Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Rendezvous
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“Hahaha!”
The Yuk Patriarch suddenly burst into hearty laughter. Choe Rim was smiling faintly as well. The other relatives looked baffled, but the two men were exchanging words known only to them.
“Of all places, Fujian. It brings back old memories. Grand Steward, don't we have a fair bit of land tucked away there?”
“It's all faithfully recorded in the fish scale registers.”
“All of it? Even now?”
“Yes. Back when Fujian was booming, you boldly declared it would become the Yuk Clan's treasury. With no orders to dispose of it, I didn't think it was land I could touch on my own.”
The Ming Dynasty's land registry was called the fish scale registers, named for how the plots resembled fish scales.
The Yuk Patriarch smacked his forehead and muttered.
“You're something else yourself. Right, I did see Fujian becoming our clan's vault. Though the sea ban cost us dearly.”
“No one could have foreseen the Founder's decree dragging on this long.”
“Fate works in mysterious ways. Who'd have thought my lingering regrets over that land would be claimed by my grandson.”
The Patriarch's gaze shifted back to him, laced with interest.
“Very well. Stand out, and the branch will be yours.”
“...!”
Done. Yuk Jin-yang cheered inwardly.
“Grand Steward.”
“Yes, Patriarch.”
“Hand over Fujian's lands to Jin-yang forthwith.”
Choe Rim nodded. The relatives all looked stunned. The words contradicted themselves. Transferring the deeds before any merits were earned?
The Patriarch twisted the corner of his mouth.
“Consider it an advance. Funds for establishing and running the branch will come after success.”
Failure was not an option. Yuk Jin-yang replied with a confident expression.
“My thanks.”
I'll claim the rest for certain. The unspoken follow-up echoed in his mind.
After the banquet ended, Grand Steward Choe Rim requested a moment of his time. Something related to the mission, he said.
Yuk Jin-yang followed without protest.
Choe Rim led him to the steward's office building.
The two sat facing each other across a low table in a side chamber. Even the servants attending them were dismissed for a private meeting.
Choe Rim personally poured the tea. Yuk Jin-yang took the cup to his lips, feeling apologetic yet appreciative. The vibrant green tea in the cup evoked summer.
“Excellent tea.”
“Xin Yang Mao Jian. A rare tea grown in the north.”
“I heard the tea gardens of the north and central plains suffered greatly toward the end of the Yuan.”
“A true tragedy. Tea trees were once cultivated north of the Yangtze too. But the Yuan court's greed warped the climate.”
The small talk ended there. Choe Rim set down his cup and spoke plainly.
“The Haenam Sect is overly optimistic about the situation. They dismiss the unorthodox sects' recklessness. They believe with the Yuk Clan's aid, it'll be swiftly quelled.”
“Is that so? Unexpected. With their sect leader bedridden, I figured they'd be on the back foot.”
“It's because the Guangdong Jin Clan's roots are so shallow. Their founder was a mere merchant. He posed as a martial artist with a manual gained by chance encounter, so the family arts he left lack depth.”
“...”
“In contrast, the Haenam Sect is a proper orthodox sect, small though it may be. They naturally see a gap in stature.”
Choe Rim ruthlessly demeaned the Guangdong Jin Clan. A faint contempt for upstart clans with short histories seeped through.
To those of ancient clans or great sects, new clans were like parvenus who struck it rich overnight.
“However, our steward's office assesses that the Haenam Sect has no business being so complacent. Their sect leader suffered a grievous wound from a vicious beast, and there's no designated successor to steady the sect.”
“Vicious beast? Surely not...”
“Not an assassination attempt by outside assassins. They say his qi and blood twisted during meditation.”
A sect leader of his stature wouldn't botch qi circulation. Yuk Jin-yang frowned.
“Betrayed from within, then. With some petty poison, no doubt.”
Even masters don't always meet their end in a deathmatch. The martial world brimmed with bizarre killing arts. Especially poisons that pierced even a warrior's resilience—feared even by peerless experts.
Unless one reached the realm of utter poison immunity, where pure inner energy repelled and incinerated toxins.
That was why sects eternally guarded against traitors.
“As perceptive as ever.”
Choe Rim nodded in satisfaction.
“One of their division leaders leading the martial force has defected. Azure Swallow Division Leader Bae Ji-hak. Known in the world as the Southern Sea Cloud Sword.”
Yuk Jin-yang scowled.
“Bae Ji-hak—the Haenam Sect leader's direct disciple, isn't he?”
“You knew.”
Of course he did. Yuk Jin-yang had even crossed swords with him once. To claim the bounty on his head. A past life matter.
Back then, Bae Ji-hak was no longer with the Haenam Sect.
His moniker was different too. Instead of the elegant Southern Sea Cloud Sword, he was derisively called Drunken Beast Sword. For slaughtering folk in drunken rages, enough to warrant an official arrest warrant.
Now it clicked—another layer to that title. A sect-destroying traitor who poisoned his master fit 'beast' perfectly.
To think his expulsion from Hainan hid such a scandal.
The Haenam Sect would have covered it up out of shame. No story to let outsiders gossip about.
