The Talk of Chang'an (2)
"The Heavenly Demon's teachings are not instructions on how to become a demon—they are instructions that make one a demon. Because we reject the gods, we naturally become demons," Cho Yak said.
"The gods and heavens that fools speak of are always absolute and eternal, yet both absolutes and eternities are illusions. Therefore, the living must cast off the shackles of illusion and follow the life they themselves feel—that is the teaching of the first Heavenly Demon Patriarch. It is the reason the Demonic Cult calls itself the Demonic Cult."
The answer was surprisingly reasonable, and I found myself startled. I had expected something about the strong devouring the weak, but it seemed the Heavenly Demon Patriarch had been a man who dabbled in more than just martial arts—he had a touch of barnyard philosophy as well.
"Even so, don't people find it unsettling that some followers can't even read? It must hinder the spread of the cult's influence."
"We do not actively proselytize. While it is good when our numbers grow, if we become obsessed with expanding our influence and organizing the sect, we will eventually come to regard ourselves as order itself. That, too, is something to guard against," the Patriarch said.
The more I listened, the more appealing it sounded. Do not submit to authority. Find the value in your own life and live freely. What a fine teaching. Within the cult, they did not discriminate by age or rank; everyone lived as sworn brothers and sisters. They avoided reckless proselytizing and denied the existence of absolutes, so there could be no fanatics. There were no pointless formalities or restrictions either. I found myself thinking that perhaps I should take up a religion myself.
"Still, shouldn't you at least pay some attention to appearances? Honestly, before I met you, all I knew of the Demonic Cult came from wuxia novels. I thought you were all madmen who indulged in orgies and drugs while committing murder every single day."
Cho Yak fell silent and slowly lowered her gaze. Wondering what she was looking at, I followed her eyes, but all that lay there was a half-empty bowl from an ancient place.
"Why have you suddenly gone quiet?"
"W-well, we do not forbid orgies or drugs. The Heavenly Demon Patriarch said we must not deny our own pleasures and desires… Still, murder is a misunderstanding. Killing fellow cult members is strictly prohibited."
"Ah… I see."
In other words, killing those who were not cult members was not strictly forbidden. Along with any thought of becoming a religious person, I quietly set aside any intention of ever visiting the Demonic Cult's main headquarters on Tianshan.
Now that I thought about it, Cho Yak was a lifelong Demonic Cult member who had never even crossed Lanzhou. Considering how we first met, she must have killed a few people in the line of duty… Without thinking, I asked, "Then you, Cho Yak, have you also… that…?"
With that appearance, surely not? Well, at twenty-seven she was long since an adult, but still…
"Pardon?"
Cho Yak looked up at first with a puzzled expression, meeting my eyes. After mulling over the meaning of my words, her pale face flushed crimson. Before I could say another word, she spoke first.
"I have not."
Her tone was firm.
"Er… well, but…"
"We do not forbid it, but we do not force it either. Many choose not to."
"…"
"…The Great Demon once tried it once after being urged to. That was the end of it."
So that was how it was. Trust was important when getting to know someone. Separately from that, I renewed my resolve never to set foot in the Demonic Cult's main headquarters on Tianshan, no matter what.
* * *
The next day, we left the inn rather late, around lunchtime, rather than early in the morning. The reason, as usual, was Cho Yak's owlish constitution. She had asked to be woken even if it meant pounding on the door, but seeing her sleeping so soundly, I simply could not bring myself to do it. Since I had thought of a manuscript I needed to send to Jo Jae-ui, I simply occupied a seat on the first floor of the inn and wrote until Cho Yak woke.
"I really cannot understand what is so interesting that so many onlookers have gathered."
"It is understandable."
Cho Yak's lips curled ever so slightly. It was her version of a smile, but it would be difficult for anyone but someone quite close to her to recognize it as such.
"To them, it must seem remarkable that a young lady of thirteen or fourteen, sword at her waist, has been writing characters without pause for over two hours."
Put that way, it did seem rather curious. I grumbled, "Apparently none of those many people could read. From now on, I suppose I shall have to recite the contents aloud while writing. If they had realized I was only writing pulp fiction and not some grand poem or policy essay, they would have scattered and spared me the trouble."
Thanks to the curiosity I had aroused, it took considerable effort just to leave the inn. I had slipped out using a crude concealment art, fearing someone might follow if I simply walked out, but attempting something I had never done in my life resulted in a spectacle so ridiculous that even a master of stealth would have died laughing—or perhaps suffocated from trying not to.
Cho Yak's lips curled a little higher.
"They might have mistaken you for a professional storyteller and gathered even more, tossing coins your way. More than anything, the way you write and the style of your calligraphy would make even a warehouse ledger look like a famous calligrapher showing off."
