Rivals at the Tomb
With the Pojeongsa, I headed to the reception hall, where two extraordinary Daoists were seated. Their beards, grown down to their chests, seemed to embody the weight of their years, exuding a profound gravitas, while the gentle smiles on their faces warmed the hearts of all who beheld them. Their builds were perfectly balanced—not overly muscular, nor gaunt and withered—like the refined elegance of a Daoist who had walked only the elite path from youth. I wonder if this is what a Daoist who ages gracefully looks like, I thought.
"Prefect, you've arrived."
"Greetings to you, sir."
Spotting the Pojeongsa and me, the two Daoists rose from their seats and cupped their hands in salute.
Similar, yet different, I observed quietly from behind the Pojeongsa, gauging their auras. As fellow Daoist sects, their energies were broadly alike, but rivalry marked key differences. If I had to liken them, the Daoist in white robes emanated the presence of a colossal mountain range, while the one in black robes carried the tense hush before a typhoon.
White is Zhongnan, black is Huashan, I figured. Their auras made it clear enough. Zhongnanpa prized the profound subtleties of heavy greatswords, while Huashanpa favored swift, illusory swordplay full of transformations.
"Aigoo, no need for that—please, have a seat. It pains me to see elders like you standing."
The Pojeongsa waved them off, urging them back to their seats in response to their greetings. That confirmed it. As I'd suspected, the sect leaders themselves had come in person.
Tae-eul Geom-jong So Yu-gyeong, Mae-hwa Geom-seon Hyeon Un-jin.
Seasoned veterans even during the founding wars, these two elders could retire at any moment without raising eyebrows. Though unaffiliated with the court, their monumental contributions to the nation's birth commanded respect—even from the Pojeongsa, who had been little more than a child then. With the era of martial inviolability shattered, formal titles had faded, but whispers still hailed them as swordsmen who had reached the pinnacle, immortals of the blade. Across this Shaanxi province—or the entire Central Plains—they were titans. At the Pojeongsa's urging, the two leaders burst into hearty laughter.
"How could we sit while the Prefect, tasked by His Majesty himself to govern Shaanxi, stands?"
"Indeed. Please, sir, don't shame these old bones—treat us comfortably."
It felt like ancient seniors teasing a fresh recruit: "Hey, call me 'hyung'." I couldn't help a wry smile. A bureaucrat treating founding heroes casually? That was a career-ender.
"But sir, who is the gentleman behind you?"
"Hmm... A stranger, yet somehow familiar..."
Soon enough, their attention turned to me lurking behind the Pojeongsa.
"I am Left Vice Inspector General Han Un. It is an honor to meet the heroes who helped set the world aright."
"Oh, the Left Vice Inspector General!"
"Ah, that explains the familiar face—Giwang's grandson."
Stepping forward with a cupped-fist salute, I received a friendly response.
"Hoho, the Prefect is granting us old folk a precious connection."
"Quite so. We came with regrets to share, but we've already received a gift—what a dilemma."
So Yu-gyeong stroked his beard as he spoke, and Hyeon Un-jin quipped back playfully. But while the leaders kept smiling, the Pojeongsa and I couldn't join them.
'Regrets...' They were openly admitting they'd come to request court mediation. My hands and feet went cold, tears nearly welling up.
Arbitrate between two sects competing over massive grave goods? Zhongnanpa and Huashanpa, no less? The mediator would collapse first. High blood pressure alone would finish me. Dizziness hit just thinking about it.
The rivalry between Zhongnanpa and Huashanpa was labyrinthine. To the uninformed, it might seem natural—two Daoist sects side by side in the same region, bound to compete. But their feud ran far deeper than overlapping territories. To unravel it, one had to delve into the past, to an era before either sect existed, when the Central Plains' martial history boasted its greatest Daoist powerhouse.
The Quan Zhen Jiao. Perched on Zhongnan Mountain—today Zhongnanpa's stronghold—this sect wielded such immense authority and scale that both Zhongnanpa and Huashanpa were mere offshoots. Yet during the Yuan era, internal power struggles tore it asunder.
