Chongqing
At first, onlookers and drunken patrons each handed over a couple of silver taels to receive carvings, but before long, merchants began to gather.
When they arrived, Tang Mujin wasn't exactly pleased. They were merchants, after all—surely they would try to haggle the price down.
But the merchants of Wuchang thought differently than the petty peddlers who carried bundles from village to village.
These men had wide networks and confidence in selling goods for high prices. For them, securing items—even at a higher cost—took priority.
So much so, in fact, that they started running auctions among themselves without Tang Mujin lifting a finger.
And unlike ordinary spectators, they didn't value the work by the number of finished pieces.
"Twenty taels for half a shichen."
"Twenty-five."
"Thirty. Any higher?"
The merchants quickly grasped that Tang Mujin's time was the unit of trade.
Prices climbed higher and higher until the bidding hit a ceiling of eighty taels per shichen. By the end of the night, Tang Mujin had earned, beyond the boat fare, a surplus equal to two gold taels.
***
Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong stayed up all night and headed straight to the docks.
There were no boats that departed late at night, so the same ships they had seen the previous evening still lay moored.
Tang Mujin approached the one he had chosen yesterday. The merchants were gone, only a few passengers remained, ready to board.
A familiar sailor recognized them at once.
"I'll tell you now, I can't lower the fare."
"I'm not here to haggle."
Tang Mujin handed him a small pouch. The sailor opened it and counted: exactly eighty taels.
"What's this? Yesterday you said you were short."
"Money can always be earned, can't it?"
"Maybe if you were short a tael or two. But it wasn't that small an amount…"
"There are always ways."
The sailor looked intrigued, wondering how he had managed it.
"Why don't you share those ways with me?"
"I could. It's just not something anyone can copy."
"Who said I would? I'm just curious. Tell me later, over a chat."
"Very well. We'll have plenty of time."
The sailor chuckled, waved them aboard, and then pulled in the plank connecting ship and shore.
***
Life aboard ship was easy.
By day, idle chatter with other passengers; by night, a little martial practice away from prying eyes.
When they had first traveled this way, it had been unbearably dull. But now, both Tang Mujin and Namgung Myeong were grateful for the peace, after months of exhausting and frantic days.
Time passed, and on the afternoon their ship was to reach Chongqing, Namgung, lounging at the bow, suddenly sat up straight.
"What boat is that?"
Tang Mujin looked ahead. A small vessel with five men was sidling up to block their course.
He turned his head back toward the shore where they had departed.
He recognized the place. Last year, he and Hong Geolgae had stormed it and crushed the Zhangshang bandits.
"River pirates."
"They're approaching awfully politely, for pirates."
"If we don't hand over money quietly, they'll show a rougher side."
During their river journey, formality had slipped away from their conversations. Different backgrounds aside, they were men of about the same age.
Just then, the captain came to the bow and tossed a pouch to the small boat.
The pirates opened it. Amidst the pale silver taels, a glint of yellow gold. Satisfied, they turned their vessel back to shore without fuss.
I thought I earned money easily, but those fellows… they have it even easier.
Tang Mujin leaned toward a nearby sailor.
"What do they call that band?"
"Those? Zhangshangchae. They operate in the upper reaches of the river."
Tang Mujin's brow twitched.
So they hadn't even changed their name, despite their leader being slain.
Feigning ignorance, he said,
"I heard their leader was killed last year, and the band scattered."
"Ah, yes. Sometime last summer, wasn't it? But they popped up again before long."
"They reformed that quickly?"
"By autumn, I'd say. Our shipowner was thrilled—he saved a round-trip toll fee. The merchants that traveled then must've made a fine profit, too."
Tang Mujin felt oddly deflated. Risking his life to cut down their chief last summer suddenly seemed meaningless.
No. I saved the children. That wasn't for nothing.
He cast one last look at the Zhangshang pirates, then turned away with a grim face.
The ship sailed on another couple of hours, finally anchoring at Chongqing by evening.
***
The evening view of Chongqing was little changed from the summer before.
Along the riverbank stood taverns run by Beggar Sect disciples, their lanterns glowing. Below, at the lowest banks, drifted beggars who hadn't even made it into the sect. Ordinary townsfolk milled somewhere between.
Tang Mujin paid the scene little mind, but Namgung's gaze fixed on the row of taverns.
Two- and three-story establishments flaunted ornate lanterns, beckoning customers. Normally his eyes would have wandered elsewhere, but tonight Namgung stared as if spellbound.
Tang Mujin recalled their first meeting.
Beyond duels and sword-thieving antics, Namgung had been a man who appreciated life's pleasures.
How many times had Tang seen him at night, seated at the stern, sipping wine of mysterious origin?
Tang asked,
"Come to think of it, it's been a long time since you set foot in a tavern, hasn't it?"
"That's true."
"We've got money to spare. Why not go tonight?"
"No. Better not waste it."
Hearing such words from Namgung—clearly, he'd matured.
And yet, his eyes wavered, drifting from the taverns only to fall back upon them again. He still longed to go.
Tang Mujin wasn't especially fond of taverns, but the ones in Chongqing were different. He had history here. Memories.
"Don't worry about money. There are taverns here where I'll be treated for free. Tonight, we'll go. Tomorrow we'll have to travel hard again."
Namgung blinked, taken aback.
"Treated for free, in a tavern? Impossible."
"It's true."
"How could that be…?"
Tang Mujin smirked.
"Would I lie? Come along and see."
He led Namgung into the tavern street.
The mingling of string music and boisterous chatter was as lively as when he had last come with Hong Geolgae.
And just like then, the moment some doorkeepers spotted him, they bolted inside.
When they reemerged, they were accompanied by tavern hosts in fine robes.
