Tear Gas and a Promise in the Moonlight
Oh no.
Samryong had drifted off into his own thoughts and hadn't even noticed Seol Mokyeon spotting him. He offered an awkward bow, hands folded in salute.
"Forgive me. I didn't realize anyone was here—I was passing by, saw you, and was about to turn back. I had no intention of spying."
Hardliners might have insisted this proved he'd tried to steal a glimpse of the sect's secret arts, but Seol Mokyeon was nothing of the sort—and frankly, what she'd been practicing was hardly worth stealing.
Curiosity, in fact, outranked surprise in her.
"Who are you?"
Her lake-blue eyes caught the moonlight and gazed at him with quiet composure.
"Ah, the healer from two days ago... the one who was with us in the barracks."
"Not quite a healer. More of a combat medic?"
When an awkward silence settled, Samryong broke it first with an introduction.
"I'm Tang Samryong."
"Tang Samryong... Oh! I'm Seol Mokyeon. Wait—Tang, as in...?"
"Yes."
"Oh! The Sichuan Tang Clan!"
The moment she realized he belonged to the Tang Clan, her eyes shifted from calm to eager curiosity.
"I was taught about them. The masters of poison and hidden weapons in Sichuan—poison users who are still counted among the Orthodox sects!"
"Is that so?"
"Yes! The Sichuan Tang Clan is one of the Six Great Clans, aren't they? Have you perhaps had dealings with the others...?"
Her first impression had been one of composure, but she turned out to be surprisingly inquisitive.
With questions rattling off like a repeating crossbow, Samryong decided his first task was to calm her down.
"Lady Seol, if you have nothing urgent pressing, I'll gladly answer any question you like—so feel free to ask them one at a time."
At his words, her cheeks flushed red—perhaps because of how pale her skin was.
"Ah... I'm sorry, Young Hero Tang. Haha... this is my first time outside the Ice Palace, and my first real conversation with someone who isn't part of it... I suppose I got a little ahead of myself."
"It's quite all right. What was the question?"
"Ah! Whether you'd ever met anyone from the other Great Clans...!"
"The Six Great Clans hold periodic assemblies. And once every three years, there's the Azure Dragon Tournament."
"Oh! The Azure Dragon Tournament! I've heard of that. The grand sparring competition second only to the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering held by the Martial Alliance. Have you ever competed, Young Hero Tang?"
"Haha! My skills are far too humble for such an opportunity."
You?
For an instant, did her blue eyes seem to glow brighter? At Samryong's words, Seol Mokyeon could only tilt her head in puzzlement.
"Approaching the wall of the Peak Realm before even twenty... Oh! I'm sorry! I was being presumptuous, reading you like that—I hope it didn't offend you?"
"Well, gauging an opponent's strength is basic etiquette in the Jianghu. We just don't usually announce it out loud."
"...I'm sorry."
Perhaps because it was her first time out of the Ice Palace, she seemed to be missing a few fundamentals.
"I don't mind, but others might take it poorly. And besides me, the Central Plains has the Nine Dragons and Eight Phoenixes—young masters all of them, either not yet twenty or barely so, yet every one of them a Peak Realm or First-Rate fighter."
"I've heard of them. The Nine Dragons and Eight Phoenixes. Have you ever met any of them?"
"I know the First Phoenix of Emei, Lady Wi. A prodigy who reached the Peak Realm before turning twenty."
"Wi Sogun, the First Phoenix of Emei! You mean her?! That's incredible—reaching the Peak Realm so young! She must be a truly magnificent swordswoman!"
Samryong found himself curious what the Wi Sogun of Seol Mokyeon's imagination looked like.
"Yes, she's a remarkable woman. Any other questions?"
As if she'd been waiting for exactly that, Seol Mokyeon fired off one inquiry after another, and Samryong answered each as faithfully as his own knowledge allowed.
"Young Hero Tang, your insight is truly remarkable."
"Hearing a hundred times isn't as good as seeing once. Better one experience than a hundred tellings. If you ever find yourself visiting the Tang Clan, I'll show you the sights of Sichuan."
"Really?"
"Yes."
