Water Knows the Answer
Water knows the answer. The greatest architectural marvel in all of Chinese history. That was Dujiangyan. Built roughly two hundred and fifty years before the common era, this structure had quite literally carved a waterway through a mountain. What tools could they have possessed in those ancient times? They had simply heated the bedrock by pressing furnaces against the cliff face, then shattered it—an utterly primitive method that ultimately carved a new river where none had existed before. The farmland created this way amounted to some twenty-five thousand stadiums by Cheong’s hometown standards. The once damp, sweltering jungles of Sichuan had transformed into a land sweet enough to cradle all under heaven.
Cheong listened to that proud explanation with one ear and let it out the other. Of course her origins mattered. Back home, she was already an expert at manipulating waterways. What was so impressive about merely dividing a stream and stacking a few embankments? Far more remarkable was the cooking of the Heavenly First-Rate Chef. The flavor matched the chef’s conviction—meaning she had eaten an absurd amount. As a result, drowsiness crept over her after the meal. She would have loved nothing more than a quick nap, yet here she was, nodding off while wondering why anyone would make such a fuss over a few invasive fish species.
By the time they arrived at Dujiangyan, it was nothing more than a scenic riverside. The stakes driven into the water, the nets strung between them, and the tents pitched above were all fish farms. Primitive ancient Chinese aquaculture amounted to little more than penning fish and feeding them. The group began inspecting the nearest farms one by one.
“Ah, my lord. This stake was driven by my grandfather, and my father and I have tended it ever since, raising it to what you see today.”
“So, the permit is… where?”
Dang Nan-a fired the question with gusto, then stole a quick glance at Paeng Cho-ryo. Whenever Paeng Cho-ryo was in sight, Dang Nan-a’s manners and etiquette rose in tandem—a truly mysterious phenomenon.
“That is…” The fisherman’s voice trailed off.
Of course. Even in Cheong’s homeland, where laws had been codified and rule of law established, the same thing happened. Everywhere you looked, people were spreading mats in every valley and claiming ownership with no basis whatsoever—soulless parasites worse than insects. If the heirs of the great empire behaved this way, what could one expect from the utterly uncivilized people of the Central Plains? The fundamental sentiment of the Central Plains folk was that anything was permissible so long as one was not caught. This mindset had been passed from ancestors to descendants and would continue into the future—the most fundamental way of thinking among the people of the Central Plains. Therefore, obtaining permits for fish farms? Only idiots and fools bothered with such things.
“No, you lowly— I mean, listen here. If you’re going to run a business, you ought to report it to our Tang Clan and request protection, shouldn’t you? What will you do if something happens and you need protection?”
It was the classic demand for protection money. This was how martial artists operated. Why bother learning martial arts only to farm? A far easier and better method was to take from those who farmed. Since it was easier and better, everyone poured their efforts into mastering martial arts, did they not? Of course, one could not simply curse martial artists for it. This was humanity’s way. Those who had took from those who had not—that was human history, whether through fists, institutions, or the crushing weight of wealth.
The fisherman’s face fell. “That… that is not a very profitable business, my lord.”
“Is that so? Then there’s nothing to be done. I wonder if the other farms will request protection or not…”
Only then did the fisherman realize he had no other choice. If trouble arose with other farms, those backed by the Tang Clan’s prestige would simply have to hand over their catch. Any resistance would bring Tang Clan martial artists swarming in. Still, the Tang Clan was a righteous orthodox sect that properly delivered on the protection they were paid for. Since he had not reported to the authorities either, it was obvious the government would not get involved.
“I’ll pay! Of course I must request protection from the Tang Clan’s chivalrous heroes!”
“Good. When a Tang Clan martial artist visits later, settle the account and receive your flag. Until then, you may say that the Understanding Poison Flower has guaranteed it.”
Watching the scene, Cheong thought, Wow, she’s good at business. She really is different from her usual self. Maybe it’s because I saw her treating patients this morning, but she seems sharper somehow. She’s a proper physician, after all!
Jayu alone wore an uncomfortable expression. And since he was a prince, he did not bother hiding his discomfort.
“With the government standing right there, a private group is profiting.”
At that sigh, Cheong let out a small laugh. “You haven’t seen how the officials work. Is it really any different?”
From Cheong’s objective observations, the misdeeds of those affiliated with the government far exceeded those of martial artists. Orthodox martial artists, after all, caught thieves and thugs with the protection fees they received and even took the opportunity to eliminate any convenient demonic practitioners they encountered. In truth, it was the orthodox martial artists who maintained order in the Central Plains. Hadn’t the drifting boat incident proven as much? It had not been an official, but the son of an official, who had acted so tyrannically. Jayu pressed his lips shut. Cheong grinned.
“See? Even after saying it, you feel embarrassed, don’t you?”
“……Not all officials are corrupt.”
“Sichuan is relatively decent, at least. Only Sichuan.”
