Chapter 4: Cow (4)
All merchants know this.
When dealing with martial artists, the most important thing is not to cross the line.
Martial artists are simple. Even Sima Hui, known as the greatest strategist under heaven, is only skilled at moving troops and killing people. When it comes to talking to people as people, or leading negotiations and trade, he is clumsy.
The reason is simple: martial artists have power.
Imagine someone gripping a precious jewel tightly in their hand.
If a martial artist wants that jewel, he approaches, grabs the person's hand, and—whether they resist or not—simply pries their fingers open with brute force and takes it. If the jewel's owner is also a martial artist, they exchange a string of seemingly lofty but ultimately meaningless nonsense about chivalry and righteousness, then tack on some absurd justification for why they should have the jewel, and proceed to use violence.
Thus, for martial artists, what matters first is power, and second, a flimsy excuse that barely passes as justification.
That alone is enough.
Now consider a merchant.
If a merchant wants that jewel, he uses every means available. He cajoles, flatters, or tries to exchange something of comparable value. That "comparable value" can take many forms—sometimes information, sometimes money. What matters is understanding the other party and their circumstances, and engaging in a battle of wits. Compared to the martial artist's method, it is undeniably tedious and troublesome.
'On the other hand, the martial artist's way is simple and convenient. But others can't imitate it. Only martial artists are allowed to do that.'
That is why martial artists have absolutely no talent for commerce or negotiation. They are so foolish and simple-minded that, to Cow's eyes, as long as you stayed within the line, a martial artist looked like nothing more than a wallet that could be fleeced at any time. Stupid, terribly stupid—yet brimming with pride. Mention sects, status, or chivalry, and their emotions immediately boil over. With such an obvious weakness, exploiting them was not difficult.
'Still, I can't let my guard down.'
If things go wrong—if you cross the line—martial artists will always resort to violence.
There are differences between the righteous sects, the unorthodox sects, and the demonic cult. Those of the righteous path do not use violence so long as you stay within the line. The unorthodox use violence for profit. And the Demonic Cult is violence incarnate. All three, in the end, use violence. To merchants, the Demonic Cult was like a cursed doll that would kill you just for approaching it, while dealing with the unorthodox was tantamount to being robbed at sword point the moment a transaction began.
'If you're going to trade, it has to be the righteous sects.'
To avenge Daeunbang, the Tang family had to be destroyed. There were many ways to do it, but most were roads to death. The unorthodox sects and the Demonic Cult could neither be trusted nor used. No matter how clever Cow was, at the first sign of trouble they would imprison him with their damned martial might, force him to work, and then kill him.
Growth without strength is meaningless. With money comes power and martial force, but time cannot be bought. Cow had learned this deeply while growing Daeunbang.
Daeunbang, too, had paid attention to martial strength in its own way. They spent money to gather retired escorts and recruited wandering warriors who prided themselves on having survived countless blade fights. But even all of them together were weaker than a single first-rate martial artist. And such warriors could not be hired with money alone.
This is where the power of prestigious righteous sects and noble clans comes from. They have long histories and a foundation for cultivating new strong warriors. Daeunbang hurriedly sent talented children to various sects and to Shaolin to be trained, but such efforts take decades. They can never be accomplished in the short term.
Thus, Cow could not create a sect, and forming a merchant alliance would only end in ruin. Nor could he throw himself into the Demonic Cult or become a snake of the unorthodox path.
So let's say he chose the righteous path.
'Ironically, the Sacheon Tang family belongs to the righteous sects.'
The reason they are classified as righteous is nothing special. Life is simply easier if you pretend to revere chivalry and righteousness and disguise yourself as righteous. Even among the famous righteous sects, there were plenty of such despicable bastards. As for the mediocre righteous sects, there was no need to even mention them—many were indistinguishable from the unorthodox.
After cutting away and cutting away, excluding every road to death, only one path remained.
'The Martial Alliance.'
The only road Cow could walk was the Martial Alliance. And so he knocked on its door.
