Chapter 50: The Wind Begins to Blow (5)

The air in the Chief Steward’s office went winter-cold.

A flicker of discomposure crossed Tae Gyeong’s face.

“W-what do you mean?”

Crack.

Yeon Hojeong crushed the teacup. He’d shattered it barehanded, yet not a mark marred his skin.

At the threatening display, Tae Gyeong swallowed without meaning to.

“At first, I only found it curious.”

Yeon Hojeong opened his hand.

Rattle, patter.

The broken shards rained down.

“As a rule, when you plant a spy in another organization, you follow three laws. One: a place that doesn’t draw eyes. Two: a position that doesn’t draw eyes. Three: a personality that doesn’t draw eyes.”

Tae Gyeong’s pupils trembled.

He was the sort who could keep a straight face if lightning struck at his feet, trained to the marrow. But not now.

The First Young Master was calling him a spy to his face. The light in that young man’s eyes was lightning-bright and magma-hot.

He couldn’t tell if it was killing will or sheer majesty. The moment the cup broke, Tae Gyeong’s composure cracked with it, and Yeon Hojeong’s killing will slid cleanly into that fracture.

“A first-rate spy adheres to those laws to the letter. People don’t suspect the ones who don’t stand out. More organizations in the martial world than you can count have walked to their doom because of such spies.”

“......!!”

“But special-grade is different.”

Yeon Hojeong crooked a thumb toward himself.

“A special-grade spy presents the exact opposite profile. A personality that stands out, a conspicuous post, and a habit of lingering where eyes gather.”

“......!!”

“When a crisis hits, they’re the one anyone would suspect—yet they also hold a dozen ways to dodge suspicion. They know that if they slip the first arrow of doubt, they won’t be caught.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled.

Tae Gyeong couldn’t smile back.

“But you’re peculiar. Not first-rate, and hazy for special-grade. Your personality doesn’t stand out—but you hold a conspicuous office and work at the organization’s nerve center.”

“F-First Young Master! If you’re mistaking me for a spy—”

“Mistaking? I’m certain.”

“......!”

“At first, even I was at a loss. No matter how I looked, you weren’t Ming Clan. Then where? Besides the Ming, who else wanted to eat our main house?”

Unaware, Tae Gyeong clenched his thigh.

Ming Clan? What now? Were the Ming after this place too?!

Even at the brink, he stacked new information away—what to pass to his side if he managed to slip the noose. Instinct.

Yeon Hojeong let out a thin chuckle.

“Didn’t the Mo Yong Clan Lord tell you? That they’d joined hands with the Ming Clan?”

“......?!”

“Your craft is fairly refined. Looks like they raised you with some care. Easy to lop the tail if you’re caught, and if they deny you, that’s that—yes?”

“......!!”

“The Mo Yong Clan... how amusing. A backstab within a backstab? So our main house watched public feeling with its eyes closed while the jackals tore at each other behind the screen.”

Only now could Yeon Hojeong infer what had happened in the past.

Both the Mo Yong Clan and the Ming Clan set their sights on the Yeon Clan.

Not separately. The Yeon Clan wasn’t a house one organization could swallow alone—least of all a house of the Seven Great Clans, bristling with enemies.

So the Ming and the Mo Yong joined hands. Break the Yeon Clan and split Jiangsu down the middle.

In the past, Yeon Wi opposed the business proposal to the end.

So the Ming stepped in. If a house wouldn’t be won by cajolery, then sweep it by force and take it—the most barbaric choice, and the most effective.

What astonished him was the Mo Yong’s choice.

The Ming Clan’s vanishing without a rat or bird knowing likely bore the Mo Yong’s hand.

A house with only a brief history that nonetheless seized the glory of “Greatest Under Heaven.”

Of course, even the Mo Yong alone would have struggled to bury them. But that they played a leading role is sure. If not, who would call the Mo Yong “Greatest Under Heaven”?

In the end, everyone was had by the Mo Yong Clan.

“That’s the world. Call it Demonic Path or Orthodox, paint it black or white, it all turns out the same. The decent get trampled, the wicked fatten their bellies.”

“.......”

“Which makes the Mo Yong Clan Lord truly something, doesn’t it? You don’t look like a decent man yourself—so what faith did he sell you that you’d stake your life like this?”

Yeon Hojeong’s grin showed teeth.

“What—did he promise that when he seizes the world, you’ll stand at his side and look down on all things?”

Cold sweat slid from Tae Gyeong’s nape.

“I—I truly don’t understand what you’re saying, First Young Master...”

“I figured.”

Yeon Hojeong fixed him with a stare and called out:

“Rear Beggar.”

Slip.

Tae Gyeong jolted.

He had no idea when the man had arrived. Ga Deoksang stood arms folded at the shadowed shelf in the corner of the Chief Steward’s office.

“ Tsk. I’d rather not step into another house’s family fight.”

The eyes he leveled at Tae Gyeong were iron-cold.

“But the work was filthy enough I lost all taste for the fee.”

Yeon Hojeong held out his hand. Ga Deoksang placed a neatly folded letter on his palm.

Tae Gyeong’s eyes shook wide.

How—?!

It was a letter sent to the Mo Yong Clan through the Tongcheon Corps.

The problem was, it wasn’t in the Yeon Clan’s name. After long years as the Yeon Clan’s Chief Steward, he’d made a few Tongcheon Corps men his own.

“You wrote it in cipher. Fairly intricate—but not hard to read.”

Darkness closed in on Tae Gyeong’s eyes.

