The Martial Genius Who Remembers Everything Novel - Chapter 29

Chapter 29
Chapter 29. A Second-Rate Warrior Searching for a Legend

I quietly composed my thoughts and began circulating the energy within my Dantian.

Instantly, the faint chirping of distant birds—sounds that normally would have escaped my ears—and the rustle of the breeze weaving through the foliage became vibrantly distinct, as though occurring right beside me.

The moment my eyes snapped open, everything shifted.

The towering cliff face, which usually forced me to strain my neck just to glimpse its peak, now appeared remarkably small, resembling nothing more than a fragile castle molded from sand.

RUMBLE, RUMBLE.

All three hundred sixty-five of my acupoints vibrated in unison, and a surge of concentrated energy ignited like a bolt of lightning through both of my arms.

“Radiant Heaven Divine Palm!”

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!!

The force of the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm erupting from my hand tore into the massive cliff, carving out a crater the size of a small residence.

“Phew.”

Sensing the sudden emptiness and hollow lack of resistance within my depleted Dantian, I dropped straight to the ground where I stood.

“Unless my mastery reaches a higher level, utilizing this in a real fight is completely impractical.”

I had successfully unlocked an unmatched palm technique, but the volume of internal energy it demanded was simply astronomical.

It required an entire cycle of my reserves.

While its destructive capacity certainly justified the internal cost, deploying such a move in a true life-or-death struggle would be fatal; if an adversary managed to evade the strike, they would undoubtedly sever my head before I could recover.

Furthermore, unlike traditional martial arts that yield greater destructive force as one’s mastery grows, the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm possessed a bizarre trait: its raw destructive power was actually more intense when the user’s mastery was at its lowest.

Consequently, if I wished to employ the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm while conserving a reasonable portion of my internal energy, I needed to advance my mastery of the technique. Yet, to advance my mastery of the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm, I had no choice but to repeatedly execute the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm…

As my thoughts spun through that frustratingly cyclical loop, a wave of self-pity washed over me regarding my current predicament.

“A sword technique that carries less force than an insect’s drop, paired with a palm strike as sweeping and overwhelming as the Yangtze River. What sort of martial artist does that make me? I might as well call myself a speculator at a gaming table.”

Muttering that self-deprecating complaint, I pulled a small wooden container from the folds of my tunic.

This very container was the reason I had traveled all the way to this isolated, rocky peak to test my new technique, deliberately avoiding Mount Hwaun, which was my customary training ground.

“When word eventually spreads that the personal medicine of the Heavenly Mysteries Divine Physician was actually handed out as the runner-up reward for the Special Admission Track examination, people are going to lose their minds.”

The prize designated for the second-place finisher of the Special Admission Track exam was a medicinal sphere known as the Calm Heart Pill, formulated by the Physicians Pavilion of the Murim Alliance.

Some individuals might have found it peculiar that the third-place reward—the Righteous Path Sword forged by the Murim Alliance Armory—seemed grander.

That confusion existed solely because the martial world at this moment remained completely ignorant of the medicine’s authentic properties.

The Calm Heart Pill was a remedy synthesized by the future Heavenly Mysteries Divine Physician using his own proprietary blend, and concealed within its composition was a miraculous property capable of fortifying the Dantian.

The catch was that neither the creator of the medicine nor the person consuming it currently comprehended what it truly achieved.

The reason for this ignorance was simple: its latent trait only triggered to preserve a person’s Dantian from completely fracturing a single time.

Because such a benefit could only be uncovered after experiencing a severe internal crisis like Gye Cheol-yeong’s qi deviation or surviving devastating internal trauma, virtually no one in the present era grasped the true worth of the Calm Heart Pill.

Naturally, this was a hidden reality that even the young Heavenly Mysteries Divine Physician himself, who was currently tasked with blending the ingredients, did not suspect.

On top of its unverified utility, the financial burden of gathering the raw components was excessively steep, ensuring that the medicine would only be produced for this specific occasion and discontinued in subsequent examinations.

