Chapter 183

Chapter 183
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**Chapter 183: Third-Rate Martial Family Becomes World’s Best**

“Hire the Tang Clan.”

Both men’s expressions hardened instantly—this was no casual suggestion, but a statement of absolute certainty.

“It seems our paths run perfectly parallel, doesn’t it?”

“And for not one, but two reasons at that.”

Everything under heaven carries its price, and Jin Yeong-gil was someone who always recognized true worth.

“Silk that sells for merely twenty taels of silver in Sichuan commands fifty once it crosses mountains and rivers to reach far-off Hubei. Need, in the end, is what defines value.”

In other words: only those who could see what others truly required would ever become irreplaceable themselves.

*This young man has need of me*, Yang-hui reflected.

Jin Yeong-gil had spent more than a year trapped on the very edge of life and death, struck down by the Ten Thousand Gold Syndrome. Above all else, he hungered to strike back at the shadowy faction that had laid this cruel trap. Nor was he content to remain simply one of the Three Great Tycoons of the World—he reached for far greater heights still.

Put plainly, he needed a powerful ally.

*And this young hero has need of me too*, Jin Yeong-gil thought in turn. Here stood a warrior of bright promise, one whose ambitions matched his gifts, who knew exactly where he was going and whose aid he must seek. Their bond was forged in mutual want—and that want extended straight to Jin Yeong-gil himself. Stranger still, the young man seemed intensely curious about the hidden powers behind the Ten Thousand Gold Syndrome.

*All told, two clear reasons make certain this young hero seeks my help.*

“This seasoned head of mine knows well: joining forces with you would achieve two goals with a single stroke.”

Yang-hui and Jin Yeong-gil needed one another desperately, and so each grew in the other’s eyes to something beyond measure. They shared a quiet, unshakable certainty: neither could walk this road alone.

There was an old saying: *sharing the same bed but dreaming different dreams*. Theirs, however, was a truth that could only be called *sharing the same bed and dreaming the very same dream*.

“We must unmask the shadowy forces behind this whole affair.”

“And in so doing, secure our own safety as well.”

“Yet we have not a single lead. We must start close at hand, testing those most likely to be involved.”

“Yunnan matters far more than Sichuan. Sichuan, in truth, makes little sense as the starting point at all.”

“We shall set bait, yes—but never again will we repeat the folly of ‘pointing at a deer and calling it a horse’.”

“We must keep our discovery of what truly caused the Ten Thousand Gold Syndrome hidden. Let us reveal our hand only when the moment is right, and slowly at that.”

True conversation builds as each speaker’s words shape the next, weaving meaning from exchange. By that standard, what passed between them was scarcely speech at all—yet both nodded, perfectly satisfied.

“What will your aid cost?”

“You seek to purchase my goodwill with coin? Then pay the price I have set.”

“Haha—you are an entertaining young hero, I will grant you that.”

Jin Yeong-gil paused only briefly before tipping a leather pouch upside down across the desk. *Ching ching ching!* Wooden tallies spilled across the polished surface, piling high—well over two hundred by rough count. At fifty taels each, that came to ten thousand taels of silver, or one hundred nyang in gold: enough to buy a thriving inn or tavern outright and establish a prosperous business.

*All from one conversation*, Yang-hui mused. *A remarkably fair bargain.*

“Does this suffice to secure your goodwill, young hero?”

“It does entirely. Keep the change.”

To offer full hundred nyang in gold and then speak of small change? Jin Yeong-gil laughed aloud as he swept the tallies back into his pouch.

“I have struck a fine bargain indeed. My deepest thanks.”

“In truth, I had considered demanding ten thousand nyang in gold rather than silver.” Yang-hui smiled as he accepted the pouch. “After all, who could put a price on curing the incurable Ten Thousand Gold Syndrome? The very life of one of the Three Great Tycoons of the World is worth no less.” He straightened. “But I came to realize you yourself are worth more than any sum.”

“I shall take up residence with the Tang Clan. Send word when you are prepared to begin.”

“It shall be done, young hero.”

He stepped out of Jin Yeong-gil’s household alongside Dang-gun, rejoining Chui-dal and Baek Heon-so who waited in the guest quarters. Together they set out toward the Tang Clan manor.

“How did it go, brother?”

“Knowing you, you must have wrung a fortune from that plague-stricken old merchant! Come—how much?”

“One hundred nyang in gold.”

“What? That is all?”

“It is—and not a single tael belongs to me.” He held out the pouch to Dang-gun. “Here—payment for borrowing the Tang Clan’s name, Brother Dang.”

Dang-gun made no move to take it. “You spoke of hiring the Tang Clan—is that because we are based in Sichuan?”

Yang-hui grinned. “You see straight through me. That is half the truth, at any rate.”

“Only half? Ah—I begin to understand. Still, I cannot accept this. If anything, the Tang Clan owes you more deeply with every day that passes.”

“Between us, what is a debt more or less?”

“You speak truly. With antidotes owed piling up like mountains, what is one pouch of coin?” He turned to Chui-dal and Baek Heon-so, who looked on in confusion. “I have formed an alliance with Lord Jin—a close one. Chui-dal, send word to our main house at once.”

“You move too fast for us to follow, brother.”

“Yes—what is all this about hiring the Tang Clan?”

Where best to begin?

“The Ten Thousand Gold Syndrome was no natural illness—it was born of demonic qi, the work of the demonic cult.”

Dang-gun picked up the thread. “And so Lord Jin seeks to hunt down those hidden forces. Revenge, if nothing else, drives him.”

“Yet he has no trail to follow. The only suspicious link leads through a false disciple they once sponsored and brought within their circle: the Tang Clan.”

