The Expedient Path
It was an afternoon when sunlight seeped through the window slats and cast deep shadows across the floor.
The room was thick with hot air, yet that alone could not account for the heaviness of every breath.
Beyond the motes of dust suspended in the air, Dang Gangjin fixed his gaze on the door and drew his brow faintly tight.
Why had the Alliance Leader, who ought to have been at the Wulin Alliance, appeared without warning on Sichuan soil? And as if that were not enough, he had strode boldly into the safe house of those who stood in sharp opposition to him. Dang Gangjin could not fathom what design lay behind such a move — but he had not the slightest intention of being led about by it.
A moment later, the door slid open with a low rattle, and Yu Baekheon crossed the threshold.
One step. Two.
At a glance, his gait was no different from any ordinary man's — yet only silence circled at the ear.
"Dang Gangjin, Young Lord of the Sichuan Dang Clan, greets the Alliance Leader."
They might as well have been enemies now, but so long as they still upheld the banner of righteousness together, the minimum of courtesy had to be observed. Receiving a greeting that was spare yet flawless, Yu Baekheon gave a slow nod.
"I have heard you are discharging the duties of Acting Clan Head. I accept the sentiment with gratitude, but spare me any further ceremony."
As Yu Baekheon took his seat, Dang Gangjin quietly tilted the teapot over the leaves. Water murmured low; the leaves rose and fell as if dancing, and a thin freshness of green scent unfurled through the room.
"You have come a long way. Wet your lips first."
Yu Baekheon was not a man who cared much for tea, yet this once he lifted the cup without delay.
"A fine fragrance."
A subtle sweetness filled his mouth, and a look of quiet satisfaction settled on his face of its own accord.
"I am glad it suits you."
"There is no one in the Central Plains for whom White Tiger Silver Needle does not suit."
Yu Baekheon set the cup down, and Dang Gangjin's gaze — gentle, yet utterly composed — turned upon him.
"Still, I cannot help but wonder what brings you to Sichuan without so much as a word of notice. Had you informed us in advance, I would have sent someone to receive you properly."
"Word reached me of someone whose ties to me were severed long ago, and I came in haste, without a moment to spare. I have searched every corner of the Central Plains for him — only to learn he has been working at an inn here all this time."
After the Alliance Leader set foot on Sichuan soil, black-clad men of unknown origin had murdered a Dang Clan martial artist who worked at that very inn. And the acquaintance Yu Baekheon claimed to have sought so desperately had been working there as well. At the uncanny coincidence, the tea caught in Dang Gangjin's throat.
"I see. After so long a separation, the reunion must have been truly joyful."
"When I looked upon his face, I nearly wept."
At the claim that the Alliance Leader had nearly shed tears, Dang Gangjin swallowed a hollow laugh. The venom this man carried in his heart would not have shamed the poisons of the Dang Clan itself — what absurdity was this?
"I would have done the same."
He spoke words utterly at odds with his true feelings, and was about to draw the warmth of the tea once more when —
"That is not truly what you wish to ask, is it?"
At Yu Baekheon's bluntness, Dang Gangjin paused a beat, then let out a thin sigh.
"It seems I am still far from skilled enough to escape the Alliance Leader's eye."
A keen edge flickered faintly through his gaze.
"But since you have asked, I shall answer. What is your true purpose in seeking out our clan?"
He had seemed rather soft for the Young Lord of the Dang Clan — yet the moment a gap appeared, he drove into it without a shred of hesitation. Watching him, Yu Baekheon wore a faint smile.
"Must there always be a reason to come? I merely stopped by to pay my respects while I was in Sichuan. It is a pity I missed your father, that is all."
At words in which falsehood and truth were cunningly braided, Dang Gangjin looked down at the cup still breathing steam. If one could not tell them apart, one need only accept neither.
"...I see."
With that, a brief stillness settled over the room.
He refilled the cups once more, and after they had wet their throats a time or two, it was Yu Baekheon who spoke first.
"Nothing else you wish to know? Anything at all. I came prepared for that from the start."
Dang Gangjin seemed to hesitate a moment, then asked carefully.
"Then I shall ask not as Young Lord of the Dang Clan, but as a junior of the orthodox path."
The air about him, cold as a well-honed hidden blade, had fallen away. What sat before Yu Baekheon now was simply a martial artist who had not yet found his answer.
