Power and Persuasion
Near the border of Henan Province.
An old man stood on high ground, gazing far off toward Luoyang.
Even in the dead of night, the heavy black clouds hanging over the distant city stood out with stark clarity. Lightning flared from time to time, and the low roll of thunder reached even here.
A downpour, is it. If they don't open the upstream levees, it could turn dangerous.
But the old man cut the thought short. He was no longer the Magistrate of Luoyang. Dealing with whatever came was the business of those who still lived in the city.
"Elder."
At the word of a guard on watch, the former Magistrate of Luoyang turned.
"A group is approaching from the southeast."
Shock.
"A-Amcheonjonza…"
Every gaze in the gathering clung to Yeon So-hyeon and would not let go.
"And the First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Family…?"
All eyes moved back and forth between the mask in Yeon So-hyeon's hand and his face.
Amcheonjonza had appeared here? And that Amcheonjonza was the First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Family? The same Luoyang Sword Family that, until moments ago—and even now—was trying to kill them? And that family's First Young Master had shown himself before them… as Amcheonjonza?
"…Wh-what in the world?"
Even those who were ordinarily called clever by their peers could not make sense of what was happening. One man stood so blankly that he never noticed the rice gruel spilling from the bowl in his hands and splattering across the ground.
"…Wh-what? What the hell is going on?"
Someone reacted differently amid the confusion.
"F-First Young Master! Your humble servant greets you…!"
The martial artist who had once been a warrior of the Luoyang Sword Family dropped to one knee before Yeon So-hyeon, hands clasped in salute. Yeon So-hyeon accepted the greeting with quiet composure and motioned for him to rise.
"You know me?"
"O-of course, my lord."
Yet the man still could not straighten his legs.
"I once served in the family's escort pavilion. I remember the faces of every young master and young lady."
Hearing that exchange, the leader of the poor laborers dropped to his knees at once.
"…I greet the First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Family."
One by one, the others recovered their wits and knelt as well.
"We greet the First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Family."
Like a spreading wave, every person present went down on one knee.
"…You have my thanks. But I would be grateful if you would rise."
Yeon So-hyeon's manner as he received their respects with both hands clasped was courteous. More than at any other moment, sincerity ran through every line of that bearing.
"When valorous martial artists and gallants of such unmatched courage and pride conduct themselves so, this one finds it rather burdensome."
The courtesy that flowed from his speech and bearing was flawless, and a restrained dignity shone through it. Not a soul present dared doubt that the man before them was truly the First Young Master, Yeon So-hyeon himself.
"Th-then, as you say…"
When the martial artist of warrior origin rose, the others took their cue and carefully straightened as well.
But not everyone stood.
"Why do you remain kneeling?"
At Yeon So-hyeon's question, every gaze turned to the man who had not risen.
"I-I…"
It was the leader of the poor laborers. Shame flushed his sun-darkened face as he hung his head.
"I'm just a common hand who hauled bricks, my lord."
The First Young Master had asked the martial artists and gallants to rise.
"…I'm no gallant and no martial artist—just lowborn trash."
"Ah…"
Yeon So-hyeon gave a wry smile, shook his head, and walked toward him. The martial artists dared not bar his path; they parted to either side.
"…I once discussed the meaning of chivalry with a young man of a renowned house."
Recalling the words he had spoken only two evenings past to Kong Dam-ung, heir of the Gong family, Yeon So-hyeon stopped before the gaunt laborer and continued in a level voice.
"True chivalrous conduct has its origin in self-redress—in the will to free oneself from injustice—and it is born of compassion that will not turn away from those who suffer the same fate. By that measure…"
As the First Young Master approached and took the leader's hand himself to raise him, every person present held their breath.
"You, and all of you—each one of you rose for the sake of the many without even sparing thought for your own lives. You are already true martial artists and true gallants."
Yeon So-hyeon looked around the circle and asked,
"Is there any distinguished martial artist here who would deny those words?"
Every martial artist shook his head.
"How could we, my lord?"
The former Sword Family warrior spoke first.
"On the contrary—though they lack the internal qi and martial skill we possess, they still stood against injustice…"
Another martial artist took up the thread.
"I would say their chivalry and courage far surpass our own."
Agreement rose on every side.
"Aye, that's right. No question."
"Stepping forward for everyone when you have no power yourself—that's the hardest thing of all, isn't it?"
As such words poured out, the First Young Master turned back to the leader.
"Did you hear that?"
Without waiting for an answer, Yeon So-hyeon clapped the man on the shoulder.
"Everyone here acknowledges what you have done. So hold your heads high."
"…Th-thank you, my lord."
The voice was thick and rough. In all his life, had he ever received such recognition from someone so high?
"I will remember those words for the rest of my days."
During the northern war, he had earned meritorious service worthy of a medal, only to have that credit stolen by a superior—and had been forced to stand and watch while that superior received praise from the general. That he, of all people, would dare raise something little short of rebellion, and then receive such commendation from the First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Family… who could have imagined it?
As everyone looked on with reddened eyes, the former Sword Family warrior spoke again.