The hosts strode eagerly toward Tang Mujin.
"It has been too long, Young Master Tang. Might you honor Songhwa Tavern tonight?"
"Sir Tang, last time you promised to visit Cheongwol Tavern. Please, come this way."
Some coaxed gently, others outright pulled at his sleeve.
These were men he would never normally encounter, yet now tavern masters were tumbling over each other to claim him.
Tang Mujin lightly waved his hand, brushing off the tavern hosts.
"I already have somewhere to go. I'll visit your houses another time, when I get the chance."
He led Namgung Myeong toward Deungseon Tavern, the one he was most familiar with.
Namgung looked bewildered, struggling to understand the situation. He had been treated well back in his hometown, but never in this way.
"What is this? What's going on?"
"Last summer, when I was in Chongqing, I… played quite lavishly."
"Lavishly?"
As they stepped inside Deungseon, Tang Mujin pointed to the first floor wall, where the carved image of the Thousand-Armed Guanyin stood.
"I paid for that with one night's bar tab."
"Oh…"
Even in Namgung's eyes, it was an astoundingly intricate carving.
Hiring someone to create such work would cost not just a few gold taels but require closing business for quite a while. To have done it for one night of drinks—it was no wonder tavern masters' eyes glittered at the sight of him.
At that moment, the master of Deungseon appeared, bowing with hands clasped.
"It is an honor to see you again, Young Master Tang. Shall I prepare a seat on the third floor? Or will the first floor suffice?"
By chance, Deungseon now had seats of honor even on the ground floor, but normally, upper floors were where the dignitaries sat.
"There are too many people down here. I'd like to go up, if that's alright."
"Of course. I'll have your favorite dishes and wine brought upstairs."
Tang Mujin was about to stride proudly up when the tavern master hesitated and asked again:
"Ah, yes—there is someone who has long wished to meet you. Would it be acceptable if I invited them to join your table?"
"May I ask who?"
"That I cannot say. But if you'd rather not, I'll refuse them."
Tang Mujin paused in thought.
Who in Chongqing might bear him ill will?
The tavern folk he'd met, the smiths in the city, even the beggars under the bridge—none would look upon him with hatred.
Only one enemy had been made here: the Zhangshang bandit chief. But Tang Mujin had cut off his head himself, so there was no concern.
"I don't mind."
"Very well. Shaolin, guide our guests upstairs."
One of the tavern's courtesans led them up to the third floor.
At the very back, with a view of the Yangtze, stood a secluded chamber—the finest room in the house.
The courtesan bowed out, and soon servants began filling the table with wine and side dishes.
"Please enjoy these while the main courses are prepared."
Judging by the speed, it seemed other guests' orders were being diverted to them.
Namgung's eyes widened at the treatment, clearly never having experienced such luxury. Tang Mujin puffed his chest with pride at the sight.
"Be honest. Did you leave a stash of money here?"
"I told you, no."
"So, what, one Guanyin wasn't enough—you're planning to carve the tavern's whole exterior tonight? The Three Buddhas of the Past or Seven Buddhas of Antiquity, perhaps?"
"They might actually be hoping for that."
The two laughed together and began eating. The food and wine were flawless.
Not long after, footsteps approached.
"Must be the one who asked to meet."
The door slid open. A burly man entered, coarse features and sharp eyes, martial skill clear in his bearing. But Tang Mujin had no memory of him.
"Young Master Tang?"
"That's me. And you are?"
"I am the Zhangshang chief. The current Zhangshang chief."
Tang Mujin's eyes darted.
This guest was wholly unexpected, and his intentions unclear. Was he here to give thanks, having gained his post through Tang Mujin killing the last chief? Or was he here for revenge?
But there was little concern. If it came to a fight, Tang Mujin felt he could handle it.
Yet the new chief showed no sign of hostility. Instead, he stepped back outside and returned with three chairs.
There were already five in the room. He set one in the left corner for himself, leaving two empty.
"Is someone else coming?"
"Yes."
"Who…?"
"One has arrived."
The door opened again. This time, an old man entered.
His face was flushed crimson, his long beard flowing, his clothes rich. But appearances mattered little—the force of his martial presence was overwhelming.
He was a master who had surpassed the wall of the peak realm.
"And who might you be, sir?"
"Me? People call me the Red-Faced Old Beggar."
Red-Faced Old Beggar. Tang Mujin had heard that name before.
He searched his memory and remembered. The Beggars' Sect's Central Vice-Chief—the one who had ousted Hong Geolgae's father to seize that position.
At last, Tang Mujin noticed the hemp rope tied at his waist, knotted five times.
Confusion surged. What was a righteous sect's martial elder doing here, seated with the Zhangshang bandit chief?
An ill thought crept in—was this entanglement between Hong Geolgae and his enemies about to ensnare him as well?
But more troubling still was the one seat still left empty.
And not just any seat—the seat of honor. The bandit chief had sat left, the Red-Faced Old Beggar to the right.
Tang Mujin twitched, half-ready to bolt—when the old beggar murmured,
"He's here."
Both he and the bandit chief stood and turned toward the door.
An immense presence radiated from beyond.
The door slid open, and a girl of perhaps fourteen stepped in.
Her skin pale, her features childlike yet pretty. But her hair was white as an old crone's—fitting and yet deeply unnatural.
Tang Mujin and Namgung had felt such a presence only once before.
It was like Namgung Jincheon's—the aura of one who had surpassed the peak, a supreme master.
Their knees trembled.
The girl seated herself naturally at the head of the table and asked,
"So, you're the Tang brat who cut down the former Zhangshang chief?"
[T/L: Read extra chapters on my ko-fi page "Pokemon1920" : https://ko-fi.com/pokemon1920 ]