Thus, I Sentence You

Thud.

The head of Bong Yang, Prefect of Chuzhou, rolled across the shrine floor.

Blood poured from the severed neck of the corpse still slumped in its kowtow, soaking the floorboards in a dark, spreading pool. The thick reek of it mixed with the cold air and seemed to freeze there.

Drip. Drip.

Droplets fell from the Cheonyang Biyeon, still extended in a clean, rigid line above Bong Yang's prone body.

"The imperial blade His Majesty bestowed upon me is stained with a corrupt official's blood."

Jin Myeong's face twisted with distaste. He flicked his wrist once, shaking the droplets from the blade — and those droplets drove themselves into the white robes of Yu Jin and the scholars of Songlim Garden.

The scholars flinched. That had been deliberate. Aimed at them. They trembled.

Some had their eyes stretched wide enough to tear. Some had their fists clenched and their mouths hanging open. Some had half-risen from their seats and frozen there. Every man in the hall wore a different posture, a different face — but they shared one thing. Not a soul could find a word.

For a moment, time itself seemed to stop. A dizzying silence filled the shrine.

To put this kind of power in the hands of lowly eunuchs!

Yu Jin and the scholars of Songlim Garden knew perfectly well what a Prefect was. Junior Fifth Rank. A high office. And yet a eunuch — Senior Fifth Rank or not, in the end little better than a palace servant — had struck off the head of a civil official who had passed the provincial, metropolitan, and palace examinations and been properly appointed to office. And he had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠done it invoking an imperial decree.

The shock was total.

"S-spare us!"

"We have committed crimes worthy of death — waaah!"

"G-G-Gonggong!"

The ones who shattered that silence — tangled as it was with shock and a dozen scrambling thoughts — were Yang Hong, Magistrate of Qingliu County, Go Ryeong the Assistant Magistrate, and Yi Gam the County Registrar.

None of the three had imagined Jin Myeong would actually take Bong Yang's head. A scare, they had thought. A show of force. That was all.

He had actually done it.

The three of them pleaded with faces slick with tears and snot. It did them no good. Jin Myeong did not so much as glance at the men groveling on the floor.

"Gang Su. Deok Heum."

"Yes, Gonggong!"

"Bring them."

Having issued the order to fetch still more people, he simply lifted his teacup and savored the aroma.

A short while later, Gang Su and Deok Heum came in again, this time with two men in tow.

Jungtae, Senior Fifth Rank Vice Commissioner of the Jiangnan Surveillance Commission, and Sang Myeong, Senior Seventh Rank Investigating Censor of the Censorate.

The moment the two of them arrived at the shrine and took in the scene of the massacre, they went rigid with tension.

They had heard only one thing on the way here: the Grand Inner Attendant had taken the Prefect of Chuzhou's head. That was more than enough. They knew to crawl.

Sang Myeong, unlike Jungtae the provincial official, belonged to the Censorate in the capital. He already knew of Jin Myeong, and of the imperial blade Cheonyang Biyeon. Once he had explained as much to Jungtae — who had been grinding his teeth the whole journey, muttering that Eastern Depot or not, they were the same rank, and who did this eunuch bastard think he was, summoning him — Jungtae's nerve collapsed on the spot.

Eunuchs were unpredictable. If you did not want to die, you bowed.

Both men drew a single deep breath, then clasped their hands toward Jin Myeong.

"Gonggong! Jungtae, Vice Commissioner of the Jiangnan Surveillance Commission!"

"Sang Myeong, Investigating Censor of the Censorate, reporting as ordered. Gonggong!"

Sang Myeong knew Jin Myeong's face, and so he did not commit Bong Yang's error of saluting Gongsun Dajing instead.

"You've come a long way. The matter was urgent, so I summoned you — I trust you understand."

"What hardship? It is an honor to assist Gonggong and the Eastern Depot!"

"This official will assist as well. You need only command us, Gonggong!"

Jungtae set aside even the fact that they held the same Senior Fifth Rank. Sang Myeong, as the lower officer, still more so. They were as deferential as loyal subordinates before a direct superior.

"The officials of Qingliu County here have been collecting taxes from the people and lining their own pockets. They bribed Bong Yang, Prefect of Chuzhou, and there are further charges besides — embezzling stored grain, among others. I'm leaving this to you."

"What—! That such a thing occurred in a yamen under our Surveillance Commission's jurisdiction is deeply shameful. We shall investigate thoroughly and make an example of them, Gonggong!"

Jungtae laid it on thick on purpose. He was an officer of the yamen responsible for law and inspection across all of Jiangnan; his face was at stake. Sparks could fly his way, and he meant to look good.

"This official will immediately arrange for successor officials to be assigned, Gonggong!"

"Good. Take them. I'll receive your report tomorrow at the Qingliu County yamen."

"Yes, Gonggong!"

Jungtae and Sang Myeong, with Jiang Wenchen's assistance, dragged the three county officials out. The atmosphere in the hall grew even more deathly still.

Jin Myeong took the cold teacup in his hand and circulated his inner force. The green-gold liquor bubbled back to a boil in an instant.