"First Young Master."
He chose his words with care.
"I heard that Your Lordship had taken an interest in Luoyang's Spring."
There had indeed been such a conversation. Martial artists of Luoyang's Spring, the memory stirring, could not help letting out low gasps of wonder.
"Could it be…?!"
"Has the First Young Master come to aid us?"
Every gaze fixed on Yeon So-hyeon, bright with yearning hope. Had he been only the First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Family, some would have doubted his true intent. But now that he had been revealed as Amcheonjonza, none dared question what lay in his heart. And he had even named the laborers who had risen in revolt as true martial artists and gallants. That they should harbor such hope was only natural.
"Of course."
Yeon So-hyeon's answer cut sharp as a blade, and faces around him lit up.
"I came all this way myself with exactly that intention."
Most showed their joy openly—but not all.
"…First Young Master."
The martial artist of Sword Family origin was among the few who did not.
"Forgive me, but I know full well that our present situation is far from simple."
Given his origins, he knew what standing the First Young Master held within the Luoyang Sword Family. Those who had been about to cheer fell silent one by one.
"Though I am grateful beyond words that you have come this far and understood our cause…"
Those who grasped his meaning hardened their expressions and fixed their attention on the exchange.
"We attacked the Sword Family, threatened its enterprises, and dared raise a revolt. With the government troops involved as well, we are little better than rebels. For people like us…"
As his comrade trailed off, struggling for the right words, the martial artist in charge of the explosives spoke in his place.
"Even for the First Young Master of that very Sword Family, breaking this situation seems impossible."
A silence settled over them, heavier for the brief brightness of hope that had come before. Everyone present had heard at least once of the notoriety of the Swordless One. Isolated as they were, they would have had no information about the deeds Yeon So-hyeon had performed of late—and honestly, even if they had known, they would have felt little more than a faint, unrealistic hope.
"We have already stained our hands with too much blood," the leader said, accepting reality with quiet composure. "Even if Your Lordship is Amcheonjonza, we cannot ask you to assault the encirclement merely to save some portion of us."
They were locked in confrontation with Sword Family warriors and government troops for reasons they could not help—
"…There will be innocents among them. So."
One by one, heads dropped toward the ground.
"So if, afterward, Your Lordship would submit a petition for at least those among us whose hands are not stained with blood—"
"Indeed."
Yeon So-hyeon's voice cut across the leader's words.
"The authority of First Young Master Yeon So-hyeon alone would fall short of such a task."
At that, a few even looked at him with resentment in their eyes. Then why raise their hopes by speaking as if he had come to save them, only to make their plight cut all the deeper?
"But."
Yeon So-hyeon met each gaze fixed upon him in turn, a faint smile on his lips.
"The true strength of power—of authority—sometimes arises from a different kind of power: the power of persuasion. The ability to counsel those of even greater might until they understand… and move."
"Have you confirmed the signal?"
At the former Magistrate of Luoyang's question, the guard nodded.
"The signal is exact, Elder. Precisely the one you told us of in advance."
Far off, the approaching figures covered and uncovered their lanterns, flashing the signal back and forth.
"…So it is."
Having verified the signal himself, the old man clapped the guard on the shoulder.
"Send the reply—tell them they may approach."
"Yes, Elder."
The guard worked the lantern he held and sent the answering signal.
Watching that blinking light, the former Magistrate of Luoyang thought back to the night before last—or rather, since midnight had already passed, the night before that.
It had been much like this. Around the hour when the oil in the lamp was nearly spent and the light flickered irregularly, they had summoned him without warning to a secret place.
No—he had been told in advance by the Gong family to stand ready no matter what. So it had not been entirely without notice.
"Well then. You've kept us waiting this long—I trust you've made up your mind?"
"Keeping us frail old men standing about while you dither—is that not a bit much?"
At the old men's words, the Magistrate of Luoyang ground his teeth inwardly.
I'm the one who's been standing this whole time!
As he thought, the old men were seated, and he alone had remained on his feet. That he dared not voice the complaint aloud was because—
"That fellow just cursed us with his eyes, did he not?"
"Hmm. He needs to lose an eyeball in his sleep before he'll come to his senses."
"Wearing every thought so plainly on his face—how did a creature like that ever rise to the magistrate's seat? Tsk, tsk."
—because the ones sitting there clicking their tongues at him were none other than the infamous old demons of Mount Beimang.
"Listen here, boy."
At the call of the old demon who had come at the First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Family's request, the Magistrate of Luoyang immediately bowed his head.
"Yes, Elder."
"Finding the calculation difficult?"
"No, it is not that… Only that you ask me to make so grave a decision so suddenly—"
"Tsk, tsk."
At the fresh sound of a tongue clicking, the Magistrate wiped cold sweat and shut his mouth.
"For the sake of a dullard like you, we will kindly do the arithmetic ourselves."
So spoke the old demon Gongsun Na-gang.
"You will have heard that the First Young Master of the Sword Family visited Mount Beimang today."
Another old demon took up the thread.
