The Martial Alliance Inspector
Geukhwan was the sort of man whose expression rarely changed. His face was white as paper, and both his eyes and his voice were always cold and composed.
Even so, he frowned. He must have been seriously rattled.
"...A fake inspector?"
All I had put forward as evidence was a single stitched seam on the clothing, sewn by thread and needle.
Geukhwan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me.
"That seems like a strained conjecture."
"You know this inspector personally?"
"No. This is our first meeting."
"Then how can you tell whether he’s real or just some impostor?"
Geukhwan’s answer was crisp.
"He’s wearing a Martial Alliance officer’s uniform that can’t be obtained just anywhere, and he has the inspector’s identity plate and seal. The garments worn by the Martial Alliance members accompanying him, and the swords they carry, are genuine as well."
"He could have killed them and taken everything."
"Inspectors come from martial families and sects too. They aren’t so easy to handle. His guards are also carefully selected fighters from minor and mid-sized factions. Besides, he seemed to know the internal affairs of the Martial Alliance in considerable detail. I asked him about a number of things, and he answered without hesitation."
"Is there no one else who might recognize the inspector’s face?"
Geukhwan studied my expression in silence for a moment before speaking.
"Do you know how many inspectors the Martial Alliance has?"
"Ten or so, I’d imagine?"
"As of last year, there were nineteen."
"...That many?"
"An inspector is a middle-ranking post in the Inspection Division. They’re under the management of the chief inspector, who heads the department..."
The important posts in the Martial Alliance, such as Alliance Lord, protectors, elders, and the captains of the main assault units, were all monopolized by the Nine Great Sects and the Five Great Clans.
It was only natural that the minor sects and factions were choked full of resentment. To appease them, the Martial Alliance’s upper echelon handed out all sorts of impressive-sounding titles that carried no real power.
The inspector’s post was one of those.
The word inspector made it sound as though the office held all-powerful authority, but in truth the job amounted to investigating incidents and submitting reports.
They had no authority to dig higher up the chain, and no power to mete out punishment.
"Not only I, but even Lord Ru and the other branch chiefs of the Haomu Sect cannot say we know every inspector by face. Quite a number of them are desk officials and rarely leave the Martial Alliance."
"Couldn’t you send a face sketch to the Martial Alliance and have them identify him?"
I wanted to pin down the truth before getting further entangled, but Geukhwan shook his head.
"The Martial Alliance does not casually verify face sketches. Since they’re all from renowned orthodox sects, many of them secretly look down on the Haomu Sect as beneath their station. Some even have a habit of saying, ‘How dare a thing like the Haomu Sect presume?’ They’re not openly hostile, but they’re not friendly either. If we were to question the identity of an officer without clear proof, it would only make matters worse. The chance is slim, but..."
Geukhwan fell into thought, then continued carefully.
"Even if that inspector really is a fake, as Master Jeong suggests, it would not be advantageous to notify the Martial Alliance. If an inspector had been taken by a murderer and his identity stolen, that would damage both the Martial Alliance’s reputation and the Alliance Lord’s prestige. To preserve face, they would deny it to the end and shift the blame onto our branch. I’ll report this to Lord Ru, so please wait. There will surely be an appropriate response."
I didn’t know the Martial Alliance all that well, but for a bunch of high-and-mighty bastards, it sounded entirely plausible.
By then, I could no longer doubt the inspector.
The longer we talked, the more Geukhwan’s words sounded reasonable, grounded, and common-sense.
By contrast, even I could see my reaction had been an overblown one with too little to stand on.
Maybe it was because the uniforms of the dead martial artists at the Bang fabric shop had left such a strong impression on me that I’d jumped at the stitched seam on the inspector’s clothes.
I had no excuse for that.
The middle-aged man wearing the inspector’s clothing was named Pyo Holduk.
He said he had chased an opium dealer all the way from Gansu to Seochon.
"...Most of the opium circulating in the Central Plains is made in the Western Regions and brought in through Tianshan, Xinjiang, and Qinghai. I picked up intelligence in Gansu and pursued them together with the Kongdong Sect, but we lost them. I asked around everywhere, and when I heard an opium dealer had appeared in Seochon, I rushed here..."
No one asked why the Martial Alliance, a federation of orthodox martial sects, was somehow involved in the opium crackdown that should have been handled by the authorities.
Despite the unwritten rule that the world of martial arts and the government should not intrude on each other, the Martial Alliance and the state were closely entwined in practice.
Even the Nine Great Sects and the Five Great Clans actively pushed their disciples and children into government and military posts.
Outstanding younger disciples of the Wudang Sect were sometimes invited to serve as martial instructors for imperial relatives, and secular disciples from the old sects were often recommended for positions in martial academies.
