Good Affinity
If Yunnan was the remote hinterland of the southwest, then Qinghai was the western extremity of the Central Plains.
This land of natural fortresses, walled off by the long barrier of the Kunlun Mountains, was barren and forever an outlying region far from the heart of the Central Plains.
Yet for the murim, Qinghai Province held extraordinary importance. Not only was it home to the Kunlun Sect—arguably the oldest Daoist school in the martial world—but it was also the gateway through which the Demonic Cult invariably poured into the Central Plains whenever they rose in force.
The Kunlun Sect had already turned back the Demonic Cult’s invasions more times than anyone could count.
Of course, the sect alone could never have stopped the Demonic Cult; every resistance had ended in terrible sacrifice. Still, they never broke.
Even in defeat they refused to yield, rising again and again until evil was destroyed—that was the spirit of the Central Plains murim.
As the living emblem of that spirit, the Kunlun Sect continued to hold its ground.
Heosang Zhenren, sect leader of the Kunlun Sect, received the messenger from the Sacheondang Family alone.
The fragrance of the Caffa she had brought as a gift filled the small leader’s chamber. The eyes that regarded the messenger were warm beyond measure—like those of a grandfather looking upon his granddaughter—as he spoke to Ye-eun, who had grown into a dazzling beauty in her early twenties.
“Shall I address you with honorifics?”
It was a strange thing to say.
As leader of one of the Nine Sects and One Gang, whether by seniority in the murim, by age, by personal martial prowess, or by the power he commanded, there were few in the world to whom Heosang Zhenren needed to show deference.
Yet here he was, offering it to a mere secretary.
Ye-eun answered with perfect composure.
“You may speak down to me if you like.”
“Even so, how could I…”
At his continued refusal she allowed herself a rare, gentle smile.
“What does the form of speech matter? What matters is that we are sharing this moment together.”
“Hahaha…”
Heosang Zhenren laughed, a little abashed.
“At the young clan head’s wedding there were so many eyes that I could not greet you properly. I am glad to see you again like this.”
“I feel the same. I have been so busy lately… I could never find the time to visit on my own.”
“Busy, you say. And how is that young clan head of the rumors? I found him a man of excellent character and remarkable talent, but…”
“A real bastard.”
“I beg your pardon…?”
At the crude word that slipped from her lips, Heosang Zhenren’s eyes went round. Ye-eun gave the weary smile of someone with a long story and let out a deep sigh.
“In all my life I have never met anyone like him.”
“Is that so? For you to curse him, is he a hypocrite whose inside and outside do not match?”
“No, that is not it. The problem is that he works people far too hard. And yet the results of that hardship are so clearly visible, and the rewards so thorough, that in the end you end up following him while still cursing under your breath. He is a type of person I have never encountered before.”
“A man who drives others with money and profit can hardly be called a moral figure, can he?”
“He pursues money and uses money to move people, yet he is not bound by money, and he never piles up injustice for the sake of money. That is what is unusual about him.
Among all the merchants under heaven there is not one who does not chase private gain, and the world is full of those who think nothing of harming others to obtain it. He is different.”
“How is he different?”
“It is as if… money is not his purpose. Money simply follows naturally. His real purpose seems to be making a world where people can live well…”
“If that is true, then he is living proof that even the Way of Commerce has its own righteousness. I am glad to hear he is well.
By the way, what brings you here today? Have you come for the memorial visit?”
Ye-eun shook her head at the question.
“If it were only for the memorial I would not have troubled the Zhenren. I would simply have stopped quietly at the grave and left.
Speaking of the memorial—does that fellow Yu-baek ever come by?”
Heosang Zhenren gave a bitter smile.
“I saw him once about ten years ago and not since. From the flowers that appear on the grave from time to time, it seems he does visit, but…”
“If you ever run into him, tell him I said to come to the Tang Family. There is a child who reminds me of Yeong-jeong; I want him to take a look.”
“Should I meet him, I will pass the word. Is that why you came?”
“No. That is personal. Official business is this.”
Ye-eun drew a letter from her robes and held it out. Heosang Zhenren took it and read. His expression grew grave.
“The Chagatai? You say the descendants of the Yuan may strike the Central Plains?”
“From what I have gathered, it is almost certain. According to the reports from the people we planted in the area disguised as merchants, they have already concluded something like mutual non-aggression pacts with Northern Yuan and with Khwarezm to the west. They are stockpiling grain and iron. Where else would they be headed?”
Ye-eun said.
Heosang Zhenren thought for a long moment before asking,
“Yet… if they do invade, I do not believe they will come through our Qinghai Province.
It is no easy thing for cavalry to cross the Kunlun Mountains. If Northern Yuan were to attack they would come through Gansu farther north, as they did in the past—but that land does not belong to these Chagatai, does it?”
“True enough. But Qinghai is also the route the Demonic Cult has always used whenever they sought to violate the Central Plains. If they fail to take Yunnan and Sichuan easily and the fighting drags on, they might send infantry on a detour to strike Qinghai and hit Sichuan from behind. That possibility cannot be ruled out.”
“Hmmm…”
Heosang Zhenren stroked his beard as though unconvinced.
Yet history had seen something very similar.
