Chương 14: Silk and Stone

Mu-cheon's hands fell to his side in shock. He didn't know how to respond, or what else to do, other than to back away from her slowly. Chae-ha wasn't describing a person when she spoke about herself; she was describing a bankrupt balance sheet. The young girl's own personal book of accounts, written on her soul with indelible black ink. The Inner Disciple picked up his Dae-jik-do and turned to leave, sliding the blade into the holster on his back as he did. He glanced at her one last time before striding off.

"Consider your debt to me, at least, forgiven. I was never looking for repayment in the first place." And with that, the young man was gone. Mu-cheon's words sent a shiver down Chae-ha's spine. What use am I if I can't even partially repay your kindness?! she wanted to scream after him. My debts are all I have; if they are just… forgiven, then I truly become nothing. But the words never managed to make their way past her lips. Instead, she collapsed onto the ground in a sobbing heap.

After a while, Chae-ha dragged herself up and back to her room. The young girl sat on the floor and began redoing the stitching holding her robes together to calm herself. It took a while to re-establish the safe, protective mask she usually wore, but eventually her breathing slowed and a semblance of normalcy returned. By the time she finished with the new stitches, her heartbeat had returned to its usual rhythm. The next day, Mu-cheon was not there for their regular afternoon training session.

Chae-ha did her best to practice alone, before descending once more into the Lower Laboratory later that evening. A blast of chilled air and the scent of vinegar greeted her as she opened the door and walked into the room. For the last few days, she had been working on adding a final, fifth type of strike to her Cham-jeom-sul – and Chae-ha was eager to lose herself in the research once more. Better that than dealing with the confusion in her head and the pain in her heart.

"I guess it's just you and me now," the young Inspector whispered to the corpse in front of her. Less than a week later, Chae-ha's first opportunity to leave the sect in more than five years arrived. It was finally the day that Elder Ma would be leading the diplomatic convoy south from Tai'an, and she joined the small group from the main sect that was heading out to meet him. Mu-cheon led their small party through the Seuk-hu – the Stone Throat.

The secret passage, located just south of the Disciplinary Court, was a natural, lightless fissure in the granite, narrow enough that it required the sect members to walk in single file. The young man neither spoke to nor acknowledged Chae-ha as he blazed the trail ahead. When the group emerged onto the southern face of Mt. Tai, the world expanded into a staggering, vertical panorama.

The public "front" of the mountain was a living monument, dominated by the Central Path: a formation of nearly seven thousand stone steps that connected the Jade Emperor Peak to the city below. Unlike the lonely, jagged spires of their home, this side of the mountain was alive with the clatter of pilgrims' wooden staves and the distant, melodic tolling of temple bells. The party continued to follow a rough, rocky trail that meandered past groups of ancient pines.

Eventually, their path converged with the main trail, and they fell in behind a handful of travelers who seemed to be heading back down. As they descended the steps together, the city of Tai'an began to materialize through the morning haze. After years of being surrounded by monochromatic stone, their first sight of the city caused an immediate sensory overload.

Thousands of curved roofs, roofed in a mottled mixture of dark ceramic and warm terracotta tiles, sat atop buildings made of painted timber and sunbaked clay. The procession of buildings rippled away from the foot of the mountain, forming an endless red-and-yellow expanse that blanketed the natural landscape beneath them. The closer they came, the more details began to come into focus.

Brightly colored flags, awnings, and rugs highlighted occasional marketplaces, making the expanse look like a quilt stitched together from vibrant, mosaic patchwork. The distant shouting of street vendors, the discordant clanging of coppersmiths, and the clickety-clack of wagon wheels all gradually filled the air, mixing unintelligibly with the chaotic chiming of a hundred different bells. By the time they reached the Tai'an branch, the air had grown thick with the scents of horse manure and incense.

The enormous complex was constructed of red lacquered timber and decorated with welcoming banners, all beneath a canopy of brilliant green roof tiles. It was designed to operate as the public face of the sect, and to project wealth, power, and stability. Elder Ma Cheol-mi greeted them upon arrival. The sharp, angular features of the man's face parted a torrent of long, wavy, black hair that cascaded down his back.

