Feint East, Strike West
Looking at the situation alone, the right move was to go rescue Khulan and Tolga at once — but there were several problems standing in the way.
The Crown Prince's child born out of wedlock, and moreover, the mother of that child was a princess of the Northern Yuan.
If word of this ever got out, there was no telling what kind of shockwave it would send through the realm.
Which meant that if they were going to rescue mother and son, security would be the critical issue.
And what if the people who had poisoned the Crown Prince with an unidentified toxin learned of the rescue? There was no telling what kind of interference and threats might come their way.
Most critically of all — we don't know where they are.
And then the most decisive problem: they had no precise knowledge of where the Sword of the North was encamped.
They couldn't mobilize large numbers of troops, they were short on time, and they didn't even know the enemy's exact location.
In a word, the situation was utter garbage.
The prince, who had been sitting quietly, was the first to speak.
"The first problem... would be troop deployment, I suppose?"
"Security has to come first, Your Highness."
"If we're moving forces on a large scale, we'll need staff officers to draw up strategy and tactics, and a justification strong enough to convince the commanders who'll carry them out..."
The prince deliberated for a moment, then broke into a face full of mischief.
"At last I get to reap the full rewards of all those years I spent living as a wastrel!"
Samryong nearly blurted out, Is that something to be proud of? — but he suppressed it with desperate self-restraint.
And it wasn't just Samryong. Hang Jeoksan and Seol Mokyeon were wearing nearly identical expressions.
None of them had any idea what on earth he was about to say.
Given how the prince occasionally acted on wild impulses, he was genuinely the sort of man who made your heart lurch.
"They say the child is mine, don't they? What do you think?"
"Your Highness the Prince!"
"It's perfectly believable coming from a wastrel, and my brother's child would be that much safer. After all, the child would be the son of a wastrel prince, not the Crown Prince's heir."
The prince had vaguely suspected there were people who hoped the Crown Prince would never wake from his coma, but his conversation with Samryong today had turned that suspicion into certainty.
Formless poison.
The poison with the highest probability of being used — the one that had left the Crown Prince in a coma.
If people capable of wielding such a thing learned that the Crown Prince's child was still alive, who knew what horrors they might commit?
Between letting the truth come out and claiming the child as a wastrel prince's bastard rather than the Crown Prince's heir, the latter was unquestionably the safer option.
No — they might not even spare it a second glance.
Typical of that wastrel, they could simply write it off.
His reputation was already so wretched that they might well see it as just one more line added to his long record of disgrace.
He wasn't sure whether he should be pleased about that or not, mind you.
"I'm still unmarried, so my path to wedlock is blocked, and I'll get an earful from my fiancée — but that's hardly important."
It looks extremely important to me.
Going this far — was it loyalty? Or fraternal love? Whatever it was, the prince spoke of it as if it were nothing, but in truth he was giving up and sacrificing far more than anyone realized.
"...Will you truly be all right?"
"I'll manage! In that case, troop deployment shouldn't be a problem, right? After all, this is a matter of the gravest importance — the search for an imperial descendant!"
At his words, Hang Jeoksan spoke up.
"Your Highness's unorthodox conduct all this time is reason enough to convince everyone. There will be complaints, of course, but with the justification so airtight, I doubt it will cause any real trouble."
"Excellent! Excellent! Then the next problem is their stronghold..."
"That's the hardest one. Even if we devote our full strength to the search starting now... it will take considerable time."
"Right. The longer this drags on, the more the enemy will rally the Northern Yuan's forces and bind themselves together more tightly under the banner of legitimacy. And the more they consolidate, the more distant my sister-in-law and nephew's escape becomes..."
"May I presume to offer my opinion?"
At that moment, Seol Mokyeon, who had been listening in silence, raised her hand.
She had somehow become entangled in a grave affair, but it had occurred to her that this might just be an opportunity.
"It isn't me... it's our Ice Palace. We know where their stronghold is."
"What? We've been combing the region all this time without managing to find it — how?"
Seol Mokyeon answered Hang Jeoksan's unspoken question — we couldn't find it, so how did you? — with quiet composure.
