Villain, Enemy, Mastermind -1
Somehow, I've climbed all the way up here.
Hwanggeum-seon gazed down over Sichuan, steeped in quiet satisfaction. When he had been born, the Hwang family had been nothing more than the third son among a handful of middling merchant houses in the province. His mother's origins had been humble, and he had never been treated as anyone of consequence — a life spent commanding a single surly servant who barely obeyed him.
Then he had sunk his hands into the affair at the Yeo Family Mountain Villa, become the savior of his clan, risen to the seat of family head, and from that day forward pursued the heights by any means necessary, without scruple or restraint.
The Hwanggeumga had become the foremost merchant house in all of Sichuan, and Hwanggeum-seon had become its master.
The man who once could not properly command a single servant now held influence enough to sway every soul in the province — high enough that he could hurl the entire population of Sichuan before Yeo Il-ye as a living shield.
He felt as though a rotten tooth had finally been pulled. The matter of the Yeo Family Mountain Villa, his greatest vulnerability, was drawing to a close.
This time, I'll snuff out even the last of those embers.
Hwanggeum-seon frowned at the thought of the Jeomchang Sect — a school that cherished its disciples with a ferocity bordering on the absurd.
Yeo Il-ye was as good as a knife at his throat. He wanted her dealt with every bit as badly as he wanted the evidence erased.
Without the Jeomchang Sect at her back, eliminating her would have been trivial. So he had schemed, again and again, to force them into expelling her.
He had seeded exaggerated rumors about her. He had hired nangin to provoke her every time she left the mountain. In the end, Yeo Il-ye had accumulated a reputation that would have gotten her cast out of any other of the Nine Great Sects — and still the Jeomchang Sect had held her close.
All Hwanggeum-seon had gained for his trouble was a bitter, thorough education in just how fiercely that school protected its own. He had been forced to withdraw.
I'll grant them this much — their stupidity is consistent.
A leave of absence.
Most sects had some formal provision for temporarily suspending a disciple's status. In practice, none of them ever granted it. Applying for leave was itself an admission that the disciple intended to do something a sect member was not permitted to do.
Who would allow a disciple to commit acts that could deal a fatal blow to the sect's name and reputation — and then simply walk back through the gates afterward?
Yet Hwanggeum-seon was certain the Jeomchang Sect would grant Yeo Il-ye her leave. Everything he had seen of them told him they were exactly that kind of school.
Which meant he could set a trap lethal enough to bring Jeomchang down with her in a single stroke.
Yeo Il-ye. How far will you be able to endure?
He chuckled, recalling the woman who had detonated her inner energy without restraint and glared him down. A mere martial artist. Someone who could not so much as move a single person of consequence — and yet she had made him feel threatened. The one person who still held the power to destroy everything he had built in an instant.
What would she do when she learned that the people of Sichuan were groaning in agony because of what she had set in motion?
Even if rage blinded her and she stormed the Hwanggeumga, it would already be too late.
"I am Hwangbo Gyeong-chan. It is an honor to meet the master of the renowned Hwanggeumga."
"...Hyeok Gi-rin, Great Disciple of the Jeomchang Sect."
"Jong-hyeok of the Qingcheng Sect..."
"Ah, what an honor to stand before the heroes of the murim. I am Hwanggeum-seon, head of the Hwanggeumga, and — undeservedly — an advisor to the Sichuan Merchants' Alliance."
He had already summoned the shields that would stop Yeo Il-ye. Jeomchang might be a different matter, but the Hwangbo Clan, the Qingcheng Sect, the Zhongnan Sect, and the Emei Sect would all be desperate to forge some connection with Hwanggeum-seon — the foremost merchant of Sichuan and the de facto leader of the Alliance.
If Yeo Il-ye came for the Hwanggeumga, they would be the first to drive her back, and the most eager.
Come. And despair.
Rumors of the bandits were already shaking the whole of Sichuan. It was only a matter of time before they reached Yeo Il-ye's ears, and the moment she heard them she would know exactly who stood behind it all.