“Even so—the Tang Clan stands among the Nine Great Sects. Collusion with demons seems scarcely credible.”

“Lord Jin hungers to expand his influence, and now he seeks an alliance with a respected orthodox sect to do so.”

“And hiring us serves both ends at once.” Dang-gun nodded slowly. “If the Tang Clan were truly entangled, this would draw it into the light. If innocent, he gains a valued connection to cultivate.”

“One question, brother.”

“Speak freely.”

“Could we not investigate these shadows alone? Why ally him with Qingcheng or Emei instead?”

“It seems the more profitable path, from the Jin household’s perspective.”

“It would profit them—but never us. Only the Tang Clan stands close enough in Sichuan to grant us what we need.”

Qingcheng and Emei carried their own burdens, Yang-hui went on to explain—ancient, tangled ties that would complicate every move. Jin Yeong-gil had risen to greatness entirely on his own; the Tang Clan had gained its standing not through grandeur, but through necessity. Both wielded influence across commerce and the martial world, yet neither could boast centuries of entrenched alliance. They were perfect for one another—unburdened, hungry, and free to forge their own bond.

“Value shifts depending on how deeply another needs you,” Yang-hui finished. “Publicly seeking our aid would invite scrutiny. Instead, their partnership will take shape in secret. When all is weighed, this is not two birds we take with one stone—but three.”

“A masterstroke, Brother Hui.” Chui-dal and Baek Heon-so shook their heads in genuine admiration.

“And to think you mapped it all out in so short a time!”

“The young clan leader proves sharper than his easy smile suggests. I always took him for nothing more than a jolly good fellow.”

“Your praise honors me, Brother Chui-dal.”

Dang-gun laughed heartily. “When we reach home, I shall feast us all like kings! A banquet fit for royalty to show my thanks!”

“Show your gratitude by keeping certain troublesome matters far from my door instead.”

“What matters?”

“The young ladies.”

Dang-gun’s smile faded. “That I cannot promise.” The Tang Clan’s determined campaign to secure him as a son-in-law raged as fiercely as ever.

***

For all his words, once they returned, the determined swarms of would-be brides grew noticeably milder. The reason was plain enough.

“Gun-ah.”

“Yes, Clan Head.”

“We must make Young Master Baek’s comfort our first concern from this day forward.” So spoke Clan Head Dang-seong, having heard every detail of the pact with Jin Yeong-gil. Three of the Nine Great Sects and one of the Three Great Tycoons of the World hung in the balance—a weight enough to give any leader pause. “We must ensure he never wishes to leave us. If he goes, all we have built goes with him.”

Baek Yang-hui was the talent the Tang Clan could not afford to lose. But a talent driven to flee was no asset at all—it was a walking disaster.

“It shall be as you command, Father.”

From that day, Yang-hui knew a far quieter, more peaceful life. He wondered briefly why his former suitors had fallen back, but soon set the thought aside—there was work enough to fill every hour.

“Young Master Baek—shall we resume where we left off?” Elder Dang-yang’s voice carried eager warmth.

“By all means, Elder.”

He had not yet been permitted to see the Tang Clan’s most guarded core arts. That would come in time; for now, he poured his energy into the task he had set himself: refining and elevating the clan’s poison-based martial arts.

“We shall blend the very essence of poison, as we know it from *Sword Corner Poison Response*, with the qi each of us nurtures,” he explained. “United, they will broaden and strengthen the foundation of every disciple’s practice.”

Dang-gun, Dang-yeon, and the other young disciples had already mastered Immunity to Hundred Poisons. More than five among them—including the two brothers—had gone further still, attaining Poison Qi: a pinnacle of insight equal to a sword master’s radiant aura.

“The theory itself is complete now,” Dang-yang said, his voice thick with feeling. “Any disciple may learn its basics, yet it opens paths to heights we never dared dream of. Young Master Baek—this achievement is yours in largest measure. Will you give it a name?”

“It would be my honor.” Yang-hui considered. *Swallow Hundred Draw Formula*—to consume a hundred poisons and from them paint a masterpiece. “Formula, not art,” he clarified, “for this is no finished technique, but a framework to guide our practice onward.”

“A name as lovely as the idea itself—truly poetic!”

The formula unfolded in three stages: a foundation accessible to all, an advanced guide to reaching the heights of Poison Qi, and finally the *Myriad Poisons Scripture*, a treatise on realms yet untrodden—for no master in Tang Clan history had ever walked so far. That final section remained unfinished; the path beyond the peak was still being explored.

“To see the road ahead at all is glory enough,” Dang-yang said.

“I shall walk it with you,” Yang-hui promised.

Dang-yang formally presented the new teaching to the clan head and called an assembly of elders that lasted three full hours. The next morning brought the announcement Yang-hui had waited for.

“Brother Hui—permission has been granted. The foundational stage of our *Three Yangs Return to Origin Art* shall be shared with you. You may not yet practice it yourself, but will you stand with us and help us see it fulfilled?”

Yang-hui could not suppress a proud smile at last. “I will.”

“Thank you! Let us begin at once.”

The clan’s most guarded core art was long and intricate even in its introductory form. When the recitation ended, Dang-gun watched him with bright, hopeful eyes.

“I fear I cannot offer brilliant insight the moment I hear the verses, Brother Dang.”

“Ahem—naturally not. Ahem.”

*Not without the memories of another life*, Yang-hui added silently. In that former time, he had never been permitted to hear the full formula—yet now, every missing piece fell into place. He understood this art more deeply than any save its creators.

“Brother Dang—what say you to a new name, for an improved version of what we have heard?”

Dang-gun leaned forward, eyes wide. “You mean—?”

“*Three Origins Return to Origin Art*.” Yang-hui grinned. “What do you think?”
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