TSBIRBV Ch 153

Chapter 153 Even if You Deceive Heaven, Deceive an Esper (6)

Even before the first compensation period began, rumors had spread through Sichuan’s markets that Qinghai Trading had sold seals and scammed its customers.

Some unknown party had laid the board and was moving to achieve their goal.

Yegyeol’s nature was far too spiteful to let anyone who dared touch him enjoy the fruits of their scheme.

By drawing in the Black Ghost, he fanned the rumors, ensuring they sprouted wings and spread not only through Chengdu but across all of Sichuan.

Once a spark had caught, stoking the fire was easy.

Yegyeol declared that Qinghai Trading would honor its promise: if a rosewood seal came with its certificate, they would offer compensation.

Meanwhile, the Black Ghost circulated whispers through Black Spot’s information network, hinting that one could make a fortune by dipping into Qinghai Trading’s rosewood certificate scam.

More than that—he said he’d had a brilliant idea after hearing Yegyeol’s request, and then released “authentic” counterfeits into the back alleys himself.

The two men’s moves meshed like interlocking gears, bringing them to this point.

Just a little fanning of the flames, and the blaze swelled, luring moths from near and far. Not only all of Sichuan, but swindlers from neighboring regions flocked to Chengdu.

Honestly. These swindlers these days—they want to earn money far too easily. Back in my day, we would’ve gone so far as to dye the wood through to the core before selling it.

Yegyeol clicked his tongue.

The devotion of con men toward a ready mark was truly fervent.

Those without the skill to forge themselves scurried through the back alleys to hire craftsmen. And most back-alley trades in Sichuan either began with or flowed into Black Spot. So the Black Ghost handed Yegyeol a cut of the money made from pawning off those wares.

Thanks to that, Yegyeol had lined his back pocket with yet another fortune.

At this rate, he mused, he’d end up not the greatest of the Three Great Trading Groups of the open world, but the number one Trading Group of the underworld.

He’s a better partner than I thought.

To Yegyeol, his Senior Brother’s business acumen was remarkable. Just from how swiftly the rumor had spread, one could sense he commanded not just one or two tongues.

And those counterfeit rosewood certificates, churned out as if waiting to be printed—what of those?

Once again, he realized this man had not risen to master the greatest trading group in Qinghai for nothing.

All this time, Yegyeol had doubted his Senior Brother’s real profession—but watching him handle this affair, he nearly believed the man had truly changed careers into a merchant.

Yegyeol watched as Officer Do rounded up swindlers “for investigation.” The Black Ghost’s subordinates, disguised in the clothes of the Trading Group’s guards, had formed a cordon, so not a single one escaped.

“Have you achieved what you wanted?”

When Yegyeol returned indoors, a man stood in the shadows and asked. Yegyeol stared at his face, dazed, before snapping out of it and nodding.

“Yes. We accomplished more than expected. Now the blame has shifted from Qinghai Trading onto the swindlers.”

He had deftly shifted the focus.

Whoever the opponent was, the rosewood certificates that had circulated through Sichuan’s underworld had originally been genuine.

But with swindlers multiplying and counterfeit certificates vastly outnumbering the genuine, the originals were all buried.

And they will stay buried.

While the unseen opponent flailed, overwhelmed by the situation that had grown beyond control, Yegyeol intended to track them down.

Thanks to the swindlers leaving their names registered with Qinghai Trading, Haryang was able to sift through the list and identify those who had hired forgers outside Black Spot’s channels.

Within a few days, their movements would be compiled into reports.

By tracing the forger who had actually participated in this scheme, Yegyeol would learn the true enemy of Qinghai Trading.

“When we first set this up, I doubted—but it’s surprisingly effective.”

The Black Ghost sounded impressed. Yegyeol stifled the swell of pride.

“I almost feel ashamed for opposing the idea of involving the constables.”

At Haryang’s words, Yegyeol replied,

“Qinghai Trading pays enormous taxes to the state. Of course we should make full use of the officials who live on the state’s stipend.”

People of the Central Plains, still bound by remnants of the old class system, seldom thought to involve government authorities—they were intimidating figures. And men like Haryang, raised as martial artists, were especially reluctant to break the taboo of ‘no interference with officials.’

But to Yegyeol, who had been born and raised in twenty-first-century Korea, the idea was hardly difficult.

“What if the constable yields to the persuasion of Qinghai’s rivals?”

Yegyeol raised both hands.

“From that point on, it’s no longer my domain.”

