4. Baek Clan Estate (3)
Baek Clan Estate (3)
4. Baek Clan Estate (3)
Leaving Father in the midst of his emotional outburst, I walked out of the Head's Hall and slowly made my way back to my room.
I opened the bottle of liquor Father had given me, perched on the windowsill, and took a drink straight from the bottle without a glass. It was the sort of scene that appeared often enough in martial arts novels, and I'd always wanted to try it just once.
Truthfully, more than striking this kind of pose, I wanted to live out the clichés of a martial-arts protagonist: drawing out strands of sword qi like noodles, hiding my strength, then suddenly unleashing martial aura and shocking everyone around me. But naturally, such feats were reserved for an exceedingly small minority. By the law of probability, I hadn't been born among them.
If the eldest son of a martial family had a hostile half-brother for a rival, his own pathetic talent would normally be cause for despair. But between this life and my last, I'd already lived for more than fifty years. Granted, I'd only lived through youth twice and knew nothing of middle age, but I wasn't naive enough to despair over a reality I couldn't change. Being born in a capitalist society didn't mean everyone could become the head of a major corporation. The same was true here. It was only natural that I ended up a third-rate martial artist. In a world where human rights barely existed, being born into a family like mine already counted as an extraordinarily fortunate life.
At first, my heart had swelled with hope for the future too. Not because I was anything special, but because I had something to pin those hopes on.
Unlimited Mana.
It was an ability I'd possessed from birth, a parting gift from the demon. A martial-arts world was fine by me. I could hurl Fireballs left and right and claim they were Extreme Yang Palm strikes. But although the ability promised Unlimited Mana, it came with no instructions for using magic. Hell, by then I wasn't even sure I actually had it.
For a while, I'd let myself hope. In some novels I'd read, mana and internal energy were compatible depending on the setting. If my internal energy were unlimited, even someone with my poor aptitude might have climbed fairly high. But as internal energy—a power I'd never experienced in my past life—slowly accumulated, I found that even enough of it to lift two sacks of rice with ease did nothing to awaken my mana. Once I set aside that useless power, all I had left was my grandfather's pathetic martial talent and my father's brutish face.
In the end, I had no choice but to give up on a dazzling, protagonist-like life and pursue one of peaceful contentment.
Perhaps the demon had planned this from the start: a useless ability that still left me unable to let go. The condition it had given me at the very end for acquiring another ability continued to tempt me. Even if killing a hundred people only earned me a low-grade spell like Magic Missile, Unlimited Mana might still let me pass for a master in the martial world, if not make me invincible. But what if the next draw was another dud? Would I kill another hundred and pull the gacha again like a gambling addict? Even in a martial-arts world, mass murderers who had personally killed nine hundred people were rare enough to count on one hand.
Father sometimes went out to suppress bandits and harvested heads like crops, but a bandit gang rarely numbered more than twenty. Even if he went every year, ten years would barely bring the total to two hundred. If I started killing to gain abilities, however, I wouldn't stop until all nine hundred were dead. There couldn't possibly be nine hundred easy targets among the petty bandits who had lost out in the Central Plains' unorthodox power struggles and come here to play at being Green Forest outlaws. And if I started lopping off the heads of commoners with no martial arts, I'd easily earn some embarrassingly dramatic title like “the mad killer remembered by history.” By then, my clan would probably expel me, and some major sect would send a promising young disciple after me as a reputation-building quest.
If I truly set my mind to it, I could get a job as an executioner lopping off the heads of condemned prisoners in Beijing and somehow achieve my goal that way, but that kind of life still felt wrong somehow. Unlike my past life, even without abilities, I wasn't particularly troubled anyway.
At any rate, the liquor Father had given me was genuinely delicious. The fragrance that filled my room as soon as I opened the bottle was enough to make me feel pleasantly drunk. If there was any left, should I ask for another bottle? Right then, it felt as though Father would give me anything I asked for. The only problem was how strong it was. I'd taken only a few sips, yet I could already feel the alcohol rising. That was fine. I could simply lie down and sleep. At that moment, all the days I'd spent desperately training in pursuit of wealth, glory, and some dream of becoming a master felt utterly foolish.
Morning dawned. Training no longer served a purpose, but out of habit, I sat on my bed and performed a light round of Qi Circulation and Breath Regulation, expelling the turbid qi that had accumulated since the previous day.
