The Hainan Sect, Yingtian's Banquet (3)

I was right about what I saw.

Only then did Seong Munjeong understand the hostility she had glimpsed in that young Jeonbu and her former junior brother. It was a grudge. A blood feud, sealed in blood.

How in the world did something like this even happen…

And how such a cursed entanglement could twist and knot itself into a coincidence this grotesque — the sheer absurdity of it left her speechless.

Jeong Go, the third disciple, had been a talent who stood shoulder to shoulder with Seong Munjeong, though she was three years his senior. In a sense they had been rivals, yet Jeong Go had always been a man who lived at a vast remove from ambition or greed. Abandoned by his parents and sold to pirates, he had been rescued and raised by Hainan's hands — and that alone, the simple fact of being a Hainan disciple, had been enough to make him happy. He was a true martial artist, one who devoted himself wholly to the path.

Then one day, Jeong Go had been caught attempting to violate the fourth disciple, Geum Hwayeong. Enraged, the sect had imposed the severe punishment of expulsion, shattered his dantian, and stripped him of his martial arts.

"Mm… no, that can't be. A most unreasonable thing to say. In this vast realm of the Great Ming, who would dare slight a eunuch?"

Nam Yeonghak's voice broke Seong Munjeong from her reverie.

"A disciple of our sect has committed a grave discourtesy toward you, Jeonbu, and toward Eunuch Jeong. What are you standing there for? Offer your apology to the Jeonbu at once!"

Nam Yeonghak had just been asked whether he meant to openly scorn a eunuch as a eunuch — and there was no way he could not be thrown into disarray. Of all times, this had to happen while his superiors were away attending an imperial audience.

The Emperor bestowed honorary ranks equivalent to the fourth grade upon the masters of the great sects and clans that represented each province. It was a calculated measure, taking into account that the highest officials overseeing a province's administration, judiciary, and military held the proper third rank — and a political instrument besides, reminding every martial artist that they, too, were subjects and servants of the realm. By the same logic, head first-generation disciples such as Nam Yeonghak received honorary ranks equivalent to the sixth grade.

And so, for all that Nam Yeonghak was the head disciple of a great sect, he could not cow Jin Myeong with mere prestige. In rank, they were both officers of the sixth grade. Still less when the man across from him was a eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial — an institution whose influence only continued to swell. A eunuch of considerable promise, at that.

"Ngh…! Jeonbu, I lost my temper and committed an offense. Please forgive me."

Nam Geonhu, who had never imagined the situation turning this way, rubbed his still-stinging chest and begged pardon. It was his first time attending the Yingtian Assembly, and he had expected his father to step forward on his behalf — only to watch the man take a low posture instead. From that very attitude, he grasped the scale of his own blunder and bowed his head.

I was reckless. Damn it!

Above all, running into Go Jeong-un like this — a man he had been certain he would never see again — had been so utterly unexpected that, in his confusion and panic, he had lost his composure for a single instant and loosed a blast of fighting qi before he even knew what he was doing.

"It would appear the Jeonbu has already heard some of the circumstances from Eunuch Jeong. In any event, an unfortunate incident did take place."

"Hrm…! I heard, yes. Though whether the facts this office knows and the facts Hainan knows share the same truth is another matter."

There was a barb in Jin Myeong's quiet reply — an implication that, regarding that incident, their two sides held very different views. Nam Yeonghak was not so dull as to miss the meaning. But to pick at that scab here would only make it worse, and there was nothing to be gained. He chose to pretend he had not heard.

"…At any rate. Today we encountered Eunuch Jeong — a party to that very affair — in an unexpected place, in an unexpected guise, and in our surprise we made a mistake. Who would dare, here in Yingtianfu, to oppress a servant of His Majesty the Son of Heaven?"

"Oho…! Is that so?"

"It is only natural — how could it be otherwise? Our second-generation disciples are new to the imperial capital and unaccustomed to the protocols of officialdom. I ask that you forgive them generously, Jeonbu."

Sensing that Jin Myeong seemed to be relenting, Nam Yeonghak clasped his fists in a martial salute at the close, driving the point home.

"Very well. We shall leave it here. You may find this office's methods excessive — but do not forget that this is Yingtianfu. Should your sect's disciples repeat a mistake like the one just now, I imagine Sect Leader Geum and Great Hero Nam would find themselves in a most awkward position. Now then — we shall take our leave."

