Uninvited Guests
On the road that ran from Yichang all the way to Chengdu in Sichuan Province stood a certain roadside inn.
A group of purple-haired martial artists set their luggage down inside it.
The other guests in the common room did not let their faces show anything, yet they had no trouble guessing exactly who these newcomers were. Even in a world where hair came in every color under the sun, there existed only one martial order whose members all shared that distinctive purple.
The Sichuan Dang Clan.
The sight of people from the house that could rightly be called the hegemon of Sichuan Province instantly tightened every throat in the inn.
“I told you so.”
“You won’t regret it.”
Two of the Dang Clan warriors paid the tense atmosphere no mind; they had grown thoroughly used to it. Instead they pressed something upon another of their clansmen.
From a distance the other guests watched the three men and half-convinced themselves that, true to Dang Clan form, these fellows were simply foisting some dubious medicine on one of their own.
The reality was rather different.
“You’re strong-arming me into reading a novel? We failed every objective we came to Hubei for, and now you want me to sit around reading storybooks on the way home?”
What the two warriors were thrusting forward was a copy of Dangga Pungun they had bought in Yichang.
“I used to think the same way,” said the one who had once scolded the whole party for stopping at Daseogak.
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a reason. Look, man—we failed. Fine. Are you going to keep moping forever? Will sighing until the earth caves in or staring at the sky as if it might fall change a single thing?”
“Exactly. At times like this the nation has kindly provided us with a divine medicine—this novel. Read it and restore your spirits.”
“You couldn’t find the medicine you were ordered to find, so both of you went mad together? You two never used to get along. Why are you suddenly finishing each other’s sentences today?”
The warrior being pressured looked from one face to the other with pure disbelief.
“Maybe because this is the first book that actually satisfied both of us at the same time?”
“What kind of book could that possibly be?”
“Dangga Pungun! The hero himself is a son of the Sichuan Dang Clan!”
The man holding the volume lifted it triumphantly so the title could be seen. Contrary to his expectations, the third warrior’s face twisted the instant he read the words.
“Which mad bastard is using the Dang Clan for his latest stunt now?”
He refused the book, yet that did not mean he never read novels. A Dang Clan protagonist? And these two were recommending it? Every portrayal of the Sichuan Dang Clan he had ever seen in fiction had been anything but flattering; the scowl came automatically.
“Listen here! This isn’t one of those books. The hero in this one is a true man of the Sichuan Dang Clan!”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No it isn’t, you—you of all people shouldn’t talk like that.”
“If the idea is that we all get properly furious and go hunt the author down, I’ll skip the reading and just help. I’ve been in a foul mood; a little exemplary punishment would do me good.”
Suspicion still plain on his face, the man eyed the volume.
“Man! What kind of orthodox talk is that? This is exactly why ordinary folk keep misunderstanding the Sichuan Dang Clan.”
“They crossed the line first—why shouldn’t we?”
“Would you say that in front of the Clan Leader?”
A low, measured voice cut through the three warriors’ bickering.
“Lord Uigakju!”
“Weren’t you resting, sir?”
The middle-aged man who had spoken was the head of the Medical Pavilion—the division that handled all medical affairs within the Sichuan Dang Clan—and the officer currently in command of the entire party returning to Chengdu.
The three martial artists snapped into bows at his sudden appearance.
“I came out because of the noise, and I heard some rather interesting talk. So. If a mere scholar crossed the line, what exactly did you intend to do about it?”
Uigakju fixed his gaze on the warrior who had shown open hostility toward Dangga Pungun.
“Books like that only deepen the misunderstandings people already hold about the Sichuan Dang Clan, sir. If the contents prove insulting, I believed an example needed to be made.”
The man averted his eyes and offered the feeble excuse.
“And what did the Clan Leader tell us before we departed?”
“…That outsiders already harbor misconceptions and prejudices about the people of the Sichuan Dang Clan, and that we must therefore always conduct ourselves with the greatest care.”
An orthodox house that specialized in poisons and hidden weapons. Even though the martial world formally recognized the Dang Clan as righteous, its arts were forever regarded with wary eyes.
“Precisely. The Clan Leader has spent a lifetime trying to change those misconceptions and prejudices—through countless good deeds and chivalrous acts rather than force of arms. And you would dare disregard his command? The one who needs an example made of him right now is not some scholar. It is you.”
“I—I beg your forgiveness!”
At the word “example” the warrior dropped to his knees at once and pressed his forehead to the floor.
“Very well. What is this book, then? Important enough that you would recommend it even while we return empty-handed?”
Uigakju looked down at the kneeling man with a bitter expression, then turned to the two warriors who still clutched the volume and clearly had no idea what to do with themselves.
