Chapter 72: Night in Beijing (2)
Chapter 72: Night in Beijing (2)
Peng Ik-cheon, the Six-Armed Rakshasa and Master of Sanyue Hall, was having another tedious day.
Inside the Mountain King Pavilion, most of the Peng Family elders were passing the time in their own ways—some practicing external arts (which involved doing calisthenics while standing on their heads for no apparent reason), others chatting (which mostly consisted of belittling each other's martial prowess).
Two elders, unable to bear the boredom, were even committing the eccentricity of playing a game of Go using nothing but telekinesis while hanging upside down from the ceiling beams.
It was a picture-perfect, ordinary day for the elders of the Great Hebei Peng Family.
Calling it a rather violent senior center would be a fairly accurate description.
"Hall Master…! Hall Master!"
"What is all this racket?"
Peng Ik-cheon frowned at the warrior who came bursting through the doors of the Mountain King Pavilion, though inwardly, he was delighted. He was at a point where he welcomed any kind of disturbance.
The man approaching was one of those responsible for delivering reports from the Outer Hall to Sanyue Hall.
As Peng Ik-cheon nodded, the warrior hurried over and leaned toward his ear.
"The Fourth Young Master has sent an urgent report."
"Wait."
In an instant, silence fell over the noisy hall.
Peng Ik-cheon realized his mistake and tried to silence the man, but it was too late. Every elder had stopped what they were doing and was staring at him, their eyes shifting in unison.
Every elder in this room was, at the very least, a master of the Super Peak Realm. This meant they possessed hearing sensitive enough to catch the sound of a falling leaf outside the doors. No matter how much the messenger lowered his voice, there was no way they hadn't heard him.
"Hand it over."
"Ye-yes, sir."
Peng Ik-cheon stopped speaking and took the brief written report.
Most of Sanyue Hall's operations were treated as family secrets. Since Peng Hyeon-hwi was currently acting as a bridgehead for the Hao Clan, his reports were classified as highly sensitive intelligence.
However, 'classified' was not enough to deter the curiosity of Super Peak masters who were killing time in the depths of boredom.
[- To Elder Peng Ik-cheon, Master of Sanyue Hall.]
[- Confirmed the presence of Sichuan Tang Family warriors at a secret location of the Eunuch Bureau near Xizhimen, Beijing.]
[- Circumstances indicate specific cooperation between the Tang Family and the Eunuch Bureau.]
[- Concerned about friction with the authorities in the event of an armed conflict.]
[- Requesting a show of force sufficient to pressure the Tang warriors into leaving Beijing.]
[- Respectfully, Peng Hyeon-hwi of Sanyue Hall.]
By the time Peng Ik-cheon finished scanning the letter and incinerated it with Samadhi True Fire, the elders gathered around him had already read every word.
"The Sichuan Tang Family?"
"Haha, those hicks from Western Shu dare show their faces in Beijing?"
"Ufufu. This timing couldn't be better."
The elders began to scatter, each practically vibrating with joy.
"Ugh."
Peng Ik-cheon pressed his fingers against his temples and let out a deep sigh.
Hyeon-hwi’s request was likely for a measured show of force, as openly antagonizing the Eunuch Bureau would be a headache in many ways. But these men…
"Why did you come all the way here instead of waiting at the hall?"
"I-it was marked as urgent, and I heard today’s elder meeting was scheduled to last late into the night…"
"Meeting? It’s just a bunch of idlers getting together for a drink. Tsk."
Of all things, today happened to be one of the twice-monthly scheduled drinking sessions.
Since those with heavy workloads, like Pavilion Lords or Hall Masters, generally didn't hold the title of Elder, everyone in this room was an idler with far too much time on their hands.
When Peng Ik-cheon returned to Sanyue Hall, he found all the elders huddled in front of the building, fully armed and yawning as if they were waiting for a show to start.
"Dammit."
He scratched his head vigorously. Then, deciding it might be for the best, he began to lead the way.
Every elder of the Hebei Peng Family’s Mountain King Pavilion sprinted toward Beijing, effectively hitting the 'Subscribe, Like, and Notification' buttons on the new content provided by their favorite nephew.
*
Generally, abandoned houses—or 'waste manors'—have a distinct smell.
Since almost ninety-nine percent of the buildings in this era are wooden, they are usually filled with the scent of moldy wood and drifting dust.
