"What do you mean, 'we'll see who ends up getting fleeced'? What kind of talk is that?"
"Nothing," Wi Jicheon said with a faint, awkward smile.
Wi Jimu let out a sigh so heavy it seemed to sink the ground beneath him.
"They'll demand ten times the normal price — at least! How can we afford that? Buying it would be pure loss! But of course, my righteous brother will insist we do it anyway, saying it's for the good of the people. And I'll be the villain again, as always!"
He wasn't wrong.
Even if they bought the herbs at a high price, they couldn't raise their treatment fees.
The Divine Healer Clan's patients were all common folk — poor, struggling people.
If medicine became too expensive, they simply wouldn't come for treatment.
Even if it meant dying.
That was why Patriarch Wi Jiseon insisted on taking the loss to save lives, while Treasurer Wi Jimu — responsible for the clan's finances — opposed it fiercely.
"Does he think I don't pity the people?" Wi Jimu barked. "But who will make up our losses? Every time I think of our debts, I can feel my hair falling out in clumps!"
"You're right, Uncle," Wi Jicheon said calmly.
"…What?"
"I said I agree with you."
There wasn't really a right or wrong here.
Wi Jiseon couldn't ignore the suffering of the people, and Wi Jimu couldn't ignore the survival of the family.
Both were right in their own way.
'Still, if I had to choose, I'd take my uncle's side. The family comes before strangers.'
It wasn't something a true physician would say.
Though he'd been born into a healer family, Wi Jicheon's identity had never been that of a physician.
For him, family came first — always.
If he ever had to choose between saving his loved ones or saving thousands of strangers, he wouldn't hesitate.
But this time, he wouldn't have to make that choice.
'If I deal with the Southern Heavy Healer House, everyone wins.'
He smiled faintly.
"Uncle, do you know I respect you?"
"…What's this all of a sudden?"
"You act angry, but I know you're already planning to find huanglian somehow, aren't you?"
"…How did you—?"
"Because that's who you are."
Wi Jimu's eyes glistened.
Hot-tempered though he was, he had a soft heart. Compliments could melt him faster than wine.
"Ah, what's this? Dust in my eyes? You've really grown up, haven't you, Namyang's own Filial Hero?"
Wi Jicheon smiled inwardly. The bait was set.
"I have an idea," he said. "A way to get huanglian — and even make a profit."
"What? Tell me!"
"I'm not sure you'd approve…"
"Don't be ridiculous! If it helps the family, I'll do anything!"
"Of course. That's why I respect you — you'd do anything for the clan."
"Exactly! I, Wi Jimu, steward of the Divine Healer Clan, am no coward!"
Wi Jicheon nodded solemnly, then leaned close to whisper in his uncle's ear.
When he finished explaining, Wi Jimu froze.
"…Are you insane?"
"…So it's too much after all. I suppose we'll just have to buy from the Southern Heavy House at ten times the price—"
"Wait!"
Grab!
Wi Jimu seized his nephew's arm.
"…Are you sure about that information?"
Wi Jicheon's lips curved into a thin, knowing smile.
'That's why I like you, Uncle.'
Unlike with the Black Ghost Sect, this time force alone wouldn't solve the problem.
It wasn't that he lacked strength — if he wished, he could slip into the Southern Heavy Healer House at night and take its master's head without breaking a sweat.
But that wouldn't fix anything.
He had a better way — one that required his uncle's help.
And Wi Jimu was someone he could trust.
"Are you really sure about this, Cheon? This'll actually work?"
"Don't worry. Great Hero Zhang Sam here can vouch for me."
Zhang Sam stood nearby, looking utterly miserable as he was dragged into the scheme.
He had no choice — the poison coursing through his veins bound him to Wi Jicheon's orders for life.
"Greetings, Great Steward Wi. I am Zhang Sam. What the young master said is true."
"So the Southern Heavy House's pharmacy… really did have a problem with their Five Wood Seeds stock?"
"Yes. I heard their entire batch was ruined."
"Then why haven't there been any rumors?"
"They must be keeping quiet to avoid driving up prices," Zhang Sam suggested. "This season, Five Wood Seeds are hard to come by."
Wi Jicheon joined in smoothly.
He knew the herb — Omokja, the Five Wood Seeds — an expensive but essential ingredient, like licorice, used in many premium elixirs.
The wealthy practically demanded it in their medicine.
"Unlike us, the Southern Heavy House even uses Five Wood Seeds in cholera remedies," Wi Jicheon said.
"So that means…"
Wi Jimu swallowed hard.
"…You want us to buy up all the Five Wood Seeds first — and gouge them instead?"
He asked it twice, as if hoping he'd misheard.
"Yes," Wi Jicheon replied, smiling.
"But…!"
"It's for the clan, isn't it? Didn't you say you'd do anything for the family's sake?"
"That's not the problem! The money, Cheon! The Five Wood Seeds cost a fortune!"