The black-path men didn’t call righteous martial artists the government’s dogs for nothing.
There was no shame in it at all. On the contrary, everyone seemed proud of high office and glittering connections just as much as they were of peerless martial skills.
Everyone in the Central Plains except the emperor was just a lackey working for someone else. If you were going to live as a lackey anyway, it was better to do it for a rich household.
Was the opium dealer the inspector was pursuing that middle-aged martial artist I had seen at the Vagabond Inn? The one who sold opium to the woodcutter?
There was no point saying anything unnecessary and inviting trouble, so I kept my mouth shut and listened.
After talking long enough to satisfy himself, Pyo Holduk finally started spouting the sort of nonsense wandering martial artists hated hearing most.
"Since you know Seochon well, I ask that you cooperate for the greater good."
There would be no payment. He didn’t even ask for my opinion. It was one of those, This is the Martial Alliance’s business, so naturally you should help, kind of attitudes.
He seemed not to imagine that a guest of the Haomu Sect would dare refuse.
Apparently the inspector wasn’t even a particularly high-ranking post, but the brains inside these people were no different from the ones above them.
So this was why Won Seo-gang and the other guests had run off.
I was thinking I should read the room and back away when a spark went off in my head.
"I’ve heard there’s a black-path gang in Seochon called the Black Night Gang. An opium dealer would surely try to unload his stock somewhere. I think it might be worth checking the Black Night Gang first..."
At that point, whether the suspicious martial artist in front of me was truly a Martial Alliance inspector no longer mattered.
No matter how much the Black Night Gang ruled Seochon, opposing a Martial Alliance inspector would still be a heavy burden.
That was enough.
If I wanted to get the information I needed out of the Black Night Gang, the only question was how to use this situation.
By then, that was all I could think about.
*
The next afternoon, I was eating at Poongcheon Inn when a swarm of men with swords on their hips came storming in.
At a glance, they were the sort of shabby black-path trash who looked as though they’d never once in their lives walked the right road after learning to stand on two feet.
Regrettably, it seemed they had business with me.
They came striding over with their eyes rolling like feral dogs.
"Stop there."
While scooping broth with my spoon, I reached for the broadsword I had propped beside me.
"Come any closer and I’ll cut you."
In the martial world, drawing a weapon against someone who intrudes into your range without even introducing himself is called self-defense.
The man in front flinched. Then he glared back, irritated that he had clearly been frightened into stopping.
"Bring him out."
Through the black-path thugs, the young woodcutter who had sold me firewood was dragged forward. His wrists were tied with rope, and one side of his face was badly swollen from several blows.
"That’s him, isn’t it?"
The woodcutter looked at me and only bit his lip. He didn’t nod or answer. A thug raised his hand.
"What, this bastard not beaten enough yet? Is it him or not?"
The sight of those rotten bastards barking and posturing made my appetite die on the spot. I set down my chopsticks and straightened my back.
"If you’re looking for the man who bought firewood from that fellow before, that would be me."
The thug twisted his mouth into a sly sneer.
"Is that so? Then you’ll have to come with us. Someone up top wants to see you."
"The Black Night Gang?"
"Your eyes ain’t useless after all."
What a fool, throwing his weight around on the strength of a backer. Looking at his greasy grin made me want to split his skull open.
If I fought these men here, what would happen?
The one leading them looked like he’d killed people before, but even so, he was a hopeless idiot. The men behind him were about the same level of small fry.
I could probably take them without much trouble, but I had no intention of doing so.
I had been in enough inns across the Central Plains to know what happened when trouble broke out or someone tried to ambush you and you ended up hacking away halfway through a meal.
I had even killed my way through whole groups, wiped blood off my face in a hurry, and then stuffed the rest of my food into my mouth afterward.
Any filthy, disgusting act could be made numb if it became part of the business of staying alive.
But I had never once drawn my sword at Poongcheon Inn.
Even when I knocked down Jang Ho-dal on my first day back in town after he came at me looking for trouble, I hadn’t drawn my sword. I had struck him in the solar plexus with the end of the scabbard and subdued him that way.
It was because I had not wanted to see blood the moment I returned home.
That feeling still hadn’t changed. If it were anywhere else, maybe, but in this inn I wanted things kept quiet.
Gu-sam knew it. So did the cook and the innkeeper. They knew I was a martial artist, but they had never seen me kill anyone with their own eyes.
That was why we had become so close. If blood was spilled here, I would never be able to come to this inn again.
All three of them would find it harder to meet my eyes, let alone come forward. Just like the time I wiped out the bandits in the mountain-fire settlement.
I didn’t want to lose this precious place, where I could eat at my leisure and talk about ordinary things with ordinary people.
If I was going to protect this place, then even if I had to use my sword, I’d have to do it outside, somewhere far away.
