Wind Blowing Through the Valley
The Valley of Sin.
Joint Operations Headquarters of the First and Fourth Young Masters.
The corridor outside the Fourth Young Master's office.
In the early morning, just as dawn was breaking, every clerk and scholar who passed the Fourth Young Master's office wore the same sour look.
Their sidelong glances all landed on the same place: a long, snaking line of people waiting their turn.
Early morning. From the very hour official business began, that many of them had already formed a queue.
"…It's even longer than yesterday."
"…Cowards, the lot of them."
The clerks muttered among themselves, but none dared raise their voices. The status of the people standing in that line was far too high for a mere clerk to speak of casually.
"They came running the moment they heard someone was investing in the Valley of Sin. Tsk, tsk."
"I even see the ones who slipped bribes to the clerk in charge, begging to get their money in a little sooner."
And just as the clerks were saying—the reason those people were lined up to see the Fourth Young Master was not a good one.
The rest lounge at the far end of the corridor.
"Withdrawing their investments…"
A young clerk clicked his tongue as he watched the scene through a small window.
"Honestly, Advisor No—can you even drink your tea in peace at a time like this?"
The man called No-gunsa was none other than the old military advisor who served as Elder Yeom's right hand. For reasons of his own, he was here in the Valley of Sin rather than at the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering construction site with Elder Yeom.
Only after draining the last of his cup did No-gunsa finally open his mouth.
"What are you so worked up about?"
With his wrinkled hands he calmly stacked his empty teacup and spoke in a leisurely tone.
"The situation grows more unstable by the day. Is it not only natural that investors would want their money back?"
"More unstable?"
The young clerk frowned.
"On the contrary—the First Young Master's reputation is skyrocketing across all of Luoyang right now. Shouldn't people be investing more?"
No-gunsa chuckled, a thin whistle of air slipping through the gaps in his missing teeth.
"And the reason that reputation is rising so steeply is nothing other than war, is it not?"
"Well, that's true, but…"
The young clerk trailed off.
"What's more," No-gunsa said, watching him as he took out his long pipe and set it between his lips, "the opponents in that war are none other than the Second and Third Young Masters."
"…"
At the mention of the Second and Third Young Masters, the young clerk's mouth clamped shut. Without the First Young Master—by what miracle could the Fourth Young Master have maintained a balance like this?
"A commander's fame, won through a great victory in battle, vanishes like a mirage the moment he loses the war."
Old age had long since clouded the advisor's eyes, yet within that dimness lay a keen light that suited a man of his years.
"You need not dig through the ancient histories. You can find examples of it all around us, can you not?"
The young clerk's face twisted.
"Are you saying the First Young Master will win the battles and lose the war? Just because you are Elder Yeom's man, do you think you can speak so freely?"
"My good man."
Even at words that could easily have been taken as insolent, No-gunsa laughed instead of barking.
"We were not talking about me just now. We were talking about them."
"Ah…"
The old man's fingertips pointed toward the people waiting in the long line, hoping to reclaim their investments.
"How is some ordinary commoner supposed to judge a commander's ability, read the board, and predict the outcome of a war?"
"…You're not wrong, but still."
The clerk's expression was dubious.
"Is it not said that victory and defeat are the common lot of soldiers? Predicting the outcome of a war does not seem to me a matter of whether one is a commoner or not…"
Even the famed generals and enlightened sovereigns whose names blaze through history had, at times, tasted defeat and drained the bitter cup.
"That is true."
"…No. Just a moment ago you were thoroughly mocking those commoners."
At No-gunsa's instant agreement, the young clerk looked as if he could not believe his ears.
"Are you saying that we, too, are no more able to predict the outcome of this war than they are?"
"Of course. Do we look any better than they do?"
No-gunsa smiled faintly.
"The First Young Master himself might be another matter. But the likes of us—what miraculous gift do we possess that would let us know the outcome of a war in advance?"
"Old man."
At that smile, the form of address for No-gunsa dropped a full rank. The young clerk scowled.
"From the start you have been dodging the point and talking in circles."
There was a barb in his voice.
"So what is it you are actually trying to say?"
"That there is no need to think such thoughts at all. That is what I am trying to say."
"…!"
The young clerk's body gave a start. The gaze of No-gunsa, who had been lounging deep in his chair, turned full upon him.
"You and this old man—our situation is different from theirs."
The old man continued in a low voice.
"We are parties to this war."
"…!"
