Chapter 89 : The Slacker Ponders (2)

Chapter 89: The Slacker Ponders (2)

The next morning.

“Young Hero Wi~!”

As soon as Jin Soa opened the door while calling for Wi Yeonho, a pillow came flying at him and struck him square in the face, sending him tumbling across the floor.

“Don’t you ever sleep?!”

“It’s Young Hero Wi, who’s still sleeping at this hour, that’s strange.”

“I’d rather die than suffer through this.”

Jin Soa looked pleased as he watched Wi Yeonho rise without complaint. Normally, Wi Yeonho would have groaned about life and death and pulled the blanket over himself again, but this time, he was getting up on his own.

Suddenly, Jin Soa glanced at the sky to check if the sun had risen from the west—but it had, in fact, risen from the east as usual. He turned his gaze back to Wi Yeonho.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

‘Is he sick?’

Though he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud, the sight of Wi Yeonho pulling off the blanket with his own hands looked just as miraculous as a blind man regaining his sight or a cripple rising to walk.

“Urgh.”

Even Wi Yeonho seemed unfamiliar with his own behavior and let out a sigh as he trudged outside.

“Let’s go.”

“Sorry? Where are we going?”

“You said you wanted to succeed, right?”

“I did.”

“Then quit whining and follow me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jin Soa, who already had absolute trust in Wi Yeonho, asked no further questions and obediently followed him.

“But shouldn’t we let your sister know?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“……”

From a distance, Jin Yeran watched the two disappear past the main gate, her eyes filled with worry.

“So, where are we going?”

“…You sure talk a lot for a man.”

“Then at least walk faster.”

Wi Yeonho’s gait was nothing short of a scholar’s stride.

Unhurried and deliberate, yet with unmistakable purpose in every step—he was the very model of a virtuous gentleman that countless Confucian scholars aspired to be.

‘If only he straightened his back and lifted his shoulders a bit.’

With half-closed eyes, slouched shoulders, and a bent back that made him look like a centenarian, the only thing ruining the effect was his appearance. He looked completely fine—so why in the world did he walk like that?

“This road feels familiar…”

Just as Jin Soa raised his head, thinking the path seemed recognizable, he spotted the Silver River Pawnshop in the distance.

“Are we going to the Silver River Pawnshop?”

“Yeah.”

“To borrow money?”

Even as he said it, Jin Soa realized how ridiculous it sounded. Wi Yeonho was already ridiculously wealthy. Of the two hundred taels he’d earned that day, he had repaid the hundred he borrowed from Ha Daebung on the spot, cleared another twenty taels in gambling debts, and still had eighty taels left.

He’d used twenty more taels to repay Jin Soa’s debt, and still walked away with a fortune of sixty taels. What kind of person with that kind of money would need to borrow more?

“Oh, you’re going to retrieve your deposit?”

“It’s not money…”

“Sorry?”

“But I am going to collect something I pledged.”

“Are you starting a business or something?”

Wi Yeonho only smiled without answering.

“You’ve arrived?”

As Ha Daebung greeted him warmly, Wi Yeonho couldn’t help but think just how many faces one person could have.

The first time they met, Ha Daebung had perfectly embodied the role of a greedy moneylender. When he found out Wi Yeonho possessed the Royal Inspector Sword, he had become a groveling mess. Then at the gambling den, he acted like a wealthy investor. And now...

“You’ll break your back like that.”

“People usually say that to those who stand too straight, don’t they?”

“…I’ll only bend halfway, just halfway.”

Watching Ha Daebung bowing low enough for his head to nearly touch the ground, Wi Yeonho felt once again how hard it must be to make a living through business.

“My sword?”

“You mean the golden sword? I’ll have it brought right away.”

“Okay.”

“What kind of tea would you like?”

“Anything. I’ve got a cheap tongue—couldn’t tell the difference even if it were expensive.”

"Haha, you're hilarious!"

“I’m serious.”

Seeing no trace of humor on Wi Yeonho’s face, Ha Daebung ordered his servant to bring cheap tea leaves. Wasting money on unnecessary things was unacceptable.

“So, what brings you here today?”

“Did you think about what I mentioned before?”

“Hmm…”

As expected of a businessman, Ha Daebung instantly understood the situation from that single sentence.

“Honestly, it’s not that difficult a task, but…”

“Yes?”

“We lack capital.”

“Capital?”

“Yes, capital. No matter how capable someone may be—with people, skills, and management ability—you can’t run a business without money.”

“But we have money.”

Ha Daebung let out a bitter smile.

“That’s nowhere near enough.”

“Really?”

“Of course not. Think about it. Even though you’ve earned a considerable sum, in Hubei, someone with that kind of money wouldn’t even get a spot in line—they’d get pushed aside before they reached the end of the street.”

“Come on, that’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Don’t underestimate the wealthy.”

Ha Daebung’s expression was dead serious.

“Sure, I may have exaggerated a little, but there are plenty of people who’d consider eighty taels mere pocket change.”

Wi Yeonho found the argument reasonable.

Even his own father had placed a bounty of a hundred taels just to find him. That meant the Grand House of Wi in Guangdong, his family, had enough wealth to spend nearly twice what he currently had just for a search.

The real issue was that, to Wi Yeonho’s knowledge, the Grand House of Wi was known for its prestige, not for its wealth.

And yet, they had been willing to throw away a hundred taels without hesitation.

Now imagine the money circulating in the northern region, which made the southern provinces look modest in comparison. It wouldn’t be strange at all if many people considered sixty taels a trifling amount.

