Preparations for the Royal Hunt
On the road leaving eventful Mount Song for Beijing, I sat in a carriage we had hitched a ride on and turned over everything that had happened these past few days.
"Beyond Heaven. Beings who have stepped outside the sky itself."
Song Ryeong had casually dropped that cryptic scrap of information about the baleful stars. Chin propped in my hand, I let the rattling of the carriage rock me into thought.
"Don't tell me Ilwol was one of them too?"
The mysterious Daoist I had never so much as laid eyes on—someone I only ever heard about from Hwang Geolgae's mouth. Looking back, no ordinary master could have casually invented a heart method that nourishes and accumulates the power of the stars. I nodded to myself, as if that settled it.
"Mujin, what's Ilwol?"
Jo Harang leaned in from the seat beside me, arm pressed snug against mine, eyes bright with curiosity.
"…It's just a thing that exists."
I brushed her off. The reason Hwang Geolgae had taken me as a disciple instead of killing me was probably, in no small part, the existence of the Seongun Simbeop.
"Excuse me, but are you truly Dog-Beating Dragon Dan Mujin?"
The merchant driving up front twisted around to ask. When we first ran into him, I had given him my moniker and casually flashed pure-white sword qi; he had let us aboard without a second thought.
"Yes, I am the peerless troubleshooter, Dog-Beating Dragon Dan Mujin. Sounds like you've heard of me."
I scratched the bridge of my nose and preened a little. My nickname seemed to be spreading all over the Central Plains these days. To think someone would recognize me and get excited this far from Beijing. Maybe I owed the Beggar Sect disciples who were blanketing the whole of the Central Plains with my reputation.
"Of course I've heard of you! I'm a merchant from Sichuan, and there isn't a soul there who hasn't heard the story of the young hero who boldly smashed straight through the main gate of the Dang Clan!"
This body's fame, after peaking in Beijing, seemed to have hit another peak in Sichuan. Fair enough—who else would charge head-on into the family that ruled Sichuan as its overlord without a single thought for the consequences? Only someone with a rock-solid backer like Dang Yeohye and the certainty that the clan head would scrape through by the skin of his teeth could pull off a stunt that grand.
"I heard you did something that reckless because you were trying to win a woman of the Dang Clan. Is that true, young hero?"
The merchant's eyes sparkled as he asked.
"…What? No. Absolutely not."
Those Dang Clan bastards—how the hell had they spun the rumor? Had the fake engagement I had forced at the start gotten twisted out of shape? Or maybe they had tried to hush up the family's dirty laundry and the story had simply mutated on its own.
"How romantic of you."
"I already said it wasn't."
I waved him off with a hollow laugh. Romantic, my ass. I had nearly wet myself fending off the swarm of Dang Clan martial artists.
"See? Our Mujin's overflowing with romance…"
And why was this one sulking again? For a woman who reduced everything around her to rubble the second she drew that greatsword of hers, she sure looked pouty.
"Hey, you already heard my explanation last time. You know that's not how it went."
After we had gone at each other as enemies at the Golden Dragon Academy, we had made up and I had explained everything separately. Or so I thought.
"Yeah, but still…"
Jo Harang stuck her lip out, still getting a weird feeling whenever she thought about it. Honestly, what a troublesome woman.
"Merchant, just drive a little faster, would you?"
This Sichuan merchant who kept spouting nonsense was the real problem. I flapped a hand at him to pick up the pace.
"Yes, sir. Understood."
The carriage rattled and rolled faster. Even after becoming a martial artist who could use lightness techniques, human nature still preferred standing to walking, and sitting to standing. For long-distance travel, nothing beat a carriage that moved itself.
And so, taking our time, we eventually made it back to Beijing. Ilhong, who had been holding down the office alone for quite a while, greeted us with a thoroughly haggard face—iron filings and black powder still caked on her hands, as if she had rushed out mid–thunder-bomb production to meet us.
"Ilhong, are you preparing for war or something…?"
I clicked my tongue at the sight that hit me the second I opened the office door. One corner of the room was piled high with finished thunder bombs. Once the gifted black-powder barrels ran dry, she had clearly gone as far as the Black Market and dug into her own funds for more. She even seemed to have commissioned a skilled blacksmith for iron casings.
"When your head's a mess, fiddling with something without thinking is the best medicine…"
Ilhong muttered through hollow eyes. We had come back nice and rested—so why did she look like this?
"Why's your head a mess?"
"Because… you two left me behind! Just the two of you! Just the twooo of you…!"
