The Prince, and the Imoogi Who Covet Ascension (1)

And so it was done.

Because of two second-generation disciples. Because of the blunder, a year past, of failing to investigate an incident with any real care. Because they had never corrected the twisted natures and accumulated wrongs of their own bloodline. The Hainan Sect found itself imprisoned on the island where its gates had always stood.

Meanwhile, Jin Myeong was speaking with Seong Munjeong, who knelt in the front rank of the second generation. Jeong Go could not yet use telepathy, so the inconvenience of doing it this way could not be helped.

"Young lady, think this through carefully. Nam Geonhu and Geum Hwayeong are gone, so you've avoided the worst of it — but the pressure from the first generation and those above them is only going to get heavier."

He was almost certainly right.

They would call her the girl who had eaten her own sect leader, the sect leader's personal disciple, and the martial brothers and sisters of their blood. They would say they had saved a girl fit only to be sold as a slave or a whore, and she had repaid them by bringing ruin down on the sect. Those words would make the rounds; there was no question of it.

The ones who had actually committed the crimes had either taken the road to the Yellow Springs or been reduced to slavery, which left no convenient scapegoat to hang a pretext on. They needed someone to take the venting and the score-settling. And blaming the dead would only amount to admitting that the sect's own elders had been at fault — spitting in their own faces.

Which meant there was exactly one person who fit every condition Hainan needed in a target for its resentment.

Seong Munjeong, and no one else.

"I'm grateful for your concern. Even so, the sect has been driven into this desperate state. I am the senior disciple. I cannot simply abandon—"

"How thick can you be? Did Hainan raise you for your own sake? Let's be blunt. They were in the middle of squeezing some silver out of a pirate-crushing job when they happened to rescue you from captivity. After they pulled you out, they noticed you had talent. They'd hit the jackpot, so they took you as a disciple."

Hit the jackpot…

It wasn't that kind of jackpot, of course. But the similar ring of the words was a phrase he never would have used before his regression — not even with a blade pressed to his throat. The awareness of being a man in full possession of himself, settling deeper into the roots of his unconscious, had begun to grant his speech a certain freedom.

"They raised you well so they could put you to work for the sect. You think they did it as a favor to you? They're going to chew you up one side and down the other — and you'll be lucky if chewing is all they do. And you still want to devote yourself to them?"

Once the dam broke, Jin Myeong's mouth did not slow down.

"That kind of case is, how should I put it, like one of us eunuchs just sitting there and taking it when someone calls us a eunuch to our faces. Which is a situation that doesn't make any damn sense to begin with."

"Eup—! Attendant, you really—! All right. I'll think about it."

Seong Munjeong swallowed a cough at the comparison — crude, and for that very reason, devastatingly clear. She ducked her head in a hurry, lest anyone see, and the embarrassment on her face was unmistakable.

Jin Myeong's voice, by contrast, remained perfectly calm.

"I'm saying this because you're like a sister to me, so don't take it lightly. If you make up your mind, send word to Yuwol Pavilion. And Jeong Go's dantian — I mean to have it repaired within a matter of days, so factor that in as well. Picture it: Jeong Go and you, tearing across the jianghu hunting down bands of traitors. Man, I can already see it. Doesn't that sound good?"

"Already? Is that really true?"

At the news that preparations to reconstruct Jeong Go's dantian were complete, Seong Munjeong's eyes flew wide. Her dark brows, copper-toned skin, and the pure white of her sclera stood in vivid contrast, lending her a healthy, striking beauty.

"How, you ask? This official already told you. I said I would fix it. What can I say? There are no idle words in the palace."

"If that's true, then that's wonderful — truly wonderful. That my junior brother will be able to use martial arts again… how happy he'll be… Thank you, Attendant."

"This much is nothing. Ah — and this is important. If anyone suspicious comes calling on Hainan the way they did yesterday, send word to Yuwol Pavilion at once."

Seong Munjeong had, in fact, witnessed Yi Yugyeong and Nam Woo-jeong with her own eyes, but the odds of those two visiting Hainan in person were slim. Only last night, Daoist Hyundo's Ten-Step Brocade had taken an arm from each of them and left them with internal injuries; they would need time to recuperate. If Suchengye was determined to pull Hainan firmly into its orbit, they would certainly send someone else.