“Haha… Lord Uigakju, that is…”
“It’s called Dangga Pungun, sir—wildly popular in Yichang these days. Far from stirring up further misunderstanding about the Sichuan Dang Clan, it actually corrects those misunderstandings and restores the true spirit of the orthodox path. A magnificent novel!”
The man who had earlier vanished and then reappeared to thrust the book on his companion now stood frozen as if struck by paralytic poison the moment Uigakju appeared. Seeing this, the third warrior hurriedly leapt to the defense of Dangga Pungun.
“A popular book I never heard of once the entire time we were in Hubei Province?”
“I looked into it, sir. It’s published by only one bookstore in Yichang, and no matter how many copies they print they still run out. That is why the fame has not yet spread beyond the city.”
“Is that so?”
“If… if Your Lordship finds the contents displeasing, we will destroy the book and accept punishment together with this fellow.”
Both men lowered their heads, watching Uigakju’s expression carefully.
“No need. If the two of you praise it that highly, there must be reason. In fact this is fortunate. Everyone’s spirits are low; a book that speaks well of the Sichuan Dang Clan is something we should all pass around.”
Uigakju smiled at the two crestfallen warriors.
“Truly, sir?”
“Yes. Show it first to the man on his knees, then circulate it among the rest of the party.”
“Understood!”
“And you—once you have finished, write me your impressions. I will decide what sort of example is required after I read them.”
“Th-thank you, sir!”
With that final word to the kneeling warrior, Uigakju turned and disappeared back to his room.
“The greatest beauty of Sichuan as principal wife? Just because he met her first? By that logic my childhood friend and I would already be married!”
“That’s what you get for taking a fish already in the net for granted.”
“Annoyingly true. Still annoying!”
“Tsk tsk. Those two are at it again with their pointless arguments.”
Another peaceful day at Daseogak. Scholar Son—who had been the very first customer on opening day—watched the members of the Daseo Society with open pity and then turned to me.
“It isn’t nothing at all. The battle for principal wife is both nothing and everything at once.”
Thanks to the customers who kept coming specifically to debate who deserved to be principal wife, Daseogak’s sales continued their skyward climb.
“Tsk tsk. I understand the urge, which is exactly why the argument is meaningless.”
“You understand yet still call it meaningless?”
“Dang Jeong’s principal wife is neither the greatest beauty of Sichuan nor the foremost courtesan of Hubei. It is someone else entirely.”
Ah. So that was it. Scholar Son was the type who disliked the earlier heroines and therefore pinned all his hopes on the ones who had not yet appeared.
“That is a fresh perspective. Then who, in your estimation, will become the principal wife?”
“Ahem. That is a secret. But I am certain.”
He avoided my eyes as though the subject embarrassed him. Please let him not be the sort who ships the color-obsessed pervert as principal wife.
“Haha. You love Dangga Pungun so much, Scholar Son—why not join the Daseo Society?”
Out of respect for whatever his tastes might be, I took two careful steps backward while speaking.
“Conversing with complete strangers? That is no simple matter.”
“Yet here you are conversing with me.”
“Manager Kang is already this Son’s friend. Ahem.”
He looked away, the picture of a man forced into an awkward confession. Since when were we friends?
“Hahaha. Still, it never hurts to have more than one friend who shares your interests.”
“A true bosom friend is enough if there is but one.”
When exactly did our relationship get upgraded to “bosom friends”? If there’s ever a demotion tournament, put my name down.
“Depth of friendship is important, of course, but bread—”
“I have something extremely important to say to my true bosom friend, Manager Kang.”
Scholar Son cut me off and fixed me with a suddenly solemn face.
“What is it?”
Surely not another request for one more stamp on his loyalty coupon. I asked lightly, expecting nothing of consequence.
“Are you aware that people of the Sichuan Dang Clan passed through Yichang not long ago?”
The words that came out of his mouth were nothing I had anticipated.
“Yes, I know.”
I still remembered the cold sweat that had run down my back when a purple-haired man walked in holding a copy of Dangga Pungun.
“It is rare for members of the Sichuan Dang Clan—not merely people of Sichuan Province—to appear in a group, so I made a few quiet inquiries. What I learned proved most interesting.”
“What interesting news?”
“Ahem. Come a little closer.”
After a furtive glance around the room, Scholar Son beckoned me nearer.
I had no desire to feel a man’s breath on my ear, yet the news sounded intriguing enough that I leaned in just far enough to keep his exhalations at a safe distance.
“They say the Clan Leader of the Sichuan Dang Clan’s only son fell into critical condition while training in poison arts.”
“A Dang clansman training in poison arts… fell critically ill from poison?”
What was this, a shark drowning while swimming?
“Either he was poisoned while handling an extreme toxin, or he suffered qi deviation during training and has not regained consciousness. That is the rumor.”
“Come now. Surely just empty gossip.”
