CLS-Chapter 164

Chapter 164

Luoyang was a city long renowned as the capital of countless dynasties. Yet, having been repeatedly burned and rebuilt, little remained of its ancient imperial grandeur.

As time passed and the nation’s center shifted to Beijing, it became regarded merely as a city clinging to its former glory.

Nevertheless, modern Luoyang had reclaimed some prestige—thanks to the Supreme Heavenly Righteous Alliance, the Martial World’s largest coalition, establishing its headquarters there.

Past alliances of self-proclaimed “righteous” factions existed, but unlike those hollow shells, the Alliance possessed genuine power, making it history’s strongest orthodox coalition.

Naturally, the Alliance’s influence grew daily, transforming Luoyang—now just a shadow of its past—into a modern marvel.

The Alliance’s main gate perpetually teemed with visitors: those on official business and others dreaming of glimpsing its splendor.

Now, a bizarre spectacle unfolded before that very gate.

“……What’s that?”

Jong Cheon-su, a produce supplier for the Alliance, tilted his head at the enormous tent erected in the plaza.

One might expect shops targeting visitors to crowd the gate, but the Alliance had purchased all surrounding land to create a broad boulevard, deeming commercial clutter “beneath the coalition’s dignity.” The result was a stark, almost desolate square.

Though initially criticized as wasteful, the move was later acknowledged as necessary as visitor numbers swelled.

But now…

A massive tent stood in the plaza’s center.

‘The Alliance would never allow this…’

Countless had tried street vending here before. All were swiftly expelled by the Alliance’s Wi-sa guards.

Jong Cheon-su glanced at the gate, expecting the same outcome. Strangely, the Wi-sa watched the tent’s assembly without intervening.

“Huh?”

Sensing something amiss, Jong Cheon-su turned back just as a banner unfurled before the tent:

(For Sale: The Peerless Sword Emperor’s Treasure)

“Th-that!”

How dare they spout such madness!

Certain the Wi-sa would demolish the tent, Jong Cheon-su looked at them eagerly.

Yet the guards remained stoic, making no move to stop it.

“……What is happening?”

As he stared, a second banner rose:

(Authenticity Guaranteed by the Supreme Heavenly Righteous Alliance)

Jong Cheon-su’s jaw dropped.

Despite the outrageous claim, the Wi-sa merely chatted among themselves, utterly indifferent.

“W-wait.”

Could it be true?

No madman would dare scam here using the Alliance’s name without permission. And the guards wouldn’t tolerate it unless authorized.

“So…?”

Is it real?

Is the Sword Emperor’s Treasure inside?

Dazed, Jong Cheon-su set down his cart handles.

Clatter!

The cart tipped over, but he ignored it, stumbling toward the tent.

Before he reached it, he noticed a smaller tent beside it:

(Silver River Battlefield: Luoyang Branch Office)

“……And this?”

A rat-faced man who reeked of greed chuckled as he set it up.

“The God of Wealth descends! Fortune smiles upon us!”

Uneasy, Jong Cheon-su quickly looked away. Inside the main tent, he saw:

A massive bed stood center-stage (Why?), while writing desks with paper, ink, and mats were spaced evenly below.

“What is this for?”

His question was answered instantly.

One of the mat-layers spotted Jong Cheon-su peering in and approached with a salesman’s smile.

“Welcome, honored customer!”

“…….”

Bewildered but curious, Jong Cheon-su asked,

“What is this place?”

“Didn’t you see the banner? We offer transcriptions of the Sword Emperor’s Treasure—the legacy of history’s greatest swordsman!”

“I-is it real?”

“We can’t fully guarantee its authenticity. But it is the manual excavated from the Sword Emperor’s Secret Cave discovered at Na Mountain.”

“R-really?”

As the man spoke, a crowd gathered behind Jong Cheon-su.

“Aren’t you from Silver River Battlefield?” someone asked, noting the “Silver”  character on his robe.

The man grinned.

“Correct! The manual’s owner is our client. We’re here to assist.”

(Their real motive: more loans for buyers.)

“But why the writing desks and mats?”

“Could you afford the manual outright?”

“…….”

Jong Cheon-su fell silent.

If genuine, its price was unimaginable—thousands of gold nyang, perhaps even ten thousand.

“The owner dislikes the idea of one rich hoarder monopolizing it. He’s a true gentleman who believes treasures should be shared!”

Oooh!

History’s laziest slacker was now a paragon of virtue.

“So instead of selling it to one bidder, he’s allowing transcriptions for a modest fee.”

“H-how much?”

The man smiled slyly.

“A mere three gold nyang.”

The crowd gasped. Three gold nyang was life-changing wealth for commoners—yet here it bought only a copy.

“I know it sounds steep. But consider this: someone offered ten thousand nyang for the original.”

“T-ten thousand?!”

A sum beyond comprehension.

“Three nyang is significant. But getting a ten-thousand-nyang treasure for three? That’s an astronomical value!”

Nods spread through the crowd. The math was undeniable.

“Think it over. We won’t pressure you—this item sells itself. However… for those lacking funds but desperate for this chance…”

He gestured to Hwang Choong, who’d finished setting up loan counters under the smaller tent, smiling benignly.

“…We offer loans under exceptional terms. Those ready to transcribe, step inside!”

The crowd hesitated. Humans instinctively distrust deals that seem too good. And three gold nyang was more than a decade’s savings for most.

No one dared to go first.

Then—commotion erupted at the back.

“Out of the way!”

“Move! We have business inside!”

The crowd turned. A group of imposing figures pushed toward the tent.

‘A scam!’

Jong Cheon-su’s gut screamed.

Of course! This is—

Before he could finish the thought, the lead man barked at the salesman:

“You said it wouldn’t take this long!”

“Apologies. Preparations took—”

“Enough! Just give us the manual! Those who copied it first are already training! Every moment counts! We paid good money—you can’t make us wait two days!”

“Step inside, please!”

The rough-looking men shoved past, grumbling. They received booklets from clerks, pulled out their own copies, and began transcribing at the mats.

“No desks or chairs?!”

“We’ll look into it!”

“Ugh! I need to finish quickly!”

As these men worked, the crowd’s skepticism vanished. Whispers reached Jong Cheon-su:

“Th-that man… isn’t he Yang Gyeon of Shanxi Formless Fist?”

“And Shim Woo, the Divine Skill Awl!”

“It’s REAL!”

Seeing renowned martial artists transcribing, the crowd’s eyes gleamed with greed.

“H-how much?!”

“Three nyang.”

(The price had quietly risen by one.)

Chaos erupted. This might be their only chance to own the Sword Emperor’s Treasure for pennies.

“I have three nyang now! Where do I pay?!”

“Loans?! Where?!”

“Stop pushing!”

“Take my money!”

The crowd surged into the tent. Onlookers, drawn by the frenzy, followed.

From the Alliance’s wall, Wei Yan-ho whistled.

“This is only the beginning.”

The Sword Emperor’s Treasure sales office—Wei Yan-ho’s path to absurd wealth—had opened for business.