The Mt. Hua Sword Debate (2)
The Mt. Hua Sword Debate opened not with steel, but with a lavish banquet. Martial artists lived by the blade, and blades claimed lives in incidents large and small. That was precisely why the Sword Debate began with a feast — a chance for old acquaintances from every corner of the martial world to reunite after five long years and unburden themselves of all they had carried.
And Go Jinmyung stood outside the pavilion where that banquet was underway.
"So… this is a banquet for martial artists, is that it?"
"That is correct. We understand Young Master Jinmyung's circumstances, but we also…"
"I understand. It can't be helped."
After a brief exchange with the Mt. Hua disciples barring the pavilion entrance, Jinmyung descended into the manor grounds. Ak Jun was already waiting, looking as though he had expected exactly this outcome.
"Didn't I tell you? And there's no real need to attend the banquet, is there?"
"If we've come all this way for the Sword Debate, we ought to at least show our faces at the opening ceremony and the feast. Don't you think?"
"And what if you go sticking your neck out and we never find the book? More importantly — I've arranged a meeting with the First Sword of Mt. Hua at the reception hall around the end of the You hour."
"Hmm. So the First Sword plans to leave the banquet early."
"Yes. Since he holds the authority to control access to Mt. Hua for the duration of the Sword Debate, it seems he can't linger at the feast for long."
"Sounds exhausting, juggling all that."
"Which is why I prepared some Hyeoksalinhyang."
"Sensible. He'll accept a gift of tea leaves, at least."
Ak Jun handed over a small pouch. Jinmyung set off across the manor grounds at an unhurried pace.
"Where are you going?"
"To take a piss. Why? Want to watch?"
"…I'll wait for the First Sword. Be back on time."
Emerging from the privy, Jinmyung wandered the manor. The grounds around the banquet pavilion blazed so brightly that night itself seemed an afterthought. Perhaps it was the long stretch of days spent only in Chang'an's quietest library, but he found himself drifting toward somewhere still. His steps carried him, almost without thought, into a darkened corner of the estate.
"Never once have I drunk alone without company. Didn't expect a guest to find his way even out here."
The sudden voice startled Jinmyung so badly he nearly lost his footing. A soft chuckle slipped out from behind a tree at the sight of him.
Jinmyung stepped around the trunk and found a man in a bamboo hat, seated against the tree, tipping a wine flask to his lips.
"Can't sense presence — so not a martial artist. Well-fed enough that you're no pauper… and that character for 'Dong' embroidered on your silk sleeve… You're the young master of the Donghwa Merchant Group, aren't you?"
"…My name is Go Jinmyung. Forgive my ignorance — which school do you hail from, elder?"
Jinmyung tilted his head as he asked.
"If you don't know, drink a penalty cup."
The man held out the flask. Jinmyung took it and drank. A searing heat rolled down his throat.
"This fire wine isn't sold in Chang'an, for one."
"I wasn't asking you to identify the wine."
"Too few clues. Aside from the fact that you don't seem to belong to the Murim Alliance…"
"Skipping a banquet doesn't automatically mean you're not with the Alliance, does it?"
"…"
Jinmyung considered. He had a fair idea of the man's identity from his appearance alone — but guessing and speaking aloud were two very different things.
The man gave a dry snort of laughter and went on.
"I've put up a qi barrier. Nothing you say will carry beyond this spot."
"Aigoo… Must you hear it to be satisfied?"
"Everyone who could ever change my mind is already gone."
The man took the flask back and tilted it as he answered. The long, greedy swallows slowed as Jinmyung's words continued.
"Shall we start with the hat? Bamboo hats are usually woven from reed or bamboo. In the south, where the reeds grow tough, they use reed. North of the river, bamboo is more common."
The man waited, smiling faintly.
"Most martial artists reinforce bamboo with wire to form a frame — something they can throw in a pinch to force an opening, or so I've heard."
"A trick for amateurs."
"Indeed. And the hat you're wearing is woven from reed, so it would be a southern hat. Anhui Province, I'd wager."
"How did you figure that?"
