Chronicles of the Northern Heavens Chapter 5 - The Emissaries of the White Night Cartel
The war, ignited by the invasion of the Northwest Murim, had begun with ancient grudges and dragged on for four blood-soaked years now. Northern Legion Commander Yun Hoe took a quiet breath, recalling the brutal three years of conflict behind them.
"Hoo..."
Clink. A splash from the teacup he set down stained the papers on the desk. Jang Pae wiped it away with his sleeve.
Scrape, scrape.
"Why the sigh, sir?"
"Did it sound like one?"
"Wasn't it?"
"Just clearing a tightness in my chest. Anyway, what of the scouting?"
"Well, about that. We went all the way north, but..."
Jang Pae explained the events at the border region. When he reached the part about the mysterious youth, Yun Hoe's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Such a thing happened?"
"Yes. His words rang true, so we set up a outpost there and stationed a few men."
"We have no great archers among our ranks... So who the hell is this guy?"
"Could be a recent recruit. I'll look into it. By the way, what do the emissaries from the White Night Cartel say?"
"The Great Earth Sovereign desires a truce."
"Not peace, but a truce?"
"Yes. They've set a term of one year... I told them I'd consult the higher-ups first."
Jang Pae's face twisted.
"What makes their damn sixtieth birthday so special..."
"Hey, watch your mouth."
"How can I not get pissed? They've sat idle this whole time, and now they order a truce for some birthday."
"It's a gift for us, outnumbered as we are. Count our blessings."
"True, but... still pisses me off. We're not pawns on a chessboard."
As Jang Pae's face flushed red, Yun Hoe smiled faintly and lifted his teacup.
Clink.
"Heard the news?"
"What news?"
"The Second Young Master is back. He's heading here now—should arrive by tomorrow at latest..."
Yun Hoe trailed off.
"Aren't you glad he's returned, Commander?"
"Of course I am, but thinking of the power struggles ahead... If the Young Master has no desire for the throne or Jang Gajoo abandons his ambitions, no issue. But if not..."
Yun Hoe's expression hardened gravely.
Jang Pae spoke firmly.
"The Second Young Master is the rightful heir. Naturally, Jang Gajoo must step aside. It's the only way to prevent chaos and division."
"Power's not so easily relinquished. That's the worry."
At that moment—
"Commander, it's me."
"Come in."
A burly man with a face as fierce as Jang Pae's entered the tent—Yun Hoe's son, Yun Gwan. Alongside Jang Pae, he was famed in the Northern Legion as one of the Twin Tigers for his ferocity and valor.
"The Second Young Master has arrived!"
"What?"
As Yun Hoe's eyes widened in shock, Jang Pae shot to his feet.
"Already?"
"He just passed the main gate."
Yeon-hoo slowly surveyed the camp. The vast mountainous terrain was filled with countless tents and wooden stockades, and the weary figures of warriors moving about made it clear this was a battlefield.
"What's the total force now?"
"Around thirty thousand left."
"Meaning it was more before."
"...The initial force that came here was just shy of a hundred thousand."
A faint crease formed between Yeon-hoo's brows. Nearly seventy thousand lost in three years.
Gwak Yang continued.
"It's a miracle Commander Yun took charge late, or this place would've fallen to the enemy by now."
Yeon-hoo thought of Yun Hoe. Alongside Sama Song, he was one who had cherished him deeply.
'He's aged much, no doubt.'
"There he comes."
Yeon-hoo turned to where Gwak Yang pointed. Yun Hoe and two tiger-like burly men were rushing toward them.
Yeon-hoo's gaze shifted slowly from Yun Hoe's face to Jang Pae.
'Still the same.'
Jang Pae was unforgettable too. Five years his senior, yet he'd treated Yeon-hoo, the master's son, like a friend. He'd stayed by his side until the very end when leaving home.
"Is it really you, Young Master?!"
"Long time."
Yeon-hoo looked down at the emotional Yun Hoe, whose eyes brimmed red, and offered a faint smile.
"Jang Pae greets the Young Master!"
"Yun Gwan greets the Young Master!"
Seeing these familiar faces melted some of the resentment knotted in Yeon-hoo's chest.
"Still as dashing as ever, Young Master."
Sniff.
As Jang Pae wiped tears, the surrounding warriors' eyes went wide. To them, Jang Pae was fiercer than a tiger. Seeing him cry was unbelievable.
"It's cold out—come to the tent."
"Thanks."
The reunion was an emotional whirlwind for everyone. But Yeon-hoo remained detached, almost indifferent, to others' surprise.
