The Immortal (2)
"What are you dithering about?! Untie these ropes at once!"
Even while I stood lost in thought for a moment, Gongsun Zan's mouth never stopped.
"Do you truly not know what calamity will befall you once the Immortal learns his disciple has been treated like this?!"
...
"I am granting you your final mercy!"
So this was exactly what a fox toting a tiger on its back must look like.
Well, it made no difference whether the figure Gongsun Zan kept invoking was truly an immortal or not. If he really were a transcendent who rode the clouds as he pleased, crisscrossing the world, he would never have let his own disciple be taken captive like this; and if he wasn't, then the fellow was simply a fraud, hardly worth a second thought.
I turned away from Gongsun Zan's incessant bellowing and asked Sima Yi instead.
"What do you make of his claim that he's achieved eternal life?"
"Hmm."
At my question, Sima Yi gave her fan of jay feathers a light flutter and replied.
"Couldn't we simply put it to the test?"
"Test?"
"Yes."
She nodded, then flashed a mocking smile in Gongsun Zan's direction.
"I hear that one who has achieved eternal life can survive for months on end without eating a single thing..."
...
"Wouldn't it be nice to indulge a little curiosity?"
"I like that idea."
Bobbing my head in agreement, I gave the order.
"Lock Gongsun Zan in a cell and give him nothing but water to drink. We'll see whether this man has truly attained eternal life."
"Yes, my lord!"
The soldier who had been standing by near Gongsun Zan against any unforeseen incident seized him with rough hands and dragged him off without ceremony.
"Hahaha! Did you think such a measure would strike fear into me?! This body has truly achieved eternal life—!!"
Gongsun Zan bellowed in defiant pride, apparently believing beyond a shred of doubt that he really had attained immortality.
He had gone completely, thoroughly mad.
Let's see now.
If my memory served, a human being could hold out for roughly three weeks without food.
Three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food.
Survival wisdom commonly known as the Three of Life Rule.
Granted, certain individuals could endure longer, but since the average person could not push past those limits, that was precisely why it was called the Three of Life Rule.
Judging from the wretched state Gongsun Zan was in, he looked unlikely to last even two weeks, let alone three, so I would have to drop by and check on him at the proper time.
"...Good grief."
With Gongsun Zan, the last of the great problems had been resolved, and I felt something I couldn't quite put into words.
All that remained now was to deal with the rest of the Gongsun lineup rampaging around Liaodong, and then I could finally greet the unification ending I'd watched a hundred times in games.
...Of course, this being reality, unifying the realm didn't mean everything simply ended there.
An age of peace and an age of chaos.
Judging purely by the turmoil and hardship involved, chaos was surely the worse of the two—but even a peaceful era carried troubles all its own.
Then again, to have pacified an age of chaos was proof of extraordinary ability in itself, so as long as such a leader lived, keeping the peace posed no great difficulty.
Whether they had reclaimed order by forging alliances through uncanny judgment and a silver tongue, or simply bulldozed every enemy with overwhelming command and tactics, each had at least one strength to their name.
All that remained was for my descendants to take this nation, worn ragged by endless war, and build it back into prosperity.
In other words, the business of raising children mattered a very great deal...
...Mm. I honestly couldn't say whether that would go well.
History offered plenty of rulers whose own talents were brilliant, yet who botched the raising of heirs so thoroughly that their kingdom collapsed almost overnight.
The textbook example of that was Emperor Wen of Sui.
He unified a China that had lain fragmented for centuries after the Yellow Turban Rebellion, and then went on to establish the civil service examination system, the Grand Canal, and more, laying down the empire's political foundations with meticulous care.
They say the Tang dynasty only caught up with the economic power Emperor Wen had built in a mere few years after several emperors had come and gone.
A state founded by a man that capable ought to have lasted a hundred years as a matter of course, yet the Sui dynasty failed to survive even fifty, never mind a hundred.
Why, you ask?
Because his son was genuinely the lowest dreg of humankind.
That deed of unfilial treachery we used to shout Sucks to be you, Father! about as a joke—this man actually went and did it for real.
You know the one. Stabbing your own father while claiming to succeed him on the throne.
As a result, Emperor Wen, who had been groaning in the grip of illness, half-neglected the affairs of state and died at his own son's hand; and Emperor Yang, who ascended the throne in his wake, gambled the empire away in spectacular fashion before being strangled by rebel forces.
The million-strong Sui army that marched on Goguryeo was likewise mostly Emperor Yang's handiwork.
The Battle of Salsu—the great catastrophe every Korean knows by heart—took place under Emperor Yang's reign as well.
