Acquiring the Murim with Money - Chapter 41

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 41. The Predator of Capital

The streets of Hangzhou were covered in the sound of weeping.
Hangzhou—the greatest commercial city in Zhongyuan, also called the city of indulgence—where wealthy merchants swarmed in abundance. The Jinlong Trading Company, which had recently grown at a dizzying pace until it earned the title of Hangzhou’s premier trading house, now found itself hollow.
The massive enterprise that controlled the distribution networks of Hangzhou, dealing in everything from usury at the bottom to the operation of grand pleasure houses and luxury goods for high officials at the top, had dissolved into nothing overnight.
“Oh God! My money! Please, open the doors of the Jinlong Trading Company!”
“How are we supposed to live now! If we can’t collect the payment for our goods, we’ll have to hang ourselves and our families immediately!”
Hundreds of subcontractors and laborers crowded before the firmly sealed iron gates of the Jinlong Trading Company’s main office, weeping and crying out in anguish.
Because the company had grown so massive, the collapse of Jinlong was no mere commercial failure. The Tianma Trading Company—which had been laying false tracks, pretending to withdraw from Hangzhou days earlier—had used its formidable capital to covertly scatter and distribute Jinlong’s promissory notes and bonds throughout the market, then collected them all and presented them at once on their maturity date, legally cutting off the company’s lifeline in a single stroke.
As a result, dozens of subcontracting workshops and trading houses tied to Jinlong faced cascading bankruptcies, leaving hundreds of people thrown onto the streets. It was a hell of perfect capital control—not martial arts, but something far more devastating.
And in the topmost room of Hangzhou’s finest inn, a man looked down upon this terrible nightmare.
Baek Unchul.
He removed his bamboo hat and poured the finest tea available in Hangzhou into a porcelain cup. His face, holding the refined white ceramic, showed not a trace of sympathy or emotional disturbance.
“Hundreds of people weeping… not a bad view.”
The bamboo-hat-clad figure standing like a shadow behind him spoke quietly.
“The Jinlong Trading Company was indeed Xue Jiao’s greatest source of funds in Gangnam. This incident will cost them their influence in Hangzhou. However… cutting so cleanly at once will provoke fierce backlash from the merchants. Moreover, those Xue Jiao dogs are seething with poison and searching for you with fire in their eyes.”
“That’s exactly why I left a trail. So the insects would come looking with their venom.”
It was the moment Baek Unchul set down his teacup with a cold smile.
Crash!
The sturdy wooden windows of the inn shattered to pieces as more than a dozen masked figures were hurled through the opening. They were elite assassins sent by Xue Jiao to murder the leader of the Tianma Trading Company.
“So you’re the Tianma leader! Rat-like bastard. Your time hiding ends here. Pay the price for blocking the path of our Sacred Religion!”
Sinister crimson blade energy erupted from the assassins’ swords, rushing toward Baek Unchul’s throat. The killing intent was so terrible that an ordinary merchant would have died from the sheer pressure alone.
But Baek Unchul didn’t bat an eye, leaning his back against the chair.
“Insects are crushed underfoot, not engaged. Clean them up.”
The moment his words fell, figures in black who had been dissolved into the darkness of the ceiling dropped down upon the assassins’ heads, swords flashing. At the same time, the figure in the bamboo hat standing behind Baek Unchul released an explosive wave of black, burning energy. Demonic Energy fused with Fire Energy—authentic Tianma Sacred Religion’s Demonic Flame Technique.
“This… what is…cough!”
Before the assassin at the front could even gasp in alarm, the bamboo-hat figure’s hand pierced through the assassin’s chest.
Squelch! Crack!
Blood sprayed and death cries filled the inn room in less than a quarter hour. In the chamber reeking of blood, surrounded by the corpses of Xue Jiao masters sprawled on the floor, Baek Unchul lightly dusted off his creased sleeve and gazed down at the crowd below the window with an unmoved expression.
“No need to incite them further—all their resentment will naturally flow toward the ruined Jinlong Trading Company. This matter is now cleanly resolved. We return to Luoyang.”
Unlike his younger brother Baek Unhui, who sought to win hearts and pursue mutual prosperity, Baek Unchul viewed the world as an enormous game board and tore apart his enemies with ruthless efficiency.