“In the grand scheme of things, the fortunate scoundrels who secure second place in this Special Admission Track exam are walking away with an absolute fortune.”

I popped the Calm Heart Pill into my mouth and immediately initiated Qi Circulation.

This particular remedy was uniquely advantageous for someone like myself, whose Dantian had expanded at an unnatural speed due to the consumption of rare spiritual herbs.

It worked by casting a protective, unyielding barrier around the otherwise volatile and softened Dantian.

The moment I set the internal energy in motion, a delicate thread of power began to coalesce within my vacated center.

That small reservoir of force traveled meticulously through every pathway of my anatomy, gathering stray remnants of vitality along the way. Once gathered, this newly concentrated energy began to surge aggressively, pulsing through the Eight Extraordinary Meridians like a living entity.

My three hundred sixty-five acupoints vibrated in perfect harmony as the energy coursed along the Twelve Meridians and broke through into the Eight Extraordinary Meridians.

After completing a comprehensive loop across my entire internal system, the energy settled back down, replenishing my Dantian to roughly one-fifth of its maximum capacity.

Under normal circumstances, I would have needed to sustain the Qi Circulation multiple times over to fully restore my reserves, but I abruptly halted the process when I detected a familiar presence nearby.

“If you arrived, you might have at least announced your presence.”

Standing directly before me was Sa-ryeon, her blade slung at her hip, staring down at me with an intense, unblinking gaze.

“Haha, considering the sheer defiance burning in your eyes when you look upon your eldest senior brother, it appears you require a sound thrashing with a staff to properly adjust your attitude.”

“If your true intention was to thrash me with a staff, why on earth did you flee to this distant peak?”

“Ahem. Who says I fled anywhere?”

“Then why have you journeyed out to Mount Seokju instead of staying at Mount Hwaun, where you usually spend your days idling about?”

“Ahem. You insolent girl. Mind your tongue. Regardless of the circumstances, I am still the eldest senior brother of this sect…”

“Stop! Why did you do it?”

“To what are you referring?”

“Why did you intentionally throw the final martial contest?”

In the conclusion of the third examination phase, Sa-ryeon had secured the ultimate victory.

Owing to a minor deficit in my overall point accumulation, I, having advanced straight to the final round, ended up in second place.

Dong-ryong, who had benefited immensely from an incredibly favorable tournament bracket, claimed the third-place spot.

Dong-ryong, having been awarded the Righteous Path Sword—a weapon that clashed entirely with his style—wore a thoroughly bewildered expression, and Sa-ryeon looked equally stunned by her first-place finish.

“Throw the contest? I was genuinely bested.”

“You expect me to believe that was a genuine defeat? Dropping your weapon after a mere handful of exchanges without putting any real force behind your strikes?”

“Did you not witness the matches? My internal reserves were entirely depleted after that brutal, exhausting struggle against Senior Brother Gye where I had to exert every ounce of my strength.”

“Are you seriously uttering such nonsense with a straight face right now?”

“Brackets and luck are simply another facet of an individual’s capability. In the grand scheme of things, Sa-ryeon, you—”

“Aaaah! Stop! Just stop it! I’ve heard enough. I am going straight to the administrators to declare that I refuse to attend the Murim Academy. Senior Brother can take the slot, or let it go to waste, do whatever pleases you!”

Reflecting back on the timeline of my previous existence, my designated purpose was solely to halt the ascent of Gye Cheol-yeong.

I had merely restored to Sa-ryeon the exact destiny that rightfully belonged to her from the very beginning.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

Furthermore, according to the grand strategy I had formulated, if I hoped to shield the disciples of the Taeul Sect from destruction during the Great Righteous-Demonic War, it was imperative that at least three to five of our members secure entry into the Murim Academy.

Yet, achieving this was a nearly impossible feat, given that even the prominent organizations occupying the heights of the One Hundred Eight Peaks struggled to place five prospects into the Murim Academy when dedicating their entire institutional strength.

