Make the Dang Family Great Again
The demonstration was a resounding success.
Dang Un-sang was overjoyed. He established a new Plaster Bureau and placed it under Hwi-yeom’s charge, and overnight Hwi-yeom’s name rang through the family as a prodigy.
That evening, back in his room, Hwi-yeom buried his face in his hands and let out a long sigh.
“Ha… That rotten old coot was being such a bastard I just snapped and went for the throat. Did I come on too strong? Tch…”
Publicly humiliating Elder Hong still sat poorly with him.
“In this life I really was going to live decently… Damn this temper of mine…”
He smacked his own head hard enough to make it ring, wallowing in regret for a moment before the rationalizations started rolling in.
“No. If I’m going to get what I want, I had to break him once. Looking at the way this house is run, a proper housecleaning with the Elder Council is inevitable… but right now I have neither the justification nor the strength.”
He flopped onto the bed and rolled around like a log, then suddenly sat bolt upright. From the stack of papers on his desk he dug out the sheet buried at the very bottom and unfolded it.
It was an organizational chart he had pieced together not long after learning to read—under the pretext of “wanting to understand the family’s personnel structure”—cross-referenced with every scrap of gossip he had pried out of the servants.
“Let’s see… Elder Council… Hong Ilgon… here he is… Hmm?”
As he scanned the notes on the elders, a sly grin spread across his face.
“So the Elder Council isn’t a single beast either. Of course not—they’re a pack of jackals that gathered for the same piece of meat. If I play this right, divide-and-conquer might just work.”
He thought for a moment longer, then began scribbling furiously. Roughly two hours later he examined the finished page, wore a thoroughly sinister smile of satisfaction, and tossed the paper into the brazier, watching it burn to ash.
“Good. That should do for the rough outline… For now I need to focus on racking up results. Neither Un-hwa nor Elder Hong is going to sit still and watch.”
He sprang to his feet and headed for the Family Head’s Hall, still wearing that same crooked smile.
“Might as well plant one good thorn for deterrence.”
“You want Elder Bak Chang-eon’s help distributing the finished product?”
It was the Hour of the Dog—between seven and nine in the evening. Not the dead of night, but still an impolite hour for an unannounced visit. Listening to his son’s request, Dang Un-sang furrowed his brow.
After watching him put Elder Hong in his place this morning, I assumed the boy already understood the rivalry between the Elder Council and the Family Head’s Hall… but perhaps a child is still just a child after all.
Deciding this was the perfect chance to teach the boy the political dynamics a family head and young master needed to know, Un-sang considered how best to explain the tangled mess, then finally spoke.
“Why would you think of such a thing?”
“To lodge a small thorn in the throat of the Elder Council.”
Hwi-yeom’s answer was anything but ordinary.
“What?”
“Father, are you familiar with the old tale of the Gathering of the Nine Wolves?”
“The Gathering of the Nine Wolves? No, I have never heard of it.”
Of course he hadn’t—Hwi-yeom had invented it on the spot—but Un-sang felt no suspicion. He simply accepted that such a story must exist.
Hwi-yeom continued the lie without so much as wetting his lips.
“Long ago the tiger, king of the mountains, found ruling his domain alone too troublesome, so he took nine wolves as his trusted retainers. Yet…”
The tale that followed went like this:
The wolves who had once submitted to the tiger began plotting to kill him and divide the territory the moment his fangs fell out and age weakened him. When word of the conspiracy reached the tiger and filled him with worry, a wise crane appeared and offered counsel:
‘Divide the domain among the nine wolves, but promise to give it only after Your Majesty the Mountain Lord has died. To the strongest and most cunning wolf, however, allot the smallest and most barren patch, and give the rest unequal shares of varying size. Then…’
The tiger heeded the crane carefully and summoned the wolves.
‘For many years we have ruled these mountains together. Now I am old and sick, my days few. In recognition of your long service, I shall divide my domain among you upon my death.’
He parceled out the land exactly as the crane had advised. Afterward the tiger used the excuse of worsening illness and never again left his den.
The wolves, for their part, immediately forgot the tiger and began quarreling among themselves. The strongest wolf, enraged at receiving the tiniest share, attacked the others. Fearing their own lands would be stolen next, the remaining wolves banded together and tore the strong one apart.
