The Forbidden Garden — 6
“They say Dangga Pungun Volume 3 goes on sale tomorrow!”
A few days after Tang Pae and his party had arrived, the news everyone had been waiting for rang out through the Sichuan Tang Clan.
“What?! Is that really true?”
“They’re distributing it from noon tomorrow in front of the Young Clan Head Hall. Finally, we’ll get to see Dang Jeong and those two sisterly swordswomen!”
People had been worried something had gone wrong, what with Volume 3 failing to appear right away. Hearing that there was no problem after all, everyone who caught wind of the news breathed a sigh of relief.
“Excellent! We must move at once.”
Several members of the Tang Clan rose from their seats and turned to leave.
“Where are you all going?”
“To the Young Clan Head Hall!”
“The distribution is tomorrow.”
“That’s exactly why we have to go now!”
“……?”
“What in the world is this?”
The next day, the crowd that had flocked to the Young Clan Head Hall at the news of the release could not hide their shock.
“Why is the line so long?”
An uncountable mass of Tang Clan members had gathered in front of the hall, as if they had materialized out of thin air.
“Don’t even get me started. The moment the rumor spread, people started laying down spots and camping out in front of the hall. I’ve lived my whole life in the Sichuan Tang Clan, and I’ve never once seen anyone sleep outdoors here.”
“What?! That actually happened?”
The Tang Clan was full of guest lodgings, and yet people were camping in front of the Young Clan Head Hall. No one had ever witnessed such a sight, and the crowd stood aghast.
“I asked the Medical Pavilion men who escorted Author Hopil, and they said this is just everyday life at the Daseogak.”
“Good heavens. We came early in the morning, but at this rate there might not be enough copies left for us.”
Stacks of books were visible in the distance, but the line stretched just as far.
They had waited for this day with bated breath. Terrified that they might fail to read Volume 3 today, some people sprinted over and joined the line at once.
“At last, I shall read Dangga Pungun Volume 3.”
“Months of waiting for Volume 3! Every single day was agony, like living in a house with a wife!”
“What did you just say?!”
“W-wife? Why are you at the front of the line?!”
“See you in a bit!!!”
“Hahahaha.”
At a scene where only one man could not laugh, the whole line burst out laughing.
“By the way, where did the friend who was supposed to come with us go? There’s only one copy allowed per person.”
A Tang Clan warrior asked a guard who had come to join the line from the outer courtyard.
“Guests arrived from the Moyong Clan all at once, so he had to go work.”
The guard answered with a sigh of sympathy.
“From the Moyong Clan? Why didn’t you go?”
“The Moyong people said they didn’t want to cause a stir, and that they’d rest quietly and be on their way.”
“What business could they have, all the way from the distant Moyong Clan?”
“How should I know? Just get in line.”
Countless guests came and went at the Sichuan Tang Clan every day. A visitor from the far-off Moyong Clan was noteworthy, certainly, but nothing extraordinary.
“But why on earth are they distributing it in front of the Young Clan Head Hall of all places?”
One Tang Clan warrior glanced toward the entrance of the hall in the distance as he spoke.
“Right. Isn’t the Young Clan Head receiving treatment and recuperating in another land?”
“The troops guarding the hall have nothing to do, so I suppose they were put to work on this.”
“Tsk tsk. People really do talk without thinking, like licking the outside of a yogurt pot.”
A man who worked as a scribe for the Tang Clan clicked his tongue and turned around at the voices behind him.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“A new work by Author Hopil is released at a place where the Young Clan Head is absent. There’s clearly a political intent mixed into this.”
The scribe shrugged his shoulders with an arrogant expression, as if he were some master strategist.
“No way?! The succession question?”
Several people who had been eavesdropping on the scribe reacted with exaggerated alarm.
“Exactly. Right now, people have quietly moved past admiring Author Hopil to lamenting that Young Master Yunho left the clan. The Clan Head may well be lending his unspoken support to that sentiment.”
“I see. Now that I think about it, this is no ordinary matter.”
It was widely known that Kang Yunho himself had stood before the Clan Head, declared himself not his son, and departed after renouncing every right he might have had. But who could truly know the heart of the Clan Head?
It was only natural such talk would circulate.
“Don’t spout nonsense.”
A warrior dismissed it as utterly absurd.
“Nonsense? Think it through. This could be the chance of a lifetime to climb the ladder.”
“The one who chose the distribution site was the First Elder. The First Elder, who supports the Young Clan Head! And the rest of the Council of Elders agreed as well.”
