Jegal Hwaryeon (1)
A rumor had begun to circulate through the Jegal Clan.
"Have you heard the story?"
"What story?"
"The one that Seolseoin is telling just up the road."
"A Seolseoin? One of those hacks who spit out nothing but wild fantasies? Don't tell me he's peddling some nonsense too."
That Seolseoin told outrageous lies was a truth widely accepted throughout the murim. They had never so much as watched a real fight between martial artists, yet they dressed up their fabrications in every flowery phrase imaginable—and worse, they made money doing it. Martial artists regarded them with something close to contempt. So when the name came up, the Jegal Clan warrior who had just spoken practically spat the word.
"Hey! Don't you go saying things like that anywhere! Our Master Lee is nothing of the sort!"
At that, the man who had first raised the subject flared up at once. As if he had uttered something unforgivable, he swung around and began defending the Seolseoin—even calling him Master.
"What are you talking about? Not long ago, when you saw that Seolseoin spouting rubbish in the marketplace, didn't you say, 'People fear us because of trash like him'?"
"I did. But those were the garbage Seolseoin. Master Lee is different."
"Different how? What is that supposed to mean?"
"Listen carefully. First of all, Master Lee doesn't take money."
"What? He doesn't take money? Is that even possible?"
The other man repeated it in disbelief. In his mind, Seolseoin were the sort who spun a scrap of a tale and then fleeced the crowd—so the reaction was only natural.
"Come now! Do you think they call him Master Lee for nothing? Master Lee tells stories packed with enlightenment for the ignorant common folk. How could a man like that take payment?"
"Enlightenment? Just what kind of story is he telling that has you talking like this?"
"Heh heh heh… Listen well. The story Master Lee tells is—"
The warrior could not hide his grin, as if he had been waiting for this very moment. He himself, the first time he heard it, had worn a look of stunned disbelief and asked the same question over and over.
"It's the story of our Jegal ancestor! Have you ever heard of the Longzhong Plan? A strategy that carved the Central Plains into three in the midst of chaos! And it was our ancestor who devised it!"
"What? The Longzhong Plan? That's an awfully grand name. And what—divide the Central Plains into three? Is that even possible?"
The warrior gaped and asked again and again. Every member of the Jegal Clan received a basic classical education. Because of that, he knew better than anyone how absurd the idea of a "Longzhong Plan" sounded.
Divide the realm into three.
Easy to say. In practice, it meant weighing the shape of the realm, the hearts of the people, armies, and supplies all at once. Even the finest strategist would hesitate to speak such a plan aloud.
And his own ancestor had done it?
"Hah! I reacted just like you at first. But it's true. I heard the story myself, and I couldn't help but be amazed."
"Then let's go at once! I can't stand not knowing!"
"Hahaha! I knew you'd say that. Today's performance is in one shichen. When the time comes, I'll come find you."
And so, neither quietly nor discreetly, word of Lee Munhyuk's performance spread among the people of the Jegal Clan.
"A performance about our ancestor…?"
The rumor traveled far enough to reach the ears of Jegal Hwaryeon, daughter of the clan head.
Countless people had gathered to see me.
It wasn't as if I had never drawn a crowd this size before. But those had never been performances where I was the main attraction. The audience had always come for the actors they favored.
The people packed in front of me now had come for me alone.
A strange feeling stirred at that thought.
But this was no time to dwell on it. I pushed the emotion aside and struck the gong that signaled the start of the performance.
Jiiiiiing~!
The instant the gong rang out, the crowd roared as if they had been waiting for nothing else.
"Liu Bei! Guan Yu! Zhang Feiiii! Ahhh~~ah!!!!"
By now the opening chant poured from their mouths without any cue from me.
"Heroes and great men! Gathered together! For the thrilling Three Kingdoms!!!! Ah! Ha!"
When the song ended, still more people came flooding in, drawn by the sound.
"All right, everyone! Before we begin today's performance, allow me to briefly recount the story so far for those joining us for the first time!"
