Go in Peace
After roughly staunching the wound in my abdomen, I turned my head.
“Yi Do.”
It was Yi Won.
“Yes.”
“...You've been through a great deal. Are you all right?”
“I'll manage for now, Elder Brother.”
“Good. Then speak.”
“Leave the cleanup here to the Woon Clan and return to Jangryeong Commandery with the Yi Clan's warriors only.”
“...You don't intend for us to stay any longer?”
“No, sir.”
Yi Won's expression shifted in a peculiar way.
“...Do you actually trust us?”
I answered with a faint smile.
Trust you? Absolutely not.
“There is only one principle you need to remember.”
“A... principle?”
“You may take whatever you like behind my back. But the things I want, the things I ask for, my requests — those must be honored. By any means necessary. Do you understand?”
“I understand perfectly. We've come this far together, have we not? Surely you don't think I'd forget.”
That was enough.
“Take every elixir stored at the Sang Cloud Merchant Group that is thirty years old or more. One or two of those you may keep for yourself — I won't say a word. Just bring back every last one without exception.”
“Understood. Worry not.”
And so Yi Won scraped up every single elixir sitting in the Sang Cloud Merchant Group.
Regrettably, none of them could hold a candle to the hundred-year ginseng.
From what I heard, several hundred-year ginseng roots had been sitting out in the open among the treasures meant for the Kingdom of Yan.
A pang of regret lingered — if only I had searched that warehouse a little longer that day — but what's past is past.
With the elixirs secured, we returned to the Yi Clan estate.
I did everything I could to recover from my wounds inside the carriage.
A full day passed before we finally made it back to the Yi Clan.
And an unexpected guest was waiting.
I pushed open the carriage door and stepped out.
There stood Jang Un-ryong, grinning from ear to ear.
“So you finally deign to arrive.”
I silently surveyed my surroundings.
How should I put it — like thieves in an empty house.
Their numbers...
Roughly two hundred.
The Yi Clan estate had been occupied outright.
“You never imagined this would happen when you made light of our Jang Clan, did you?”
“...”
“Fools. When trouble stirs within your own clan, you ought to have kept an eye on the outside world as well.”
Jang Un-ryong drew his sword.
“Surrender at once. Do so, and I may see fit to spare your life.”
It was so absurd that I burst out laughing.
The clock turned back one day.
Lady Sang had fed Yi Se-geuk poison, and Yi Se-geuk had collapsed.
Afterward, she summoned physicians and had him carried to his chamber, doing her utmost to clamp every mouth shut along the way — but such a thing could never be easy.
At precisely this point, the Jang Clan and the Hyeokli Clan learned that calamity had struck within the Yi Clan.
And without a word needing to be said between them, the two clans moved in perfect unison.
Jang Mak-su, patriarch of the Jang Clan, and Hyeokli Wonpyeong, patriarch of the Hyeokli Clan, sent letters to one another.
They proposed meeting at once.
With every moment counting, their letters — each urging an immediate meeting — arrived at nearly the same instant, and the two men arranged a secret conference in the blink of an eye.
“Trouble has erupted within the Yi Clan. Unless my ears deceive me, Lord Hyeokli, you too have been eyeing their trading companies and their coffers.”
Hyeokli Wonpyeong saw no need to deny it.
“Since we see eye to eye, there is no need for long speeches. What say we bring down the Yi Clan now and split them between us?”
“Hmm...”
“Come now, Lord Hyeokli. I know well how cautious you are, but this is an opportunity that will never come twice. Frankly — have you not been waiting for just such a chance all this time?”
“You're not wrong.”
“Then why hesitate? The Three Great Clans of Jangryeong — I confess I have never cared for that phrase. Two clans to rule Jangryeong Commandery. That is enough.”
A fishy smile crept across Jang Mak-su's lips.
“Jang Clan and Hyeokli Clan — let us join hands and soar high into the heavens together.”
Patriarch Hyeokli gave a slow nod.
And so the two men shook hands.
There was, in truth, hardly a plan to speak of.
They need only lead their clans' warriors in a surprise assault upon the Yi Clan.
Having sworn their resolve, each man returned to his own estate — and it was here that a small complication arose.
Hyeokli Wonpyeong thought better of it.
He was already a man of extreme caution by nature, and a move this large demanded an even greater one.
Even if the Jang Clan swallowed the Yi Clan whole, digesting all of it in one sitting would be beyond them.
If he was ever going to move, that would be the moment to do it.