The warrior shattered the scribe’s idle speculation in a single stroke.
“What?! The Council of Elders endorsed it? Then why on earth—”
The questions of the scribe and those around him were answered in an instant, along with a shout.
“The distribution of Dangga Pungun Volume 3 shall nowwwww beginnnnn!”
“Waaaaaaah!”
“Ahem! At last, shall I lay eyes on Dang Jeong again?”
For at the very front of the line of people waiting for Volume 3 stood someone entirely unexpected.
“Oh?”
“Yes, First Elder. Here you are, right away.”
Tang Pae handed the First Elder a copy of Dangga Pungun Volume 3.
“Is that the First Elder? And aren’t those the Council of Elders behind him?!”
“Heheheh! My apologies to you all, but I shall be the first in the Tang Clan to read Volume 3!”
The First Elder held the volume aloft, his face glowing with satisfaction.
Why on earth were the First Elder and the elders standing at the very front of the line? Why had the Young Clan Head Hall been chosen as the distribution site? The latecomers could make neither head nor tail of it.
That is, until one warrior who knew all the facts spoke up.
“The truth is, the elders’ quarters are right next to the Young Clan Head Hall.”
“…….”
It was a reason almost too simple to bear.
The Patriarch Hall of the Sichuan Tang Clan.
Outside, the release of Dangga Pungun Volume 3 had thrown everything into an uproar, but the atmosphere inside the Patriarch Hall was markedly different. Tang Baekho, the Clan Head, gazed at the guest who had brought unexpected news from the Moyong Clan.
“You say the Clan Head of the Moyong Clan has been poisoned by an unknown toxin?”
The visitor had arrived without warning, declared the matter of grave importance, and requested a private audience—so Tang Baekho had wondered what it could be. Never had he imagined news like this.
“Yes. We reasoned that the Sichuan Tang Clan could surely cure it, and so we raced here from Liaodong without a moment’s rest.”
The face of Moyong Seop—leader of the delegation, a distant kinsman of the Moyong Clan, and a member of the Changbong Corps—was etched with the fatigue of more than half a year on the road, yet his eyes burned with the resolve to bring home someone who could cure his lord, whatever it took.
I must not mention the Demonic Cult.
Moyong Seop, a middle-aged warrior with plenty of experience beyond his homeland, laid out a plausible pretext that even the Tang Clan Head could accept.
Liaodong happened to be a land teeming with barbarians and the power struggles and schemes of the mighty, so it was easy enough to announce the Moyong Clan’s dire news without ever mentioning the Demonic Cult.
“The Meteor Sword Master. I met Lord Moyong Cheon a few times myself. He was a paragon of a Clan Head, one who poured his very bones and marrow into his family.”
At Moyong Seop’s account, Tang Baekho recalled the Moyong Clan’s head, Moyong Cheon.
He was not merely the lord who had spent a lifetime of effort reviving a fading family; he was also the warrior who had revealed to all of Murim the fearsome might of the Meteor Sword Technique, the Moyong Clan’s secret art.
That such an exemplary lord, both as a patriarch and as a martial artist, had fallen to poison—Tang Baekho could not conceal his astonishment.
“If the Sichuan Tang Clan will only lend us its aid, the Moyong Clan will never forget this debt. Beyond the gifts we bring today, we have prepared every courtesy, including the finest ginseng—”
“There is no need.”
The Clan Head said it with a smile.
“I beg your pardon?”
He would not accept their tokens of sincerity? Could it mean he would refuse to help? Moyong Seop stared at the Clan Head in shock.
“Of course I will help you. The gifts are more than enough—spend the rest of your wealth on the Moyong Clan itself.”
As the head of the Sichuan Tang Clan, Tang Baekho had no intention of turning a blind eye to those bound to him by ties of fate.
“Is— is that truly so?”
“The Meteor Sword Master himself would hardly come in person, so did you bring a separate record of his symptoms?”
“Here are the symptoms and treatment records, written by a man who once served as a royal physician.”
Moyong Seop handed Tang Baekho the paper bearing the Moyong Clan Head’s symptoms.
“Let me see. ……Hm?”
As he read through Moyong Cheon’s symptoms, the Clan Head’s brow creased in an instant.
The smile that had lingered on Tang Baekho’s lips vanished before anyone noticed, and his gaze fixed upon the paper as though nails had pinned it in place.
“Do you recognize this poison, my lord?”
“The symptoms have a familiar ring to them.”
“Then— then do you know the cure as well?!”
