The Fierce Battle Over the Spoils
All the mechanisms in the tomb had been fully disarmed, turning the path from the entrance to this chamber into a safe route even a commoner could traverse without issue. Thanks to that, I was able to call in the two hundred laborers waiting outside, and we quickly began transferring the grave goods.
"Move the stele last. Lord Mu-an is watching, so handle it with utmost care."
I issued the indirect order—anyone caught pocketing something gets executed—then personally checked each item as the workers carried them out. They might do the heavy lifting, but the records were my responsibility.
More extravagant than I expected.
Unlike what I'd imagined for Baek Gi's tomb—piles of martial manuals and weapons—this chamber was filled with treasures and artworks too. Jade carvings, gold jewelry, poems estimated to be penned by famous calligraphers of the era. Items that didn't quite fit a butcher who'd ground tens of thousands into dust. Or maybe they did. In a state like Qin, where rewards and punishments were absolute, a hero like Baek Gi must have lived in luxury right up until the suicide order came. He'd have amassed wealth beyond envy, and even a fraction of it would surpass most tombs' grave goods.
Or maybe they dumped their leftover fortune here after building the place.
These madmen had built such a massive tomb and installed countless traps. They even cast spells on the horse Baek Gi rode in life out of reverence, so stashing their own wealth here after the fact wouldn't be surprising. A vast land breeds all sorts of eccentrics.
"My lord."
"Yeah, what?"
As I cataloged dozens of silk scrolls inscribed with poems, Jo Wi-cheo approached.
"We found a martial arts manual."
My head snapped around at that. Baek Gi's tomb—maybe his personal techniques were here. And sure enough...
"Ah."
But the moment I saw the manual in Jo Wi-cheo's hands, a quiet sigh escaped me.
...What the hell does that even say?
Letters from 1,600 years ago, no less. From before Qin Shi Huang unified the scripts across the Central Plains. Qin's script became the basis for the new standard, sure, but after 1,600 years, who'd recognize it unchanged? The stele had simple enough characters for me to make out, but as a proper rank-four official, I couldn't lose face by failing to read a title. So I racked my brains and pieced it together—
Myeol Yuk Guk Pyeong Cheon Sin Geom?
I could just barely read the title.
Vicious name.
Enemy World Extinction Power—a divine sword to annihilate the six states and pacify the heavens. Too flashy for a mere warrior, but fitting for Baek Gi's art. The man had scoured those states soul-deep, after all.
"Send it to the capital for deciphering. Keep it safe."
"Yes, my lord."
I noted the name—Baek Gi's unique martial art (presumed)—in the catalog and handed custody to Jo Wi-cheo. A lost art from Baek Gi himself? Peak masters would lose their minds and come charging. Better in the hands of a true expert like him than some first-rate hack like me.
"Grab any others you find too."
"Right away."
He nodded at my order and returned to the piles. We'd already agreed all manuals go to the throne. All martial arts under heaven belong in the imperial vaults—no exceptions, even for sects that unearthed them. Besides, sects like Zhongnan and Huashan had their own solid foundations. No need to poach Baek Gi's. They'd split elixirs and raw wealth by agreed ratios, so no complaints there.
- Kki-iing.
- Kki-ong.
"You two worked hard."
As Jo Wi-cheo stepped away, Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i wandered over from prowling the chamber. No denying it—they were the MVPs of this dig. Found hidden passages, pointed out the right forks, even brawled the tomb guardians. Without them, we'd still be lost in here.
Yeah, they were heroes, but...
"What the hell are you eating?"
Up close, these two had something in their mouths, chewing away.
Nothing edible here?
Not a blade of grass in this barren chamber. The only things to mouth would be...
Unease hit me. I stopped petting their heads and stared at their mouths. Guilty, they slyly turned away.
"Spit it out! Whatever it is, spit it out now!"
- Kki-iing! Kki-ing!
- Kki-oooong!
I grabbed the necks of my two heroes-turned-villains and shook. Paper-eaters, these ones. If it was a manual or a priceless silk scroll, we'd be damaging cultural relics in real time. Unacceptable. Even heroes don't get a free pass.
- Gulp.
"You little shits!"
Their throats bobbed, and anyone could hear the swallow. I'd have done the Heimlich a dozen times on deer if it worked. Chaos aside, the transfer finished smoothly. We never did figure out what they ate. Can't exactly gut them to check.
"No torn manuals among the lot, right? Whatever they scarfed was small potatoes. No need to fret."
"Without them, this dig would've been impossible. Call it their reward."
No one held a grudge against the spirit beasts' antics. Good enough. As the elders said, a gift for meritorious service—or since we never ID'd it, pretend it never existed. I overreacted mostly to preempt sect complaints, but with none coming, no point fuming. Glad it blew over smoothly.
What did they eat, though?
I pondered while petting the still-wary pair. Not metal, I hope? Paper's digestible enough, but no starfish here—metal's off the menu for spirit beasts.
An elixir, maybe?
Most likely. We'd found plenty among the goods; they could've snagged one unnoticed.
Spirit beasts eating elixirs...
Odd feeling. Good things eating good things—like ginseng-fed premium chickens.
"Let's head back, then. We'll hash out the split at leisure."
Of course, stronger mounts for me? Worth celebrating. Drop it.
One mountain climbed—excavation done—another loomed.
"Shouldn't Zhongnan take priority on elixirs? Huashan has its Self-Revival Pills; no need for others."
"I get Zhongnan lacks proprietary elixirs, but you can't just whip them up on demand. And elixirs benefit the many—split 'em fair."
Profit division, the loftiest peak of all.
I'm gonna lose it.
I scratched my neck watching the two elders bicker, Pojeongsa mediating. They'd restrained themselves inside—too unpredictable—but now, safety secured, the sniping resumed. Savvy enough to pick battles, or just rabid dogs at every chance? Hard to say.
"If we yield elixirs, what compensates us?"
"Plenty of art here for swaps. Heard Huashan’s short on funds lately."
"Expenses have piled up, true, but not enough to worry Zhongnan."
Part of me wanted to yell knock it off, but I held back. Real stakes like grave goods? Push too hard, and resentment brews. Ruining ties with meritorious sects over this? Nah.
Damn humans.
Swallowed a sigh. Filthy lot. Silent under my thumb in the tomb for gain, now barking for advantage. Pitiful from the outside, but normal for these two. Joint ops are the anomaly.
"Equal shares, sure—not identical halves. Better if each takes what they need."
"Fair, but Zhongnan needs become Huashan's too. Same Daoist sects, similar consumables, no?"
"Maybe similar items, different scales. Everyone knows Zhongnan dwarfs Huashan..."
"What?!"
I watched the elders snipe on, ignoring the enlightened Pojeongsa. Sky-high pride, matching skills—no yielding. Their clash cramped my chest; I wanted out.
More intense than the tomb fights.
Suddenly, I recalled the spirit beasts and zombie horse duking it out before Baek Gi's stele. Mouth-fights fiercer than their bloodbath. Felt bad tarnishing that loyal steed's dignity, even in death.