Aftermath (3)
Of late, one name had become the talk of Wuhan in Hubei Province more than any other.
It was Cheonhwa — third-generation disciple of the Zhongnan Sect, and the Flash Sword Dragon who had played so decisive a part in resolving the jiangshi crisis.
Simply walking the streets was enough to draw crowds of people who recognized him and pressed in for even a single word of conversation. There were those who knocked on the Martial Alliance’s doors solely for the chance of forging a connection with him. Caught in a popularity he had never anticipated, Cheonhwa found himself unable even to leave the Alliance grounds.
I went through something similar after the Wol-ak affair, but this is worse.
Perhaps it was because this was the provincial capital of Hubei rather than some small county in Shaanxi. The sheer number of visitors — and their standing — was incomparable. People’s goodwill was welcome enough, but past a certain point it became nothing but a burden.
If only Junior Sister Jeokhwa or Senior Brother Myeonghwa were here…
Jeokhwa would have whispered how best to handle the guests; Myeonghwa would have lightened the load with that silver tongue of his. The faces of his other martial siblings — Yeonhwa, Yeobhwa, and the rest — flickered through his mind one after another. In his heart he wanted nothing more than to leave Martial Alliance Headquarters that very moment and return to the Zhongnan Sect.
It isn’t only me who was here. Why is everyone looking for me alone?
Cheonhwa felt a strange dissonance in the present situation, yet he could find no clear explanation for it. In the end, all he could do was receive each visitor with polite courtesy.
After one such round of guests had left him mentally drained and slumped in exhaustion, Chief Administrator Byeok Seonggun paid a call.
“Forgive me for disturbing your rest, Daoist Cheonhwa.”
“Not at all. You must be buried in the aftermath yourself, Chief Administrator. Thank you for coming. What brings you today?”
“As you know, a great many people have been calling on you of late. I hear you have been receiving guests without a proper chance to rest, let alone train.”
“Yes… somehow I have attracted more attention than I deserve.”
“If things continue this way, you will not get a moment’s peace until you leave the Alliance. We thought we might ask the visitors for their understanding on the Alliance’s behalf.”
Worry colored Byeok Seonggun’s gaze as he looked at Cheonhwa. Purely and simply, it seemed to trouble him that the young man could neither rest nor recover while fending off callers. After the mental fatigue of the past days, such consideration warmed Cheonhwa’s heart.
“I understand. Thank you for the consideration.”
“Not at all. To me — and to the Martial Alliance — you are a benefactor. We are only doing what is proper. If anything, I am sorry we did not speak of it sooner.”
“How could that be your fault, Chief Administrator? No one could have expected the interest to swell this far.”
“True enough. I anticipated a certain degree of attention, but never that it would grow to this.”
Byeok Seonggun nodded at Cheonhwa’s words. When a great incident occurred, public interest was only natural — yet the focus now pouring onto Cheonhwa had become burdensome. The Chief Administrator judged that people were seeking a hero because the times felt so unsettled.
In chaotic ages, folk always look for a champion.
In that light, Cheonhwa — who had rendered such signal service against both the assault on the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering and the jiangshi invasion — possessed every quality that drew the eye. Youth could be read as inexperience; from another angle, it meant room still left to grow. Having reached the Peak Expert realm before even passing the age of twenty, he inspired the hope that, given time, he might climb to Super Expert… or even Peerless Expert.
I only hope he is not crushed beneath their expectations.
Expectation could be a prop that held a man up; it could also become a stone that pressed him down. At the very least, Byeok Seonggun meant to lighten that weight for the young Taoist before him, if only a little. It was one of the few things he, as Chief Administrator, could do for the benefactor who had saved both the Alliance and himself from crisis.
While the two men were still conversing, the steward in charge of the lodgings arrived and announced:
“Daoist Cheonhwa, a guest has come to see you.”
“What nonsense is this? I gave orders that no more outside visitors were to be admitted.”