“Listen here! Do I look like the sort who would peddle empty talk to his bosom friend? They even sent men to the Zhuge Clan—with whom their relations are less than cordial—begging for a solution. Anyone who knows anything knows that is first-rate intelligence.”
“Heavens. Even the Zhuge Clan?”
The brains of the martial world: the Zhuge Clan.
They claimed descent from the legendary Zhuge Liang of the Three Kingdoms and stood as the premier martial house of Hubei Province, just as the Dang Clan dominated Sichuan. In every wuxia story that featured a Martial Alliance, the identity of the Alliance Leader might change, yet the military strategist’s seat was invariably occupied by a Zhuge. The notion that every descendant of a famous strategist must also become a strategist always struck me as thin, yet in every martial world the absence of a Zhuge as strategist felt somehow incomplete.
In this world, too, the Zhuge Clan reigned supreme in formations, medicine, and the art of war.
If the Dang Clan had been forced to seek help from the house they regarded as a rival, the situation must be truly dire.
“And the problem is that even the Zhuge Clan could offer no solution. With the sole heir of the Sichuan Dang Clan hanging between life and death, the atmosphere inside the clan has grown extremely grim.”
“I see.”
“It is not a matter that ends with ‘I see.’ You sell Dangga Pungun here at Daseogak. Imagine what reaction you would get if a copy ever fell into the hands of actual Dang clansmen.”
Scholar Son’s voice was thick with worry.
“Haha. Dangga Pungun never paints the Sichuan Dang Clan in a bad light. What is there to worry about?”
A Dang clansman had already come, after all, and left nothing but praise.
“I worry because I worry. When the mood is foul, even good things look bad. What one person finds harmless another may find as irritating as a thorn in the eye. And martial artists, my friend, are the sort who draw swords over thorns.”
“Living in constant fear of maybes is a sure way to starve. Still, thank you for the good information.”
I had not been entirely free of such worries while writing the book, yet the very group Scholar Son feared had already read it and given high marks. There was little reason for further alarm.
“Is that so? Well then…”
Scholar Son nodded and began rummaging in his sleeve.
“Do you have something for me?”
More news about the Sichuan Dang Clan, perhaps? He finally produced an object and held it out.
“In that case, as an information fee, would you stamp my coupon once more?”
So that had been the real goal all along.
Once Uigakju himself had given permission, the spread of Dangga Pungun through the Sichuan Dang Clan party took almost no time at all.
“What a marvel of a book!”
“Just how good can it be to get everyone this excited?”
“Let me see it too!”
“Dang Jeong is truly the chivalrous hero of our age!”
“Every son of the Sichuan Dang Clan should read this at least once. No—when we return to the main house I must show it to the entire clan.”
Seated around tables with their meals, the Dang clansmen began talking of nothing but Dangga Pungun.
“A Poison-Killing Space and Triple Poison… what kind of mind even conceives of such things?”
“From the sound of it, the author himself is of the Sichuan Dang Clan.”
“Truly? Now that you mention it, it does seem so. A collateral-line kinsman writing to clear the family’s name, then.”
“Lord Uigakju must still be reading late into the night in his room.”
One warrior sipped his tea and glanced toward the closed door of Uigakju’s chamber.
“After the way this fellow raved and sprayed spit while praising it, how could the Lord refuse to read?”
“No need to emphasize that part.”
Who would have guessed the book would prove so entertaining? The man who had, in complete ignorance, demanded that the author be made an example of now flushed with shame at the memory of kneeling before Uigakju.
“I can already picture the enraptured look on His Lordship’s face when he comes out.”
“He’ll come out looking as hollowed-out as this bastard here.”
“I’m telling Lord Uigakju you said that.”
“Y-you wouldn’t! After all the wine I’ve bought you—”
“Haha. Only a joke.”
The entire party watched the door of Uigakju’s room with eyes bright with anticipation.
They had been talking for quite some time when the door finally opened and Uigakju stepped out.
“Lord Uigakju?”
“Is something the matter?”
Contrary to every expectation, the expression on Uigakju’s face was neither rapturous nor drained. It was stiff with gravity.
“This book. You said you obtained it in Yichang?”
He approached the table and lifted the volume of Dangga Pungun.
“Yes, sir. At a bookstore called Daseogak in Yichang.”
“A popular work published only by Daseogak… that implies they hold an exclusive contract with the author, does it not?”
Uigakju’s face remained hard as he pressed for confirmation.
“Yes. They have an exclusive publishing agreement with a writer who uses the pen name Hopil.”
“I see. Hoo…”
He closed his eyes and drew a long, deep breath.
“Lord Uigakju? What has happened to put that look on your face?”
The warrior who had answered him asked carefully.
Uigakju did not reply at once. He looked slowly around at every man who was watching him, then spoke in a voice ringing with resolve.
“We turn around at once. We return to Yichang.”