A Modern Man Who Got Transmigrated Into the Murim World

Chapter 67

Of course, trading the ransom of hostages is a common occurrence in the martial world.

But wait a moment.

Isn’t the person in question the Small Sword Master, who represents the righteous sects?

A person from the righteous side, no less, someone who claims to be the leader of the sects, a supreme figure in the martial world who has engraved the title of “god” upon himself—negotiating the ransom of a hostage?

This was likely the first time such an event had occurred in the history of the martial world.

Naturally, Qin Shuhan, the chief of the Sichuan Association, couldn’t help but ponder constantly, wondering if there was some ulterior motive behind the Small Sword Master’s actions.

“Please tell us your true intentions, Small Sword Master,” he said.

Zhao Hui’s expression seemed somewhat displeased.

“I really came to sell him,” he replied.

“Hmm…” Qin Shuhan looked troubled.

If he were to take the Small Sword Master’s words at face value, how much would he need to pay for such a ransom?

This was unprecedented.

It was impossible for him to even estimate how much it would take to buy the safety of someone as important as the “Four Overlords.”

“Then, you should propose the price first…” Zhao Hui frowned once again.

Is there no such thing as a ‘price proposer’ in both the modern world and the martial world?

“Well, I’d rather not take it in physical goods, but in rights,” Zhao Hui suggested.

Qin Shuhan’s expression twisted further.

Having studied the process by which the Small Sword Master had taken control of the Jiangxi region, he was well aware of the terrifying implications hidden in the word “rights” that Zhao Hui had used.

“Are you asking for land in Hunan?” he asked.

The first thing the Small Sword Master did when he advanced into Jiangxi was to purchase a large amount of land.

Moreover, the one who gave that land to him for free was none other than the Black Heaven Murderer.

At this point, Qin Shuhan still could not understand why the cold-hearted demon had made such a decision.

Given the Black Heaven Murderer’s cruel nature, it was highly likely that he intended to seize the profitable businesses later on, especially those controlled by the Zhao Family.

The issue, however, was that the Small Sword Master had been a variable that had not been accounted for.

Such events were already part of the norm, and no one would expect the Sichuan Association to be foolish enough to fall for the same trick as the Black Heaven Murderer did.

Qin Shuhan’s sharp gaze as he observed Zhao Hui clearly conveyed that he thought so.

“Come on, I’m not some thief,” Zhao Hui remarked.

“…”

How could someone be so shameless?

The Zhao Family, who had swallowed up the Black Heaven League, or rather, the Small Sword Master’s ruthless cunning, was something to be marveled at.

Though the true nature of things had only now come to light, the method of using strategic mastery to loot storage rooms and forcefully take control, as seen in the martial world’s history, was unprecedented.

Moreover, it was not through direct conquest, but by cunningly infiltrating the market sector—a method not typically used in the martial world.

What was most frightening about the Zhao Family was how they used the products they produced to tame their enemies.

Items that could subdue the hearts of men.

Such items were often referred to as rare cultural relics or treasures.

In Qin Shuhan’s eyes, Zhao Hui was not simply a martial artist or a merchant.

He was a genius who had sparked the emergence of a new era.

Indeed, although there were many great martial artists and scholars with extraordinary knowledge in the vast Central Plains, those who could establish new systems and civilizations were few and far between.

The figures who came to mind immediately were figures like Shen Nong (the Divine Farmer), who taught agriculture to the ancient, ignorant people of the Central Plains, and Emperor Qin Shi Huang, who unified the continent and created a new legal system and measurement system to unify China.

As the saying goes, “You see as much as you know.”

Qin Shuhan’s fear and admiration for Zhao Hui were unlike that of ordinary people.

“Well, please tell us what you want,” Zhao Hui said, watching Qin Shuhan, who was wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead, with amusement.

“The Sichuan Association must surely want to expand into our Jiangxi, right? We will grant you permission to operate anywhere in Jiangxi. You can set up a faction or a trading company, whatever you wish. Of course, we’ll also give you the right to purchase our Zhao Family products,” Zhao Hui continued.

“…What is this?” Qin Shuhan asked, puzzled.

“I demand the exclusive rights to all the textiles and silk distributed by the Sichuan Association,” Zhao Hui said.

“Wh-what!?”

While textiles could be excused, the exclusive rights to silk?

The Sichuan Association controlled the regions of Hunan and Jiangsu, with the major silk production center of Suzhou being the cornerstone of their dominance in the South. It was this monopoly over silk that allowed them to rule as the Southern overlords.

