Chapter 178

Chapter 178
**Chapter 178: Screams of Bankruptcy**

A sharp, desperate cry tore through the usually tranquil Baek Clan Manor.

“Ugh—waaaah! We’re short on funds! We don’t have enough money!”

It was a wail so raw and frantic it seemed to rattle the very walls of the Chief Steward’s quarters. Servants passing nearby jumped in surprise, then quickly smoothed their expressions.

“Dear me, sounds like Chief Steward Han is at it again.”

“The Baek Clan’s standing and holdings have grown many times over lately. If spending keeps up at this pace, of course we’ll run short.”

“True enough. You’re right.”

It was a shout they’d heard every single day not so long ago. Hearing it now, after all this time, felt strangely nostalgic, bringing back a flood of old memories…

“Wait a moment.”

“What is it?”

“Has the Chief Steward found some way to turn back the years? His voice sounds like a young boy who hasn’t even come of age yet.”

“Now that you mention it… you’re right, doesn’t it?”

The two servants stared at one another, eyes wide as saucers, then quietly leaned in to peer through the doorway into the Chief Steward’s office.

Seated there was a youthful scholar, streaks of ink smudged across his cheeks, clutching his head in both hands.

“At this rate, the Baek Clan will be ruined! Everyone—redraft every financial projection we have! All revisions must be ready within three days!”

Bankruptcy. If things kept going this way, that was exactly where they would end up. Income had its limits, but expenses were skyrocketing out of all proportion. The root cause was simple: in just one year, the Baek Clan’s sphere of influence had expanded again and again.

Unlike unorthodox sects, which could seize what they wanted through force, orthodox families needed vast resources when they took control of new lands. They could not simply dominate local people and demand tribute; they had to integrate into communities, earn trust, and win hearts. Put plainly, they had to invest in those regions and establish themselves as respected, upstanding leaders.

“Just the new enterprises we’re launching across the Gilju region number in the dozens… and the costs involved… ugh!”

The young scholar rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t even thirty yet, but he already felt as though the weight of it all would snap his spine. He’d always believed that a true man should aim high and seize every opportunity that came his way. With that conviction, he’d gained the favor of the Baek Clan’s brilliant young master and earned himself a post as strategist—one whose counsel carried weight even with the clan head himself.

But… he had succeeded, there was no denying that.

“I’ve been had. I never imagined the workload would pile up like this!”

He had rank and standing, but no chance to enjoy them. Why? Because he was too busy. That was the only reason he needed.

“Wait—why am I the one drawing up budgets anyway?”

It all came back to him then. How a strategist like himself had ended up handling the Chief Steward’s daily duties in the first place. It had begun with a conversation about the clan’s future with Chief Steward Han Seok-eon…

Ah. Now he understood.

“Chiiiief Stewawaaard! Where are yoooou?”

From the rear courtyard, where he’d been gazing out at the scenery, Chief Steward Han pushed open a door with a soft creak and poked his head inside. There wasn’t a flicker of worry on his face—only a broad, contented smile.

“Young Scholar So, what’s all this calling me over in such a hurry? Goodness, you look positively worn thin.”

“Chief Steward… is this really the moment to be taking things so calmly?”

“Why, of course it is. Though I’ll grant you, we could run into trouble if we aren’t careful.”

“And yet you seem entirely at ease.”

Han chuckled warmly. “Come to think of it, I ought to pass along a little wisdom from someone with more years under his belt. Relax. Take it easy.”

“Easy? How can I take it easy?”

With so much work piling up and leadership seemingly unconcerned, the clan could face ruin—and he was being told to relax?

“Young Scholar So, unclench your jaw. Let your shoulders drop. There we go. No need to rewrite every plan just to pinch every last copper.”

The scholar could not accept this. A sudden thought struck him—could this be old, bad habits resurfacing? They were known far and wide as the Heaven-Covering Baek Clan now, but barely ten years prior, they had been nothing more than a minor, third-rate martial family. To see the Chief Steward so unfazed by real danger, speaking as though nothing were amiss, struck him as complacency left over from harder times. His tone grew sharp.

“Unless you have a sound reason for this, Chief Steward, I will begin to lose the respect I hold for you.”

“A reason? I do. The merchant delegation will be arriving with funds very shortly.”

“Pardon?” The scholar stared, bewildered. “You mean we should set aside all urgency simply because of that?”

“Simply that? This crisis is only an illusion. There is no need to go looking for problems where none exist.”

When the young scholar still struggled to grasp his meaning, the Chief Steward went on. “If you’re still doubtful, how about a little wager?”

“A wager? Fine! I accept, whatever the terms!”

The scholar’s tone carried a hint of youthful arrogance. Han smiled gently. “All these plans you’re drafting amount to cutting costs to the bone. Trust me—leave things as they are. Loyalty grows when people feel secure and well provided for.”

“And what if something goes wrong?”

The question was pointed, but Han’s good humor never faltered.

“Problems can always arise. So—keep your original deadline and finish your revised budget in three days’ time, just as you intended.”

With that, he turned back to admiring the view. Watching him, the scholar felt his frustration rise. Here was a leader setting no example at all.

“Very well—everyone, let’s press on! We have three days! We must secure the funds we need within that time!”

