The Assassination Plot
From the day Hong Ilgon resigned to save the Elder Council and stepped down, he withdrew from every public affair of the Sichuan Dang Family and secluded himself.
As the council’s representative, he had held power nearly equal to the Family Head’s. With his resignation, that authority flowed entirely into the Family Head’s office.
The elders were relieved that his sacrifice had spared them the worst of the damage, yet they fretted over the council’s precarious future. If the elders’ powers were curtailed, they would no longer be able to skim profits from the various businesses their families ran as they always had.
The elders of the council gathered in the meeting hall with dark faces to discuss what lay ahead.
“Where is Elder Hong Ilgon?”
“He hasn’t taken a single step from his residence, and he’s seeing no one.”
“Hrm… What in the world is he thinking…?”
“You don’t suppose he means to simply retire like this?”
“Unlike us, Elder Hong has connections among every circle of influence in Sichuan. Losing power in the Dang Family will hurt him, but not as badly as it will hurt us.”
“The Elder Hong I know would never withdraw so quietly. He’s gathering strength and waiting for his moment. Wouldn’t you agree, Elder Jang Gil-yeong?”
At the other’s words, Elder Jang Gil-yeong, who had been sitting in grim silence, let out a sigh.
“If it’s Elder Hong, he might well do so. But… I doubt it would change anything.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that for a comeback now, the Young Master has already grown too large.”
The purse strings once held by Gong Duchan’s faction were now firmly in the grip of Jin Cheong’s. The restaurant trade, the ironworks—both had been major sources of revenue for the Elder Council, and both now stood with the main line. Even the greatest cash cow of them all, the textile branch, had lost its head when Hong Ilgon stepped down. What elders remained were husks. In truth, the council’s authority had already collapsed.
“That boy is a monster. Not a monster of martial arts—a monster of innovation and business. Can you even imagine what unheard-of scheme he’ll produce next? Do you truly believe he has already shown us every trump card in his hand? I don’t. And yet he already spoke of reviving the Hidden Weapons Division. He has plans in place for things we haven’t even begun to anticipate.”
Jang Gil-yeong’s voice was like a crow croaking an ill omen.
“He already holds the absolute trust of the Provincial Governor’s Office, and the revenue from the state projects will, for years to come, be larger than anything our entire branch families could match no matter how hard we work. The more results he produces, the higher the Family Head’s office will rise—and the further our authority will shrink.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
“We have to choose.”
“Choose?”
“Go back thirty years… or hone our blades and wait for a chance that may never come.”
“….”
“….”
A heavy silence settled over them. Neither path was easy.
At that very hour, Hong Ilgon—whom everyone believed to be shut away in his rooms—had slipped from his house in secret and was meeting Songhak Jin-in, Sect Leader of the Qingcheng Sect.
To meet Songhak Jin-in unnoticed, he had long ago built a hidden passage into his own home. It ran from an old well in the inner courtyard down into the earth, and its exit was another old well behind a small shrine at the foot of Mount Qingcheng. Only a handful of people even within the Qingcheng Sect knew of that well’s existence, so neither the Gale Corps watching Hong Ilgon’s residence on Dang Un-sang’s orders nor anyone else had noticed his departure.
There was, however, one problem.
“…That’s Hong Ilgon, isn’t it?”
“Where’s he going?”
“That direction leads to Mount Qingcheng…?”
It was impossible to slip past every pair of eyes belonging to the Minjeongwon, whose agents were woven through Seongdo like a spider’s web. His movements were reported through Ye-eun to Hui-yeom.
“Well now. Look at this one.”
Hui-yeom smiled an unreadable smile.
“Master, we have no choice left. Even if it costs us, Dang Hui-yeom must die.”
Meeting his master after so long, Hong Ilgon spoke in a hard, decisive tone.
“He is no green boy. He is a monster. Having watched everything he has done, I find it nearly impossible to imagine him stumbling by his own mistakes no matter how long we wait.”
“Hrm… I never expected the boy to possess such monstrous talent for management either. He can’t have run a great sect before, yet there isn’t a single gap in anything he does.”
Songhak Jin-in also sighed. Gone was the confidence with which he had once predicted that an untried youth handed great enterprises would inevitably produce discord somewhere.