When the Four Overlords heard this, they were furious.

“Is that mad fool really saying what I think he’s saying?” one of them shouted.

“We’ll pay you an additional five percent on the current market price,” Zhao Hui added.

“What—what did you say? Five percent?”

The price of a bolt of silk varied depending on the season and harvest, but on average, it was about four ounces of silver per bolt. By offering five percent more, Zhao Hui was essentially proposing to buy the silk at a price several times higher than market value—at least seven ounces of silver for one bolt. This was an amount that no matter how clever the Zhao Family was, they could never hope to make a profit from.

To purchase silk at such a high price, in exchange for sharing rights to Jiangxi’s market? This was a heavenly temptation that was impossible to ignore. Refusing this offer would be foolish!

However, it was the monopoly on silk—essentially, the exclusive right to distribute it—that still left Qin Shuhan uneasy.

An exclusive distribution right was a terrifying power that could drive a market to ruin or destruction depending on the wielder’s will.

“Buying silk at seven ounces per bolt… that would make it impossible to make a profit. What exactly are you planning to do with such an expensive purchase?” Qin Shuhan asked.

“You don’t need to worry about what the Sichuan Association does,” Zhao Hui replied with a sly smile. “The Small Sword Master is not foolish. He’s offering to buy silk at a high price and help with our expansion into Jiangxi. What is there to think about?”

On the surface, this sounded perfectly reasonable.

But Qin Shuhan couldn’t accept Zhao Hui’s words at face value.

There must be something more to this—something he couldn’t yet figure out.

He needed to continue the conversation to uncover the true intentions behind the offer.

“Small Sword Master, if you could acquire silk anywhere, why would you seek it from us?” Qin Shuhan asked.

“The issue is the quantity. The amount of silk that can be purchased from a regular merchant is limited. Even if I have to pay more, I need a long-term, reliable supplier,” Zhao Hui explained.

Qin Shuhan looked even more confused. “Do you even know how much silk is needed? You can’t simply talk about monopolizing the silk trade of the Sichuan Association. Even though your Zhao Family is growing in power, this is far beyond what you can handle.”

Zhao Hui simply smiled, as if amused.

“Am I the fool here?” he thought. “Does he not know that the Sichuan Association controls a third of all silk in the Central Plains?”

Zhao Hui had come to negotiate exactly that, yet Qin Shuhan was asking such innocent questions?

“You know, when the powerful families gave you the monopoly over iron ore, they said the same things you’re saying now,” Zhao Hui continued, “but as you know, the result was different.”

Qin Shuhan’s face tightened as he recalled the situation where Zhao Hui’s family had gained a monopoly on iron ore across the Southern regions, to the point where even the imperial government had to turn a blind eye.

“Well…” Qin Shuhan muttered, clearly uncomfortable.

Despite his best efforts, Qin Shuhan could not figure out the Small Sword Master’s true intention. Why would he buy such a large quantity of silk at an inflated price?

There was no place in the Central Plains that could sell silk at that price.

Then, suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind like lightning!

“Could it be you?” he asked, staring at Zhao Hui with a sudden realization.

Zhao Hui didn’t hide his sly grin.

“Silk Road… you mean the Silk Road!?” Qin Shuhan exclaimed in disbelief.

Securing control over the Silk Road was something even the Sichuan Association, which dominated silk distribution in Suzhou, could not do. It was a task so monumental that only the Emperor’s permission could make it possible. Only two trading families in the entire continent—Qianhua and Mankun—controlled the Silk Road.

“Did you really secure the Silk Road?” Qin Shuhan asked, his voice shaking.

“I don’t think it’s necessary to explain the operations of our Zhao Family to you,” Zhao Hui responded vaguely, though his words hinted at the truth.

If Zhao Hui had not secured the Silk Road, there would be no reason to buy silk at such a high price.

It was a move far beyond Qin Shuhan’s authority.

Now in a dilemma, Qin Shuhan turned to the leader of the Sichuan Association, who had been silent until now.

“Leader, what should we do?” Qin Shuhan asked.

The Four Overlord’s leader looked mildly surprised. It was the first time Qin Shuhan had deferred a decision to him, signaling that even his great wisdom couldn’t make sense of this situation.

After a long period of deep contemplation, the Four Overlord leader finally spoke in a heavy voice.