"Who uses their own money in business? We'll borrow it. Luckily, Great Hero Zhang Sam here has agreed to co-sign, so we'll get a very low interest rate. Thank you again, Great Hero!"
Zhang Sam's face twisted in silent agony.
Even fathers refused to co-sign for their sons, but he dared not protest. One glare from Wi Jicheon made him stiffen and force a painful smile.
And so, Wi Jimu made his decision.
With Zhang Sam's "help," he borrowed a large sum from a moneylender and set out to buy up every Five Wood Seed he could find.
Zhang Sam finally burst out, "What are you thinking?! Why spread lies about their supply? The Southern Heavy House would never mishandle its stock!"
"It's not a lie," Wi Jicheon said simply.
"…What?"
"Life's unpredictable. Just because their stock is safe today doesn't mean it'll be safe tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe Heaven itself will strike them down."
Zhang Sam paled.
He realized, with dawning horror, that Wi Jicheon intended to make that divine punishment happen — by sabotaging their warehouse.
"E-even for you, that's impossible!"
Every healer house guarded its herb storage as if it were a royal treasury.
Even a small family like the Divine Healer Clan kept guards at their storeroom.
For the Southern Heavy House, it would be easier to assassinate the family head than to sneak inside.
"Me? Do something like that?" Wi Jicheon asked, feigning innocence. "What if someone gets caught? That'd be troublesome."
"Then who— Wait, don't tell me! No! I won't do it! It's enough that I co-signed that loan, you devil! Just kill me now!"
"..."
"..."
"…You done?"
"I—I'm sorry. But really, it's impossible! You know I'm just a small-time thug! I don't stand a chance!"
"Don't you want revenge on the Southern Heavy House?" Wi Jicheon asked softly.
Zhang Sam froze. His jaw clenched.
He didn't need to answer. The hatred in his eyes said enough.
"They're your enemies now, aren't they?"
"Fine. What do you want me to do?"
Wi Jicheon smiled.
"Your Black Ghost Sect will spread some rumors for me. Tell everyone the Southern Heavy House is hoarding huanglian for profit."
"That's it? That's easy. But it won't do anything. The magistrates are in their pocket."
"Just spread it. I'll handle the rest. Oh — take this."
He handed Zhang Sam a freshly written manuscript.
"The New Ghost-Soul Heavenly Art?"
Zhang Sam blinked. That was his own personal martial technique.
He opened it — and his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull.
The technique had been rewritten — perfected.
"Th-this… this is…"
"I improved it a little. Try it."
"Th-thank you!"
Wi Jicheon's "a little" was an understatement. The rewritten technique was now a masterpiece — a supreme art worthy of the heavens.
'Not quite divine, but close enough to rival a great sect's secret technique.'
He'd done it, of course, for practical reasons.
It was easier to control someone when they thought they'd been given a gift.
'Originally, I planned to discard him. But he's cowardly, loyal, and easy to handle. Perfect.'
And indeed, Zhang Sam immediately forgot all his humiliation, bowing deeply.
"A miracle! I'll serve you for life! Loyalty! Loyalty!"
And so, the rumors spread through Namyang.
"The Southern Heavy House has hoarded all the huanglian!"
"When cholera spreads, countless people will die because of their greed!"
The Southern Heavy House, of course, didn't budge.
Commoners weren't their concern. They issued an easy excuse instead.
"We merely bought in advance due to a continental shortage. If you pay fair price, we'll sell freely. There's no monopoly."
The people raged, but what could they do?
It wasn't the first time.
Whenever famine struck, merchants hoarded grain, and countless peasants starved or were sold as slaves.
Ten days later, cholera began to spread in earnest.
Wi Jicheon walked through a filthy alley — not the main South Street he usually frequented, but somewhere between South and North Street, a place reeking of decay.
Beggars clustered there — but not ordinary ones.
Each wore knotted cords on their sleeves.
The Beggars' Union.
"Well, if it isn't the Filial Hero of Namyang. What brings a young master of a healer family to such a place?"
A cleanly dressed beggar approached him — five knots on his sleeve.
The local branch leader.
"I've come to speak with the honorable brothers of the Beggars' Union," Wi Jicheon said politely. "Might we talk in private?"
The man nodded.
"What is this about?"
"It concerns the Southern Heavy House."
"I've heard the rumors. But we can't get involved. Even if they've done wrong, we of the righteous path cannot persecute a healer family."
"It's not because the branch leader took their bribe?"
"!!"
The beggar's face changed instantly.
"What did you just say?! Are you accusing me — Hong Gae the Righteous Beggar — of taking bribes?!"
He was genuinely furious. He'd never taken a coin from them.
But Wi Jicheon only tilted his head slightly.
"That's strange. I was sure you did."
"…What?"
"A bribe. You must have taken it. There's no way you didn't."
"..."