The Mantid Maiden's Gambit
"Tell Turshan we'll be returning his gift."
The situation had turned dangerously tense. Moyong Sang-ah gathered every scrap of intelligence she had and reached a decision with startling speed.
"You mean to send the Jurchen assassin's blade back to him?"
The vice commander tilted his head at the unexpected order.
"Tell them to come and collect it themselves."
"Might I ask why?"
Determined to carry out his lord's command without the slightest error, the commander of Changbong Corps sank to one knee and looked up at her.
"I want to see how this Turshan reacts. Begin a show of force around the investigation teams searching the Hall of Accomplished Martial Archives. The moment news of the assassins reaches him, he'll have to move."
"Did you not wish to avoid unnecessary bloodshed?"
A show of force. Did that not mean marching out armed to menace the Jurchen directly?
The vice commander could not help but be startled by an order that ran so contrary to the policy of avoiding conflict they had followed until now.
"The circumstances suggest someone is trying to drive a wedge between us and the Jurchen. But I cannot be certain. And if word of the assassins spreads and we leave the tribes be, they may panic and turn to the Demonic Cult on their own."
Moyong Sang-ah continued her explanation, making sure the Changbong Corps would faithfully execute her intent.
Were they simply a decoy meant to bleed her forces in a war of attrition? Or were they secretly allied? She could not know for certain. But there was no need to sit and wait for the answer.
I may not know the situation, but I know the intent.
She had her brother's game figured out. He wanted her squandering her strength on the search for the archives — and if the Jurchen ran wild in the meantime, he would count it a bonus.
Besides, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
If she allowed them time, the two forces would inevitably find some way to unite.
"So even without knowing their exact circumstances, the outcome remains the same."
Moyong Sang-ah nodded to her vice commander, who had only just managed to follow her reasoning.
"Though this affair does hand us an advantage as well."
"And what advantage might that be?"
"We now have just cause to strike at Turshan's tribe."
Moyong Sang-ah laid out the winning card she had found.
"You mean to defeat them one by one before they can unite? I'll prepare at once."
Battle was his domain. The vice commander rose briskly to his feet.
"No. That is exactly what they want. I have no intention of dancing to their tune."
The moment a war of attrition began, the rumors would spread. From then on, confrontation with the Jurchen during the search for the archives would become unavoidable, forever.
Moyong Sang-ah shook her head.
"I would hear more of your intent, my lord."
Her lord's depths were hard to fathom. Deciding it was better to learn how his blade wished to be wielded, the vice commander chose to listen a while longer.
"Just cause is not only a reason to draw a sword. It is also a weight you can set upon the scales of negotiation."
"A weight?"
Moyong Sang-ah curled her lips into a cold smile and clenched her fist, as if seizing victory itself.
"I hold the justification, so I must make them move as I please. I won't give them time to think. Begin the show of force immediately, and this Turshan will scramble for a way to save his own skin. He'll send an envoy, without a doubt."
"And when the envoy comes, what message shall we deliver?"
Moyong Sang-ah gathered her thoughts.
The situation swirled dangerously. It was like swordsmanship. If your opponent's blade weaved in confusing patterns and you simply waited for them to finish preparing, you were only offering up your neck.
While the enemy was still unready.
While their opening was widest.
You thrust. Fast.
"Tell him to crawl before me. And tell him that if he fails to explain himself in time, this will not end with a mere show of force."
The initiative was hers. She would not grant them time to unite.
It was like walking across thin ice. Yet the woman standing here now was no despairing soul praying for a stroke of luck — she was the leader of one of the greatest powers in Liaodong Province.
Moyong Sang-ah knew how to keep walking toward the next step before the ice could crack.
The Jurchen reaction was swift.
The master of Changbong Hall had been attacked by assassins. And one of those assassins was said to be of their own tribes.
The martial artists of the Moyong Clan were now rampaging freely through the Jurchen camps. For the moment it was only intimidation, but no one could say when blood would actually spill.
"Chieftain Turshan is waiting for you in his tent."
Chieftain Turshan had urgently requested the meeting with Moyong Sang-ah.
"Lead the way."
At the very heart of the lands where Turshan's tribe lived, Moyong Sang-ah arrived with the Changbong Corps and strode boldly toward the great tent.
"A woman, leading a tribe...?"
"Careful. One of the clans that went raiding Pioneer Village was wiped out to the last man."
Deep in enemy territory as she was.