The group—more precisely, the Tang Clan’s precious daughter—continued conquering the fish farms one by one. Even so, Cheong did not pity the fishermen. She was now in her fourth year in the Central Plains, a proper martial artist who understood how the world worked. Since they were martial artists and had recognized the Understanding Poison Flower, they groveled. Had there been someone with poor eyesight, they would have charged in with spears raised. These fishermen were not honest farm owners; they were illegal street vendors operating without permits.
The left riverbank was nearly at its end. The higher they went, the worse the locations became, since feed used for farming flowed downstream. Therefore, the higher they went, the fewer farms there should have been—yet this particular farm had stakes driven far out and planks extending a great distance. Several of them.
A fisherman who had been handling nets on the far side spotted Cheong’s group and began hurrying toward them.
“Oh?”
While Cheong frowned, Dang Nan-a stepped forward with her usual vigor. Having grown increasingly bold with each tent they passed, she now carried the air of a feudal lord ruling all under heaven.
“Hey, fisherman. Whose permission did you get to run a farm here?”
“That is… I’m sorry to say, but this is a business permitted by the Vice Minister.”
“I knew it would be—wait, what did you say?”
“Since it is a business permitted by the Vice Minister, if it has already been discussed with the great lord…” The fisherman shrank his neck and spoke while gauging their reactions.
“Ah. So that’s where that fat pig—no, that person, keeps finding money to squeeze.” Dang Nan-a’s face twisted.
The Vice Minister was the right-hand man of the Sichuan Provincial Administration Commissioner. The Sichuan Provincial Administration Commissioner was the final authority on all provincial affairs except military matters in Sichuan (in modern terms: the governor), making the Vice Minister the second-in-command among Sichuan officials. With the arrival of the Prince’s household, the hierarchy of officials including the Provincial Administration Commissioner had been pushed back three ranks, but still.
“If you need to see the permit…”
“No, it’s fine.” There was no need to provoke unnecessary conflict with the Vice Minister. Just as Dang Nan-a was about to withdraw, Cheong, who had somehow appeared beside her, scolded her.
“Miss Dang. We didn’t come all this way to collect money, did we?”
At some point, collecting protection fees had taken a backseat, and she was now solely focused on planting flags. Dang Nan-a’s ears flushed red.
“Right. No, I mean, I know that too, okay? Listen. Since we’re not taking protection money, would it be all right if we took a look inside? It seems like someone’s raising a large number of Oyangjeuk.”
“Oyangjeuk, you say? Who would do such a thing!”
Just as the fisherman uttered “who,” he thrust out his hand. A sharp beam of light trailed a long tail as it shot toward Dang Nan-a’s face. A fair hand intercepted it. Cheong, who had been slowly approaching after sensing the fisherman’s considerable misdeeds, had reached out. Something slipped between her index and middle fingers. Upon inspection, it was a single dart. Cheong, who had caught the dart between two fingers on reflex, let out an admiring sound.
“Oh. That was pretty cool, wasn’t it?”
“Tch, you bastard!”
He had probably meant to shout “die,” but the dart buried deep in his shoulder joint turned it into a scream. Cheong struck the fisherman’s dantian. As his upper body hunched with a grunt, she grabbed his neck and drove her thumb into the hollow below his Adam’s apple. At the same time, she seized his uninjured arm and spun him once toward his back. Pop—the satisfying sensation of a shoulder joint dislocating. The feeling of something loose coming free in one go was exquisite. On impulse, she spun him further. Crunch—tendons tore with the sensation of a fish striking bait. Cheong smiled brightly as she slammed the man to the ground and stomped firmly on the center of his back. His spine shattered, and the lower body that had been thrashing immediately stopped moving and went limp. With a hole punched below his Adam’s apple, he could not scream—only the sound of rough, wheezing breaths remained.
Ah! This is it. As expected, breaking bad guys is the best.
The Central Plains mindset of “it’s fine as long as you’re not caught” differed from other races in that it meant “it’s fine as long as you eliminate the witnesses” rather than “it’s fine as long as you do it secretly.” When things went wrong, they killed everyone to silence them. Judging by his misdeeds, he must have buried quite a few people.
“Miss Dang, are you all right? You look quite startled.”
“Ah, y-yes……”
Dang Nan-a, who had been frozen in a daze, finally focused her eyes.
“Hmph! Even if you hadn’t helped, I could have handled it just fine!”
“Sure. Catching that dart was pretty cool, though.”
“That was a little—no, it wasn’t cool at all! And that wasn’t a dart, it was a throwing knife, you know?”
Dang Nan-a agreed without thinking, then shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s say that’s what it was.”
“What! It’s not ‘let’s say’!”
“Hm? Looks like he’s about to die.”
Cheong spoke as if observing an insect.
“I didn’t give him a fatal wound, though? Did I put too much force into that stomp?”
When Cheong flipped him over with the tip of her foot, black blood streamed from his mouth as his eyes rolled back. Dang Nan-a quickly grabbed Cheong’s wrist and pulled her back.
“Get back. It’s poison.”
She then sliced through the fisherman’s clothing around the embedded dart with her sword tip. Black blood, killed by the poison, bubbled up. Just as Dang Nan-a’s expression hardened at the unusual sight—
Piiiiii! A violent flute sound rang out.