However, this manor was different.
There was a clear scent of habitation. The smell of human sweat and body odor, lamp oil, and even the stench of excrement wafting from what appeared to be the latrine.
Crouching atop the wall, I stepped slowly into the manor grounds.
It was a light step that would have been impossible with the Mountain King Step. I moved cautiously, muffling all sound by channeling the essence of the Seven Shadow Immortal Step.
Slight rustle.
The manor was submerged in darkness.
Slowly, careful not to make a sound, I drew my blade. The sensation of the metal sliding out of the scabbard felt cold.
As I gripped the sword and approached the door handle—
"Back already? Honestly. I told you to make some noise when you come in."
A voice spoke in a somewhat gruff tone.
I held my breath, gauging the distance of the voice from behind the door.
It wasn't far. But it was just far enough that I couldn't simply burst in and cut him down instantly.
For a commoner, that distance would be as good as nothing. I could close it the moment I saw him.
However, the person behind that door had faintly sensed my presence even from outside. That meant he was trained in martial arts.
If I opened the door, he would surely cause a commotion. I didn't know how many people were inside, but if I was discovered from the start in a place where a master of poison arts was hiding, my chances of success would plummet.
"Why aren't you coming in? I left it open."
"……."
Holding my breath, I tightened my grip on the hilt.
I felt my internal energy tingle as it surged through my acupoints. Soon, white sparks began to flicker atop the blade.
Just a little closer.
"…Did I hear wrong?"
Thud. The sound of a footstep approached. Yes, just a little closer.
With my breath held, I rested the saber against my shoulder. I felt the presence of a hand grasping the door handle, and then—
Creeeeak.
As the rusty hinges groaned and the door cracked open—
"Peek-a-boo."
I thrust the saber in. I felt the distinct sensation of bone crushing followed by a wet crunch.
I immediately reached through the gap in the door, muffled the man's mouth as he collapsed, and stepped inside.
"Whoa, easy there."
His wide-eyed gaze began to dim.
Dark skin, sharp and prominent features, and that slightly awkward speech from earlier… he wasn't Han Chinese.
I gently lowered the man's body to the floor and let go. Having breathed his last, he slumped down without resistance.
'Further in.'
Small noises were coming from deep inside.
The warehouse of this abandoned manor was so dilapidated that it was barely holding onto its roof tiles, but being a warehouse near the docks, it occupied a vast area.
I didn't know how many more there were.
'Half an hour.'
I flicked my wrist to scatter the blood droplets from the blade, then rested it back on my shoulder and moved forward.
I had to clear this place and get out within half an hour.
In this world, there is a secret art known as Gu poison, or Wugu.
Generally, it refers to the technique of sealing all sorts of venomous creatures inside a jar and letting them kill each other until only one remains—the Heavenly Gold Gu.
It’s easier to think of it as a form of survival of the fittest conducted in a very cramped environment. It feels like an artificial natural selection forced by evolutionary pressure. Whether that’s scientifically possible is a secondary concern.
Regardless.
Gu poison was a crime clearly documented in both the Tang and Ming legal codes. It was considered a heinous offense, usually punishable by death.
I finally understood why.
And I understood why the Sichuan Tang Family, despite being the world's premier clan of poison arts, could not cure Gu poison.
'Shit…'
I barely suppressed the urge to vomit. I had to cover my mouth and settle my stomach for a long moment.
Among the many variations of Gu, the worst was said to be the Human Gu.
And the secret techniques of the Five Poisons Sect, who were said to have studied Gu more deeply than anyone else, were no different.
"Bring me Meat Lot 17, Number 3."
"Yes, milord."
In the deepest warehouse of the manor, the air was thick with the smell of blood, excrement, and a terrible stench of rot.
A few dim lamps flickered there, and an old man stood before a large bed.
The old man was ordering a dazed-looking servant to repeatedly bring large straw sacks and lay them on the bed. He would then stab them in various places with a small dagger and jot something down.
Miserably enough, from my position, the entire scene inside the warehouse was perfectly visible.
"The toxicity is weak. Discard this one."
"Yes, milord."
I could see that what tumbled out of the straw was a human corpse.
I could see what a corpse looks like after being eaten away by insects.
And I knew exactly what the dozens of straw sacks piled up in this warehouse meant.
