Chapter 111

Chapter 111
Chapter 111

“Adu.”
“Yes?”
“This young monk is Adu of Shaolin—say it.”
“I’m not a young monk.”
“No, you definitely are.”
“What even is a young monk?”
“You really don’t know? Don’t your head abbot and fellow monks go around calling themselves young monks?”

On the journey back toward the primary estate following the conclusion of the Sword King Tournament, Adu stuck by their side relentlessly, never showing a hint of exhaustion. To be entirely accurate, everyone from Baek Yang-hui onward had naturally come to treat Adu as part of their entourage, so he had seamlessly blended into the traveling party.

“You’re a monk, yet you’re always whining, ‘I did this, what about me?’ It makes you sound far too childish. Just sprinkle in ‘this young monk’ every once in a while, and you’ll project a much more dignified aura.”

Seated comfortably inside the carriage, Baek Yang-hui’s primary concern was correcting Adu’s verbal habits. Realizing they would likely be traveling together for quite some time, he decided it was best to nip those immature tendencies in the bud.

*Acting childish is something I utterly despise. Except for our little Hwa-hwa and Yeon-yeon, of course.*

The mere thought of returning home to see the adorable little Gu Hwa-hwa and Baek Yeon-yeon, now blossoming gracefully, brought a natural, warm smile to his face. Right beside him, Gu-ak wore an identical expression, lost in fond thoughts of his own daughter and wife.

“We should be crossing into Jiangxi Province shortly.”
“Even if we’re delayed, we can easily cross the river by tomorrow.”

It had taken a little over a month for Baek Yang-hui’s group to make their way back to the clan. The physical distance from Gusu to Fonam County in Wuju was substantial, and the lingering injuries and physical exhaustion from the Sword King Tournament were considerable, leaving zero margin for reckless haste.

*Besides, we had a ridiculous number of detours along the way.*

Contrary to their initial schedule, they had managed to cause a massive upheaval at the Sword King Tournament. That turmoil was primarily triggered by the sudden, aggressive intervention of the Blood Cult, which unfortunately meant they had to handle an even more meticulous cleanup afterward—such as verifying exactly how much information the Haomen factions had managed to acquire.

“It’s a huge relief that the Haomen haven’t figured out a thing.”
“Indeed. Otherwise, we could have been framed for colluding with demonic cults, dragging both the main household and the entire Baek Clan down with us.”

To completely throw the Sword King Tournament into chaos, they had essentially sold Jang Bo-do out to the Haomen. The Taihua branch leader had initially dug into Baek Yang-hui’s background during those events, but he had promptly been killed off by the Blood Cult before he could leak the intelligence to any other regional branches. Consequently, not a single living soul left in the martial world knew that Baek Yang-hui was the mastermind behind the initial rumors surrounding the tournament.

*My gratitude. I’ve thoroughly avenged you, so rest in peace.*

Once they crossed the Yangtze River into Jiangxi Province via boat, their pace accelerated dramatically. Because the regional influence of both the Baek and Tang clans ran exceptionally deep here, they were smoothly provided with various logistical supports, such as swapping out exhausted horses through the Heaven-Covering Escort Agency. Thus, exactly five days after crossing into Jiangxi, the party finally arrived at the gates of the Baek Clan Manor.

“Young Master Hui!”

The head steward, accompanied by a flock of household servants belonging to the Finance Pavilion, came sprinting out barefoot to greet them.

“Young Master Hui!”
“Hahaha, Chief Steward!”

Han Seok-eon embraced Baek Yang-hui tightly, treating him like a long-lost grandson after a decade-long separation, hoisting the six-foot youth clear off the ground and spinning him around. It remained utterly baffling how the five-foot elder possessed the sheer physical strength to lift him.

“I caught wind of the rumors! You pulled off another colossal stunt—and a proper one at that!”
“Rumors? What kind of stories are circulating out there?”
“According to the intelligence gathered by Baek-ri Pavilion on top of the widespread gossip, you personally stormed into the Sword King Tournament!”

