Valley of Sin
The Valley of Sin.
Darkness had settled thick over the gorge. Campfires burned in scattered clusters, and armed men sat ringed around them—Yeon So-hyeon's forces.
"…Therefore, in a situation such as today's, a field commander must not fixate solely on cutting down the enemy before him—on battle results alone. That is the conclusion."
A man in full armor stood before a fire, conducting both a lecture and a post-action review of the day's fighting.
"Assessing the state of the line, preserving formation, distinguishing primary objectives from secondary ones—a commander must hold all of this in mind…"
The one delivering a lecture of startling quality was, of course, the martial commander of the war advisory staff. Not only the mid-level officers of the House of Mercy but even the junior commanders among the government troops who had remained for cleanup sat rapt, listening as if spellbound.
"Today's breakthrough was excellent. After the initial breach, however, coordination with allied units was insufficient."
Elsewhere, the Wongak Pavilion maids sat attentive as an old woman spoke. The old woman—Gwak Nopin, the Sleeping Dragon of the South—had spent a lifetime at war. From her lips came lessons that cut to the bone, endless and invaluable.
"…As for measures concerning a wounded comrade…"
Across the valley, down to the lowest-ranking soldier, the lectures continued.
From his office, someone watched the scene in silence through the window.
Yeon So-hyeon.
As always, those eyes—deep as an abyss—gave no hint of what thoughts drifted within them.
"Dae-gongja."
A gravelly voice rose behind him.
"Just what sort of trick did you pull to make the Supreme Operations Committee attempt a judicial bargain with Dowager Madam Ouyang?"
The owner of that rough voice struck his prosthetic leg against the floor.
"I know better than most how heavy those bastards' asses are."
Few in the Luoyang Sword Family would dare call the Supreme Operations Committee "those bastards"—but few was not none. The chief of Sword Family Construction was one of that rare handful.
"The mere pretext of aiding the Emperor would never have been enough to make them move exactly as you wished."
He was thoroughly intrigued. As a man who often had to face the Supreme Operations Committee himself, he wanted Yeon So-hyeon's method, whatever it was, for his own arsenal.
"Any word of Nae-won-chong-gwan?"
Yeon So-hyeon answered with a question of his own.
"Well, nothing on Nae-won-chong-gwan himself. But judging by the mood in the Inner Court, it won't be far from what you predicted."
The chief of Sword Family Construction smacked his lips, yet answered readily enough.
"We finally pull off a successful raid on the Dae-seon-sang-hoe, and you skim off the tastiest cut."
The "tastiest cut," of course, meant Dowager Madam Ouyang.
"Wouldn't surprise me if Nae-won-chong-gwan has a straw doll of you nailed to his wall right now."
He threw back his head and laughed. For more than a decade, the old monster of the Sword Family—Nae-won-chong-gwan—had never once been bested in a political contest. Even when he seemed cornered, victory had always been his in the end. Yet after the book-price affair, and now this—twice in a row, the Chief Administrator of the Inner Court had been thrashed by the First Young Master alone.
"That old man has been off ever since the Family Head collapsed," the chief said, with no small satisfaction. "I hope this finally knocks some sense into him. But…"
He lifted his prosthetic and slammed it against the floor twice more.
"Enough stalling. Explain yourself, Dae-gongja!"
Yeon So-hyeon gave a short, dry laugh and turned to face him.
"Have you heard of His Majesty the Emperor's Yangtze waterway expansion and maintenance project?"
"Mm. Not in full detail."
The chief of Sword Family Construction stroked his scarred jaw.
"The upper-reach works already have agreement from the Sichuan Tang Family and the Dali Duan Family. And to 'persuade' Sapaecheon on the lower reaches, they meant to strike a judicial bargain with Dowager Madam Ouyang. That much?"
"Oh?"
By his own admission he did not know the particulars—yet he had grasped events that had only just begun to surface with accuracy enough to startle even Yeon So-hyeon. As expected of the chief of Sword Family Construction. Separate from the family's intelligence organs, the man clearly maintained a private network of his own.
Yeon So-hyeon nodded and continued.
"Once negotiations with Sapaecheon are complete, the expansion and maintenance will begin on the lower reaches as well, will they not?"
"Of course. Only then is the project complete."
The chief nodded with deliberate patience.
"Then who, do you suppose, will carry out the works downstream?"
"Carry out…"
At the harder question, the chief narrowed his eyes and began to reason aloud.
"The Sichuan Tang Family and the Dali Duan Family are out of the question. Sapaecheon will never tolerate those houses—who already eye an ocean-facing port with open hunger—setting foot in their territory."
That the Sichuan Tang Family and the Dali Duan Family coveted an ocean port was common knowledge. They wanted to become what the Luoyang Sword Family and Sapaecheon already were: houses that booked enormous annual surpluses through overseas trade with the Western empires. Expanding and dredging the Yangtze so that foreign-rigged ships could sail all the way upstream served precisely that ambition.
"Then Sapaecheon themselves?"
The chief laughed and waved the suggestion away.
"Don't be absurd. Those Sapaecheon dogs can barely handle a shovel. They haven't the capacity for civil works on that scale. Our Sword Family Construction, maybe—but a pack that can't even raise a proper levee…"
His eyes went wide. The chain of inference had reached its answer.
"…You don't mean—?"
"I do."
Yeon So-hyeon raised a finger and pointed at him.
"The works on the lower Yangtze will be handled by the Luoyang Sword Family—that is, by Sword Family Construction."
"So that's—!"
Yeon So-hyeon inclined his head.
"That is why the Supreme Operations Committee finally moved those 'heavy asses' of theirs and proposed a judicial bargain to Dowager Madam Ouyang."
"Because a civil-engineering contract of that scale would fall to the Sword Family!"
"Exactly."