The woman called Moyong Sang-ah showed not the slightest trace of intimidation. With every step she took toward the tent, the Jurchen flinched and scrambled out of her path.
It had only been a brief display of force, but her orders had already planted enough terror in the Jurchen's hearts.
"Presenting the Lady Moyong Sang-ah, Master of Changbong Hall of the great Moyong Clan!"
Not everyone was frozen in fear, of course.
"Isn't that a bit grandiose? I only asked for introductions."
The moment Moyong Sang-ah stepped into the tent, she was greeted by a mocking voice.
The man was built like a fortress. His broad shoulders were packed with muscle, and he stood a full head taller than the other Jurchen in the tent.
Chieftain Turshan.
Above his unkempt beard, a pair of openly provocative eyes made it plain at a glance who ruled this tribe.
"Quite the crowd of retainers you keep for a simple greeting."
The Jurchen warriors stood at rigid attention inside the tent, coiled tight as bowstrings.
Moyong Sang-ah brushed off Turshan's hostile stare as though it were nothing, and answered his mockery with mockery of her own.
"Kwah! So you've come to see the men of the Moyong Clan — of course my underlings worry for me. I am Turshan, chieftain of the tribes that rule this whole region."
Turshan extended a hand the size of a small pot lid toward her.
"Moyong Clan. Master of Changbong Hall. I am called Moyong Sang-ah."
I have no intention of shaking your hand. Moyong Sang-ah offered nothing more than a shallow, perfunctory bow of her head.
"Tsk. Do the men of the Central Plains greet people with their faces covered?"
So she'd landed the first blow. Turshan scowled deeply at the woman wearing a myeonli — a veil of fine silk over a frame — and pressed her.
"You there! How dare you speak to my lord that way!"
One of the Changbong Corps raised his voice.
"No, really. The men of the Central Plains may wear smiling faces over other expressions, but surely one ought to show one's face and speak plainly?"
"You dare! My lord is hardly someone the likes of you may look upon—"
"That's enough. Unveil."
Good. Now I've landed one of my own. Turshan smiled inwardly as Moyong Sang-ah reached up to her veil with utter nonchalance.
His opponent was the Moyong Clan. But he was chieftain now — he had to preserve the dignity of his office, even if the clan itself was cut in half. He steeled himself.
"Right. I suppose such a precious face must be covered, after all. Hm?"
Turshan's mouth hung wide open.
He'd been planning to fight for the initiative with whatever tricks he had to resort to — and then his mind went blank as fresh snow.
"Kuh—?!"
"Gah!"
"Hnngh! This...!"
It was as if a quiet midnight had suddenly descended upon the tent that had been roaring with noise only moments before.
One moon hung there — so beautiful it bordered on painful, like the moon in a night sky.
"Allow me to introduce myself once more. I am Moyong Sang-ah."
Thought stopped. What had he been about to say? Emotion drained away. He could hardly breathe.
At a beauty none of them had ever seen in their lives, every Jurchen gathered in the tent found their minds simply cease.
"L-let's, let's begin the talks."
Until one of them, barely recovering his senses at last, managed to stammer out those words, they all had no choice but to stare slack-jawed at the face of a single woman.
"They acted alone. A clan of ours died at the hands of the Moyong Clan, so their blood must have boiled to the very tips of their heads — they couldn't think straight."
Turshan's excuse differed little from the one after the Pioneer Village raid: not my fault, no man can control all his tribesmen.
He was doing everything he could to dodge an apology and squirm out of a corner.
"Then I suppose my own men, angry as they are, could take it upon themselves to act alone as well."
Moyong Sang-ah spoke with frigid eyes, as though she had anticipated every word of his excuse.
"A-are you declaring war?!"
"War?"
As if she might have misheard, Moyong Sang-ah stared at him with wide, unreadable eyes.
"W-well, isn't that what it sounds like?!"
"Right now."
Moyong Sang-ah's footsteps blurred.
"M-my lord!"
"Are you discussing war in front of the Moyong Clan?"
By the time anyone realized what had happened, Moyong Sang-ah was already standing before Turshan's very eyes.
How — how is that possible? A bristling killing intent bore down on Turshan. Her presence pressed upon him like something about to take his life that very instant.
"Ugh!"
This is impossible. I can't move. Crushed under the pressure enveloping his whole body, Turshan groaned in spite of himself.
"I showed you leniency once — did you take that to mean I would show it again?"
I'm being crushed by a woman smaller than my own daughter?
Turshan's eyes trembled without mercy.
"W-what are you doing to our chieftain!"
