The Tactical Doctrine
In martial clans, there exists a concept known as the tactical doctrine.
Not every family kept one; it was something like an emergency action protocol, established by prestigious martial clans of the Dancheon Clan's caliber. Great martial clans were, after all, houses that had built their legacy through fierce struggle, and so they inevitably found themselves facing crises of every kind. As the old saying goes, nothing serves better than caution — the tactical doctrine was thus something every member of the household, not merely its warriors, was expected to commit to memory.
The tactical doctrine. There was a reason the martial clans' version resembled military terminology at a glance. What the doctrine held paramount was not any individual's martial prowess, but the shared covenant that everyone could rely upon when the unforeseen struck.
The present situation. And so it was only natural that a doctrine existed for when outside enemies invaded the clan.
Recalling those instructions, I moved swiftly. In a great house, even the arrangement of its halls and structures carried meaning, and so in the present circumstances the most significant location under the tactical doctrine was the Dancheon Clan's Grand Training Grounds.
The Grand Training Grounds offered a wide open expanse where every member of the clan could rally smoothly in an emergency, and it sat at the very heart of the Dancheon Sword Clan, close enough that all would arrive at much the same time. Moreover, no tall halls or hiding places had been raised around it, forestalling any invader who might attack from concealment.
In a conventional army, walls and moats might serve as the yardstick of a fortress's strength, but to those trained in the martial arts, such structures could never pose a serious obstacle. In the end, the Grand Training Grounds were the true ground for holding a fortress — a manner of defense somewhat different from the military arts, one belonging to martial forces alone.
With hurried steps, I took my place at the center of the Grand Training Grounds. I steadied my breathing and spread my qi sense. Saaaah— what seeped into the Dancheon Clan like the chill of dawn was unmistakably a sinister killing intent. Like the night before a storm, it would be right to call it a silent alarm heralding the death to come. My first task, then, was to shatter that silence.
KWAAANG! Without hesitation, I stamped my foot down hard, and the sturdy bluestone of the training ground floor burst apart with a thunderous roar.
There were two reasons for this. One was that I knew little time remained before danger arrived. There was no time to go around waking the household one by one, so I had resorted to a somewhat violent method — deep though the night was, no half-wit in the Dancheon Clan could sleep through a roar like this.
The other was to gather the invaders' eyes upon the Grand Training Grounds, for I knew that meeting the enemy here was the best course. By my estimate, the enemy's skill was far from ordinary, so they would surely have sensed my step — and their feet would have no choice but to carry them here. Even if they simply withdrew at the commotion, we would lose nothing. A midnight disturbance was preferable to an invasion, was it not?
The Dancheon Clan was my home, and protecting one's home was the master's duty. And by home I did not mean the halls and buildings, but the people who made up the Dancheon Clan — I would not lightly permit the loss of so much as a single life among them.
"You sensed it too?"
The first to appear was my father, Dancheon Gang.
"No — you must have sensed it before any of us."
Dancheon Gang's bearing was grim and solemn, and a sword already rested in his hand, so I could tell he had sensed the same thing I had. My father's face wore an expression I had never seen in my life. At first it looked like the tension of a man facing grave danger, but I quickly realized it was not that. What rested upon my father was better named the responsibility of a clan head.
"It will be all right. I am here, am I not?"
It was neither confidence nor recklessness. I simply wanted to say those words to my father, here and now. Refusing the seat of Young Patriarch did not mean I intended to hand its weight over to another's shoulders entire.
"...You've grown up."
Fortunately, that embarrassingly tender exchange between father and son ended there.
"What's happening?"
It was because my uncle Bang Yeo-baek had appeared, looking flustered. Perhaps because of the gap between their realms, he did not seem to have felt what my father had sensed.
"Yeo-baek, we must prepare," the clan head said.
"Yes," the captain of the guard replied.
Perhaps it was the fruit of long years spent together — at the clan head's single brief sentence, with no explanation offered, the captain's entire demeanor transformed.