The sect leader, two elders, and the sect leader's personal disciple — all of whom had exchanged intentions with the conspirators — had departed on a distant road. To draw Hainan back in, they would have to make contact with a newly formed leadership.

Suchengye. Those who had gathered beneath the banner of following the true Heaven were, after this affair, all the more likely to try to recruit a Hainan that had now made an enemy of the imperial house.

Two months later.

It was the day the novice eunuchs who had entered the palace three months prior completed their basic training and were formally assigned to their respective offices. Every eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial — save those currently attending the imperial family — had assembled, along with the entire cohort of novices.

Now, as the final order of business, it was time to announce the individual assignments of the Directorate's novice eunuchs. As always, the announcements fell to Junior Director Yun Bong.

"Directorate of Ceremonial Clerk Jeong Go."

"Here!"

Jeong Go, too, had been recommended to the post of ninth-rank Clerk upon completing his basic training. Even he, whose face was ordinarily a blank, looked a little moved when his name was called.

"Yeongan Palace."

"Here!"

"Directorate of Ceremonial Attendant Jang Jinmyeong!"

"Here!"

"Yeongan Palace."

Jin Myeong and Jeong Go had both been assigned to Yeongan Palace — the residence of Crown Princess Zhang. Zhu Jingyuan was there.

Two months earlier, immediately after the banquet at Yingtian, Jin Myeong's popularity had surged so sharply that even the consorts had come to know of him. Zhu Gaochi had made a decision. If he simply stood by and watched, he feared the consorts might snatch Jin Myeong away.

"Grand Director — will you hear a request of Ours?"

In Zhu Gaochi's eyes, Jin Myeong was a eunuch of genuine promise. A talent with the youngest Grand Directorship all but reserved in his name, so to speak. Unlike his father, he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was not keen on eunuchs taking part in the governance of internal affairs — but that did not mean he could afford to ignore their influence. So long as Zheng He and the Grand Directors remained in power, he needed to hold eunuch authority in his own hands.

When his father had seized the palace seventeen years ago, who had been the ones to bring word of the Jianwen Emperor's military strength and the state of the court?

The eunuchs, had they not?

Distance yourself from eunuch power, and sooner or later you caught that kind of reverse wind. All the more so now, when the eunuchs' authority had more than doubled since those days.

On top of that, Zhu Jingyuan had taken to singing Jin Myeong's praises every single day, which rather hastened the decision. And so, after half-pleading with Zheng He, Zhu Gaochi had succeeded in having Jin Myeong placed in Yeongan Palace.

"Thank you, hyungnim."

"What did this elder brother even do?"

Jeong Go sent the words by telepathy to Jin Myeong, who was standing among the Grand Directors rather than with the novice eunuchs. That they could exchange telepathy at all was proof enough: Jeong Go's dantian had been restored.

Two months ago.

"Zhenren, as promised — please repair this one's dantian. I have even brought an imperial physician."

"Out of the question. You think an imperial physician alone will suffice? I don't know how you managed to talk round a court doctor who won't even lay a hand on martial artists, but this poor Daoist told you, did I not? You would need a spiritual medicine — a Grand Return Pill, or a Taecheong Divine Pill."

"Yes, exactly. I brought one. That's why I'm asking you to fix it."

"What? You brought one?"

"Yes. A Taecheong Divine Pill."

"Wh— what? A Taecheong Divine Pill? How does a brat like you come to possess the sacred elixir of this poor Daoist's own sect?"

"Daoist Janggyo gave it to me. Said he was grateful I'd saved Daoist Cheongjin. Called me a hundred-year benefactor of Wudang, actually."

"Martial nephew Janggyo? Heh heh… This old martial uncle begged for just one to keep for emergencies and was refused. What great deed did a young pup like you accomplish? He gave it to you when you didn't even ask?"

"Yes, he just gave it to me. See — instead of just pecking at this humble servant back then, perhaps you should have stepped forward for Daoist Cheongjin yourself."

A promise was a promise. In the end, Hyundo expended twenty years of inner power to restore Jeong Go's dantian. Even for one who had achieved the Transcendent Realm, recovering twenty years of cultivation would take several years; it was not a thing to be taken lightly.

