The Last Blood Arrow

"Aaaaaagh—!"

Then came a dull, frozen thud. The iron bow that had loosed the blood-death arrow was driven into the frozen earth, and Gong Jeong-mun sank to his knees, still clutching the upper nock.

He lowered his gaze. Faces were drawn upon the ground at his knees.

The faces of his household. And the faces of grandchildren who would live without ever knowing their roots.

Better that, he thought, than to live as the grandchildren of a martial man who had failed in his vengeance and died a wretched death.

If this old man had been you, he would not have done as you did. Thank you.

Having laid down the burden of a lifetime, Gong Jeong-mun looked past the Yongle Emperor's shoulder, still watching Jin Myeong. Those present assumed he was staring at His Majesty's back.

So the bloodline of the Holy Mother Palace still survives.

Gong Jeong-mun acknowledged him. He accepted that the young eunuch was a disciple of the Holy Mother Palace before he was a eunuch, and he chose to believe it.

The Holy Mother Palace of Mount Snow was known to have been destroyed long ago. It was not a name anyone could simply pull from the air without a lineage to stand on. If the young man had truly meant to deceive him, he would have named some other sect.

No wonder he possessed martial prowess so unbefitting his years. He was the Martial Master of the Holy Mother Palace.

Gong Jeong-mun had never seen the ring the young ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eunuch produced with his own eyes — a ring held only by three: the Holy Mother, the Literary Master, and the Martial Master. But its appearance had been recorded, and it matched without error. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Holy Mother Palace had been that famous, once.

More than that — if it became known that a disciple of the Holy Mother Palace had disguised himself as a palace eunuch, his head would leave his shoulders before the day was out. Which meant the young man had trusted him enough to speak of it. That, surely, was one face of the chivalry the jianghu claimed to uphold.

If he is a disciple of the Holy Mother Palace, he can be trusted.

And so he did not shoot the sovereign.

He had considered it. Once he was dead, what did the fate of the realm matter? For a moment he had thought to simply finish the goal he had honed and honed again across eighteen long years.

A grand cause? He had not entered Suchengye in service of Suchengye's grand cause. All he had ever possessed was a small wish: vengeance for his family.

Eighteen years... so this is how those years come to an end.

He did not care what became of the world. But the grandchildren who would be left in that world — that, he cared about. He could not bequeath them a realm paved over with vengeance. This shabby, wretched world that had not known a single smile in all those long years.

Covenant Lord... Grand Preceptor...

Anyone who harbored a grudge against the Zhu imperial house — even their nine relations and their acquaintances, out to ten degrees of kinship — was a recruitment target for Suchengye. Setting aside the Sacred Cult of Tianshan, who denied the Ming itself and sought to restore the Song, Suchengye had stretched its hands through the rest of the orthodox and unorthodox martial world. They would surely be searching for the grandchildren.

It seems the Covenant has met an opponent who will not be easy to handle.

Even for Suchengye, the eunuch in the Touhou Robe and the Eastern Depot would be no mean adversaries. He could rest easy leaving the matter in the young eunuch's hands. The grandchildren would not be used as instruments of vengeance the way he had been.

In a certain light, it might look as though he were placing his grandchildren in the hands of his enemy. But just as the young eunuch had confined the crime of treason to the Blood Death Archery Corps alone, excluding the grandchildren — Gong Jeong-mun found peace in confining his own enemies to Zhu Di and his ministers, in the Jingnan Campaign of eighteen years past.

A thread of inner energy carried Jin Myeong's voice across the snow.

Jin Myeong answered with half-lidded eyes. Gong Jeong-mun's reply came back along the same silent thread.

"A eunuch knows only compassion... knows compassion... This old man did not know eunuchs. I entrust my grandchildren to you."

"A eunuch's word is worth a thousand gold."

"Look to Songlim Garden in Chuzhou."

"Elder."

Jin Myeong sharpened every sense he had. He had known this was coming. He had half-doubted it even as he hoped — and it had struck true. He had tossed the line knowing that Gong Jeong-mun had once tried to put distance between himself and Suchengye for his grandchildren's sake. At last, the old man had opened the channel.

Good. I've got a lead, at least.

What Jin Myeong had wanted was information on Suchengye. In effect, this was the true beginning of his work as Chief of the Inspection Bureau of the Eastern Depot.

