The Tang Clan (1)

But the moment he entrusted it to an alchemist, the existence of the Empty Green Stalactite Oil would be known to the world. There was no hiding a thing like that from the Tang Clan's eyes, and if they pressed him for its source, he would have no answer to give.

Hyeong Jin's gaze settled, hard with resolve. He bent over the stone pool. A single drop of the oil clung to the bottom. He swallowed it without hesitation, crossed his legs, and sank into circulation.

At first the energy boring into his meridians was cool and clean. It did not stay that way. As if a riverbank had burst, a vast tide of yin energy crashed in all at once — cold and pure enough to sting the channels raw. His temperature plunged, and his whole body locked stiff, as though he had been flung into a killing frost.

The elixir's power ran wild, raking and tearing through his meridians, and bright blood burst from his nose. His mind went thin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and distant. Lose hold of it, and he would die.

He seized on the mnemonic of the Great Void Heart Method and recited it in a rush.

The unrest in his eyes sank away into stillness. As the method turned, Great Void qi unfurled from his dantian, and he wrapped the rampaging elixir in it, guiding the flood through every meridian. From the Huiyin point nearest the dantian, the energy passed in turn through Changqiang and Mingmen, gouging without mercy along the narrow channels. Wherever it went the meridians split and blood seeped free — yet the Great Void qi that followed wrapped each wound and knit the torn flesh back together. Destruction and renewal chased one another, and with every cycle the channels grew wider and tougher than they had been. Pain beyond words corded Hyeong Jin's brow with thick veins.

He drew the energy, now once around the body, back down into his dantian and clenched his fist. A little more than half of it remained. If he accepted the risk, he could still reach for the final gate of the Governing Vessel.

Breaking that last gate in the body he had now would be a wager staked with his life. Energy could be gathered again. Time would not wait. Scarcely two years remained before the Blood Cult moved and Jeomchang fell, and when a chance came he had to take even a single step farther.

He did not hesitate. He drove what remained straight into the Governing Vessel. The violent surge slammed into the final gate, and dark blood poured from his nose. Thud. Thud. Each impact rocked him hard, forward and back. Like a battering ram hammering a city gate, the energy struck again and again, and with every blow the elixir's strength bled swiftly away. Hyeong Jin raked together whatever was left and delivered one last strike.

Boom.

The taut thread of his consciousness snapped.

How long had passed? When he came to, Hyeong Jin sat for a time in silence, turning his awareness inward.

"So this is as far as it goes."

He set the regret ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠aside and took stock of the result with a cool eye.

He closed his fist lightly. Internal energy, fuller than anything he could once have compared it to, flowed unhindered out to his fingertips. By inner force alone, he stood at the middle of the Peak Realm. But the skill to wield qi was not chained to one's realm. So long as the experience and control he had forged as a Senior General remained, even a master of the late Peak did not frighten him.

The problem was his body. Unfold the arts of his past life through these bones and meridians, and his flesh would give out before his opponent did. A short fight, he could manage. Draw on more power, though, and the danger grew with it. The road toward the Transcendent Peak Realm was visible. His body simply was not yet ready to walk it.

Then his face twisted.

"Doesn't matter when I smell it. Still foul."

The blood from his nose was black as ink, and the pool on the ground gave off a vicious stench. He looked down at himself. His martial robes were a ruin of blood and expelled filth.

He made for the river he had noted earlier. Cold water cleared his fogged mind, and the current washed the dried blood from his body and his clothes. Once he had shaken himself dry, he returned to where the horse was tied. The upper robe would not lose its stink no matter how he scrubbed it, so in the end he buried it. A man wandering at midnight in nothing but wet trousers.

"A perfect deviant."

He gave his own state a bitter smile. He had no idea how much time had passed. He could only hope he was not late. Knowing his master's temper, botching the errand would not end well for him.

He stroked the black horse's mane.

"Hurry a little for me."

As if it understood, the horse snorted and pawed the ground. He put in the spurs, and it raced the night road like the wind.

"That man. What do you suppose he was doing on Mount Daliang?"

Dang Hwa brushed a finger along her chin.

"He said he likes the mountains, so he must have been admiring the view."

"All the way from Jeomchang to Sichuan?"

Dang Hwa's eyes narrowed. From the first moment she saw Hyeong Jin, she had thought the excuse thin. He claimed to be climbing, yet his gaze had stayed fixed on the collapsed cliff.

"He found something there. I'm sure of it."

"Young miss, you're starting again."

"He said he'd come to the birthday banquet, didn't he?"

The corner of her mouth tipped up, mischievous.

"I'll just ask him myself, then."

"Please, just ask him nicely and leave it at that."

Dang Hwa did not answer. At that, Seo Rin let out a long sigh, and so the two women of the Tang Clan left Mount Daliang behind them.

When Tang Clan Fort came into view, Hyeong Jin eased the black horse's pace. The first thing to catch his eye was the high outer wall enclosing the settlement. Watchtowers thrust up beyond the rooftops, and warriors stood posted at every turn — less a clan's homestead than a fortress in its own right. Inside the wall sprawled the quarters of craftsmen and merchants who lived under the Tang Clan's protection. Carts heaped with medicinal herbs came and went without rest, and from deep in the alleys the clang of hammers on iron never broke.

That great building would be the Tang estate. He guided the horse on. This was the Sichuan Tang Clan, whose name rang for poison and hidden weapons, and Tang Clan Fort was no mere clan village. It was as good as a city in miniature.