“Hm, so this money won’t cut it?”

“There are ways. You could open a clinic. But it’d only be an average one at best. That’s not what you expect from me, is it? Managing some small-time clinic so it doesn’t go under?”

“Hmm…”

Wi Yeonho let out a low groan as he tripped over a giant orchid right at the start.

“Um, by the way…”

At that moment, Jin Soa raised his hand.

“What?”

“Would it be possible to know… what exactly you’re all talking about?”

Wi Yeonho clicked his tongue.

“I already explained everything last time.”

“Sorry?”

Wi Yeonho grinned and declared,

“We’re rebuilding the Sacred Hand Grounds.”

*         *         *

“Hey, you brat! Slow down a little!”

Jang Il was on the verge of coughing up blood.

And who was he?

A High Beggar of the Beggar Sect.

Being a beggar required strong legs in order to survive. Beggars who merely sat and begged in one spot never lasted more than a few years before ending up dead in a gutter.

If it got cold, they had to move somewhere warm. If the streets got too dangerous, they had to know how to climb mountains and eat grass to stay alive. That was just the nature of their existence.

Which was why, from long ago, the Beggar Sect had been known for their movement arts.

Having traveled every corner of the Central Plains, Jang Il had always been confident in his walking.

But this was just too much.

“At least let me sleep before we march!”

He had a knack for sprinting short distances, but this kind of forced march over a long distance didn’t suit his body one bit.

And to make matters worse, his traveling companion didn’t allow for any rest—just kept marching forward again and again. His fatigue only multiplied.

“There’s no time.”

“Your little brother isn’t going to die! Even King Yama wouldn’t take a brat like him.”

When Wi Sanho’s eyes turned menacing, Jang Il flinched.

“Did I say anything wrong?”

He had a point—what could possibly happen to someone like Wi Yeonho?

Trouble only came to those who moved. If you just left someone like Wi Yeonho alone, he could rot in his room for a year or two without any incident. Worrying about him was pointless.

“Let’s take a break already, you brat!”

“This damn beggar.”

Wi Sanho furrowed his brow.

He had brought Jang Il along as a guide, but a beggar was still a beggar.

Noisy, dirty, and constantly full of complaints.

“You can rest as much as you want once we reach Hubei.”

“I feel like I’ll die before we even get there!”

“You won’t die.”

Hearing Wi Sanho’s resolute tone, Jang Il plopped down right there in the middle of the main road. But beggars knew no shame.

"Ugh, I can't go any further. Drag me if you must."

“Ugh.”

Wi Sanho let out a deep sigh.

He had only picked up the pace a little to meet his younger brother sooner, but what use was being a High Beggar of the Beggar Sect if he was this soft? A real High Beggar should be able to cross a thousand li as if it were a single step.

“And you still call yourself a prodigy of the Beggar Sect?”

“I’m a Fox-Dog! Not a Fox-Horse! I told you to bring that Flying Hawk Beggar instead of me!”

Wi Sanho shook his head as he looked at Jang Il sprawled out on the road like it was his own living room, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Get up. A carriage is coming.”

“Carriage?”

Jang Il raised his head with a snap, but then slumped back down in disappointment.

If it had been a carriage heading toward Hubei, he might’ve tried to hitch a ride for at least part of the journey. But this one was coming from Hubei.

“Step aside.”

“Tch.”

Jang Il grudgingly got to his feet and stepped to the roadside.

“But what kind of carriage shines like that?”

Jang Il gawked, jaw agape, at the massive four-horse carriage pulled by four snow-white horses.

Just one of those horses alone would cost more than an ordinary person could dream of affording. And this carriage had four of them, all gleaming with a lustrous sheen. No way it was just any carriage.

“A Prime Minister riding in that?”

Jang Il’s curiosity was piqued.

“Don’t cause trouble.”

“What do you mean, trouble?!”

Jang Il muttered under his breath.

A beggar of the Beggar Sect must never ignore anything out of the ordinary. Selling information was how they made a living. That was the mark of someone truly from the Beggar Sect.

“Hmm…”

Jang Il tossed the bundle he had tied around his waist into the middle of the road.

“Up we go.”

Then, smiling slyly, he waited for the approaching carriage.

“Whoa!”

The coachman, seeing the bundle in the road, pulled the reins and brought the carriage to a stop.

“Who goes there?!”

He glared sharply at Jang Il and Wi Sanho standing by the roadside.

“Oh dear, my apologies! I meant to move aside, but—”

“Clear the road at once.”

“Yes, yes.”

Jang Il waddled forward, picked up the bundle, and slowly moved aside.

“Hyah!”

The carriage resumed its journey.

Jang Il straightened his back as he watched it disappear into the distance. Wi Sanho scolded him.

“You pulled that stunt just to see the coachman’s face?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

Jang Il gave Wi Sanho a pitying look.

“This is why meatheads die young.”

“Huh?”

“If you don’t even know how much intel I just picked up, keep your mouth shut.”

“What intel did you get?”

“For free?”

“…Forget it.”

Thinking Jang Il was just being annoying again, Wi Sanho ignored him and tried to move on, but Jang Il spoke up.

“Even though the carriage wheels stopped for a moment, they didn’t dig into the ground at all. That means there’s only one person inside. And that person has trained in martial arts.”

“Hm?”

“The carriage had no imperial markings, so he’s not royalty. And a coachman wouldn’t be escorting a noblewoman alone, so it must be a man.”

“How is that important?”

“Ha, you idiot.”

Jang Il gave Wi Sanho a look of disbelief and continued speaking.

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