Jin Myeong, who saw straight through the orthodox sects' fondness for wrapping themselves in justification, cut them off before they could even begin. Then, as if no reply were required, he turned on his heel without the slightest hesitation.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan.

If he truly set his mind to making an issue of it, he could. But it would fall far short of the result he wanted. For now, laying the groundwork was enough.

The Hainan Sect was a great faction that currently assisted the navy in holding command of the seas throughout the South China Sea — which was to say, they protected merchant vessels and coastal folk from both native pirates and the raiders of Wa, in the navy's stead. Had Nam Geonhu and Geum Hwayeong been ordinary disciples, it might have been a different matter. But one was the son of the head disciple, the other the sect leader's granddaughter. To destroy those two over an affair of this scale would be tantamount to declaring open enmity with the entire Hainan Sect.

Of course, if the state truly set its mind to crushing Hainan, it could do so readily enough — but the backlash from the remaining orthodox sects would be considerable. For the court, the losses would outweigh the gains. And with the Yongle Emperor already planning another northern campaign, even if Jin Myeong pressed the matter, the overwhelming likelihood was that he would be forced to withdraw empty-handed.

Decisively, Nam Geonhu was still young — and looking at the surface of the story that bound them, Nam Geonhu and Geum Hwayeong were the undisputed victims. The affair would almost certainly be treated with leniency, written off as something that could have happened to anyone.

Nam Geonhu. Geum Hwayeong. By all means, work those heads of yours. You've had a taste of bitterness — so go on, put your heads together and cause an incident. Just as you did a year ago, when you sank Jeong Go.

To catch Nam Geonhu and Geum Hwayeong, he needed a more certain trap. And that trap was already in place.

Well. If they keep their mouths shut and sit still, that works too. I'll just make sure they cause an incident anyway.

A deep smile hung on Jin Myeong's face as he turned away — the smile of a boy who had just found a fascinating new toy.

You little bastards' lives? This Gonggong here intends to make them very entertaining.

A short while later.

Some twenty li northwest of the imperial palace, a vast military district stretched ten li in every direction. On one side of the barracks of the Imperial Guard of Direct Command, a martial tournament ground had been raised. The Jinyiwei used it as well; it had served as the arena since the very first Yingtian Assembly, and every gathering since.

A high dais had been built to look down upon the central platform, reserved for the Yongle Emperor and the imperial clan, as well as the Three Dukes, the Grand Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial, and the Commander-in-Chief of the Jinyiwei. Today, however, the contest was among the second-generation disciples of the various sects and clans and the rising talents of equivalent standing — and so the Crown Prince, Zhu Gaochi, presided.

Having lost his martial arts to qi deviation, and having so recently survived an assassination attempt, he was ringed by eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial and guards of the Jinyiwei.

A low murmur rolled through the grounds. The tournament field seethed with some three thousand martial artists who had poured in from every corner of the realm — the Nine Factions and One Sect, the Five Great Clans, and the warriors of the great orthodox sects and houses besides. And yet the atmosphere remained relatively subdued. Some twenty thousand Jinyiwei guards across seventeen posts, a hundred thousand troops of the emperor's own seventeen units of the Imperial Guard of Direct Command, and, further out still, some two hundred thousand of the thirty-two Directly Attached Guards — all of them watching with eyes wide open. One wrong impression, and there was no telling what thunderbolt might fall.

BOOM! Ba-BOOM! BOOM!

Drumbeats rolled out from one side of the dais where Zhu Gaochi sat. The man holding the drumsticks was a Jinyiwei guardsman.

Then a figure who had been standing at Zhu Gaochi's side rose from the dais. A middle-aged military officer in the Flying Fish Robe, the court dress that marked a second-rank official. He swept his gaze across the martial artists of the jianghu from the left of the platform to the right, looking down upon them as if from a great height — and descended, slowly, without so much as unfolding his lightness skill.

What use was all that flash — walking on empty air, flipping through the sky? His bearing seemed to ask what the point of such pointless displays even was. And that, if anything, only made his presence more overwhelming. Sensing that oppressive aura, the murmur of the martial artists died away.

At last, the middle-aged officer with the bristling, caterpillar-thick brows took the center of the platform, and his mouth opened.