“If you add an additional five percent on top of the existing transaction price, I will make the decision,” the Four Overlord leader said.

Surprisingly, Zhao Hui nodded readily.

“Let’s do that,” he agreed.

Upon hearing this, the Four Overlord leader, who had expected some resistance, felt increasingly uneasy as he lowered his face.

“Five percent!”

When the silk from the Central Plains made its way across the Silk Road to the Western Regions, its price would increase by at least ten times.

The love the Westerners had for Eastern silk and pepper was legendary.

Still, Zhao Hui found it laughable that a so-called “Evil Emperor” was now talking so lightly, contradicting himself.

“That so-called Evil Emperor…” Zhao Hui muttered under his breath.

Though five percent was still not more than double the current price, Zhao Hui was calculating the costs and profits involved. After carefully considering it, he nodded once more.

“Five percent? Fine! We’ll accept. But this is the final offer—no more negotiations.”

“Well, you’re a bold man for someone from the righteous faction. I like that. In that case, I will accept your proposal as well.”

With the negotiation settled as smoothly as flowing water, Zhao Hui now looked at the Black Sky Executioner with satisfaction.

He had gained the monopoly to a business venture that would make enormous profits, all while finding a way to deal with that brutal man by using someone else’s hands.

It seemed like the perfect situation.

“You’ll execute him, right?” Zhao Hui asked.

“Of course. Tonight, in front of all our subordinates, I will personally handle his execution. Considering the damage he’s caused to our organization…” The Evil Emperor’s voice trailed off.

There was a distinct crackling sound as he spoke, the air around him charged with a menacing aura that made anyone watching feel a chill run down their spine.

At that moment, the Black Sky Executioner, who had been lying on the floor, slowly began to stir, his head lifting as he fixed his gaze on the Evil Emperor.

“Jang Cheon…” he muttered weakly.

Even in his condition, the Black Sky Executioner dared to speak his real name.

“You bastard, you’re truly insane!” the Evil Emperor snarled.

Clang—

But before the Black Sky Executioner could speak again, the Evil Emperor swiftly retracted his sword.

“Jang Cheon, don’t you miss your daughter?” the Black Sky Executioner said, his voice shaking but full of malice.

“What, what did you say?”

The Evil Emperor’s hatred for the Black Sky Executioner stemmed from his belief that the man was responsible for the disappearance of his daughter, Sa Jung-hwa, known as the “Evil Flower.”

“Ah… Sa Jung-hwa is still alive. Only I know where she’s hidden,” the Black Sky Executioner declared.

Despite the pain, he struggled to sit upright, his eyes burning with intensity.

Zhao Hui could see the sudden shift in his demeanor and understood the gravity of the moment. He was finally revealing the truth.

“You, Small Sword Master, made the worst decision by bringing me to the Sichuan Association,” the Black Sky Executioner continued, a sinister grin creeping onto his face. “I’ve been toying with you. I’ve wanted to shout in victory many times.”

Zhao Hui remained silent, but the Black Sky Executioner chuckled and turned his attention back to the Evil Emperor.

“Kill them all, and I will tell you where your daughter is,” he offered.

Jin Ga-hee, standing nearby, shook her head in disbelief.

“Wow, honestly, I think Brother Zhao Hui is a bit crazy. How could he have predicted all this?” she muttered, watching the situation unfold.

The Black Sky Executioner, flustered, asked, “Wha-what are you saying, you girl?”

Jin Ga-hee looked at the Evil Emperor with a mix of pity and disdain.

“I know Sa Jung-hwa, and I know Duk Go-rin as well. She was my colleague,” she said.

The Black Sky Executioner’s pupils trembled violently, as if he had just felt an earthquake. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He had cut Sa Jung-hwa’s tongue off immediately after taking her, but how did this girl know about that?

With a cold smile, Jin Ga-hee turned to the Evil Emperor and dropped a bombshell.

“That piece of trash has had his eyes on Sa Jung-hwa for a long time. He was the one who ordered her abduction after watching her during the Mid-Autumn Festival performance,” she revealed.

“What…?” The Evil Emperor’s face went pale as the reality of the situation hit him.

The rumors had always been around, but hearing the truth was another matter entirely.

“You know about the rumors of his love for young girls, don’t you? You must be familiar with the Donghwa Pavilion of the Black Sky Family, right?” Jin Ga-hee smiled wickedly, looking at the Black Sky Executioner.