"An army's movements are loud. We, however, can move in complete silence. It came at great sacrifice."
"Hmm... do they know that you know?"
"If they did, they would never have released me. The truth is, I came here to propose a trade with Your Highness."
"A trade? With me?"
Shing!
At that instant, Jeongcheon, the guard who always stood in silence, drew her sword like a flash of light and leveled it at Seol Mokyeon.
Won Ayoung reflexively reached for her own blade, but having left her weapons outside upon entering the barracks, all she could manage was an awkward, half-crouched stance.
"A trade, is it...? Wastrel or not, I am still a prince. And a mere household's young mistress dares propose a trade to me? I could simply torture the answer out of you."
Is this really the same prince I've seen until now? Seol Mokyeon met the prince's gaze — a gaze overflowing with menace well beyond what his words carried — without yielding.
Retreating here meant it was all over.
"Now that I've walked over my comrades' blood, no torture will ever open my mouth."
"How dare you—"
Sticky killing intent seeped from Jeongcheon's voice, like an injured beast growling low in its throat.
The sword hovered at her snow-white neck.
Slowly, Seol Mokyeon's clothes began to stain red.
Peak Realm at minimum... What in the world is the imperial palace's martial arts? How is she hiding an aura like that?
Samryong, crouched quietly in a corner, was still reeling from shock — but the prince glared down at Seol Mokyeon with murderous intensity.
"Daring to propose a trade. Do you believe yourself qualified for such a thing?"
"In...so...lent... wretches... must... die..."
She's a woman?
Perhaps it was due to her injured throat, but her voice was as rough as the bark of an ancient tree.
And yet anyone could tell she was female.
The atmosphere in the barracks turned savage.
Seol Mokyeon was afraid — but as she had said, having come this far at the cost of so many comrades' lives, she could not bring herself to give up easily.
If I die here... then that is my fate.
The prince quietly watched the resolve in her eyes, then slowly lowered the hand gripping Jeongcheon's blade.
"Jeongcheon."
Sff.
The woman who had radiated an air of never yielding an inch sheathed her sword slowly at a single word from the prince.
"Even if I torture your subordinate, she won't talk, you say?"
"The moment you lay a hand on Ayoung, what you'll see won't be information — it will be my corpse."
At some point, Seol Mokyeon's hand had come to rest at her own throat.
Even a glance made it plain that extraordinary hand-qi was coiled within her palm.
However fast Jeongcheon might be, Seol Mokyeon's self-destruction would be faster.
The prince stared for a long while at the woman who showed no sign of backing down — then snorted with laughter.
"Hah!"
At his single smile, the absurdly frigid atmosphere thawed all at once.
"Good. That much steel in you, and I can trust the information."
"I beg your pardon?"
Clap!
The air, stretched taut as a bowstring, simply unraveled at the sound of the prince's qi-infused applause.
Minimum first-rate, everyone in this room. Now I'm genuinely curious about the imperial palace's martial arts.
Maybe I should've listened when they offered to tell me. Then again, something tells me it'd become a colossal headache if I actually knew — so Samryong quietly kept his mouth shut in the back.
Once the frost-like tension had melted away, the prince spoke with a steady gaze.
"A trade, then... let's hear your proposal. For the record, I don't care for vague platitudes like 'please help the Ice Palace somehow~'. I like specifics — who, when, where, what, how, and why, all laid out in detail. Do try to make this a bargain that satisfies us both."
"...I will tell you everything."
The prince leaned back at his ease, and Seol Mokyeon understood — this was the last chance she would be given.
"Hmmmm..."
"Huh?"
Samryong, who had been run ragged at the prince's barracks and had only just returned to his own after treating the wounded, found Yu Yangcheol leaning over a table, wrestling with something in deep concentration.
He had no idea what wind had blown the man in — he so rarely came to the barracks on account of his duties.
"Uncle, what are you doing?"
He was just pouring water into a cup for a drink when—
"So the prince has a child born out of wedlock. And with a woman of the Northern Yuan, no less... Now I finally understand why His Highness acted so rashly."
"Kff! Hack! Khek!"
"You're surprised too, I see."
"Yes... a little..."
