The Flower Jade
Though there had been a few minor complications, the two of them managed to enter the Inner Court without any real trouble.
It was a place not easily accessed even by the Dang Clan's own branch members, let alone outsiders—yet the token of the Shandong Ak Clan's head clearly carried a weight of its own.
"I have informed the Young Lord of your arrival, so he will send for you shortly. Should you need anything, simply stop any attendant who passes by and let them know."
Once the guide who had shown them to their quarters had gone, a thoroughly mortified sound escaped Ak Seo-a's lips.
"Ugh..."
Cheongwol snorted a laugh at the sight of her friend, flushed red all the way to the tips of her ears.
"I told you not to worry about it. You've never been to the Dang Clan before either. How were you supposed to know there was a separate gate just for honored guests?"
In truth, the Shandong Ak Clan had a similar gate of its own—but Ak Seo-a chose simply to keep her mouth shut.
When they stepped into the room, Cheongwol's eyes went wide at an interior far more spacious and immaculate than she had expected.
"Are you sure they didn't show us the wrong place? This looks big enough for five people, not two."
While Cheongwol craned her neck this way and that, taking in the furnishings and decorations, Ak Seo-a set her belongings down beside the bed with the unhurried ease of someone who had come home.
"This will be the right place. By the by, Lady Cheongwol."
"Hmm?"
Cheongwol, who had already been stuffing mooncakes from the table into her cheeks until they bulged, glanced over.
"Might this humble one inquire as to why you sought out the Dang Clan?"
Perhaps it was from swallowing too much at once. Cheongwol's chest grew heavy in an instant, as though a stone had settled there.
"If it is difficult to reveal, you need not speak of it. But we are soon to meet the Young Lord of the Dang Clan, and if there is any way this humble one might be of aid, I wish to lend what strength I can."
Ak Seo-a perched on the edge of the bed, toes tapping, and looked at Cheongwol.
Soga-yul had cautioned her not to speak lightly of matters concerning her family—so even with Ak Seo-a, Cheongwol had no intention of opening her mouth carelessly. But so many years had already passed, had they not? Even if she found the one who had crafted it, it would be fortunate enough if they merely remembered having worked on it—never mind for whom it had been made. In other words, Cheongwol herself knew that discovering her parents' identities through the jade was all but impossible from the start.
She had come to the Dang Clan simply as a child wishing to remember her parents—and because she could not bring herself to abandon even the faintest hope. If that was how she herself regarded it, there was no reason she could not tell Ak Seo-a.
Having more or less settled her thoughts, Cheongwol's hand slowly searched inside her robes. A moment later, a flower-shaped jade of translucent green emerged into the light.
"This humble one has seen countless jades, but never one so finely and beautifully wrought. One could buy an entire estate with this and still have coin to spare."
Ak Seo-a's eyes sparkled as she gazed at the jade.
"It's a keepsake my mother left behind."
"...You might have said so a little earlier. This humble one is truly sorry..."
At that abrupt turn of phrase, Ak Seo-a's head drooped—and Cheongwol giggled as she scooted over to sit beside her.
"It's fine. You asked why I came to the Dang Clan, right? I'd heard that only a handful of people in the Central Plains can do craftsmanship like this. So I thought—if anyone would know, it might be the Dang Clan."
A forge so thick with scorching heat that a single step inside was enough to steal one's breath.
Dang Gangjin, Young Lord of the Sichuan Dang Clan, sat alone at its heart with his upper garments cast aside.
—CLANG!
A massive hammer cleaved the air, rose high, and crashed down upon the anvil—sending a spray of brilliant sparks leaping from the heated mass of iron.
Ten stray thoughts for every single blow of the hammer. He had taken up the work in the first place to still his mind—yet somehow, this time, his turmoil only spread further with every strike.
"Hah..."
Dang Gangjin set the hammer aside and carefully eased the heated iron into the water. Bubbles burst forth as the water boiled, and soon the iron slowly reclaimed its original color.
But that was all. Far from shaking free his stray thoughts, every manner of concern clung to him like slag to iron, refusing to let go.
As he stared into the fiercely burning flames of the furnace, the Beggar's Sect disciple who had sought him out under cover of night two days prior rose in Dang Gangjin's mind. Judging by the six-knot pouch at his waist, the man was one of those called Law-Beggars within the Beggar's Sect—figures who commanded both respect and trust.
Before Dang Gangjin could even offer proper courtesies, the Law-Beggar had cut straight to business.
"A couple who ran an inn at Wuhuahai appear to have met with misfortune at the hands of what seem to be martial artists of Qingcheng. The man among them was of a branch line, but he was a martial artist of the Dang Clan."
Leaving behind the Beggar's Sect man who had appeared without warning, delivered his report like a notice, and vanished, Dang Gangjin had taken only a handful of martial artists and made his way to the scene in secret.
Traces of a clumsy attempt to erase evidence lingered here and there. Pebbles split clean through, as though severed by a sharp wind-blade. Scraps of cloth buried in the earth, still soaked through with blood.
