Chương 2: The Culling

In the relative safety of the carriage, Chae-ha's tears finally began to fall. Her whole body shook as she pulled up her knees and sobbed into the fabric of her robes, darkening the material with jagged lines of moisture. The weight of the silver hairpin in her sleeve only served to remind her of everything she had lost. The elder who had rescued her watched silently from across the carriage. He sat with perfect posture, his back straight, his arms folded in front of him.

He made no move to comfort her, but his expression softened slightly as he watched her outpouring of pain. Chae-ha cried until the well of tears finally began to run dry. Eventually, her head rose just enough to peek out above her knees, revealing features that were red and swollen. She licked lips gone painfully dry, as if all the moisture had finished leaving her body, and tasted the remnants of salty tears. Her voice shook slightly as she struggled to speak.

"Are you…going to tell me your name?"

"My name is Gwak Mun-su. But you may call me Elder Gwak. I am the High Elder in charge of the Archives." An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them, filled primarily with the bumps and jostles of the moving carriage. After an extended period of refusing to speak, Chae-ha finally met the elder's eyes again, and asked the question that was really on her mind.

"Who…were those people?"

"They were Geom-bu-sa, low-level martial artists who serve as inspectors, appraisers, and debt collectors. They work for an organization called the Black Ink Consortium." Chae-ha looked down again, the memory of almost being taken by them still vivid in her mind. It was a while before she gathered the courage to speak again.

"My father…planned all this?"

"Your father sent a letter, several weeks ago, asking us to acknowledge the impending dissolution of the Han family – and to fulfill our legal obligations towards the remaining family members. I agreed, and at his request, wrote an order to formalize it."

"He forced the sect to take me in," she summarized bitterly, still shaking slightly, "in order to protect me from the debt collectors." Elder Gwak nodded sharply once. Another round of relative silence ensued, underscored by the constant clacking of hooves. As it did, a particularly violent jostle of the carriage knocked Chae-ha off balance, causing the phoenix hairpin to fall out of her sleeve and go scattering across the floorboards.

She scrambled to retrieve it, clutching the trinket to her chest as she returned to her seat, as if still afraid that someone might try to take it away. Breathing deeply in an attempt to calm herself, the young girl asked another question.

"Couldn't he have…enrolled me in the sect the normal way?"

"Our vassalage contract only provides for the first-born son of each generation to be accepted as a disciple. All others must pay the entrance fee." Elder Gwak looked at her levelly.

"Even wealthy families find those fees burdensome. Han Sa-ryang had no hope of purchasing your entry. As a result, he chose to use a different currency." Chae-ha's mouth dropped open at the matter-of-fact way the elder made that statement. The sect wouldn't help them… because they couldn't pay the entry fee?! A new, unfamiliar emotion began to build in her chest: anger. Not at the sect, or the debt collectors, or even herself.

Anger at the entire world, for daring to be a place that was so broken, unjust, and cruel. She let the feeling simmer for a moment before speaking again.

"So, what happens now?" she asked, her voice still soft but growing stronger.

"You will enter the Tai-shan sect as an Outer Disciple and learn our martial arts." Elder Gwak glanced at her slight form, noting her thin, feminine wrists and trembling hands.

"Normally you would join the Training Hall, but I will be honest with you – female disciples are rare within our sect, and the training there is physically demanding. If you wish, I am willing to accept you into the Archives instead." Chae-ha didn't answer right away, as she continued to contemplate the small ember of rage beginning to burn within her. The young girl begged it to grow, to please fill the hollow emptiness inside of her with anything resembling warmth.

"There is no need to make your decision here and now. You may have a few days to think about it, if you would like." Chae-ha paused one last time. She took the silver hairpin in her fingers and pressed the sharp tip into her palm, relishing the pain because it meant being able to feel something different. Then she gathered up her hair and slid the accessory back into its rightful place above her braids.

"No. I don't need time to think about it. I'll join the Training Hall. After all…" Chae-ha's voice dropped to a whisper, as she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.

"I have a debt to pay." The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Several hours later, the road began to steeply incline, causing the carriage to slow to a crawl. After a while the vehicle finally lurched to a halt, signaling their arrival at the threshold of the sect. Elder Gwak opened the door to the carriage, and Chae-ha stepped out into an imposing world of vertical stone.

Dominating the mountain pass before her were two colossal pillars of black granite, so dark they seemed to swallow the afternoon light. The enormous, angular stone slabs had been carved to taper aggressively as they rose, and jagged veins of white quartz ran through them, adding texture and contrast. The inner surfaces of the pillars were perfectly book-matched and impossibly smooth. It looked as though a giant's blade had descended from the heavens and struck a single block of stone, cleaving it in two.

An expert might have noticed subtle hints of the truth behind the illusion, such as the faint marks of chisels and the slight upwards swelling where the pillars had been anchored beneath the ground. But to Chae-ha, it seemed impossible that such a thing existed. Straddling the gap near the top of the ominous columns was a huge crossbeam made entirely of dark iron. Inset into the beam were three ornate metal plates, weathered by decades of exposure to the mountain storms.