“The flow of funds is transparent. The use of materials and manpower is beyond reproach. Whenever a problem looks ready to erupt, he presents improvements and solutions as if he had already read it in advance. Even when we drive our spies to try and stir chaos over issues that have already broken open, the cleanup is absurdly fast. Above all, to leave not even the slightest room for misunderstanding about the flow of money, he publishes the figures every month for anyone to inspect. Lately he has even been sending those documents separately to everyone who invested in the ventures.”
“I heard. ‘Letters to Our Investors,’ was it?”
“Yes. What was spent where and how much, how much came in, and where that money will be put next. When investors can recover their capital, and from when interest can be paid and at what rate. He has gone beyond opening the ledgers—he produces a full report every time. Balance sheets, consolidated cash-flow statements, income statements… documents I have never heard of in my life, yet when I read those three, the state of the business is as clear as the palm of my hand. That is how I learned: this is a business that cannot fail.”
“….”
A twenty-first-century financial report was the distillation of a hundred years of capitalism. To the merchants of the Central Plains, who had not even known double-entry bookkeeping, it was pure cultural shock.
“Because of that, I looked a fool for urging people not to invest in his so-called ‘state projects’—or ‘ruined projects,’ as I called them. Ever since I opposed the night-soil subscription scheme, people have been restless, and now there are those who pick holes in every word I say. I must have sat in the sect leader’s seat a little too long. Ha ha…”
The atmosphere inside the Qingcheng Sect was unsettled as well. In truth, succession to the leadership of Qingcheng had long been deferred. With Hong Ilgon’s help, Songhak Jin-in had been chipping away at the Dang Family’s real power and funneling it little by little to Qingcheng; the credit for that had given him an iron grip on discourse, and thus he had been able to remain sect leader. But a string of missteps had eroded that authority, and suspicious eyes had begun to wonder whether his sense for managing a sect was failing.
The seat of sect leader was not a position that passed by right from master to disciple. Even among Taoists devoted to the Way, there were always those who hungered for power. Quietly, they were increasing the pressure for Songhak Jin-in’s retirement.
“Yes. You’re right. The boy is a monster. He must be removed. Will you place a contract with the Assassin Hall?”
“The Assassin Hall is out of the question. Setting success or failure aside, they would use it as leverage to keep me under their thumb for the rest of my life.”
“Come now… would an assassin sect truly do that? If they did, who would ever hire them again…?”
“If they could get their hands on the Qingcheng Sect, it would be well worth the risk! And who would ever know? Not unless we went around broadcasting it ourselves!”
“….”
“In that case the Sichuan Dang Family would fall under the Assassin Hall’s control—not Qingcheng’s.”
“But didn’t someone place a contract with the Assassin Hall not long ago?”
“That man was an idiot.”
“Hrm…”
Songhak Jin-in’s eyes narrowed.
“Then what is it you wish to ask of this master of yours?”
“Give me the Crimson Haze Sword Ghosts.”
The Crimson Haze Sword Ghosts. At those words, Songhak Jin-in’s face hardened.
“How do you know of that…?”
The Crimson Haze Sword Ghosts were Qingcheng’s secret weapon—men who handled, in the shadows, the filthy work a prestigious orthodox sect could never do in the open. Their martial skill was not especially high, but because they performed acts no famous righteous sect ought to perform, they were regarded as both a hidden blade and a disgrace. A concealed awl is always more terrifying than a drawn sword. A sharp dagger that can strike an enemy’s unguarded vital point—and a poison that, the moment it is revealed, can destroy Qingcheng’s reputation. That was how the sect regarded the Crimson Haze Sword Ghosts.
They were a secret among secrets; only the sect leader and a few elders knew they existed. Hong Ilgon held his tongue, but Songhak Jin-in had already guessed the answer and scowled.
“So I see. You have been dealing with those rats as well—not only with me. Disciple.”
“You misunderstand. I did not approach them. They approached me.”
“….”
“If I had intended to betray you, Master, I would never have revealed this at all.”
“Then why keep it secret until now? Were you not playing both sides between me and the elders?”
“I feared it might needlessly invite your suspicion. I did not wish to trouble you with knowledge you did not need.”
