The Byeok Clan
What happens when a bomb detonates at close range?
A searing flash bursts first. Then the blast wave rips through the space, and razor-edged iron shrapnel rains in every direction.
In short, it shreds you from eyes and ears outward through the rest of your body—that is the power of a gunpowder bomb.
"Ilhong!"
I instinctively yanked Ilhong—our weakest—into my arms.
I'd volunteered to be a meat shield, yet no flesh-crushing pressure or metal fragments ever came. The bomb only spat an ear-splitting roar and a blinding flash; its killing power seemed remarkably low.
Yeah, more like a flashbang than a grenade.
And while everyone froze like statues in shock, the boy who'd produced the iron sphere bolted like lightning.
"Th-that bastard's running!"
"Catch him!"
But the direction he fled was strange. Not toward the inn entrance—straight at us. The boy dove under our overturned table amid the chaos.
"Vagabond Big Sis! You're the Minor Tiger Blade who escorted our family back then, right?!"
He clearly knew Jo Harang and shouted her old moniker from her vagabond days.
"Who are you… Wait—the little kid from the Byeok Clan?"
Jo Harang recognized him too. Still clutching the chicken leg she'd been holding since before the bomb went off, she stared at the boy with wide, startled eyes.
"Help us! Those people are pure villains!"
The boy pointed at the sword-wielding pack charging with murderous intent and pleaded.
Jo Harang seemed torn, glancing between the chicken leg in her fist and the oncoming men. The place was wrecked—nowhere to set it down, and fighting while holding it risked blood spatters. Her expression was pure dilemma.
"…This is ridiculous. Give it here. I'll hold it."
Still face-down, I just stretched out an arm and solved the wildcat's absurd crisis.
"Thanks!"
"Don't mention it."
She yanked free her massive greatsword and charged out.
This body of mine also houses a gluttonous Heavenly Killing Star with terrible meal efficiency. I bit straight into the sauce-soaked chicken leg. Salty and delicious.
But why has it been so warm in my arms since earlier?
Clang!
Her heavy greatsword cleaved the air and swatted three flying blades aside at once. The swords couldn't withstand the immense force and shattered. Then the wind pressure from her blade swept the approaching pack like a typhoon.
"Kugh!"
"…Who the hell is this woman?!"
The pursuers halted at the sudden appearance of a serious master. Apparently they'd been told it was just "grab one kid." They reformed ranks, exchanging hesitant glances.
Best to avoid unnecessary fights if possible. Especially for the innkeeper looking utterly devastated over there.
So Jo Harang briefly manifested Saber Force to make the realm gap crystal clear. When that ferocious energy—seemingly impenetrable even by sword qi—condensed vividly on her greatsword, the men's faces went black.
"Damn it… She's a grandmaster."
"Why would a martial artist of that caliber suddenly pop out of an inn…?"
We hadn't planned on popping out either. Inns are just naturally chaotic, ever-changing places.
"Stand down, vagabond!"
"This isn't your business to meddle in!"
"How dare a murim person interfere in official matters!"
They must have recognized the vagabond plaque Jo Harang had worn at her waist since her wandering days, snarling for her to get lost.
"Quit barking and just come at me."
The Purple Micro Star, which can see through human karma and distinguish black from white, muttered in a chilling voice.
Looks like they'd been judged black. Then she shows zero mercy. Against the wicked, Jo Harang is no different from the Evil-Slaying Goddess.
"For now… we withdraw."
"Hey you—Jo Harang, was it? You'll regret this."
"We'll see about that…"
Unable to challenge a master estimated at least Transcendental Peak Realm, they chose strategic retreat. They streamed out of the inn, faces bitter, repeatedly promising they'd be back.
With the uproar settled, silence and calm returned to the Soso Inn.
Well, not completely quiet. The innkeeper's sobs carried from not far away.
"B-Boss…"
Once the danger seemed past, Ilhong called me in a crawling voice.
"Yeah, what?"
Her voice trembled oddly—her nape was slightly flushed.
"L-Let go… please…"
"Huh? Oh, right."
She has no regeneration, being an ordinary person, so I'd reflexively flung myself over her. Result: Ilhong had been held in my arms in that awkward position the whole time.
"I was protecting you."