“When he took Sa Jung-hwa and strangled her to death, the Black Sky Family held a celebration. That was probably the happiest day of his life,” she added, her eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction.

If Zhao Hui hadn’t shared the information he obtained from the intelligence network, Jin Ga-hee would have lived her life believing the girl she knew as Mu Seol had simply been mute.

But now, she knew the truth—Sa Jung-hwa, the beautiful girl with a cut-off tongue, had been taken and silenced, known only as Mu Seol.

She, who always looked up at the sky with an indifferent expression, had a sturdy build and an incredibly fierce gaze, which made her classmates whisper that she was probably the daughter of a martial artist from the Jianghu.

New recruits to the Donghwa Pavilion were usually given at least a few days of respite. They were fed well, given ample rest to recover their strength, and then given time to groom themselves according to the Black Sky Executioner’s preferences.

However, Mu Seol was the fastest to be chosen by the Black Sky Executioner in the history of Donghwa Pavilion, and she was also the cruelest to die.

Her long, grotesquely cut tongue. Her face, repeatedly slashed.

At the time, Jin Ga-hee trembled in horror at the Black Sky Executioner’s brutality, but a deep question formed in her mind.

Why had the Black Sky Executioner, who took pleasure in hearing the screams of young girls, cut the tongue off such a beautiful child?

“We were all curious back then. Why did he do that to such a beautiful girl? But now it all makes sense. He must have wanted to hide that she was the Evil Emperor’s daughter,” Jin Ga-hee said.

“Ugh…” The Evil Emperor’s face twisted in rage as he glared at the Black Sky Executioner. His expression was like that of a demon, full of murderous intent, so palpable it could kill with a single glance.

“No, that can’t be true! Tell me where my daughter is!” he shouted.

Jin Ga-hee smirked.

“The Black Sky Executioner had abolished the Donghwa Pavilion some time ago. Among us, there were rumors that he had lost his manhood or changed his mind, but there’s no way a dog stops eating shit, is there?” she mocked.

Zhao Hui also smirked, his expression venomous.

“The timing of the Black Sky Executioner’s dissolution of Donghwa Pavilion coincided perfectly with when the Black Sky Clan started expanding its power and made deals with the local government. He was trying to be cautious of external eyes. Can you imagine, holding banquets and inviting government officials while still running a perverted den like Donghwa Pavilion? If the truth came out, would those stubborn scholars just stand by?”

Zhao Hui took a map out of his coat.

“The Black Sky Executioner must have predicted the fall of the Black Sky Clan. Look at how many secret estates and residences he set up in advance. But of course, a dog can never stop eating shit,” he scoffed, handing the map to the Evil Emperor.

“Those places marked with red dots on the map are the Black Sky Executioner’s new version of Donghwa Pavilion,” Zhao Hui explained.

“So, here…” the Evil Emperor asked, pointing at the map.

Zhao Hui shook his head indifferently.

“Unfortunately, after that, Mu Seol’s trail disappears. Based on all the information we have, it’s clear that Mu Seol and Sa Jung-hwa are the same person, at least beyond reasonable doubt,” he said.

The Evil Emperor continued to stare at the Black Sky Executioner with an expression twisted like a demon’s.

“Did you really cut my daughter Lin-ah’s tongue?” he asked, his voice full of rage.

“…” The Black Sky Executioner remained silent.

“Did you really rape her, strangle her to death, and slash her beautiful face with a sword?” the Evil Emperor demanded.

The Black Sky Executioner’s eyes, once filled with malice, began to dull, and a sense of despair flashed across his face before he quickly replaced it with an expression of cruelty.

“Now, what are you going to do? If you hadn’t spoken so much about the shame of the demonic faction, none of this would have happened!” he snarled.

Now that the Evil Emperor understood the full story, his face lost all color, and his gaze turned as cold and emotionless as a soulless person.

“I will tear you apart with my own hands. I will chew up your filthy body and consume it piece by piece,” the Evil Emperor declared, his voice laced with venom.

The Black Sky Executioner, as though giving up on life, lowered his gaze and firmly closed his mouth.

Curious, Zhao Hui asked, “Why is the Black Sky Clan considered a disgrace to the demonic faction?”

The Evil Emperor’s voice, full of authority, was directed at the Black Sky Executioner as he spoke each word with emphasis, as if delivering a final statement.