Zhu Gaochi, thanks to Yi Gwak's words, believed the Gong-eun Snow Lotus Thread to be poison to him. Which meant it could not be obtained by chance. The only path was to request it directly — and to become a man who could make such a request, he would have to keep stacking achievements. That meant he and Zhu Gaochi would need to become to each other what the Yongle Emperor and Zheng He already were. It also meant Jin Myeong would have to seize a station and an authority equal to Zheng He's own.

Songlim Garden... doesn't seem like their headquarters. A branch, perhaps?

Songlim Garden in Chuzhou. Chuzhou, at least, was close. Checking it would be no trouble at all. But the riddle that had followed the name of the garden — that, his instincts told him, was the real thing.

Clouds, and Heaven, and the True Ming...

Jin Myeong's mind worked at a clip. He stored every syllable, every particle, even the order of the words, exactly as they had been spoken.

Gong Jeong-mun's voice came again.

"Elde—!"

Jin Myeong started to press for more — and time ran out. That was as far as Gong Jeong-mun would go.

The blood-death arrow that had climbed into the sky came down and punched through the left side of Gong Jeong-mun's back as he knelt. A ten-tael axe-blade arrowhead drove through his heart, and Gong Jeong-mun's breath stopped in that same posture, as if he had simply chosen not to rise.

Scarlet blood welled from his heart, ran down the shaft of the blood-death arrow, and soaked the white snow.

Then, with a chorus of clicks, the golden blades that had been leveled at Gong Jeong-mun returned to their scabbards, and the blood-light that had lived in a thousand blood-claws guttered out and died.

With Gong Jeong-mun's death, the Blood Incident at Mount Baohua — the greatest affair of the eighteenth year of Yongle — drew its curtain.

There was no one left to welcome it, and still the heavy snow kept falling, without hurry, without end. As if it meant to cover a wretched tragedy. Just like that.

Two days later, at the Ministry of Revenue.

The desk of Jin Su, Rank 5 Langzhong and head of the Office of Records — the bureau beneath the Ministry that managed the realm's lands and fields — was buried under a mountain of documents.

"Who's here?"

A ninth-rank clerk had come to inform Jin Su, who was poring over papers with hollow, exhausted eyes, that he had a visitor.

"Jang Jin of the Directorate of Ceremonial, the Supervi—"

"The empire's celebrated eunuch?"

Jin Su cut in before the clerk could finish. These days, the officials of the court heard "Supervisor of the Directorate of Ceremonial" and thought of Jin Myeong as a matter of course. Was he not the man who had risen through the ranks at a historic pace for the merit of saving the Crown Prince and the Empress? And martial instructor to the Imperial Grandson, besides. He had heard the man was barely twenty.

"That is so, Langzhong."

"Show him in at once."

"Yes, sir."

Having received permission, the clerk went to fetch Jin Myeong.

A moment later, Jin Su was still staring at the mountain of paper and groaning under his breath.

"I'm drowning in work, damn it. Just because he's riding high these days doesn't mean I have to—"

Then he saw Jin Myeong already standing in the doorway of his office, and nearly jumped out of his skin. He recovered with a smoothness that was, under the circumstances, almost admirable.

"My, my! Who do we have here? I've heard so much. Hahaha!"

They said he was quite the figure. They weren't lying. What on earth possessed a man like that to become a eunuch? With looks like his, he could have spent his whole life in luxury just chasing rich men's wives.

That was Jin Su's first impression. Even among men, Jin Myeong's face was the kind that forced a thumbs-up out of you. And over that, a sheen of black silk embroidered in gold thread with a two-horned dragon-serpent — the Touhou Robe. In place of a belt, an imperial sword wrapped his waist: Cheonyang Biyeon. And seated upon that Cheonyang Biyeon, the Jeong-eum Divine Blade.

Hell. Even envy ought to keep to its own weight class. I never thought I'd find myself jealous of a eunuch.

They were the same Rank 5, but the Touhou Robe and the imperial sword were things Jin Su had never so much as laid a finger on, and he coveted them bitterly.

In that interval, Jin Myeong raised both hands and clasped them in a formal salute.

"Your Excellency. This one is Jang Jinmyeong, Supervisor of the Directorate of Ceremonial."

"Your Excellency, between two men of the same Rank 5? Sit, sit. Shall I have tea prepared?"

"No need. I can hardly come to the busiest of the Six Ministries and expect to be waited on. I'll ask what I came to ask and take my leave."

"As expected — the inner attendants of the Directorate of Ceremonial know the court's circumstances inside and out. I'm grateful you take them into account."

"You're too kind."