Did they mean to hide it, but lacked the time? Or did they leave this mockery for us to find on purpose? And if, by some chance, this is the work of those seeking to drive a wedge between Qingcheng and us...
Though the two were currently estranged, Qingcheng had no reason to commit so brazen a provocation. The fire in his chest urged him to devour his enemies at once—but the true form and intent of the situation remained unknown. Moreover, that the deed had been arranged in the absence of Clan Lord Dang Hyeongeuk suggested—unwelcome as the thought was—the possibility of a spy within.
In such circumstances, to act driven solely by rage was simply out of the question.
...The Dang Clan's Ledger of the Flame King never forgets a debt of grace or grudge—only the time and place of reckoning differ.
Just as he was pressing down his seething fury with cold reason, one of his close aides approached to announce the arrival of distinguished guests.
"Young Lord, there are people you ought to receive."
"Did I not say that unless it concerns that matter, you are to handle things yourselves for the time being?"
Dang Gangjin's brow furrowed slightly with displeasure, but the aide nodded with perfect composure.
"Yes. However, Lady Ak Seo-a of the Shandong Ak Clan has come to call."
Cheongwol waited in the room for Young Lord Dang Gangjin, her heart restless with anxiety.
The greater the hope, the greater the disappointment—she had tried to steel herself, and yet. This was her mother's keepsake, of all things. How could she possibly remain calm?
When one of her feet began to tremble of its own accord, she let out a wry little laugh without meaning to.
My mind won't settle, so even my body won't obey me. This is why I should have trained harder, just as Master said.
The belated regret lasted only a moment—at the sound of the door sliding open, Cheongwol sprang to her feet and turned.
"Brother!"
Ak Seo-a, who had been sitting beside her, broke into a broad smile and threw herself into his arms.
"...Seo-a. You're no longer a child. You really shouldn't throw yourself at me like this."
He seemed to be scolding her on the surface, but his eyes were full of affection.
"This humble one apologizes. But seeing Brother after so long, I simply cannot contain my joy."
"I know. I'm glad to see you too."
As his large hand gently stroked Ak Seo-a's hair, Dang Gangjin's gaze soon turned toward Cheongwol.
Under that piercing stare, Cheongwol offered an awkward smile.
"I'm Cheongwol, from Qinghai Province."
"Brother, Lady Cheongwol is a dear friend of this humble one. She said she had business with the Dang Clan, so we came together."
At their voices, Dang Gangjin finally reclaimed the wits that had briefly left him.
"I've been discourteous before a guest. I am Dang Gangjin, Young Lord of the Dang Clan."
Even as he smiled awkwardly, his gaze remained fixed on Cheongwol.
...Was it a trick of the eye?
At first glance she had seemed to resemble someone—but looking again, there was little resemblance after all, and his head tilted of its own accord.
"Please, sit."
As he took the seat of honor, Cheongwol and Ak Seo-a settled into their places after him.
"So then, Lady Cheongwol—what brings you to our Dang Clan?"
Her uncommon beauty did something to mask it, but judging by her dress and her clumsy etiquette, she was unlikely to be the child of a distinguished house. Had she not been Ak Seo-a's friend, he would never have met this woman at all—so whatever her business, it was surely nothing of great importance. And so Dang Gangjin smiled lightly, his manner easy and unhurried.
"First of all, thank you for seeing us. As Young Lord of the Dang Clan, you must be terribly busy with both public and private affairs..."
"It's no trouble. As a friend of our Seo-a, this much is nothing at all."
When Dang Gangjin showed his goodwill once more, Cheongwol finally relaxed enough to carefully draw from her robes the keepsake her mother had left her and set it down.
"...This jade—would you be able to tell whether it was crafted by the Dang Clan? And if not, I'd at least like to know where it was made."
"This is..."
Dang Gangjin's expression shifted again and again as he looked at the jade.
"May I examine it more closely?"
"Yes."
With permission given, he took it into his own hands, brought it close before his eyes, and turned it this way and that. The flower-shaped craftsmanship alone was already something close to a miracle of skill—and yet dozens of petals had been carved so vividly they seemed ready to tremble at any moment.
And this form—it's almost as if...
After gazing at it for a long while, Dang Gangjin at last set the jade down and let out a quiet breath.
"...To cut to the conclusion—yes, this was crafted by the Dang Clan."
"Then do you know who crafted it as well...?!"
Color was just beginning to bloom across Cheongwol's face when Dang Gangjin's eyes turned cold.
"Before that. I don't know whether you're aware, Lady—but as Young Lord of the Dang Clan, there is something I must confirm."
"...Pardon? What is it..."
Sensing the air in the room shift in an instant, Cheongwol felt a chill run through her.
"Looking closely, every single petal holds the subtle principles of the Dang Clan's martial arts. And not the arts of the Outer Court—those of the Inner Court. In other words, this was clearly crafted by hand by someone of the direct bloodline who has reached an exceedingly high realm."
Staring straight at the now-pale Cheongwol, Dang Gangjin asked sharply:
"You—where exactly did you obtain this?"