Chương 32: Beautiful Treason

After almost two weeks of travel, the Survey Team had finally reached the provincial capital of Jinan. The staging grounds they had set up on the outskirts were filled with a chaotic tangle of braying pack mules, shouting Ministry officials, and overstuffed supply carts. Standing at the edge of the commotion, Yan Shu watched as the delegation divided itself. The bulk of the expedition – the architects, the surveyors, and most of the clerks – were preparing to march south towards Tai'an.

Their mandate was to spend the next two months assessing infrastructure: measuring road widths, determining bridge capacities, and planning a route for the eventual Imperial procession. The young Collator, however, was not going with them. His mandate was much more specific, and far more delicate. He was accompanying a smaller group of senior officials, answering the direct summons of Sect Leader Kang Hyeon-je. That meant going up the mountain. Which in turn meant they needed a guide.

And thanks to the pretentious title the Head Librarian had bestowed upon him for this trip – Chief Secretarial Envoy – the dubious honor of hiring one had fallen to him.

"Collator Yan! I'm pleased to see you're still in good health." Yan Shu turned to see a middle-aged man practically sprinting across the staging ground. Behind him marched a small troop of Tai-shan Outer Disciples. The man was almost certainly Patriarch Yeon, the head of a minor Tai-shan vassal family that ran a local escort agency here in Jinan. His group had a good reputation.

"My men and I are profoundly honored to be escorting an Imperial commission," the Patriarch beamed, gesturing proudly behind himself.

"We're ready to leave at any time." Yan Shu looked past Patriarch Yeon to the dozen or so guards standing at attention. The young poet tilted his head. The men were outfitted in matching leather armor reinforced with steel plating. The metal was polished to a mirror shine. The leather straps looked stiff and uncreased. The hilts of their weapons were tightly wrapped in unblemished white leather, and the scabbards lacked a single scratch or notch.

Yan Shu pulled his writing brush from his sleeve and tapped it thoughtfully against his chin.

"Patriarch Yeon," the young poet said slowly.

"Does your agency specialize in inner-city parcel delivery?" The Agency Head blinked, his smile faltering.

"I…what? No, of course not. We're a proper fighting force. We've been running shipments across the entire province for over a decade."

"Have you?" Yan Shu asked, pointing the tip of his brush towards the guards.

"I only ask because there isn't a single nicked blade, torn robe, or frayed boot amongst you. It looks as though your men have never seen a day of combat in their lives." Embarrassment colored the Patriarch's cheeks a bright red.

"That would be my fault, Collator. This is my first time taking on an Imperial commission, so I ordered all new equipment for the men. I was hoping to impress, but maybe I misjudged what you were looking for." Yan Shu stared at him. The Imperial stipend for a local mountain guide was generous, but it certainly wasn't enough to outfit an entire troop. This seemed like a terrible financial decision.

"I see," Yan Shu said indifferently, eventually tucking his brush away. It was not his job to save foolish men from their own bluster.

"I appreciate your dedication to aesthetics, Patriarch Yeon. As long as your men won't balk at turning those very expensive, shiny new swords back into torn, nicked, and dirty ones, it makes no difference to me." Visibly relieved, Patriarch Yeon turned and began shouting orders to his men. A short time later, the small detachment finally began the long trek out of Jinan. The journey up the mountain took several hours.

As they left the bustling valleys behind and climbed higher into the jagged peaks, the air grew noticeably thinner and colder. The overwhelming atmosphere of the Tai-shan range began to press down on them long before they reached the imposing, black granite gate. Once they passed into the mountain basin that housed the main sect, the surprising scale of the martial city left the visiting bureaucrats in awed silence.

It was so different from the bustling capitol they were used to; wide open, but still humming with energy. The air was thin, cold, and filled with the sounds of wooden training swords and chanting disciples. The small group splintered almost immediately after its arrival. The administrative scribes and clerks practically scurried off towards the Archives, escorted by bulky Outer Disciples dressed in oxblood robes.

Patriarch Yeon bowed to Yan Shu one final time before happily departing to the Treasury, eager to present his Imperial writ and claim his payment. Yan Shu was left alone with a single, silent attendant, who motioned for him to follow. The young poet was led through the sprawling sect, past courtyards and gardens, until they finally reached the imposing structure of the Obsidian Palace. Once inside, the attendant guided him into a dimly lit antechamber.

