Uninvited Guest
A single crow flapped down and settled on the head of the man lying face-up toward the sky.
Its sharp talons tore the skin of his face as it landed, but the man did not react.
He was already a corpse.
The crow’s beak stabbed down hard; the dead man’s eyeball came free along with the optic nerve. With two or three tosses of its head, the bird swallowed the eye whole, then peered about.
The scene of the plaza reflected in those black beads.
Bonfires and fallen torches lit the square from every side. It was carpeted with bodies.
The crow spotted one who still twitched, crawling among the corpses. It hesitated a moment, then took wing again—because a woman with a sword was approaching the crawler from behind.
Her blade flashed and drove into his back. The crawling man’s breath cut short. The hand he had stretched to the last toward some distant point dropped lifeless to the stones.
A Wongak Pavilion maid, enemy blood streaked across her face, wrenched her sword free and looked down at the body. Tenacious. The underworld thug, still high on the drug Moksok, had been dragging his own trailing guts across the plaza as he crawled.
Without a flicker of unnecessary sentiment on her face, she drove her blade into the next survivor’s back.
She was not alone. Across the plaza, others moved in a loose lateral line, methodically ending the breath of every enemy still twitching.
“How shall we dispose of the enemy corpses?”
“Leave them as they are. We have no time to spare…”
To the senior maid’s question, Chief Maid Hyang relayed Yeon So-hyeon’s will.
“The Master’s order is that they need not be dealt with separately.”
The senior maid seemed to grasp something in those words.
“…Understood.”
Hyang’s gaze swept the buildings ringing the plaza. From gaps in the roofs, from tiny cellar vents, from holes in the stone façades, countless eyes watched. The orbs caught the light of the square and glittered even in the dark.
The poor who had hidden themselves to escape the fighting.
Confirming that their stares were fixed on the corpses strewn across the stones, Hyang lifted her face to the night sky and let out a small breath.
Flocks of birds wheeled overhead.
And tonight, it would not be the birds alone whose empty bellies were filled.
The midstream forward base commanded a full view of the plaza because it reused ground that had once held government offices in the age of the old dynasty. Though the grounds were now packed with structures thrown up by the poor, that very density had proven an advantage in building defenses. Without it, they could never have held out so long against the underworld’s assault.
“…That is all the treatment I can give for now, though a scar may remain on your face.”
The maid of the Wongak Pavilion maid corps touched the bandage Yeon So-hyeon had personally wound after treating her, and smiled. She was the one who had been struck full in the face when the string of her zither snapped.
“We are prepared to lay down our lives for the Master at any time.”
Yeon So-hyeon gave a wry smile.
“Even so, I cannot afford to lose any of you in a place like this.”
He rose, patted the shoulder of the maid who was bowing and withdrawing, and said, “You must grow stronger still, and remain with me to the very end.”
“…I shall take it to heart.”
Watching the maid leave with renewed resolve, Chief Maid Jeong-a spoke.
“She was the last of the urgent cases, my lord.”
Yeon So-hyeon’s gaze turned to the combat personnel of the forward base who were recovering their comrades’ bodies. Some wept; others merely reddened at the eyes; every last one of them clenched their teeth.
“…See that the bodies of the fallen are returned to their families without a single one left behind.”
The words were not directed at Jeong-a, and the answer came from those approaching him.
“Amitabha. We ourselves will see to their final road.”
They were the bald monk and Malko, the Valley of Sin supervisors for the Mercy House. Old acquaintances of Yeon So-hyeon, they skipped formalities and went straight into their report.
“We have raised temporary wooden palisades on the breached walls, and the recovery of the wounded is finished.”
“For the present emergency, this much primary cleanup of the forward base seems appropriate.”
“Very well.”
The old men made no mention of Yeon So-hyeon’s previously concealed martial prowess. They reported only what was necessary. Having weathered every storm the years could throw at them, they understood better than anyone how grave the situation in the lower reaches remained.
“And where is the other supervisor?”
There had originally been three Mercy House supervisors for the Valley of Sin.