It was Byeok Seonggun, not Cheonhwa, who answered. He had specifically instructed that no one else be received after himself so that Cheonhwa might rest. How, then, had a guest gotten through?
The steward looked apologetic.
“I told him as much, but he was utterly insistent.”
“Hah. Who on earth behaves with such arrogance?”
“It is Young Master Namgung Yo, second son of the Namgung Family.”
At the steward’s words, Cheonhwa tilted his head. Namgung Yo was the martial artist who had led the Namgung Family’s combat force in the battle against the jiangshi horde. Why would such a man seek him out?
“I had better go and see him.”
“Are you certain, Daoist Cheonhwa?”
“He may have something important to say. And he is the younger brother of Hero Namgung Myeong — I would feel uneasy simply turning him away.”
“Mm. If you put it that way, there is little choice. I shall wait here and enjoy a quiet cup of tea.”
“Thank you for the consideration, Chief Administrator.”
Cheonhwa expressed his gratitude and followed the steward out of the room. Namgung Yo was waiting in the reception chamber prepared within the lodgings. True to their blood, his face resembled Namgung Myeong’s, yet there was something lighter, more casual, about his bearing.
Once the steward withdrew and the two of them were alone, Cheonhwa offered a formal greeting.
“I am Cheonhwa, third-generation disciple of the Zhongnan Sect.”
“Namgung Yo of the Namgung Family. As expected of the famous Flash Sword Dragon — even getting a look at your face is no easy feat.”
Cheonhwa had been told the man had bullied his way into an audience, yet Namgung Yo’s manner was unhurried, almost leisurely. The discrepancy left Cheonhwa faintly suspicious. What business had brought him here?
“I was told you sought me out in some haste. May I know the reason?”
“A few questions of my own. It seemed I would never get another chance to meet you, so I insisted a little.”
Namgung Yo studied Cheonhwa for a long moment before continuing.
“Up close you look even younger than I thought. For someone of such junior standing to leapfrog everyone else and snatch the commander’s seat… quite the feat.”
“……What exactly are you trying to say?”
“Was that too hard to follow? Then I’ll be blunt. Does the Zhongnan Sect mean to claim a major seat in the Martial Alliance once it is reorganized?”
Suspicion glinted in Namgung Yo’s eyes as he regarded Cheonhwa. The attention now flooding toward the young man, the achievements he had displayed in the jiangshi affair, the fact that someone who ought to be on Mount Zhongnan was here in Wuhan and, by coincidence, the center of every gaze—
Someone is pulling strings behind the scenes. That much is certain.
The misunderstanding had arisen because Namgung Yo had known only that his elder brother was hosting a banquet; he had not known whom the invitations had gone to.
“…….”
Cheonhwa was so taken aback that words failed him. Namgung Yo took the silence for confirmation.
“Nothing to say? So I struck the mark. Ambition for high office already, and at such a junior rank… however worldly the Zhongnan Sect may be, that is hardly the bearing of a Taoist.”
Namgung Yo glared and sneered. To dismiss another man’s exploits as mere schemes for personal gain, and to do so to his face, was little short of open insult. Anger would have been only natural — and anger was precisely what Namgung Yo wanted.
Rattle a man and his true colors come out all the easier.
His reason for coming and staging this little performance was simple. He had led a combat force to aid the Martial Alliance, yet every tongue spoke only of Cheonhwa. He had leaped to the conclusion that some plot was afoot to check the Namgung Family.
I may fall short of him in martial strength, but he is young — his grasp of strategy should still be shallow.
Anyone hungry for rank would find such belittling of his achievements deeply offensive. How did Namgung Yo know? Because he himself was exactly that sort of man. He had been certain Cheonhwa would react the same way.
Why is he just sitting there quietly instead of getting angry?
When the expected reaction failed to appear, Namgung Yo was still puzzling over it when Cheonhwa, who had kept his silence, finally spoke in a measured voice.
“By that logic, Hero Namgung Myeong — who summoned me here and supported my appointment as commander — would be part of the same conspiracy, would he not?”