Receiving such excessive flattery naturally made my cheeks burn. To hide my embarrassment, I replied in a rather brusque tone.
"Enough. Flattery only sounds plausible when spoken by someone who is good at it. Hearing it from you, who never flatters, only makes it hard to listen."
"I was not speaking empty words. Besides, though you call it troublesome, I was truly fortunate."
"And why is that?"
"Because this is the first time I have been useful while traveling with you, Sister."
It was something I had only learned while escaping the inn: contrary to her usual demeanor, Cho Yak was quite skilled at concealment arts. Given her work as a messenger, that was only natural. Thanks to her, we had indeed escaped the inn safely, but since the process had been thoroughly unamusing for me, I felt the need to object.
"So you have been waiting for me to fall into trouble, Cho Yak?"
"Of course not. Still, if you must find yourself in difficulty, I would prefer it to be a difficulty I can help with."
"I did not know that. Now that I see it, you have quite a way with words yourself, Cho Yak."
"Thank you."
Feeling incredulous, I turned to look at her, but Cho Yak seemed to have taken it as a genuine compliment. Somehow, I felt ashamed of my own pettiness and simply walked on in silence.
Since Chang'an's well-maintained grid of streets made it impossible to get lost, we soon arrived at our destination. It was not right next to the inn district, but neither was it far; truthfully, nowhere in Chang'an was truly far from here.
"That must be it."
"It appears so."
In the central street beside the Bell Tower—the most expensive land within Chang'an's walls—a two-story building had been constructed on a grand scale, as though cost were no concern. It stood out conspicuously. The ceiling height was far too great to be practical for residence, and if it were meant for storage, there would have been no need for such elaborate windows and roofing. It was simply a building meant for people to gather.
No banner hung outside. It would only have marred the aesthetics. From the beginning, only one place in the world could afford such luxury. Above the tall gate hung a plaque bearing the elegant calligraphy: Chang'an Gold Tripod Hall.
Without hesitation, I stepped inside.
* * *
When it came to information in the Central Plains, the first name that came to mind was the Beggar's Union. Beggars were everywhere, and though the Beggar's Union's history as information brokers was not ancient, it was certainly long. Thus, it was common sense that they were the most reliable source when one had questions about others' affairs.
However, that only held true when they were willing to accept you as a customer. The Beggar's Union was one of the Nine Great Sects, and while they did accept a modest "donation" for information, like the other orthodox sects they valued their identity and the principle of aiding others without expectation of reward. In short, without the right connections, a Beggar's Union branch was more likely to be nothing more than a beggars' den than an information broker.
Since Cho Yak agreed, we had abandoned any thought of visiting the Beggar's Union from the start. Yet beggars were not the only profession found everywhere. Merchants, too, rarely left a place unvisited. Unlike beggars, however, merchants were not united under a single alliance, so to hear their stories one had to go directly to where merchants gathered and make inquiries. And in this vicinity, there was no better place for merchants to gather than the Chang'an Gold Tripod Hall. That was an obvious fact.
So, what result did this perfectly reasonable decision bring?
"I do not feel alive. What about you, Cho Yak?"
"…Would it not have been better to simply pay one merchant and be done with it?"
"A fine idea. Except that it is already too late."
We had been thoroughly fleeced. Not that we had gained nothing. We had learned that Yu Baek had acquired the epithets Boy Sword Saint and Silver-Ming Prince, that he had raided a mountain stronghold and fought the Tang family's young master in a duel, and above all, that he was currently in Sichuan. But in exchange for these trivial pieces of information, we had spent eleven copper coins, eight iron coins, and nearly half a day. We had underestimated the merchants of Shaanxi.
Once it became clear what we wanted to know, they had colluded with nothing more than a glance. Had we not been martial artists whose patience appeared to be nearing its limit, they might have gone even further. More than the lost money or time, the fatigue was overwhelming. Vowing never again to create an opportunity for merchants to swindle even one more iron coin from me, I rose to my feet.
"Well, at least we know where he is… It is already late today, so tomorrow we can look for a carriage heading to Chongqing."
"I could go to the branch now and…"
"Do not. It is not urgent, and there is no need to trouble them."
If I did, I could already imagine the sort of things I would hear later. Cho Yak was more than enough Demonic Cult contact for me; I had not the slightest desire to become further entangled with the cult. Cho Yak looked somewhat dissatisfied, but she nodded nonetheless.
We had just finished speaking and were about to leave the hall when—
"Young lady! It is you, is it not? Hah, hah, heavens, I am dying. I finally found you. Where did you leave Jo Yeopgeum and Chief Manager Gong? Why are you traveling alone?"
A goat-bearded traveling merchant came running toward us, gasping as though he were about to die. It was Yang So-chang.