Emperor Wen, for his part, had poked at Goguryeo exactly once, seemed to react with something along the lines of 'Whoa, this doesn't feel quite right?', and withdrawn without a fuss.
Truly a man of ability—he knew precisely when to strike and when to pull back.
A reckless dive... the bounty... the comeback...
Just a wistful old memory that surfaced from one corner of my mind these days.
"...S-so, what will you do with this fortress now?"
"Good question."
I shrugged at Pang Tong's question.
Yijing Tower was without question a colossal fortress, but its scale was so vast that even basic upkeep devoured an enormous amount of labor.
A castle Gongsun Zan had raised by quite literally raking together most of You Province's population and resources.
"Hmm..."
Beiping Commandery, familiar enough to anyone who knew the Three Kingdoms, and Guangyang Commandery—the ground modern China's capital, Beijing, now stands on—had alike seen their civil administration blown to pieces the moment Gongsun Zan's hands were through with them.
Worse still, Yijing Tower's very location was a touch awkward.
This Gongsun Zan fellow knew perfectly well how deeply the nomadic tribes had marked him.
The northern tribes were said to have used scarecrows painted with Gongsun Zan's face as archery targets—did I really need to elaborate?
And so, eager to avoid colliding with the tribes wherever possible, Gongsun Zan had raised Yijing Tower not near the northern frontier but smack in the middle of You Province.
Had it stood at least near the tribes, it could have served as a formidable border fortress...
Sitting in the heart of You Province, Yijing Tower was less a check against the nomads than a structure likely to be put to splendid use someday, when whatever power ruled this land decided to raise the banner of revolt.
One need look no further than Gongsun Zan himself: forget the tribes, the man had holed up inside Yijing Tower and lifted his banner against the Han.
Frankly, the sheer size was a problem in its own right.
How, exactly, had a mere fortress come to rival Luoyang itself there in Sili Province?
A castle so enormous and so opulent that, handled carelessly, it could diminish the authority of the imperial house.
Its military value was nothing to write home about, its maintenance costs were anything but trivial, and political complications were piled on top of it all.
Was there a single reason for me to leave a fortress like that sitting idle?
"...First things first—I'll have to shrink this uselessly enormous fortress down to size."
Ordering a castle smashed to pieces on the spot would get nothing accomplished properly.
This called for time, and for untangling things one careful step at a time.
...And whatever could be recycled, we would simply put to use again.
With every decision made, I spoke in an even voice.
"Survey the fortress, then report back to me on how the cleanup ought to be handled."
"Y-yes, sir! I'll give it everything I have!"
Pang Tong cried out, her voice still carrying that faint thread of self-doubt.
Anyone meeting this timid girl for the first time would surely wonder whether Pang Tong could handle the work at all, but I knew all about the startling hidden charm of my little strategists, and so I did not worry.
...I truly did not worry.
'Tsk, tsk. Where on earth do you intend to use a coward like that...?'
'...Pardon?'
Words someone with no sense for the room had once spat out while looking Pang Tong's way.
Whether that person had sneered out of genuine disgust at Pang Tong's timidity, or whether it was simple jealousy wearing another face, I still couldn't say to this day—but what Pang Tong showed them then surpassed all imagination.
'Where does one find the confidence to tear into someone else while being unable to manage even one's own duties, I wonder...?'
'Wh-what did you just say?!'
'Hmph. I will be submitting my opinion on this matter in due course.'
Birds of a feather flock together, it seemed—Pang Tong, too, possessed a razor-sharp tongue worthy of Zhuge Liang and Sima Yi.
People of a timid disposition generally cower and shrink the moment they are exposed to another's malice, but Pang Tong had instead driven headlong into it, face first.
By that point I half wondered whether she had fooled everyone around her and was simply playing the coward on purpose.
Then again, her uncle Bang Deok-gong had told me she'd been that way since she was small, so it couldn't have been an act...
In any case, astonishing was astonishing.
"My lord."
"Hm?"
Just as Sima Yi slipped away to keep Gongsun Zan in check and Pang Tong scurried off to see to the cleanup, Zhuge Liang spoke up.
Calling to me, she gave her White Feather Fan the same gentle flutter Sima Yi had offered moments before, and continued in a calm voice.
"Reading the currents of Heaven's hidden design, I discern that before long you may make the acquaintance of someone most intriguing."
...
What on earth was that supposed to mean?
Gazing at my little strategist laying down foreshadowing as blatantly as she pleased, I felt a faint, peculiar stirring in my chest.