“So… well… Kang Ryung is a murder suspect in Kang Chung’s death… and, as you can see, there’s also an unfair contract against the natives…”
Gwak Seon, branch chief of the Martial Alliance’s Gangsan Village office, bowed and scraped while cold sweat beaded on him. On ordinary days he had some confidence in his own martial arts and the pride to tilt his chin high as the local branch chief who kept order.
He couldn’t do that now. One wrong move and his dantian could be shattered and he’d wind up hanging by the neck—or dragged off to a Martial Alliance detention camp to slave until he died. Because of the woman in front of him, arms folded, watching him with a cold gaze.
A long scar ran from the left brow to the right cheek. More scars marked the lip and the left cheek. And yet, with the slim jawline, big eyes, high nose bridge, and full lips, she was beautiful. A face you didn’t forget after one look.
She spoke.
“Branch Chief Gwak, you truly didn’t know?”
Gwak Seon’s hands shook. If he were innocent—or had a little more time—he wouldn’t have trembled or fawned. He would have seen this patrol inspector off with a report that nothing was wrong and a suitable gift slipped into her hand.
But she had reached Gangsan Village before he could bury or “resolve” the matter. She looked the town over once, immediately confirmed the murder of Kang Chung, then followed the traces and lines straight here to the native valley village in one go.
And whatever that bastard Kang Ryung had done with his thirty hireblades, the native village didn’t look so much as ruffled, while the natives had actually detained the hireblades to accuse Kang Chung and claim self-defense.
After a moment’s thought, Gwak Seon decided to brazen it out. Kang Ryung had killed a friend from his own home town and then run off with his body and the hireblades. There was no way any proof of bribes he’d taken would exist on him now.
“Inspector Jeok… I truly had no idea he was going to go this far. If I had, I would’ve found a way to hold him in Gangsan Village first. If you’d like to call me incompetent… I’ll accept it humbly.”
Jeok Se-in watched him with the same cold eyes, then nodded mildly.
“Fine, Branch Chief Gwak. Then first, have those hireblades bound and taken back to town. Tell the Trade Guild to prepare compensation for the residents here, and draw up a document with your branch seal recognizing their title to the land.”
“Oh, is that acceptable? Understood! I’ll prepare the papers and squeeze the Trade Guild bastards dry! I’ll have them set aside gold these natives have never even seen! Hahaha!”
Overjoyed, Gwak Seon answered in a hurry and mounted up. Sanho, watching him head toward the prisoners, knit his brows a little and looked back at Jeok Se-in.
“Why are you letting him go? That bastard took bribes and meant to turn a blind eye to a massacre here. We’ve got proof—his bribe ledger. We found it in that Kang Ryung’s safe.”
“Right. Within our authority, we could get rid of him this instant. But after that?”
“…After that?”
Jeok Se-in unfolded her arms, set a hand on her hip, and watched Gwak Seon ride off. Her eyes were ice.
“If we take him out now, this place has a law-and-order vacuum. It’ll be good hunting for any Unorthodox scum nearby. Rotten as he is, he usually kept to the line; left alone, he’ll do the job—for now. Until the Inspectorate arrives with a new branch chief and the ledger in hand.”
Sanho smiled like he’d caught on.
“Ah. And then the Inspectorate strings him up?”
“Hard to say. More likely they’ll shatter his dantian and drag him to a camp. For him, that’s the worse hell.”
“Good. Still, a man wearing the Martial Alliance name taking bribes and shirking duty—shouldn’t we file a protest with the Appointments Office? Why is it that every branch chief we meet is crooked?”
Jeok Se-in let out a faint laugh.
“Because we look for those places.”
“…Ah. That’s true.”
Sanho nodded to himself like he understood, then noticed two natives beside them, mouths slightly open, staring. He grinned as if nothing were amiss.
“Oh, you were there? You two said you speak the Central Plains tongue, right? Then what you just heard is a secret.”
Having learned Gwak Seon’s future against their will, Red Wind and Sad Wolf managed a nod. The Martial Alliance people who had come without being summoned seemed very kind—and very cold.
Jeok Se-in turned her head to the two of them.
“The dead and the hireblades will be taken by Branch Chief Gwak and Alliance members. I heard one among them can’t be identified—the one who fought the swordsman Jang.”
Red Wind understood who she meant and led the two patrol officers to the edge of the village. He was taking them to the corpse of Dang Gyeonsang, who had died by beheading. It lay in the shade at the outskirts alongside the dead hireblades. They hadn’t buried them; they’d only laid a white cloth over each.
Pointing among the bodies, Red Wind indicated a corpse where, even with a cloth over it, head and body were plainly separate. Jeok Se-in confirmed with Red Wind that this was the one, then stripped the cloth away without hesitation.
A pale head and body in black clothes came into view. Sanho grimaced—“Ugh”—and yet squatted and checked the severed head and torso minutely.
Arms folded, Jeok Se-in watched and asked Red Wind and Sad Wolf:
“What name did he give?”
“Dang… Dang Geomsan? Dang Gyeonsang? Probably Dang Gyeonsang.”
Red Wind scratched his head—he’d been rousing warriors and keeping his own breath steady at the time and hadn’t heard clearly—but Sad Wolf answered. Jeok Se-in kept going.
“He threw concealed weapons and used poison?”
“The poison was a bluff. We learned that thanks to Jang Geon.”
“So only the swordsman caught on… Did you see him throw concealed weapons?”
Sad Wolf shook her head.