“The sword of the demonic faction represents the sorrows of the powerless. It is a cry of vengeance aimed at the world. The demonic faction doesn’t care for the so-called ‘forbidden ways’ because it has realized that neither ideals nor conventions can heal the wounds of the wronged,” the Evil Emperor explained.

“Hmmm,” Zhao Hui responded, his thoughts turning as he absorbed the words.

The Evil Emperor then pointed at the Black Sky Executioner.

“However, in the case of the Black Sky Clan, it is filled only with ugly greed, and there is no cry or sorrow of the wronged. They are nothing more than a band of street thugs who will do anything for money,” he continued.

Zhao Hui felt that the Evil Emperor’s words exuded a sense of resistance, like a figure opposing the world. Although he didn’t fully understand the Evil Emperor’s perspective, he couldn’t entirely dismiss it either.

For Zhao Hui, the concepts of righteousness and evil were simply differing worldviews.

The atmosphere of the Sa Cheon Hui, which was steeped in the scent of traditional demonic teachings, felt distinctly different from the Black Sky Clan, which had been tainted by greed.

It was strange. The rumors he had heard about the Evil Emperor spoke of a man who had forsaken his humanity, a ruthless and evil leader who had committed monstrous acts.

Could the rumors truly be false?

Zhao Hui, attempting to shift the mood, said, “Alright! The deal is settled and the questions are all cleared up, so let’s get to drafting the contract!”

“No, there’s still one more thing to address,” the Evil Emperor said, his gaze turning to Kang Biwoo with a piercing look.

“Do you think the Jianghu is some sort of game?” he asked.

“…” Kang Biwoo remained silent, and the Evil Emperor slowly unsheathed his sword.

*Swish—*

“Although there was no formal teaching, you have learned my martial arts, so you are like one of my formal disciples. Moreover, you are the secret swordmaster of the Sa Cheon Hui. What do you intend to do about the swordmen who follow you so loyally?” the Evil Emperor questioned.

“…” Kang Biwoo said nothing.

“A man must take responsibility for his actions. No matter how obsessed you are with martial arts, how can you belong to the righteous faction?” the Evil Emperor continued.

“But you gave me permission,” Kang Biwoo replied.

“I allowed you to discuss swords, but I never told you to join the Sa Cheon Hui!” the Evil Emperor snapped.

As he listened to the Evil Emperor’s words, Zhao Hui couldn’t help but feel guilty. No matter how much he admired Kang Biwoo’s martial prowess, the thought that Kang Biwoo was a madman lingered in his mind.

From the Evil Emperor’s perspective, wasn’t Kang Biwoo simply a scoundrel?

“My Jianghu is the sword,” Kang Biwoo stated firmly. “It is not the Sa Cheon Hui. That title of secret swordmaster was an unwanted responsibility you forced upon me.”

The Evil Emperor had done everything in his power to make Kang Biwoo feel a sense of belonging to the Sa Cheon Hui, but now, reflecting on his own stubborn past, he was furious that Kang Biwoo had joined the righteous faction.

This was certainly crossing a line.

“Fine. Since our Jianghus are different, it seems the only way left to resolve this is to prove ourselves with the sword,” the Evil Emperor declared.

As the leader of the demonic faction, the Evil Emperor was a supreme martial artist, surpassing even the leader of the Black Sky Clan. He was a living legend of the demonic world.

When such an extraordinary martial artist challenged Kang Biwoo to a life-and-death duel, Kang Biwoo did not show fear or hesitation. Instead, his face lit up with a look of exhilaration.

A strange, ethereal energy began to emanate from Kang Biwoo’s body, similar to the renowned Celestial Evil True Qi that the Evil Emperor was emitting.

The overwhelming pressure of the True Qi, which sent waves of tingling sensations through the Evil Emperor’s skin, left him slightly startled.

“You crazy bastard!” the Evil Emperor exclaimed.

When it came to martial talent, Kang Biwoo was undoubtedly a genius among geniuses.

The speed at which his martial arts developed was incomparable to any genius Zhao Hui had ever seen.

However, even so, he was still in the early stages of martial arts cultivation.

Compared to the realm of absolute mastery that he had attained, Kang Biwoo’s level was merely a drop in the ocean.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve encountered a true manifestation of the Heavenly Evil Sword. My heart is racing with excitement,” the Evil Emperor said.

“If I can’t take you, I’ll kill you and make an example of you for my subordinates,” he added with a threatening tone.

Just as the Evil Emperor was about to unleash his immense power and spring forward like a coiled spring, Zhao Hui interjected.

