Mt. Hua Sword Debate (1)
Liaoning Province lay along the northern frontier of the new empire. The Mongols, once the ruling class of the old nation, had lost their country and been driven north into the Mongol lands.
They longed to return home and reclaim what was theirs — but in Liaoning, the Moyong Clan stood waiting.
A branch of the northern Xianbei people, the Moyong Clan had for generations served as the de facto rulers of the province. Yet by that same geography, they had also been the first to suffer invasion under the old empire.
In those days the Moyong had fallen so far that they were remembered only as one more ancient, faded house. Then, during the founding wars of the new empire, the Bukdu Kwonhwang — the Northern Dipper Fist Emperor, Moyong Seong — appeared as if from nowhere, and restored them once more as masters of Liaoning.
Even after the Murim Alliance withdrew from the front lines, Moyong Seong pressed the northern advance alongside the Northern Army. Only when he reached his homeland of Liaoning did his march finally halt.
Thereafter he devoted himself to rebuilding the clan. In the course of that reconstruction he laid down a single precept for every member of his bloodline:
Eunwon-bulmang — Never forget grace or grudge.
In accordance with that precept, the Moyong Clan sealed a prenatal betrothal with the Donghwa Merchant Group, which had aided their restoration. Separately from the Northern Army, they also dispatched the clan's own martial forces throughout Liaoning to hunt down the remnants of the old empire.
Perhaps as a cost of that vengeance, Moyong Man — Moyong Seong's son and the then family head — fell to an ambush by those same remnants, dying young and leaving behind a small daughter. Moyong Seong was forced to lead the clan once more as its Grand Elder.
Ten years after Moyong Man's death, a cavalry unit flying the banner of the Moyong Clan reached the Liaodong Plain. Hundreds of armored soldiers sat astride their horses, gazing across the Liao River.
At the head of the column, a young commander on a pure white steed gripped a halberd.
"It's already the hour of the sheep. Might they not have already moved west into Liaoxi, Young Family Head?"
"They wouldn't dare sully the name of the Four Steeds."
They were waiting for the Atlat Clan — renowned among the remnants of the old empire for their horsemanship. Once nobles of the old nation, the Atlat had been forced to pass through Liaoning on their northward retreat toward Mongolia.
The Young Family Head of the Moyong Clan had tracked down and captured the Atlat chieftain in order to annihilate them in a single stroke — then, holding his life as collateral, had demanded a pitched battle on the open plain.
The Atlat Clan had once been led by Bo'orchu, foremost among Genghis Khan's Four Steeds and Four Dogs, and had commanded the cavalry ever since the founding of the old empire. To such a people, a cavalry-versus-cavalry engagement had been proposed with their chieftain's life on the line. The Atlat accepted, and the Young Family Head released their leader.
They had agreed to fight at the hour of the horse, when the sun stood at its zenith, on the Liaodong Plain. Yet as the hour of the sheep approached, not a single horseman had appeared on the field.
"…There."
The young commander looked east. Dust rose in the distance.
"Young Family Head — dust is rising to the north as well."
"To the south too! Looks like a hundred at least!"
"A pincer attack. So that's why they were late. If memory serves, five hundred of the Atlat came up into Liaoning?"
"Yes. Two hundred of them noncombatants."
"We're only a hundred, and three times that number are splitting into three directions to surround us."
"Yes — seems they mean to drive us into the Liao River. Ignorant fools who don't even know what a back-to-the-river formation is."
"No, Chief Steward. They're hoping we'll claim a last stand and head for the river. A back-to-the-river formation is a battle array that steals resolve by putting men in a death trap."
The young commander seemed to be organizing thoughts while speaking. The voice that followed had grown somehow softer than before.
"But they, too, will face us with the will to cross the Liao and reach Mongolia. A back-to-the-river formation is not advantageous against such an enemy."
"Then what will you do, Young Family Head?"
The Chief Steward answered in a slightly raised voice, as if prompting something. The young commander replied in the same firm tone as at the start.
"Their mistake was thinking their hundred equals our hundred. We'll defeat them in detail."
Soothing the restless white steed, the young commander looked back.
"Yes. I need these lot finished off today if I'm to prepare for the Sword Debate."
"First, focus on the battle before us. Follow me!"
A kick to the white horse's flanks, and the steed surged forward. A hundred Moyong cavalry charged after their commander.
"And so… the Moyong Clan's cavalry went thundering off — thud-thud-thud-thud! — and the mere sound of it made the Mongol horses tremble with fear!"
