Dawn of the Battlefield
On the road linking the imperial capital and Luoyang.
Along the highway that bound the administrative heart of the Central Plains to the economic heart of the northern lands, something unusual was underway. Carriages had halted their runs and drawn aside to left and right.
The caravan masters who, on any ordinary day, would have cursed until their mouths ran dry; the highborn who would have picked a quarrel simply to flaunt their rank; the martial artists who would have gone straight for the hilts of their weapons—every last one of them kept silent.
"Hyah!"
Over the road, where a silence lay as heavy as the darkness before dawn, horsemen rode in the van.
"Hyah!"
The men urging their armored warhorses forward wore gear that was, at a glance, anything but ordinary. For all that they made a considerable spectacle, not a soul among those who had drawn aside met their eyes.
The banners hanging from their backs spoke the reason for them.
Luoyang Sword Family.
Once the mounted warriors had thundered past, a procession of several dozen armored carriages—built to the Sword Family's own special design—came into view behind them. And in the middle of that escort of armored carriages, front and rear, rolled a six-horse carriage of far greater bulk than any of the rest.
Kak-kak-kak-kak—!
The steel wheels of the black six-horse carriage scraped the paving stones and threw up a spray of sparks.
A contrivance fashioned in imitation of the Ironclad Fortress the Family Head had once built for the Fairy Yak: the Second Young Master's black iron fortress carriage.
Inside the black iron fortress carriage.
Krrk.
As if to give voice to its master's foul temper, the armor encasing the Second Young Master's fire-scarred hand ground out a metallic rasp.
The emotion radiating from Yeon Ja-cheong as he stared through the window-shade at the darkened landscape was unmistakable: raw impatience.
Contact with the Luoyang Sword Family's Intelligence Bureau—which had been cooperating so obligingly—had gone dead. For the Second Young Master and his staff of advisers, who had been receiving every scrap of news from Luoyang through that channel, the frustration only grew.
"…It may simply be an ordinary delay. Isn't that the sort of thing that happens more often than one would expect with the Intelligence Bureau?"
"True enough."
The Second Young Master's advisers watched his face and scrambled for something useful to say.
"But isn't it strange that no one—not a single soul—from the Intelligence Bureau has made contact with us at all?"
"…Then perhaps their collaborators have all switched sides?"
The advisers' brows drew tight.
"Not one or two of them—the entire lot, all at once?"
"If our situation in Luoyang has turned against us, that possibility is—"
Krrk.
At the spine-crawling sound from the Second Young Master's hand, the adviser who had been about to say something unforgivable snapped his mouth shut.
An uneasy silence settled over the carriage once more.
Luoyang Sword Family. A certain safehouse of the Intelligence Bureau.
…Where did it all go wrong?
A dark room without a single oil lamp. Empty wine bottles rolled across the floor; the sealed chamber was thick with tobacco smoke.
A middle-aged man sat at a desk with his head clutched in both hands.
If everyone moved together, we could blind the eyes and ears of the Supreme Operations Committee.
He was the Director of the Third Bureau of the Luoyang Sword Family's Intelligence Department.
In the chaos that broke out across the city, I was certain we could stall their decisions and their intervention as long as possible…!
The Supreme Operations Committee, whose members could never reveal their identities to the outside world, carried a grave structural flaw for that very reason. The Agency had fallen out of the plan, true—but they still had the Yeon bloodline and the elders. With that, he had judged success all but assured.
Was it arrogance…?
He thought back over everything he and his people had done until now.
It had begun with the omission of a single scrap of the most trivial intelligence. The Supreme Operations Committee never noticed. So next they withheld something larger. Those inside and outside the Sword Family who wanted to slip the Committee's surveillance were legion, and the price of deliberate omissions came back as handsome sums of gold.
…We grew complacent.
Nothing had gone wrong for so long that they had assumed this time would be no different.
This time, it was different.
"…Director Lee."
Outside, his aide knocked softly and reported.