Seol Mokyeon studied him intently with those blue eyes, then spoke.
"I'm eighteen. How old are you, Young Hero Tang?"
"Meeting someone my own age on a battlefield like this—it's a pleasant surprise, truly."
At his answer, Seol Mokyeon started to say something, stopped herself, started again, and stopped again.
Hm?
Samryong decided to give her all the time she needed.
Five minutes or so passed before she seemed to finally steel herself and part her lips.
"Will you... be my friend?"
"A friend?"
"Yes... ah, perhaps I'm asking too much—"
"Of course. No—gladly. You can just call me Samryong from now on."
When Samryong extended his hand, Seol Mokyeon clasped it with a radiant smile.
"And you can call me Mokyeon."
"Could I come see the Ice Palace sometime?"
"Of course. Here."
What she pressed into his hand was a token shaped much like the Boeun Medal he'd once received from Hwasun Satae.
"With this, you'll be able to meet me anytime."
"I don't really have anything to give back. Hm... will this do?"
"A throwing dart?"
"I made it myself. A bit crude, though."
"You know how to work metal?"
Seol Mokyeon's eyes lit up. Curiosity had struck again.
"A little? Oh, wait! One moment."
Samryong pulled out another dart.
"What's your name in characters?"
"Mine is..."
Samryong engraved Seol Mokyeon's name onto the dart and handed it back to her.
"There. Next time I'll give you something more impressive."
"Thank you."
"Sure."
Talking with Seol Mokyeon had eaten up a good stretch of time.
I should get back.
He still had to research his tear gas formulation, and as Samryong turned to leave, his eye caught the blue gemstone hanging at her neck.
Something about that... feels strange.
Didn't it always happen that way? The moments you'd normally walk straight past—until suddenly, for reasons you couldn't name, you reached out.
That was exactly Samryong right now.
"That necklace is beautiful."
"Oh! It's something like a talisman."
"It looks like it holds real power."
Did it, though? The bead had something about it that caught and held the eye.
"I'd better get going. See you later."
"Yes. Tomorrow."
Leaving Seol Mokyeon behind, Samryong returned to the barracks—where he approached Yu Yangcheol, still nursing his bruised tailbone, and told him what had just crossed his mind.
"Simple, but reliable. Anyone have a better suggestion?"
"I'd like to add something."
"As would I."
Yu Yangcheol had refined the plan with Samryong's input, then proposed it at the following day's strategy meeting. The prince adopted it, and with so many minds set to work on the foundation, the finer details came together with remarkable speed—just as raising a building is quick once the frame is up.
And so a week passed, a busy one for the command staff and soldiers alike.
In a broad clearing at the corner of the military camp, officers and staff officers had gathered, and before them stood Samryong and Lee Jitae.
Everyone could see at a glance who the star of this demonstration was.
Expectant eyes turned toward Samryong, and he returned a folded-hand salute and offered his thanks first.
"Before anything else, I wish to thank the generals and staff officers who gave their utmost over the past week despite the tight schedule—and the soldiers who labored just as hard."
"Because that's the heart of this operation. That... tear gas, you called it? A poison?"
"It is a poison, but it carries no threat to life. I'd have preferred to brew something capable of wiping out the Swords of the North entirely, but that would be far too dangerous for a rescue mission."
"Right. Neutralizing them is more than enough. We're rescuing my son—I'd rather not court needless danger."
The prince made a point of emphasizing that the hostage was his own son.
At that moment, the eunuch faction remnants behind him—who held no love for Yu Yangcheol—shouted out.
"With the Imperial Grandson's rescue hanging by the hour, you've squandered an entire week—you must produce results, and produce them now!"
"Indeed! And if the results prove wanting, someone must answer for it!"
"How could a mere pothead possibly neutralize the Swords of the North?!"
Negative voices rose here and there, but they were a handful of men at most, and their influence was negligible.
Ignoring the barking of dogs, Samryong produced one of the ceramic canisters.
"The method of use is simple. Light the fuse and throw it. The flame travels down the fuse to the small charge of gunpowder inside, which quickly burns the dried herbs packed within—and out comes the smoke."
"Oh ho..."