Before coming to the Ministry of Revenue, Jin Myeong had already stopped at the Ministries of Personnel and Rites to fish for information on the conferment of honors. He had important business here.

There were occasions when the Emperor bestowed rewards on impulse, but most followed a form: the relevant office among the Six Ministries deliberated, submitted a memorial, and the Emperor approved it. Land, treasure, rank, title — if you simply flung them about without a plan, the whole structure would crack.

"So, then. What brings you to this official?"

"I understand my name is on tomorrow's conferment of honors. That's why I've come."

"Ah—! Well, of course it would be. This official heard of the Supervisor's martial exploits and felt a shiver run through his whole body, I don't mind telling you."

The Blood Incident at Mount Baohua, two days past, was already the talk of Yingtianfu and the entire court — and only two days had gone by. Yesterday, the market stages of Yingtianfu had put on popular plays with the Blood Incident as their subject, and the heroes of those plays were the eunuchs, Zheng He and Jin Myeong among them. It was no exaggeration to say that cries of "Bravo!", "Magnificent!", and "Aye!" could be heard in every quarter of the city. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before the story spread through the whole empire.

"Now, let me see. The papers the Minister gave me... yes, here. Jang Jinmyeong, Supervisor of the Directorate of Ceremonial, Shuntian Prefecture? What— Shuntian Prefecture?"

Jin Su's eyes went round as saucers as he scanned the conferment documents.

"Is there a problem?"

"Good heavens... I'd heard you were remarkable, remarkable, nothing but remarkable — and now I see you truly are. Shuntian Prefecture. The land the Supervisor will be granted tomorrow is in Shuntian Prefecture. My congratulations, Supervisor."

Jin Myeong, in other words, was to be granted land in Shuntian Prefecture — the new imperial capital. For a eunuch destined to grow old and die as a ghost of the palace, receiving land outside the walls was an exceedingly rare thing. Of course, most of the Grand Eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial held estates and private residences of one size or another beyond the palace. But that had been unthinkable in the days of the Hongwu Emperor and the Jianwen Emperor; it had only begun under the Yongle Emperor's reign. And Jin Myeong was not a Grand Eunuch. He was a Supervisor.

"You have my thanks, Langzhong. Might I know where in Shuntian Prefecture?"

Jin Myeong asked it straight. He already knew he would receive land in Shuntian Prefecture — he had learned that much making his rounds of Personnel and Rites. In truth, he had never dreamed the state would grant him land, and he had not expected it. Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial or not, he was young, and his rank was only that of Supervisor.

"Hmm... that would be a little difficult, but... well, you'll know tomorrow anyway, so I'll make a special exception and tell you. You understand this is a secret, of course?"

"How could it be otherwise, Langzhong? Set your mind at ease. This eunuch's lips are heavy."

"Ahaha... yes, of course. Haha!"

Hearing Jin Myeong's answer, Jin Su snorted inwardly.

Heavy, my ass. First time I've ever heard of a eunuch with a tight lip. This castrate cracks jokes with a straight face.

Were not the ten thousand eunuchs the palace's rumor mill, every bit the equal of the nine thousand court officials? And if the nine thousand officials at least had the decency to tear a man down quietly, behind his back, the eunuchs tore you down coming and going, to your face and behind it, without a shred of restraint.

"Have you been to Shuntian Prefecture, by any chance? I'm not sure you'll know the place even if I name it..."

"Then I'll simply make the request outright. Could you change the location for me?"

A change of location for the land to be granted. That was why Jin Myeong had gone from Personnel to Rites to the Ministry of Revenue since morning.

The Emperor and the state decide a plot of land, and the Langzhong of Revenue and the recipient put their heads together and swap it on a whim? Under ordinary circumstances it was not worth half a copper. But the responsible officer was a Rank 5 Langzhong, and men of higher rank or greater influence tried it often enough — by threat, by pressure, by bribe, by sheer nagging, by every method under heaven.

If I'm getting land anyway, I want the land I want.

If he was to receive land in Shuntian Prefecture, it ought to be the yolk. The real prize. On a plot worth its weight in gold, you could mint gold even if there was no mine beneath it.

"I beg your pardon? Hahaha! I didn't expect you to come out with it quite so bluntly. Well, all right. It's not as if it's never been done. That said, the plot you're due to receive looks like a very fine location."

"Change it to here, if you would. I ask it of you, Langzhong."