As he moved, his High Elder's robes flowed softly over a thin form that somehow hinted at being chiseled and hard underneath. When the Diplomacy Elder spoke, the group quickly discovered that the man's most surprising feature was his voice – soft and reassuring, like the pleasant babble of a mountain stream.

"Honored guests, please allow me to welcome you as the head of the Tai'an branch. Our disciples have just finished preparing the wagons for the journey, so your timing is excellent." The elder offered the room a small smile, the expression sitting on his face like a weathered crack in ancient stone.

"Also, I would like to share some cautionary news. We've received word that an Imperial Salt and Iron Commissioner has arrived in Yangliu." Elder Ma paused to give that information a moment to sink in.

"It seems the visitor has been quite active over the past few days. Please do your utmost not to interfere with or offend him. We may rule this peak, but the Emperor commands a might that makes even Mt. Tai look small. I ask that you please keep this in mind during our visit." The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. An hour later, the convoy departed Tai'an.

Chae-ha's legs were still aching from the long trip down the stairs of the Central Path, and she found herself deeply grateful for being able to sit in one of the supply wagons. The young Inspector reviewed the plan in her head once again. Three decoy wagons were spread throughout the wagons at the back of the convoy, with a contingent of guards strategically placed to watch over each of them – close enough to keep an eye out, but not so close as to rouse suspicion.

The first dummy wagon, located closest to the rear guards and farthest from Mu-cheon, was associated with Manager Song. The second rolled along further ahead, in the middle of the supply carts, and reflected the location given to Head Clerk Rim. The final dummy wagon, the location of which was given to Manager Jo, was at the front of the supply train. As soon as an attack struck any of the wagons, the contingents of men guarding them would ring the alarm bells and swarm the intruder.

The signal would propagate down the convoy, alerting Elder Ma. Regardless of the location struck, waves of guards would come crashing down on the culprit from both sides. Even if the target was exceptionally skilled, once Elder Ma arrived, the fight would be over. Meanwhile, Mu-cheon would remain safely in the vanguard the entire time. The plan felt iron-clad, but not knowing exactly when the violence might break out left Chae-ha feeling anxious.

Every tree branch and long shadow the convoy passed felt like it could contain an enemy. She fidgeted with the new leather patch in her palm to distract herself. The soft leather square was attached to a thick linen loop that encircled her middle finger. The young girl's work in the Lower Laboratory had taught her that while most of her targets could be hit with her signature wrist flick, some – especially amongst the joint and tendon strikes – required more force.

The pad allowed her to brace the end of a needle against her palm, so she could drive it deep and fast without hurting herself when she inevitably hit bone. The day wound on, and as the sun began to dip behind the western ridges, the scenery transformed. The fertile plains south of Tai'an gave way to the rugged, pine-covered slopes of Mt. Culai. After a while, the road dipped into a deep, secluded basin on the mountain's southeast side, where the first stop of their journey awaited.

The convoy made its way through a weathered gatehouse. Carved into the stone above their heads were the characters for "Guanghua Monastery," carefully highlighted with crimson paint. Beyond the archway, the path narrowed into a winding corridor of history. Chae-ha stepped out of the wagon and into a book of scripture. The foot trail leading to the monastery was lined with boulders of every shape and size, each one engraved with Buddhist Sutras.

The ancient teachings had been carved directly into the granite, carefully positioned so they could advertise their wisdom to all who passed by. The monastery itself rose from the end of the path like a fortress. The central Mahavira Hall dominated the basin, surrounded on each side by a book-matched array of lesser temples. What caught Chae-ha's eye, however, was not the architecture; it was the single, massive boulder standing sentinel in the main courtyard.

The carefully flattened chunk of granite was completely covered with deep engravings, all painted brilliant red. They were the words of the Great Prajna Sutra, detailing the seventeen kinds of emptiness. As the evening deepened, an elderly monk led Chae-ha up a series of steps to a terrace containing a modest guest house. Unlike Mu-cheon's room, which had been specifically chosen for security, her room was barely an afterthought.