Shing-shing-shing-shak! The next moment, the men of the Dancheon guard corps came pouring onto the Grand Training Grounds, blades in hand. Their momentum was sharp and disciplined — proof enough of how mercilessly Uncle Bang Yeo-baek had drilled them all this while.
"Guard corps! Effective immediately, we enact the tactical doctrine against external invasion."
"Yes, sir!"
Every man answered without a shred of doubt. Dozens had spoken, yet the voices were one — a steadying sight.
"Disperse!"
As though each guardsman had his own assigned sector, they encircled the Grand Training Grounds like a defensive formation locking into place. That even a doctrine meant for emergencies could be carried out this flawlessly — this, I would say, was the true depth of a great house.
"Mother, this way."
"Yes."
And last of all, Dancheon Hak arrived at the Grand Training Grounds together with my mother, Baek Yeo-hae. He should have been there sooner, which puzzled me — but it seemed he had been busy seeing her safely there.
The servants who kept the clan's daily life — the cooks, the gardeners, the sweepers — came stumbling onto the grounds as well, heading for the innermost depths behind the guard corps. In a martial clan's war, women and household members who knew nothing of the martial arts were naturally the first to be protected. Had this been a merchant house like the Yang Family Trading House, the patriarch and his direct line would have been among the protected too — but in a martial clan, the head and his direct blood were not those who were shielded, but those who did the shielding. In other words, we did not hide in the guard's shadow; we took our stand before them.
"What's going on?"
Dancheon Hak, having escorted our mother to safety, came up to me and asked.
"Prepare yourself."
That was all I said, and I added nothing more — for the truth was, I did not know exactly what was happening either.
A short stretch of time flowed past in tension.
Softly.
Some ten masked figures cleared the main gate of the Dancheon Clan with ease and arrived at the Grand Training Grounds. Their bearing was as stealthy and swift as assassins or burglars.
"Ho."
The intruder's gaze swept over us, taking in the Dancheon forces already arrayed in defense.
"So the fame of the Dancheon Sword Clan was no idle boast, I see."
A little before the Demonic Cultists invaded the Dancheon Clan — the topmost floor of Hwawollu.
"Matriarch."
Soul-Chasing Life-Taker Ma Sok had come looking for Yeo Wol in haste.
"What is it?"
A Ma Sok wearing such urgency was a highly unusual sight, so Yeo Wol asked without delay.
"An unusual stirring has been detected in Anhui."
Though Haomun's information network spread in a tight web across the whole of the Central Plains, it could not know everything. But as the saying goes, even a dog rules its own backyard — and the network covering their stronghold regions could justly be called second to none. There was no chance that Hwawollu would miss an ominous stirring in Anhui.
"What is it?"
"Unidentified martial artists are gathering in secret and moving. By our estimate, a major battle is coming."
Not a common occurrence, but not an unheard-of one either — the jianghu was, after all, an endless stage of strife.
"Their destination?"
"By our best estimate — the Dancheon Sword Clan."
The answer Ma Sok gave next was far too grave a matter to be waved off as business as usual.
"Hmm."
Only then did Yeo Wol understand why Ma Sok had looked so urgent.
"What should we do?"
Ma Sok asked — for every decision rested with Yeo Wol.
"Concentrate every available force Haomun has on the Dancheon Clan."
It meant preparing for the worst, and it meant that, if it came to it, they would intervene. To Yeo Wol and Ma Sok, at least, the Dancheon Clan was no stranger.
And Yeo Wol's decision did not end there.
"Ma Sok, you go too. Just in case."
"Will you be all right?"
Ma Sok asked, worried — his duty, after all, was to remain at Yeo Wol's side.
"Go."
"Yes."
There was no hesitation in Yeo Wol's decision, and so Hwawollu's greatest fighting strength was committed against the unforeseen as well. Yeo Wol, Matriarch of Haomun — a woman who knew the weight of a debt and cherished her friends.