The Longzhong Plan had been laid. An alliance with Eastern Wu. Then the Battle of Red Cliffs. In its wake, the Central Plains split into three great powers—Wei, Shu, and Wu. Afterward, Zhuge Liang rose to the office of Chancellor, supporting Liu Bei upon the imperial throne. But when Liu Bei died and Liu Shan succeeded him, the foundation of Shu remained far from secure.
I sketched it all out in brief, then swept my gaze across the crowd.
Lately there had been more and more martial robes in a scholarly cut—the dress of the Jegal Clan. By now the Jegal people were everywhere, too many to count one by one.
Just as planned.
A vast crowd. And the Jegal Clan. Allies, both within and without, had gathered. When today's performance ended, it would be time to set the plan in motion.
"…And so, seven times. Meng Huo, lord of the Southern Border Beast Palace and ruler of the southern wilds, was defeated by Zhuge Liang seven times—and seven times Zhuge Liang set him free."
Calling Meng Huo a man of the Southern Border Beast Palace was a concession to the fantasies martial artists of this age held about the murim. And it hardly counted as a problem. Anyone who had read the original Romance knew the southern campaign was packed with tales so far removed from reality that fantasy wuxia looked tame by comparison.
"Seven Captures, Seven Releases! Caught seven times and freed seven times, Meng Huo at last understood that Zhuge Liang was a man no martial skill or cunning of his own could ever overcome—and so, at last, he surrendered in truth."
With that, today's performance was all but finished.
"He tamed those untamable brutes of the Southern Border Beast Palace?"
"He's incredible… Unnie, do you think everyone in the Jegal Clan is that amazing?"
"Wouldn't they be? They're the descendants of Zhuge Liang, after all."
As the listeners murmured among themselves about Zhuge Liang, I could see the shoulders of the Jegal Clan members lift of their own accord.
"And so, having pacified the south and returned, Zhuge Liang still had work left to do. He had to honor the late emperor's dying charge—to punish that treacherous usurper, the state of Wei."
In that instant every breath caught, and every eye fixed on me.
What story would unfold now? What catharsis would Zhuge Liang deliver this time? Every face was hungry for it.
But the words that left my mouth were not the ones they wanted.
"And when all preparations were complete, before marching out, Zhuge Liang presented a memorial to Emperor Liu Shan. I speak of the Chu Shi Biao!!!"
Zhuge Liang was so famous that some people assumed any "Chu Shi Biao" must mean the one he wrote. That was a misunderstanding. A Chu Shi Biao was simply a memorial a subject submitted to his emperor or king before setting out on campaign. The people of this world knew it that way too.
But after today, that would change. From this day forward, "Chu Shi Biao" would mean what it meant in the world I came from—Zhuge Liang's Chu Shi Biao, and no other.
I dropped to one knee, lifted the letter I had prepared, and began to read.
"The late emperor failed to complete his great enterprise and has departed this world. The realm of the Central Plains is now divided into three, and the province of Yi is exhausted and barren; the fate of the state hangs in the balance…"
I poured everything into the atmosphere and read the prepared Chu Shi Biao aloud. The entire crowd held its breath and listened.
"…Your Majesty, examine yourself well, and act upon right words and proper deeds, that you may hold the late emperor's dying will deep within your heart. Your servant is overwhelmed by Your Majesty's grace. As I take my leave, tears blind my eyes, and I know not what more to say."
Snap.
With those final words, the letter in my hands folded shut.
It was the very emblem of loyal devotion to the nation. There was a reason people said, "If you can read the Chu Shi Biao without shedding tears, you are no true loyal subject." Zhuge Liang's memorial was that magnificent a piece of writing.
The version I had pieced together from memory might not have matched the original word for word—but it had not failed to carry the original's meaning. The proof was right in front of me: countless people were actually weeping.
"And so Zhuge Liang! Honoring the late emperor's dying charge, at last raised the banner of the Northern Expedition!"
The crowd that had been holding its breath began to stir. Every face was bright with expectation, certain there was more to come.