But being on the periphery came with a surprising benefit: access to a breathtaking view. The young girl looked out her window, where her gaze was drawn across the vast, darkening valley to a minor peak in the east. There, illuminated by the final whispers of twilight, another towering boulder glowed with a faint, ghostly sheen. Four large characters were carved above many smaller ones, all painted the same deep vermillion.

They read "Perfection of Wisdom" – the title of the Prajna Paramita, which described the interconnected nature of all existence. Chae-ha couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to live as one of these monks. To be certain she had all the answers. To believe in something so unquestioningly that she could find peace just by spending her entire life carving it into stone. Ma Cheol-mi watched with gratitude as the young monk who had led him to the Abbot's den walked away.

This upcoming negotiation was the entire reason the convoy had paid a visit to the monastery; it needed to be treated with the utmost care and respect. The Diplomacy Elder took a deep breath and put on his most charming smile before opening the door.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Abbot. I am Ma Cheol-mi, High Elder of the Tai-shan sect. Thank you for agreeing to see me." The Abbot was ancient. His stark white hair curled around the top of his stunted form like leaves on a gnarled ginkgo tree. Despite his age, the man's eyes were clear, and his voice was deep and steady.

"Tell me why the Tai-shan sect has come knocking on our door. I somehow doubt it is in pursuit of enlightenment." The Diplomacy Elder bowed.

"Of course, Abbot. To get straight to the point – the Meng-shan have been seizing territory in the Laiwu valley. Although unlikely, if they ever do manage to break through our forces there, your monastery will almost certainly be next. Their ultimate goal is to take Tai'an, so Mt. Culai is of great tactical significance to them." The Abbot cocked his head slightly.

"And?"

"And... we wish to prevent that eventuality. With an alliance! Allow us to station some guards here, to fend off the Meng-shan, should they ever arrive." The High Elder renewed his encouraging smile.

"With protection from Tai-shan swords, your monks can continue their sacred duty of carving the Sutras – without fear of being driven from their homes by those who would use this place as a staging ground for war. And furthermore..." He paused, lowering his voice to a respectful whisper.

"The Tai-shan sect recognizes that engraving the Dharma is a costly endeavor. To show our sincerity, we are prepared to offer a donation of five hundred silver taels – to ensure that your chisels never run dull for lack of funds." The ancient man looked at Elder Ma for a long moment, his gaze drifting from the elder's silk robes to the jade rings on his fingers, before slowly shaking his head.

"You ask us to trade a potential occupation by the Meng-shan for a certain one by you. We are here to contemplate the Dharma, not to choose sides in a conflict between men." The Abbot looked directly into the Diplomacy Elder's eyes, his voice hardening.

"When the end comes for us, it comes. No matter what schemes you try, man's greed will cause the downfall of this world. A few repositioned swords on a cliffside won't change that. And your silver can't buy us more permanence than we've already found in stone." Elder Ma didn't let the dismissal faze him.

"We are more alike than you may think! The Tai-shan sect was entrusted with the sacred task of securing the route to the Jade Emperor Peak – by Emperor Tang Taizong himself. We take that duty seriously. I promise this will not be an occupation; it will be a partnership. If you work together with us, we can both continue to fulfill our great callings."

"The one you now call Tang Taizong – who gifted your ancestors the lands once belonging to our great patron – died without ever fulfilling his dream. And for nearly four hundred years, your sect has sat upon that mountain like a sad watchdog, waiting for a master who will never return." The Abbot paused before continuing, his expression grave.

"We carved the truth of the universe into granite, to ensure the Buddha's revelations last as long as this mountain. But you? You took a promise between men, inked it onto silk – and expected it to last forever." The ancient man grunted dismissively.

"If you wish to fight a war over iron and timber, do so in the Laiwu valley. If you wish to guard a peak for an Emperor, stay on Mt. Tai. This monastery is Guanghua; it has seen empires rise and fall, and it does not care what happens to yours."