“Emperor, are you toying with me?”

The Evil Emperor froze, confused. Zhao Hui’s words made his mental map disintegrate, much like how spring sunshine melts snow, naturally and effortlessly.

“No, no!”

It was an occurrence that could only be explained by an overwhelming martial soul, one that was far superior—an unfathomable level of mastery.

Even as his mental map was falling apart, the Evil Emperor continued to focus on Zhao Hui’s martial soul, desperately trying to gauge his opponent’s level. However, he could neither understand the opponent’s level nor even grasp the nature of his martial soul.

The energy emanating from Zhao Hui was neither the gentle, melodic energy of a bard nor the brutal, violent energy of a killer.

It was an incomprehensible, strange form of energy that could not be described with words.

The Evil Emperor, from his vast experience, recognized only one possibility for this phenomenon: the state of unity with heaven and earth—known as **Heaven-Earth Harmony**.

Cultivators in the Jianghu referred to this particular martial soul trait as “Natural State” (**Natural environment**, a state of balance with nature), where the person’s martial soul blends perfectly with the natural world.

“Heaven-Earth Harmony? Could it be that you’ve attained the Natural State?” the Evil Emperor asked in shock.

“Not quite… but it’s somewhat similar,” Zhao Hui replied with a sly smile.

“You all try to prove your paths through force! As expected, the demonic faction’s way is as bold as ever. But there’s a time and place for such stubbornness,” Zhao Hui added.

“A time and place?” the Evil Emperor questioned.

“When one can annihilate the entire Sa Cheon Hui’s army with a single thought, and yet you still try to prove your respective paths—surely this is reckless arrogance, don’t you think?” Zhao Hui said, teasing the Evil Emperor.

“What?!”

The Evil Emperor snorted, enraged. How dare Zhao Hui speak like that in front of the leader of the Sa Cheon Hui? This was truly audacious!

Despite his angry demeanor, the Evil Emperor failed to take Zhao Hui seriously, given his youthful and unimposing appearance.

But what happened next shocked him. Kang Biwoo, who had seemed intent on never sheathing his sword, suddenly placed his blade back into its scabbard without hesitation.

“Come to think of it, you’re right. It would have been quite a ridiculous sight,” Kang Biwoo said, his eyes wide open in realization.

The Evil Emperor was stunned. What was this absurd behavior?

Was the ignorant and fearless Kang Biwoo really giving up the duel, filled with fear and regret?

This was a fresh shock to the Evil Emperor.

Kang Biwoo looked at the Evil Emperor’s sword and casually advised him.

“The Small Sword Saint is a martial artist who can erase the vast Po Yang Lake with a single sword strike. You should stop drawing your sword now.”

Po Yang Lake, also known as the “Small Sea”, was enormous—like an ocean. Erasing such a massive lake with a single strike? The Evil Emperor couldn’t even begin to fathom this.

“How convenient. If the rule of the demonic faction is that the strongest man leads, then I’ll accept that law,” Zhao Hui remarked.

From Zhao Hui’s perspective, the simple and direct approach of the demonic faction was far more appealing than the endless politics and scheming of the righteous faction.

The simple yet effective approach of the demonic world was much more to his liking.

The entire valley was engulfed in a heavy vibration.

For the first time, the Evil Emperor was faced with Zhao Hui’s true martial soul, and he froze like ice.

“For now, I will keep Kang Biwoo for ten years. After that, I will send him back,” the Evil Emperor said.

Zhao Hui felt a slight pang of guilt, but Kang Biwoo was, after all, the most cost-effective martial artist ever, someone who would stick with the Sa Cheon Hui as long as he was given a steady supply of food and a comfortable position.

For Zhao Hui, giving him up so easily was not an option.

As the Evil Emperor was about to argue with a bewildered expression, Zhao Hui’s sharp gaze turned to Jin Seohan, the head of the army.

“Let’s sign the contract now. If we keep stalling over the details, it’ll take forever. Are we going to keep standing around like this?”

Jin Seohan, awkwardly glancing at the Evil Emperor, seemed hesitant, and Zhao Hui, frustrated, snapped.

“Why is it that people who manage half of the Jiangnan are so chicken-hearted?”

Insane!

What Zhao Hui was suggesting to bring to the negotiation table was the exclusive trade rights to all the silks distributed by the Sa Cheon Hui.

Such a monumental decision was being treated like it was a trivial matter—something that could be done as easily as lighting incense at a temple.

