Unpredictable (2)
Drag this into a battle of justifications. Pull the First Young Master in deep enough, and a path to victory opens.
"Crush an opponent the moment they try to make it a battle of justifications, and we win."
Then we can stay at the First Young Master's residence together with Daseonrang.
"Then Wongak Pavilion can separate the Emei Sect from Daseonrang."
The Emei Abbess and Yeon So-hyeon. Two people who had never even set eyes on each other found their strategies colliding at a single point, as if by some impossible design.
Jeong-a draped the black silk thread outer robe over Yeon So-hyeon's shoulders and asked quietly,
"In the end, you mean to step forward yourself, my lord?"
Yeon So-hyeon gave a slight nod.
"If I mean to crush their justification with authority, then my own presence is the surest way."
His outer robe flared as he moved. His devoted chief maid fell into step behind him.
The sun was sinking.
At this hour on any ordinary day, the messengers of merchant houses, trading firms, and the great clans would have been settling into a leisurely evening. But today the street before the main gate of Wongak Pavilion held an unusually dense crowd.
"Daseonrang should be arriving any moment now."
"Do you suppose they really mean to open a new branch here in Luoyang?"
"The joint venture between the First Young Master and the Fourth Young Master is about to gain real momentum."
And beyond those professional contacts, curiosity-seekers had come as well, drawn by rumor alone.
"To see the greatest beauty of Sichuan with my own eyes!"
"You there in front—stop cutting in line!"
With so many people packed into the street before Wongak Pavilion, the clamor gave the Emei Sect supervisor nun's appeal even greater force.
"This document was given to us by the parents of the Daseonrang young ladies!"
The longer she spoke, the more heads nodded in the crowd, the more voices rose in agreement.
"That's right. How must those parents have felt, forced to send their daughters so far from home?"
Moreover, the nuns who had dismounted from their horses and carriages were lined up in a striking formation, hands pressed together in earnest prayer directed toward Wongak Pavilion. It made for a rather convincing performance.
"The Emei Academy must have shown itself trustworthy enough to the Daseonrang parents for them to entrust such a letter."
"Even if not, they would at least have wanted people from their own homeland watching over their daughters."
The murmuring swelled.
"Shouldn't the First Young Master of the Sword Family show magnanimity and take them in as well?"
"Exactly. The form of an invitation matters, of course—but His Lordship will understand a parent's heart."
Even the sharper-minded messengers among them, knowing nothing of Daseonrang's complicated circumstances, found the supervisor nun's justification persuasive enough.
Inside the carriage, listening to the supervisor nun's appeal, the young ladies of Daseonrang felt as though a hand were closing around their throats.
"A document they wrung out of our parents by threats…!"
The youngest of them shot to her feet, unable to bear it any longer, and the others seized her at once.
"You can't! If that truth gets out from our own mouths, there's no telling what will be done to our families back in Sichuan!"
"This is not the time for reckless action!"
The youngest sank back into her seat.
"But…! But…!"
Sang-gwan Nan-hwa quietly gathered the furious girl into her arms. The atmosphere inside the carriage was heavy. The Emei self-defense instructor riding with them sat rigid with unease, unsure what to do with herself.
Cheong-su clicked her tongue at the woman.
"Just what is the Emei Sect's problem, tormenting these good-hearted young ladies like this?"
"Th-that is…"
When the instructor stammered, Cheong-su's expression hardened.
"That is…?"
The instructor bowed her head low.
"…In carrying out the affairs of a sect, one must not put personal feelings first…"
"Hmph."
Cheong-su snorted at the muttered excuse.
Whether it's the so-called orthodox Nine Great Sects or these families that reek of nothing human—they're all the same. Barren and twisted to the core.
The nun's answer left a bitter taste in her own mouth as well. How many things had she done in her years as a martial artist of the Agency, serving the Luoyang Sword Family, that she could never quite accept? Had she not made a virtue of never questioning orders?
…At least I left because that irrationality sat wrong with me.
She let the discomfort show plainly on her face and glared out the window. Outside, the Emei supervisor nun's appeal was climbing toward its climax.
"…And so we beg of you, First Young Master—!"
In that instant a clear, ringing voice cut straight through her plea and severed it clean.
"Who the hell is making all this racket in front of someone else's house?"
Almost at the main gate of Wongak Pavilion, Yeon So-hyeon and Jeong-a stopped in their tracks.
"That voice…?"
A faint tremor of feeling crossed his face—something like nostalgia, a fragment of longing.
The street before Wongak Pavilion had already been packed with people drawn by Daseonrang. The Emei supervisor nun's performance had been oil poured onto boiling water. Between those who agreed with her, those trading opinions, and those locked in heated argument, the noise had reached its peak.
"Who the hell is making all this racket in front of someone else's house?"
Every sound died at once.
Most of those present had no idea why their mouths had closed. The voice that had cut through the uproar so cleanly was strange enough—but more than that, it carried a presence so stark and absolute that it seemed to fill the street itself.
The Emei nuns felt it too.
A master…!
The voice ringing so clearly through the chaos was steeped in vast internal qi. And more crushing still than that qi was the sheer presence of the figure now appearing in the distance.