"Who in the Black Night Gang is looking for me?"
"You’ll know when you get there. A very important person."
"Jeok Chu-yeong?"
The thug glared at me, putting killing intent into his shabby face.
"You think the gang leader’s your friend? Keep that name in your mouth too casually and soon enough your jaw’ll be ripped clean off."
"Then one of the men directly under him?"
The three close retainers who had followed Jeok Chu-yeong from Hunan. If it was those bastards, they might know what had happened seven years ago when Seochon’s residents were loaded into wagons and taken away.
The thug laughed, mocking me.
"If you’re that curious, come with us. It won’t do you any favors to keep those gentlemen waiting."
I had been planning to visit the Black Night Gang anyway, so this worked out nicely.
Whether I was bargaining or cutting with a sword, I would have to meet them sooner or later. It wasn’t every day I got a chance to see the faces of the men at the top.
But if I went there dragged along like this, things that should be done would stop getting done. I had to seize control and steer the situation myself.
To do that, I needed something that would catch them off guard. Something tempting enough to make the gang leader’s rear end twitch and force him to come out in person...
What could it be?
I looked around the inn while thinking hard. Then I caught sight of Gu-sam peering out from the kitchen through a crack in the door.
More than anyone, Gu-sam was quick with rumors, but even he hadn’t heard that a Martial Alliance inspector had come to Seochon.
Would the Black Night Gang know? Judging by the way these bastards behaved, probably not. If I mentioned the Martial Alliance, they’d likely panic.
"Gu-sam, bring me some paper and a brush."
"Yes, sir!"
Gu-sam hurried to the cash counter and came back carrying a thick ledger, a brush, and a bamboo tube of ink.
"Can I even use this in the account book?"
"It’s the only paper they have."
I tore out the last page of the ledger and spread it on the table, then dipped the brush in ink and wrote down only the essentials.
I tore off another sheet. Folding it in half and sealing it with grains of rice, I made an envelope. Then I slipped the note inside and sealed it shut.
"Take this to the gang leader, or to the three men directly under him. If anyone else sees it, I won’t answer."
When I held out the letter, the thug shot me a hard glare.
"Quit playing tricks and get up. You think we came all this way to receive some scrap of paper? You want to get beaten to a pulp and dragged off like a sack of mud?"
"Try it if you can."
As I gripped the broadsword and stared back, the thug bristled and seized the hilt of his own saber. The other thugs did the same on reflex.
The mood turned vicious in an instant. It looked as though blades would fly at once, blood would spray, and screaming and curses would erupt everywhere.
But after looking more closely at those shabby faces, I didn’t think that would happen.
Despite their brutish expressions, the black-path men’s bodies were all tense as wire.
They absolutely could not draw their swords. No, they didn’t want to draw them. Not really. Not one of them did.
I tossed the letter and let go of my broadsword. Then I picked up my chopsticks and calmly resumed eating.
The thug let out a deflated sigh and bent down to pick up the letter.
"...What did you write?"
"It’s better if you don’t know. Hurry up and deliver it. If the delay gets noticed, you’ll get beaten for it. Don’t tear it open on the way either. The people above won’t like that."
The thugs retreated with the woodcutter in tow.
Since I had to wait for an answer, I finished my meal and stayed in the inn, drinking tea.
As the sun sank and the evening glow spread, dinner customers began to arrive.
They were all ordinary people without weapons.
Seeing me, they jerked back in alarm and sat as far away as they could manage.
It looked like I might hurt business, so I stepped outside.
Leaning against the wall, I quietly looked up at the sky as it bled red and went dark.
One of the black-path men from earlier came wandering over. He stopped well beyond the range of my broadsword. His tone became respectful by exactly that much.
"The captain says he’ll meet you."
"Why the captain, and not the gang leader?"
"I don’t know."
"It’s the Vagabond Inn, right?"
"That’s right."
As I pushed away from the wall, the thug flinched and stumbled backward.
"Lead the way."
Even while keeping a distance of several dozen steps, the thug kept glancing back at me. He must have been afraid I might cut him down.
I walked with the sunset at my back. I stepped forward over the shadows of my own past stretched out ahead of me.
I remembered playing shadow-stepping games with the neighborhood kids when I was young.
The rules were simple. Whoever stepped on another person’s shadow first won. No matter how many times you stepped on a shadow, it never showed any mark.
And if someone claimed you missed, that was that; even if you ran around all day, it was hard to decide the winner.
There had been so many shadows in this town back then. Now, standing on the same homeland as before, there was only my own shadow, grown absurdly long.
Where had everyone gone...
The sunset scattered, and the shadows sank into dusk and vanished. One by one, the lights came on and illuminated the dark.
Once I left the bustling district behind, the Vagabond Inn came into view in the distance. I headed there.