"A bit too hot, perhaps."

The words were offhand. The steam that had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been rising from the cup like a heat-shimmer simply stopped.

Heating the cup in his hand, then cooling it — the whole thing done in the space of a blink.

Zhuge Chaosheng and his siblings watched every instant of it.

Half a move above us. Perhaps a full move.

Cold sweat sprang out on the palms of Zhuge Chaosheng and his brothers and sister, still holding their own cups.

"That should do it."

Jin Myeong took a sip, a pleasant smile on his face, as if the warmth of the tea finally suited him. He set the cup down with a click and turned to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yu Jin.

Yu Jin's face had gone rigid. He stared at Jin Myeong with cold eyes, and in the air between them their gazes collided.

Jin Myeong was the one who smiled — easy, unhurried, as if he were enjoying himself.

"Well. I've shown you what this official and the Depot are capable of. Where were we?"

He asked it with his eyes still locked on Yu Jin. The answer was not going to come from Yu Jin. It was going to come from Jeong Myeong-su.

"Treason, and a misunderstanding, Gonggong."

"Ah, yes. Treason and a misunderstanding. Headmaster. Has your opinion changed — that this Gonggong has misunderstood you and Songlim Garden?"

"What power would this humble one and this academy possibly possess to plot treason? I say it again: it is a misunderstanding."

There was something perfunctory and stiff in Yu Jin's manner as he answered. A pointed way of making it known that he found it deeply offensive to be suspected of treason, of all things.

"Is that so? Then take a look at these. You may change your mind."

Jin Myeong drew two bound registers from his robes and tossed them down in front of Yu Jin.

"And these are?"

"Look for yourself. You're the scholar. You'll know the writing better than I do."

"The Fish-Scale Cadastre and the Yellow Corvée Register. A land register and a yellow register."

Yu Jin turned the volumes over, checked the covers, and murmured it like a sigh.

"Turn about eight pages into the land register. You'll find something interesting."

"Say what you mean to say. Don't take the long way around."

"Oho. Your temperament. I like it. This used to be Yi Seonjang's land. Yi Seonjang, the Duke of Han."

Yu Jin said nothing.

"A scholar from Chuzhou, right on Yingtianfu's doorstep — and a distant relative of Liu Ji — claiming not to know who the first Chancellor of the Great Ming was? That doesn't hold."

"And what of it? This land was granted to my grandfather by His Majesty the Taizu Emperor when he served as a Hanlin Academician."

"That alone isn't a problem. His Majesty Taizu confiscated the land and bestowed it upon another minister. But here's the interesting part."

"What are you saying?"

"Song Jeon. Yi Yugyeong."

Jin Myeong pronounced the two names as if he were chewing each character. The moment they reached Yu Jin's ears, a suppressed breath escaped him — and everyone in the hall marked the reaction. It was utterly at odds with the composure he had shown until now.

"Those two are the true owners of the land this shrine stands on. You transferred it yourself, seven years ago."

"It was a private transaction, nothing more."

"Even a lowly eunuch like me knows that the heart of an academy is the shrine dedicated to the sages — Confucius, Mencius, and the rest. By handing this plot to Song Jeon and Yi Yugyeong, you made the entire Songlim Garden their hostage. Which means you and your family couldn't sell this academy even if you wanted to."

"An academy and land passed down three generations would never be so—"

"And if Song Jeon and Yi Yugyeong sold it?"

Jin Myeong cut him off at the knees.

"The shrine at the heart of your academy, sold out from under you. The new owner decides to tear it down and put in a latrine. What then? No answer, is there? That 'private transaction' of yours was never a transaction that could exist in the first place."

If the shrine — the geographic and spiritual center of an academy — and the land it stood on were sold to someone else, what became of the academy? Chaos. That much was obvious.

"Heh. An amusing argument. A latrine in the middle of an academy. But there is a flaw in Gonggong's reasoning. How, precisely, does the fact that Song Jeon and Yi Yugyeong hold land belonging to this academy connect this humble one and Songlim Garden to treason?"

He had a point. That fact alone could not bind Yu Jin and Songlim Garden to a charge of treason. Treason was a concrete act. There was no act.

The scholars and the Zhuge siblings nodded in agreement.

"Gang Su."

Jin Myeong, however, was no fool. He had no less wisdom and insight than anyone in the room — and he had been doing this kind of work for thirty-three years. He had not come here without proof.

"Yes, Gonggong!"

"Who is Yi Yugyeong?"

"The name of the one who, during the Yingtian incident last summer, conspired with Geum Jong-mu, Sect Leader of the Hainan Sect — executed for treason — and others, to plot the murder of officials."

"Did you hear that?"

"This is the first I have heard of it. Song Jeon and Yi Yugyeong are nothing more than an ordinary scholar and a woman."

How many men named Song Jeon and women named Yi Yugyeong were there under heaven? Yu Jin sneered at Jin Myeong as if the whole thing were absurd. It was acting of the very highest order — the kind that anyone who knew the truth of Suchengye and Songlim Garden would have had no choice but to admire.