As if she had been waiting for the question, she raised her voice and poured out her grievances. Yeah. Better not dig any further.
Anyway, we reopened the office in Beijing. A small worry flickered through me that we might have lost potential clients while we were gone. A hitch in business would be a headache in more ways than one.
"Ilhong, did anyone come looking for me while we were away?"
"Nope? Not really."
She dusted black powder off her hands and delivered the gut punch. The people of the imperial capital still seemed to be watching the palace's face. Unsure whether getting involved with our office was safe, they had mostly stayed away. A few small merchants who did not need to worry about the palace had dropped by, she added—but the jobs paid nothing and did not look like they would accumulate much merit, so after hearing them out I decided to turn them down.
"Boss, back in the day you took every job that walked through the door, even from little kids."
Ilhong tilted her head, clearly surprised by the refusals. Jo Harang shrugged and piled on from the side.
"Well, Mujin's making money now. He's full."
"Right? That's what it looks like."
These little traitors. Employees badmouthing their own boss.
"I'm not full. I just didn't take vague, messy jobs."
Money not coming in was fine, but merit still had to pile up, didn't it? The requests had been things like "rough someone up" or "settle a money dispute between merchants." From my perspective, neither cash nor merit would stick—no reason to take them.
"If it's like this, better to look for jobs coming in from outside the palace's reach—out-of-town work."
If I wanted proper jobs, I might have to cast the net farther out. For that, I would need the Beggar Sect as a stepping stone. I had turned down the gold Princess Dohwa offered and brought them into Beijing instead; I figured I had earned the right to ask this much.
"Oh, right. There was one more person looking for you, Boss."
Ilhong snapped her fingers as if it had just come back to her.
"Oh? Who?"
A fish on a line I had not expected. I asked with a faint spark of hope.
"Master was looking for you. He said the second this guy gets back, send him straight to the training yard."
She pointed through the window toward the Eunseong Merchant Group.
"That old man wants me…?"
"More precisely, both you and Lady Jo Harang together… What's going on?"
Ilhong's question dragged the memories from before Mount Song back up. A certain wildcat who had barged through the office door, flung out a single "Sorry!", and bolted.
"Ahem."
"Urgh."
Jo Harang and I both made strangled noises at the same time.
"So what are we doing about this, wildcat?"
"I—mm. I said I was sorry…"
We had barely finished visiting the master of the Purple Micro Star, and now the two of us were about to face the master of the Heavenly Killing Star—the one whose fists always left his mouth in the dust.
"Hey, what is it? Don't leave me out. Tell me too."
"…It's just a thing that exists."
Lately everything seemed to revolve around the baleful stars. He had ordered me to come, but there was no way I was walking over like a good boy. I decided that for a while I would simply avoid the high-end distilleries, the inns, and the Eunseong Merchant Group.
Rustle. Softly.
Warm summer sunlight was slipping through the gap in the window when Cheon Su-gong began reviewing a report his subordinates had brought up first thing that morning. The handwriting was neat and orderly. The further he read, the harder his expression set—like stone.
"Byeok Jinsang, that fool. He finally went and caused a disaster."
It was not only the occupation of the Byeok Clan. While Byeok Jinsang had been clan head, a considerable quantity of thunder bombs appeared to have been smuggled out—an ominous report. And of all times, right before the autumn Imperial Hunt, when every member of the imperial family would be gathered. Cheon Su-gong's brow twitched faintly.
Decades of honed instinct as Director of the Eastern Depot sent up a warning flare. Something bad was coming. The fact that Dan Mujin had gotten tangled up in this affair only made it worse. Call it misfortune if you liked—whenever that brat was involved, every grim premonition came true to the letter.
"Empress… just what are you plotting?"
He tapped the desk with his fingers and cast his gaze into empty air. Beyond the window, his eyes traveled in sequence over the Eastern Palace and the Empress's Palace. Could anyone truly dare something at the Son of Heaven's own court? Then he remembered the recent attempt to poison Princess Dohwa, and a chill ran down his spine. Once people crossed a line, limits ceased to exist. The very disaster he feared might well come to pass.
"What am I supposed to do about this?"
Cheon Su-gong set the report down with a soft thud and let out a long breath. The deeper the Eastern Depot dug into the Byeok Clan incident, the more their meticulousness showed—and the harder solid evidence slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. The sole witness, Byeok Jinsang himself, had been found poisoned to death during transport.
"Vicious creatures."