"I was watching you for a bit, and you know…"
Across the silenced street came the measured sound of footsteps on flagstones. Even beneath loose, generous clothing, a hard, springy physique was unmistakable. She stood as tall as a grown man, her stride open and free. A blunt practice sword rested across one shoulder.
"This isn't some night market."
Long hair roughly tied with a cord whipped in the wind. Beneath that hair, a woman's eyes gleamed with a destructive, violent energy. She looked down on them all with open contempt.
"A pack of nobodies."
Her footsteps stopped. The crowd held its breath.
"I suppose I'll have to settle the score myself."
Beneath the streetlamps, Yeon Seo-rin—Second Young Mistress of the Luoyang Sword Family—revealed herself.
Those gathered here worked for the Luoyang Sword Family, or served as messengers for merchant houses and trading firms; they were naturally well-informed about the clan's affairs. And even if they had not been, it would hardly have mattered. In all the Central Plains, how many people had never heard the name of the figure standing before them now?
"Th-the Second Young Mistress!"
"The Tyrant of the Sword Family!"
"Heavenly Robe Without Seams!"
"Phoenix Among Men—Yeon Seo-rin!"
Voices rose from the throng, calling out her titles and her name. But this was nothing like the idle curiosity that had drawn them to gawk at Daseonrang. This was longing directed at the strong. Awe for one who reigned.
"Oh?"
Yeon Seo-rin gave the practice sword on her shoulder a little tilt and spoke toward the nuns.
"Aren't these Emei nuns?"
Her manner was arrogance itself. Yet not one among the Emei found anything strange in it. The aura that poured from her simply by standing there was too natural, too complete. Perhaps this was what the presence of a sovereign walking the path of hegemony in an age of chaos felt like.
"It is an honor to meet you."
The supervisor nun swallowed dryly, stepped forward, and clasped her hands in greeting.
"As the Second Young Mistress of the Sword Family has observed, we are of the Emei Sect of Sichuan, and—"
"You seem to have forgotten."
"…?"
Yeon Seo-rin cut her off without mercy, looking down on them with ice-blue eyes.
"I said I would hold you to account for the disturbance you've made."
"…"
There was no logic to it. No courtesy. People who would ordinarily have argued with ten mouths shut tight and said nothing. As if some unnameable force rode every word she spoke. As if she were demonstrating what it meant to inherit a ruler's blood.
The supervisor nun steadied herself and tried again.
"Even if you are the Second Young Mistress of the Sword Family…"
Her lips had gone bone-dry.
"We are members of the Emei Sect of Sichuan. To be treated in this manner is… difficult for us to accept."
Yeon Seo-rin's eyes curved into crescents.
"Difficult to accept?"
When she echoed the words, the supervisor nun forced a smile, thinking at least they were communicating.
"We merely wished to seek the First Young Master's goodwill—"
"Difficult to accept, you say."
Without so much as listening, Yeon Seo-rin stroked her own chin.
"Right. I can see that."
What on earth was one supposed to say? Another nun opened her mouth to help.
"Um…"
"In that case."
Yeon Seo-rin bared her teeth in a smile.
"Pick up your weapons like martial artists."
Her practice sword swung to point at the nuns.
"Fight like martial artists, and earn my respect."
It must have felt like this for a herb-gatherer who suddenly found himself face to face with a mountain tiger. Or a diving woman who looked up to see a shark. Even a practice sword without a single edge seemed to drive itself into their chests.
Th-this is not someone words and reason can reach.
The Tyrant of the Sword Family was more terrifying than anything they had heard.
The supervisor nun changed tactics, deciding to appeal to the people filling the street.
"Everyone! We only wished to—for the children of Daseonrang—"
But her cry died in her throat of its own accord.
"Ooooh!"
The throng was already chanting Yeon Seo-rin's name and titles with fevered eyes and roaring voices.
"Tyrant! Tyrant!"
"Emei has challenged Heavenly Robe Without Seams!"
"If you want respect, take up the sword!"
"Prove yourselves!"
Yes. This was the Luoyang Sword Family.
In the Central Plains, the great powers might weave schemes and plot in the shadows—but this was a clan where even the Chief Administrator of the Inner Court, who received the rites of an elder, walked on his own two feet. A family of warriors armed with martial spirit: the Luoyang Sword Family.
Amid the frenzied chanting and half-mad cheers of the crowd, the queen of warriors—Yeon Seo-rin, Heavenly Robe Without Seams—smiled with pure arrogance.
"Come on, then."
The nuns of the Emei Sect felt their knees go weak.
"Well now."
Still hidden from view, Yeon So-hyeon confirmed his elder sister's presence and let out a low, rolling laugh.
"…So that is the famed Second Young Mistress."
"Yes. That Second Young Mistress. My utterly unpredictable elder sister."
Yeon So-hyeon smiled and shook his head.
"The unpredictable path of a hegemon king. They say she inherited Father's blood more thickly than any of us—and that is no exaggeration."
That unshakable poise. How long had it been since he last saw that arrogant face? Yeon So-hyeon gazed at his own bloodline with a distant look in his eyes.
"…Yes. That person is my elder sister."