During the Second Punic War, Hannibal Barca had led the Carthaginian army across the Alps into the northern plains of Italy. He set out with fifty thousand infantry, nine thousand cavalry, and thirty-seven war elephants. During the fifteen-day ordeal of the Alpine march, frostbite, cold, and starvation took a terrible toll; many died. Still they reached the Italian plain and set a blade against Rome’s throat. After that they won victory after victory in the north. In the end Carthage lost the war because tactical triumphs could not overcome strategic defeat—yet if human will could cross the Alps, why not the Kunlun Mountains?
And in this world the armies even used martial arts!
Thinking from that thoroughly modern perspective, Huiyeom had also sent a formal warning and request to the Regional Military Commissioner of Qinghai. The commissioner had dismissed the dispatch with a brief note that the writer “suffered from excessive fantasy” and ignored it completely.
Thirty-three years earlier the Demonic Cult had stormed into the murim, but that was because the Demonic Cult were madmen. The idea that nomadic horsemen would ride over the Kunlun Mountains simply did not sound serious to the people of this age.
A prediction that the Demonic Cult would return was far more realistic.
And when one tried to use the Demonic Cult—about whom not even a rumor had been heard for thirty-three years—as grounds for inspecting military readiness or buying weapons, the reaction only grew worse.
In the end Huiyeom’s warning failed to persuade the Regional Military Commissioner of Qinghai.
So Ye-eun had come instead to the Kunlun Sect, which at least seemed likely to listen.
Of course, the Kunlun Sect would only listen. They had neither the wealth nor the reason to purchase the weapons Huiyeom had created.
“Should those lawless hordes ever be mad enough to cross the Kunlun Mountains seeking their own deaths, this sect will open a great slaughter and wash the mountains in blood.”
Though he was nearly eighty, Heosang Zhenren’s voice still rang with power.
Hoping that the Chagatai would never be so insane as to cross the Kunlun, Ye-eun brought the conversation to a close.
“Then I will see you again soon.”
“Next time I will come to Sichuan myself. And if I meet Lord Yu-baek, I will deliver your message.”
At Heosang Zhenren’s farewell Ye-eun smiled faintly.
She left the Kunlun Sect and sought out a nameless grave on the rear mountain.
Seeing the stone flowers—lilies and marigolds carved so finely they looked like living blooms—resting atop the burial mound, Ye-eun clicked her tongue.
“…We missed each other.”
After the soft click she stared blankly at the grave for a while.
“…Hwa-hong. I’ve been so busy lately. But I’m holding on. Watching the Tang Family grow as much as I suffer, I just can’t bring myself to half-ass it.
I wish you were here with me…”
Ye-eun whispered to the one who rested there, then closed her mouth.
“…Next time I’ll bring some Geomnamchun wine from Sichuan.”
She finished the quiet memorial and returned to Sichuan.
The Chagatai Khanate was composed of many noyon who swore obedience to a single Great Khan, and of the ulus those noyon ruled.
Each noyon was himself the khan of his own tribe; beneath him he commanded the general class known as noyan (written the same as noyon) and, under them, the nökör.
Equating nomadic social structure exactly with Western feudal nobility is imprecise, but roughly speaking one may think of the Great Khan as a king, a khan as a territorial lord, noyon as the collective term for the lordly noble class, an ulus as the domain each lord governed, noyan as lesser nobles, and nökör as knights.
Once nomads formed great empires they tended to settle, yet until that point their freedom from the land meant that an ulus was better understood as a “tribe” than as a fixed territory.
From the late autumn of the previous year, when the decision to strike the Central Plains had been made, Adiya Khan had set his subordinate noyon to preparing for war.
They bought iron for every ulus, forging arrowheads, spears, and armor. They built battering rams to smash gates and prepared the frames for catapults to assault walls.
Catapults were slow; normally one felled local timber near the enemy and built them on the spot. But because they had ample time to prepare, they even stockpiled the materials in advance.
Provisions were gathered in abundance as well.
Through Persian merchants they purchased vast quantities of wheat, steamed and dried it into preserved rations, and smoked mutton and horse meat so it would keep for long campaigns.
At last every preparation was complete.
Adiya Khan summoned his noyon and convened a council.
“As descendants of Chagatai Khan, second son of Genghis Khan, we shall reclaim our ancestral lands and avenge the grudges of our forefathers.
Using Yunnan Province as our foothold we advance into the Central Plains. Complete occupation and subjugation can wait; first we will smash only the armies with swift advances and seize the entire Jiangnan region south of the Yangtze.
Our goal is Nanjing. We boldly abandon the lands north of the river.
Even Genghis Khan conquered only the Jin; he did not conquer the Southern Song. It was Kublai Khan who later subdued the Southern Song.
We will reverse that order: take the Jiangnan lands that once belonged to the Southern Song, and conquer the northern regions step by step afterward.
Thus in later generations we shall hold the entire Central Plains and proclaim to the world the revival of our Chagatai Mongol Empire, heir to the banner of the Great Yuan!”
His eyes blazed with the lust for conquest.
“After that, only westward! West, and west again! Shatter Khwarezm, pass through Persia, and recreate the great deeds of Genghis Khan!”
“Ooooooh!!!!”
“Let us go! The Central Plains await us!”
As the noyon roared in answer to Adiya Khan’s command, the noyan and nökör raised their weapons and answered in kind.
Thousands upon tens of thousands of gers began to move, drawn by horses.
Seen from a height, the sight was almost majestic—as though an entire city were on the march.
A nomadic host hundreds of thousands strong.
The fate of the Central Plains that must face it looked as fragile as a candle in the wind.