One of the panicked bodyguards moved his hand toward his blade.
"Draw it. If you want to learn exactly how much of this I'll tolerate."
Moyong Sang-ah's menacing aura spread through the tent like spilled ink.
Only then did the Jurchen inside grasp the truth: they were not surrounding that woman — that woman, alone, was surrounding all of them.
"We weren't here to n-negotiate... after all?"
As the pressure bearing down on him alone eased slightly, Turshan gasped out his question. His earlier swagger had vanished entirely.
"It seems that because my clan passed through a brief period of weakness, you've forgotten what house I come from. Very well. If you wish it, I'll make you understand what my surname means."
"Y-you...!"
One of the Jurchen tried to hurl a curse at her, but under Moyong Sang-ah's aura his teeth could only chatter.
The tent was overflowing with armed men — yet in this place, at this moment, the only one with any authority to draw a sword was Moyong Sang-ah.
"If you lack the confidence to bare your fangs, don't bother barking."
Her voice, cold as an ice blade driven into the gut, drove the Jurchen back.
Silenced, they could only stare at her.
A beauty that seemed not of this world — and yet it felt as though she might take their heads at any moment.
The Mantid Maiden.
A beautiful face concealing a cruel, hidden blade.
Only now did the Jurchen truly understand why the woman before them was known to the world by such a name.
"Even for the Moyong Clan, such an insult is—"
He could not simply back down. Just as Turshan moved to resist—
"If you won't bark, then wag your tails. Do that, and I'll give you what you want."
Moyong Sang-ah had not come merely to terrorize them.
"What we want?"
What she wanted was the search of the Hall of Accomplished Martial Archives. She wanted the Jurchen to stop interfering. She wanted them to keep their hands off the Demonic Cult. She wanted them to play along.
Moyong Sang-ah drew back her suffocating aura a fraction, and made her proposal to the stunned tribesmen.
"I will open the Horse Market for you."
"Th-the Horse Market?!"
"Did she say the Horse Market?!"
Every Jurchen in the tent stared at her in open disbelief.
"By my own power, I will reopen a market that has not been held for decades."
Moyong Sang-ah nodded again, as if to confirm it. Their shock was only natural.
The Horse Market.
Though called a market, it was in truth nothing less than trade between the Jurchen and the Central Plains. The lands where the Jurchen lived were the most barren in all of Liaodong.
On ground too poor for farming, even grain was hard to come by, let alone daily necessities.
A reopened Horse Market meant their impoverished lives could finally improve.
"The horses we possess are no ordinary number, I'll have you know."
Turshan asked, still only half-believing.
"Did the woman standing before you look ordinary to you?"
"..."
The Jurchen knew full well. The wealth this woman commanded was the greatest in all of Liaodong Province.
"Choose."
Bare their fangs — or wag their tails?
Only moments before she entered the tent, some of these men had been clamoring openly for war.
Yet faced with sweet profit, not one of them did not bow his head to Moyong Sang-ah.
"You've worked so hard for us, my lord."
On the road back from the negotiations, one of the Changbong vice commanders spoke with a bright face.
"I've only just managed to get a hand on the reins of a galloping wild horse. It's far too early to relax."
"Just as you instructed, we scouted the enemy camp in the confusion and found evidence of a secret meeting with Moyong Bi."
"So we were one step ahead."
Thank heavens. Not too late. Only then did Moyong Sang-ah finally breathe an inward sigh of relief.
"Truly remarkable. Who could have imagined you'd find the answer in a Horse Market that's been closed for decades? I certainly couldn't."
"I simply had no wish to hand anything for free to men who plunder the innocent."
It was the fortune Sang-gong had left her. She could not squander it carelessly, Moyong Sang-ah said flatly.
"If we can host the Horse Market under our own auspices, holding the Jurchen's reins will only be the beginning — we'll strengthen our forces and sell their horses into the Central Plains at a handsome margin!"
Once the Jurchen got a taste of the Horse Market's honey, they would never dare attack the Moyong Clan again. No — they would grow ever more wary, ever more deferential. And the horses of these foreign tribes fetched a premium price in the Central Plains.
To both tame the Jurchen at her whim and profit from it.
The vice commander could not help but marvel at his lord's stratagem.
"It will serve us well when we search other regions for the archives, too."
"I'll task the retainers of the merchant houses under our banner with it. And..."
The vice commander glanced at his lord with a slightly awkward expression.
"Is there something else you wish to say?"
"News has just arrived from Joseon."