"Please wait here, Collator Yan. I will inform the Sect Leader of your arrival." Yan Shu nodded, adjusting his sleeves one final time. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to meet the warlord – and to finally learn what, exactly, he was actually supposed to be doing here. In his father's private study within the Obsidian Palace, Mu-cheon folded his arms. He was trying to argue with the Sect Leader, but it was not going well.

"You know I'm right. The battlefield is no place for –" His complaint was interrupted by a rapid series of short knocks on the door. A hesitant attendant entered the room, practically pressing his forehead into the floor in prostration.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Sect Leader. But you requested to be notified when the Imperial procession arrived. Your guest is currently waiting in the antechamber." Sect Leader Kang Hyeon-je nodded and waved his hand dismissively.

"It is fine. We were done here, anyway. Send him in." Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. His nostrils flaring, Mu-cheon turned to face the Sect Leader.

"With all due respect, Sect Leader, I still don't think…" An iron look from Hyeon-je was enough to finally make his courage falter. The words he was trying to say trailed off, dying on his tongue. Mu-cheon squared up his shoulders to try again, but before he was able to redeem himself, the new guest arrived. While the attendant held the door for him, Yan Shu entered the room with a sweeping bow.

"My master sends his greetings, Sect Leader. I have come to assist with discharging his debt. Please let me know how I can be of service." Hyeon-je gave the young Collator an appraising look.

"I have heard of a generational talent emerging in Bianjing – a young man who has even caught the eye of the Emperor. Are the rumors true?" Yan Shu smiled ruefully.

"I'm not sure what specific rumors you may have heard, Sect Leader, but such talk does tend to be exaggerated."

"How humble," Hyeon-je muttered.

"That Ci arrangement that recently reached here from the capital, the one all the song girls are singing; I believe it begins, 'A single new song, a single cup of wine.' That was your work?"

"Well, yes, I suppose –""And did the Minister of Military Affairs really cry when he read your line about the moon's indifference to painful farewells?"

"Ah, some light glistening, perhaps –""And at your examination, when the Emperor personally descended and presented you with the final question to receive your rank. Did you really turn him down, and ask for a harder one?"

"Oh, yes…that. It was childish arrogance, my lord. Long since outgrown –" Hyeon-je snorted.

"That was one year ago. How much could you possibly have changed? I have one last question." The Sect Leader's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Suppose we received word that a force of ten-thousand professional soldiers was marching on this sect. That is roughly three times the number of disciples we can muster. What would you do?" Yan Shu blinked.

"Your pardon, Sect Leader?"

"Was I unclear?"

"Of course not, my lord. I was just momentarily surprised by the change of topic." Yan Shu bowed again, before straightening his back and standing tall. The young man had read every classical military treatise ever written. He pulled his writing brush from his sleeve and smacked the wooden end of it against his palm once, before answering the question with confidence.

"Sun Tzu's Art of War, Chapter Ten: 'You should occupy the raised spots, and there wait for him to come up.' And from the same chapter: 'With regard to narrow passes, if you can occupy them first, let them be strongly garrisoned and await the advent of the enemy.' The mountain paths are treacherous, and we are advantaged in combat as long as we hold them." Yan Shu began to pace, warming up to his own lecture.

"Furthermore, both Master Sun and Master Wu stress the importance of logistics. Wuzi Bingfa, Chapter 3: 'To command an army, provisions and food must be sufficient.' An army of that size cannot survive without local forage; so, we burn all the crops in the surrounding valleys before they can seize them. The more committed they are to the climb, the more quickly they will starve." The Collator stopped pacing and turned his head, raising a single finger.

"And finally, as General Li Weigong explained in his Questions and Replies: 'If the enemy is numerous and we are few, we must rely on the Unorthodox.' We conduct staggered raids in the night to bleed their morale and deny them sleep. Short on food and trapped within narrow mountain paths, they will make for easy targets." The young man swirled his brush in the air, capping off his strategy by quoting a classic line from the Six Secret Teachings.

"'One who excels in employing his forces can conquer a large army with a small one.' With proper preparation, a determined force can still emerge victorious – even when there is a sizable difference in numbers." Yan Shu finished his performance with a deep, theatrical bow. Hyeon-je nodded slowly, his face unreadable.

"I see," he said, turning to Mu-cheon.

