Chapter 5
“Yes.” Tian Ailang replied nonchalantly.
Dam Daegyeok took a deep breath before speaking.
“We are the eldest son and third daughter of the Shandong Damga family. You said you don't know much about worldly affairs, so you might not know this, but it's a family with quite a reputation. Just the direct retainers tied to our house number over 40,000, and if you add in those indirectly involved, it's easily more than 60,000. Could be even higher, really. We don't keep exact counts.”
“Wow...” Tian Ailang was simply amazed. Having lived alone with his grandfather all his life, numbers in the tens of thousands felt unreal to him.
“First off, the current imperial court has deep ties with the Demonic Cult.”
Tian Ailang's emotions chilled at Dam Daegyeok's next words. The very mention of the Demonic Cult ignited a flash of killing intent within him.
He noticed Dam Soyeon going pale, startled by his aura, and quickly reined it in.
“Ah! Sorry, young lady.”
“N-no, it's fine.” Dam Soyeon blushed faintly and dipped her head demurely.
The three of them had sorted out how to address each other before descending the mountain. Dam Daegyeok had started calling Tian Ailang “young hero,” so Tian Ailang simply called him “Dam young hero” in return. But Dam Soyeon had insisted on being called “young lady” rather than the usual “little sister,” and Tian Ailang—having no strong feelings either way—had gone along with it.
Dam Soyeon, who had always been called “Soyeon” or “miss” back home, had longed to hear that romantic “young lady” from the novels. Tian Ailang's handsome looks, profound martial arts, and heroic air as he swooped in to save them in their hour of need—he was the ideal man she'd dreamed of while cooped up in the family compound. Dam Daegyeok had tried to object to the odd form of address, but he'd let it slide after glancing at his sister's expression.
“Ahem. Anyway, the Damga is currently rejecting the court's demands to serve in office outright. So right now, we're just a renowned scholarly house, nothing more. In other words, we have no ties to the Demonic Cult. As you saw earlier today, their people even tried to kidnap us to threaten our family elders—hardly what you'd call good relations.”
Tian Ailang nodded. Dam Daegyeok nodded back, took a short breath, and then spoke cautiously.
“That's why I have to ask... are you perhaps a descendant of the Qi Clan?”
Tian Ailang was startled. He hadn't expected to meet someone familiar with his family. According to his grandfather, the Qi Clan had secluded themselves deep in the Baekdu Mountains behind formations, devoting themselves solely to researching qi arts. They had no real contact with the outside world—only occasional outings by clan warriors for basic supplies and research materials. So naturally, he'd assumed that after twenty-odd years, the world had forgotten the Qi Clan entirely, as if they'd vanished without a trace.
Tian Ailang met Dam Daegyeok's eyes. Dam Daegyeok didn't flinch from his serious, enigmatic gaze. He wanted to convey his sincerity.
Clear. Both his eyes and his energy. No malice in that question.
Tian Ailang nodded lightly.
“Yes. I'm the sole survivor of the Qi Clan.”
“...Yahoo!”
Dam Daegyeok, who'd been tense with anxiety, let out a childlike whoop of joy at Tian Ailang's words. The waiter glanced over at the sudden noise. It was a remote inn at a late hour, with no other diners around.
Dam Soyeon calmed her jubilant brother.
“Ahh! I just got so excited. Sorry if I startled you. I've always admired the Qi Clan. Finding traces of them that others don't know about has been my lifelong dream! That's why I secretly brought my sister to Baekdu Mountain.”
Dam Soyeon nodded in agreement with her brother.
“Yeah, Mom and Dad dote on me, so he figured he'd use me as cover. But actually achieving the goal feels surreal.”
Dam Soyeon looked back and forth between Tian Ailang and her brother in astonishment.
“But how did you know I'm a descendant of the Qi Clan?”
Dam Daegyeok barely contained his excitement as he answered Tian Ailang's question.
“That orb of light. It felt a bit different from the records, but that attack was the clincher.”
“Records? There are records?”
Could records of his exterminated clan still exist? Tian Ailang's expression warmed.
“Yes. Our family acquired copies from investigations by the Beggars' Sect, the Hao Clan, and even the court. The descriptions vary a little, but they all conclude that 'the Qi Clan's patriarch, Cheon Seoksan—the supreme martial artist under heaven—unleashed orbs of condensed internal energy with explosive power like bombs.'”
“Supreme under heaven...?”
“Ah! The presumed supreme artists at the time were the Heavenly Demon or the Supreme Cult Leader. But get this! Cheon Seoksan of the Qi Clan faced them both single-handedly, killed the Supreme Cult Leader, gravely wounded the Heavenly Demon, and went down with them. That's why the world records him as the supreme under heaven.”
“Ah...”