'They’re doing this in the middle of Beijing? No matter how great the Eunuch Bureau’s influence is, the scale of this is too large.'
Even through the nausea, I couldn't stop the questions from rising.
If this many people went missing, wouldn't the trail be too easy to follow?
Just from what I could see, there were over fifty straw-wrapped bundles in this warehouse alone. Since all of them were likely corpses, if I considered the other warehouses I hadn't checked yet and the time they must have spent on these anatomical and biological experiments, how high would the number be?
They did this in Beijing despite the risks?
While evading the eyes of the Eastern Depot, the Beggars' Sect, the Hao Clan, and the righteous factions?
Why? If they had done this in some remote mountain in Hebei, it wouldn't have been nearly as conspicuous. Why here?
"This one turned out more useful. Seal it in the chest."
"Yes, milord."
"Hmm… this should be enough to handle the batch for the Office of Transmission."
As the old man muttered to himself and stepped aside, the corpse lying on the bed suddenly let its arm flop down.
Something strangely caught my eye.
On the inside of the pale, sickly forearm, I saw something black.
Focusing my vision, I spotted small characters.
'A tattoo?'
In this era, tattoos generally fell into two categories: those branded onto criminals, and those used to mark membership in an Unorthodox organization.
This was not an era where tattoos existed for aesthetic purposes.
Furthermore, criminal brands were usually placed on the forehead or cheeks—places that couldn't be hidden—to ensure the person could never walk with their head held high again.
A tattoo hidden on the body like that belonged to an Unorthodox organization.
The distance was too great and the skin was in poor condition, so I couldn't identify it exactly, but…
'If they didn't kidnap commoners…'
The puzzle pieces began to fit together.
'If you kidnap commoners indiscriminately, you inevitably leave a trail.'
One shouldn't underestimate the Ming Dynasty. Especially not in Beijing. Beijing's administrative system was incredibly detailed by the standards of this era.
The officials in Beijing were the type of people who would embezzle taxes even from someone who had died three generations ago. They were tenacious enough to start an investigation the moment a single head of tax revenue went missing without reason.
In truth, in any era or nation, the tax office is always the most terrifying entity.
The commoners of Beijing, who paid taxes under all sorts of pretexts, were carefully managed national assets. If such people started disappearing by the hundreds, the Embroidered Uniform Guard would have intervened.
Therefore.
'The Black Path.'
The numerous Unorthodox sects and gangs scattered throughout Beijing.
What if some of them had joined hands with the Eunuch Bureau and 'offered up' a few of their own members?
The disappearance of Black Path thugs is of little consequence. They often kill each other, die in foreign lands, or flee in the middle of the night. Most of them are even under the management of the Hebei Dragon Slaying Alliance.
Since the authorities try not to offend the Dragon Slaying Alliance, they don't strictly manage the Black Path underworld of Beijing.
It wouldn't be hard to make people disappear within that world. Hebei is a region teeming with Black Path wannabes, after all. They could even kidnap thugs from other regions.
And above all, quite naturally.
The bodies of martial artists are much sturdier than those of commoners.
"That takes care of the Nine Offices' personnel. I'm glad we're on schedule. Wan Mok-jeong, where did that fellow go? At a busy time like this."
"I will go find him, milord."
"Yes, he's probably idling in the inner courtyard again. Drag him back by his hair."
"Yes, milord."
The servant shuffled away and soon vanished.
I stared at the old man's back, gripping my saber as I thought.
He said he 'took care of' the Nine Offices' personnel?
The 'Nine Offices' referred to the lower administrative tiers of the government. These were minor posts or miscellaneous roles.
A master of the Five Poisons Sect, working with the Eunuch Bureau to create Gu, had just mentioned the government.
And he said he 'took care of' them.
The meaning was too clear.
'Son of a bitch!'
I looked around the room once more.
If all these corpses were jars for brewing Gu poison…
'Every official in Beijing… no, at least every official belonging to the Six Ministries…'
They’ve been fed Gu.
It meant the Eunuch Bureau's coup plan had already reached a certain level of fruition. To the point where they could push out the Five Poisons Sect, who had outlived their usefulness, and replace them with Tang Family warriors without the plan skipping a beat.
'The Tang Family wasn't the main problem.'
Gripping my saber, I charged toward the old man.