If Sa-ryeon chose to bypass the opportunity presented by the upcoming Murim Academy Regular Examination, ensuring that at least one capable individual entered the academy immediately was of paramount importance.

“Hong Sa-ryeon. Halt.”

Hearing the sudden drop in my pitch, Sa-ryeon’s shoulders visibly twitched.

“The final standings of the evaluation have already been set in stone. Altering the roster on a whim is a power that even our Sect Leader does not possess. Therefore, if you refuse to go, the slot is lost, and no one from the Taeul Sect will be permitted entry.”

“But still…”

“Cease throwing this childish tantrum!”

While I could deeply emphasize with the emotional turmoil Sa-ryeon was experiencing, my position as a traveler who held knowledge of the unfolding future left me with no alternative but to force this harsh reality upon her.

Stunned by the severity of my exclamation, Sa-ryeon recoiled slightly before dropping her gaze to the dirt, nervously wringing her hands.

“What path awaits the disciples who move on from Busaeng Hall once they finish their time at Swift Blossom Hall?”

“…?”

“Do they not automatically transfer to the Murim Alliance to fulfill their obligatory terms of service?”

“…That is correct.”

Sa-ryeon abruptly shifted into highly formal, respectful phrasing—a linguistic habit she rarely exhibited toward me.

“And what exactly do you imagine those disciples will be assigned to do once they arrive at the headquarters of the Murim Alliance?”

“…”

There was simply no possible way for Sa-ryeon to comprehend the grim details of a future she had yet to live through.

On rare occasions, older members would recount tales from the era when the current hall masters were young, but those stories offered only fleeting glimpses of the immense hardships they endured.

Because those seniors harbored few pleasant recollections regarding their tenure within the Murim Alliance, they actively avoided discussing the subject entirely.

“I am well aware that the younger disciples harbor idealistic expectations regarding their future service within the Murim Alliance. However, the stark reality will prove to be entirely disconnected from those fantasies.”

“What are you implying by that…”

“Members of the Taeul Sect will be treated as nothing more than forced laborers within the hierarchy of the Murim Alliance.”

“What?”

“The prominent institutions of the Nine Sects and One Gang, along with the elite lineages of the Five Great Clans—no, we do not even need to look that high up. Even the mid-tier organizations belonging to the One Hundred Eight Peaks look down upon smaller sects as though we are beneath contempt. What leverage do you imagine we possess when standing before them?”

This grim political landscape was a reality thoroughly understood by every single hall master, including our Sect Leader.

It was precisely for this reason that, in the timeline of my past life, the leadership of the sect had designated Gye Cheol-yeong as the eldest senior brother, counting on the immense commercial wealth and the prestigious backing of the Murim Academy he commanded.

Now, however, I had entirely dismantled that original timeline.

“No outside force is going to step forward to assist us. We are entirely on our own, and we must forge our own security.”

“…”

“To achieve that level of autonomy, we desperately require the credentials issued by the Murim Academy. Furthermore, it is only by entering their ranks as ranking officers that we can claim the role of a deputy captain, granting us command over a unit of ten warriors. Could you truly stomach watching outsiders humiliate the Taeul Sect by dismissing us as low-tier martial artists?”

At its core, the Murim Alliance functioned on a strict top-down chain of command.

Without a well-placed ally occupying a superior position to look out for our interests, we were doomed to remain at the bottom of the hierarchy.

“If that is the reality, then it is all the more reason that you should have taken the position, Senior Brother!”

Though the weight of the situation clearly intimidated Sa-ryeon, she squeezed her hands into tight fists and forced herself to speak through her anxiety.

“I will find a way in regardless.”

“Pardon?”

“By participating in the upcoming Regular Examination. I fully intend to gain entry to the Murim Academy through my own merits.”

“Senior Brother…”

“Therefore, take the lead and await my arrival there.”

“…Have you completely lost your senses?”

Sa-ryeon stared back at me with unvarnished skepticism, her expression mirroring someone who had just listened to a companion claim they had encountered a mythical beast.

