do not represent clean surplus, but the essential expenses required to—”

Baek Muryang cut in once more.

“Expenses. Indeed, the expenses. We are preparing to furnish an entire fortune of four thousand nyang precisely to absorb those printing costs ourselves. Yet despite our bearing the financial brunt, we are offered forty percent. A curious calculation, forty percent…”

At long last, the true purpose behind Baek Muryang’s intervention struck Chu Yongwol like a physical blow.

“…I must extend my humblest apologies to the head of the Baek clan. You graciously offered to fund the entire venture, yet my merchant instincts clouded my sincerity, leading me to negotiate in bad faith.”

When an outside backer shouldered the financial hazard of production through direct capital, the distribution of profit naturally had to tilt in their favor. Chu Yongwol had attempted to mask standard terms under the guise of lavish generosity to lock in an easy margin, but Baek Muryang had dismantled her scheme effortlessly.

“I hold no grievance. After all, the very essence of commerce is the pursuit of gain.”

Baek Muryang gave her a benign smile, prompting Chu Yongwol to offer a deep, respectful bow.

“I am immensely grateful for your leniency.”

“Then, perhaps Young Mistress Chu would care to submit an amended proportion?”

“…”

Swallowing a lump of nervous tension, Chu Yongwol managed a cautious voice.

“Fifty percent… no, let us establish it at sixty percent.”

“Let us make it seventy.”

“…”

“I suspect that even at eighty percent, the merchant associations within my circle would leap at the chance to accept such terms.”

Baek Muryang dropped a subtle hint regarding his connections across trade networks. Chu Yongwol found herself backed entirely into a corner. Four thousand silver nyang was an overwhelming reservoir of capital that would dwarf their anticipated manufacturing requirements. Backed by such funds, the Baekseo antiquarian bookshop could expand rapidly into an ambitious enterprise without exposing their own vaults to even an ounce of risk.

“Your magnanimity humbles me. We shall establish the share at seventy percent.”

“Excellent, Young Mistress Chu. Let the contracts be penned.”

Observing his adoptive father from the side, Yanghwi felt genuine admiration stir within him.

*Father is truly the master of this house for a reason.*

Yanghwi had foreseen the need to adjust the profit splits once the capital was injected. However, he doubted he could have maneuvered the terms up to seventy percent while maintaining an aura of generous condescension, entirely unlike his own direct demeanor.

*Had I involved Father from the outset, we might have secured an even steeper share.*

With the paperwork signed and sealed, Chu Yongwol took her leave of the estate.

Baek Muryang promptly motioned for Yanghwi to accompany him.

“Yanghwi. Would you join your father for some tea?”

“It would be my pleasure, Father.”

Baek Muryang summoned an attendant to prepare fresh tea. Soon after, father and son sat peacefully across from one another, quietly partaking in the fragrant steam.

“Tea teaches us the virtue of patience. If one drinks with excessive haste, the heat will scald the roof of the mouth.”

“I shall keep your lesson close to heart, Father, and always tread with care.”

Grasping the quiet warning nested inside the metaphor, Yanghwi lowered his head deferentially. Watching his son’s measured reaction, Baek Muryang sighed softly.

“…Hwi.”

“Yes, Father.”

“When I took you into our household, I believed the heavens had bound our fates together. Yet in this brief span, you have accomplished multiple feats that lay far beyond my own reach. Were you aware? Tying our family to a prominent merchant collective has been a lifelong aspiration of mine.”

Yanghwi understood all too well. His father had yearned for decades to secure a steady river of income to sustain the estate. The seamless composure he displayed before Chu Yongwol was likely the result of rehearsing that very scenario thousands of times over the years.

“I will ensure that this pact with the Baekseo antiquarian bookshop lays the bedrock for our clan’s everlasting prosperity.”

“I have no doubt you will. We have shared this roof for barely a month, yet my trust in your capabilities runs deeper than words can express. And yet…”

Baek Muryang took a quiet sip, ordering his thoughts before continuing.

“Hwi. You are a genius without equal, a prodigy the likes of which this world rarely sees. Though I have lived more years, I am fundamentally a man of modest gifts; the world looks entirely different through my eyes than it does through yours. Nevertheless, an elder still has duties to fulfill. And in you, my son, I perceive a troubling haste.”