Cheon Su-gong's eyes went cold and still. As far as he knew, the only force that could play games like this against the Eastern Depot was the Embroidered Uniform Guard. The very people who were supposed to be His Majesty's eyes and ears, involved in something that could threaten the Son of Heaven? It was beyond absurd—beyond words.
"Whatever scheme they're weaving, if anything goes wrong, this Imperial Hunt could end up soaked in blood."
It felt like standing before the harbinger of a great storm, ill omen rising hard and fast—
"Forgive me, Director Cheon, but… someone has come to see you, rather suddenly…"
A subordinate outside the door carefully announced a visitor. The embarrassment and helplessness in the man's voice made it clear this was a visit no one had scheduled.
"In times like these, who in the world is it?"
The head of the Eastern Depot was not someone you simply decided you wanted to see and then walked in on. Strict procedures were supposed to come first.
Creeeak.
"Director of Ceremonies. Have you been well? I simply wished to look upon your face after so long, and so I stopped by."
A refined noblewoman stepped in with a warm, familiar voice. The moment Cheon Su-gong confirmed who it was, he completely understood his subordinate's flustered reaction. Even His Majesty could not always rein this lady in—who in the Eastern Depot would dare block her path?
"…This humble servant, Cheon Su-gong, greets Her Highness the Imperial Noble Consort."
Imperial Noble Consort Ma Juyeong—mother of the Third Princess and Third Prince, and the object of the Son of Heaven's favor. In this palace of malice and suspicion, she alone seemed to live in a world of her own.
"I have heard you have been working hard of late protecting my daughter. This Imperial Noble Consort feels gratitude first and foremost."
She lifted a hand lightly to stop his full ceremonial bow and continued in a gentle tone.
"…I am unworthy. Please take back such gracious words."
Cheon Su-gong bowed his head even deeper. No one had ordered him to do it. In this demonic den of a palace, the only imperial who still felt fully human was Princess Dohwa. He had simply rushed about to protect her upright heart and principles.
"But, Your Highness… what business brings you to this place…?"
Cheon Su-gong spoke carefully. This was the heart of the Eastern Depot, where every secret and scheme intertwined. Even for an imperial, the usual course was to send someone and arrange a meeting elsewhere. That the Imperial Noble Consort had come in person was unexpected.
"I asked my daughter, and she told me there is no one who knows the affairs of the palace as well as you. In a year's time, the Son of Heaven will hold the banquet for the age of knowing Heaven's Mandate. It is a little early, but I came to seek your counsel so I may begin preparing a gift from now."
The age of knowing Heaven's Mandate. In the imperial household, whenever the Son of Heaven reached the capping age, the age of standing firm, or the age of freedom from confusion, they held grand court rites and banquets to pray for his longevity.
"I simply cannot grasp what he might like. Director Cheon, will you keep this lady company for a little while?"
In other words, she had come for counseling. Amid missing thunder bombs and an unfolding conspiracy, she wanted advice on a birthday gift for the Son of Heaven next year.
"Mm."
Cheon Su-gong let out a short sound. Then a thought struck him—this was perfect timing. He had been so worried about the Imperial Hunt that he had planned to seek her out himself.
"Your Highness, if it would not be improper… might this humble servant also make one request?"
When Cheon Su-gong carefully asked, the Imperial Noble Consort tilted her head with interest.
"Hmm. What sort of request? Speak."
"In truth, unsettled movements have been detected ahead of the Imperial Hunt several months from now. To protect Your Highness and the imperial family, I wish to summon one outsider. Would you grant your permission?"
Unlike the Princess's palace, where he could manage personnel as he pleased, bringing an outsider into an Imperial Hunt convened by the Son of Heaven's will required the Imperial Noble Consort's aid.
"Unsettled movements… If you say so, then it must be so. But can a single outsider stop them?"
"Ordinarily it would be difficult, but that hopeless brat of a—"
Cheon Su-gong nearly lost face, cleared his throat, and continued.
"Ahem. In any case, he may prove of great help."
The Imperial Noble Consort's lips curved slightly at the unexpected confidence in his tone.
"Oh? What manner of person could make you so determined to bring him in?"
"A troubleshooter of Beijing—one who once saved Princess Dohwa's life."
After that incident the brat had claimed that because of his master he could no longer get involved with the imperial family. Once you stick your hand into palace business, boy, that is not your decision to make.
Cheon Su-gong bowed his head and quietly spoke three syllables of a certain name before the Imperial Noble Consort.