If it were anyone else, perhaps not—but the Beggars’ Union would crack it in a blink. The larger the intelligence arm, the higher the grade of its codebreakers.

The Beggars’ Union sat atop the Orthodox intelligence world—a vast body with more first-class codebreakers than one could count.

Yeon Hojeong flicked the letter.

“Enough shabby acting. Your facial muscles must be numb from hiding your heart this long.”

He was right.

With that ciphered letter exposed, denial was pointless. Even without it, he’d already failed to keep his face under control before Yeon Hojeong.

Damn it.

Tae Gyeong let out a breath.

“How did you know?”

A spark lit in Yeon Hojeong’s eyes. He’d been sure the man was a spy—but hadn’t expected him to admit it so readily.

“Know what, exactly?”

“I’m curious what moved you to suspect me.”

Yeon Hojeong snorted.

“Do I need to sit and think that through? I’m not a fool. You take one look and you know.”

A line that made most of the martial world into fools.

Tae Gyeong let out a crooked smile.

“So you won’t say.”

Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. And even if he spoke, he didn’t have the sort of past that made a story believable.

“You’re blander than I thought. I figured you’d deny to the end.”

“Even if I did, would you believe me?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s why I admitted it.”

Odd words. At least to Yeon Hojeong’s ear.

“I misread you. I took you for a tin-sword punk frantic to be Clan Lord.”

“The acting landed, then.”

“Fine acting. I aim to be a strategist, yet I couldn’t pierce the heart of a young man. Seems I have a ways to go.”

From the man’s tone, Yeon Hojeong felt a quiet pride.

Just as expected.

Tae Gyeong’s gaze deepened.

“You wouldn’t be moving alone. The Clan Lord knows, then.”

Years in service, yet he called him “Clan Lord” without a blink.

Shamelessness of that grade was first-rate. Even for a spy, this wasn’t easy.

Yeon Hojeong shook his head.

“My father doesn’t know.”

“In this situation, what’s the point of lying?”

“Exactly.”

Tae Gyeong knit his brow.

The Clan Lord doesn’t know?

He studied Yeon Hojeong’s face closely.

“...Is that true?”

“If you’ve hooked the fish, you scale it first. Why waste time bandying jokes?”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

A chilly smile touched Yeon Hojeong’s mouth.

Seeing it, Tae Gyeong realized in a flash.

“You—your ambition to be Clan Lord was real!”

“I wouldn’t expect a man who’s played spy near ten years to fall for a false note.”

Tae Gyeong sighed low.

“My conceit brought this to pass. I saw the essence, yet let myself be fooled by the painted face.”

Whatever help he’d had, the prime mover here was Yeon Hojeong.

In short, he’d unmasked a spy and proved his own ability. Not telling anyone was for that reason.

Even as he sighed, Tae Gyeong rejoiced.

You idiot.

The Clan Lord didn’t know?

If he knew, Tae Gyeong might still claw a way out. If he didn’t, it would be easier. Inwardly, Tae Gyeong couldn’t help a sneer at Yeon Hojeong’s greed.

Yeon Hojeong rose.

“Thank you for being a paving stone for my future.”

Tae Gyeong glared up, eyes venom-bright.

“Be careful. The greedy always blunder from places they never imagined.”

“That’s what the ones who lack greed say.”

“‘Under a tiger father, a cur for a son,’ was it? Seems the saying fits.”

“Not words I care to hear from a runt of a spy.”

Yeon Hojeong jerked his chin at the door.

“Walk out, or be dragged?”

Moments later, ringed by warriors, Tae Gyeong was taken toward the dungeon.

Watching his back, Yeon Hojeong spoke.

“Rear Beggar.”

“Say the word.”

“Tell my father this: we’ll handle the aftermath—so he can enjoy his time catching up.”

****

Screee.

The solitary cell’s door opened.

Thud.

Tae Gyeong toppled inside. It was a narrow room, barely enough for one man to lie down.

The Law Blade Pavilion Master’s eyes were savage.

“I never imagined you would do this.”

Tae Gyeong lay as he’d fallen, back turned. Staring only at the wall, he looked, at a glance, beyond worldly ties.

“With that brazen face, you toyed with us?”

“.......”

“Nothing to say?”

“.......”

Tae Gyeong gave no answer.

Snorting through his nose, the Law Blade Pavilion Master let fall a cold line:

“You will not die cleanly.”

He slammed the cell door.

Bang!

The steel shook with the force.

And so Tae Gyeong was left alone in the solitary cell where only a meager moon-beam seeped.

“.......”

How much time passed?

Eyes closed, seated, Tae Gyeong spoke.

“Listener.”

A voice answered from beyond the little window.

“Speaker.”

“Xuan-Heaven, Vast-Heaven.”

“Vast-Heaven.”

Clink.

A small, black key slipped through the little window.

It was too dark to see where it fell. Feeling along the floor, Tae Gyeong finally found it.

Good.

From here, it was simple. With the key, he felt along the wall opposite the door.

Lower left point, up three, right two.

No matter how well-made, a dungeon’s stone has seams.

But he wasn’t hunting any old gap. He needed the iron slot that fit this tiny key exactly.

Click. Click-click.

Darkness made the fit clumsy.

Cold sweat ran down his brow. He’d practiced this dozens of times when no one watched, but in the real thing his hands weren’t as sure.

Hoo.

He stilled himself and probed again.

A moment later—

Vmmm.

A section at the center of the floor sank away.

Even as the ground dropped, it made no sound. With a silent cry of delight, Tae Gyeong slipped into the opening.

Srrrk.

Once he was through, the floor slid back into place.

The solitary cell stood empty.