"He will suffice. Disciple, please show the Collator our hospitality. And notify your young Inspector friend that the architect of her father's eulogy has arrived." Yan Shu's ears perked up at that. Finally, a hint! Mu-cheon looked up at his father darkly before sighing.

"As you command, Sect Leader." Reluctantly, the Inner Disciple headed out the door, beckoning for the young poet to follow. As they walked, Mu-cheon did his best to explain to Yan Shu exactly why he'd been summoned here from Bianjing. The young poet listened to the Inner Disciple's rambling, clumsy explanation, occasionally nodding to show that he understood. When they reached a quiet spot, he motioned for Mu-cheon to stop.

"So, to summarize: this friend of yours is being rewarded for her service to the sect. And as part of her reward, she requested a poet be brought here to write a eulogy for her father. Who died five years ago, but is now having his grave relocated?"

"Yes, that's right," Mu-cheon nodded.

"I know it's a little unusual, but that's the situation." Yan Shu paused, the tip of his brush meandering aimlessly through the air as his mind raced. The pieces he had gathered in the capital suddenly began fitting together. The Imperial prodigy tilted his head, his sharp eyes locking onto the towering martial artist.

"You know, Young Master," Yan Shu said casually, "Sect Leader Kang does not strike me as a sentimental man. Ever since you began your explanation, I have been trying to figure out why he would call in a priceless political favor just to secure a eulogy for a disgraced commoner."

"I told you: he is rewarding her for her service."

"Yes, but what service?" Yan Shu tapped the end of his brush against his chin.

"When I was assigned to this province, I pulled the most recent administrative files for the region in order to prepare. While reviewing them, I found a report regarding the death of an Imperial Commissioner at Yangliu. It was a masterpiece of bureaucratic fiction; a story backed up by a clear and compelling trail of evidence, all tied together with a flawless legal bow. The Ojak – the coroners – even cleared it all against the state of the bodies." Yan Shu leaned forwards, lowering his voice.

"But here is the interesting part. Before leaving Bianjing, I pulled the same local Magistrate's previous case files from the Imperial Library. The man can barely spell the word 'jurisdiction.' I don't believe for a moment that he was the one who wrote that report." Mu-cheon folded his arms in front of his chest.

"That report was certified by the Empire. I have nothing else to add."

"You don't need to," Yan Shu smiled, his eyes lighting up with genuine delight.

"I'm already quite sure I'm right. Someone else spoon-fed that dullard the evidence... and then stepped aside and let him take the credit. By the way, I did happen to notice the other stamps at the bottom of that scroll: yours, and also one tiny, little mark that said simply, 'Han.' That wouldn't happen to be Miss Han Chae-ha, now would it?" Mu-cheon's eyes darkened slightly. The young man clenched and unclenched his fists. He had no idea where the young poet was going with this, but it felt dangerous.

Still, this part was public information, so there was no use hiding it.

"Yes, she and I both stamped it. We were both important witnesses."

"I think she did more than just stamp it. No offense, Young Master, but I don't believe you wrote that report, either. Which leaves only her – receiving a mysterious reward." The young poet smiled broadly.

"Which, if we're being honest, does seem a little excessive. Why would the Sect Leader be personally indebted to a junior Inspector who did a good job?" Mu-cheon's hand twitched, unconsciously inching closer to the handle of his Dae-jik-do before he caught himself and lowered it.

"If we conclude that she wrote the report, and that doing so is the service for which she is being rewarded – it starts to look more and more like she covered something up." Yan Shu's eyes lit up with excitement.

"There's something missing from that report, isn't there? Something important. Whatever it was, she made it disappear. And that's why the Sect Leader is rewarding her. Personally."

"Absolutely not," Mu-cheon almost growled.

"And if you speak of this to anyone –""Speak of it? Why would I ruin such beautiful treason?" Yan Shu laughed softly, tucking his brush away.

"If, indeed, there is any treason going on. Young Master, I spend my life these days trapped in a library reading dry tax records. Being part of an actual, real-life conspiracy is the most exciting thing to have happened to me in years. Your secret is safe with me." The Imperial prodigy resumed walking, his eyes shining with anticipation.

"Rest assured, I fully understand the assignment, and I will complete it with gusto. Now, if you would be so kind…" The young poet raised his arms in the air like he was having a victory celebration.

"I would very much like to be introduced to this Han Chae-ha!"