The Grand Magus In Murim

Chapter 15: The Predator's Grin

The heavy oak doors of the Zhao family study did not merely open, they seemed to groan under the weight of the men who entered. Patriarch Zhao sat behind his desk, his hands clasped tightly together, his knuckles white with anticipation. He had spent the last several hours pacing, his mind consumed by thoughts of the Ling caravan. When the door finally swung wide, three figures stepped into the dim light. They were clad in the tattered, dust-covered garments of forest scavengers, yet their movements possessed a sharp, disciplined edge that no mere beggar could mimic.

One of the men stepped forward, bowing low. His face was hidden beneath a grime-streaked cloth, but his eyes were bright with a savage sort of satisfaction. Behind him, two others dragged three iron-bound chests into the center of the room. They landed on the stone floor with a heavy, metallic thud that resonated throughout the study, a sound far more beautiful to Patriarch Zhao than any music.

"Speak," Zhao commanded, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed excitement. "Did you finish the work?"

"It is done, Patriarch," the man replied, his voice raspy. "The Ling caravan is no more. We caught them at the base of the Black Iron Mountain. Most of them fell within the first few moments. The rest fled into the darkness like cowards. We did not leave a single carriage standing. As for the goods, we have recovered the coin and the gold they carried for the trade exchange."

Zhao surged to his feet, ignoring the dignity usually expected of his station. He rushed around the desk and kicked the latch of the nearest chest. It popped open to reveal a shimmering hoard of gold taels, stacked neatly and gleaming in the lamplight. He let out a breathless laugh, a sound of pure, unadulterated greed.

"Excellent," Zhao whispered, looking up at the man. "You have done the Zhao family a great service. But tell me, were there any complications? My previous inquiries suggested the Ling family was moving with more confidence than a simple merchant house should possess."

The bandit leader shook his head. "None. We watched them for hours. They were ordinary guards, mostly workers hired for the road. They had no idea we were coming until the blades were already at their throats. However, I have left one of our brothers behind as a scout. He possesses an exceptional lightness technique, the finest in our unit. He is currently maintaining a distance, watching the site. If the Ling family sends reinforcements or if that young master decides to play the hero, we will know immediately. He can vanish into the shadows faster than a startled deer."

Patriarch Zhao nodded, satisfied. He gestured to the door, and a servant hurried in to usher the bandits out, their work here finished.

It was only then that Elder Han, who had been sitting silently in the corner of the room, stirred. The old martial artist stood, his movements fluid and unnervingly quiet for a man of his years. He walked toward the chests of gold, looking down at them with mild indifference. He did not care for silver or gold, only for the power that such resources could buy.

"You seem relieved, Zhao," Elder Han said, his voice like gravel grinding together. "Do you truly think a few chests of gold will solve your problems?"

Zhao looked at the Elder, his expression turning serious. "With the gold gone, they have nothing to trade. And if they cannot trade, their reputation will crumble. But Elder, there is still the matter of the incident at the Ling manor. Master Ma is convinced there is a hidden expert protecting the Ling family. He claims his qi was shattered by an unseen force. If that is true, then even after this raid, we might be inviting the wrath of someone we cannot hope to defeat."

Elder Han let out a short, sharp laugh that sounded more like a bark. He paced the room, his eyes scanning the walls as if searching for a hidden enemy.

"Master Ma is a mediocre talent," Elder Han scoffed. "He was likely intimidated by his own failure and concocted a story of a hidden master to cover his cowardice. Think for a moment, Zhao. If the Ling family truly had a protector capable of suppressing a martial artist of his level, why would they allow their caravan to be slaughtered tonight? Why would they let their guards die and their goods be stolen? A true expert would have obliterated my men the moment they stepped out of the woods. This proves that there is no guardian."

Patriarch Zhao paused, the logic settling into his mind. It made sense. If the Ling family had a powerful ally, they would not be sitting in their manor licking their wounds while their wealth was carried away.

"You think it was just a coincidence?" Zhao asked.

"I think Master Ma encountered a transient expert, perhaps a passing traveler who took offense at his arrogance," Elder Han replied, his eyes narrowing. "It was likely a random act of charity, not a sign of a deeper alliance. The Ling family is nothing but a collection of merchants and weaklings. They are ripe for the picking. They have no defenses, no secret weapons, and certainly no powerful friends."

Elder Han walked to the window, staring out toward the direction of the Ling Manor.

"We will let them wallow in their grief for now," the Elder continued. "When the scout reports back that they are desperate, we will move to the final phase. We will pressure the governor to revoke their merchant license under the guise of poor security. We will ensure that no trader in the city dares to do business with them. By the time I am finished, the name Ling will be synonymous with ruin. There is no hidden expert, Zhao. There is only the natural order of the world, and in this world, the strong feast upon the weak."

Patriarch Zhao bowed his head, a cruel smile spreading across his face. The Ling family was finished. He could almost taste the victory already. He clapped his hands, calling for wine to celebrate, while Elder Han returned to the shadows, his mind already calculating the total destruction of their rivals.