And so the Hyeokli Clan withdrew.
The Jang Clan moved regardless.
They mobilized every warrior in the clan and stormed the Yi Clan estate.
They killed the few stewards who remained, along with a handful of servants and ordinary martial artists.
The bulk of the Yi Clan's strength had already departed for the Sang Cloud Merchant Group anyway,
so the occupation was swiftly completed.
Jang Mak-su, patriarch of the Jang Clan, made his way in silence toward the patriarch's chamber.
There he found Yi Se-geuk, lying as still as a corpse.
He approached the man's side.
Seen up close like this, it was truly a pitiable sight.
“Lord Yi, can you hear my voice?”
“...Ghh... ngh...”
“I see you can. My, my. Whatever possessed you to reach so far beyond your station and invite disaster like this?”
“...”
“Had you simply settled the matter of your heir in advance, none of this would have come to pass.”
The Jang Clan had moved faster than anyone could have imagined.
And they had no choice — they had rehearsed this, over and over, well in advance.
That trouble would erupt within the Yi Clan had long been a foregone conclusion.
However he turned it over in his mind, it was bound to happen.
The eldest and second sons were fast approaching their mid-twenties — an age at which most men had long since married — and yet neither had even been named young patriarch?
Truly.
“How could you fail to foresee this future? With two trading companies clutched in your fist, did you truly feel as though you owned the whole world?”
In Yi Se-geuk's bloodshot eyes, the grinning face of Jang Mak-su was reflected.
“All of this, Lord Yi, is of your own making.”
So saying, Jang Mak-su began to search the chamber at his leisure.
After a long while, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
Carrying it back, he settled down beside Yi Se-geuk once more.
“Now then... what on earth might be written in the Yi Clan's ledgers?”
Jang Mak-su paged through the ledger at his ease.
Turning each leaf slowly, offering the occasional thoughtful “hmm,” he eventually hit upon something dubious and turned to Yi Se-geuk.
“Lord Yi, I ask in genuine curiosity — what in the world is this entry here?”
“...”
“I run a few trading companies of my own, a few smithies, a few inns besides, and even by my standards, this ledger looks... terribly strange.”
There was no need to look far. Exactly one thing stood out.
“'Material Expenses.' What is this supposed to be? Surely not the cost of provisions — and this amount... it's no joke, is it?”
Among the Three Great Clans of Jangryeong, the Hyeokli Clan held the greatest martial strength, with the Jang Clan second.
The Yi Clan fell far behind both in raw power.
But they were rich.
“...Every single month, this 'Material Expenses' line devours five hundred silver taels or more... hoh... how much does this come to in total?”
Time was the one thing he had in abundance, so he worked through the ledger from the very first page, calculating as he went.
“...The words won't come. In silver alone, roughly one hundred thousand taels... and since one gold tael is worth twenty silver, that would be five thousand gold taels...? Lord Yi, have you lost your mind? What on earth is it that costs the clan five thousand gold taels in material expenses?”
Yi Se-geuk could not answer.
Such was the potency of the Danhon Madok.
Fury at the situation itself was the only emotion left for him to express.
“Hmm... well, I shall look into that in due course. You've been through a great deal.”
It had been a long while since Yi Won and the Yi Clan's forces had departed the Sang Cloud Merchant Group, but word had come that they were traveling slowly and resting often — they would likely be arriving about now.
Just as Jang Mak-su rose from his seat—
KRA-KOOM—!!
The door to the chamber burst apart, and a man came flying through. He tumbled head over heels before coming to a stop at Jang Mak-su's feet.
The moment Jang Mak-su confirmed what — no, who — it was, he reeled back in shock.
“Un... Un-ryong!”
It was Jang Un-ryong, second son of the Jang Clan.
A lump of blood and flesh, he wheezed and gurgled.
“...Merciful heavens...”
His horror was only natural.
Jang Un-ryong's eyes had been carved out, his four limbs shattered, and blood poured in torrents from his lower abdomen, where his dantian should have been.
He had clearly been run through by a blade.
Someone raised their head.
Short, tied-back hair entered his field of vision.
...It was Yi Do.
“You... you did this to him?!”
Yi Do gave a dry laugh.
“Then who else would have?”
“...You wretch... I swear I will kill you here and now.”
“Anyone can make empty promises. But—”
He could see Jang Mak-su swiftly drawing his sword. He ignored it and continued.
“I never imagined you would shower me with so many gifts long before my birthday.”