"I know. That's why I stayed quiet…"
She answered, flushed red as her name "Hong," thoroughly cooked. She awkwardly extricated herself and caught her breath.
Then a callused woman's hand thrust into my field of vision.
"Meat."
A gesture reclaiming what she'd entrusted.
"What? It's gone, you idiot."
"…!"
Jo Harang's face of utter betrayal. The exact expression I'd worn when Hwang Geolgae found out about the Purple Micro Star. Serves you right.
"My chicken leg?!"
"In the wild, if you let your guard down, you lose your prey."
"You bastard…! Is Beijing the wilderness to you? Huh?"
"There's a human-shaped wildcat right in front of me. Of course it's the wild."
"Aargh, seriously!"
Jo Harang stomped her feet in rage.
Anyway, table and food ruined, blood spilled, and the inn kitchen wrecked—mealtime's over for today.
"…Minor Tiger Blade Big Sis!"
One of the chaos's ringleaders. The boy urgently called Jo Harang's moniker.
"A request—I want to make a named request! Please help our Byeok Clan!"
A named request singling out one vagabond.
I nudged the shoulder of Ilhong, who'd been hanging her head beside me, and asked.
"Hey, what's the Byeok Clan do?"
"…Boss, you remember the Great Thunderbolt Bombs the Blood Cult used, and the Tiny Thunderbolt Bombs I threw in the cave?"
"Yeah, I remember."
Those mini-bombs in the cave chasing the Human-Faced Spider—weak, but enough to jolt the mind and break a strange curse.
"They specialize in manufacturing those cannons, black-powder weapons, and Thunderbolt Bombs, then supplying them to the Court. That's the Byeok Clan."
"Aha."
An imperial-certified demolition crew, huh. No wonder an iron sphere just popped out of his clothes. Black-powder weapons are a headache if the Court finds out you've used them, so you can only deploy them in places like the Southern Barbarian lands where imperial reach doesn't extend, or somewhere with no fallout.
"Sorry, I can't take your request right now."
"No, Big Sis. Why…?"
Meanwhile Jo Harang was refusing the boy.
"I've got a boss who handles that sort of thing separately now."
Looking troubled, she shook her head and pointed at me. The boy gaped at me, shocked that a young man like me commanded a Transcendental Peak Realm master as a subordinate. The Byeok Clan boy seemed pretty clueless about the world.
"Um, who are you…?"
Who am I.
The employer who works the great Divine Wind Saber Jo Harang—and the Purple Micro Star—for free and steals her meat.
"Beijing's finest troubleshooter."
Dog-Beating Dragon Dan Mujin.
Summer's lushness filled the garden of the Princess's Palace.
Among the blooming plants and flowers, the Third Princess and the Imperial Consort—two noble imperial women—leisurely sipped tea and chatted.
The Third Princess's face was somewhat stiff with worry over the rapidly shifting palace situation, while Imperial Consort Ma elegantly enjoyed the fragrance of tea leaves amid the flowerbeds.
Softly fluttering lashes, gently curved eyes, and a refined air that belied the years—this was none other than Imperial Consort Ma Juyeong, the woman the Son of Heaven currently favored and cherished most.
"Ju Eoyang, raise your head."
And as the birth mother of the Third Princess and Third Prince, one of the few who could casually call her name alongside the Emperor. Savoring her tea, the Imperial Consort looked at her raised-headed daughter with affectionate eyes.
"So lovely. Yet such a child still isn't married—what are we to do?"
"…"
That's not important right now—we need to be wary of the Empress and Second Prince's spreading schemes.
She wanted to cry that out, but seeing her mother's face purely fretting over her daughter's marriageable age melted her will away. Saying such things would only add worry to that pure face—what point would it serve?
She'd always been like this. And thus her children had grown upright, surrounded by love. She could handle these anxiety-filled palace intrigues from the shadows herself. The Third Princess steeled that firm resolve inwardly.
"Your Majesty the Imperial Consort."
"Oh my, what's with that stiff title? Call me Mother."
"…"
Palace etiquette she'd kept rigorously so subordinates couldn't find fault. Yet the Imperial Consort still spoke so casually. But unable to win against her mother's eyes, the daughter had to call her that.