“No, let us simply return together and lay out the situation to the elders. Who can say? They might be willing to adjust the assignments.”

“Exactly. If the individual who secured the top spot is openly conceding the position, why would the administration refuse to listen?”

Sa-ryeon remained entirely unyielding.

She attempted to sway my resolve through logic.

“Listen to me! Are you going to persist with this stubbornness? Because if you do, I will completely boycott the Murim Academy! I swear I won’t go! If I refuse to go, that is the end of it!”

She pivoted to using open ultimatums.

“Senior Brother, to tell you the absolute truth, I am afflicted with a terminal, incurable condition…”

“So, granting the final request of your fading junior sister…”

She finally resorted to dramatic pleading.

“Absolutely not! The results are locked and will not be altered! Return to your quarters! Nothing is changing!”

I maintained a completely unmovable stance.

As we continued our heated debate, exchanging arguments all the way back to the boundary of the Taeul Sect estate, we encountered Gye Yeon-seok just as he was exiting the main gates.

His eyes were heavily bloodshot and sunken deep into his skull.

His hair hung in matted clumps, appearing as though it had gone untouched by water for a matter of days.

He evidently had abandoned all basic hygiene, as a pungent aroma of stale liquor radiated from his entire frame, and the luxurious silk garments he wore were thoroughly creased and disheveled.

As he was making his way out, Gye Yeon-seok caught sight of my approach, and his pupils flared wide with shock. A moment later, his expression twisted, and he glared in my direction with a gaze dripping with pure malice.

“This is entirely your doing. Everything is ruined because of you.”

A sharp laugh of sheer disbelief escaped my throat.

“You chose to rely on a heavily restricted and forbidden narcotic, so by what logic are you pointing the finger at anyone else? Did I somehow force that substance down your son’s throat?”

“…Ugh.”

“Furthermore, from what I gather, the authorities have made it clear that they have no intention of sweeping this incident under the rug.”

During his return journey, the official investigator Lee Ja-gon had reportedly paid a direct visit to the family estate to personally verify the physical state of Gye Cheol-yeong.

The leadership of the Gyeryong Merchant Guild had scrambled desperately to deny access in a bid to conceal the administration of the forbidden drug, but their retainers were utterly incapable of impeding an official Appraisal Envoy and his accompanying Appraisal Warriors from the Murim Alliance.

Consequently, the illicit consumption of the dangerous Blood-Explosion Pill was formally verified. Because of this scandal, the Gyeryong Merchant Guild was currently reeling from catastrophic financial liabilities alongside a total collapse of their public reputation.

“Do you genuinely believe I am going to let this matter rest without retaliation?”

“Why do you insist on shifting accountability onto an innocent bystander for a disaster born of your own corruption? Do you truly wish to sit down and formally parse out where the guilt lies?”

Sensing the escalating tension, Sa-ryeon reached out and urgently tugged at the fabric of my sleeve.

“Let us head indoors, Senior Brother.”

Sa-ryeon had also received word of the final diagnosis confirming that Gye Cheol-yeong’s Dantian had been utterly shattered beyond any hope of repair.

Given that his sole heir’s internal center had been rendered permanently inert, Sa-ryeon was well aware that Gye Yeon-seok had reached a psychological breaking point where he was prepared to resort to the most desperate measures.

“This is precisely why you ought to have governed your actions with basic decency from the very beginning. Had you done so, your family would never have collapsed into this abyss.”

Leaving those parting words to hang in the air, I guided Sa-ryeon past him and stepped onto the sect grounds.

Gye Yeon-seok remained frozen in place near the gates like a carving of stone, boring a hole into my back with a gaze brimming with bitter animosity.

Inside the perimeter of the Taeul Sect, the main courtyard was alive with chaotic energy.

The younger disciples, having finally cleared the grueling evaluations under the watchful eyes of the Appraisal Envoys and finished their time at Busaeng Hall, were congregating in small clusters, laughing and shouting as though a massive weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

“Even so, does this strike you as somewhat bizarre? How is it that not a single hall master is present in the courtyard?”