“…”

Yanghwi remained motionless. The observation struck straight into his hidden vulnerabilities.

*Was my anxiety truly so plain to see?*

He had indeed been driving forward relentlessly. His actions were so hurried that anyone observing him would assume he was an unnatural anomaly blessed with terrifying martial comprehension, literary prowess, and business insight all at once. Yet this relentless momentum was driven entirely by the crushing weight of his ambition.

*To build the greatest clan under heaven… Even with the miracle of turning back time thirty years, accomplishing such a monument takes the span of an entire lifetime.*

The danger grew even more acute when factoring in the noble Namgung clan, whose shadow would inevitably fall across their path the moment the Baek house began to rise. To forge impenetrable foundations and clear away every lethal obstacle before his second life ran out, he had to race against time.

“The ancients spoke of the peril of riding a tiger. Hwi, it appears as though you view your adoption into my lineage as mounting the back of a beast you dare not step down from.”

“That is not the case, Father. Not once have I ever considered the Baek family as a stepping stone for my own ends.”

“I believe you. Yet I cannot help but wonder. Possessing such terrifying brilliance, you could have made a name for yourself anywhere under the heavens. Why did you choose to wander as a starving beggar?”

Baek Muryang spoke the truth. Leaving aside the wondrous regression of time, Yanghwi had recognized his own exceptional gifts around this very age in his past life. His reason for remaining in squalor had been painfully plain.

“Because I possessed no reason to continue living.”

In his former existence, to a ragged child who breathed merely because death had not yet taken him, this man and the Baek house had granted him purpose. They had given him the will to survive.

“Is it not universally taught that among all obligations under heaven, the preservation of one’s life is the greatest debt? Father, you bestowed upon me the grace of life itself.”

“And so your every move is meant to repay that ledger?”

“It is.”

“Then in your mind, the sacred bond between father and son is nothing more than a commercial debt—a transaction where kindness received must be matched with equal compensation.”

“I…”

For the first time since his regression, words abandoned Yanghwi entirely.

“Yanghwi of the Baek clan. This marks the first correction a flawed father offers to his brilliant son. Carve the ancient path into your soul: cultivate the self, and bring order to the home (修身齊家).”

“…”

Surrounded by absolute silence, Yanghwi turned the conversation over in his mind. The structure of his father’s lesson became clear: beginning with an acknowledgment of his talent, pointing out his reckless haste, and anchoring it all with the classic doctrine from the Great Learning—cultivating personal character, harmonizing the clan, governing the realm, and ushering in peace under heaven. The realization settled deeply within his spirit.

*Indeed. The true meaning behind making us the greatest clan under heaven…*

It was his father’s cherished ambition, the path to shielding and blessing the people he held dear. Above all, it was because he truly viewed the Baek house as his home, Baek Muryang as his father, Jeong Inhwa as his mother, and Baek Heonso and Baek Yeonyeon as his cherished brother and sister. If his family failed to see him as their own kin, if he discarded the core bonds tying them together, even reaching the pinnacle of heaven would be an empty triumph.

*Father is… truly a father. Even after walking this earth longer than him in my former days, he still possesses wisdom to guide my steps.*

Gulping water with wild thirst could choke a man just as easily as poison. Although the consciousness residing within this small frame belonged to a martial sovereign in his late thirties, the flesh was that of an eight-year-old child, blessed with a fresh dawn to wash away every lingering sorrow. One must move swiftly, yet never succumb to blinding haste. Just as the family’s ancestral code dictated: *gae* (蓋)—swift as lightning, yet unyielding as stone.

“I shall engrave your teachings into my marrow, Father. Thank you for opening my eyes.”

“Good. Hold fast to that.”

A sense of warm pride washed over Baek Muryang. While it appeared his son had extracted a slightly different philosophical meaning than the simple paternal comfort he had meant to provide, the distinction hardly mattered. The essential truth was that they looked upon one another as true flesh and blood.

And then.

A figure whose idea of family differed wildly from that of Yanghwi and Baek Muryang arrived at the gates of the Baek Estate the very next morning.

“Little Brother, didn’t we leave a certain matter unfinished? When a month passed without a whisper, I figured I would come collect you myself.”