Crude, but this was where they were, after all. Later he'd ask Gi Chaeyun—no, Tang Chaeyun now—to build a proper version. For now, working was good enough.
"Everyone, wrap cloth over your faces, and take care not to breathe the smoke in deeply. And this—who'd like some, applied under the nose?"
Samryong displayed a paste of crushed mint, but it looked so unappetizing that everyone recoiled. Every face said a mask was plenty.
Seeing this, Samryong dabbed the mint beneath his own nose, and Lee Jitae promptly followed suit.
"Then—any volunteers to test it?"
"I'll do it! To experience the effects myse—"
"Your Highness! Grant me the honor!"
"Very well!"
Thundering loud today as ever—Hwang Ung.
Normally Zhu Wancheong would have scolded him, but this time he passed the torch over as if he'd been waiting for exactly this.
He's scared.
Nothing showed on the surface, but it was obvious. Perhaps aware of the thought or not, Zhu Wancheong patted Hwang Ung on the shoulder.
"Since you beg so earnestly, I can hardly refuse! I leave it to you."
"Leave it to me—perish the thought! I shall repay you by grinding my very bones to dust!"
"Thank you. Get in there quickly. And Physician Tang—hand him that."
"Apply it under your nose. It should take some of the burn out of the smoke."
Having dabbed the mint paste beneath his nose, the prince shoved the slow-talking Hwang Ung into the demonstration ground.
"Now, throw it! As if a little poison could best me!"
"Truly admirable courage."
"Magnificent."
"That's what a bodyguard should be."
As the generals and staff marveled at his gallantry, Samryong lit the fuse.
"Once the fuse catches, throw it straight away."
Tsss!
The oil-soaked fuse burned down rapidly.
"The fuse quality isn't very good yet, so a generous throw is best."
And so Samryong threw two more.
Poof! Poof! Poof!
With small popping sounds, smoke began to billow upward in slow plumes.
And there stood Hwang Ung, proudly planted in the middle of it.
Then, slowly, his face began to twist.
"Kghm! Kghm!"
As the smoke gradually spread, the fumes reached even those standing far away—coughs broke out all over the field.
"Hrm..."
"Ahem."
Then Yeo Cheolgi and Hang Jeoksan sidled quietly over and dabbed mint beneath their noses.
His face is going to burst at this rate.
The fumes nipped at him, but Hwang Ung bore it somehow. His face had gone so red it seemed ready to explode on the spot.
"Are you all right?"
"A mere trifle for one such as I... Khek! Ke-kek!"
The moment the prince asked, Hwang Ung—who had gulped down a great deal of smoke—let out a shriek.
"Ugh—! Khek! Khek! Kholok! Kholok!"
"...Is he going to die like that?"
"It's not a lethal poison, but..."
"Uwegh! Kegh! Khek!"
Hwang Ung writhed in agony amid the smoke. Confirmed—more than effective even on a First-Rate master. Samryong shouted out.
"Do not touch your face! Spread both arms wide and walk out of the smoke with a light step!"
"Uwegh! Kegh! Khek!"
Even through the torment, Hwang Ung obeyed, spreading his arms and staggering out beyond the smoke.
"Kholok! Kholok!"
Tears and snot streamed down his face without distinction. The onlookers recoiled involuntarily.
"When it strikes like this, touching your face only makes the pain worse—you must wash it away, like so, with running water."
"Ughhh..."
Only when the basin of water splashed over his face did Hwang Ung look as if he might live.
"Now—would those of you standing in the back like to come up and verify it for yourselves?"
The eunuch remnants who'd been sneering at the ceramic canisters a moment ago had shut their mouths and were gazing intently at the distant hills.
The prince addressed them.
"Go on. See for yourselves."
"Ah... Your Highness!"
"Come now! I'm telling you to dispel your own doubts firsthand! Quickly!"
"Ah—ah—just a moment, Your Highness!"
"Send them in."
The generals standing nearby seized the eunuch remnants one by one and shoved them into the demonstration ground.
"Block the exits. Nobody leaves."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Soldiers pushed back with their spear butts anyone who tried to scramble out.