Oddly enough, the entire central area was completely devoid of senior leadership.

Right at that moment, Dong-ryong spotted me and hurried over.

“Eldest Senior Brother. You have been explicitly summoned to present yourself at the Great Mysterious Hall immediately.”

“What is the nature of the gathering?”

“I am entirely in the dark. All I know is that an emergency assembly of the hall masters was called without prior notice.”

The council of hall masters was a highly formal and restricted assembly, reserved exclusively for the high-ranking administrators who managed the institutional branches, the Sect Leader himself, and select senior elders.

It was unprecedented enough for a council that usually operated on a strict calendar to be called into an emergency session, but commanding a mere disciple like myself to join the proceedings was truly strange.

Pushing my growing bewilderment to the back of my mind, I redirected my steps and walked toward the Great Mysterious Hall.

“Disciple Jin So-un. I have arrived to present myself.”

The moment I offered the traditional clasped-hands salute of respect, Sect Leader Hong bypassed the usual introductory formalities with a brief, dismissive motion of his hand.

I walked quietly toward the perimeter of the chamber and took a vacant seat positioned at the far end of the expansive conference table, carefully observing the room.

Though it had been described as an urgent deliberation, a stifling, heavy silence gripped the air, and none of the senior leaders seemed willing to break the tension or introduce the primary issue.

Furthermore, a massive stack of unfamiliar official documents sat piled high directly in front of Sect Leader Hong.

“This entire demand is completely devoid of logic. To have the audacity to demand that we liquidate and return every single coin of sponsorship funding they have contributed over the years.”

“Precisely. What martial organization under heaven yields back funding that was freely given and processed?”

“They are forcing this issue solely because they operate under the delusion that our Taeul Sect is a weak entity to be pushed around. Was the qi deviation suffered by Gye Cheol-yeong not an entirely self-inflicted disaster brought about by their own greed?”

Piecing together the heated remarks and frustrations being aired by the elders and hall masters, it became clear that Gye Yeon-seok was weaponizing his son’s medical tragedy as leverage, demanding a full reimbursement of the financial backing he had historically provided to the sect.

‘He truly is willing to resort to any low tactic available.’

While silently berating his character, I simultaneously recognized that this conflict could evolve into a profoundly dangerous crisis for our organization.

While Buddhist-aligned sects sustained their operations through charitable donations, Daoist-aligned martial institutions typically secured their revenue streams by accepting formal contributions, charging fees for protective seals, and performing traditional spiritual rites for families.

The Taeul Sect trace its origins back to a Daoist lineage, but our day-to-day operations were largely secularized; we maintained the philosophical framework but refrained from offering ritualistic services or ancestral ceremonies to generate income.

Consequently, depending on how an external arbiter parsed the legal definitions, the funds Gye Yeon-seok had channeled into our coffers under the label of sponsorship could potentially be reclassified as outstanding debt.

“It is highly probable that the leadership of the Gyeryong Merchant Guild had meticulously mapped out this exact strategy from the very moment they initiated their financial relationship with us.”

As might be expected from someone holding the office of the Outer Hall Master, my father accurately identified the core vulnerability of our position right away.

However, while his administrative acumen allowed him to diagnose the threat, he possessed no viable countermeasure to resolve it.

“What assets must we liquidate if we are forced to satisfy this entire financial claim?”

“Sect Leader, you cannot entertain this!”

“This is an impossible demand, Sect Leader!”

“There is absolutely no historical precedent for this. What reputable sect under the sky returns capital that was integrated into their operational budget as institutional sponsorship?”

No sane merchant would ever dream of handing over sponsorship capital to the formidable elite of the Nine Sects and One Gang or the aristocratic lineages of the Five Great Clans and then demand a refund later.

Setting aside the initial refusal to offer aid, providing capital only to aggressively claw it back would be viewed as a calculated insult designed to degrade the receiving party, potentially escalating a financial dispute into a violent feud.