“The more I see, the more unique you are,” the supreme leader of the demonic faction, Tian Guai, murmured, revealing his thoughts at last.

His spiritual power was so strong that it could even attract the attention of the Immortal Lords.

Given that the Immortal Lords paid no special attention even to someone as renowned as the Heavenly Sword Master, Dan Tianyang, Tian Guai’s presence was a significant matter for Zhao Hui as well.

Tian Guai sternly scolded the Evil Emperor.

“His words and actions may seem eccentric, and his conduct is anything but dignified, but everything he does is a meticulously calculated strategy to provoke his opponent. If you allow yourself to be swayed by such tactics and suffer as a result, how can you ever call yourself a leader?”

In the presence of so many witnesses, it would have been natural for the Evil Emperor to feel defiant, but surprisingly, he lowered his head respectfully and withdrew.

This single action alone made Zhao Hui quickly deduce the influence of Tian Guai within the Sa Cheon Hui.

This man was the true absolute power behind the Sa Cheon Hui!

This was Zhao Hui’s sharp conclusion.

“I’m not sure if that was a compliment or a criticism, but since it’s all good, I’ll take it as a compliment,” Zhao Hui said with a grin.

Tian Guai smiled gently, accepting Zhao Hui’s playful expression.

“Your level is truly astonishing. Not only is your martial power exceptional, but your spiritual power—it’s beyond belief. Even seeing it with my own eyes, I still can’t quite believe it.”

The ability to gauge another’s spiritual power?

This was the most conclusive evidence that his existence transcended that of mere humans.

“To have reached that level and still wear a human body—this is truly remarkable,” Tian Guai remarked with further interest.

The way he referred to Zhao Hui’s achievements as “that level” sounded strange, as it implied a sense of distance, but it was clear that Zhao Hui had truly impressed him.

Indeed, Zhao Hui was a master of words.

“Even if you were taught to speak since birth, you couldn’t surpass your clever tongue,” Tian Guai added, almost laughing.

“Haha, you’re flattering me so much, I don’t know what to do with myself,” Zhao Hui responded, not one bit shy about the praise.

The strategy of provoking one’s opponent with words, through a method called “verbal combat,” has long been a simple yet powerful tactic, and Zhao Hui wielded it effortlessly.

Tian Guai, though clearly irritated, showed no sign of outward anger.

He had walked through far too many years of experience to be shaken by such a young man’s cunning words.

“The exclusive rights to a single commodity cannot be negotiated based merely on price,” Tian Guai said, his voice growing slightly stern.

Zhao Hui smirked.

“Of course. It’s the exclusive rights to silk, after all. Are you treating me like a fool who doesn’t understand business? Did I simply offer to buy at a good price? I also made an offer to help the Sa Cheon Hui expand into the western regions, didn’t I?”

“Not enough.”

It was clear that Tian Guai wanted something more.

Zhao Hui frowned.

“Even now, outside the gates of our Zhao Ga Dae Sang Hui, merchants are clamoring to sell their goods. The area is packed with people every day, bustling with activity. I guess you don’t understand the ways of the world, but our goods aren’t as easy to acquire as you think.”

Tian Guai spoke firmly, his face expressionless.

“Your proposals may sound plausible, but there’s a major variable.”

“A variable?” Zhao Hui asked.

Tian Guai’s gaze deepened, radiating a more intense energy.

“That variable is you. As long as you are alive, all negotiations and offers are void. Therefore, I demand your life for this deal.”

“What is this senile old man babbling about?” Zhao Hui sneered.

*Slash!*

Jin Ga-hee, with a sharp swing of her blood-red sword, slammed it into the ground, growling in anger.

As she insulted Tian Guai, calling him a senile old man, the Sa Cheon Hui warriors surrounding them were enraged and began drawing their weapons, but Tian Guai’s slow hand gesture stopped them all in their tracks.

Zhao Hui, however, remained calm, his face expressionless.

“Let’s hear your reasoning.”

Tian Guai, who had been glaring coldly at Jin Ga-hee, shifted his gaze back to Zhao Hui.

“You claim to be a merchant, yet at the same time, you adopt the appearance of the leader of a martial sect, don’t you?”

In other words, Tian Guai’s implication was that while a merchant’s word could be trusted, the word of a martial sect leader could not.

Throughout history, there had been countless instances where agreements between martial factions were broken. The most frequent examples were between the North Sea and the South Man region.

