Dawn at the Righteous-Sects Headquarters
The Righteous-Sects Headquarters stood in Chang'an. It was the force that had drawn righteous and demonic factions together and bound them into one in the face of disaster—outbreaks and purgatories alike.
If anyone asked why the imperial court in Beijing had allowed the headquarters to remain in Chang'an, the answer was simple: the court had told them not to follow. When one power attached itself to another, it became the perfect target for checks and restraints. Besides, the Righteous-Sects Headquarters had effectively become a dispatch center for managing the countless outbreaks and purgatories that appeared all across the Central Plains, so being based in Chang'an, the heart of the realm, was simply more efficient.
Of course, in public they would never dare say, “What kind of bastards would even try to restrain the Son of Heaven and the imperial court?”
In any case, the Righteous-Sects Headquarters was far from quiet that morning.
Before the rooster had even crowed, lights began to flicker on in the main hall, one by one. Through the torn paper windows, the dawn wind slipped inside and lifted the corners of reports piled on the desks like small mountains.
Messages and outbreak records, brought in through the night by messengers racing on suguta, had stacked up so high that no one could tell whether the surface in front of them was a desk or a paper pillar. Someone ground dry ink. Someone else bit down on the end of a brush and swallowed a deep sigh.
[Three outbreaks have occurred simultaneously.]
[Minor tremors resumed in Manhon Yeon-ok. Fine cracks confirmed in the Manhon Yeon-ok area.]
[During cleanup of outbreak remnants, a small spatial rift was discovered.]
The lines scrolling one after another across the jade plaques were dry and emotionless, but as the officials read them, a vicious ache settled into their temples.
The Righteous-Sects Headquarters sounded grand, as though it stood to protect the order of the world. In truth, it was more like the place that took on every grievance and every piece of leftover work the martial world didn’t want to handle.
Whenever a meeting was held, the main hall turned into a battlefield. The ceiling was high, and every pillar was carved with dragons and phoenixes meant to symbolize the spirit of the martial world, but those symbols had no power here now.
“Shouldn’t we establish order? Closing outbreaks is a matter of the Dao!”
The righteous sect representatives searched for legitimacy, stroking their beards as they spoke.
“What right does the Righteous-Sects Headquarters have to order us around? We’re the ones going to die here—what exactly have you bastards done to help?”
The great figures of the demonic factions snorted and argued for practical gain.
The Demonic Cult went a step further.
“If you intend to subjugate the outbreaks, we won’t stop you. But anything recovered from inside belongs to our cult.”
The Blood Cult didn’t even bother with pretense, setting up an altar and spreading whispers of fanatic madness.
“Purgatories and outbreaks are revelations from heaven. Those who close them will be struck by divine punishment, so they must be revered—”
“What is this guy now?”
“That’s a Blood Cult member, isn’t it? Seize him!”
All of that grumbling, all of those complaints, and even the news of purgatories and outbreaks themselves poured into the main hall of the headquarters. Between the pounding of tables and the shattering of teacups, a young official clutched his head and muttered, “We’re short on people now...”
Outbreaks kept multiplying, purgatories kept breathing again, and people only kept disappearing.
Cheongryumun had lost Lee Docheong, and Jeokmyeonghoe had been cut in half.
Small, nameless sects vanished from the map without ever leaving behind a single line in the records.
The Righteous-Sects Headquarters had to write down those erased names. Who had died, where, and why.
But the box for “why” was always left blank. They wrote it only because the person was dead.
Did death even have a reason? Especially in outbreaks and purgatories—once total annihilation came, every record had only white space left to write in. Nothing from inside had made it out alive.
***
Beep-dee-ring~
Baedal-ui Hojok order~
Beep-dee-ring~
Baedal-ui Hojok order~
At the same time, Mugung Hyeoptak’s kitchen was a battlefield for a different reason.
Not only because orders kept coming in nonstop, but because of one truly enormous one, which made everyone genuinely busy.
“Yeonhwa! Are the sandwiches done baking yet? The sound of the onions frying is duller than usual! Put more internal energy into it!”
Master Jangro Suksu’s roar shook the kitchen.
“Master, my hands and feet are currently drowning in onion-induced tears, so I think I’m in a state of deviation into qi deviation! I’m not trying to become an enemy of ten thousand men—I’m just about ready to collapse after fighting ten thousand onions!”
Yeonhwa wiped at her eyes and rolled the thinly sliced meat around on the griddle with the onions.
Damn it. Wiping my tears just makes it burn more.
Beside her, Assistant Chef Baek was trimming vegetables, and serving boy Park’s hands were a blur as he sorted delivery bundles and cardboard boxes.
Yeonhwa paused, then called back to her master again.
“Still, Master, this order is absolutely huge. It didn’t even come from a local district office—it came straight from the Righteous-Sects Headquarters. Does that mean our restaurant is finally being designated an officially recognized hotspot by the headquarters? They’re not coming to inspect the hygiene, are they?”
“Stop talking nonsense and stuff it properly! The officials at the Righteous-Sects Headquarters are picky with their food but impatient with their tempers. If we’re even a little late, a formal complaint will be on its way!”
They sliced onions, grilled meat, fried vegetables, baked bread, stuffed fillings between slices...