"I knew you'd say that."

Yu Jin said nothing. At those words, a sense of unease rose in him by instinct. It meant the man had already read how this side would respond, and had come anyway.

"So I searched every plot of land registered under the names Song Jeon and Yi Yugyeong. And I found this. Gang Su. Give it here."

"Yes, Gonggong."

Gang Su shot Yu Jin a mocking glance as he handed Jin Myeong a long cylinder, opening the lid as he passed it over.

Every eye in the hall gathered on that cylinder. What was inside it, that this young eunuch could look so certain?

"Watch closely."

Jin Myeong raised the hand he had slipped into the cylinder, slowly, slowly — and then, in a single motion, ripped it free and drove it down.

The round table screamed as the thing punched into the wood. The long, slender object quivered in the aftershock of the force that had rammed it home, ringing as it fought to spend the blow.

"There are hundreds more where that came from. Hey. Young Clan Head."

Jin Myeong looked to Zhuge Chaosheng with the smile of a man who had just laid down a winning hand.

"Yes, Gonggong."

"The Young Clan Head will know what this arrow is. If the world-renowned Zhuge Clan of Divine Mechanisms cannot identify it, they ought to take down the plaque that says so."

"A Blood Death arrow."

Zhuge Chaosheng answered as if the words were being dragged out of him. From the start, his mind had been entirely occupied with how much Jin Myeong knew — and with when, and how, they were going to get out of Songlim Garden.

"The Blood Death arrow is the weapon of the Blood Death Archery Corps, one of the Eighteen Brigades of the Evil Path. The Blood Death Archery Corps is the rebel faction that caused the Mount Baohua massacre. Yu Jin. Weapons of a rebel army were found on other land owned by the people who hold the plot at the center of your home. What do you make of that?"

"Heh. Impressive. Truly impressive. Might this humble one ask one thing?"

Yu Jin's rigid expression loosened, as if the strength had gone out of him, and he smiled a bitter smile. It was not the look of a man who had given up. Not even close.

"What is your age this year?"

"Twenty."

"Ha! Twenty! Twenty years old! How is this possible? Ha! Haha!"

A eunuch who had barely come of age had torn open the entire connection between Songlim Garden and Suchengye, root and branch. It was astonishing. It was absurd.

"I warned them this could happen! A blunder! A fatal blunder! Haha!"

In truth, the blunder belonged to the Grand Preceptor, Song Jeon — a man whose nature was suspicion itself. Songlim Garden had already sworn loyalty to Suchengye. Suchengye's strength already surpassed Songlim Garden's several times over, dozens of times over. What did it matter whose name the land was in?

It mattered because Song Jeon, to prevent a betrayal, had split ownership of the shrine land between himself and Yi Yugyeong. That was why this disaster had come.

Yu Jin's hollow, rolling laughter cut off as if a blade had taken it.

"So it has come to this after all."

"You're confessing, then?"

"Ha! You little eunuch. Who in this world would simply confess to treason?"

Yu Jin, who had been speaking with formal courtesy the entire time, shed it in a single motion and rose slowly from his seat.

The sudden drop into insolence, the standing — these were not simple gestures. They were a signal. A signal to his men that the time had come.

From every direction came the sound of bowstrings drawing taut. Dozens of them. Hundreds.

The people in the hall whipped around in alarm.

Black figures bled into view along the walls of the hall and across the rooftops, packing the ridges and the ramparts until there was no space left between them.

Songlim Garden had been listening to every word spoken in the shrine from the beginning. The moment the names Song Jeon and Yi Yugyeong were spoken, they had already decided to bury Jin Myeong and his party. Yu Jin had stalled for time while the ambush was set.

"Confess or don't, you die either way. Not quite as clever as you think. I won't die quietly. And I don't need to. Treason is a crime that admits no compromise, no middle ground."

Yu Jin had already given up his own life. But if even one of his household was to be saved, he had to buy them time. Treason was a crime that annihilated nine generations.

The best way to buy that time was to put Jin Myeong's party — and every fact they held — in the ground. That, and nothing else.

"So all of you will die. You lowly eunuch lords."

"Rebel scum trying to murder imperial investigators to bury the evidence? Fine. You want a dance of blades? Who am I to refuse."

The man facing him looked, if anything, more at ease. Jin Myeong murmured it softly. He turned the cup in his hand, slowly, slowly — and then, in a single instant, clenched.

The teacup shattered in his palm. Its remains piled in a pale green heap at the edge of the round table.

He raised the hand that had crushed it.

"Yu Jin. Songlim Garden. Every last one of you."

The voice was almost indifferent. He began to point, one by one, at the killers on the roof, the killers on the walls, the scholars seated at the table. The pale green powder on his fingers scattered into the moon-bright sky.

Yu Jin said nothing.

"And thus—"

The hand drifting through the night sky came to rest aimed at Yu Jin, who had closed his mouth. In that instant, Jin Myeong — looking down on him with a gaze of elegant, unassailable arrogance — opened his mouth once more.