“Ah, that one…”
Just then a middle-aged man who had finished treating the wounded with the physicians came hurrying into view. What made him stand out was not the haste—it was the gold of his hair and the blue of his eyes.
He was a foreigner of the Western Regions.
“I present myself before the First Young Master, leader of the Mercy House!”
Even out of breath, his pronunciation and the form of his greeting were surprisingly proper.
“So you are the one newly promoted to cadre—John, was it?”
John bowed his head.
“Yes. I am Priest John of the Order of Friars Minor, of the Rusty Brotherhood branch.”
Indeed, a rosary hung from his hand.
“Priest John. I have heard that you serve those in the lowest places just as you serve your Lord. I, Yeon So-hyeon, leader of the Mercy House, welcome you beyond the differences of faith.”
Whatever story had brought him so far from his homeland, John shook his head with a gentle smile.
“Beyond faith? Immortal Yak’s teachings differ little from the word of the Lord. To serve in the footsteps of the saints is the true path of glory.”
Hearing this, Malko smiled faintly and murmured to the bald monk, “…A priest who serves the one god, speaking of immortal-maiden faith. When he goes back he’ll be excommunicated just like us—excommunicated.”
The bald monk fought a laugh that had no place in the moment, scowling as he muttered a low invocation. “…Amitabha.”
A runner from the forward base arrived with a report.
“Preparations for withdrawal are complete.”
At the news the bald monk asked Yeon So-hyeon, a note of concern in his voice, “…Are you certain it is all right for every last one of us to pull out?”
Yeon So-hyeon nodded.
“Of course. I came in person precisely so that all of you could be committed to the lower reaches.”
From the highest roof of the forward base, the great banner of the First Young Master that Yeon So-hyeon had brought with him snapped in the wind. So long as he remained here, the underworld organizations could not strike the base by any direct means. They could neither assault the First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Family nor seize the forward base while ignoring the man who had displayed martial power of unfathomable depth.
“You know what you must do once you reach the lower stream, I trust?”
The Mercy House supervisors nodded as one.
“Gather the poor who are well-disposed toward the Mercy House, organize them, and restore order.”
“If we go ourselves, we can persuade the rioters still looting to disband.”
Even without specific orders, they already understood their tasks. Capable men.
“Good.”
Yeon So-hyeon glanced at the stars and gauged the hour.
“By now the underworld gangs will all have withdrawn from the midstream.”
As if on cue, Il-ryeong’s transmission arrived after completing the riverbank patrol.
[Master, the safety of the retreat route is secured.]
“Begin the withdrawal.”
Yeon So-hyeon did not reproach them for allowing every Mercy House supervisor to become isolated in one place. The situation had been exceptional enough to excuse, and he could tell the supervisors were already reflecting sufficiently on their own.
“We obey the leader’s command.”
They moved at once without further word.
“Withdraw! We are withdrawing!”
The column of armored carriages Yeon So-hyeon had brought in generous number was more than enough to carry the forward base’s personnel, even if the fit was tight.
[Priest John.]
At Yeon So-hyeon’s transmission, John, just about to climb into a carriage, looked back.
[In the North China region, firearms are controlled for exclusive military use.]
John’s eyes widened; his hand brushed his breast.
[But from now on, use them freely whenever the situation demands. I will take full responsibility.]
At that transmission, John bowed deeply to Yeon So-hyeon and climbed into the carriage.
The maid corps likewise left only a minimal detail behind and followed the column with light-footwork techniques. Il-ryeong took the lead.
Watching the column leave the plaza to the last, Yeon So-hyeon spoke to Jeong-a.
“…Find the safest place within the base. Somewhere no one comes or goes.”
Jeong-a guided him at once. Through her Dragon Eyes she had already read his condition.
“First Young Master.”
A bleak voice turned Yeon So-hyeon’s gaze. There stood Tang Baek, face expressionless.
“I will stand guard with the chief maid as well.”
For a moment Yeon So-hyeon said nothing, merely studying him. Had he read something in those eyes that held not even a fragment of emotion?