This order was special. The contents of the jade plaque read:
Order received: Righteous-Sects Headquarters — fifty portions of food that can be eaten easily. Meetings are expected to continue for three days and nights, so make it something they can hold in one hand while reading documents. Pack it so it won’t spill. As quickly as possible.
After tasting the finished food, Jangro Suksu nodded.
“Good. A full belly is what gets the brain moving. Park! Hurry and grab the Baedal-ui Hojok jade plaque, then get this over there on the suguta!”
Yeonhwa and her master had come up with the sandwich. They packed meat, cheese, and stir-fried vegetables generously between slices of bread, then wrapped them firmly in paper so the sauce wouldn’t leak. On top of that, they filled small ceramic bottles with hot pumpkin soup and packed them to retain heat.
“When people gather, they get hungry. When they get hungry, they get irritable. When they get irritable, the meeting goes off the rails. This isn’t cooking, Master—it’s a strategy for maintaining peace in the martial world.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here, stirring fire.”
If Master had to stir the fire in the kitchen, then peace in the martial world would be broken? Maybe he was some kind of Heavenly Demon after all. I should make a note of that.
“Food’s ready! Messenger! To headquarters! Quickly!”
“Yes, sir! I’m going!”
Vroooom—
***
Main hall of the Righteous-Sects Headquarters.
Cries of anger flew everywhere, and on one side even a brush was being flung through the air.
“So you’re saying we’re sending only Cheol-ya again? That man is human too! Just because he’s survived the purgatory several times doesn’t mean he’s immortal!”
“Then are you volunteering, sir? Who else are we supposed to send? You’ve got plenty to say, but no alternatives to offer!”
Cheol-ya. If they sent him, the outbreak would be sealed—but his soul would keep breaking a little more each time. They also had to consider failure. Besides, Cheol-ya, who had risen to Transcendence, was not someone whose value could be thrown away so lightly on a failure like this.
But the headquarters’ dilemma always ran in the same circle: if they didn’t send someone, the world rotted; if they did, a hero died.
“Then what do you want us to do? You go!”
“What’d you say, bastard? You trying to start something?”
The air in the meeting hall grew hot, and someone’s temper ignited right along with it. Just as everyone’s internal energy began to surge and a fight was about to break out,
“Baedal-ui Hojok—delivery arrived!”
The packed boxes from Mugung Hyeoptak were delivered.
Sniff, sniff.
In one corner of the hall, a young official who had been buried under paperwork and deprived of sleep for days picked up one of the sandwiches.
The moment he peeled away the paper, the rich smell of butter and the sweet-salty scent of meat rose up and cut through the stale odor of the meeting hall.
Crunch.
The sound of biting into the bread rang out in the silent hall. As the juices spread through his mouth and the crisp bite of vegetables slid down his throat, the headache that had felt like an ice pick eased, just for a brief moment.
“It’s good...”
“This is calming.”
“This... this was from Mugung Hyeoptak, wasn’t it?”
Someone murmured the words. Mugung Hyeoptak—the strange restaurant in Xining that served Western food. Cheongryumun knew it, Jeokmyeonghoe knew it, and even the officials of the Righteous-Sects Headquarters knew it. The taste of that place, the one place that had treated them like human beings after they returned from blood-soaked scenes.
“It’s fine to keep checking each other, and it’s fine to tear down the Blood Cult’s altar and all that, but... for now, let’s eat first. We’re about to start biting each other before the enemy even does it for us.”
An elder from the righteous faction grumbled as he lifted a sandwich. Between bread and bread, there was another food hidden inside; in the same way, between one conflict and the next, food had been placed to serve as a buffer between them.
Maybe, in truth, it really had kept the headquarters from flying apart and ruining the peace of the martial world. In that sense, it might genuinely have been a strategy for preserving martial peace.
***
When Park, who had gone to Mugung Hyeoptak to deliver the food, returned, he came running up excitedly and shouted, “Yeonhwa! The great men at the Righteous-Sects Headquarters are in an uproar! They said the sandwiches were a miraculous stroke of genius and begged us to send them again for the next meeting!”
Yeonhwa smiled as she wiped clean a plate.
“See, Master? Even the view from Mount Geumgang is best enjoyed after a meal. Martial world peace? That’s not such a big deal. When people eat something delicious and get full, they stop wanting to fight.”
“The world isn’t ruled by blades alone. No matter how high those Righteous-Sects Headquarters bastards sit when they issue their orders, what really warms their insides is the cauldron of people like us. Now then, another order just came in! This time it’s Jeokmyeonghoe. They’ve actually started looking energetic lately. They’re going on reconnaissance near the purgatory, so prepare something high in calories!”
The Righteous-Sects Headquarters would again pick up its brush with a headache today.
It would write down someone’s name and register the order that sent someone else to the edge of death.
As her hands moved busily, Yeonhwa thought to herself:
We all survive by enduring our own headaches in our own places. Someone sheds blood, someone gives orders, and I fry onions. Right. Onions again. Sigh...
I’m crying...
Maybe heroes are the ones who save the world, but the thing that actually gets those heroes moving is the kitchen that serves the food. And the one who serves that food from the kitchen is me, and the eyes that water from the onions are mine...
On that precarious balance, another day in the martial world went rolling on. And at Mugung Hyeoptak, the Baedal-ui Hojok jade plaque rang once more.
---