"The course of the war? Predicting victory or defeat?"
The smile at the corners of the old advisor's mouth, still buried deep in his chair, now carried the reek of blood.
"That sort of thing is not for the likes of us to worry about."
Through the gaps in his missing teeth, the old man still showed a pair of sharp canines.
"We are foot soldiers. Think about how to kill even one more enemy soldier right in front of you. Do not sit around in a rest lounge tearing other people down."
His eyes flashed with a chilling light.
"If you cannot keep your focus on what is in front of you…"
The old man lifted a hand mapped with wrinkles and age spots and drew a slow line across his own throat.
"…then regardless of who wins this war, foot soldiers like us can lose our lives at any moment."
"…"
The young clerk had nothing left to say. He could only swallow dryly. Cold sweat had soaked him through without his noticing.
Advisor No. He was an old man who had spent his entire life on the battlefield—a man for whom the title of military advisor fit as perfectly as a second skin.
"What are you still staring at me for?!"
A bellow erupted from the old man's mouth.
"Get back to your duties at once!"
The sheer volume of that shout was almost impossible to reconcile with the soft-spoken old man of a moment before.
"H-hieek—!"
The young clerk scrambled out of the lounge in a flurry.
"The rest of you, stop loitering in the corridor and get back to work!"
"Ahem—right."
"Come on, let's go."
The clerks who had gathered near the lounge to eavesdrop on the conversation inside fled in a hurry as well.
"There. Quiet at last."
Alone in the empty lounge, No-gunsa wore a look of satisfaction. His gaze turned toward the long line of investors.
The outcome of a war, is it…
Just as he had said earlier—even in all his long experience, predicting the outcome of a war, as opposed to the battle immediately at hand, was a task that bordered on the impossible.
That is already beyond the realm of prediction. How is it any different from tossing a coin and calling heads or tails?
Yet even as he thought that with his head, another part of him was hopeful.
If it is the First Young Master…
The First Young Master he had watched until now was a man who inspired just that kind of expectation. Somehow, though his mind could not be certain, his instincts were saying it for him.
That man is the sort who can make the coin land on whichever face he wants, every single toss.
His gaze traveled back along the line of waiting people until it finally reached the entrance to the office. The Fourth Young Master's office.
And that young master in there is no pushover either.
He had no idea how the investors were being handled inside. But for some time now, the faces of those leaving the office after finishing their business had been… strange.
The old man had been carefully reading the expression of every investor who stepped out of that room.
Relief mixed with shrinking fear—and at the same time, frustration and terror…?
Just what was unfolding in there right now?
A thick curiosity settled in the old man's eyes.
The Fourth Young Master's office.
"So you want your investment returned. Is that it?"
A low manner of speaking that did not match his years. At the words of the Fourth Young Master seated in the seat of honor, the investor carefully opened his mouth.
"…Given the present situation, one can hardly help but be cautious."
"Is that so?"
It was hard to believe this was the same Fourth Young Master, Yeon Bi, who usually went about smiling so brightly. An unfamiliar face sat in that chair.
"The name Mugeomza—originally a slur aimed at my eldest brother—is currently taking on a new meaning throughout Luoyang."
"Th-that is so."
The investor pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat beading on his forehead as he answered.
"From 'the Swordless One of the Sword Family'—the First Young Master without a sword—it has come to mean—"
The Fourth Young Master cut him off.
"—a man who can accomplish anything he desires even without a sword. That is the meaning it has taken on."
"…I would never dare question the First Young Master's ability."
"Of course not."
The Fourth Young Master narrowed his eyes and smiled with a mouth that looked nothing like his usual self.
"It is not my eldest brother's ability you fear. You want to pull out because you are afraid of the Second and Third Young Masters."
"…I will not deny it."
This investor did not rise to the Fourth Young Master's deliberately provocative tone.
"No. Your words are exactly right. But you know as well as I do, Fourth Young Master—"
Even as cold sweat ran down him, he did not look away from the Fourth Young Master's gaze.
"—what is happening to those great houses that stood with the Second Young Master and went to war."
"I know. Of course I know."
The Fourth Young Master smiled, cold and thin.
"Half of them have already been smashed to pieces, and the other half are in the process of being smashed."
"Th-that is exactly what I am saying!"
The investor raised his voice.
"Even the Qing clan, which went to war on the First Young Master's side, and the Gong clan—one of the Sixteen Houses—have taken heavy damage!"
He made no effort to hide his fear as he cried out.
