Homecoming (2)
The Imperial Palace housed countless guards. These were martial artists who protected the palace so that its master, the Emperor, and the civil and military officials could attend to affairs of state.
Ordinary guards wore armor befitting the Imperial Palace as they patrolled its grounds. Only robust warriors capable of bearing the weight of such armor could become palace guards.
But the deeper one ventured into the palace, the simpler the guards' attire became. The female guards who protected the Empress and the imperial consorts looked, at a glance, no different from ordinary maids.
And though they remained unseen in the Emperor's audience hall, countless martial artists in plain clothes stood guard over him. Bound by boundless loyalty, they obeyed only the Emperor's commands.
They wore plain clothes partly because the freedom of movement surpassed that of armor—but more than anything, because they possessed the skill never to be struck by an enemy's attack. The Emperor had bestowed silk robes upon them, and people called them the guards who wore embroidered silk—the Jinyiwei, the Embroidered Uniform Guard.
The Jinyiwei were known to protect the Emperor's immediate surroundings, deep within the palace. But people also knew they served as the Emperor's hands and feet—indeed, as eyes watching over the entire Central Plains.
And those eyes of the Emperor turned toward the Mt. Hua Sect whenever the Mt. Hua Sword Discourse was held. Even now, four people in silk robes had gathered in one of the Mt. Hua Sect's lodgings.
Officially, the room was empty. But in the darkness, four pairs of eyes exchanged glances.
"I know we work in the shadows and aspire to the light, but can't we stop meeting without even lighting a lamp every single time?"
The man in red spoke, trying to break the heavy atmosphere. The others answered with silence.
The man in red shrugged, looking embarrassed.
"Has the report been sent?"
"Not yet. We're on standby."
"None of you expected Mumu Baekmyeon's true identity to be Go Jinmyung, right? I'm not the only one who didn't know?"
The man in red asked again. The men in blue and black looked at him for cutting in.
"Shandong is your jurisdiction. Aren't you being a bit too relaxed about this?"
The woman in green silk asked. The man in red silk turned to her with a smile.
"Relaxed? How could I be? This is wonderful news… A large-scale operation is about to unfold, isn't it? Finally, some real work to do."
Tak.
The man in black silk rapped the table.
"Our mission is to find the book. We report only on matters related to that mission and relevant intelligence. As I always say—do not make hasty judgments. Especially regarding His will. That is not something the likes of you can presume to understand."
The sound of the man in red silk swallowing was audible in the silence. The man in black silk did not care for warnings lightly given.
"I'll be careful."
"You would do well to. You'll need to return to Shandong first."
"What?"
"Go Jinmyung has been preparing to leave. It seems he's returning to his hometown, so go back with him. Don't forget to report periodically."
"Understood."
The man in red silk vanished from the room.
"A homecoming after ten years… How long will it take?"
"We expect him to return by changing horses through the escort agencies… Still, it should take anywhere from half a month to a full month."
"He's not using lightness skill?"
"We've received reports that horses are being prepared. If he does use lightness skill, Red, who is following him, will report it."
"Understood. Any additional information on the book?"
"The Left Envoy of Light has been moving around more than last time… which has severely constrained our movements."
"Ordinary stealth techniques can't evade the Left Envoy of Light, after all."
The man in black considered for a moment, then spoke.
"Change the operational guidelines so that our permanently embedded agents can move more freely in the future."
"Understood."
The man in blue answered, and the man in black nodded. After that, the room was empty once more.
One week later, the final match that would close the curtain on the Mt. Hua Sword Discourse was being prepared. Namgung Ho hid among the crowds of the finals, his identity concealed by a human-skin mask and the Bone-Shrinking Art.
People in the spectator stands were talking about the rumors—namely, that Go Jinmyung, a finalist, had descended from Mt. Hua.
Some said he had gone to Chang'an to fetch a custom weapon. Others claimed he had declared his withdrawal from the finals rather than fight his fiancée. Among the various rumors, the one that had drawn Namgung Ho to the stands was the story that Jinmyung had returned his participation token to Namgung Hyeon.