His rank was Commander-in-Chief, proper second grade. He was the supreme head of the Great Ming's Imperial Jinyiwei Command. The Yongle Emperor's own blade. A martial master of the Peak Realm, Late Stage, who had fully mastered the Nine Dragons Grand Luo Sword Art — and, together with Zheng He, Grand Director of the Directorate of Ceremonial, one of the foremost experts representing the imperial palace itself.

"From this moment, we shall open the martial tournament in the presence of His Highness the Crown Prince. His Highness the Crown Prince — a thousand years!"

Sa Hapji led the mountain-shaking cheer, and every soul in the grounds roared it back. The very earth of Yingtianfu seemed to tremble, as if an earthquake had struck. This was the spectacle one could witness only at the Yingtian Assembly — a sight to stir the blood. Commoners and young martial artists alike felt their pulses hammer and a thrill run through them.

"The conduct of the tournament shall be overseen by the Zhuge Clan's…"

Following the opening declaration, Sa Hapji called forth the martial artist of the Zhuge Clan who would preside over the proceedings, and the tournament moved smoothly underway. The thrill of a moment before had not yet cooled, and as the matches drew near, heat rose among the young rising talents. Disciples of every sect and clan reviewed their forms and steeled their fighting spirit before the contest began.

The Hainan Sect was no different. Nam Yeonghak, Seong Munjeong, and the other disciples sat with their eyes closed, reciting the martial principles of the Twenty-Four Wave Swords.

All except one.

What's that bastard doing now?

Nam Geonhu was different. His brow twitched at the sight of someone, and he immediately turned to Geum Hwayeong.

"Junior Sister. Look over there."

"Where?"

"There, I said. Go Jeong-un!"

"Go Jeong-un? Has he lost his mind?! Senior Brother, go after him right now. Hurry!"

Go Jeong-un — that is, Jeong Go — was standing below the platform, glaring at the two of them. Glaring as if he would chew them up and still not be satisfied. Nam Geonhu and Geum Hwayeong could not tolerate that gaze, steeped in killing intent and hatred. Geum Hwayeong especially — a girl who had lived her entire life held aloft in everyone's palms.

"Go after him and do what? The tournament's about to start."

"Our turn is ages away anyway!"

"Did you forget what happened this morning? However much I want to kill that Go Jeong-un, he's a court official."

"So we're just supposed to sit here and watch him act like that? Senior Brother — don't tell me this is because of that eunuch from earlier. That castrated Jeonbu?"

"What? What do you take me for? If it weren't for rank, I'd have broken a bastard like that in half already."

Nam Geonhu was, relatively speaking, the one with a scrap of sense — and Geum Hwayeong's suggestion that he had been cowed by Jin Myeong made him bristle. People called it a man's pride, did they not? Her words had struck his squarely.

"That's exactly my point. Look at what he's waving. Don't you see that porcelain vial? He's showing it to us!"

And that was the decisive blow: the small porcelain vial Jeong Go gripped and shook in his hand. What that vial implied was one of the truths of the incident a year ago — the truth Jeong Go had been unable to speak at the time. The fact that Nam Geonhu and Geum Hwayeong had intended to use a knockout drug to bring Seong Munjeong down. When Jeong Go had discovered them, the two had staged the scene, pinned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the crime on him before he could report it to the sect's elders, and had him expelled.

"That insane bastard!"

The humiliation of the morning, piled atop Jeong Go's hostile stare and that porcelain vial, shattered what composure the two of them had left.

"And that eunuch isn't even here. Go after him, quickly! Before that bastard spills everything to Senior Sister!"

What's more — wherever he had gone — the eunuch they had seen that morning was nowhere in sight. That young eunuch who had claimed to be Go Jeong-un's sworn brother. The one who had heaped disgrace and humiliation upon them. Geum Hwayeong, who had not taken Jin Myeong's fighting qi herself, naturally dismissed him — how strong could a peer's martial arts possibly be? Nam Geonhu had been somewhat startled at the time, but figured that together with Geum Hwayeong, they could handle him well enough.

"Fine. I'll go first. Follow quietly."

In the end, the two fools buried themselves in a single thought: that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Jeong Go had to be punished, and that as long as they were not caught, it would be fine. They had utterly forgotten that if things went wrong, they would become criminals who had twice attempted to harm a court official — and that the consequences of that could not be waved away with a simple apology.

"That's the right idea. You saw on the way in — the barracks stretch more than ten li on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every side. There's bound to be a quiet spot somewhere. If it looks bad, we just turn around. We've got nothing to lose."