And when she arrived in this province, she would learn that she had been denied even the chance to set foot inside the city walls — that four other great schools had closed ranks against her.
Hwanggeum-seon pictured her face twisting with guilt and fury as the news reached her.
I wonder when that heart of yours will finally break.
And if it did not break, he would simply prepare another move. The groundwork was finished; nothing difficult remained. Drive the Jeomchang Sect further into ruin. Make still more people suffer. That was all.
"When I heard that you heroes were lodging in some shabby inn, this old heart of mine ached, and so I took the liberty of inviting you. We have little else to boast of, but we are a household long practiced in the art of hospitality. I hoped we might at least offer you some measure of comfort."
"Hahaha! Your modesty is excessive, Family Head. How could anyone refuse the hospitality of the famed Hwanggeumga? That you would welcome us so generously leaves us nothing but grateful."
How far could Yeo Il-ye endure?
A thick, rising heat of pleasure curled through him, and Hwanggeum-seon smiled.
A pleasure house at midday.
Gae Myeong-bu, elder of the Jambong Sect, glanced about him and slipped into the Seongrak Pavilion.
"This way, if you please."
A warrior of the pavilion recognized him and bowed.
Today a secret council of Sichuan's sects was being held within these walls, and the pavilion's guards had already guided any number of mid-ranking figures from various schools to their seats.
The path Gae Myeong-bu was shown, however, was not the one the others had taken.
"It's been a long time. Or is this the first time I've seen your bare face? We've brushed past each other often enough, I suppose..."
"Hmph. I'd have preferred never to see it at all."
Gae Myeong-bu glared at the middle-aged man with the rat-whisker mustache. The man only beamed back at him. Yu Ji-gyeong, master of the Seongrak Pavilion.
Damn it all... look at the state of things.
Gae Myeong-bu's face tightened. Fifteen years ago he had been nothing more than a common warrior of the Jambong Sect, burning with ambition and no path upward. Advancement required merit, and merit had been scarce.
For a man like that, the sacking of the Yeo Family Mountain Villa had been opportunity itself.
The work had been almost easy.
The villa sat on the border between Sichuan and Yunnan, squarely in the path of every aftershock from the orthodox–heretical wars raging through Sichuan.
Heretical fighters fleeing the province had seeped into Yunnan, toppling its scattered orthodox schools and letting the unorthodox rise. Alarmed, the Yeo Family Mountain Villa had begun hiring nangin to strengthen its defenses.
All he had needed to do was infiltrate as one of those hired blades and swallow the villa's wealth whole.
Under ordinary circumstances, erasing an entire mountain estate would have been a dangerous gamble.
But Yunnan was already in chaos from its clashes with the heretical forces driven out of Sichuan, and Sichuan itself was a noisy free-for-all of mid-sized and minor schools riding the coattails of the great factions. Perfect cover.
Gae Myeong-bu clicked his tongue. With the vast fortune looted from the villa, he had hired his fellow conspirator — Nine Evil Sword Dok Yeong-chan — to dismantle the Tangsu Sect. The Jambong Sect had recognized the achievement, and almost overnight he had been treated as a man of consequence, consolidating his position inside the school at a startling pace.
If only that Moon Night Blade Ya-jeok had succeeded back then...
Nine Evil Sword Dok Yeong-chan had done his part. Moon Night Blade Ya-jeok had failed. Even now the memory left a sour taste in Gae Myeong-bu's mouth. If the Jajang Sect had fallen, the Jambong Sect would have ruled Sichuan by now.
The destruction of the Tangsu Sect had secured his standing, but the failure to bring down the Jajang Sect had cost him the kind of influence that could have made him the true master of a school destined to dominate the province. He still wielded no small power within the Jambong Sect — but compared to what might have been, it was a meager harvest.
And those two, on the other hand...
The perpetrators of the bloodbath at the Yeo Family Mountain Villa had been a mixed lot. Men who lived in the shadows — Nine Evil Sword Dok Yeong-chan, Moon Night Blade Ya-jeok — had never bothered to hide their identities with any real care. But those who held respectable positions in the light, like Gae Myeong-bu himself, had buried their true faces deep.