Viewed coldly and calmly, this deal was one Cow could never win. The Martial Alliance had no reason to even look at the conditions he proposed. Where else could Cow possibly go? If Sima Hui pointed that out—"If not us, there is nowhere for you to be used"—Cow would have no card left to play. Even if he produced the letter written by the Alliance Leader, they could simply say, "That's that, but in my judgment you're not worth it. Let's reduce the terms." He would have no way to argue.
From the very start, it was a checkmated game of deceitful chess.
Precisely because of that, Cow had to come out strong. He had to prevent the other side from realizing they held the advantage. He needed to pick fights, lure them into wagers, sneer and mock, toy with their emotions, and divert their gaze elsewhere. He had to pretend he wasn't particularly thirsty for revenge, to deceive them into thinking he had many choices. Acting relaxed, acting wealthy—those were essential.
For that sake, Cow squeezed time out of his busy schedule to rest for a full day so he would look healthy. He powdered his face, and while enduring trembling hands and a burning stomach, bought himself expensive silk clothes.
Did Sima Hui fall for all that meticulous stagecraft?
He fell for it completely.
His original plan had been to show the Alliance Leader's letter and nitpick every detail, eliminating all the conditions. Now, even that was no longer possible.
Sima Hui cleared his throat and spoke.
"As written in the letter. We will accept all other conditions. We will even tolerate the absurd amount of ten percent as your share, and we will leave the execution of the operation to your discretion. But the archive is still out of the question."
"The archive is out of the question? But the Alliance Leader said that if it's a big enough matter, it would be allowed. Strategist Sima… heh, are you speaking out of both sides of your mouth?"
"Hmph. Then let us define what qualifies as a 'big matter.' How about two thousand taels of silver?"
"Two thousand taels?!"
The annual salary of Ji-hyeon, a seventh-rank official, is forty to fifty taels of silver.
One tael of silver equals a thousand copper coins, and with five copper coins you can buy one du of rice (12 geun, about 6 kilograms). That means a single small tael can buy 2,400 geun of rice. A common family can live comfortably for a year on twenty taels of silver. So how much is two thousand taels? It is an astronomical sum. Sima Hui proudly raised his nose.
"If it's not a matter that yields that level of profit, do not even dare utter the name of the Martial Archive."
"Hmm, hmm. I see. Very well."
"Very well?"
"Of course. Only something of that scale would be worthy of entering the Martial Archive of the world."
What kind of place is the Martial Archive? It is a repository jointly established by the righteous sects of the martial world, fearing that the lineages of their sects would be severed by the resurgence of the Demonic Cult. Added to it are the manuals seized by the Martial Alliance from the Demonic Cult and the unorthodox sects. It can rightly be called the greatest archive under heaven.
Secret manuals are a sect's pride and its very lifeblood. Naturally, such a place cannot be entered lightly.
Cow curled the corner of his mouth into a grin.
"Then would you care to make one more wager with this humble one?"
"A wager?"
"Whether I can recover two thousand taels of silver or not. As for the wager's compensation… let's see. How about this: that you won't nitpick or obstruct my work in the future, and will cooperate instead?"
"You insolent brat…!"
A thick vein bulged on Sima Hui's forehead. The young upstart's arrogance—constantly proposing wagers and toying with his emotions—was enough to make anyone's blood boil. Yang Gwan clicked his tongue inwardly as he watched him, but Sima Hui was clearly different from before. Instead of flaring up, he shut his eyes tightly and suppressed his anger. Yang Gwan was deeply impressed.
'So many people in Sacheon were stripped bare by Little Guild Master So's wind-like tongue, yet this man is truly wise.'
You might fall for it once, but not twice. It was a textbook response from a strategist.
Though his meeting with Cow had been brief, Sima Hui had grasped his nature through a single wager.
"I will not do it. The best policy is not to associate with a swindler."
"How very wise of you!"
Yang Gwan exclaimed and nodded vigorously, saying, Exactly, exactly.
Cow's lips twitched, and he jabbed Yang Gwan in the stomach with his elbow, whispering softly.
"Hey. Shut up."
"Ah—s-sorry…"
"…Then how about this condition? If I lose the wager, I will not take the ten percent performance reward."
"If you fail, you'll work for free?"
"Yes."
It was a good condition.
He had been quite sore at heart over the share the brat would earn.