Amid the chatter, talk turned to the White Night Cartel emissaries.
For the first time, Yeon-hoo's eyes sharpened.
"The Great Earth Sovereign sent word for a truce?"
"Yes. I said we'd consult the higher-ups, but given the war situation, we should accept. Though I hear the Northwest Murim strongly opposes it."
"They think they can devour us."
"...Yes."
Yeon-hoo already grasped the rough state of affairs—including the slim odds of Northern Murim victory.
'To solidify my position as lord of Northern Murim, I need time. Then this war... I must make the truce happen.'
With resolve set, Yeon-hoo took a sip of tea and continued.
"I'll meet the emissaries."
"Don't. They won't acknowledge you. No need to suffer their arrogance."
"The Commander's right. The higher-ups will accept the truce anyway—best to wait."
"I agree."
All echoed Yun Hoe's sentiment. Yeon-hoo read their sincerity.
'This place... is different.'
The atmosphere starkly contrasted the clan's entry hall. He was glad he'd come. Yet it pained him that his father's loyalists had been pushed to the front lines.
"For the clan and Northern Murim, what's a little insult?"
Yeon-hoo placed a one-cheok-long sword before Yun Hoe.
Clank.
It was an ornate sword encrusted with jewels. Yun Hoe, Jang Pae, and the others gasped in unison.
This was the Iron Blood Clan's sacred relic, symbol of the master's authority.
"With this, even they'll have to acknowledge me, right?"
"Of course, but how did you...?"
Yun Hoe couldn't continue, stunned. After the master's death, Elder Council Leader Song Gyeom had kept it. A staunch Jang Cheon supporter, he'd never yield it lightly.
"Did the Leader hand it over willingly?"
"I met him on the way here. Details later—first, the emissaries."
"You sure?"
Yeon-hoo nodded silently.
Yun Hoe spoke firmly.
"Understood. Do as you wish."
Then—
Dong! Dong! Dong!
A frantic bell tolled. A warrior burst into the tent.
"The southwest border is under enemy attack!"
"Enemy numbers?"
"At least tens of thousands!"
Flames lit Yun Hoe's eyes.
"They waited for the master's funeral to end."
As everyone leaped up, Yeon-hoo drained his remaining tea.
"Young Master, the emissaries will have to wait."
"No. Proceed as planned. Order the southwest forces to retreat immediately."
"...Young Master, how can we retreat from invaders?"
"I have a plan. Commander, issue the retreat order at once."
"...!"
Yun Hoe hesitated, as did the others.
Yeon-hoo's gaze turned icy. His hand toyed with the sword on the table.
"Is it a military order you'll follow?"
The chilling aura filled the tent, hardening Yun Hoe's face. No one defied a military command.
Finally, Yun Hoe bowed his head.
"Understood."
A massive tent stood at the camp's center. Warriors in snow-white robes stood vigilant guard, from which boisterous talk and thick wine scent emanated.
The emissaries' tent.
Yeon-hoo headed there with Yun Hoe.
"Halt!"
The white-robed men blocked them. Yun Hoe stepped forward.
"Here to see the emissaries. Announce us."
"Wait."
One entered the tent. Moments later, he emerged with another—a middle-aged man with a goatee and sharp eyes.
He eyed Yeon-hoo and Yun Hoe arrogantly, alternating glances.
"Who's this youth?"
"The master's rightful heir. Show respect."
"Didn't the Iron Blood Clan's heir die years ago? And now an heir?"
"The Second Young Master, who was away from the clan briefly."
The man stared Yeon-hoo down—insolent, but Yeon-hoo ignored it.
Then—
"Bring him."
Cough. "Enter."
Yeon-hoo passed the openly displeased man and entered.
[Commander, wait outside.]
"...!"
Leaving the flustered Yun Hoe behind, Yeon-hoo entered alone.
Yun Hoe grew anxious. The emissaries here were all sly, seasoned foxes.
'Not easy opponents...'
Yeon-hoo suffering insult was bad enough, but falling for their tricks could spell disaster. Several of the Eight Great Families had suffered greatly from such schemes before.
'Should've gone in with him...'
Regretting his stubbornness, Yun Hoe strained to listen. But somehow, no voices came through.
Time dragged on—eternity to Yun Hoe.
How much later? The tent flap parted, and Yeon-hoo emerged, calmer than expected. Yun Hoe sighed in relief, then stared at the emissaries following him.
His eyes bulged round.
'What the hell happened? Why are they...'