"The Central Investigation Department is asking for you, Director."
The Director did not answer, and his aide, knowing better than to wait for one, withdrew as he was.
"…Damn it."
In the dark, the Director glared at the door. He prayed it would not open. He prayed that time itself would freeze in this very moment.
Creeeak.
But against every wish of his, the door opened with absurd ease.
"Director Lee."
Backlit by the light of the corridor, a reaper with white hair and pale eyes stepped into view.
"By order of the Supreme Operations Committee."
Dokgo Ya-yeon, Master of the Central Investigation Department, held up a document and delivered the notice unilaterally, her face without expression.
"As of this moment, all of your authority is suspended. Your person is hereby taken into custody by the Central Investigation Department."
The Director lifted his wine cup without a word. The cup was already empty. He tipped the bottle; the bottle was empty too.
Crash.
The bottle he hurled shattered against the floor—but Dokgo Ya-yeon did not so much as twitch an eyebrow.
"…I'm not the first, am I?"
His eyes turned on her. The blood spattered across her clothes and face stood out all the more starkly against that trademark blank expression.
"…From the beginning. Was it all the Young Lord's trap? Aimed at us?"
Only now did he see it. The method—casting bait like a fisherman and hauling up everything that had been hiding beneath the surface—was far too similar to "that day," which he had known only from the records.
"…The Blood Purge."
A hollow laugh slipped from his lips.
"So in the end, just as the old rumors had it—that great purge was the Young Lord's work."
"It may have been."
At the mention of the Young Lord, Dokgo Ya-yeon's mouth finally opened.
"But one thing is certain."
Looking down at the man seated at the desk, her eyes held a clear light of contempt.
"Whatever the Young Lord's intent may have been—it makes no difference. The end you have come to is the one you chose yourselves."
The end he had chosen. With a dazed face, the Director looked up at her, then let his head fall.
Inside the racing black iron fortress carriage.
"…My lord."
From among the advisers who had been watching for a cue, one hesitated, then spoke.
"…If you wish to know the state of the fighting in Luoyang—what if we asked him?"
Speaking in the Second Young Master's place, another adviser asked,
"…Him?"
The first adviser pointed behind them with a look of distaste.
"The one we loaded into the armored carriage at the rear. The strategist of the Gangnam Division—the one wearing Han Myeong-hwi's skin…"
"Ah."
Geum-jil.
No one spoke the name aloud, but everyone understood whom he meant.
"If it's him, wouldn't he be tracking the situation in Luoyang in real time?"
They could not grasp the principle—but if it was Geum-jil, who somehow manipulated corpse puppets from afar, then surely he would be watching Luoyang as well.
"…Very well."
After a moment's thought, the Second Young Master's leave was given.
The mounted warrior who had ridden back to the armored carriage returned with the look of a man who had seen something wrong, and made his report.
"That is…"
He hesitated, then forced the words out.
"…You will need to see it for yourself, my lord."
One of the Second Young Master's advisers thumped his own chest in exasperation.
"What is it, then?!"
"…Well."
The mounted warrior answered as if he did not know how to put it into words.
"…It seems the guest is dead."
The adviser who had struck his chest spoke as if the man had taken leave of his senses.
"That creature was already a corpse reeking of rot to begin with!"
"No—that's not what I mean—"
The mounted warrior's pupils were darting wildly.
"I looked through the window. He isn't moving at all. He doesn't answer when called. He was already dead, yes—but now he seems… completely dead."
At those words, beneath the gold mask, Yeon Ja-cheong's face twisted.
"Halt the column."
Screeeech—.
Sparks flew from the carriages' brakes.
With Yeon Ja-cheong and all the rest looking on, a warrior opened the door of the armored carriage.
"Kh…!"
A warrior who had seen every kind of battlefield staggered back on pure reflex. Together with the drone of a swarm of flies, a horrific stench poured out through the open door.
"Raise the shade."