That a poison countless physicians had not even recognized should be familiar to the Sichuan Tang Clan—could they know its cure too? A flush of hope briefly colored Moyong Seop’s face.
“……Give me some time to look into this poison.”
The Clan Head’s answer was not what Moyong Seop had expected.
“What do you mean by that, all of a sudden?”
“I merely found the symptoms familiar. The physician of our clan who would know this poison in detail is away on a journey, so I shall send word to him. Rest for now, and I will have an answer for you.”
The Clan Head’s resolute gaze turned upon Moyong Seop.
It was a dismissal—there was nothing more to discuss. Moyong Seop abandoned any hope of further conversation and offered his thanks to the Clan Head.
“Yes. I shall withdraw and wait.”
So that word of his clan’s plight would not spread, Moyong Seop was escorted by a servant and moved with the rest of the delegation to a quiet lodging.
“Clan Head. You called for me.”
Summoned from the Patriarch Hall, the Head of the Medical Pavilion hurried to the Clan Head’s side.
“Pavilion Head. Come and read this.”
With a grave expression, Tang Baekho handed him the paper recording Moyong Cheon’s symptoms.
“What is this? Who has been poisoned?”
“It seems Lord Moyong Cheon of the Moyong Clan has fallen to an unknown toxin.”
“The Meteor Sword Master? Was he not simply taken ill?”
“Rumors in the murim sometimes spread precisely to obscure the truth.”
“Let me read it carefully. ……Hm?”
The Pavilion Head’s brow knotted at once. His reaction closely mirrored the Clan Head’s upon reading the same paper.
“Can you tell what poison it is?”
“I could hardly fail to, when I’ve seen these symptoms every single day.”
The Pavilion Head lifted the paper with an expression of loathing.
That Tang Baekho, head of the Sichuan Tang Clan, and Dang Mugi, Head of the Medical Pavilion, should react identically was only natural. The contents written there described symptoms they knew all too well.
“Tang Geohu, as I thought. It is that man’s poison.”
A deep sigh rose from Tang Baekho’s chest.
“Yes. The very poison that was used against the Young Clan Head. But how does it come to be in the Moyong Clan?”
“A martial family that stands as the face of an entire province. The poisoned parties are the Young Clan Head of the Sichuan Tang Clan and the Clan Head of the Moyong Clan. Remarkably, they share a great deal in common.”
“You don’t mean—”
The Pavilion Head’s eyes went wide.
“It is the Demonic Cult.”
A poison from the Sichuan Tang Clan at the far western edge of the Central Plains had been used in the Moyong Clan’s Liaodong at the far eastern edge. There was only one connection that could explain it.
The Demonic Cult.
“It seems Tang Geohu handed his poison over to them. Does the Moyong Clan know?”
“Their representative kept explaining, yet somehow always skirted around the heart of the matter. I’d say they suspect, at the very least.”
“Then someone defected—someone whose exposure would be as shameful as Tang Geohu’s, unfit to ever hold their head up again.”
“At minimum, from the Council of Elders down; at worst, the direct bloodline itself.”
Tang Baekho nodded at the Pavilion Head’s reasoning.
“Press them as we might, they will never confess. Just as we kept the Poison Human affair hidden from the outside world, they would sooner die than bear the disgrace.”
“Many in Liaodong covet the Moyong Clan’s seat, so it would be all the more so. Now I understand why they came all the way to Sichuan as quietly as possible.”
The Sichuan Tang Clan had poured enormous effort into rooting out Tang Geohu and everyone connected to the Demonic Cult after the Poison Human affair.
That the Moyong Clan had issued no official statement was perfectly understandable.
“Do you intend to help them?”
One misstep could entangle them with the Demonic Cult once more. The Pavilion Head asked with worry in his voice.
“I have promised to help. And in any case, the poison used against the Moyong Clan’s head is a poison of our own clan, is it not? As Clan Head, I must take responsibility.”
Tang Baekho had no intention of turning away an outstretched, pleading hand.
“Truly worthy of the Clan Head.”
The Pavilion Head bowed his head, sending his Clan Head a look of deep respect.
“Can it be cured?”
“Far too much time has passed since the poisoning. ……But the Tang Clan has a child who can cure any poison there is.”
The poison Tang Geohu had crafted with all his obsessive care had defeated the healers of the Sichuan Tang Clan and the Zhuge Clan alike, leaving countless physicians waving their hands and confronting the limits of their art.
That, however, had been true only until very recently.
There was already someone in the Sichuan Tang Clan who had cured that very poison.
“Tang Hwarin. Bring that child to me.”