Nam Geonhu and Geum Hwayeong quietly took stock of the eyes around them and slipped from their seats. Apart from the tournament ground raised in one corner of the vast barracks, the rest of the camp was deserted. The crowds were all absorbed in the platform, and the first-generation disciples and martial siblings, immersed in their own preparations, had no attention to spare for the two of them.

Having slipped away from the arena unseen, they quietly tailed Jeong Go. He seemed to have received some manner of instruction from a superior who had sought him out a moment before, and was now running off somewhere alone.

A short while later.

The situation was unfolding exactly as Nam Geonhu and Geum Hwayeong had imagined. Jeong Go went into some warehouse and began rummaging around inside, as if searching for something. It was on the outskirts of the barracks, and they had watched for a good while without a single soul coming or going.

If they finished it quickly and left, Jeong Go's death would remain an unsolved mystery. Yingtianfu was a place where corpses turned up overnight without distinction — imperial palace, barracks, commoners' houses, the lower reaches of the Yangtze. Thousands of martial artists had crowded into the city; who would ever know who had done the killing?

Even if that Jeonbu bastard who knew the history between them stepped forward, it was ultimately an internal sect matter from the past — and they were the undisputed victims. What's more, there would be no evidence that they had done the killing, so he would not be able to openly point the finger at Hainan. Do that, and he would be the one accused of slander.

This was the perfect chance to eliminate the blight that was Go Jeong-un.

"I should have listened to you sooner, Junior Sister. Heaven itself is on our side."

"See? What did I tell you. Hurry up, finish it, and let's go back."

"Right. Let's go."

After one last scan of their surroundings, Nam Geonhu and Geum Hwayeong strode straight into the warehouse.

And then—

"Junior Brother Go."

"Senior Brother Go."

"Hhk!"

Jeong Go started violently at the voices that had suddenly spoken behind him. His face was the face of a man who had never seen it coming — who had been frightened out of his wits.

"Senior Brother! Junior Sister…"

"Those words — Senior Brother, Junior Sister — you dare let them out of your mouth? After pulling that stunt below the platform?"

Shhhhing!

A longsword slid from Nam Geonhu's scabbard with a clear, ringing note — the characteristically narrow longsword of the Hainan Sect, a school that specialized in the swift sword.

"Didn't think it would come to this, did you? This wretched feud of ours ends here—!"

"S-spare me, Senior Brother! This junior was in the wrong!"

Nam Geonhu, who had meant to finish it quickly and be gone, had no choice but to halt the sword he had drawn. Jeong Go had dropped flat on his face in an instant, pressing his nose to the floor. The two of them had not expected this. They had not thought Jeong Go would come out like this.

"Please, spare my life! I was out of my mind for a moment! Please…!"

Prostrate, Jeong Go begged and begged until his hands might as well have been his feet. Spare only his life, he pleaded — and in another moment he looked ready to weep mucus and tears.

"See? Senior Brother and I didn't want it to go this far. So why did you have to do that earlier? Go Jeong-un, this is on you."

"You heard Junior Sister. What with this morning as well, we didn't particularly want to take it this far either — but you dug your own grave. You should never have brought up the matter of us trying to drug Senior Sister."

As if they would spare him just because he begged. They had come this far. They had seized the perfect chance to put a final end to this rankling feud. Nam Geonhu tightened his grip on the sword hilt.

And then—

"If the chiliarch had not taken charge of the escort, an accident too terrible to even speak of would surely have occurred."

"Jeonbu Jang, the entire Great Ming knows what you did, so what's with all that. Enough with the modesty… hm? Did you hear that too, Jeonbu Jang?"

Two voices, sudden, from outside the warehouse. Both were voices they had heard before — voices they could not have forgotten if they tried. The first they had heard this very morning. The second, yesterday, at Jubao Gate.

Hhk!

Senior Brother!

Nam Geonhu and Geum Hwayeong's minds plunged into a cauldron of panic, and in the very instant their eyes met—

"Senior Brother, put the sword away, quickly—!"

"I know—!"

Thuk—!

The sound of Nam Geonhu's longsword piercing something rang through the warehouse. The accident happened in a flash, before Nam Geonhu could even register it.

What Nam Geonhu's longsword had pierced was none other than Jeong Go's belly — Jeong Go, who remained on his knees, pulling the blade into himself.

Everything had gone according to plan.