"Shandong Province, where the Donghwa Merchant Group is based, sits close to Anhui. The weave is distinctive to Anhui hats."
"Then…"
The man smiled and gestured for Jinmyung to continue.
"But Anhui is home to the Namgung Clan. You don't look like one of theirs. I've heard their obsession with the color blue borders on the pathological."
The man threw his head back and laughed. His martial robes were black.
"Hahaha! Fair enough — they do have that about them. What if I'm just a wandering swordsman from Anhui?"
"A wanderer would be at the banquet, making sure people remembered his face. And more than that… those robes aren't southern-made."
"Plain cotton like this is sold everywhere, isn't it?"
"Cotton itself is common enough. But the loom that wove this fabric doesn't follow the methods of the new dynasty."
"Every household sets up a loom differently, don't they?"
"Looms are built of wood, and the grain of the timber dictates how the frame is assembled. That assembly, in turn, leaves subtle differences in the weave of the cloth…"
Jinmyung's throat had gone dry; he asked for the flask. The man passed it over. Jinmyung wet his throat and pressed on.
"Nowhere in the Central Plains weaves cotton this way. Not that I've ever seen. Though lately, browsing books in the library, I did come across a few mentions of the Shaka people of Xinjiang…"
Before Jinmyung could finish, the man snatched the flask back and drained it to the last drop in great, gulping swallows.
"You know more than I expected. So there was a reason the stories of that childhood prodigy reached all the way to Xinjiang."
The man had just confirmed he came from Xinjiang. Both of them were thinking of the great sects driven west into those lands after the founding of the new dynasty.
"They say childhood geniuses grow up to be mediocrities."
Jinmyung cupped his hands in a polite bow as he answered. If this man belonged to the Myeonggyo, acknowledging any connection would only be poison.
"You look barely past twenty to me… so a genius you must be. What do you say? Care to open a deal with me the way you did with the Emperor?"
"I don't know how much you've heard, but our merchant group puts credit first. The character for 'trust' — shin — is built from 'person' and 'speech,' meaning a person's word must have use. From everything so far, I see only risk. No use."
"Didn't your grandfather become the new dynasty's greatest merchant precisely because he took risks?"
"My grandfather became a great merchant because he took risks for the sake of credit. Taking risks for their own sake isn't a transaction — it's a gamble."
"A young fellow who knows too much is going to have a hard life. Honestly."
The man tossed Jinmyung a gold token no larger than a fingernail. All the prying had nettled him, and a thread of internal energy rode the throw.
"It's engraved with the characters for sun and moon."
"Yes… Show that, and at least our people won't raise a hand against you. Is that enough credit to build on?"
The man stumbled slightly over his words. To his eyes, Jinmyung was an ordinary man with no martial training. And yet no ordinary man should have been able to catch a gold token before the energy on it had been withdrawn.
"You're showing me something that would land me in serious trouble under imperial law if I were caught with it…"
"Your grandfather could find a use for anything under heaven — the finest hand in the jianghu at that. What about you?"
Jinmyung did not care for the way this stranger kept invoking his grandfather. But the familiarity in the man's tone suggested the two had never been enemies.
"Very well. What sort of deal did you have in mind?"
"Anyone listening would think I was forcing this on you."
"You raised a qi barrier and handed me a treasure like this. If I refuse a deal in a place this secluded, who knows what becomes of me?"
"Ugh. Then give it back."
"I'll decide whether to return it once I've heard the terms."
The moment the word deal left his mouth, the light in Jinmyung's eyes changed. Only then did the man truly recognize the heir of the Donghwa Merchant Group. Jinmyung's grandfather had worn that same look whenever he brokered trade between two warring camps.
"What I want is the truth. I will ask several questions. Can you answer with nothing but the truth?"
Unlike the man, Jinmyung could not see the eyes hidden beneath the bamboo hat. But he felt a weight in the man's voice that had not been there before.
"That will cost a great deal. Truth, I suspect, can only be paid for with truth."
Jinmyung demanded the same currency in return. The man nodded and continued.
"I heard the Emperor ordered the Donghwa Merchant Group to keep its distance from the martial world… How have you managed to spend ten years in Chang'an?"
