Chapter 90

Somewhere in Suzhou, Jiangsu Province.

Yuk Seung-wan, owner of Master of Net’s Garden, slipped through a low red gate barely wide enough for a single person.

Beyond it, a world apart unfolded.

On either side of the squat gate, bamboo taller than a person swayed in the wind, greeting visitors.

A few steps in, the path opened onto a pond spanned by a stone bridge you could cross in five strides.

Beyond the pond, low ornamental rocks and old pines rooted in their crevices gave the place a cultivated air.

Crossing the bridge, a central courtyard opened up, and beyond the bluestone paving stood a vast pavilion supported by solemn red pillars.

This was Red Pillar Garden, one of Suzhou’s most lavish gardens.

“Master Yuk has arrived!”

From the pavilion above, Red Pillar Garden owner Oh Jeong-ok greeted him.

Oh Jeong-ok had chosen Red Pillar Garden as the venue for this gathering—presumably to flaunt the opulence of the garden she’d recently renovated.

For Suzhou’s garden owners, luxury was a virtue and waste a matter of face.

Yuk Seung-wan, who managed Master of Net’s Garden, was no different.

“Ah, Master Oh! How long has it been? Red Pillar Garden looks even more splendid than I remember!”

“Hahaha, nothing beats Master Yuk’s Master of Net’s Garden!”

Oh Jeong-ok split her face in a wide smile at the praise.

Yuk Seung-wan, a former Chongqing merchant, was wealthy and land-rich, while Oh Jeong-ok, formerly a civil official from Beijing, had refined taste and a keen eye for goods.

The two had thus maintained a cordial relationship—at least up until now.

Besides Oh Jeong-ok, a variety of garden owners had gathered on the pavilion.

Their backgrounds varied: retired scholars, wealthy tycoons, officials pushed out of office…

But they shared one trait: all were living in the glow of a once-glorious past.

Suzhou’s splendor conveniently concealed their outdated vanities.

“It seems everyone who’s to attend has arrived.”

At Oh Jeong-ok’s gesture, the pavilion’s attendants appeared, bearing delicacies and fine wines.

“Everything is prepared for your enjoyment, so please eat and drink at your leisure.”

Guests raised cups and began to eat.

After a few rounds, a pleasant buzz rose.

Then the main topic surfaced; someone asked Oh Jeong-ok a question.

“Brother Oh, when will this land of Suzhou fall into our hands?”

The speaker was Gwan Hwon, a disgraced military man pushed out of politics for killing an innocent man.

Like many present, Gwan Hwon was ambitious, greedy, and quick-tempered.

“Brother Gwan, what is this sudden talk about?”

Fortunately, Oh Jeong-ok, herself from an official background, often indulged him.

“Skip all the fluff and get to the point. Isn’t the reason we’ve gathered here obvious?”

Gwan Hwon rose and addressed the others.

“Wasn’t it months ago that we resolved to unite and push aside Brahmacharya Clan? We’ve flattered, scolded, threatened, even bribed, but he never budged. Now, with our combined effort his name is ruined and the clan leader’s pride crushed, it’s time to think about the next step.”

“Next step, meaning what?”

“Wasn’t our goal to push out Brahmacharya Clan, seize Suzhou’s interests, and then use that as leverage to extort money from Drunken Flower Manor in Taiyuan?”

Some frowned at the bluntness of his words.

Oh Jeong-ok placated him with a smile.

“Now, now, Brother Gwan. Sit down first. You’re right—our long efforts have finally paid off. Rather than outright extortion, I think if we align our interests a bit, we could cooperate with Drunken Flower Manor, who controls the Xiangdong area. Isn’t that preferable?”

When Oh Jeong-ok softened the wording, people finally nodded in agreement.

Yuk Seung-wan added, “If only Brahmacharya Clan were gone, what place in Suzhou would be beyond our reach? That clan leader—tsk tsk… It would’ve been easier if he’d left quietly when we warned him.”

“Clan leader’s too rigid. Anyone would think we’re the villains.”

“Being so stiff-necked isn’t wisdom for living in the world, that’s for sure.”

As Gwan Hwon spoke, the momentum had shifted to their side.

Brahmacharya Clan, once the spiritual pillar of Suzhou’s people, had begun to crumble; no one now even turned in its direction.

All of this was thanks to the garden owners spreading and carrying rumors in concert.

“This is all thanks to Master Yuk and Master Oh.”

The rumors had been spearheaded by Yuk Seung-wan and Oh Jeong-ok.

Oh Jeong-ok devised the scheme, and Yuk Seung-wan hired people to spread it.

The woman Yuk hired executed things precisely—who would have thought a single word could topple Brahmacharya Clan!

It was worth the expense to hire a professional.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gwan Hwon, unable to contain himself, rapped the table and shouted, “So! How! Much! Longer do we wait? All of Suzhou curses Brahmacharya Clan— isn’t it enough now? Let’s storm in and sweep them all away!”

Unlike him, most of the garden owners were desk-bound types who handled money and affairs; naturally, Gwan Hwon’s proposal didn’t gain traction.

“Oh, Brother Gwan. Don’t be so hasty. Isn’t Shaolin behind Brahmacharya Clan? Even the quietest beehive may hide countless bees.”

“Hmph! What’s so scary about that Shaolin.”

Gwan Hwon had fought and even defeated Shaolin monks during his military service. To him, the reputations of martial men were mostly hot air; he was certain he could beat anyone in a proper fight.

“Hmph! If Shaolin or anyone else comes, I’ll smash them all with my spear techniques.”