Jin Myeong set his finger on the Ministry's map, which Jin Su had spread open, and indicated a point on the Tonghui River, southeast of the Forbidden City. The Tonghui River — a waterway cut in the Yuan dynasty, which the Ming now called the Datong River.

"Well now... the land to be granted to the Supervisor is at Jishuitan. It's a great pool, near the terminal of the Grand Canal. If you were to open even a private shop there, you'd be sweeping money into sacks."

By Jin Su's account, the Grand Canal ran through it, commerce would flourish, and the location was excellent in every respect. And Jin Myeong wanted to trade it away.

"What use has a eunuch for a mountain of wealth? There's nowhere to spend it at night. I only wish my private residence were close to the office where I'll serve."

Jishuitan was a great pool at the northern terminal of the Grand Canal that linked Shuntian Prefecture to Hangzhou — and Hangzhou was the Hangzhou of the old saying, Above there is Heaven; below there are Suzhou and Hangzhou. The Grand Canal that joined the imperial capital of Shuntian Prefecture to Yingtianfu, and on to Suzhou and Hangzhou where refinement and goods overflowed, was a goldmine in itself.

You don't know what you don't know. Jishuitan will be a kite with a cut string before long.

The problem was that the Ministry of Works would soon shift the city walls southward for the convenience of defending the northern ramparts. The Grand Canal's terminal would move from Jishuitan, north of the palace, to a point on the Tonghui River, southeast of the palace. And that new terminal would hold for a very long time.

Take the canal's terminal, and every boat that used the Grand Canal would have to stop there. The profit that followed did not need explaining. Plant a single stall and money would roll in of its own accord. It was a hen that laid golden eggs, nothing less.

As a site for Yuwol Pavilion — the finest wine house in Shuntian Prefecture — it couldn't be better.

Once they formally opened the sect, the family could not go on running a courtesan house, splitting themselves into performing girls the way they did now. The Beggars' Sect would rise up claiming the Holy Mother Palace was stealing their rice bowl. The land he was about to receive would be the ground from which the Holy Mother Palace leapt into a wealthy, powerful sect.

"Ah— ahh! The Eastern Depot!"

At the words "the office where I'll serve," Jin Su thought of the Eastern Depot. The Eastern Depot's grounds lay north of Dong'an Gate. The land originally to be granted, near Jishuitan, sat north of the palace; the land Jin Myeong now requested sat southeast of it. In the end, Jin Myeong's reasoning held together perfectly.

"Haha... To think the Supervisor is a man of such integrity. Now I understand why you rise so swiftly. Indeed! The empire's celebrated eunuch!"

Ignorant of what sat in Jin Myeong's heart, Jin Su clicked his tongue in wonder. Were eunuchs not a greedy tribe by nature? A people who slaked their twisted appetites with gambling, drugs, riches, pets, and pleasure.

This one's a complete oddity among eunuchs. Is incorruptibility the fashion in Great Ming appointments these days?

Jin Myeong was a eunuch who ran clean against every assumption Jin Su had ever held. Out of something like pity — thinking the young man simply didn't know better — he had even explained what the land near Jishuitan was worth. And still the man was ready to give it up, just so his walk to work would be shorter.

"Changing it is no difficulty, but as you know, the palace is still under construction. I'll need to consult the Ministry of Works to be sure there's no conflict—"

The ministry that oversaw earthworks and waterworks was the Ministry of Works. The business of the Six Ministries was bound together like that, organically. But who was Jin Myeong? A eunuch of thirty-three years' standing. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He already had that particular thread in his hand.

"I've already stopped at the Ministry of Works on my way here."

"Have you? Haha... You certainly don't let the grass grow. In that case, this official will first seek the Minister's approval, and then notify Personnel and Rites—"

That was when it happened.

"Who is it?"

"Ah! Your Excellency!"

A new figure had appeared in Jin Su's office. Startled by the arrival of a superior so far above him he could scarcely see the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man's boots, Jin Su shot to his feet and clasped his hands.

The newcomer was the head of the Ministry of Revenue of the Great Ming: Xia Yuanji, Minister of Revenue, a Rank 2 official. A man of immense renown, who would serve in the Ministry of Revenue for a full twenty-nine years, from the reign of the Hongwu Emperor through to that of the Xuande Emperor, Zhu Zhanji. The man most versed in the Ministry's affairs. A celebrated minister. A man famous for never withholding frank counsel, even from the Yongle Emperor, whom the civil and military officials of the court feared to the marrow.

And that Xia Yuanji's face was set in a fearsome scowl.