These men, who normally swaggered about with their shoulders thrown back and their noses in the air, had grated on the soldiers' nerves—and never had the troops been more zealous.
"Here you go!"
"D—don't push me, sir."
"P—please don't stab! My side already hurts!"
"Aaand~ here we go."
They tried every desperate means to flee, but Samryong's throwing arm was faster.
"Gaaagh! Khek! Ugh!"
"Khek! Kholok! Kholok! Aaaah!"
"Uwegh!"
Sound alone would have convinced anyone that some infernal hell had cracked open. The prince watched it all with deep satisfaction.
"Performance confirmed. We may begin the operation soon."
"Agreed, Your Highness."
"You there—stop throwing them!"
But it seemed his words never reached Samryong's ears.
"Yap. Kukukuk!"
"Someone restrain him. Go on."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Uwegh!"
"Kholok! Kholok!"
Leaving behind the screaming dancers in the smoke, the prince and Hang Jeoksan moved off to prepare the next phase of the operation.
"Why am I..."
Samryong wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up here.
At his muttered question, the prince materialized beside him as if he'd had ears in the wind.
"Why? Because you're an elite force made up of exceptional masters, that's why."
"...Me?"
"Yes, you."
The prince paused there.
"I knew from the first moment I laid eyes on you that your skill sat at the very edge of First-Rate. And wasn't it you who defeated General Yeo Cheolgi—the God of War of Ming, the Nightmare of the Northern Yuan?"
"That was coincidence..."
"Coincidence is skill too, whatever people choose to believe. Ah—we've arrived."
For the first time since the landscape had been nothing but grassland, semi-desert, and dunes, a true green forest appeared before them.
A surreal sight—like a forest floating above the desert.
The woods stretched endlessly, packed so dense with trees that anyone losing their way might wander until they died.
"The sun will be down soon."
The party that had come in secret alongside the prince numbered roughly three hundred—every one of them trained in martial arts and adept at lightness skill. Perhaps because of the forest, the sun seemed to sink faster than usual. The prince slowly drew out a mask, and the rescue team behind him masked up as well.
"From here we go on foot. Scouts are lying in ambush throughout the forest."
Seol Mokyeon, dressed in night clothes, appeared behind them. She could have simply shared her intelligence, but she had insisted on coming along.
"Good. Move out."
With the prince at their head, they walked in silence through the darkening woods.
"Hold. There."
The prince pointed at something, and behind them Jeongcheon wordlessly drew her bow and pulled the string taut.
Thwip! Thud!
A sound of tearing air, followed by something striking home.
"Ghk!"
With a death-gasp, a dark figure tumbled from a tree.
"There. And there."
Under the prince's direction, Hwang Ung and Jeongcheon drew their bows with practiced ease.
Thud! Thud!
They had pierced, uncannily, the concealment arts of those lying hidden. Samryong and Seol Mokyeon both stared, dumbfounded.
His realm is about equal to mine—how is he doing that?
Perhaps he felt their stares, because the prince smiled.
"Curious?"
"Not particularly..."
"Yes."
Unlike Seol Mokyeon, Samryong was shameless.
"A trick of the trade, picked up surviving the treachery of palace life."
Detecting concealment arts is a trick of the trade?
Just how much more was this prince hiding? Samryong found him more and more intriguing by the moment.
"I didn't learn it in the palace—it's something I studied on my own, so when time allows, I'll teach you specially. You've been a great help to me, after all."
"I'll learn it gratefully."
"Count it an honor."
Even the loud-mouthed Hwang Ung, it seemed, knew when to hold his tongue and where.
"Now... it's coming into view."
After dealing with the hidden sentries, they arrived at a colossal canyon. No one had imagined a gorge of this scale lay hidden within the forest.
"It's over there."
No matter how clever the camouflage, the touch of human hands always leaves a trace. And Samryong, having built hiding places like this before, found it that much easier to spot.
"Maybe I don't need to learn your martial arts after all? You saw through it in an instant."
"It's a trick of the trade. So yes—you will be learning that martial art, one way or another."
"An admirable attitude."
"Shall we begin, then?"
As Samryong undid the pack strapped to his back, his crude bamboo tear gas canisters spilled out in abundance.