Even its shattered remnants produced that caliber? Unbelievable.
Quan Zhen Jiao's legacy endured despite its tragic end. Zhongnanpa and Huashanpa, splinter factions that fled with fragments, had risen to prominence—what must the whole have been like? But independence in the same mountains, at the same time, with similar dispositions? That sowed their misfortune.
"As the rightful heirs of Quan Zhen Jiao on Zhongnan Mountain, we claim all its legacy! Huashanpa must acknowledge Zhongnan's supremacy!"
Zhongnanpa, having secured the prime prize of Zhongnan Mountain, sought to reassemble the sect from its ruins.
"Quan Zhen Jiao had grown corrupt and decadent! Obsessed with worldly power, scorning the Dao and the common folk—how could it be a true sect? We must erase its traces and start anew!"
Huashanpa, fresh from independence and loath to bow again, flipped them the bird.
The rest was history. Born to clash, the sects still brawled endlessly. Their current leaders, comrades from the founding wars, at least held a baseline of restraint—but they still viewed each other as rivals.
"I've heard Zhongnanpa has plenty on its southern plate. Why not leave this to us at Huashanpa? Overdoing it might bring illness."
"Hoho, it may look substantial to you, but nothing to worry over."
Even now, smiles masked their jabs. Hyeon Un-jin implied, 'Zhongnan's already gorged southwards—back off already?' while So Yu-gyeong countered, 'We're still hungry, you smug bastard.' Their verbal sparring swelled my chest with... dread. I wanted to flee.
Damn it. Shouldn't have come. Let them fight it out quietly until something blew up. Cleanup wasted energy? Listening to these geezers drains it faster. Better to rest, then suffer.
Just all leave, please.
I watched the leaders flank the Pojeongsa, locked in fierce debate. Odd feeling. Why brawl over excavating someone's tomb? And Daoists pursuing the Dao... grave-robbing? Was their Dao the Dao of tomb-raiding?
...Are all murim folk like this? Maybe not Daoist quirks—murim nature. Dead's rest be damned; find something good, dig it up. In the inviolability era, no court pleas—they'd swarm nationwide for a speedrun dig, swords flashing as bonus.
"Zhongnan's Daoists have toiled enough, so by Daoist ethics, Huashan should—"
"Reinterring for the dead's peace is Zhongnan's forte—"
"No, let's rather—"
I stared at drifting dust, ears shut. Zone out till they concluded, then follow orders. Speaking up would end badly.
After an hour of wrangling, the Bai Qi tomb excavation—er, survey—would proceed jointly: court, Zhongnanpa, Huashanpa. Shares: a whopping 6:2:2, court taking 6 naturally.
"Knew it'd end this way—why drag it out?"
"Cut the Vice Inspector some slack. Everyone knows the sects' bad blood; leaders can't extend hands first. They knew it'd come to this, so they sought the court."
I sighed softly; the Pojeongsa chuckled consolingly. He was right. Larger, older the group, the harder for its head to bow or reach out. Hence their trip for "court mediation" cover.
"Still, thanks to you, Vice Inspector, it wrapped quickly. Appreciated."
"Too kind. What did I even do?"
Perplexed, I shook my head. The Pojeongsa had mediated hard; I'd just breathed. Barely spoke post-greeting. Me speeding it up? Even courtesy stung.
"Both leaders served under Giwang. Hard to show greedy faces before his eldest grandson, rivals or not."
That made sense. Full tilt, it'd be savage burns and curses. But as Giwang's blood, I was their old boss's kin. Ugly displays might reach Grandfather's ears.
I was the totem. I chuckled. Unwittingly, I'd maintained peace.
"Well then, Vice Inspector—see you at the dig. We'll ensure you're not shortchanged on goods."
"With your word, sir, I'm excited. Preparing deep pockets."
"Oops, shouldn't have said that."
We both laughed. Totem or not, no clashes? Mission accomplished.
We arrived at Bai Qi's tomb near Seoan. The sects' Daoists, ahead of us, filled our view.
Oh.
Standing far apart, glaring subtly in standoff. No need to check IDs—classic Zhongnan vs. Huashan.