'If I could use this fellow for free, that would be best…'
Sima Hui shook his head once more.
"I refuse. It's ambiguous from the start. Whether you recover two thousand taels or not—there's no time limit, no specified source of collection. Proposing a wager with such vague terms is itself the method of a con artist."
"You're a very suspicious man. Then let's do it this way. Whether I can recover two thousand taels within one month—"
"I refuse."
"Then how about recovering it in a single stroke?"
"In a single stroke?"
Is there such a massive embezzlement case?!
Sima Hui's eyebrows twitched.
But he soon shook his head again.
"I won't do it."
He was called the one with the greatest talent in all of Sacheon. It was impossible to predict what kind of trick he might pull. Sima Hui humbly acknowledged that fact and kept shaking his head. That annoyed So.
"Ah, you're being stubborn, huh? Then how about this? Pick any building. I'll go there and collect the money you're owed. Let's bet on whether it's two thousand nyang or not."
"You mean I get to pick?"
"Yes. Point to any place you like."
"Are you saying you want to plunder it? I refuse."
"Plunder? Nonsense! I'm just going to retrieve the money that the Martial Alliance rightfully deserves."
"Huh…"
"Eh, fine. If you don't like this either, so be it. I'm the fool who deals with a scaredy-cat who doesn't want to play even after removing the car, the cannon, the pawn, and the pieces from the board."
So crossed his arms and muttered. Sima Hui twisted the corner of his mouth at that.
'Got him.'
Those who think highly of themselves are so easy to lure. Believing they'll win a bet no matter what makes them arrogant.
Sima Hui saw through the fact that this guy was a gambler who loved wagers. Once he understood his nature, baiting him was effortless. Just shake your head, and his body would heat up and rush forward on its own.
'Thunderhead… he's fallen for his own trap.'
Sima Hui clapped his knees and stood up.
"All right. Let's do it. Come on, let's do it!"
"Huh, really? You want to try?"
"Yes. You there, Jeomsoi, you'll be the witness. Bring paper and a brush!"
The pointed Jeomsoi blurted out, "Yes!" Soon after, they drafted a contract on the paper Jeomsoi brought. From Yang Gwan's perspective, the contract was absolutely ridiculous.
"It's basically a slave contract…"
"Ah, you just stay quiet."
"But isn't this too much? No matter how great So Bang-ju is, how can we do this?"
Yang Gwan kept grumbling, while Sima Hui couldn't stop smiling.
'Perfect. If I can get him to work for me for free, nothing could be better. I've trapped him just right.'
His gaze drifted outside the inn.
The sun had just passed its zenith. The streets of Luoyang would normally be crowded, but this was the outskirts, so few people were around. Few people meant not only were there few shops, but proper buildings were rare too. So muttered,
"Let me warn you in advance: if you point to an old fruit seller not affiliated with the Martial Alliance or a government office, this bet is void. I don't think Sima the strategist would play such a dirty trick, but I'm just warning you."
"Hmph, don't worry. I'm not like you."
He secretly clicked his tongue. He was about to point to a fruit seller far away.
If not that, then what building would be good?
For now, there were two options: the small, shabby military academy called Hakseo Pyoguk, and the Gunja Academy.
'If he embezzled the tribute money, it would probably be Pyo-guk. There's a lot of money, so plenty to skim. But no way he'd pocket a thousand nyang worth of silver. Still, better be safe—eliminate Pyo-guk. Then there's the military academy… hmm. Gunja Academy. A small martial academy that also teaches academics while giving basic martial training.'
Unlike prestigious sect-run academies, livelihood-focused military schools only received very small tribute payments. The amount was so low that even if money were embezzled, it would be a tiny sum. Far from the huge sum of two thousand nyang. Of course, that was a bit annoying.
'This trickster might have planned something in advance.'
But what could he do?
The amount a small military school could skim was limited. No matter how much of a genius gambler So was, he couldn't make money out of nothing. Would he spend a thousand nyang out of his own pocket? Impossible.
"All right. Let's go with that Gunja Academy."
"Good. Perfect."
So's eyes slowly curved into a half-moon.
Like a spider watching a butterfly caught in its web.