Tian Ailang's chest burned hot. His father's death wasn't in vain—it was honored by the world. And the clan he'd thought forgotten was still remembered in records. That thrilled him. His grandfather's stories had only covered the start of the battle and the clan's destruction. Hearing more by chance filled him with joy.
“Anyway, I've always admired that Qi Clan, so meeting a survivor like this is beyond thrilling.”
“Haha... This is the first I've heard of my father's exploits too, so I'm happy as well. Can I hear more?”
“Hahaha! Of course, of course! I know the Qi Clan's records inside and out—I could talk all night... Wait. Father?”
“Yes. Cheon Seoksan, patriarch of the Qi Clan, was my father.”
“Whaaat?!”
Crash.
Dam Daegyeok toppled backward in shock, while Dam Soyeon quietly spat out the thin noodles she'd been eating in surprise.
* * *
“So, Kusira wants our help again?”
A voice echoed in the pitch-black secret chamber.
“Watch your words. He's the crown prince.”
“You'd do well to watch yours. Keep flapping that ignorant mouth, and I'll rip it off myself.”
“...”
“Enough. State your business and go.”
A man in a rough animal-hide changpao spoke calmly and impassively.
“Crown Prince Kusira seeks your aid.”
Thud! At a gesture from the Blood Demon, patriarch of the Blood Cult, seated on a towering throne-like chair in the chamber's center, the emissary felt an invisible gravitational force and dropped to his knees.
“You don't seem to grasp your place, so I adjusted your eye level myself.”
“Urk... I am the emissary of... His Highness the crown prince...”
“What? So what? We assassinated the emperor at his request, and after radio silence, he suddenly wants 'help'? Is that how you people calculate things? Blood Brain!”
“Yes!”
Blood Brain, his face a scarred, lumpy mess of burns, emerged silently from behind a pillar in the dark room.
Blood Brain was said to be brothers with Demon Brain, the head of the Demonic Cult, but they weren't on good terms. The reason? Blood Brain despised being compared to his handsome brother due to his own disfiguring burns. On top of that, his genius was often undervalued because of his looks. So he'd defected to the Blood Cult, claiming the role of its mastermind, and played a huge part in its growth.
“Did we get anything for assassinating the emperor?”
“No. Autonomy over our main base in Inner Mongolia, smooth expansion into Hebei, Shanxi, and Shaanxi—sure, those might come after Kusira seizes power. But we haven't even seen the promised imperial martial manuals or spirit elixirs.”
The Blood Demon eyed the emissary lazily as Blood Brain reported.
“That's what he says. Well?”
The emissary sweated profusely under the Blood Demon's killing intent and crushing internal energy pressure, but kept his expression neutral. He had his own side to argue, but the Blood Demon's unpredictable behavior made him hold his tongue.
The emperor's assassination had been a deal aligning the interests of the Blood Demon and Second Prince Kusira Crown Prince. From Kusira's view, he couldn't surpass the emperor and First Prince Togtemur Crown Prince at this rate. And the longer the emperor lived, the stronger the first prince's fully backed faction would grow—leaving Kusira desperate.
Meanwhile, the Blood Cult saw assassinating the emperor—who was entangled with the mighty Demonic Cult—as a way to upend the board and check their rival, aiming to rise as the top power in the martial world. The Blood Demon also hoped that with Kusira on the throne, unifying the jianghu wouldn't be a pipe dream.
The emissary endured the pressure and answered haltingly.
“His Highness did mention rewards for your merits. It's just that Togtemur's recent crackdowns have delayed preparations. You'll receive them soon.”
The Blood Demon released the emissary from his aura. Unflustered, the man kept his knees on the ground and met the Blood Demon's gaze steadily.
“Fine. I'll trust you on the rewards one more time. Kusira's got some spine, sending a messenger with guts. And good instincts too. I was about to chop off your legs so you wouldn't have to kneel again if you stood up—would've saved the hassle.”
“...”
“Whatever. So what's Kusira's request?”
The emissary gathered his thoughts with a breath and spoke.
“We've received word of recent movements from the Demonic Cult. Do you know of them?”
The Blood Demon recalled what Blood Brain had told him not long ago.
“Yeah, something about kidnapping the Damga kids from Shandong to threaten their elders, right?”
“Exactly. Prince Togtemur, to counter Crown Prince Kusira, asked the Demonic Cult to absorb the Damga family's power—by kidnapping the children for leverage.”
“What good's one scholarly house gonna do? That idiot.”
The Blood Demon grimaced in disbelief, leaning back on the chair's armrest.
“It's not 'just' one. The Damga have 30,000 private troops. All elite.”
“What?!”
The Blood Demon sat up straight in surprise.
“How's that even possible? Isn't that excessive for a single family's guards?”
“It had to be. They've been a powerful house producing prime ministers since the Song Dynasty. After the Yuan founding, they've spent nearly a century building internal strength without outward activity.”
“So what's the real ask? You want us to attack the Damga?”