"His Majesty never personally ordered us to distance ourselves from the martial world. We simply exercise caution. I remain in Chang'an only because I have a transaction whose price has yet to be paid."
The man knew the Emperor well. The Emperor was a man who would do anything to keep his power. He could not bring himself to believe Jinmyung's words. Even if Jinmyung had saved the imperial house ten years ago, the Emperor could have invented any pretext to crush the merchant group. And yet the group had stood unharmed for a decade, and now Jinmyung had come to the Murim Alliance — the only force in the land with the strength to answer imperial power.
"What is your name, and how is this gold token used?"
Jinmyung's question cut in before the man's thoughts could settle.
"I am Namgung Ho. Better known by the title Left Envoy of Light than by my name — remember me that way. That gold token can be spent in place of gold currency in Xinjiang."
"So it serves as currency in Xinjiang…"
Jinmyung ran through the hierarchy of the Myeonggyo in his mind. The Left Envoy of Light ranked third in the entire cult.
"What were you doing in Chang'an?"
"There was a book I had agreed to find as payment for a deal. In the new dynasty, every member of the Myeonggyo is considered a public enemy of the martial world — and yet you've come to the Mt. Hua Sword Debate?"
"A book…? Hmm. An answer first, then. The Sword Debate is a ceremony to honor my old comrades… and as I said, everyone who could turn me from a decision is already gone."
Namgung Ho pressed on.
"What book? Judging by the risks you're taking to find it, it can't be ordinary."
"Whether it's ordinary or not, I couldn't say. Like my grandfather before me, I'm simply accepting risk for the sake of credit."
Jinmyung continued.
"All I know of the book is its name… Amcheonmyeongjo."
The instant the name left Jinmyung's lips, Namgung Ho surged to his feet. Jinmyung flinched and stumbled back a step.
"That book was in Chang'an? Did you find it?"
It was Jinmyung's turn to ask questions, but the force of the man's presence drove the answer out of him.
"I couldn't find it in Chang'an. Do you know of it? Where is it?"
With Namgung Ho standing, Jinmyung could finally see his face. A great scar ran across it — a long cut that had taken the left eye. The only sign of Namgung Ho's shock was the tremor in his remaining right eye.
But for Jinmyung, this was the first real lead in ten years. He was about to press further when Namgung Ho answered.
"So you came to Mt. Hua hunting that book. But it isn't here."
"You know of it, then."
"That book is a roster. It holds the true identities of Myeonggyo believers who infiltrated various organizations to help found the new dynasty…"
Silence settled between them at Namgung Ho's words. It was Namgung Ho who broke it.
"Amcheonmyeongjo — a bright morning that awakens the old nation, dark as a shadowed sky. It was the doctrine of the Myeonggyo at the time. Of course, most of the believers named in that roster are long dead… or in Xinjiang."
Jinmyung understood at last why the book had never been in the Murim Alliance. The Myeonggyo had once been the Alliance's ally. After the founding of the new dynasty, the cult was branded with treason and driven into Xinjiang, and every organization connected to them was purged. Had that book ever rested within the Alliance, it would have been destroyed long ago.
"Who was the client who asked you to find the book?"
"A merchant does not casually name his counterparties."
"Was it… a woman named Suyeong, by any chance?"
"…"
Jinmyung answered with silence. Namgung Ho understood who the client had been.
"What do you say to a deal with me as well? I have been searching for that book myself… If I find it, I will give it to you."
From everything said so far, Jinmyung could tell the offer was genuine.
"And what would the price be?"
Namgung Ho drew a letter from within his martial robes.
"Deliver this letter to the Namgung Clan. It must reach the Grand Elder himself."
"Understood."
Jinmyung took the letter and tucked it into his sleeve.
"When I find the book, I'll send someone to you."
"Understood."
Jinmyung answered, cupped his hands in a bow, and raised his head. Namgung Ho was already gone.
"If I don't head back soon, it'll be the Hai hour…"
Uncertain whether Namgung Ho had truly left, Jinmyung made a point of announcing his own departure — then hurried toward the pavilion.