“…”
“Believe me, Master. Even if things have shaken a little of late, have you not held the throne of Qingcheng firm for decades? What could I possibly gain by betraying a master such as you? And how many years has this disciple served you in loyalty?”
“…Very well. I will trust you.”
The light of suspicion had not fully left Songhak Jin-in’s eyes, but for now he chose not to press further.
“But the Crimson Haze Sword Ghosts are our absolute last resort. They must never be exposed to the outside. Have you any good method?”
“To hide a tree, hide it in the forest. To hide an assassin, hide him among people.”
Hong Ilgon said,
“In a fortnight, the Young Master will travel to Yellow Dragon Valley. He is scheduled to commend the limestone quarry workers, distribute a special bonus, cultivate goodwill with the local gentry, and return. The road from Seongdo is long. On the way back, at the moment when their guard has relaxed, I will have soldiers prepared, dressed as Green Forest bandits. The Sword Ghosts will hide among those soldiers; when the soldiers draw every eye and chaos breaks out, they will approach in secret and kill him.”
“An excellent plan. But how will you find the soldiers? The boy’s renown is high throughout the Seongdo region, is it not?”
“We need only goad the Yeowangchae thugs he drove from their dens. Even if it comes to light, the Dang Family will assume it was revenge for casting those men out. I will handle it cleanly.”
At Hong Ilgon’s words, Songhak Jin-in broke into a broad smile.
“So if you disguise Yeowangchae—Yama’s Debt—as Green Forest outlaws, it becomes Yeowangchae—Yama’s Den? Ha ha ha! Delightful. Very well. I will give you one Crimson Haze Sword Ghost. Inform me once the detailed plan is ready.”
“Only… one Crimson Haze Sword Ghost?”
“What, are you dissatisfied?”
“….”
Hong Ilgon looked at his master with unmistakable discontent, but Songhak Jin-in remained unmoved.
“Be grateful I am sending even one. You know that even for me, this entails considerable risk.”
He felt the crisis Hui-yeom represented and knew his standing within the sect had begun to waver—yet he still did not take the threat as seriously as he might. Perhaps, in his heart, his suspicion of his own disciple, Hong Ilgon, still loomed larger.
“…Yes, Master.”
In the end, Hong Ilgon could only bite his lip and nod.
“Before long, Hong Ilgon will likely plot my assassination.”
While the family sat together in Dang Un-sang’s rooms, chatting over a quiet cup of tea, Hui-yeom dropped the remark as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.
“Hui-yeom, dear, what on earth are you saying?”
“Your grounds?”
Facing his startled family, Hui-yeom answered calmly.
“It seems he has been visiting the Qingcheng Sect in secret.”
“Qingcheng? Qingcheng is of the orthodox path. Why would they—?”
“If that were not the case, there would be no reason for him to seek them out in secret at a time like this. He almost certainly has some arrangement with a particular figure in Qingcheng.”
“There is sense in that.”
Unlike his startled mother, Eun Seol-ran, Dang Un-sang nodded.
“Seeing how quietly he stepped down, that is almost certainly what he is doing. I had suspected as much.”
“Surely not, my dear? That old man Hong is no fool. Why would he try to assassinate Yeom? And Qingcheng is of the same orthodox path as we are. However cool our relations may be, would they truly try to murder the Young Master of our house…?”
“I do not believe the whole of Qingcheng is conspiring to assassinate him. But if there is someone in Qingcheng colluding with Hong Ilgon, it would not be strange for the two of them to scheme an assassination together.”
“But…”
“Above all, Hong Ilgon has been far too quiet. His meek withdrawal from the council was odd enough—but this silence is worse. He is surely aiming for some fatal stroke. And a fatal stroke, in all probability, means he intends to kill Yeom.”
The reasoning could hardly go any other way. There had already been an earlier attempt on Hui-yeom’s life, and the Elder Council’s situation was desperate beyond measure.
They have no room left. Money, popular support—even the authorities—stand with us. The sects, Emei among them, look on us with favor as well. To overturn a board tilted this far… they would have no choice but to resort to extreme measures.
As if driving the final blade into that suspicion, Hui-yeom added,
“Throughout history, men cornered into a last gamble have not been rare—men who stake their lives on a foolish choice for a single chance at reversal.”