An Outer Court warrior rubbed his tired eyes and straightened his back. Into his sight came a very strange man. The trousers were martial garb, but the upper robe was gone — wherever he had left it — and the bare torso was on full display. The warrior nudged his companion.

"Hey. I must be more tired than I thought. Now I'm seeing things."

"Wake up. Don't let your guard down."

At that the warrior snapped back into posture. Just then the man in question reined in directly before them. Hyeong Jin swung down and took the black horse's reins.

"Whoa. You did well."

Both warriors set hands on their swords.

"Who are you? This is the Tang Clan. Declare yourself."

Hyeong Jin's hand moved toward his waistband. The warriors drew at once and leveled their blades at him.

"Move slowly."

He drew out his identity token, unhurried, and held it forward. The emblem of the Jeomchang Sect met their eyes. They sheathed in a hurry and offered cupped-fist salutes.

"Forgive the discourtesy. You've come from Jeomchang. Welcome to the Tang Clan."

Hyeong Jin returned the salute.

"I'd have drawn first, in your place. There's no need to apologize."

One of the warriors ran inside to report.

"Someone will be out shortly to guide you to the guest hall. Please wait a moment."

Am I late? His master's furious face rose before him, and Hyeong Jin squeezed his eyes shut.

"Might I ask when the Clan Head's birthday banquet is?"

The warrior's expression turned peculiar.

"Tomorrow. Wasn't that what brought you?"

Hyeong Jin swept a quiet hand over his chest. Made it.

A short while later Dang Hwa and Seo Rin came out from within, together with the Chief Manager of the Outer Court.

"We meet again, Young Hero Hyeong Jin."

Interest kindled in Dang Hwa's eyes as she took in the state of his dress. In that instant Seo Rin's hands covered them.

"Young miss, what are you staring at so shamelessly?"

Hyeong Jin smiled, awkward.

"Might I trouble you for a spare set of clothes?"

"Of course."

Dang Mu-baek caught the eye of the warrior at the gate, and the man ran inside. Only then did Hyeong Jin truly study the Chief Manager's face, and his own gaze shifted by a fraction.

Dang Mu-baek, the Life-Snatching Flying Dagger. A side-branch man who had reached the Transcendent Peak Realm at forty, and been raised to Chief Manager of the Outer Court in recognition of it. Hyeong Jin knew the name well. A man who smiled wherever he went — and did not smile when he killed. That was the rumor that followed him.

"Thank you."

"The Tang Clan is not so stingy as to deny a spare robe to a guest who has come a long way."

Dang Mu-baek gestured toward the inner grounds of the Outer Court. A warrior at his side took the black horse's reins from Hyeong Jin.

"Please, come inside first."

Hyeong Jin stepped into the Outer Court with Dang Mu-baek's party. Just then two men in blue Taoist robes came through the gate. Disciples of the Qingcheng Sect — Cheongpung, the eldest senior brother, and his martial junior, Cheongu. Their eyes found Hyeong Jin: trousers still half-soaked, and not a stitch of cloth on his torso.

Cheongu ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠let out a thin laugh.

"Hah. So the Tang Clan takes in beggars these days."

Dang Hwa flared and started forward, but Dang Mu-baek lifted a hand and stopped her. Hyeong Jin said nothing. He only waited for the clothes. When he gave no answer, Cheongu's eyes turned uglier still.

"Looking at you, Hyeong Un can't be much of anything either."

Hyeong Jin lifted his head, slow. A gaze gone cold and still settled on Cheongu.

"......What did you just say?"

Cheongpung stepped in front of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his junior at once.

"Shut your mouth."

He set a light hand on Cheongu's shoulder. Cheongu bit his lip. Cheongpung turned to Hyeong Jin and offered a proper salute.

"My junior brother was rash. Allow me to apologize in his place."

Hyeong Jin accepted it, and still he did not look away from Cheongu for a long moment.

"Looking at you, your senior brother must have a hard time of it."

"What did you just say?"

Cheongu's hand went to his hilt. Steel whispered. The blade had cleared the scabbard by barely an inch when Hyeong Jin swung the sword at his own waist, sheath and all.

Tok.

The tip of the scabbard cracked down on the guard of the sword in Cheongu's grip. The half-drawn blade slammed back into its sheath. Cheongu's eyes flew wide.

"Don't make a scene in another man's house."

Watching the movement, Cheongpung's gaze deepened. Cheongu ground his teeth, but he did not touch the sword again. Dang Mu-baek looked from one of them to the other, as if the whole exchange amused him.

Then the warrior who had run inside returned with a set of clothes. Hyeong Jin took them and put them on. Dang Mu-baek's eyes moved to Dang Hwa.

"Young miss, would you guide our guest?"

"Come with me. I'll show you the way."

Even as he walked beside her, Hyeong Jin felt Cheongu's stare pinned to his back. The hostility was naked, and not worth a thought. Only after that presence had fallen well behind did Dang Hwa press in close at his side.

"So. What did you take?"

He put on an innocent face.

"I didn't take anything. I've been starving since yesterday."

"Oh, please. Your energy's far stronger than it was, and you're going to lie to me?"

Dang Hwa's smile deepened.

"Go on, tell me. What happened on Mount Daliang? Why did your energy jump like that?"

Her eyes curved like a crescent moon.

"All of it. Don't leave out a single thing."