And so, in the moment Jeong Go awoke and shed tears, Jin Myeong offered Hyundo his first truly sincere thanks.

"Jang Jinmyeong offers his gratitude to the Zhenren. This kindness will not be forgotten for as long as I live."

"You insolent brat… Gratitude? Was it not a promise? If you go around committing evil with the dantian this poor Daoist restored, just you watch."

A few days later, in the afternoon, at Yeongan Palace.

Crown Prince Zhu Gaochi and Crown Princess Zhang sat in the pavilion at the center of the pond, together with Imperial Grandson Zhu Zhanji and Princess Gaheung, Zhu Jingyuan. Jin Myeong and Jeong Go stood in respectful attendance to one side, along with two palace maids.

Hah… With my years of service, I have to stand here watching the Zhu family shoot the breeze.

At least it was Yeongan Palace. Had it been Zhu Gaochi's Dangyeong Hall… attending a man who, on the pretext of morning court and classical lectures, would make you wait a full two hours at the least — often four — was a hundred times, a thousand times worse than this.

"Your Highness, how has your honored health been of late?"

The question came from Zhu Zhanji, the eldest son who would one day succeed his father as emperor. At twenty-one, he had inherited both his grandfather's hardy, courageous nature and his father's benevolent, scholarly temperament — a young man the Yongle Emperor doted on above all others. That handsome, promising youth was one of the reasons a sickly Zhu Gaochi had been able to become emperor at all. Even should Zhu Gaochi depart this world early, this exceptional grandson would manage well enough. That thought had moved the Yongle Emperor's heart.

"Your father is well. Have you been reading the classics without fail?"

"Yes, Your Highness. Morning and evening, without neglect."

"Good."

"Your Highness, the Imperial Grandson knows perfectly well how to apply himself."

Zhu Gaochi had been winding up for another round of nagging when Crown Princess Zhang stepped in to head him off. Ever since losing his martial arts, Zhu Gaochi had grown increasingly obsessed with the literary path.

"Brother Zhanji, last time I told you about the inner attendant—!"

Just as Zhu Jingyuan was about to introduce Jin Myeong to her elder brother, an unexpected guest arrived.

An uninvited one.

"Well now, elder brother! You look like a man with time on his hands."

Zhu Zhanji and Zhu Jingyuan rose with stiffened faces the moment they confirmed who it was. Zhu Gaochi and Zhang, being the seniors, remained seated.

Six cheok tall, thickly built. A middle-aged man approached the pavilion radiating a raw, oppressive presence. Add to that the prominent cords of muscle along his jaw and those fierce, staring eyes, and he gave the impression of a wolf. He came on without the slightest hesitation. With every step he took, the air around him shoved aside in gusts.

"So the younger brother has come. What brings you?"

"What brings me? I came to pay my respects and see how elder brother was faring. And sister-in-law — you are in good health, I trust?"

The man who had called Zhu Gaochi "elder brother" offered his greetings to Zhang. The expression was warm, the voice was warm — and the atmosphere was nothing but ice. Look closely and the smile he wore was a twisted smirk, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not a genuine one. Moreover, Zhu Gaochi and Zhang were, in point of fact, the Crown Prince and Crown Princess. That he attached no honorific of rank at all, and simply said "elder brother" and "sister-in-law," was a rudeness that made plain how little love ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was lost between them.

Oil and water, one might say.

"The Prince of Han is in good health as well, I trust."

Zhang returned the greeting with an expression of unrelieved stiffness.

The wolf-faced man's identity was none other than the Prince of Han.

Zhu Gaoxu, Prince of Han. Second son of the Yongle Emperor, and the brother immediately below Zhu Gaochi. In temperament he had inherited only his father's brutality and cruelty, and he was every bit the born martial talent as well. Nearing forty, Zhu Gaoxu was a master of the Intermediate Peak Realm.

"Me? I just take all the sea wind I could ever want, down in Shandong."

Zhu Gaoxu had positioned himself deliberately to block the sun, and a shadow fell across Zhu Gaochi's family. The sight stirred fear in Zhu Zhanji, and in Zhu Jingyuan most of all. Zhu Zhanji was past twenty and of a naturally hardy disposition, and he was improving by degrees. But Zhu Jingyuan was still a child, and she was terrified of Zhu Gaoxu.