Then he had returned to Sichuan and understood.
Hwanggeum-seon of the Hwanggeumga. Yu Ji-gyeong, master of the Seongrak Pavilion. Both of them had been his partners in the slaughter at the villa. The sudden wealth. The ruthless willingness to eliminate every rival by any means necessary.
No disguise was perfect enough to leave no trace at all. Once he held a firm suspicion, their identities became plain. They had recognized one another the same way.
And from that day the three of them had aided one another in unspoken collusion. Not out of camaraderie — out of necessity. All three were men who would erase a mountain villa from the face of the earth if it meant success, and all three had climbed by taking risks no one else would dare.
Suppose Yu Ji-gyeong fell. Would he simply die quietly? Of course not. As a last resort he would threaten to expose the bloodbath at the Yeo Family Mountain Villa and drag Hwanggeum-seon and Gae Myeong-bu down with him.
"So that girl finally made her move."
"Heh heh. And thanks to her, I — no, you as well — stand to gain a great deal. Isn't that a fine thing?"
A letter from Hwanggeum-seon had arrived for the two men who had only ever helped each other in silence. Inside it was an offer neither of them could refuse.
"The day this Yu Ji-gyeong is called the Night King of Sichuan is not far off...!"
No trade felt an economic downturn more immediately than the pleasure houses. When purses were full, men who once settled for a single bottle of clear wine suddenly wanted a woman on their arm and finer dishes on the table.
Sichuan, where every day had been rewriting the peak of a golden age, had seized up almost overnight. Most pavilion masters had been racing to expand on borrowed money.
The perfect climate for swallowing the night streets of the entire province. And Hwanggeum-seon had promised Yu Ji-gyeong enormous financial backing. If the gold of the Hwanggeumga was used to devour every pleasure house drowning in debt, a true Night King of Sichuan might well be born.
A place among the Hwangbo Clan or the Nine Great Sects...
Gae Myeong-bu, for his part, had been promised a seat among the great clans and schools newly establishing themselves in Sichuan — a chance to transfer into one of the Nine Great Sects alongside a handful of his closest allies from the Jambong Sect. He would never be treated as a senior figure among the Nine, but it was still a far better station than a mere elder of the Jambong Sect.
And more than that: with the martial arts of the Nine Great Sects, he might finally break through the Super-Peak Realm that had sealed him in place for so long.
If he could reach the Transformation Realm, even the Nine Great Sects would have to treat him with respect.
"Let's handle this cleanly."
"Agreed."
Yu Ji-gyeong had already begun spreading slander against the sects rooted in Sichuan, poisoning the public mood with ugly rumors.
Gae Myeong-bu had his own assigned role.
His task was to drive a wedge through the sects of Sichuan and split them apart.
The hall he was led to was already packed with seated figures.
"It seems the guest of honor has finally arrived."
Yu Sa-yeon looked at Gae Myeong-bu and ground her teeth in silence.
You miserable bastard.
Yu Sa-yeon was a survivor of the Tangsu Sect.
The man who had used Nine Evil Sword Dok Yeong-chan as a tool to annihilate her school. She would have torn him apart with her bare teeth if she could — but she had endured all these years for one reason alone: to erase the Jambong Sect itself from the murim.
She had abandoned her surname, her given name, everything, and melted into Sichuan, certain that if her connection to the Tangsu Sect ever came to light, Gae Myeong-bu would come for her life.
She forced her emotions under iron control. Gae Myeong-bu still believed every survivor of the Tangsu Sect had scattered and vanished. They said a gentleman's revenge was not too late even after ten years. She had waited long enough to make a gentleman bite his tongue — and she would not throw that away now by letting a flicker of feeling give her away.
She worked to keep her hatred from spilling past the bounds of what the moment allowed. She shaped her anger so that it would look like nothing more than a tavern keeper's fury over the mess at the Wanderer Inn. The one mercy was that most of the sect leaders in the room were already glaring at Gae Myeong-bu with open rage of their own.
