Old Hunting Dogs (4)

Impaled upon black thorns and hoisted into the air, Yang O-dan thrashed wildly.

Had he been an ordinary man, his breath would have failed him ten times over already. But anyone who possessed even a measure of internal qi was already something beyond the human. At his realm, such tenacious vitality was only to be expected.

And yet now that very superhuman life force only prolonged the agony, stretching it out longer and more terribly still.

"Gyaaah! Uwaaaaaagh!"

Each time he writhed in midair, blood sprayed from the wounds that pierced him through. Each time the pain wrung a scream from him, more blood poured from his mouth along with it.

The former family heads watched the spectacle from below—some collapsed where they sat, some on their knees, some sprawled flat on their backs. A twisted forest blotted out the sky. Black fog smothered every direction while blue will-o'-the-wisps danced on every side, and the sun itself had turned its face away.

And Yang O-dan danced in the air.

A deep, bottomless terror was carved straight into the minds and souls of everyone who beheld the sight.

Beneath the mask, Amcheonjonza's mouth stretched wide into something like a smile.

Now it was time to burn into those men a sight they would never forget—not even in death.

The former family heads watched as Amcheonjonza slowly rose into the air. As if heralding the final act of an execution, he floated before Yang O-dan and spread both hands. The vicious, talon-like black nails upon those hands caught the blue ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠will-o'-the-wisps and flashed.

Someone sucked in a sharp breath—and Amcheonjonza's form spun so fast the eye could scarcely follow.

The result of that spin was hideous.

A rain of blood fell from the sky. Chunks of flesh and scraps of entrails went flying. The faces and bodies of the former family heads, who had been staring blankly upward, were instantly plastered with that blood, that flesh, those fragments of innards. Blood poured into the open mouth of a man who had not even realized his jaws were hanging wide. Scraps of meat and gut clung to another's brow.

Someone screamed and rolled on the ground. Someone else leapt up from a sitting position. Someone else clawed madly at their own face with both hands.

Hundreds of black hands, large and small, surged up from the earth and twisted into grotesque shapes as if welcoming the rain. The black fog blanketing the ground flicked its tongue and writhed as though cheering. The will-o'-the-wisps whirled in every direction, dancing as if overcome with excitement, and even the trees that barred every path trembled with something like joy.

And high above, Amcheonjonza gazed down upon the great sinners amid a ghostly fire that burned ever more fiercely.

His rage overflowed like a volcano in full eruption.

Every last one of them—the true architects of the Northern War…

The moment the interests of all Sixteen Imperial Capital Families aligned with perfect precision, the decision for war had been reached with terrifying speed. And the result of that war, as everyone knew, was something the Imperial Court called a "victory"—though in truth it had ended with neither winner nor loser. By any honest measure of gain and loss, it could fairly have been called a de facto defeat.

But the war's aftershocks did not stop there.

Ironically, in the course of waging the war the wealth of the Central Plains as a whole only grew. International trade posted surplus after surplus, and the great families and merchant houses struck gold on the war bonds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Court had printed and poured into the market. Yet they alone enjoyed the wartime boom.

Year after year of major and minor crop failures forced freeholding farmers to surrender their land and become tenant farmers. The great families and merchant houses, flush with coin, bought up land with reckless abandon.

It was around then that the Ami Sect managed to seize so much of Zhongjing's territory in such a short span.

The already expanding great estates grew larger still, and under their efficient management countless tenants began to be driven off. Young men returning from the front lines—and the tenants who had been cast out—needed work. They flocked to the cities, city after city, hunting for it.

The vast city of Luoyang had already possessed a slum district of a scale few other cities could match. Now Luoyang's slums swelled to a size without precedent in the history of any dynasty ever raised upon this land. And that aftermath was still unfolding, in real time, even at this very moment.

I sent them letters. Again and again I sent them.

Before those men resolved upon war, Yeon So-hyeon had written again and again, urgently, pleadingly, begging them to abandon it. They ignored him every time. The fantasy of the political gains that victory would bring was simply too sweet—far sweeter than Yeon So-hyeon's bitter counsel.

It had not been to protect the nation. It had not been to protect their families.