At Yeon Ja-cheong's command, the warrior grimaced and pulled the shade aside.
"…Ugh."
The Second Young Master's advisers turned their heads away. Even the mere glimpse of the carriage's interior was ghastly.
"Stand aside."
From among those who hesitated, the Second Young Master seized a lantern and approached the carriage himself. Looking inside, his face contorted beneath the gold mask.
Han Myeong-hwi's body lay smashed to pieces, rotting and collapsing in on itself in a ruin of flesh, and maggots seethed over what remained. Like a puppet whose strings had been dropped and shattered on the floor—it was the sight of every thread that had been forcing Han Myeong-hwi's corpse together all coming undone at once.
"If the one he was controlling has ended up like this…"
What did it mean that Geum-jil, who had sworn to hold back Amcheonjonza, had been reduced to this?
Pinching their noses and scowling, the advisers had no difficulty piecing the situation together.
"…He failed."
And if that was so—what was the state of Luoyang now?
Grit.
The sound of teeth grinding slipped from between the Second Young Master's jaws.
At that same hour, in Luoyang.
Near the Valley of Sin, on the topmost floor of a lavish pavilion.
The Second Young Master's mother, Dowager Madam Ouyang, had been chewing her nails in a fit of nerves until one of them finally broke. It was not only the tip—she had torn it down to the root. A thin thread of blood ran over her carefully powdered hand.
"Geum-jil…!"
Grit—and in the same manner as her son, she ground her teeth and surged to her feet.
"Is there still no word from that creature?!"
In the upper reaches of the Valley of Sin, the Young Lord's camp had seemed briefly thrown into disarray, then recovered its composure. After that, there had been nothing but a few light tremors in the earth, as if a minor quake had passed.
That was all. That was the end of it.
"Geum-jil—that insolent wretch, swaggering as if he could do anything…!"
At her voice, nearly tearing, her subordinates and the heads of the Sixfold Council shrank back and averted their eyes.
"As things stand, I will wait no longer…!"
Too much time had already been lost. It was reaching the point where the Supreme Operations Committee could intervene at any moment without anyone finding it strange.
Murderous light flared from her eyes, raw and red.
"Order every force waiting downstream to advance!"
At her ringing command, the underworld chiefs looked uneasy.
"Th-that is—"
"What of the poison spread through the middle reaches?"
"Poison?"
Dowager Madam Ouyang rounded on the man who had mentioned it, her voice sharp as a blade.
"You idiot—still fretting over poison?! If that poison had still been sitting there, by now it would have swept the lower valley and turned the streets of Luoyang into hell!"
Her reasoning was sound enough—but the heads of the Sixfold Council did not look convinced. The talk of poison had been an excuse from the start. Now that the situation had turned against them, they wanted nothing more than to pull their feet free while they still could.
"You lot…!"
Seeing through them, Dowager Madam Ouyang's eyes narrowed, and a shout was just about to break from her lips when—
"Th-that—?!"
A commotion erupted on the roof of the pavilion, where her warriors stood watch.
"My lady…! East! To the east!"
At the urgent cry from the rooftop, one of the underworld chiefs rushed to fling open the eastern window.
"…!"
Dowager Madam Ouyang and every person present could see it.
Beyond the main road, against the backdrop of the sun rising in the east, a fully armed legion of warriors was advancing.
The characters embroidered on the war banners they carried—each a different color—stood out sharp and clear in the light of the rising sun.
An underworld chief who had leaned so far out the window that he nearly fell read them in a trembling voice.
"…Luoyang Sword Family. War Department."
His shaking gaze moved to the next banner.
"Sword Peak Mountain Breaker…!"
Yeom Gwak-chu, the Sword Peak Mountain Breaker.
What did it mean that Elder Yeom—the foremost martial of the Luoyang Sword Family, of the War Department itself—had taken the field in person at the head of his forces?
"…It's over."
Someone muttered the words, and they scattered hollowly on the dawn wind.