"I do not know what others may think, but I do not believe that what the Alliance Leader seeks to accomplish is wholly wrong. However..."
He swallowed dryly, then continued, his voice heavy.
"I have heard that far too much blood has already been spilled. And the blood yet to be shed will be no less. Can a path stained with blood truly be called the Righteous Way?"
Had the Young Lord of the Dang Clan asked it, he might not have answered. But it was a young junior's question, and so Yu Baekheon weighed his reply with care, again and again.
"The sages of old spoke of two paths within the Way. One is the Righteous Path you name — the Jeongdo. The other is the Expedient Path — the Gweondo."
Their eyes met in the empty air between them.
"Picture this. A pickpocket child in ragged clothes flees with two steamed buns clutched in his hands. Rounding an alley, he comes face to face with a constable wearing his badge of office."
The longer Dang Gangjin listened, the more he felt the world darkening around him, though it was broad day.
"By the letter of the law, the boy should have received ten strokes of the rod. But the constable knew the child's mother had long been sick. And so he closed his eyes a moment and waited for the boy to pass. Nor did he forget to go to the shopkeeper and pay for the buns."
With a sound like surf breaking, black waves within the mind lapped at Dang Gangjin's feet.
"In the end, the constable violated the Righteous Path — and by doing so, he was spared becoming a beast. Do you take my meaning?"
Seawater cold enough to freeze the bone climbed his ankles and pressed up against his chest.
"To preserve the banner of righteousness, there come moments when one must step outside the Way. You asked whether a bloodstained road can be called the Righteous Path. The question itself is wrong. The path I mean to walk is the Expedient Path."
The seawater had reached his throat. He tilted his chin up, straining for air.
"Even after losing those they hold dear — would people still choose to walk that road?"
As if asking whether Yu Baekheon himself was prepared to do so, Dang Gangjin's eyes locked on him. Yu Baekheon's face hardened to stone.
"I, too, have buried many beneath that road. One among them I would have traded my own life to save. This is not a matter of accepting or refusing. It is something that must be done. And so..."
The fierce northern current of the North Sea gathered itself into a wave that blotted out the sky, and at last it crashed down upon Dang Gangjin's head.
"No matter what sacrifice lies ahead — I will not stop."
When the boat that had come up the Yangtze reached the ferry landing, the merchant caravan's people shouldered their loads first and crossed the gangplank with care.
Dawn mist clung to the riverbank, and the boat, moored by its rope, left only the faintest tremor behind.
"We should disembark as well."
"Yes."
Once the bustling procession had thinned, those who had waited a step back set foot on solid ground at their leisure. So long accustomed to the river's violent current, the stillness beneath their feet felt almost strange.
"There they are."
They had not walked far before the two men joined a group waiting in the dark, holding the reins of horses.
"The dawn dew must have been quite cold. You need not have waited outside."
"It is nothing."
After a brief exchange of greetings, they swung into the saddle without delay.
"Let us go."
A light tap of the reins, and hooves struck stone, kicking up dust.
It was not a long road — and yet today it stretched longer than a thousand li. Wet blades of grass keened as the wind brushed past them, and the horses' rough breath drove the darkness back by degrees.
After cresting several ridges, a red light began to rise in the east between the mountain spines. One by one, the stars withdrew. Their fading only made the heart more restless.
"We are nearly there."
Perhaps because the impatience showed plain on his face, the man who had come ashore with him spoke up lightly. On the boat he had seemed so unconcerned it was almost off-putting — yet the closer they drew, the more the man's fretting face let a smile slip free.
"Your heart is my heart."
In truth, he too wanted nothing more than to pour every scrap of his inner energy into lightness skill and race ahead at once. He had tried to restrain himself, knowing that premature certainty could turn to crushing disappointment — but it was useless. Already, in a corner of his heart, he was holding up the face of a young woman he had never met against the image of one who was gone.
If — if that young woman truly was his niece —
Even the thought of it made his chest tighten and emotion surge up hard; he bit down on his lip.
And so, cresting the final rise without pause, the fortress walls he had longed for at last filled his sight.
"There it is at last."
The banners atop the ramparts glittered gold, and the drum that announced the dawn rolled wide across the land. As if welcoming their arrival, a smile spread unbidden across the lips of the man riding at the front.
"Welcome back to Chengdu."