Moreover, because the broader martial community held a deep disdain for underhanded business practices that broke verbal and financial pacts, initiating such a move would typically destroy the instigator’s social standing.

‘The Master of the Gyeryong Merchant Guild has truly been backed into a desperate corner.’

Given that the Gyeryong Merchant Guild existed strictly as a commercial enterprise, it was a mathematical certainty that their business partnerships would suffer immense collateral damage from this hostile maneuver.

Yet, he was blindly pushing forward regardless, which served as a testament to the absolute consuming fury he harbored toward us.

“The master of the merchant collective has explicitly threatened to escalate this grievance directly to the local imperial magistrate’s office. Does any member present possess a strategy to neutralize this threat?”

By declaring his willingness to involve the secular judicial authorities, Gye Yeon-seok was effectively signalling that he no longer cared about preserving his own professional standing or protecting his enterprise.

The moment this dispute became a matter of public record within the imperial court, the commercial reliability of his guild would tank entirely.

This was nothing short of a scorched-earth strategy, an act of mutual destruction typically reserved for desperate martial conflicts.

“Phew.”

“Ahem.”

“What a disaster.”

The moment the imperial magistrate’s office was introduced into the equation, the entire chamber fell into a stunned silence, looking like a group of mutes who had swallowed honey.

Unlike the well-connected Gyeryong Merchant Guild, the Taeul Sect lacked any meaningful alliances within the secular bureaucracy, meaning our reputation would sustain crippling damage merely from the public spectacle of defending ourselves in court.

Worse yet, if the magistrate ultimately ruled against us and mandated a full repayment of the historical funding, the financial blow would completely break the sect.

“Outer Hall Master. What is the exact valuation of our current liquid and fixed holdings?”

“…Even if we were to completely liquidate every single piece of real estate and commercial property under our control, we would barely scrape together enough to meet their demand.”

He was almost certainly referring to the modest network of eateries and traveler lodges that represented the few reliable avenues of income our organization possessed.

Father paused for a dynamic beat, collecting his thoughts before steering the conversation in a new direction.

“It feels somewhat inappropriate to introduce this option given the gravity of our current crisis, but what are the council’s thoughts on exploring a line of financial assistance from the Wang Estate?”

“The Wang Estate?”

“Yes. It appears the master of the Wang Estate anticipated a contingency of this nature some time ago. He explicitly stated that should the Taeul Sect ever find itself entangled in a severe crisis, we were welcome to approach him for assistance at a moment’s notice. Furthermore, he noted that if our circumstances proved too dire, we would not be held to a strict repayment schedule.”

“He truly extended an offer of that nature?”

“Indeed.”

Following Father’s revelation, a visible wave of relief washed over the drawn faces of the assembled hall masters.

However, the Sect Leader merely tilted his head, his expression remaining doubtful.

“Regardless of how much personal goodwill he maintains toward our organization, transferring such a massive sum of capital without demanding something equivalent in return defies all basic commercial logic. It is thoroughly unbelievable that a seasoned entrepreneur would operate on pure altruism.”

“Well… regarding that condition…”

Father faltered for a moment, his words trailing off as his eyes slowly shifted across the room to lock onto me.

Why was I suddenly becoming the focal point of this discussion?

“He explicitly requested the transfer of Jin So-un, our chief disciple.”

“Come again?”

In an instant, every eye in the grand chamber locked onto my position, causing a startled gasp to escape my lips.

“What is the meaning behind that condition?”

“He indicated that if the boy possesses any natural aptitude for mercantile operations, he wishes to personally instruct him in the management of commercial enterprises…”

Without warning, I had been reclassified as a piece of collateral to be bartered away to satisfy the organization’s debts.

“This is absurd! We cannot possibly agree to such terms. The designated chief disciple of the Taeul Sect abandoned to serve as a merchant’s apprentice!”

Hong Mun-gi voiced a fierce, unyielding rejection of the proposal.