Ma Sok gave her a respectful bow and hurried out of Hwawollu. Little time remained, so his urgent stride was inevitable.
"Haah—"
With the sudden crisis settled, Yeo Wol finally felt the tension drain from her body.
"Ah."
Perhaps because she had a moment to breathe at last, a person she had never thought of — someone who could help the Dancheon Clan — came to mind. Yeo Wol held a tight grip on every scrap of information in Anhui, and thanks to that, she knew he was somewhere nearby.
"Is anyone there?"
"Yes."
Preparation, after all, was best laid along many lines.
"I have an order for you."
Without hesitation, Yeo Wol resolved to send a messenger to him.
The Vagabond Swordsman Yi Chun-baek, inheritor of the Mystic Sect's lineage, had lately known a happy occasion. His spirit had blossomed, and at last essence, qi, and spirit had become one.
In other words, he had touched the Harmony Realm — the state known as the Gathering of the Three Flowers. It was not that he had gained some tremendous enlightenment; he had simply woken from sleep one morning to find himself there already. As the Mystic Sect's inheritor, he had honed his peerless martial arts without pause, so his reaching the Harmony Realm was a foreordained step — but the timing felt far earlier than he had expected.
"I wonder if Myeong is doing well."
It would be right to guess that this was because his dearly beloved junior brother had pressed a rare treasure called the Empty Blue Stone Milk into his hands without a moment's hesitation.
"It's been too long. Time I saw his face again."
Over a year had already passed since he last saw his junior brother — he had been wanting to see him for some time now. And with his own feat of ascending to the Harmony Realm piled on top, it was inevitable that Yi Chun-baek's aimless wandering steps would turn toward Anhui, where his junior brother was.
Glug, glug, glug. Gulp.
"Aaah—"
For a moment, Yi Chun-baek took a long pull at his Jiannanchun liquor, wearing the very face of the one he missed — and then his eyes sharpened like a drawn blade.
"Who goes there?"
An uninvited guest had, without warning, taken up a position behind him. It posed no crisis — for before he knew it, the sword tip in Yi Chun-baek's hand had come to rest squarely at the intruder's throat. It had halted at exactly the right point, as though he were watching it with his own two eyes; his qi sense had taken a great stride forward along with the blossoming of his spirit.
"Mmm."
The uninvited guest, who had stolen up behind Yi Chun-baek only to be pinned down instead, let out a low groan. That Yi Chun-baek did not cut him down on the spot was probably because he was in a good mood for once.
They say all things come full circle — or was it karma that repays? A hand tempered with mercy for the first time in an age had brought Yi Chun-baek a stroke of luck.
"The Vagabond Swordsman Yi Chun-baek, I presume?"
"That I am."
"Forgive the intrusion — I bear a message."
Only then did Yi Chun-baek notice that the uninvited guest carried Haomun's distinctive air. If one insisted on labels, Haomun might be called one of the unorthodox sects, but in truth it stood closer to something between righteous and evil. By Yi Chun-baek's measure, they were no band of thugs.
Yi Chun-baek readily lowered his sword — partly because the man could never have been a threat to him in the first place.
"What is it?"
The messenger dipped his head slightly, as if in thanks for the sheathed blade, and stated his business.
"Calamity has befallen the Dancheon Sword Clan."
Within those few words lay information of great weight to Yi Chun-baek. He had already been bound for the Dancheon Sword Clan, after all — and his beloved junior brother was there.
"And why tell me this?"
"I merely follow orders."
The messenger — who had once, out of foolhardy pride, tried to test Yi Chun-baek and been thoroughly trounced for it — answered meekly, without a hint of defiance.
Ting.
Yi Chun-baek drew a single silver coin from his coin pouch and flicked it into the air.
"For the information."
Plink.
"...?"
By the time the Haomun messenger caught the coin, Yi Chun-baek's figure had already vanished from the tavern.