“Not surprising. Plenty betray decency for wealth and glory.”
“...”
“In any case, there's ample justification to curb the Guangdong Jin Clan's moves. An unreliable force seizing a maritime trade hub? A lingering threat. That's why we can't stand by.”
Yuk Jin-yang, who had listened silently, countered.
“Will mediation suffice? Doesn't seem like something the Flying Stream Pavilion's token force can handle.”
“The Patriarch provides the pretext.”
Choe Rim eyed Yuk Jin-yang with an odd look.
“To give you the chance. A mission for great merit justifies even the Flying Stream Pavilion stepping up, no?”
Yuk Jin-yang nodded.
As things stood, chaos would erupt in Guangdong. In other words, a golden opportunity for major feats. If this had been known earlier, his greedy great-uncles wouldn't have yielded.
After a brief ponder, Yuk Jin-yang cut straight to it.
“What exactly do I need to do?”
“Lead the Flying Stream Pavilion warriors to Shantou County in Guangdong Province. That's the rendezvous point.”
“And then?”
“Aid the Haenam Sect, but you're not to be led around by them. The Patriarch has already granted you full authority. Handle the aftermath as you see fit.”
Yuk Jin-yang nodded.
Saaah—!
A boat with fully unfurled sails glided along the canal. Early summer sun beat down on the passenger ship riding the favorable wind.
Yuk Jin-yang shaded his eyes with his hand, gazing at the scenery ahead. Beyond the shimmering haze, land came into view.
Shantou County's port was near.
The route from Zhejiang to Guangdong was treacherous. Official roads linking relay stations were spotty at best, severed by mountains and swamps between them.
Thus, most travel was by sea. Less risk of needless trouble.
Lake pirates roamed freely, but none dared the Ming navy-patrolled seas. Unlike the vast land's perils and bandit hordes relying on lightness skills.
Hot.
Yuk Jin-yang muttered inwardly. Sticky humidity seeped through the muggy air. It was already the fifth lunar month. Southern summers were vicious compared to elsewhere.
The group disembarked. Not a large party.
All eight mid-to-upper rank warriors. Plus two mid-rank with high potential. Ten in total.
A mission involving combat. Dragging a horde would just burden them. Elites were essential.
“Where's the rendezvous?”
So Yun-un asked. A mid-upper rank newly assigned to Flying Stream Pavilion. One Yuk Jin-yang had his eye on for potential.
“Shantou's relay station.”
Yuk Jin-yang answered curtly and took the lead.
Finding the spot in a sleepy village was easy. Amid ramshackle homes stood prominent buildings: the yamen and relay station.
There, they met a group of men and women. All in sky-blue uniforms, long swords slung across their backs for uniformity. Haenam Sect attire.
“Haenam Sect?”
Yuk Jin-yang asked. A man who seemed highest-ranked stepped forward and nodded.
“Deung Gwang of Hainan. And you?”
“Yuk Jin-yang. From the Zhejiang Yuk Clan.”
Deung Gwang's lip curled. His gaze brimmed with thick disappointment.
“...You're young.”
“Hm?”
“I see how the Yuk Clan views us. Sending someone like you as 'support.'”
Deung Gwang didn't hide his displeasure.
“Looks like your first time in the world. If you're here for some leisurely tour, go home. This isn't for a naive young master, and our sect's fate hangs in the balance.”
“Watch your tongue.”
Yuk Jin-yang dropped to informal speech.
“We're here to help you. Manners aside, know your place.”
“Our place? Such insolence!”
Yuk Jin-yang eyed Deung Gwang steadily. Though sharp-edged, it lacked the orthodox sects' lofty air. Desperation peeked through instead. The prickliness of the cornered.
Is Hainan's situation worse than thought?
“You think this paltry force of seven or eight can boast?”
“Insolent!”
At the arrogant attitude, the Flying Stream Pavilion warriors could no longer stay silent. Aghast, they surged with aura en masse. The clashing energies stood like crashing waves.
A powder keg on the verge.
Then—
Shiiik!
A hidden weapon sliced the air out of nowhere. Yuk Jin-yang casually tilted his head to dodge.
Sudden ambush. Both groups hurriedly fell back, shouting.
“What!?”
“Who goes there!”
Yuk Jin-yang glanced back. The struck tree was half-splintered. Potent force aside, the smoke wafting from the impact point caught his eye.
Not an arrow?
Dududu!
Earth-shaking hoofbeats. A band charged from afar, kicking up dust. All gripping reins and bows. The earlier shot was surely mounted archery.
“Form up!”
Deung Gwang yelled urgently. Hainan warriors drew their back-slung longswords in unison. Four-chi double-hand swords, usable as spears gripped two-fisted.
But clash never came. The oncoming riders halted at a distance.
Yuk Jin-yang scrutinized them. Something off about the gang. A standout young noble among them.
His refined upbringing shone through. Fine clothes too. Even through dust, the turquoise silk uniform gleamed.
“All gathered here, I see.”
The noble reined in leisurely, murmuring.
“Word that Hainan's beggars headed east brought me. True enough. Even country bumpkins have their uses.”