On the raised platform at the center of the inn, a storyteller gestured and stamped to convey the cavalry charge.
Ak Jun climbed the inn stairs, watching the man. From the storyteller's expression, he guessed the tale was nearly done. He turned his head, searching for Jinmyung. A waiter approached and guided him to the second floor, where Jinmyung was looking down at the storyteller from a window seat.
"The Mt. Hua Sword Debate hasn't even started, and the storytellers are already quick off the mark."
Five years earlier, during the previous Mt. Hua Sword Debate, Jinmyung and Ak Jun had listened to tales of it in this very inn. Storytellers who spun colorful accounts of the sparring matches between rising talents were always welcome in the inns.
"It's the second Mt. Hua Sword Debate since the war."
"What… do you mean by that?"
"What did we do at the last Sword Debate?"
Ak Jun cast his mind back carefully. Jinmyung had said he couldn't stand being cooped up in the library and insisted they go to an inn. Along the way, many people had lamented missing the Sword Debate itself.
"We slipped a few storytellers into the Mt. Hua Sword Debate. Then had them recount the matches in the inns…"
"And collected a thirty-percent cut of their earnings as our investment return."
"Yes. I was preparing the same thing this time, but…"
"Have you met the storytellers from five years ago?"
"No — they don't seem to have arrived yet."
Even as he answered, Ak Jun felt uneasy. The storytellers from five years ago had made a considerable sum through their deal with Jinmyung. Yet with only a fortnight left until the Sword Debate, they still hadn't reached Chang'an?
"I let something slip five years ago."
"Pardon?"
"The sparring stories are entertaining enough… but wouldn't they be even more fun if people knew in advance who was fighting whom?"
"Then those stories…"
"The Mt. Hua Sword Debate is where rising talents make their names. But if no one has heard of them at all, the public can't get excited about who they are or what signature techniques they use."
"You sent the previous storytellers to the various sects? And the sects are sending storytellers like that one to promote their rising talents?"
"Seems so."
"How much did you take from the storytellers?"
"Not much. About fifty percent?"
"So they only kept twenty percent?"
"Still far more than they usually earn. I merely pointed out that if the Green Forest bandits learned they'd made so much money, it could be dangerous."
"And told them to invest in the future, I suppose. You used to say that all the time five years ago."
"That's right. It was a consulting pitch I came up with back then. Sounds plausible, doesn't it?"
"So what happened to all that money?"
Their living expenses were all being sent by the merchant group. Ak Jun remembered recording that earlier income in the ledgers himself.
"Come on — as if emergency funds from five years ago would still be sitting around. What I spent it on… I don't remember trivial things like that."
Ak Jun sipped the tea the waiter had brought and grumbled inwardly.
"Hey, a merchant's life is in his smile, you know?"
"More importantly — has the purpose of your visit been resolved?"
"Mm. That story was my purpose."
Jinmyung looked down at the storyteller.
"The young commander gazed out over the battlefield and removed the helmet. Those brows were as beautiful as a crescent moon…"
The storyteller wet his throat, then continued.
"She is none other than the Bukdu Kwonbong — the Northern Dipper Fist Phoenix! Moyong Ran! The pride of the Moyong Clan!"
The storyteller's tale came to a close. He recited a poem while collecting the copper coins people tossed.
Jinmyung regarded Ak Jun steadily. Ak Jun drew a pouch from inside his sleeve. His fingers moved toward a copper coin — but in the next instant he had no choice but to look at Jinmyung, for Jinmyung had already thrown a silver piece to the storyteller, faster than him.
"Not even copper — silver?!"
Jinmyung watched the storyteller bow repeatedly below.
"That's a fair price for the information."
"Information that Moyong Ran of the Moyong Clan is coming to the Mt. Hua Sword Debate… Ah!"
Moyong Ran was the fiancée of Go Jinmyung, young master of the Donghwa Merchant Group.
Only then did Ak Jun grasp Jinmyung's true intent. Marriage was a matter of the greatest human importance. Jinmyung meant to use meeting his fiancée as a pretext to enter the Mt. Hua Sect during the Sword Debate.
"I'll make the preparations."
"Mm. I'll leave it to you."
"Ah — and dinner will be vegetables only."
Only then did Jinmyung turn to look at Ak Jun.
"Unexpected expenses, you see."
Ak Jun rose with the expression of a man who had landed a solid hit, and Jinmyung saw him off with a sheepish look.