“What?”
The reply sent a visible tremor across Namgung Yo’s face. He had known that Cheonhwa had received backing on the path to command. Even outstanding ability would not have been enough for someone of such junior standing to claim the post without the endorsement of figures others would respect. He had assumed the support had come from the Nine Great Sects side. Why, then, was his own elder brother’s name being mentioned?
“……You invent lies just to throw me off!”
Namgung Yo decided Cheonhwa’s words were a desperate ruse. There was no reason for the young master of the Namgung Family to step forward and endorse another sect.
At that moment a new visitor strode into the reception chamber.
“Everything Daoist Cheonhwa has said is true. I declared my support — as did Brother Paeng, Monk Beomhye, and Daoist Heogong.”
“Elder Brother…!”
The newcomer was none other than Namgung Myeong. He looked toward Cheonhwa and bowed his head in apology.
“I heard my younger brother was here and came to fetch him, never imagining he would be causing such trouble. As his blood kin, allow me to apologize in his stead.”
Beside him, Paeng Mu-jin — who had entered with him — gave a hearty laugh.
“Well now. It seems I am not the only one who has been remiss in educating a younger brother, eh, Brother Namgung?”
“Haah. When I heard about Paeng Gun-ak I simply laughed it off. I never thought it would become a story of my own house.”
Listening to the exchange, Namgung Yo’s pupils wavered.
“Elder Brother, what are you saying? That you supported this greenhorn?!”
At those words Paeng Mu-jin’s smiling face twisted sharply. Cheonhwa was one of the foremost contributors who had risked his life against the jiangshi and led the battle to victory. To call such a man a greenhorn was to slight not only Cheonhwa, but every participant of the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering and every ally who had fought beside him under his command.
“Who,” Paeng Mu-jin growled low, “did you just call a greenhorn?”
The pressure of a Peak Expert crushed down upon Namgung Yo. He stood speechless, his body trembling finely.
“Brother Paeng, withdraw your aura. This is a matter I must settle myself.”
Paeng Mu-jin reined in his presence and nodded. Namgung Myeong opened his mouth in a quiet voice.
“Full responsibility for this incident lies with our family.”
When the jiangshi horde first appeared, the Martial Alliance had proposed that they join forces to resolve the problem. It was the Namgung Family that had stubbornly refused cooperation, insisting they could handle it alone. As a result the jiangshi had broken out of Jiangsu and advanced all the way into Hubei. Had the Namgung Family not opposed so fiercely, the matter would have been settled within Jiangsu’s borders.
“B-but our family sent a combat force to aid the Martial Alliance!”
“That was merely what was proper. Having swollen the crisis through needless obstinacy, the least we could do was help clean it up.”
“That may be so, but—”
Namgung Myeong cut his brother off with a gesture.
“This is a time for our family to feel the weight of its responsibility and practice restraint. Yet you come to Daoist Cheonhwa — who stepped forward to resolve the crisis — and cast such aspersions? Apologize to him at once.”
Namgung Myeong rebuked his younger brother with quiet dignity. When Namgung Yo still hesitated, unable to collect himself, Namgung Myeong sighed and spoke again.
“In the first place, Daoist Cheonhwa is not someone you can handle. He not only took the championship at the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering — he has now surpassed the Peak Expert realm.”
“Th-the Peak?!”
“As you are now, no scheme of yours would stand a chance. And by your own words, the Namgung Family would become the house whose young master was defeated by a greenhorn.”
Namgung Yo’s face went deathly pale.
Elder Brother, whose side are you on?!
He wanted to cry the words aloud in grievance, yet the fierce light in Paeng Mu-jin’s eyes and the realization that his own remarks had nearly dishonored the Namgung name itself filled him with dread.
“I… apologize for the baseless accusations, Daoist Cheonhwa.”
“I accept your apology.”
The moment the apology was done, Namgung Yo fled the reception chamber as if escaping. He had tried to play a clever hand and received full measure in return.