"I will not allow my own house to meet that fate!"
The Fourth Young Master's brow furrowed.
"…You think something like that would happen to your house merely because you made an investment?"
"This is the Luoyang Sword Family we are talking about. In Luoyang, what is impossible?"
He pleaded as if appealing to the Fourth Young Master's sense of pity.
"P-please, I beg you! Fourth Young Master. As head of my house, I must protect the safety of my family and retainers…!"
He squeezed his eyes shut, bowed his head, and slammed his forehead against the table.
"Fourth Young Master, I beg you for mercy…!"
Under an ordinary contract, investment capital could be withdrawn as freely as one liked. But this case was different. The other parties were the First and Fourth Young Masters of the Sword Family.
That ought to have done it…
With his head still pressed to the table, the investor smiled inwardly.
"Well, really…"
At the sound of the Fourth Young Master's voice, that inner smile deepened.
"I am terribly sorry myself, but—! Khhk!"
That's right. Genius or whatever they call him, in the end he is still only a child. Appealing to pity was the right—
His thoughts were cut short by the Fourth Young Master's next words.
"You are so terrified of the Second and Third Young Masters—and yet it seems my eldest brother and I do not frighten you nearly as much."
The Fourth Young Master spoke as if sighing.
"How embarrassing this is…"
"Th-that is not what I meant—!"
The investor jerked his head up in a panic. But it was not by his own will.
"If that is not what you meant, then what?"
The Fourth Young Master had seized him by the collar and hauled him up from where he had been bowed over the table.
"…!"
The moment his eyes met the Fourth Young Master's—eyes dyed a deep jade green—the investor's face went ashen.
"If you had truly feared my brother and me, you would never have dreamed of asking for your investment back at a time like this."
There was a sharp, nose-stinging scent mixed into the Fourth Young Master's breath.
"How dare you spout such nonsense…!"
The investor knew full well what that piercing smell and those green-lit eyes meant.
"…A P-Poison Person of the Sichuan Tang Family?!"
He had no leisure to wonder how a collateral-line Fourth Young Master of the Sword Family could display the aspect of a Poison Person—a mark of direct blood of the Sichuan Tang Family.
"Are you a little more afraid now?"
The Fourth Young Master breathed out softly toward him—whoo.
"H-hieeek?!"
It was said that a Poison Person could melt a man down to the bone with nothing more than a breath.
"Y-yes! Yes, I am!"
The terrified investor nodded so hard his head nearly came off.
"Please—just spare my life…!"
Having confirmed the stark terror in the man's eyes, the Fourth Young Master snorted.
"Haaah…!"
The moment the Fourth Young Master released his collar, the investor's legs gave out and he collapsed where he stood.
"I will strike your house's name from the list of investors."
The Fourth Young Master looked down at him with open contempt.
"Th-thank you! Thank yo—!"
"However."
The Fourth Young Master bent at the waist until their eyes met once more.
"I will not be returning your investment."
"…!"
His name would be removed from the investors' list—but the money he had put in would not be given back. In other words: if you want your name off the list, leave the money behind.
"…Th-that is—!"
"From the beginning, what you wanted was to get your name off that list so you would not become a target for the Second and Third Young Masters. Was it not?"
"…"
In the end, the man hung his head.
"…I understand."
"Good."
The Fourth Young Master lifted the ledger and, right before the man's eyes, drew a long black stroke of ink through his house's name.
"With this, the investment never happened."
He added one short remark.
"Get out. Now."
A short while later, his head maid entered the office carrying a fresh cup of tea.
"My lord."
Inside, the Fourth Young Master was alone with the ledger, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
"Haha—look at this, will you?"
He spread the ledger toward her as he spoke.
"Look how much free money just appeared."
The boy smiled with pure, sunny delight.
"And now, even if this Valley of Sin starts turning a profit, we do not have to share any of it with those people!"
Ahem—he squared his shoulders for her to see.
"That is wonderful news!"
The Fourth Young Master's head maid clapped her hands and smiled.
"But I have even better news."
"What is it, what is it?!"
She winked at the Fourth Young Master.
"The Ironclad Fortress carrying the First Young Master has just arrived."
Crash!
"…My goodness."
The door slammed open so hard it rattled on its hinges—and the Fourth Young Master was already halfway down the corridor at a dead run.
"Big brotheeeeer—!"
Catching the startled stares of every investor still waiting in line outside, the head maid could only offer a helpless little smile.