A waiter carrying a load on his back passed by on the stairs beside Namgung Ho. Namgung Ho called the waiter over and ordered some sweets and tea.
The waiter took tea and sweets from his load and handed them to Namgung Ho.
"Since you're my first customer, I've given you one extra, specially."
The sweets the waiter handed over were skewered for easy eating. All were red raspberries, save for one at the tip of the skewer that was slightly darker.
"You know how to do business. I'll enjoy these."
Namgung Ho offered his thanks in a manner matching the rough appearance of his human-skin mask. Then he promptly chewed the dark berry. A moment later, as if there had been a seed, he spat something into his other hand.
In Namgung Ho's palm lay a scrap of paper as small as a berry seed. Written on it in truly tiny characters was a single phrase:
Red Withdraws
Namgung Ho discarded the scrap into his tea and drank it in one gulp. The paper vanished.
"Is this seat free?"
A woman came up beside Namgung Ho and asked.
"There was someone here until just now, but seeing as there's no baggage, it seems free."
"Then I'll sit for a bit."
The woman wore worn martial robes. She looked like a member of a fallen sect. She called a waiter and ordered tea and sweets.
The woman began chewing her sweets with small, working motions of her mouth.
"As reported, Red has descended from Mt. Hua. Agents from Chang'an are tracking him."
"He didn't follow Young Master Go?"
The woman seemed to chew her sweets a little longer, her lips moving slightly. To anyone watching from the surroundings, she would look for all the world like someone simply eating sweets.
But someone sitting right beside her, like Namgung Ho, would recognize it as Voice Transmission into Silence. By contrast, Namgung Ho showed no movement whatsoever.
"No report has come yet. But he appears to have moved in the direction of Shandong."
"And the others?"
"My apologies. We lost track of them."
Namgung Ho scratched his chin, thinking. The rough beard of his human-skin mask tickled his fingers.
"A jangsaeng, is it… Interesting."
"Pardon?"
"A stalemate. We're suspending operations as well. Prepare so we can leave immediately once the finals are over."
"Yes."
Jangsaeng referred to a shape in the game of Go where the same moves repeated endlessly. Masters of Go would sometimes play moves to induce this when neither side could easily break the other's formation, aiming for a draw.
Namgung Ho wondered if young people these days even played Go anymore. Then he reminded himself that he was still young and gave a deliberate cough.
"By the way, practice your voice transmission. Your lips are still moving."
"I—I'm sorry."
"We ought to create something like the Shaolin silent meditation practice."
It was well known that Shaolin monks practiced silent meditation, refraining from speech to attain enlightenment. But the Myeonggyo of Xinjiang had no such practice.
The Myeonggyo was a religion born amid war, and even ordinary believers could use basic voice transmission techniques. They had served extensively as spies in the last war—because voice transmission itself could be used even by those who were not martial masters.
Namgung Ho, who had performed countless roles during the war, always emphasized the importance of voice transmission. But for undercover agents of the post-war era like this woman, stealth techniques and martial arts themselves mattered more than voice transmission.
Namgung Ho knew she would let his words go in one ear and out the other this time as well. Even so, he said them.
He realized that he himself had brushed off such lectures in his youth, and once again blamed the passage of time. Meanwhile, Moyong Ran entered the arena.
The crowd cheered for the start of the finals. Amid that cheering, the woman quietly left the spectator stands.
Moyong Ran entered and looked toward the opposite side of the arena. The crowd's attention followed her gaze.
And at the end of that gaze, a young man in blue martial robes could be seen walking toward the arena.
"Changcheon Geomryong! Changcheon Geomryong Namgung Hyeon is entering the finals!"
Someone in the stands shouted. Cheers erupted one after another. Namgung Ho looked down at the arena with a sheepish expression.
Like the woman, Namgung Ho had planned to leave Mt. Hua when the finals began. But when his nephew from home once again stepped onto the arena, he could not leave the stands.
He was remembering the finals of the last Mt. Hua Sword Discourse—the sight of the Emperor's Sword Form of the Changgung Muaegeom, something he had thought he would never see again, claiming ultimate victory.