It was a remarkable sensation. Energy wriggled through my body, finished its work, and then carefully returned to my dantian. I'd given up on the path of a martial artist, but I intended to keep up this morning routine for my health.
My mornings were for estate business; afternoons were for training. I'd decided to slack off on the latter, but as long as I ate under this roof, I had to do my share of the work properly. As the eldest son, I met visitors to Baek Clan Estate in the guest hall. I'd spent my past life sick of working in a customer-service center. Maybe reincarnation had nothing to do with it; perhaps this was simply my lot in life. Father personally received visitors from powers stronger than ours in the reception room, so those sent to me were usually people trying to curry favor with the estate or ask us for something. Unlike in my past life, I never had to endure abusive customers throwing their weight around, but deciding which requests to grant and which to refuse was every bit as much of a headache.
"Young Master, you're here."
The retainer stationed in the guest hall was Jang Chung. His name sounded as though he ought to be good at boiling pig's trotters, but the man possessed no cooking skill whatsoever. His job was to stand stolidly at my side with the thug-like face befitting a Baek Clan Estate retainer—and to have enough sense to bring tea and place it on my desk without being told.
I received my work report from Jang Chung along with a cup of richly fragrant Tieguanyin.
"For now, twelve people are waiting in the Outer Hall. No special visitors."
"Twelve people this early in the morning?"
"Three of them have been waiting since last night. If they don't see you this morning, Young Master, they'll have to wait another full day."
"Send them in one at a time, in order."
"Yes. Understood."
A moment later, Jang Chung brought in an elderly man. I hadn't said a word, yet the man kept bowing and scraping. He wasn't a martial artist. Most visitors to the guest hall were commoners seeking some favor. Jilin was barren and damnably cold. With the Northern Sea Ice Palace in the neighboring region, this was no place for people to live, either. Still, those who had made their homes in such harsh country had to scrape by somehow, and when life became more than they could bear, they came to Baek Clan Estate.
"I... I pay my respects to the Eldest Young Master of Baek Clan Estate."
The slight old man trembled all over as he bowed far more deeply than necessary.
"There are many people waiting. Please keep your business brief."
At that, the old man squeezed his eyes shut. His clenched fists trembled as he spoke cautiously.
"My grandchild has fallen ill. In trying to pay for medicine, my family has nothing left to eat..."
It was a painfully common story. For the old man, it was surely an enormous tragedy; for me, sitting in the guest hall, it was one I'd heard until I was sick of it.
"So how much do you need?"
"Pardon? Y-you're lending it to us?"
"Do you not need it?"
"N-no! No, indeed! C-could I borrow... five silver taels?"
"I shall lend it to you. You said your family is on the verge of starving to death, did you not? Repay it after the harvest this autumn.
"Jang Chung, disburse five taels here and take a promissory note."
At my matter-of-fact words, the old man bowed until his forehead nearly touched the floor, as moved as if he'd received a blessing from heaven. Jang Chung looked indifferent, but I knew how the old man felt. A demon had once shown me similar grace.
"All right, next."
The second, third, and fourth visitors came for much the same reason, but I refused the third man. He had already borrowed money three times and had begun to take Baek Clan Estate's generosity for granted. A man without money became a sinner. I had no kindness to spare for someone who had forgotten that obvious truth.
The sixth visitor was unexpectedly a martial artist. He asked to spar with Father, but I sent him away with a plausible excuse. He couldn't have been much if he obeyed the word of the estate head's son without protest. Still, if Father struggled against him even slightly, Baek Clan Estate's reputation would suffer. And even if the man were a famous Central Plains master whom Father defeated, we had nothing to gain. This was the frontier beyond the Great Wall. Around here, fame earned by defeating a Central Plains expert meant little.
The seventh visitor was a middle-aged woman. Tears clung to the corners of her eyes, and she had bitten her lips hard enough to draw blood. Ah... finally, a visitor with something worthwhile.
"Y-Young Master! I beg of you! I truly beg of you! If... if you will only kill that bastard, I will offer even my life!"