Especially for the Beast Palace (Ya-Su Gong), the non-aggression pact was nothing more than a piece of paper.

But was Central Plains any different?

Certainly not.

The Iron-Blooded Lion Sect had broken their agreement and invaded the righteous factions’ territories.

On the other hand, the White Sword Sect had invaded the demonic factions.

When the disparity in strength became too great, the agreements made by previous generations were nothing more than decorative formalities.

As long as human greed remained, in the martial world, the fist always took precedence over mere words.

But merchants were different.

If they didn’t keep their word, survival itself would be impossible.

Tian Guai keenly zeroed in on this point, and it was evident that his insight came from years of experience.

This was exactly why one could not afford to underestimate an old man!

Zhao Hui frowned.

“Are you seriously telling me that the most important thing to a person is their life, and you’re asking for it in exchange for a deal?”

Tian Guai chuckled.

“The same person who casually mentioned wiping out the entire army of Sa Cheon Hui with a single stroke is now questioning my request for your life. You’ve proven yourself to be a typical martial person—one who is willing to upend everything when it suits you. As long as you are alive, no agreement will have any meaning.”

Zhao Hui had been caught by a sharp point in Tian Guai’s logic.

He couldn’t think of a way to counter Tian Guai’s argument. Up until now, he had never been overpowered by anyone in verbal combat!

Today, however, he had met his match.

But if he were to back down here, how could he ever live up to the title of *Soeomshin* (the Master of the Small Sword)?

Zhao Hui knew all too well how powerful his cards were.

“Ga-hee, pack up. Knock that old fool out again.”

“Got it!” Jin Ga-hee responded, ready for action.

As Zhao Hui decisively turned away, it was none other than the Evil Emperor who appeared utterly flustered.

“Wa-wait!”

To him, Black Heaven Great Kill (Heukcheon Daesal) was the sworn enemy who had brutally murdered his daughter.

The path to avenge that deep hatred was now vanishing before his eyes.

“Invalid. This deal is null and void. How can we even talk if there’s no understanding?”

The Evil Emperor swallowed his tears of rage as he stood before Tian Guai, deeply bowing his head.

“Great One…”

Would Tian Guai’s feelings be any different from his own? He also wanted to tear apart Black Heaven Great Kill with his own hands.

“Hmm…”

However, if he were to make a deal with this cunning Xiao Sword God, it would likely lead to the same fate as Black Heaven Lotus—an irreversible downfall.

Black Heaven Lotus was no trivial faction. Even they had fallen into the abyss of hell due to a single wrong agreement with Zhao Ga Dae Sang Hui.

Tian Guai looked at the Evil Emperor, standing silently, maintaining his composure.

“Master. That person is not just a martial artist or a cunning merchant. He is someone who embraces the world in his hands and tames it slowly. If you’ve observed the fall of Black Heaven Lotus, you would understand what I’m saying.”

The reason Black Heaven Lotus fell was complex, but the most significant mistake they made was becoming subjugated to Zhao Ga Dae Sang Hui’s advanced culture and technology.

Before Black Heaven Lotus could fully understand the true nature of Xiao Sword God, they made the reckless mistake of invading. This was because Zhao Ga Dae Sang Hui had suddenly stopped their trade.

Before the might of Xiao Sword God could even be discussed, Black Heaven Lotus was already collapsing from within, having been captivated by the culture of Zhao Ga Dae Sang Hui.

“What makes that person dangerous is not his martial arts, but the power contained in the goods he possesses. If we fail to handle this wisely, the martial world will end up dancing to his tune.”

At that moment, Zhao Hui turned around and burst into laughter.

“Hahahaha!”

For some reason, Xiao Sword God was laughing heartily, and his laughter echoed like that of a victorious madman. This deeply disturbed Tian Guai and the Evil Emperor.

“Why are you laughing?”

How could he laugh like that when the threat of death and life hung so closely in the air?

As the Evil Emperor’s killing intent thickened, Zhao Hui, still grinning mischievously, tilted his head slightly.

“No, it’s just that the idea of Zhao Ga Dae Sang Hui’s culture being reduced to mere merchandise seems ridiculous.”

“Culture?”

Zhao Hui glanced around at the many subordinates lined up around him, observing them one by one.

“Is there anyone here who doesn’t enjoy Black Qing Water (Heukcheongsu) or Cold Ice Wine (Hanbyeongju)?”

“What, what did you say?”