They threw themselves into the task, tracking down every available resource, until finally they had a workable plan to keep the clan afloat. When it was done, the scholar felt hot tears prick his eyes—relief and pride all tangled together.

“We’ve done it! Everyone, we’ve succeeded!”

Just then, the door flew open.

“Urgent news! The merchant party from Sacheon is here—they’re loaded with silver! It’s an advance payment on their trade agreement!”

All that panic, all those sleepless nights drafting emergency budgets… and now the money had simply appeared?

“How much… is the payment?”

“More than enough to sustain us well into the future!”

“Then… what was the point of all we’ve done these past three days?”

The greater the relief, the deeper the hollow feeling in his chest. His mind went completely blank.

Chief Steward Han stepped through the doorway, smiling. “See? I told you they would come, didn’t I?”

“How could you be so certain…?”

Han was the man who once would have fretted and fussed over even the smallest shortfall, running straight to the clan head with every concern. Yet he had wandered about these past few days as though he hadn’t a care in the world—all because he had known this was coming.

“I had a feeling in my bones. Something told me the young master would see to it that funds arrived.”

“Three days of work… all for nothing…!” The scholar drew himself up, setting his jaw. “Our efforts were not wasted! Prudent management is always a virtue! You have all done excellent work!”

“No—return to the original spending plan, Young Scholar So.”

“Pardon? Why ever would we do that?”

“As I said before: people give their best when they feel their needs are met.” He gestured to make his meaning clear. “If you cannot afford a generous feast for those who serve you, you cannot promise them a gathering to look forward to after long days of training. In all things, goodwill and comfort are needed—budgets must have room to breathe. Naturally, too much freedom breeds corruption, and that we must guard against.”

Han’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Another wager? I fancy I shall win this one too.”

The scholar sighed, shaking his head. “We shall revert to the original budget.”

Han regarded him with genuine warmth. There was still so much to teach him, but it was a pleasure having him here—sharp, talented, and eager to do well.

“Keep up the fine work, Young Scholar So!” He laughed heartily as he departed.

The scholar watched him go, then muttered under his breath, turning to the man beside him. “Is this really how things ought to be, Deputy Chief Steward?”

Jin Geum-bo, formerly of the fallen Tae-won Jin Clan—whose life’s great purpose was uncovering the lost tomb of the Sword King—answered quietly. “What do you mean?”

“I understand that the young master arranged for funds to reach us just in time. But what if luck had not been on our side? We could truly have faced ruin!”

Jin nodded slowly. “Young Scholar So… I believe it is time I told you something.”

“Told me what?”

“While you and your team were buried in ledgers and projections, the Chief Steward was visiting allies and meeting with leaders alongside the clan head, securing every coin we needed.”

The scholar stared at him. “But he acted as though he hadn’t a care in the world!”

“And he succeeded. Even without the young master’s contribution, we would have been safe. He was not simply sitting back and hoping for the best.”

It seemed the Deputy was the only other person who knew the truth. Han had not breathed a word of it to anyone—least of all to the young scholar. Up until now, So had seen the Chief Steward as someone who had simply ridden the clan’s rising fortunes to comfort and rank, someone who managed money well but had no particular brilliance. These past days had only disappointed him further.

“He kept it from us on purpose,” So murmured. “All that worry, all that labor… and it was never necessary. If you hadn’t told me, I might never have known.”

People’s actions are rarely driven by only one motive. There were two reasons Chief Steward Han had chosen this course—one generous, one not. Which had truly guided him, only he could say. But somehow, So felt sure it had been the kinder one.

“Deputy Chief Steward.”

“Speak.”

“So he left all the hard work to me… deliberately.”

Jin said nothing.

“Very well. Then I shall strive all the harder.”

And so the young strategist, destined one day to help shape the fate of the realm, learned yet another valuable lesson.

***

Sacheon had always stood far removed from the central heartlands, separated by treacherous mountain passes and the gorges of the Yangtze. Yet it was also a place where wealth flowed freely. The reason was straightforward: it sat at the crossroads of trade routes, and yielded rare goods—finest teas, premium silk. Among its most powerful figures was Jin Yeong-gil, known across the world as one of the Three Great Tycoons, his fortune built entirely on trading Shu brocade.

“He has been bedridden for nearly fifteen years,” one remarked. “He is likely still confined to his bed even now.”

Jin Yeong-gil’s illness had only truly been understood after his death. The absurdity of it was such that even Yang-hui, who moved far from merchant circles, had scoffed when he heard the tale.

“You really think you can cure him?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Even if you can—will a man of his stature even consent to meet us? He might grant an audience to the heir of a great clan like the Tang, but us?”

A man counted among the world’s wealthiest had his dignity to uphold. No matter how unwell he might be, a stranger from the Baek Clan with no standing in Sacheon could not simply walk in and demand an audience. But…

“Do not worry. He will see us. I promise you.”

“You have a plan?”

“I do. Trust me.”

They arrived at the finest residence in Sacheon’s main city. Yang-hui stepped forward, knocked boldly at the gate, and announced himself clearly to the guards.

“The foremost physician under heaven has come to heal your master. Open this gate at once!”

Baek Heon-so and Chui-dal, standing on either side of him, were utterly stunned. They could scarcely believe their ears.

*Is he mad?! That is no physician—he is lying!*

*Impersonation! That is going much too far!*