* * *

Unlike Hangzhou, where the metallic stench of blood hung thick, the sky above Luoyang was clear and untainted by a single cloud.
The former slums of Cheongsu District—once filled with stench and filth—had become a sprawling construction site brimming with vitality.
“No, stop there! That drainage angle isn’t right! The blueprint that Baek left clearly shows it should be tilted another three inches in this direction!”
Seo Harin, sleeves rolled up, stood in the middle of the construction site shouting while waving the plans.
This “redevelopment project,” funded by the vast capital of the Geum Shin Money House, was far more than a simple investment for her.
It was an exhilarating playground where she could bring to life the ingenious, modern architectural ideas Baek Unhui had left behind—the courtyard structure that opened the center to maximize natural light, the layout of shops designed around human traffic flow.
“Sigh… what in the world does that man have in his head? The more I see it, the more incredible it is.”
“Indeed. He truly is a remarkable man. But to implement it so flawlessly… no one else in Luoyang—nay, in all of Zhongyuan—could do it save the greatest architect of our time, Lady Seo Harin.”
At the Chief Manager’s affirmation, Seo Harin smiled with pride.
The laborers carrying bricks on the construction site were equally bright-faced, their brows glistening with honest sweat. They were all former residents of the Cheongsu District slums.
“Hey, Kim! Stack those bricks solid! Once this is finished, the shop there will be where we live, you know!”
“I know, I know! Just thinking about running my own proper shop and putting my kids to bed in a room with ondol heating—it makes my back ache but my heart sing with every brick I lay!”
They carried the hope of the “residential ownership rights” Baek Unhui had promised, building their own future homes with their own hands.
Meanwhile, the headquarters of the Baek Un Trading Company—which appeared to have shrunk after yielding its thick distribution networks to the Tianma Trading Company—was actually brimming with ease and substance.
Laughter rang out cheerfully from the owner’s office.
“Heh heh heh, are these ledgers really correct?”
Baek Manseok stroked his well-groomed beard while looking down at the account books before him in disbelief. Old Butler nodded with a smile.
Donggi, who had returned to the Baek Un Trading Company and thrown himself into training under Pung Geun more diligently than anyone, reported in a booming voice with his noticeably more muscular frame.
“Yes, Master! Though we significantly reduced our external appearance by transferring the Northern Gate Trading Post and the major distribution networks to the Tianma Trading Company, only the most profitable segments remain, and our profit margins have more than doubled. The medicinal herb business, which just completed vertical integration, is playing a particularly large role.”
Baek Manseok burst into hearty laughter at Donggi’s crisp report.
“That boy drew a grand picture before he left. I know everyone was doing their best, pushing hard to expand even though it was difficult. When you grow too quickly without substance, you just become an empty shell. This opportunity to strengthen our foundations while maintaining profitability is far better.”
“Yes. When young Master Unhui returns, we’ll give him a pleasant surprise, working hard together with Old Butler!”
From the spacious training grounds outside the office came the cheerful voices of children.
“Hya! Ha-ap!”
The children of the Cheon Yi Network—once orphans wandering the back alleys, now a proper intelligence organization under the Baek Un Trading Company—were drilling their fundamental martial arts, sweat pouring down their faces.
“Your movements are too broad! Soften your footfalls, move with stealth and speed!”
Pung Geun was overseeing their training with deliberate sternness. He had grown completely comfortable with teaching by now, offering remarkably attentive, personalized instruction.
Then a savory aroma drifted across one corner of the training yard.
“Come now, you’ve all worked hard at your drills. Everyone gather round and have some refreshments.”
As Seo Seo appeared carrying a large basket, the children erupted in cheers and swarmed toward her.
“Wow! Did Uncle Gwang Du make these?”
“He did. There’s plenty, so share without quarreling. And you, Pung Geun—come have one.”
Pung Geun’s eyes widened as he took a bite of the cake Seo Seo offered.
“Oh! The flavor truly opens your eyes. With Gwang Du’s progress in the pastry business, we won’t have to worry about that enterprise at all.”
“That’s exactly it. While the proprietor is away, everyone is pulling their weight… he’ll be so pleased when he returns, won’t he?”
Seo Seo gazed toward the Namyang sky, a wistful smile crossing her face.

At the same moment, in the inner quarters of the Baek Un Trading Company.
“What do you think? This Baekryeon Cake! We’ve succeeded in capturing every detail—from the petal design to the flavor—without the proprietor.”
Gwang Du, a broad-shouldered man wearing an apron, set the limited-edition pastry on the table with a satisfied expression.
Gu Sang, who had bickered frequently with Gwang Du at first but had grown close to him without pretense, nodded while sipping his tea.
“Not bad at all. You could abandon the shipping business and live off pastry-making alone.”
Though large-scale trade and the northern market had passed to the Tianma Trading Company, they had systematized the bookkeeping business alongside the Sky Wall Faction, vertically integrated the shops and apothecaries that Gu Sang managed, and through limited-edition pastries alone, the Baek Un Trading Company’s coffers were growing steadily fuller.
Then the door burst open, and Baek Yeonhwa’s voice rang out, unable to contain her excitement.
“Finally! The Han-Iron Sword has been completed?”
“Yes. As you instructed, we asked the craftsman to spare no expense or effort, to take whatever time necessary and craft with utmost care. The master was so reluctant to part with it, calling it his life’s masterwork, that we barely managed to receive it.”
Baek Yeonhwa exhaled sharply and opened the box. Inside lay a single blade, its surface a cool steel-blue luminescence, with the characters “Baek Un” and an elegant white cloud artfully inscribed upon the hilt.
The overwhelming density and cold weight emanating from that serene blade bore the grace that any martial artist would covet.
“Ooh… even someone like me who knows little can tell this is an extraordinary sword. The finish is different.”
While Gwang Du marveled beside her, Baek Yeonhwa drew the blade with trembling hands.
The moment she grasped it, she felt a thrill course through her entire body, and she shuddered once.
“Gu Sang. The sword you’re wearing—let me borrow it for a moment.”
“Ah? Y-yes. Please, be careful.”
Gu Sang hesitantly offered his blade. Baek Yeonhwa brought down the new sword with only light force, channeling no Internal Power.
She had named it herself. The Dragon-Head sword—the one Gu Sang wore every day, though its actual performance fell short, its ornate dragon-head pommel rendering its wielder one who had little use for drawing steel.
Slice—
There was no friction sound from metal striking metal.
The ornate iron blade in Gu Sang’s hand cleaved as smoothly as a ripe radish being sliced, snapping cleanly in half and clattering to the ground.
“……?”
Gu Sang stared at the severed hilt in his hand, blinking in utter bewilderment. Gwang Du dropped the pastry he had been holding.
“Wh… what?”
Even Baek Yeonhwa herself was startled by that absurd cutting power, her gaze darting between the Han-Iron Sword and Gu Sang’s face.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I’ll commission a better one for you at once.”
Leaving the dumbfounded Gu Sang behind, Baek Yeonhwa stepped outside.
A swordmaster who had just met the blade of her lifetime whispered to it in a voice full of reverence.
“From now on, your name is the Baek Un Sword. Be the guardian blade that protects all who belong to the Baek Un Trading Company. I look forward to serving alongside you.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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