His gaze shifted to the Black Ghost. At the sight of Yegyeol’s brazen nonchalance after so long, a trace of amusement flickered over the man’s face, then vanished.

“Above all, I trust the Black Ghost’s recommendation.”

“Good. Trust is essential between business partners. But…”

The man leaned close, his solid arms closing around Yegyeol as he whispered.

“Don’t forget—none of this is charity.”

“The friendship between Qinghai Trading and Black Spot will only deepen.”

Though Yegyeol knew that was not the answer the man sought, he deliberately phrased it that way. The smile that curled at the Black Ghost’s lips only deepened.

“Take this as a lesson—next time, it would be wise to learn how to suspect people more.”

“Perhaps I seem feeble in your eyes, Black Ghost. But I am not so easy a man as to let anyone steal away what my Senior Brother has given me.”

Yegyeol grinned and added,

“In truth, there is another reason I let this affair grow so large.”

“What? Crowds are swarming Qinghai Trading?”

“And not just anyone—the wealthy and powerful themselves are flocking there.”

“What’s so great about some trading house that only churns out counterfeits!”

The woman slammed the desk. The handprint denting the solid wood testified she was trained in martial arts.

“It’s because… the rumor has spread so widely that if you bring even a keepsake rosewood certificate, Qinghai Trading will assume full responsibility and compensate you. Normally they don’t refund simply on a change of heart, but since counterfeits have tarnished the value of ‘rosewood seals,’ they’ve taken special measures for their customers. People are praising them as truly trustworthy.”

Her subordinate, trembling lest she slam the desk again—or worse, crush his skull with that very fist—hurried on.

“Moreover, since it was announced the affair was caused by swindlers, Qinghai Trading even gained sympathy.”

The more he reported, the more her head spun.

“And to top it off, they’ve shown their ability to procure and circulate only genuine rosewood. Now, more and more say that if they want fine goods, they’ll go through Qinghai Trading.”

The woman did not know it, but this was precisely the ‘noise marketing’ Yegyeol had aimed for.

Controversy swells quickly, because people themselves spread it.

“In trying to drag them down, we only gave them wings.”

She muttered bitterly, squeezing her eyes shut.

It was over.

“…Very well. I have somewhere to go. Make preparations.”

“Yes.”

How had it come to this?

Changing from silk to roughspun so none would recognize her, the woman bit her lip.

All she had wanted was to save her daughter—Tang Eonbo, deceived by that silver-tongued cousin.

Tang Munyeo had long since withdrawn from the fight for headship of the Tang Clan. She had claimed it was for her brother’s sake, but in truth she lacked the confidence to endure the succession struggle. Determined to sever herself from the clan’s core, she married a man who was not even a martial artist.

Though her husband lacked strength, he had wealth. Tang Munyeo found rest outside the ruthless walls of the Sichuan Tang Clan.

The fruit of that marriage was Tang Eonbo.

Though mischievous, her daughter was clever and talented. At the sight of her, Tang Munyeo sometimes regretted her past choice. Tang Eonbo longed to climb higher, but her mother’s decision had blocked her path.

And so the girl made a foolish choice—joining hands with her cousin Tang Seoak, attempting to earn merit by swallowing up a trading house. But the whole scheme was laid bare to the world.

When their plot was exposed, Tang Seoak fled. And Tang Munyeo’s daughter shouldered all the blame, ending up imprisoned in the Tang Clan’s dungeons.

I will pay the price, Mother.

When Tang Munyeo had forced her way into the dungeons, her daughter had said only that, and closed her eyes.

Tang Munyeo had nearly lost her mind. She had been ready to drag her brother by the hair if need be, to save Tang Eonbo. Yet the true instigator, Tang Seoak, had vanished, life or death unknown, leaving her daughter to bear the punishment alone.

Though it was true her daughter had stained the clan’s honor, the Tang should have protected one of their own. Instead, they had made her the scapegoat.

To Tang Munyeo, it was nothing but sheer injustice.

Her brother Tang Mungil quietly covered his own son’s crimes, yet her daughter had been thrown into the dungeons for a single mistake.

Born and raised as a precious daughter of the Tang Clan, Tang Munyeo now bitterly regretted relinquishing her rights as a direct scion.

If only Tang Seoak were caught—I’d flay him alive. And my brother who turns a deaf ear to my pleas—I’ll pierce his ears with needles myself.

It was then, when Tang Munyeo had begun haunting the Tang Clan’s gates for the first time since her marriage, that a suspicious figure approached.

“Do you not wish to save your daughter?”