“...Gifts?”
“You're handing the entire Jang Clan over to me, are you not?”
“...You deranged bastard...”
“My gratitude is so immense that, as a special courtesy, I shall send you off without pain.”
At that moment,
Jang Mak-su's eyes dropped to Yi Do's abdomen.
It was red.
And the redness was slowly spreading.
He was certainly wounded.
A wound of that severity should have made even walking difficult — it surprised him, a little.
But that was all.
Jang Mak-su kicked off the ground.
The Jang Clan fought with the sword.
Its art was called the Secret Phoenix Sword Art — a technique that unfurled every hidden blade at once like a phoenix taking wing, a martial art of no small renown.
Was it not this very art that had carried the Jang Clan's eldest son into the Imperial Sword Sect?
And yet.
Jang Mak-su flinched.
In the instant of battle, such a reaction meant certain defeat.
But it was understandable.
Yi Do's eyes were wrong.
They were stained red through and through — and so were both of his hands.
Yi Do raised his left hand.
As though slotted into place, Jang Mak-su's sword was suddenly in Yi Do's grip.
Tang.
The sound rang out like thunder.
He could not comprehend it. How?
In the next instant, Yi Do's hand closed around Jang Mak-su's throat.
“W-wait— just—”
It meant nothing.
CRUNCH—!
Jang Mak-su's neck tore apart. Blood sprayed in every direction.
His head dropped; his body slumped lifelessly to the floor.
Jang Mak-su was dead — no further words needed.
Yi Do's breath came in ragged gasps.
Blood was flowing from his abdomen in even greater volume now, and his arms trembled uncontrollably.
The overload had arrived.
He showed nothing.
Had he been the sort to collapse under something like this, he would never have earned the title of Mad Sovereign in the first place.
Yi Do had lived every moment of his life like this.
He simply walked on.
The red drained from his eyes and hands, returning them to normal.
Regripping Jang Mak-su's sword, he brought it down.
CRUNCH!
The blade buried itself in the throat of Jang Un-ryong, who had been one breath from death.
Even then, Yi Do walked on slowly.
He spoke, unhurried.
“The hierarchy of your clan was clearly in ruins. I hear you trained near enough every day — training is all well and good, but you should have disciplined your own house first.”
“...Cough.”
“I helped you, and helped you again — and look at the state of things.”
Hope kindled in the bloodshot eyes of Yi Se-geuk, who had been watching Yi Do all the while.
He could survive.
Thanks to the youngest, he might yet rise from this seat.
But that hope was for nothing — at the words that left Yi Do's mouth, Yi Se-geuk's eyes went wide.
“The timing was the only problem. I already knew Lady Sang intended to poison you.”
Yi Do settled down at Yi Se-geuk's side and continued in silence.
“The Danhon Madok. A truly remarkable poison — one that hardly exists anywhere in the murim... I never imagined she would actually manage to procure it.”
“...”
“I did consider sparing you. Whether you acknowledged me or not, you were still my father in the end. There is such a thing as blood ties, so I had resolved to be as generous as I could manage. And what did I get in return?”
“...”
“You took the Heavenly Flower Pavilion from me the moment I brought it under my hand. When I asked for the hundred-year ginseng you promised, you refused. If I saved you now, the same thing would simply repeat itself, over and over.”
“..N...no...”
“I gave you plenty of chances. You know that.”
“...”
“You see, the Danhon Madok was one of the punishments once meted out to those guilty of sins that could never be washed away. The senses of the four limbs fade, the dantian shatters — one cannot so much as twitch, and yet the mind remains perfectly clear. Only after enduring a heart-rending agony for more than a month may one finally find rest. You never gave me anything, but even so — so that your final road may be painless — I shall offer you one gift.”
Yi Do's hand came to rest over Yi Se-geuk's heart.
“The Jang Clan attacked the Yi Clan and killed its patriarch. Yi Won will become clan head as of today, and the Jang Clan will be absorbed into the Yi Clan. It will not take long for all of Jangryeong Commandery to fall into my hands.”
Slowly, he fed his inner energy into him.
Rising and rising.
Blood burst ceaselessly from Yi Se-geuk's mouth.
“You likely won't live to see it. You should have kept a cleaner heart, Father.”
Yi Se-geuk's hand seized Yi Do's arm.
One last flicker of the flame.
Yi Do brushed the arm away as though it were a mere annoyance, and spat out the words as if tossing them aside.
Before long,
Yi Se-geuk's head fell.