A chill valley wind passed. Then Yeon So-hyeon spoke.
“…Granted.”
In the deepest chamber of a building that had once been part of the government offices, Yeon So-hyeon sat cross-legged. His face was bloodless, deathly pale.
“Huuuu…”
A single oil lamp burned beside him, yet somehow it cast no light at all. The black aura seeping from his body warped and twisted everything around him.
This is the limit of the internal energy I can use at present.
That internal energy is finite is common knowledge, but Yeon So-hyeon’s case was more particular still.
Voices like metal grinding on metal throbbed inside him. They seemed ready at any moment to tear free of his flesh and crawl into the open.
Lamenting voices rang endlessly in his ears. The phantoms of the resentful dead shown by the Jeam Jincheon Scripture streamed without cease.
“Huuuu…”
Yeon So-hyeon crushed down the demonic energy that boiled up in proportion to the internal energy he had spent. He was circulating the Yang-ui-sim-bup he had refined himself to its absolute limit.
In the world of his mind’s eye, the thread-thin remnant of Yang-ui-sim-bup energy screamed white-hot, desperately defending his consciousness. As the energy dwindled, so too did the protection of his spirit.
“Huuuu…”
Yet through peerless depth of cultivation and sheer force of will, he reached the furthest depths of himself and at last sank into a state of no-self. The upper dantian he had artificially formed opened, and his mind was forced into the clarity of still water.
How long passed, he could not say.
The demonic energy flooding from his body gradually stilled.
It was a feat that could fairly be called possible for Yeon So-hyeon alone.
On the roof of the building where Yeon So-hyeon sat, Tang Baek stood like a statue, his sharp gaze sweeping every direction. An uncanny, ominous aura had been rising from beneath the roof, yet he only twitched a brow. If anything, he sharpened his senses and presence further, reinforcing the perimeter so that none could approach.
Trust…?
Watching him for a moment through her Dragon Eyes, Jeong-a thought, …Is there something in him that resonates with the Master?
Of all those she had observed since opening her Dragon Eyes, Tang Baek possessed the heaviest mouth and the steadiest mind—excluding her own master, of course.
And the Master had granted him the right to stand guard.
So Jeong-a simply kept the entrance of the building where Yeon So-hyeon circulated his energy, showing nothing on her face.
A short while later, her eyes flashed gold in the dark.
[Unidentified personnel approaching!]
At the same instant as her transmission, Tang Baek’s sleeve snapped. Three pitch-black throwing daggers became streaks of light and drove precisely toward the point Jeong-a’s gaze had marked.
“Oops.”
Or rather—they seemed to drive true.
“…My, my. As expected of the First Young Master; even his attendants are no ordinary folk.”
A man’s smooth voice. Yet the presence hidden within it was enough to raise gooseflesh.
The three daggers Tang Baek had launched were held fast by a hand that seemed to emerge from empty air—clad in gloves of strange, gleaming leather.
The instant Tang Baek recognized those gloves, his face changed.
“Guangliang deerskin…?!”
For a man whose expression almost never shifted, the change of color said everything about how extraordinary the gloves’ owner was.
“It has been a long time, Tang Baek.”
As if stepping out from behind a pillar, a middle-aged man revealed himself in midair and smiled toward Tang Baek. His features were gentle, yet somewhere in them lurked a sinister cast.
“How…?”
Confirming the man’s face, Tang Baek frowned as though he could not trust his own eyes.
“Why are you here, sir?”
At the answer, Jeong-a’s expression shifted as well.
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. Is it so strange that I, Tang Gwi-ho—Vice Head of the Sichuan Tang Family—should be in Luoyang?”
In the brief moment Tang Baek was shaken, Jeong-a read the thoughts that rose to the surface of his mind.
Vice Head Tang Gwi-ho. Leader of the Shadow Unit, the intelligence corps that answers directly to the head of the Sichuan Tang Family.
Jeong-a murmured inwardly, A man who must never be trusted.
This uninvited guest was not an enemy—yet neither was he an ally.