Each plate was embossed with a single character; taken together, they read: 泰 (Tai) – 山 (Shan) – 門 (Mun) The Mt. Tai Sect. Far from welcoming guests, this gate was designed to make people feel small and vulnerable. It was a man-made testament to the idea that with enough dedication, even the heart of a mountain could be severed. The sight sent shivers down Chae-ha's spine.

As she tried to look up through the V-shaped opening, the tapering walls of the gate seemed to funnel the entire sky towards a single narrow point at the bottom, where a line of stone bricks led between the pillars and towards the interior of the sect. Elder Gwak strode confidently in front of her, beckoning for her to follow him down the passageway. With some trepidation, she set her feet upon the path.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, the passage opened up into a mountain basin, with the true heart of the sect nestled inside. The grounds were wide open and clean, composed of large stone courtyards, rectangular training fields, plazas, and the orderly network of paths that linked them all together. Buildings were primarily arranged around the perimeter of the open areas, presumably to leave sight-lines unobstructed.

Chae-ha made note of a wide variety of structures, including some imposing ones that were likely martial halls, some smaller ones that may have been private residences, and a towering, multi-tiered pagoda that was almost certainly the Archives. To the south, the imposing figure of Mt. Tai loomed, its broad expanse straining towards the heavens and splitting the clouds.

The view of the mountain's back was nothing like what tourists at the main branch in Tai'an would see; unlike the front of the mountain, there wasn't a staircase, pilgrim, or toll collector in sight. Instead, nearly vertical cliffs stretched on almost endlessly, occasionally interrupted by rugged landings that sometimes managed to support a bush or a tree.

Enormous cracks ran down the exposed, multi-colored granite that served as the mountain's bones, as if a war between giants had covered the surface with battle scars. The air within the sect hummed with the distant crack of wooden swords and the united chanting of disciples. Elder Gwak led Chae-ha towards a short, long building that the young girl assumed was a barracks.

"Seeing as you are currently the only female disciple of your age, you will have sole occupancy of a dormitory cell in the East Wing. You should be grateful; normally, Outer Disciples sleep five to a room." Elder Gwak stopped before a thick oaken door and pushed it open. The room on the other side was plain, but functional. Five empty beds were arranged in a line, with a small chest at the foot of each. A tiny window near the top of the wall let in a sliver of light, alongside a draft of cold mountain air.

There was a desk in the corner, on which sat a small bronze mirror, a book, and an unlit candle. On one of the beds lay a bundle of heavy, off-white fabric – the uniform of an Outer-Disciple-in-training. It was made of raw hemp, accented by sharp lines of black trim along the edges.

"You have three days to mourn," Elder Gwak informed her, his eyes lingering for a moment on the silver hairpin above her braid.

"On the fourth morning, you will report to the Northern Plaza. There, you will join the new intake of disciples for their first lesson in fundamentals." The Archive Elder paused, forcing his voice to sound aloof as he continued.

"Do not be late. The Training Elder, Jung Do-kwon, is not known for being merciful to those who lack discipline." As he spoke, Chae-ha walked over to the desk and examined the thin manual lying atop it. Inside the front cover was a folded leaf of paper, which turned out to contain a rough, hand-drawn map of the sect. The young girl glanced at it briefly before folding it back into place.

"I'll be there." The Archive Elder nodded. Once he had taken his leave, Chae-ha lit the candle on the desk and stared at the rough, off-white uniform. She didn't know how to tie all the knots yet, but she decided to try it on anyways. Once she had finished dressing, her attention turned to her long Daenggi-meori braid. She knew it would be impractical for training, so she untied the ribbon at the bottom of the plait.

With a few quick movements, the young girl looped the long braid up near the nape of her neck, using the ribbon to bind it tightly. Hoping the bound hair and rough uniform would make her look like a warrior, Chae-ha sat down at the desk to appraise her new appearance. But all she saw reflected in the mirror was a frightened little girl in Sobok – traditional white mourning attire. Shivering, but not from the cold, she pulled the thin manual towards herself and opened it under the flickering candlelight.

She flipped through the first few pages, taking note of what seemed to be lists of bylaws, sect rules, and the words to chants such as Gazing Upon the Sacred Peak. Towards the back, her eyes landed on a complex table labeled "Daily Allotments." It outlined an itinerary of required activities, starting at dawn: physical conditioning. Chores. Drills. Scripture study. Even meditation. Her finger traced the timeline, and as it did, her forehead started to wrinkle.

One ke is about fifteen minutes, or a quarter of an hour. She did the sum in her head once, then twice. Eight ke for physical conditioning. Twenty ke for chores. Twelve for drills. Twelve for studying... add the meditation... She stopped. The math didn't work. No disciple would be able to complete every task listed here to the standard described. Once meals, transit times, and basic hygiene were accounted for, it barely left any time for sleep. Failure was essentially guaranteed.

This wasn't a training regimen – it was a culling. A ritual deliberately designed to identify and break the unworthy. Chae-ha's hand trembled as she blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. She removed her uniform and crawled onto the low mattress, still fully awake. Rather than trying to sleep, the young girl just lay there – calculating which parts of her humanity she would have to sacrifice to survive this.