"Zhanji pays his respects to His Highness the Prince of Han. Has Your Highness been in good health?"

"J-Jingyuan greets His Highness the Prince of Han."

Zhu Jingyuan clung to her father's side and offered the greeting only because she had no choice. The tremor in her eyes made her fear of Zhu Gaoxu plain.

And Zhu Gaoxu was enjoying it.

"The nephews have been well too, I see. Huhu!"

If only he had not been the second son. If only the Zhu Gaochi before him had been the younger brother, not the elder. It was a thought that held Zhu Gaoxu in its grip without rest. His life's goal was a single thing: to push aside his own elder brother, sit upon the emperor's throne, and ascend to become a dragon.

Zhu Gaoxu was a vicious imoogi.

"By the by, elder brother, your honored person seems to have grown even stouter. You ought to train, for sister-in-law's sake and the children's."

"Yes, I know. Have you paid your respects to His Majesty?"

Zhu Gaoxu had ignored protocol and sneered outright, but Zhu Gaochi answered with composure. It was a far cry from the thunderous dressing-down he had given Hainan not long ago — and it was so for two reasons. First, Zhu Gaochi's nature was scholarly and kind. Second, from childhood he had watched his grandfather Zhu Yuanzhang and his father Zhu Di wage an unending war of flesh and blood, and he had come to feel only revulsion for it. The calm was the expression of a conviction: that he, at least, would not do the same.

"Not yet. I meant to see elder brother first."

"That is not proper. You ought to have paid your respects to His Majesty first. That will be all. We were in the middle of spending time as a family, for the first time in a long while."

"How cold. I've only just arrived and already I'm being shown the door. Nephew Zhanji! How has your martial achievement been coming along?"

Zhu Gaoxu was not a man to obey his elder brother meekly. He glanced at Zhu Gaochi, then turned to Zhu Zhanji. Zhu Gaochi's face hardened further, and the shadow on Zhang's deepened. Her husband was frail to begin with and had lost his martial arts besides, which worried her enough — and she knew her brother-in-law's vicious nature all too well. She could not simply step forward.

"I am giving it my whole heart, Your Highness."

"Good. Let's have a look, then."

Zhu Gaoxu unleashed his killing intent without the slightest preamble. What he cultivated was the Nine Dragon Great Raksasa Divine Art — the same art practiced by the warriors of the Brocade Guard. Every time he encountered Zhu Zhanji, he did this: loosing his killing intent on the pretext of testing the boy's martial achievement. It was growing worse. Before long, it looked as though he would pick a fight in the name of a spar.

Zhu Gaoxu's intent was to use Zhu Zhanji as a pretext to humiliate the elder brother who had lost his martial arts.

Look well! The Yongle Emperor is a born martial talent, a hero of the realm — but what of his legitimate eldest son? The son who truly inherited his father's blood is me!

That was the claim. That was the demonstration.

"Gaoxu! Enough!"

"Father!"

Sick once more of a younger brother who could not be reined in at all, Zhu Gaochi poured out a shout of anger. Zhu Jingyuan, her face gone bloodless with fear, seized her father's arm and clung to it.

Then—

"Kh—!"

Zhu Zhanji, throwing himself in the way of Zhu Gaoxu's killing intent for the sake of his parents and his little sister, let out a groan.

"Imperial Grandson!"

Zhang shot to her feet in alarm. She was beside herself at the sight of her son forced to endure such hardship — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and it was in that exact moment that it happened.

A man of the same six cheok in height, but with far softer lines to his face, stepped into the space between the retreating Zhu Zhanji and Zhu Gaoxu.

With his back to Zhu Gaoxu.

"Your Highness."

A voice carrying a warm heat followed. The man who had stepped in was Jin Myeong, who had been watching from one side of the pavilion. Kneeling on one knee with his back still turned to Zhu Gaoxu, he met the eyes of Zhu Jingyuan, who had been trembling so piteously.

A quiet smile. As he looked at the frightened girl, the corners of Jin Myeong's eyes and mouth curved into a gentle crescent.