The conscripts who had died wretchedly on the front lines longing for home. Those who had somehow returned alive only to perish under crushing labor afterward. The families who had already died under the brutal life of the slums. The original urban poor whose barely sustained existence collapsed under the influx of new destitute and who died in turn.

Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands—perhaps hundreds of thousands—of resentful spirits howled for vengeance.

The heavens trembled. The earth heaved.

A child perched upon Amcheonjonza's shoulder whispered into his ear.

The child named Yeong wept. Her scalding tears fell upon Amcheonjonza's shoulder.

Yes.

They all had to die.

Every last one of them had to be devoured right here.

They had to remain in the hell the Jeam Jincheon Scripture had made—in the most terrible torment even that hell could offer. Until their very souls were exhausted and spent…!

Why keep any of them alive?

They all had to die at once. And after that, everyone who had clung to men like them had to die as well.

And after that… after that…

Kill, and kill, and kill—

From the mouth of Amcheonjonza—from Yeon So-hyeon—a raw, desperate howl tore free.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

With that cry a gale howled forth, fierce enough to force every eye shut. The storm swept away the fog of demonic qi that had been thrashing across the ground. The will-o'-the-wisps shattered as if destroyed. The tangled trees that had blotted out the sky returned to their places.

Begone! Jeam Jincheon Scripture!

Beneath the mask, Yeon So-hyeon's eyes flew wide. The true qi of the Yang-Nature Heart Art, driven to its absolute peak, thrashed as if it were a living thing gone mad.

I am the one who lives my life. I am the one who shapes my fate!

Yeon So-hyeon raised both hands and ripped the mask from his face.

To the very last instant the mask clung on, stretching the skin of his face as it refused to let go. Only when the mask that symbolized Amcheonjonza had torn the flesh from Yeon So-hyeon's face did it finally come free.

I did not make a contract with the likes of you in order to be ruled by you!

The countless phantoms of resentful spirits that had filled every direction screamed as one and began to scatter.

Even the final phantoms of the resentful dead that the Jeam Jincheon Scripture had shown him vanished.

In that place only Yeon So-hyeon remained, standing firm upon the earth on his own two legs.

Yeon So-hyeon lifted his blood-caked face toward the sky. On the bright spring heavens, evening light had already begun its slow descent. Once again his truly superhuman will had suppressed that ancient demonic horror, the Jeam Jincheon Scripture. The blood from the flayed wounds of his face ceased to flow, and the injuries began, little by little, to close.

He lowered his gaze and looked down upon the great sinners of the realm. He regarded them with eyes full of contempt as they crawled on the ground like the basest, filthiest insects.

How should the punishment for crimes so vast—committed by these former family heads who had once wielded such enormous power—be carried out?

That question had been the greatest koan of Yeon So-hyeon's long years of endurance and suffering. And within him the decision had already been made.

If he simply killed them here as he had Yang O-dan, the Jeam Jincheon Scripture would wring endless torment from them. But that…

Would do this world no good at all.

Their suffering would bring no satisfaction to those who had already died and whose very souls had long since scattered. Their disappearance would not improve the lives of those for whom every living moment was already a kind of hell.

"Master."

Before he knew it, Chief Maid Jeong-a had approached and draped Yeon So-hyeon's black silk-thread outer robe across his shoulders. She had pressed the pressure points of the steward who had been receiving and watching her, then used her Dragon Eyes to exploit the blind spots of the manor's martial artists—all so that she might attend her master.

Startled by her sudden appearance, the former family heads whipped their heads around, scanning their surroundings and staring at one another. The landscape they had witnessed had already returned to normal. All the blood that had been flung across their bodies had already been absorbed by the Jeam Jincheon Scripture. But the ruined garden remained as it was. The empty place of the man who had vanished from among them struck them with a chill, gut-deep reality.

They could still hear Yang O-dan's screams ringing in their ears. They could still smell the reek of blood and flesh in their nostrils. They could still feel that lukewarm wetness on their skin.

To men in that state, Yeon So-hyeon smiled and spoke.

"Gentlemen. Did you all observe my little act of… adjustment clearly enough?"