Things were moving far faster than he'd expected.
"They tell me the imperial grandchild is being held by the Sword of the North, so I'm to bring an efficient rescue plan by tomorrow... Haa... honestly..."
"That does sound like a headache."
"Everyone has their complaints, but... it can't be helped. Rescuing an imperial grandchild is more important than anything else."
Just as the prince had predicted, everyone grumbled — yet they accepted it and pressed on with the work.
"Oh... I see... Shall I help?"
It was a courteous offer, made out of politeness.
Normally the answer would have been That'd be great! — but today was different.
"Yes. Please do."
"Ahem... Yes, sir."
What Yu Yangcheol was studying so gravely was a map.
"It's closer than I expected?"
The place where the Sword of the North lay hidden was one of the few spots in this land — mostly steppe, semi-desert, and pure desert — where an actual forest existed.
There may be few forests here, but the one that exists is monstrously vast. No wonder it's so hard to find.
"Right... in a sense, it's a natural fortress. The approaches are limited."
"Part of me just wants to set the whole thing ablaze."
"Samryong... this is a rescue mission. We're not here to annihilate the enemy — we have to save the imperial grandchild."
"Ahem... Yes, sir."
"This is terrain they know like the back of their hands. Charge in carelessly and there's no telling what could happen."
They knew the location, and their forces were overwhelming — but the nature of a rescue mission imposed countless constraints.
If this were a simple punitive expedition, the plan would practically write itself.
The Sword of the North was composed entirely of Peak Realm and First-Rate masters, so taking them down would cost dearly — but in the end, they would crumble before overwhelming numbers.
The true terror of the Sword of the North lay in how they might suddenly join the Northern Yuan's forces and strike the rear or flanks, collapsing the Ming column.
Viewed in isolation, they were merely one elite unit.
Once this operation is over, they'll relocate again... It's information far too valuable to burn up on a rescue alone.
Samryong quietly studied the map spread across the table.
But the rescue comes first! Still, we should strike them at the same time. however small the gain, we have to take it.
It was the moment his past-life habit — that species-level instinct for efficiency and profit — surfaced.
So... how do I pull this off?
Tap! Tap!
Samryong drummed his fingers against the table as he deliberated.
It felt like walking through a thick fog where not even an inch ahead was visible. He was at a complete loss.
"Haaa..."
"Let's take a breather."
"Yes."
Yu Yangcheol sprawled onto his cot with an exhausted face, and Samryong stepped outside the barracks to get some air.
Let's just walk.
As he wandered in silence, he found himself arriving at a familiar place.
It was the training grounds reserved for the generals, where the soldiers' comings and goings were restricted.
By the simple logic of walking wherever there were no people, he had ended up here.
Someone got here first.
Unfortunately, there was already a guest.
"Hup! Hup! Haap!"
The early arrival was Seol Mokyeon — the Young Palace Master of the Ice Palace he had seen only yesterday.
She was training alone in the deserted training grounds in the dead of night.
Washed clean, the bedraggled beggar-like wretch she'd been was nowhere to be found.
Whish! Ching!
Her distinctive exotic features and snow-white hair caught the moonlight, lending her an air of otherworldly mystery.
I couldn't pull that off even if someone paid me to.
He found his gaze helplessly captivated by her beautiful sword dance — and then—
Wait a moment... captivated by her sword dance?
One of the phrases Samryong had cherished most in his previous life.
Sometimes, simple is best!
Just as Alexander had sliced through the Gordian Knot with his blade, even problems that looked hopelessly complex could sometimes be solved by making them simple.
That's it! Feint east, strike west!
Leak information that would lure the enemy's forces into moving, and the moment they marched out, the Ming army would pin them down — and in that window, a small team would slip inside and rescue the two of them.
Simple — but as of now, it might well be the best there was.
And if I add poison on top of that? The odds climb even higher!
Poison didn't always have to kill.
There were sleeping agents. There were anesthetics.
The applications of poison were limitless.
Flash grenades. Absolutely perfect. I'll head back right now and start compounding...
"Who goes there?"
At that moment, a clear, elegant woman's voice froze Samryong mid-step.