*Ah. With Brother Tang and Sister Tang healing so many wounded individuals that it practically overshadowed Baek Clan’s own medical reputation inside the grounds, rumors were bound to explode.*

The Tang siblings had treated a staggering volume of casualties within the tournament venue. Naturally, stopping those whispers from spreading was an absolute impossibility.

“I’ve already requested an emergency session of the elders’ council ahead of time! Let’s head straight inside—”
“Chief Steward, please, give me a moment to recover from the long journey…”
“Out of the question!”

*Heh heh heh. I genuinely just want to sleep.*

Unfortunately, protest was entirely futile. The clan elders were practically dying of curiosity to hear every single detail regarding the Sword King Tournament.

“Hui. It has been far too long.”

Inside the patriarch’s official audience chamber, which always played host to the elders’ council, Baek Mu-ryang stepped in, caught sight of Baek Yang-hui, and offered a gentle, welcoming smile.

“Father.”

Following three months of intensive seclusion, his father had departed almost immediately on an escort mission, returning only after another three months away, making it a full eight months since Baek Yang-hui had last laid eyes on him. It wasn’t six months, because prior to that departure, Baek Mu-ryang had already been locked away in deep seclusion.

*Father’s internal aura has shifted quite noticeably.*

Over the past couple of years, Baek Mu-ryang had steadily divested himself of minor administrative duties to concentrate entirely on sharpening his martial arts. To say the least, aside from mandatory sessions of the elders’ council, he spent virtually all of his time immersed in closed-door training. Considering how heavily involved he used to be in balancing daily clan operations with the education of his children, this total shift was quite unexpected.

Even so, Baek Yang-hui completely understood his father’s mindset.

*Within a martial clan, the absolute prowess of the patriarch is paramount. The psychological weight must be immense.*

Compared to when Yang-hui had first arrived in this world, the overall power of the Baek Clan had multiplied over a hundredfold. Father likely felt that remaining comfortably at the Peak Realm was no longer sufficient. To effectively command an ever-growing roster of powerful subordinates, raw personal strength was an absolute necessity.

*Secluded training of that caliber is excruciatingly difficult. Father truly exemplifies what a true patriarch should be.*

Cutting oneself off from every single earthly pleasure solely to dedicate body and mind to martial arts was little short of voluntary self-torture. Ordinary people grew utterly sick of eating the exact same meal after three days—let alone repeating solitary, grueling training regimens for years on end. Anyone lacking ironclad resolve would inevitably lose their mind.

“I am told you accomplished great things once again. Every single time you step outside our borders, you return having achieved something extraordinary. Truly impressive.”
“Not at all, Father. It is entirely thanks to your wise guidance.”

Baek Mu-ryang smiled softly.

“I am eager to hear the full account, so shall we officially open the council?”

While the clan’s overall might had expanded exponentially, the core lineup of attendees remained largely identical:

Yeo Un-hyeok, the Master of Baek-ri Pavilion, directing intelligence operations.
Gwak Mun, the Baek Clan’s most fiercely loyal pillar and Master of the Discipline Pavilion.
Gu-ak, Master of the Reformation Pavilion, commanding fully half of the elite Baek warriors.
Han Seok-eon, head of the Finance Pavilion and the de facto second-in-command, overseeing the entire apparatus of chief stewards.
Accompanied, of course, by Patriarch Baek Mu-ryang and his eldest son, Baek Yang-hui.

*Uncle Gwak Mun has truly come a world away from the old days—an absolute transformation.*

Having consumed two potent Spirit Pills, Gwak Mun’s dantian now contained well over fifty years of deep inner energy. Through relentless, blood-and-sweat-soaked training morning and night, coupled with Baek Yang-hui’s periodic strategic advice, he had firmly established himself at the pinnacle of the second-rate realm, standing right on the razor-thin threshold of the first-rate.