But it was over. I was sorry to disappoint them—yet I spoke the words they least wanted to hear.
"And what became of it? Of Zhuge Liang's Northern Expedition? I would dearly love to tell you what followed… but sadly, it seems I will no longer be able to."
Nothing leaves an audience hungrier than cutting a story off at its climax. The moment I finished speaking, people began to shout.
"No—that can't be! What do you mean, it's over!"
"You said the Northern Expedition had begun! So what happened after that!"
"Tomorrow! You'll tell us tomorrow, right? Right?"
"It isn't even time to go home yet! Why are you stopping!"
"Master Lee! What is the meaning of this? Is it money? Is that it? How much do you need! I'll pay it! Just tell us what became of Master Zhuge Liang after that!"
Just as I had expected, the backlash was fierce. Some denied it. Some raged. And some tried to bargain with me. Their reactions differed, but the same feeling sat in every heart.
Resentment—toward me, for saying I would stop the story.
I was taking the resentment of hundreds all at once. And now it was time to turn those arrows elsewhere.
Jiiiiiing~!
I struck the gong once amid the uproar and silenced the crowd.
Then—
"I am terribly sorry as well. That I can no longer tell you the story… But what am I to do? The elders of the Jegal Clan look unfavorably upon my tale… khhhk…"
I wore the face of a man who truly had no choice, and for the finishing touch I swallowed the last words as if on the verge of tears.
"What…? What did you say? The Jegal Clan? Why on earth!"
The crowd began to murmur. The arrows of resentment swung away from me and toward the Jegal Clan.
"I am sorry… I have nothing more I can tell you… Against my will, it seems there will be no further performances… Forgive me, everyone."
I hung my head like a guilty man. Then, speaking as if some pressure had been brought to bear on me, I carefully withdrew from the stage.
"Master Lee! Master Lee! Don't go! Master Lee!"
A few people cried out and caught at me. But my flawless performance of a man full of worry fooled them, and the hands that had seized me slowly let go.
I trudged along, drained and heavy-footed, until at last I reached a place where no one else was around.
"Heh heh. That ought to do it."
I had packed the soil nice and firm, then sown the seed. Once that seed sprouted, getting the book printed would be as good as done.
"Brother Lee, that was a fascinating story. But I've never heard the grandfathers say anything of the sort. What did you mean by that?"
A voice from behind me made me jump. I spun around—and found a young woman I had never seen before.
She was strikingly beautiful at a single glance. Skin like white jade, rare in this age; long lashes; and features so cleanly drawn they stopped the tongue. If there was such a thing as beauty that left a man speechless, this was surely it.
But at her waist hung a sword sheath.
A martial artist, without question.
That fact snapped me back to myself, and I took stock of the situation. No matter how beautiful the woman, martial artists as a breed were dangerous. So I put on a look of utter incomprehension and played dumb.
"Ahem… I'm not sure I follow. What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. You claimed the grandfathers look unfavorably on the performance. But I've never heard them say any such thing."
A question mark popped up in my head. Grandfathers, out of nowhere?
I answered as carefully as I could.
"Young lady, what do you mean by that? Grandfathers?"
"You said it during the performance. That the grandfathers disapproved. You said it quite clearly. That's why I followed you—I was curious. As far as I remember, the grandfathers never said anything of the kind."
Ah…
Now I understood. She called the Jegal Clan elders "Grandfather," which meant this young woman was almost certainly the descendant of someone high-ranking in the clan.
"Might you be of the Jegal Clan, by any chance?"
"I am."
"Since you say you are of the Jegal Clan, allow me to say this—elders do not share every household matter with their young descendants."
She looked young, so I wrapped you're too young to know in the softest phrasing I could manage.
"And so I don't believe I can speak of it freely."
I thought that would be enough for her to understand. It wasn't.
"It's all right. You can tell me."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The clan head is my father, and the Supreme Elder is my maternal grandfather. There shouldn't be any problem. So please explain. What exactly is going on?"
I was screwed.
My aggro had pulled in a heavyweight—and she was demanding an explanation.