"Mother, what sort of conversations have you been having with His Majesty lately?"
Amazingly, her mother lived closest to that unfathomable Emperor and knew his intentions best. Princess Dohwa carefully asked to probe his mind.
"Hmm, him? Lately he talks a lot about beggars. He issued a decree recently allowing Beggar Sect members free entry, didn't he?"
"Yes, that's right. Someone asked me to petition for it."
The Imperial Consort sent an intrigued look, curious about that "someone." But the Third Princess deliberately ignored it and continued.
"So no other topics—he's only interested in the Beggar Sect folks?"
"Yes, that's right. His curiosity about beggars seems to have flared up again."
"…Mother, 'again'?"
The Imperial Consort propped her chin, sinking into thought as if recalling old memories.
"Long ago he took an interest in some old beggar… One day he came back fuming that he'd lost at baduk. It was so amusing."
She elegantly smiled while crunching the snacks on the table.
"But why such interest in beggars? The highest person, toward the lowest."
"He's always… someone whose thoughts and actions you can't pin down."
Wasn't that why she was bound to the palace and jerked around? The Third Princess answered with a sigh.
"Oh my, dear. Not particularly. His thoughts are surprisingly easy to know. And he listens well to me. Of course usually just small talk."
Meaning he paid more attention to her chatter than to tedious, complex state affairs. The Third Princess knew this well. Wasn't that why the Empress's jealousy and wariness had surged so high?
With the Emperor's affection directed at the Imperial Consort and the Crown Prince's death nearly upon them, was there anyone more threatening to the Empress than them?
"Ah, right. Try this. It's a Western Regions date called 'dazao'—sweeter than dried persimmons and quite delicious."
Trade goods first presented to the Emperor, which had also entered her palace this time. The Imperial Consort casually offered food without the slightest suspicion. Seeing that, the Third Princess recalled recent events and wore a complicated expression.
"…Mother, did you have it inspected?"
"Hmm? Inspected? What do you mean?"
Innocent, one might say. Even as greed for power, murderous intent, and killing hearts swirled through the palace, such a harmless reaction. Perhaps the Emperor, sick of the palace, found comfort in that aspect of Mother.
A pure woman who couldn't scheme even in dreams. In the palace, none rarer.
"Even if His Majesty sent it, I'd prefer it went through a poison taster once."
"You've been worrying a lot lately. Things His Majesty sends are fine."
Whereas her daughter hadn't grown purely and was full of worries and cares.
"Even if His Majesty has no such intention, poison could seep in while it passes through many servants' hands."
The palace is a place where many gather to support the high and mighty. Everything the imperial family wears and eats passes through servants' hands, so the imperial family must conversely be wary of them. Last time some man had helped prevent a poisoning, but there was no guarantee next time.
The Third Princess mentioned the recent unpleasant incident and explained this part at length. And even added that the Empress was suspected as the mastermind.
"Oh my, what a dreadful story. Even so, would the Empress go that far…? Her eyes have been rather sharp lately, though."
The Imperial Consort's eyes went round with surprise. Having touched the palace's darkness, she spoke with a slightly uneasy face.
"I just wanted to say you should take better care of yourself. As your daughter."
Knowing this sort of answer would come, the Third Princess spoke words to soothe the unease. Someone with the exact opposite nature of the insidious Empress. If this were some quiet region's great clan, she might have lived a rather happy life.
But the current imperial house was no different from a demon's den where power-hungry black wolves and jackals lurked. To protect her younger brother the prince here, and keep Mother safe as well—
I have to keep my wits about me.
She at least had to raise her guard high and scan every direction with suspicious eyes. Otherwise the Empress and her faction might literally wipe them out root and branch. She had read in countless history books the ends of imperial family members who lost power struggles.
"Oh, and he said he'd like to see everyone's faces for once after a long while. Maybe hold a garden banquet around the cool autumn?"
The Emperor heating up the powder-keg palace then casually summoning everyone for a face-to-face, and the Imperial Consort taking it at face value.
"…Yes, I'll prepare for it."
A garden banquet where all the high and mighty gather in one place. It seemed the perfect stage for something to happen.
And so, to prepare for it, Princess Dohwa quietly pictured the face of a certain reliable man.