*This level of strength is more than enough for now. He is our Discipline Pavilion Master, not a frontline berserker.*

With those thoughts passing through his mind, Yang-hui glanced sideways toward the single non-Baek attendee present: Jin Geum-bo, whose face was an anxious mask of visible tension and apprehension.

*Don’t fret. I fully intend to honor my promise.*

The elders’ council commenced without delay.

“Young Master Hui, tell us at once! What on earth transpired at the Sword King Tournament?!”
“A few days prior to your arrival, official envoys from the Frost Moon Sect arrived at our gates. Please address that matter as well.”
“Word has also reached us that the father-son duo from the Taiyuan Jin Clan visited the main estate. Is it true they have formally agreed to become a vassal family under us?”

*Good grief, I really have stirred up a massive hornet’s nest on this escort run.*

With questions flying at him from every conceivable direction, his head began to spin.

“I will explain everything in strict chronological sequence. Shall we begin with the Frost Moon Sect?”

Han Seok-eon was visibly itching to dive straight into the financial profits reaped from the Sword King Tournament, but he forcefully restrained himself. Meanwhile, Baek Yang-hui began his narrative.

“It began merely as an initial clash, but we ultimately parted ways on exceptionally cordial terms with the Frost Moon Sect.”

He proceeded to detail how he had defeated a Peak Realm expert during a friendly sparring match, pointed out fundamental flaws within their proprietary Moon Ripple Fist Method, and offered constructive improvements. He then explained his underlying rationale for doing so.

“My reasoning was that establishing a firm alliance with the Frost Moon Sect would effectively patch a chronic vulnerability plaguing our main household.”

The persistent weakness and fatal Achilles’ heel of the Baek Clan. Every single person seated in the room was painfully aware of it.

“A severe scarcity of senior elders. A critical shortage of high-level experts.”
“Indeed, that flaw becomes glaringly more pronounced the faster the clan expands.”
“The foundational essence of our main household is that of a martial lineage. Ultimately, raw martial prowess is all that matters.”

Baek Mu-ryang’s expression darkened slightly. He privately blamed himself for allowing such a structural dilemma to persist. Noticing his father’s mood, Baek Yang-hui swiftly pressed on.

“Therefore, I firmly believe we ought to officially embrace the Frost Moon Sect as staunch allies of our main house.”
“Allies…”
“Won’t a move like that disrupt our delicate standing with the Tang Clan?”

A subtle smile tugged at the corner of Baek Yang-hui’s mouth. These were precisely the questions he had been waiting for.

“Precisely. But in the long run, our ultimate objective is to completely absorb the Frost Moon Sect.”
“Hmm…”

Stripped of pleasantries, that was the core strategy: initiate relations as friendly allies, casually demonstrate an insurmountable gulf in martial prowess, and cultivate an environment where they naturally yearn for permanent unification.

“Is such a feat even feasible?”
“Even if their history falls somewhat short of ours, the Frost Moon Sect proudly boasts over a century of heritage as an established martial sect. Their pride won’t be easily broken.”
“Leave that entirely to me. I am supremely confident.”

He recalled the scenes inside the Frost Moon Sect and the complex expressions etched onto the faces of their elders. He was absolute in his certainty that he could swallow them whole in due time.

“Well, Young Master Hui has never once started a project without a foolproof plan.”
“And not a single guarantee he has ever made has failed to materialize.”
“By the way—Soaring Sword Dragon! What an extraordinarily magnificent moniker!”

It had been nearly three months since the fervent martial enthusiasts within the Frost Moon Sect had begun chanting that title. Whispers regarding the Baek Clan’s newly minted Soaring Sword Dragon were finally rippling across Jiangxi.