They had been fighting to push back the tide of opinion in favor of establishing branch halls for the Nine Great Sects — and this man had sabotaged them!
"Shameless!"
"What is the Jambong Sect thinking? Storming a performance and pulling a stunt like that! You had better have a good answer!"
Gae Myeong-bu folded his arms with perfect composure and opened his mouth.
"First, allow me to offer my apologies to the innkeeper. I will see to it that she receives full financial compensation. The injured nangin will be paid ten times their usual commission."
"A few coins won't paper this over."
"Then send whatever further reparations you require to the Jambong Sect. Forgive me, Innkeeper, but the reason I came here today is to explain why I acted as I did — and to offer the sects of Sichuan a clearer picture of what lies ahead."
What is this bastard scheming?
Yu Sa-yeon stared him down, but Gae Myeong-bu looked past her to the other sect leaders.
"Has anyone here heard the rumors circulating these past two days?"
The room stirred. Those most sensitive to gossip frowned.
"The sects of Sichuan are banding together to block the arrival of a master from the Nine Great Sects who would suppress the bandits! That is the rumor running through the streets."
A ripple of unease.
"I heard something of the sort..."
"There was a rumor like that?"
Gae Myeong-bu waited just long enough for them to begin confirming the story among themselves, then raised his voice.
"That is why I moved so quickly yesterday to stop that clumsy little play! The discontent of Sichuan's people has swollen far past the point where a bit of charity work or street theater can soothe it!"
"So what exactly are you proposing?"
"I don't trust the Jambong Sect's attitude one bit!"
"The hearts of the people of Sichuan have already left us! This is no longer a situation we can manage among ourselves!"
Gae Myeong-bu pressed on with heat.
"Sichuan is dying under the weight of bandits, and you speak of volunteer work? Of driving out nangin? How could trifles like that ever win the people back? We must find a new path to survival."
A new path? The sect leaders leaned in.
"You all seem to view the establishment of branch halls by the great factions in nothing but a negative light. Where do you imagine the manpower to administer a province this vast will suddenly spring from? And no matter that it is a branch in Sichuan — a branch is still a branch. How many people do you truly believe will volunteer to leave their main mountain or main house and come here?"
Several of the leaders shifted restlessly at his words.
"Local recruitment..."
"They'll have no choice but to take on local talent to some degree... No — there may even be large-scale recruitment."
The heads of the sects began to murmur among themselves. Gae Myeong-bu's argument had the force of practical reality. Vast grounds would need people to fill them, and the manpower required to control Sichuan would have to be gathered quickly. How many years would it take to recruit disciples and train them into proper martial artists?
The reasons for absorbing outside talent from within Sichuan were more than sufficient. The representatives of the various schools split in their reactions — some determined to protect their own sects at any cost, others beginning to wonder whether absorption into the Nine Great Sects or the Hwangbo Clan might not be the wiser course.
Gae Myeong-bu smiled inwardly.
This was a story that appealed only to those schools that already had ties to the great factions. No matter how aggressively they expanded their ranks, they would never take people from a school with no existing connection.
"Perhaps that would be the more realistic path..."
"Absorption by the great factions..."
As those with lines to the great schools began to look tempted, those who had built their sects with nothing but their own strength turned on them in fury.
"You would abandon your own school? And you still call yourself a senior of your sect?"
"What did you say? You lot used Sichuan nangin to harm our disciples!"
For those without ties to the great factions, the founding of branch halls was as good as a death sentence. They had to drag the consensus back toward unity among Sichuan's own schools, no matter what it took.
In an instant the atmosphere fractured. Every school had its own position; the more options laid on the table, the more inevitably each would splinter off in pursuit of its own advantage.
Yu Sa-yeon bit down on her lip.
...It's over.
To pull these shattered schools back together would take either an overwhelming reward or a single, crystal-clear goal that demanded absolute unity.
But in a crisis that decided the fate of every school in the room, was there any goal that could bind the divided sects of Sichuan into one?
There was no sign that their opinions would ever converge.
In the end, the council of Sichuan's sects collapsed without reaching a single conclusion.