"And to our Sword Family Construction!"
"Exactly."
Yeon So-hyeon regarded him sidelong.
"The lower Yangtze—Gangnam—is Sapaecheon's domain. Throughout the project there will be friction with them every single day. Without considerable nerve and force, one could not even begin."
A provocative smile touched the corner of his mouth as he looked at the chief of Sword Family Construction.
"Do you have the confidence?"
"Do I have the confidence, you ask?"
The chief of Sword Family Construction burst into roaring laughter.
"If not this man beneath heaven, who dares speak of nerve?"
He slapped the thick muscle of his arm and bared his teeth.
"My thanks! Thanks to you, Dae-gongja, I can finally ease the regret of missing the Family Head's Gangnam campaign all those years ago!"
He laughed again, then surged to his feet.
"No time to linger—I must go draft the preliminary plans at once!"
"Go, then."
Yeon So-hyeon dismissed the chief of Sword Family Construction with a glance and turned once more to the night beyond the window.
"…One more thing, Dae-gongja."
Hand on the door latch, the chief glanced back.
"Why have you still not let the troops rest?"
It was the question that had sat uneasily in him from the start. He could not see the expression of the man whose back was turned.
Once again, Yeon So-hyeon answered a question with a question.
"Has Dowager Madam Ouyang accepted the Supreme Operations Committee's judicial bargain?"
"No formal movement yet," the chief said with a shrug. "But I hear she is reviewing the proposal favorably enough."
"Which means nothing has properly advanced."
Yeon So-hyeon's voice dropped low.
"…And at the same time, it means the matter is not finished."
"…So it is."
Something in his tone was chilling. The clouds filling the night sky beyond the window seemed unnaturally dark—and that was not only the chief's imagination.
"Fortune favor you, Dae-gongja."
As he opened the door and stepped out, the chief of Sword Family Construction thought, …So the war clouds have yet to clear.
The Imperial Capital.
The assembly of the current heads of the Sixteen Families had recessed for a time—shaken by the news the Second Young Master had received from Luoyang.
"Under no circumstances must the Dowager Madam accept a judicial bargain!"
"That would be as good as admitting our side has lost this war!"
The Second Young Master's staff were locked in heated argument.
"Then what do you propose we do?!"
"Will you go yourselves and urge the Dowager Madam to submit to imprisonment?!"
"Th-that is…!"
They had been thrashing out strategy for a long while, yet no sharp answer had appeared. What had begun as deliberation had long since degenerated into a wasteful war of words.
Leaving the chaos of his staff behind him, the Second Young Master stood with his hands clasped at his back, gazing out the window through his golden mask.
Creak.
The black armor encasing his left hand produced an ugly sound of protest—but tonight, unlike usual, the noise was swallowed by the raised voices of his advisors.
Yeon So-hyeon…
He mouthed the name of his half-brother, syllable by syllable, as if chewing and spitting each one.
I never once underestimated that bastard.
The moment Yeon So-hyeon made his first official move by visiting Mount Beimang, he himself had come here, to the Imperial Capital. When Yeon So-hyeon gathered the former heads of the Sixteen Families, he had at once gathered the current heads. When his opponent stirred within the Imperial Palace, he had assembled the present patriarchs and begun his counter. Move for move—he had believed they were trading pieces across a board of chess.
Only to discover that the man called Yeon So-hyeon had, all the while, been playing dozens of moves alone.
I cannot accept defeat like this.
There was a final measure. His mother, Dowager Madam Ouyang, would even now be stalling for time to ready it.
But—
He still lacked the decisive piece that could overturn a board already tilting against him.
Amcheonjonza.
The decisive problem was that unknown existence—the Dark Heaven Venerable. As if he had foreseen that the last measure would be used, Yeon So-hyeon had already, lightly, let slip that Amcheonjonza was connected to him.
The Second Young Master's teeth ground together—and then:
"Second Young Master—are you within?"
The door opened, and an uproar rose.
"Who the hell are you?!"
"Entering without leave—!"
"What are the guards outside doing?!"
The answering voice was grotesque—as if two people spoke at once.
"The guards seemed tired. They had fallen asleep."
"W-wait. Aren't you the strategist from our Gangnam Division?"
Turning from the window, the Second Young Master saw the visitor. Skin pale as if every drop of blood had been drained from the body; every visible vein twisted and stained a livid blue. One of the advisors pointed at that face, dredging up a memory.
"You're Han Myeong-hwi of the Gangnam Division, aren't you?"
Another staff member who knew the name recalled it as well.
"Han Myeong-hwi? The chief strategist who went missing a few days ago?"
The answer came not from Han Myeong-hwi, but from their lord.
"Everyone leave."
The Second Young Master remembered that layered, uncanny voice.
"What? But, my lord—!"
"At once."
As his staff filed out, the man called Han Myeong-hwi laughed in a high, choking giggle.
"Do take your time leaving."
Even the smile was wrong. The man who wore Han Myeong-hwi's face could not hold still; his limbs twitched and warped in small seizures, and with each spasm came the wet grind of bone and muscle twisting. The giggle did not sound like laughter so much as a scream.
"It has been some time, Second Young Master of the Sword Family."
The Second Young Master knew that face. Han Myeong-hwi—just as his staff had said, the strategist of the Gangnam Division who had vanished from the streets of Luoyang days before. The same Han Myeong-hwi who, during the Inner Court book-price affair, had correctly predicted Yeon So-hyeon's movements and earned merit for it.
"It has been some time."
But the Second Young Master called him by another name.
"Geum-jil."
Geum-jil, wearing Han Myeong-hwi's skin like a mask, spread a wide smile.
"Troubled by that Amcheonjonza, are you?"
Through Han Myeong-hwi's vocal cords, Geum-jil spoke.
"I have brought you the answer."