“A sword dragon soaring proudly into the firmament!”
“Earning the prestigious title of ‘dragon,’ traditionally reserved exclusively for the absolute finest talents of the younger generation—it is truly a cause for celebration.”
“This achievement extends far beyond Young Master Hui’s personal glory; it will undoubtedly elevate the overall prestige of our main house. It reminds me of when you earned the title of White Pool Hidden Dragon.”
“Magnificent work, Young Master Hui!”
“Thank you, everyone.”

He flashed a bright, cheerful grin before steering the conversation forward.

“Next, regarding the situation with the Taiyuan Jin Clan. They provided invaluable assistance before we even stepped foot inside the Sword King Tournament.”

Glancing briefly toward Jin Geum-bo, he continued.

“Without Merchant Jin’s crucial support, we would have been locked out entirely. Given that he willingly risked the absolute survival of his entire clan to back our main household, combined with the fact that his formidable business acumen will immensely benefit our finances, these two compelling reasons drove me to promise him official vassal status under the Baek Clan.”

A heavy silence descended upon the chamber as the elders weighed the proposal. Baek Yang-hui covertly checked Han Seok-eon’s facial expression. There was no need for concern; the clan’s financial inflows were expanding at a blistering daily rate, completely overwhelming the administrative capacity of the chief stewards’ office. Chief Han Seok-eon hadn’t enjoyed more than two hours of sleep a night in nearly a year.

“According to the Master of Baek-ri Pavilion, Merchant Jin’s commercial capabilities are genuinely exceptional. Therefore, I formally request that the patriarch assign him directly to the chief stewards’ office.”

Baek Mu-ryang, absorbing Han Seok-eon’s silent nod of approval, turned a piercing, solemn gaze toward Jin Geum-bo.

“Merchant Jin, I have a single question for you.”
“Please speak, Patriarch.”
“What is your true motivation for desiring integration into our household?”

After a moment of deep, careful contemplation, Jin Geum-bo cast a respectful look toward Baek Yang-hui and answered steadily.

“The long-cherished, lifelong aspiration of the Jin Clan was to drag the hidden truth of the Sword King Tournament out into the light—to expose the very entity that stripped us of everything we held dear. Young Master Hui gave me his solemn word, and he fulfilled that promise with breathtaking brilliance. Because of that…”

Swallowing hard to steady his nerves, Jin Geum-bo pressed forward.

“This Jin hereby vows to repay the Baek Clan with absolute, horse-bone loyalty and the utmost exertion of my life’s effort.”

Baek Mu-ryang stared fixedly at him for a long, tense moment before a faint smile graced his lips.

“I place my trust in you. And I welcome you warmly. From this exact moment onward, Merchant Jin—no, Vassal Jin Geum-bo—is officially assigned to the chief stewards’ office.”
“My deepest thanks! Thank you so much!”

Jin Geum-bo bowed repeatedly, his voice trembling with overwhelming gratitude. Once order was restored in the room, the council resumed its business.

“At long last, we can finally hear the details of the Sword King Tournament.”
“Hui, spill the details already.”
“What on earth happened in there, Young Master Hui?!”
“……Heh heh heh heh.”

Issuing a greedy, worm-like chuckle laden with suppressed anticipation, Yang-hui rummaged through his belongings and hauled an object forward.

“First, allow me to present something for your viewing pleasure.”

A heavy, reinforced chest landed on the table with a dull, resounding thud. The moment the lid was unlatched, a deep, muted golden luster spilled outward across the room—a fortune in raw gold they had painstakingly collected and piled up beforehand.

“Ten thousand taels of pure gold!”
“Gasp……!”
“T-Ten thousand taels?!”

Han Seok-eon beamed with ecstatic, blinding joy. Then, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed flat onto the floor.

“Chief Steward Han!”
“Oh heavens! Quick, channel internal qi into him!”
“E-Even if I drop dead right here… I have zero regrets……”

Even while completely unconscious, Han Seok-eon’s thumb and index finger instinctively twitched together, forming the flawless shape of a gold ingot.