Watching Yeon So-hyeon's slowly healing skin, the former family heads nodded like madmen.

"We saw it! We saw it, yes!"

He continued with the calm, shameless composure that was so characteristic of him.

"I would prefer that next time there be no need for another such adjustment."

"Of course! Naturally there mustn't be!"

Yeon So-hyeon chuckled under his breath. The former family heads laughed along with him.

"Ah, hahahaha."

"Hahaha…"

Only then did they realize they were still sprawled on the ground, and they scrambled awkwardly to their feet. Yeon So-hyeon slowly crossed his arms and regarded them.

How had these men understood the story Amcheonjonza had recited?

"Ha, haha. Indeed—when the First Young Master told us not to, we should never even have dreamed of something like war."

"Quite right. Absolutely."

"We should never have let that Yang O-dan strut about and take the command baton at the Imperial Palace."

"Naturally. That one was the man who ought to have borne responsibility for the defeat. Heh heh."

"From the start of the war we should have handed command to the Northern Grand General…"

"And for a fellow like that to already be scheming behind our backs, when the First Young Master has so graciously given us this fine opportunity again—tsk tsk."

Just as I thought.

Yeon So-hyeon shook his head inwardly.

These men are incapable of even feeling how many people suffered because of what they did.

Whether the flaw was innate or acquired, they simply possessed no capacity for empathy. And so they believed Yeon So-hyeon had slaughtered Yang O-dan as punishment for the defeat in the Northern War—which Yeon So-hyeon had told them not to wage—and for the private plotting Yang O-dan had attempted today.

These men cannot feel guilt in the first place, long before any question of repentance arises.

It was exactly as Yeon So-hyeon had expected. And that, in its way, made things easier.

"Haha! Well now. The fellow may have been old, but he had still reached a certain realm—the First Young Master's divine prowess is astonishing!"

The former head of the Ak Family—another military clan like the Yang—forced out a booming laugh.

"And to read the celestial signs and peer into men's hearts as well…"

"Indeed. Only someone of that caliber could display stratagems so steeped in the wisdom of the divine and the profound."

As they spoke they cast him furtive, timid glances, as if seeking some answer.

"Hmm. According to the celestial signs I have read, the Yang Family and the Min Family will soon suddenly announce a betrothal ceremony and declare an alliance."

Of course, that was a fact from his previous life's memories.

"Indeed…"

"So that was it."

The old men hummed and bobbed their heads. A decision of such weight between powerful houses was not going to change merely because a former family head had "disappeared." Going forward they would watch, and in time they would become certain that Yeon So-hyeon truly did peer into hearts and read the heavens.

Even as they traded remarks among themselves, the old men carefully avoided any mention of what Yeon So-hyeon had shown them. As if they had never heard a word of information about Amcheonjonza. Asking Yeon So-hyeon would clearly yield no proper answer, and there was no practical use they could make of the knowledge anyway.

And above all—

"With the First Young Master, we can certainly trust him and follow his plans from here on."

"Indeed. To keep this many old men from each thinking only of himself and going his own way, it would take someone of the First Young Master's level."

"That divine prowess, those stratagems! Is he not the perfect conductor? Heh heh heh."

They had finished calculating that Yeon So-hyeon who was also Amcheonjonza made a far sturdier, more profitable ally than Yeon So-hyeon the mere strategist. Even if their counterpart had been a demon worse than Amcheonjonza, they would have taken his hand at once so long as profit was guaranteed. The terror of Amcheonjonza might have been driven deep into the unconscious regions of their minds—but their principles of action and their natures had not changed in the slightest.

Same as with Donggwa Hyu.

It was the same result he had already confirmed experimentally during the Northern War merchant affair involving Donggwa Hyu.

"Now, now, everyone quiet! The First Young Master has already brought us great profit."

"Quite so. Then it is our turn to accomplish what the First Young Master desires."

All of them agreed, gazing at Yeon So-hyeon with smiles full of goodwill.

"Then, first—"

Yeon So-hyeon's mouth opened.

"Before I state my demands, let us discuss how we will handle the former head of the Yang Family, who has 'vanished under mysterious circumstances.'"

Yeon So-hyeon issued them their first directive.

