Off to Shanxi, Then - 2
With things turning out like this, we were heading to Shanxi. If we couldn't rebuild the old Hangshan, we'd just make a new one—that miraculous logic only the master of the realm, the Emperor, could unleash. I, the sect leader, and even Elder Jeong, who'd come to deliver the news, were left stunned. But soon enough, bewilderment gave way to overflowing joy.
"As they say, learning knows no end, and how true that is. This lowly Daoist has received great enlightenment from His Majesty—what else can I do but shed tears and bow in gratitude?"
With those words, the sect leader prostrated himself toward Kaepyeong, where the Emperor resided. It might seem like an over-the-top reaction, but every gesture rang with sincerity. He seemed genuinely moved at the thought of finally escaping this pile of ashes and living in a new Hangshan. I could understand it completely. Even as a mere guest, I'd looked at the place and wondered, 'Is this really fit for human habitation?' How much worse must it have been for the Hangshanpa disciples who'd made it their home? Waking to hell each morning, drifting off to sleep amid corpses—that had to be their daily reality.
'Hyeonak, huh.' And the new site, dubbed the new Hangshan and North Peak, was perfectly positioned. Right on the border between Habuk and Shanxi, it allowed for swift response if the northern frontiers stirred. Habuk and Shanxi had always been prime invasion routes for barbarians, so planting a sect there would give the court a real sense of security.
Shanxi's murim scene had been a leaderless wasteland, then and now. To the east in Habuk: Hangshanpa, Peng Clan, Yun Clan. West in Seomseo: Zhongnanpa and Huashanpa. South in Zhili: Shaolin. But Shanxi? Eerily devoid of any heavyweights. Small fry ran wild as a result. Now, if a battle-hardened, court-friendly sect like Hangshanpa set up shop there? Those middling powers would bow to the overwhelming leader, making it far easier for the court to rein in Shanxi's murim.
'...Sounds pretty good.' No matter how I turned it over, relocating Hangshan was a masterstroke. The sect got a fresh start, the court ditched the money pit of rebuilding, the northern border got stronger, and the unruly Shanxi murim fell under control. All for the price of moving one sect.
'Not something you'd improvise.' I stroked my chin, watching the sect leader still bowing. The Emperor had probably been mulling this relocation for a while. 'Then this incident cropped up just as he was pondering the timing.'
The gunpowder scandal was perfect cover. Hangshanpa's tip-off had exposed the traitors peddling it, so a reward was due. Plus, with the story hushed up, hush money was in order too. When you factored in reward and gag fees, approving a relocation was a steal—that seemed to be the Emperor's calculus.
"Long live the Emperor! Long live! Long, long live!"
"Long live! Long live! Long, long live!"
The sect leader's triple cheer drew an emotional echo from Elder Jeong. "...Long live! Long live! Long, long live!" I joined in too—the mood left no room for silence.
After that, Hangshanpa kept me for five full days of lavish hospitality. "We can't just send off the final guest at the old Hangshan without proper farewell," they insisted. In the sect leader's heart, Hangshan was already in Hyeonak, Shanxi.
"I should have realized when the Vice Inspector brought spirit beasts. You were the noble guest bringing red blessings to our Hangshanpa, and I was blind to it."
"How could it be my merit? It's Hangshanpa's devotion to the realm's peace that finally reached His Majesty—this is all your sect's achievement."
I gave fitting replies to the sect leader, his face flushed red—whether from five days of feasting or drowning wine for water, who could say? Daoists drinking wasn't shocking; everyone knew they imbibed "grain tea" on the sly. But seeing their usually serene, quiet leader utterly sloshed surprised not just me, but his own disciples too.
'That happy about it, huh.' A twinge of pity hit me. From what I recalled, he'd taken the helm in his late teens or early twenties. A mere latter-generation disciple—and a woman at that—leading guerrilla war against Mongol oppression. With a half-ruined sect, no less. She had to project unyielding strength, never showing a crack. That habit lingered; aside from crushing the Peng Clan, she always appeared composed.