A collective sigh of disappointment rippled through the other administrators; while they recognized that selling off their top prospect was fundamentally unethical, the alternative was grim. In particular, Kang Chae-seok, the head of the Swift Blossom Hall, was staring directly at me with a completely unvarnished look of calculation.

That miserable individual!

“Even if it means we are forced to liquidate every single asset and boundary stone the sect owns, we cannot sanction such a dishonor.”

“…Yes. That is the correct stance.”

Father also cast a complex, slightly let-down look in my direction before breaking eye contact and addressing the table once more.

“Nonetheless, securing a line of credit from the Wang Estate remains an avenue we must seriously evaluate. Since our current reserves make it impossible to satisfy the Gyeryong Merchant Guild’s claim in a single lump sum, we could structure the transaction on the condition that we clear the debt incrementally over a period of several years.”

“Hmm.”

At its root, however, this suggestion was nothing more than a temporary bandage on a gaping wound.

The leadership group, including the hall masters, were merely drinking cold tea to dull the pain of an inevitable disaster.

“Ahem, perhaps it would be prudent to solicit the perspective of our chief disciple on this matter?”

Out of nowhere, Kang Chae-seok deliberately reintroduced my name into the debate.

As a standard disciple, I possessed absolutely no constitutional right to interject during an official council session; I was legally barred from speaking unless a ranking member explicitly granted me the floor.

“So-un’s perspective?”

“Indeed. Though he may still be young, does he not hold the rank of chief disciple? It is entirely possible he might devise an innovative strategy that has managed to elude our collective wisdom, and furthermore… who is to say he hasn’t harbored a secret fascination with the world of commerce all along?”

This utter hypocrite!

Is he genuinely attempting to auction me off to cover the sponsorship deficit right now?

When I directed a sharp, piercing glare toward Kang Chae-seok, he simply offered a hollow, dry cough and quickly averted his eyes to look at the wall.

“Furthermore, if So-un were to eventually come into the inheritance of the Wang Estate, would that not serve as an extraordinary boon for every member of this organization?”

Listening to Kang Chae-seok’s shameless maneuvering—especially after he had spent years enjoying the fruits of the sect’s resources without showing any real spine—left not only myself but the rest of the council completely dumbfounded.

“Why are you all reacting with such hostility? If the boy and young Miss So-so happen to form an amicable bond, then the Wang Estate and the Taeul Sect would essentially become branches of the same family tree, would they not?”

The notion that Wang Geum-san, the absolute ruler of the vast Wang Estate, would willingly wed his solitary daughter—whom he valued more than his own life—to a second-rate practitioner belonging to a third-rate martial organization like the Taeul Sect was pure fantasy. Just what kind of delusions was Kang Chae-seok entertaining?

Yet, the truly absurd part of the situation was that a few of the other hall masters actually began to nod along in contemplation.

“Cease this discussion. I will not permit this line of inquiry to proceed any further. I have absolutely no intention of forcing So-un to abandon his martial path for trade.”

Hong Mun-gi intervened decisively, cutting off the debate inside the hall immediately.

“However, if there is a particular insight you wish to share, you are permitted to speak.”

Hong Mun-gi turned his gaze back to me, his eyes shining with an intense spark of anticipation.

“What deep wisdom could a mere disciple like myself possibly offer to a council of master strategic minds?”

Hearing my humble deflection, a collective wave of disappointment seemed to settle over the hall masters, including Hong Mun-gi.

“However, if the council is willing to entertain a seemingly unrelated tale, I shall attempt to articulate a thought.”

“Speak freely.”

“In truth, have I not spent a significant portion of my time traveling across the realm, exploring various regions? During those wanderings, I happened to strike up a conversation with an old prospector on a particular mountain range.”

“A prospector?”

“Yes. That veteran miner expressed immense confusion as to why no industrial operations had ever been established within that specific geography.”

The Sect Leader and the gathered administrators all wore blank expressions, completely failing to grasp the relevance of the anecdote.