A woman asking for revenge as abruptly as if she were bargaining with a demon. This region belonged to the Chinese cultural sphere, but not to the Ming. It was Jurchen land, home to the Jin dynasty that had once grown vast enough to threaten the Central Plains. Yet the Jurchens had always been poor at building administrative institutions. Despite their physical strength, the Central Plains had treated them as barbarians: first as subjects of Goguryeo and Balhae in the days of the Mohe, and now as remnants of the fallen Jin. Even after they renamed themselves Manchus, destroyed the Ming, and founded the Qing, their underdeveloped social institutions would eventually lead them to assimilate into Chinese culture.
The government offices they had established in Jilin were therefore little more than names on paper. The common people came to Baek Clan Estate instead, and over time the estate had assumed the authority of a local government office.
The middle-aged woman's daughter had been raped the week before by the man next door. With no one but mother and daughter in the household, they had been unable to resist a grown man. Weeping tears of blood, the woman had gathered every last coin she owned and come to Baek Clan Estate.
"I have no need of money. Baek Clan Estate isn't a band of hired blades.
"Jang Chung, have Yu-hwan investigate. If it's true, tell him to take care of it."
"Yes, Young Master."
The woman broke down sobbing in relief. Baek Clan Estate was no champion of justice. I refused payment because I planned to wring plenty of money out of the man responsible.
If he had no money, he could pay through forced labor. Resolving incidents like this would also strengthen Baek Clan Estate's position in the region.
I worked through the visitors quickly. Three more arrived in the meantime, bringing the total to fifteen, but before long only the final visitor remained.
"Next."
"This one is a bit unusual. She's a young woman carrying a sword, and her martial uniform isn't one I recognize. Judging by the calluses on her fingers, she has trained to some degree, but I sense no internal energy from her."
Huh?
No internal energy? Where had I heard that one before? Wasn't this the most classic cliché of all, where a seemingly ordinary stranger turned out to be a supreme master? The sort of character some arrogant sect dismissed, only for her to unleash Sword Aura and give them a satisfying comeuppance? If her internal energy couldn't be sensed, perhaps she was a first-class martial artist capable of using Sword Aura. But there were no young first-class masters. Maybe she only looked young because her monstrous internal energy had slowed her aging.
My heart began to race. It was a dream I'd once abandoned. If I made a good impression on such a supreme master, couldn't I stand tall as a proud martial artist too?
"Bring her in at once."
I calmed myself and received the day's final visitor. She entered with measured steps and politely offered a cupped-fist salute. She had a remarkably youthful face, long straight hair, and a tall frame for a woman. Her features were quite beautiful.
But...
Her martial uniform was so tattered that I wondered whether she came from the Beggars' Sect. Patches covered it from top to bottom, making it look at least ten years old.
The Beggars' Sect? No, impossible. The first rule of begging was to work wealthy neighborhoods. Any beggar who chose a barren place like this, where no one had anything to spare, deserved to lose their license.
She carried her sword as though it were precious, but it had no scabbard. It was wrapped roughly in cloth, leaving the tip exposed. The blade was so old and worn, with chips missing here and there, that it looked more like a saw than a sword. Appearance alone wasn't enough to rule out the possibility that she was a master. In her case, though, I felt certain. Despite her pretty features, she was as gaunt and underfed as any village beggar.
"I am Son Yeong of Yeongsan Sect."
Despite her shabby appearance, she spoke in a clear voice. I had no idea where Yeongsan Sect was or what kind of sect it might be, but since she had offered a cupped-fist salute, courtesy required me to treat her as a fellow martial artist. I rose and returned the salute.
"I am Baek Eun-hyeok of Baek Clan Estate."
"Our sect has fallen on hard times. I am ashamed to come asking, but I sought help from the Baek Clan Estate, whose fame reaches even the Central Plains."
Her face flushed as she spoke. Hard times? Had war broken out with an unorthodox sect? Had Baek Clan Estate's fame really spread so far that other sects now came to us for support against the unorthodox faction?
"I'm sorry to hear your sect has fallen on hard times. What kind of help, specifically, do you seek from Baek Clan Estate?"
At my question, her face reddened further, until it resembled a ripe persimmon.
"I know this is shameless of me. But Yeongsan Sect's storehouse has run dry, and our younger disciples are starving. Would you... be willing to offer us a little financial aid?"
"S-support?"
"I am ashamed to ask this. Our sect is so weak that we cannot even promise to repay you someday. But Yeongsan Sect never forgets a kindness. Please, I beg for your generosity."
Ah... damn it. Cliché, my ass. My first impression had been right. She was just a beggar who'd come asking for handouts.