Once two of the nine were dead, however, the question of how to redivide those two territories became a fresh seed of discord. The wolves fought; feelings curdled; fangs were bared. By the time they came to their senses, more than half their number lay dead and the survivors were grievously wounded.
‘This is no time for us to fight among ourselves.’
They stopped the bloodshed and divided what remained. Each wolf went off alone to the broad territory he now claimed. Swollen with pride, fancying themselves mountain kings, they never noticed the tiger who came “to inspect the allotments” and destroyed them one by one. Scattered and wounded, even an aging tiger could pick them off with ease.
“…And that is how the story ends.”
Dang Un-sang listened to the long tale with a grave expression and nodded.
“A most pointed fable. There is much to learn from it. So you mean to sow internal strife among the elders of the Council?”
“Does not The Art of War teach that the highest form of victory is to win without fighting? For you to appear openly opposed to the Elder Council would itself diminish the prestige of the family head. A family head must reign simply by existing. No one should ever think of him as an opponent who can be challenged. To that end, Father, you must remain still and use your limbs to check the Council.”
“When did you read The Art of War?”
“I have been reading it of late to pass the time.”
“Hah… You really are…”
Un-sang stared down at his son for a moment in pure incredulity, then ruffled the boy’s hair and smiled.
“Was my seed truly so fine? How did such a genius come from me?”
“When both seed and soil are excellent, a fine harvest is only natural, is it not?”
“Hahaha!”
Pleased by the shameless flattery, Un-sang laughed heartily, then wiped the smile away and asked with the solemn face of a family head:
“You are not simply puffed up because you clipped Elder Hong’s pride the other day, are you? Those elders are old monsters who have weathered every storm. Elder Hong let you catch him by the tongue only because he never expected a child to talk back so brazenly and spoke carelessly. If you assume the others will be that easy, you will suffer for it.”
“I have engraved every word upon my bones.”
“Have you? Then answer me: why Elder Bak? And how do you intend to use him to ignite internal strife in the Council?”
“Not use—reward. Just as the mountain king gave the largest domain to the weakest wolf.”
“Explain.”
“Elder Bak belongs to the Council, yet his faction is weak.”
“True enough. He was originally a chief steward. The steward’s seat sits at the family head’s side and can grasp the entire household, so it ought to be a post of great power… yet precisely because of that, the other elders hemmed him in until his authority shrank to almost nothing. Ah—so that is why Elder Bak?”
“Yes. He is a starving wolf.”
“And because he began as a steward, he should by rights stand closer to the Family Head’s Hall than any other elder. For that same Hall to extend a hand to him now… Hmm…”
Un-sang smiled thinly.
“One more question. Did you truly think of this yourself?”
“This unfilial son is too dull to have devised anything better.”
“You little rascal!”
Beaming from ear to ear, Un-sang swept Hwi-yeom into his arms and lifted him high.
“A seven-year-old who talks like a seasoned elder… Did you reincarnate as one of those Western lamas or something?”
“F-Father, really, what an absurd joke! Ahaha… I can’t even… Ah, the absurdity…”
Hwi-yeom froze like a wooden doll, cold sweat prickling his spine. Un-sang gazed at him with fond amusement, nodded, and set him back on the floor.
“Very well. How shall I help you?”
“Tomorrow issue an order through the Spring Heart Courtyard and meet with Elder Bak yourself. Then, saying that my experience is still lacking, entrust him with the sale and distribution of the plaster and grant him three-tenths of the profits.”
“Three-tenths? Then our own share becomes far too small. An elder is still a vassal of the family. Is it necessary to give him so much beyond the stipend he already receives?”
Un-sang’s eyes were testing him. Hwi-yeom snorted softly.
The plaster was only one of countless products he intended to create. He planned to do business not merely with the Dang Family, but across all of Sichuan and eventually the entire Central Plains. Three-tenths of the plaster profits alone was a sum he could surrender without a second thought.
Of course he could not say any of that to his father yet, so he wrapped the truth in a plausible excuse.
“Who would willingly take on extra work if not even a few crumbs fall their way? Especially with the current chill between the Elder Council and the Family Head’s Hall.”
“Heh heh heh. Fair enough. Continue.”
“Yes. Once that happens…”
The conspiracy between father and son ripened quietly through the night.
The following day, after the midday meal had been cleared and tea was being poured, Elder Bak Chang-eon of the Elder Council arrived at the Plaster Bureau.