“The old man asserted that Mount Seokju, which sits directly behind Mount Hwaun, contains an extraordinarily dense concentration of premium-grade iron ore.”

“Iron ore, you say?”

Iron represented the single most critical and heavily utilized mineral across the entire manufacturing sector.

Particularly within the martial world, a reliable supply of iron was inextricably tied to the production of armaments, which was why every prominent organization made it a priority to secure mining operations within their portfolio of assets.

Stepping in before the Sect Leader could voice his thoughts, Father immediately pressed for clarification.

“Is Mount Seokju not famously known as a barren, rocky peak where even sturdy timber fails to take root?”

Mount Seokju was completely unclaimed, public land.

Because its terrain was notoriously infertile—a useless stretch of rocky ground choked with wild weeds where trees simply could not grow—no sensible investor had ever considered purchasing it.

The acquisition cost for the territory was laughably low, but since owning a barren mountain offered zero practical utility, nobody had ever bothered to buy the deed.

“According to the technical assessment of that prospector, one needs only to excavate a short distance into the crust of Mount Seokju to strike highly productive veins of iron. Therefore, what if the Taeul Sect were to formally purchase Mount Seokju, utilizing a targeted loan from the Wang Estate specifically to underwrite the infrastructure for a mining operation? By establishing this revenue stream, we would possess the financial leverage to systematically erase our outstanding debts to the Gyeryong Merchant Guild.”

Despite laying out the blueprint, the senior leadership appeared deeply cynical, clearly struggling to buy into the premise.

Their skepticism was entirely logical; they operated under the assumption that if a highly lucrative mining site truly existed in the region, a larger entity would have seized control of it generations ago. Furthermore, if the signs were obvious enough for a random prospector to detect, the imperial government would have long since stepped in to monopolize the resource.

However, I had absolutely no intention of letting this golden opportunity slip away.

Exactly twenty-four months from now, a catastrophic deluge would strike this entire province, triggering an unprecedented landslide across the slopes of Mount Seokju.

That natural disaster would completely strip away the outer layer of topsoil, exposing an immensely valuable, massive iron ore deposit hidden within the mountain’s core.

The local magistrate’s office, which currently held the title to Mount Seokju, would instantly amass a staggering fortune from the newly revealed mine, while my father would spend the subsequent twelve months lamenting in his cups that he had lacked the foresight to acquire the mountain when it was worthless.

“There is certainly no logical reason for a random miner to fabricate such a tale out of thin air. However, risking the remaining capital of this sect solely on the unverified testimony of a stranger presents an unacceptably high level of risk given our current instability.”

The Sect Leader clearly viewed my proposal as an unrealistic fantasy, though he kept his tone measured and avoided open mockery.

I offered a respectful nod and chose that moment to reveal my hand.

“I fully anticipated that the leadership would harbor justifiable doubts regarding this claim. Consequently, over the preceding weeks, I took it upon myself to conduct some rudimentary excavations across Mount Seokju.”

“What?”

“Incredible…”

“What did you just say?”

Rising smoothly from my seat, I reached into the deep folds of my tunic and produced a solid chunk of mineral roughly the dimensions of a large melon, placing it firmly onto the conference table.

It was a piece of raw iron ore, characterized by an intense, dark charcoal coloration shot through with a delicate, silver metallic brilliance.

This precise specimen was an item I had extracted from a trench I had dug into the mountain slopes earlier this morning, right while I was testing the limits of the Radiant Heaven Divine Palm.

“I stumbled upon this deposit a short while ago, but I must humbly request the council’s indulgence for withholding the information until now. I felt it was imperative to first secure a definitive material validation from a professional metalworker.”

As the realization of what my next words would signify began to dawn on the hall masters, their mouths dropped open and their eyes widened in sheer astonishment.

“The master blacksmith explicitly verified that this sample represents iron ore of the absolute highest caliber.”

Even the typically unflappable and highly refined Hong Mun-gi sat frozen, his mouth and eyes stretched as wide as a washbasin in total shock.