Aside from the Peng Clan, that is. To Hangshanpa, they were just beast pups.
"Burying fallen comrades first... burying my master, seniors, and juniors in this death-trap always gnawed at me. Now we can lay them to rest in a new Hangshan, a new home—how could I not be grateful..."
I gave a wry smile at the repeated thanks. His words were slurring; one more cup and he'd drop.
"Sect Leader, on a joyous day like this, tending only to guests will leave your disciples feeling left out."
"Ah, right! Hangshanpa's blessing—we must all rejoice together!"
That's why Elder Jeong, catching my eye, smoothly steered him elsewhere. Probably to share a few more rounds with the elders or disciples before passing out in a corner.
'High-level masters don't suffer hangovers, though.' Swaying now from the revelry, he'd wake tomorrow fresh as ever. Perks of reaching that realm.
'When do I get there?' I was a seasoned first-rate expert, but progress beyond had stalled. The master's wall wasn't just about grinding techniques.
Such thoughts in mind, I scanned the banquet hall: rowdy, vibrant energy everywhere. Among all the sect banquets I'd attended touring murim, had I ever felt this genuinely welcomed?
'If only more sects were like this.' Thankfully, the big names—Wudang, Hengshan, Huashan, Zhongnan, Shaolin—were court-friendly. But beyond those elites, most sects and clans had stayed silent during the Mongol wars, earning parakho labels and the court's distrust. How often had I been welcomed, then? Maybe when pledging aid to the Yun Clan.
That's why this felt so warm. 'Once they settle in Shanxi, I'll drop by for a housewarming.' Yeah, fate being what it was, I'd have business there for sure. No way around it.
The sect leader and elders saw me off all the way down from Hangshan.
"If only every sect in the world were like this."
"Couldn't agree more, sir."
Jo Wi-cheo nodded without hesitation, stuffed with meat and wine. A guy who lived for food—his fondness for Hangshanpa must have skyrocketed.
Even Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i got VIP treatment as bringers of fortune. Passing by, I saw disciples giving them ceremonial baths. Their antlers gleamed brighter than days ago, their fur carrying a faint fragrance. Cleaner than most people, honestly.
"You won't get this in Shanxi, so think of it as stockpiling hospitality."
"Yes, sir."
Shanxi was a free-for-all of middling powers; Hangshanpa's arrival would crown them top dog instantly. Few court allies meant slim pickings for welcomes. We'd been smashing parakho there ourselves not long ago. Sure, we'd detoured south for Dong-gu Wang's shipwreck crisis, but no dramatic shift in the interim. In Shanxi, it was just "are there noisy parakho pups?" or "any decent ones among the mediocrities?" We'd check and move on. Shanxi was just a rest stop en route to Seomseo.
'Seomseo's where the real grind awaits.' A sigh escaped me. Zhongnanpa and Huashanpa dominated there, cozy with the court—but their rivalry was endless. Visits meant competing envoys, exhaustive snitching on each other. No wonder folks said Seomseo didn't need inspectors; the two sects dragged in every issue themselves.
'Like kids fighting.' But what could you do? In the untouchable murim days, they'd have settled it with fists. Now, any clash meant joint arrest by the court—even for founding-contributor sects.
'...Time for a martial tournament soon.' Sudden idea, but solid. Why waste admin on probes when you could give them a legal arena? I'd hash it out seriously with the Prefect upon arrival.
I figured Shanxi would be a smooth, uneventful pass this time. We'd toured it before heading south—no incidents then, none expected now.
"Get lost, you filthy unorthodox scum!"
"Unorthodox my ass! When are you gonna drop this orthodox-heretic bullshit?!"
Wrong.
"What the...?" Even in a backwater village, parakho were blatantly dueling with blades. Was this a courtship for Shanhaiguan recruits? I hadn't expected it this intense.