"And you will understand just how large the affair is about to become."
"Which means you will naturally grasp what a catastrophe that will be for the final stretch of your official career before retirement."
Even setting everything else aside—simply seeing these notorious old demons crawl down from Mount Beimang and roam about in a pack was enough.
…Horrifying.
What ill omen could this possibly foreshadow? The peaceful post of Magistrate of Luoyang, envied by all, had in an instant become a carriage bound straight for hell.
"So just shut your eyes and stamp the magistrate's seal here."
One of the old demons tapped the document lying on the table.
"Look carefully."
It was a document he had already read through several times. There was no need to look again.
"…If I stamp that seal, my post as magistrate is finished—and so is my life."
To set his seal on a document that ran counter to the decisions of the Luoyang Sword Family meant exactly that.
"Aigoo. Look at this fool…"
The old demons thumped their chests in frustration.
"To those bleary eyes of yours, this paper may look like your own death warrant."
"Look carefully, I said."
"This is the only path by which you survive."
He knew their words were true.
Sweating freely, the Magistrate of Luoyang wrestled with himself—then opened his eyes.
"…Even if you elders are the former heads of the Sixteen Imperial Capital Families."
He swallowed dryly and pressed on.
"Yunnan Province is a place even imperial authority does not reach."
"True enough."
"The magistrate of Yunnan is, in practice, chosen by the Dali Duan Family. And you claim you can guarantee me that post?"
"We are not the ones guaranteeing it."
"Pardon?"
The old demon who had once attended the Emperor closer than any other—Gongsun Na-gang—twisted his wrinkled face into a smile.
"The ones guaranteeing the post are the Dali Duan Family."
"Elder."
Startled out of the memory, the former Magistrate of Luoyang snapped back to the present.
"They will soon be visible to the naked eye. Please confirm whether they are the ones we expect."
As the guard said, the figures drawing near were revealed beneath the moonlight. One among them, walking at the very front, caught the eye at once.
He wore what appeared to be the hide of a spirit beast draped over one shoulder, and his blue eyes shone with a light as clear and vivid as a night-luminous pearl.
"…They are the ones."
Those eyes belonged unmistakably to the Dali Duan Family—the clan that ruled Yunnan Province.
"Are you the man named in the letter? The former Magistrate of Luoyang?"
"I am. That is precisely who I am."
The former Magistrate nodded with fierce vigor.
"I stamped every seal you asked for! The documents have all been processed! I have done everything you required of me!"
He nearly shouted the words.
"If I do not make regular contact, those documents will become worthless after the fact!"
At that, the man who was clearly of the Dali Duan Family's direct bloodline tilted his head.
"Seals? Documents?"
He spoke to the former Magistrate.
"I know nothing of such things. Nor does it matter."
"I-it doesn't matter?"
Then why in the world had he been told that processing those cursed documents would earn him the magistrate's post in Yunnan?
"That's right. It doesn't matter."
The man bared his teeth in a smile under the moonlight.
"We of the Dali Duan Family are merely paying a rightful price to the First Young Master of the Sword Family."
"Th-the First Young Master? A rightful price…?"
The man of the Dali Duan Family offered no further explanation.
(This one seems to know nothing of the 'transaction' with the Young Master.)
One of the warriors spoke in a tribal tongue—the language of one of the many peoples that made up the south of Yunnan.
(Can we really seat a man like this as magistrate?)
The man turned away.
(It does not matter.)
He spoke to his subordinate while gauging the distant direction of Yunnan.
(Thanks to the Young Master, we secured rights to the urban development projects in Chongqing, and we can take part in the Yangtze waterway expansion as well.)
They had even reclaimed half the land in Chongqing that the Emei Sect had been ready to swallow whole.
(A magistrate's post that is little more than an honorary title is nothing at all.)
(…As you say.)
(If anything, this alone falls short of the price we owe him.)
As descendants of the Dali royal house, they kept a clear account of what was owed in any transaction.
The man turned back and smiled at the former Magistrate of Luoyang. Understanding none of the exchange, all the old man could do was force a matching smile onto his own face.
"Heh… heh heh."
Looking at that foolish grin, the man asked his subordinate,
(The residence prepared for him is finished, I trust?)
(Yes. By the family head's order, following the Young Master's demand, the slaves were set to build it 'in the deepest heart of the jungle.')
Satisfied with the answer, the man recalled the contents of the letter that had also carried the Young Master's requirements.
(…Exactly as the Young Master foresaw. That man, who knows nothing of honor, has abandoned even his own family and come alone.)
At those words, the warrior rubbed the nape of his neck where gooseflesh had risen unbidden.
(…How did he predict all of this and send word through the prince months in advance?)
(Could it be as the Great Prophet said—that this Young Master truly has eyes that see the future?)
(Clairvoyance…)
As the warriors began to murmur among themselves, the man laughed heartily.
(They say a man fit to be a true king does not merely foresee the future—he is one who can shape the future he desires.)
He gazed toward distant Luoyang as he spoke.
(I wonder which of the two that Young Master truly is.)