Gaunt and slightly stooped, Bak Chang-eon looked like an ordinary old man with no connection to martial arts. Yet the spirit of a man who had once served as chief steward in the days when the family was the greatest in Sichuan had not entirely faded; a cold, sharp light still glinted in the narrow slits of his eyes.
“Young Master, are you within?”
“Ah! Elder Bak, you have come. Please, this way.”
Unlike the fearless lecture he had delivered to Elder Hong, Hwi-yeom greeted Bak Chang-eon with a bright, ingratiating smile. With his small hands he personally steeped tea and asked,
“I trust the Family Head’s Hall has already given you the general outline?”
“…Yes. This old man still cannot fathom how any of this came about. And I am told the idea sprang from the Young Master’s own head?”
Hwi-yeom nodded.
“There is no need to overthink it, Elder Bak. In politics there are no eternal enemies and no eternal allies, are there? Besides, we are one family. Is it so strange that we should extend a hand and wish to grow closer?”
“The real question is why a hand that was never offered before is being offered to this old man only now.”
“I shall be frank, Elder Bak. We intend to split the Elder Council.”
“….”
“Look at the state of this household. It is as if the snake’s tail is trying to take the place of the head. We should be uniting every scrap of the family’s strength and advancing together, yet the Family Head’s Hall and the Elder Council are locked in a tug-of-war. How can anything come of that?”
“The elders move only out of a desire to see the family advance in a better direction.”
“Let us speak plainly. Most of those elders want the family to advance in a direction better for the branch houses and for their own personal glory, do they not?”
“Young Master. Baseless slander that one cannot take responsibility for is unseemly.”
“Elder Bak, you have already met with my father and finished the private conversation. Please stop testing me. Did Elder Gong Duchan push to change the medicinal-herb and poison suppliers our ancestors had traded with for generations for the sake of the family’s profit? Or was it for the sake of his wife’s family? And why did Elder Hong Ilgon insist on cutting the budget of the Poison Hall and transferring it to the Hall of Iron Rain? Outwardly he claimed it was to restore the Dang Family’s lost hidden-weapon arts, but in truth was it not to weaken the Poison Hall, where most of the main-line direct descendants are concentrated?”
“….”
Elder Bak said nothing, merely fixed his gaze on Hwi-yeom’s eyes as if trying to pierce straight through to the boy’s true intentions.
Hwi-yeom continued.
“I will share both money and real authority with you, Elder Bak. The rest of the Council will brand you a traitor, of course. But what of it? Even until now you have held only the empty title of elder while being treated as a plant for the Family Head’s Hall… no, no—an infiltrator—simply because you once served as steward under the previous family head.”
“That is true enough, yet…”
Hwi-yeom’s eyes gleamed.
“At first there will be only envy and jealousy. But once we begin sharing benefits with other sidelined elders as well, what becomes of the Council? Those already dissatisfied with the existing power structure inside the Council will cooperate with us if it means seizing the initiative. A hard-line faction will appear, insisting no one must fall for the Family Head’s Hall’s tricks. A conciliatory faction will appear, pretending to cooperate while actually becoming our agents. And a neutral faction will sit on the warmest part of the heated floor, arms folded, simply watching. When that happens…”
He drove the final nail home.
“We will cut out the cancerous tumors of the Elder Council and fill the seats with elders who are cooperative toward the family head. Only then can the Sichuan Dang Family make the great leap necessary to reclaim its former glory.”
“…Its former glory.”
“Elder Bak, I have heard that in my great-grandfather’s day the name of the Sichuan Dang Family shook not only Sichuan but the entire Central Plains. And now? The world mocks us as ‘Danggata’ and looks down on us. Why has it come to this? The loss of our hidden-weapon arts and martial techniques is of course a major cause, but the greater reason is that the family’s strength has been split in two. While the elders lock horns with the Family Head’s Hall, the family name rusts and its radiance fades. If the Dang Family falls so low that not even a cornerstone remains, the world will sneer that the greedy elders of the Council destroyed it with their own hands. This is the family you served under my great-grandfather and grandfather. Will you help it wither into misery, or will you take the Family Head’s Hall’s hand once more and help make the Dang Family great again? The choice is yours, Elder Bak.”
“….”
For a long moment Elder Bak squeezed his eyes shut. Then he opened them wide.
“What would you have this old man do first?”