“Speaking of Shaolin…”

Yuk Seung-wan shared recent news with a grin. “I hear Shaolin’s opinion on this matter was conveyed to Brahmacharya Clan.”

“What did they say?”

“Brahmacharya Clan, seal your gates!”

Gasps broke out.

Oh Jeong-ok couldn’t hide her excitement. “Then our patient plotting has finally borne fruit!”

“Now it’s truly over. Heh heh.”

If public opinion stayed like this and Brahmacharya Clan shut its gates, its master would almost certainly never recover in Suzhou. No doubt about it—the garden owners here would see to that.

Yuk Seung-wan rose and raised his cup.

“Esteemed dragons of Suzhou gathered here, you’ve suffered much. Soon Suzhou will fall into our hands, and Brahmacharya Clan, which opposed us, will close. Evil does not offend the righteous! When dragons assemble, how could mere worms defeat us? Isn’t that so?”

Shouts of “Indeed! Indeed!” erupted here and there.

“On the day Brahmacharya Clan closes its gates, let’s all go on an outing to Taiho together! You’ve suffered being cooped up in such dull, cramped places.”

“Oh my, Drunken Flower Manor’s lord will be so startled he might come running barefoot!”

“Wahahahaha!”

Laughter in Red Pillar Garden rang out for a long while, unceasing.

Very, very, very long.

Long enough to irritate someone’s nerves…

“Hmm… it’s annoying.”

Yeon Mujin, sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, muttered.

“…What is?”

Seo Nak-il, who was underneath Yeon Mujin, replied. He was doing push-ups with Yeon Mujin balanced on his back—nominally training, but in truth paying for failing to stop Jeong Haeng during a fight.

“Nak-il.”

“Yes, captain…”

“Speak up. Nak-il.”

“Yes! Captain!”

Yeon Mujin crossed his arms on the man’s back and tilted his head.

“It’s certain the garden owners of Suzhou are the originators of all these rumors and are nasty folk. My gut tells me so.”

“Yes.”

“But the problem is there’s no tangible evidence.”

“Tangible evidence?”

“Yes, tangible evidence.”

Yeon Mujin often appeared reckless, but he valued justification and proof. In his past life he’d suffered for not keeping such things in order. His rule was to commit the deed, but always make sure the cause and evidence were firm.

The problem was…

“Actually, evidence could be obtained by slipping away a few servants from a garden, giving them some money, or—if not—kidnapping a garden owner and torturing them once to get a confession.”

“Captain, do you call that evidence?”

“The problem is it takes time. Do you think the clan leader will postpone sealing the gates?”

“Probably not.”

“That’s the issue. What use is catching the culprit if they close the sect’s gates? Those rigid Mount Song monks won’t care about such circumstances. A sealed gate is a sealed gate; a false charge is a false charge to them.”

“Yeeehe…”

“Hey, don’t get down. My usual way is to beat the culprit first and sew up the evidence later. But I can’t do that now. The sealing is imminent, and I’m an outsider, not from Brahmacharya Clan—if I stir up the gardens needlessly, who knows what trouble I’ll face?”

“Ugh… yes.”

“So, listen, Nak-il.”

“Yes!”

Seo Nak-il felt his body lighten.

Yeon Mujin stepped off his back, looked at Seo Nak-il’s face, and said, “It’s better to find someone to do that job in my stead.”

“…Yes?”

“You go and fetch Miss Frog.”

Brahmacharya Clan’s leader, Tae-gon, was carried off to his quarters clutching the back of his neck.

While doctors and attendants hurried back and forth, Jeong Haeng couldn’t stay still and prowled in front of the master’s quarters.

“Oh! How could this be!”

Jeong Haeng felt wronged.

How poorly maintained must the sect’s defenses be to collapse from a single punch? Had the master been neglecting upkeep? Superficially intact but rotten inside, perhaps.

With the Hundred Step Divine Fist he used, Jeong Haeng could collapse a building with a single strike rather than a gate, but he decided not to worry about such trivialities—what mattered now was the clan leader’s safety.

Just then, an attendant came out carrying a bowl of water.

“Hey!”

“Eek!”

“Clan leader! How is the clan leader’s condition?!”

“Fortunately, there’s no danger to his life.”

Jeong Haeng breathed a huge sigh of relief.

But the attendant’s words were not finished.

“However, the physician says the shock was severe, so he’ll need to lie down for a while…”

Clatter!

Jeong Haeng dropped the stone tablet he had been holding.

Soon the main temple’s monastic officials would descend to oversee Brahmacharya Clan’s gate sealing. If they saw the master bedridden, what would happen?

Wouldn’t the head abbot, upon hearing the news, burst into laughter and say:

—Hahaha! Brother Jeong Haeng! You’ve gone and ruined a secular clan’s gate and sickened its master! Well done! Very well done! Hahaha!

Before his eyes flashed a future where his beard would be shaved off and he’d be confined to the repentance hall.

“No!”

Jeong Haeng cried out in fear.

At his age, if he were sent to the repentance cell, he might only crawl out as a skeleton.

One who hated staying still and enjoyed fighting, he loathed wall-facing meditation among Shaolin practices the most.

Hence, whenever Jeong Haeng caused trouble, the abbot invariably punished him with wall-facing.

“If I’m sent in this time, absolutely not!”

He wouldn’t come out gracefully. How many years was the repentance cell sentence after that fight with the Green Forests? Three years, was it? He only resumed activity after begging so desperately his palms became cracked.

This must never, ever reach the abbot’s ears…

“Is there no way?”

A woman approached him as he fidgeted like a dog needing to relieve itself.