"Ah, of course!"

At those words the old men licked their lips and began debating how to process that disappearance—and how to exploit it.

"With one less administrator in the mix, our influence will grow that much larger."

"Excellent."

To them, Yang O-dan was already a discarded piece. Not one of them felt a shred of regret.

"Then we'll handle this part like so…"

"If we do that, they'll move like this…"

Instead they devoted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠themselves entirely to finding ways to punish the Yang Family for joining hands with the Min.

It's like watching old hunting dogs cheerfully tear into the carcass of what was once their packmate.

By the time dusk had nearly fallen, the old men presented Yeon So-hyeon with the scheme they had devised. Yeon So-hyeon agreed without hesitation.

"An excellent plan."

Originally the arrangement had been that Yeon So-hyeon would provide the stratagems and they would grant his requests in exchange. Already they were stepping forward of their own accord to handle work that Yeon So-hyeon need not have done himself. It was no longer a mere transaction for the recovery of power—they had begun acting voluntarily, to maintain a relationship overflowing with sincerity and goodwill.

"Well then, next…"

Yeon So-hyeon began delivering his instructions to his "hunting dogs." The old hunting dogs gathered close and listened intently to their master's commands.

"Those are the matters you gentlemen can accomplish before you leave Luoyang."

The instructions were given. Everyone nodded.

"Of course we must manage at least that much."

"Only then will the First Young Master be all the more satisfied with this arrangement and favor us with even better stratagems going forward, no?"

They all laughed in good-natured agreement. Looking only at those expressions, no one would ever have guessed what had taken place in this garden only a short while before.

In the empty courtyard of the Gongsun Family, Yeon So-hyeon climbed into the steel carriage Jeong-a held open for him.

"I look forward to working with you all going forward."

Seated within, Yeon So-hyeon spoke through the open door.

"Oh my, it is we who look forward to working with you."

"The day grows dark—please take care on your way home."

The former family heads clasped their hands as one and bowed their heads. Their manner was more deferential than it had ever been. Looking at this scene, who would ever recall the way they had browbeaten and tried to strip him bare only a few hours earlier?

"Ah—and one more thing."

Every face turned toward Yeon So-hyeon in puzzlement.

"The matters I mentioned—you will begin them at once, I trust?"

The old men, drained of both physical and mental strength and thinking only of rest for the moment, jerked their heads up.

"Of course!"

"Need you even ask!"

As Yeon So-hyeon's carriage passed out through the main gate, they exchanged glances for a moment.

"I shall leave Luoyang at once to accomplish what he asked."

"Indeed. I must see the Provincial Governor of Henan."

"Then I shall meet with the Luoyang Magistrate."

"The First Young Master said the Gong Family will already have the Luoyang ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Magistrate and all the high officials of Luoyang standing by."

"Excellent. Then come with me at once!"

Their chests swelled at the thought of flaunting their power before the officials that very night. They drooled in anticipation of the greater influence their movements would produce.

Yeon So-hyeon's fourteen old hunting dogs began to run.

After crushing the Black Bone Sect, Yeon So-hyeon had said this to Se-a, Master of Hyeonwol Pavilion:

It does not matter what face I wear. Whether I am Mugeomza Yeon So-hyeon, or First Young Master Yeon So-hyeon, or Amcheonjonza.

In order to fulfill his responsibility—in order to fulfill his duty—he had made a bargain with the Jeam Jincheon Scripture.

Once I have resolved to fulfill my duty, everyone who bears responsibility must bear it.

And for that very reason he had refused the path of annihilation the Jeam Jincheon Scripture offered. He still refused it now.

Responsibility.

These former heads of the Sixteen Imperial Capital Families, too, would be made to bear responsibility by Yeon So-hyeon's hand. From now on they would not even question his instructions. They would simply move in accordance with Yeon So-hyeon's purposes and commands.

These men will devote the whole of their remaining lives to me.

Their power would be used to change the world. And as they changed the world, the influence and renown of First Young Master Yeon So-hyeon would only grow. Men without mercy and without guilt would, without ever knowing it, atone for their sins against the world—right up until the final moment when they met their end at Yeon So-hyeon's hand.