“No. When I got there I saw blades rolling on the ground, this headless corpse, and Jang Geon. That was it.”
“Hm…”
While Jeok Se-in rubbed her chin, Sanho finished looking over the body and dusted off his hands, still crouched, and glanced up at her.
“…This is odd. Surname Dang, skilled with throwers, slick at deceiving people. From the corpse he looks like a demonic practitioner steeped in demonic arts. Then could this be…?”
“The Tang Clan?”
Sanho’s face tightened a shade. He forced a smile.
“Come on—would he really be one of that house? The Imperial Army wiped them out a hundred years ago… It’s got to be a coincidence.”
“And that’s about when the New Continent was found. If some survived and fled across the sea, it makes sense.”
“…If so, why would he announce his own name so boldly? With that surname and that skill, anyone would think of the Tang Clan.”
Jeok Se-in turned and met Sad Wolf’s eyes.
“Because he was that confident. He meant to leave no one alive. Not even his fellow hireblades. Except… the swordsman Jang was here.”
Sanho opened and closed his mouth in dismay, then eased to his feet.
“You truly think that mad clan’s been reborn? Then… this sounds like something we report to the Alliance as top priority…”
Jeok Se-in kept looking at Sad Wolf as she answered.
“No need to make a fuss. We don’t have hard proof. He could be someone inspired by old Tang Clan tales. But we will file the report on him as a demonic practitioner using demonic arts.”
Sad Wolf met her gaze quietly, head tilted a touch, then suddenly asked:
“Do you know Jang Geon well?”
“You mean the swordsman Jang? I can’t say I know him well.”
“So you don’t know him well, but you do know him?”
“…Yes.”
Sad Wolf’s eyes lit.
“Then do you know where he went?”
Seeing that sparkle, Jeok Se-in was at a loss for words for a moment, then smiled, apologetic.
“That I don’t know. I didn’t expect to hear about him here in the first place.”
“I see…”
At that, Sad Wolf drooped. Red Wind patted her shoulder and said to Jeok Se-in:
“We’re grateful to you both. We thought we’d have to go find you, but you came yourselves and settled the matter.”
“We only did our job.”
With enough for their report, Jeok Se-in and Sanho left the valley tribe before full dark. Riding down the mountain path, Jeok Se-in suddenly reined in and looked back. Sad Wolf stood outside the village, watching the sunset.
Sanho, who had pulled up beside her, said:
“That swordsman, Jang Geon—doesn’t look like he helped them for free.”
“Why?”
“Because he took that girl’s heart. There aren’t many things worth more.”
Jeok Se-in snorted and gave Sanho a look that said, Don’t be ridiculous. Sanho only lifted a shoulder and grinned.
“Cut the nonsense. Let’s go.”
Even as the two of them left the valley, Sad Wolf stood there, still watching the far-off sunset.
****
The sun sank into the horizon and lit Jang Geon’s face in red.
He sat cross-legged atop a high rock with his eyes closed. Below, Jojo—untied—scratched the ground and cropped dry grass to pass the time. Jang had ridden all day yesterday, left the mountains and forests, and reached the prairie; he saw no people, not even animals.
But inside him things were lively, roiling—like a storm penned inside a teacup.
The Spirit bead the valley’s Spirit had given him was a crystallization of pure energy. No complication, no special pattern—just a tiny bead of tightly packed power. It was also the very shape of the elixirs many in the martial world dream of.
Normally, a spirit beast’s inner core—or an elixir refined from it—couldn’t simply be eaten. Along with pure energy, an inner core was loaded with fierce toxins; toss it straight into your mouth and your organs could fail—and in the worst case you died.
Even an elixir with the toxins neutralized could scatter through the body if you weren’t ready, never converting that energy into inner energy. If it scattered, your health might improve a little, but you lost two-thirds of the inner-energy benefit. Having an elixir didn’t make taking it easy.
Jang ate it anyway. He didn’t think the Spirit would hand him something reeking with poison, and he was excited—this was the first thing he’d call a true elixir. Back in the Central Plains, thanks to a wealthy family, he’d tasted ginseng. Nothing like this.
Once in his mouth, the Spirit bead melted and, rather than drop down his gullet, rode his blood-and-energy through his whole body, then entered the dantian and re-gathered into the form of a bead. Jang promptly roused his inner energy and sent it racing through the Eight Extraordinary Meridians and the Twelve Meridians.
The inner energy he had grown, slowly and solidly since childhood, accepted the sudden foreign energy without trouble. Jang wrapped and dissolved the power that kept jutting off or trying to scatter. Under his guidance, the energy turned like dense silk—like hard steel—ran the channels of his body, punched through turbid collateral points, and tempered his pathways.
The bead didn’t unravel itself in one go. It melted only to the degree Jang could bear. The rest froze again like ice and stopped at the center of the dantian. About half. The remainder didn’t look like it would take long to melt.
The instant the bead froze, a light wave pulsed out from Jang on the rock and swept the dust back. Jojo lifted his head to stare at him.
Four hours later Jang’s eyes flashed open; the clear light in them flickered and settled.
Watching the sinking sun as he sat, a faint smile touched his lips.
“The elixir is good.”
Satisfied with his inner-energy training, Jang dropped from the rock and swung into Jojo’s saddle. At the light weight settling behind his back and the heels nudging his sides, Jojo shook his head and set off at a brisk little step. If he meant to find a village before night, Jang should have urged him faster, yet he was unhurried. He even whistled.
A carefree whistler and a lazy horse went on like that, unhurried across the prairie, looking for a village.