Chương 20: Heavenless

The next morning, Branch Head Yu paced the length of his private study, his silk slippers scuffing against the floorboards. Every few seconds, the man stopped to glare at the oak door at the front of his office, as if expecting the barbarous Young Master to kick this one down, too.

"The sheer audacity," he hissed, his voice shaking with suppressed rage.

"The absolute, unmitigated gall! He blocks me? In my hallway? While dragging dirt and blood through my branch?" Administrator Seo, a man with ink-stained fingers and a perpetual line of nervous sweat across his forehead, stood nearby, clutching a stack of papers to his chest like a shield.

"It's an outrage, Branch Head. The Young Master…well, the rumors do say he is spirited. But this borders on open hostility."

"Spirited? He's a thug," Yu scoffed. The man marched over to his desk and aggressively straightened a pile of invoices that were already perfectly aligned.

"He's a muscle-brained brute who thinks shouting loud enough makes him right. And his timing could not possibly be worse!" The Branch Head turned and leaned back against his desk, before beginning to massage his temples with the fingers of both hands.

"The Salt and Iron Commissioner arrives in two days. Two days! We're already in the middle of finalizing the 'specialized inventory adjustments' for his review. The accounts are being balanced to the copper. This audit requires absolute precision – and total discretion!" He looked up, his eyes narrowing.

"You know the Commissioner is a man who values order above all else. If he arrives to find the main sect's Young Master stomping around, asking questions and making noise…it puts the entire operation at risk!"

"So... how do you want to proceed? Do we chase them out? Enforce the lockdown?"

"No! Use your head," Yu snapped back at him.

"That lunatic has twenty blood-crazed warriors and an injured High Elder in there. If we try to force them out, we'll have a civil war in the courtyard. Blood will spill, and the Magistrate will get involved. That is the one outcome we cannot, under any circumstances, allow." The Lesser Elder took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. The cunning that had allowed him to skim off the top of the iron trade for years began to reassert itself over his anger.

"The Young Master said Elder Ma requires 'absolute isolation,' didn't he?"

"He did," Administrator Seo confirmed.

"He threatened to kill anyone who disturbs them."

"Good. Then we will give him exactly what he wants. We will be the most accommodating hosts in the history of the sect. I saw the High Elder, and his injuries looked serious. We just need him to stay locked up in there for a couple of days." The Branch Head walked over and began tapping his finger on the administrator's shoulder for emphasis.

"I want you to double the guard around the medical wing. Tell them it is for the High Elder's protection. But your real orders are to ensure that no one leaves that building." Administrator Seo nodded vigorously, causing beads of sweat to start rolling down the sides of his portly face.

"If the Young Master asks for food, bring him a banquet. If he asks for medicine, empty the stores. Give him whatever he wants, so he has no reason to ever set foot outside those double doors. And ensure every single bandage and pill is exhaustively documented. Bury his tantrum in paperwork."

"So we…keep him contained?"

"Exactly. Make sure you check up on the High Elder constantly, so the brat always feels a need to keep playing guard dog. The Kang boy is a simple creature; he's enjoying being a petty tyrant. He likes being able to borrow someone else's authority and throw it around. So let him do it. Indulge his fantasy. As long as he stays locked up in that wing playing pretend, he's harmless." The Branch Head turned back to his desk and picked up a fresh brush.

"Now, get out. Give the men their orders – and make sure you go to the lower warehouse to review the manifests. I don't want a single crate out of place when the audit begins."

"Well, we got in," Mu-cheon observed, as he looked out the window at the covered wagon that still contained the caskets.

"But it would be nice to be able to get back out in one piece. What's next, little sister?" Chae-ha closed her tired eyes. The young girl hadn't slept since the previous day.

"We don't have the combat strength to beat the Branch Head. So we need to get someone else to do it for us." She paused for a moment before continuing.

"The Imperial Commissioner." Mu-cheon blinked.

"I thought we didn't want him to be the one to find evidence of corruption?"

"He won't be," Chae-ha replied softly.

"I will. You did your part by getting us in here. Now it's my turn." She opened her eyes as she continued, her voice thin.

"If they're trying to hide evidence, I'll find out. And then when the Commissioner arrives, the sect's bereaved Young Master will present him with all the proof he needs to hang Branch Head Yu. The Imperials aren't martial artists, so we'll join forces and help arrest him."

"Bereaved?"

"The badly injured Elder Ma will have succumbed to his wounds by then," Chae-ha replied, her voice dangerously calm.

"Right here in the Branch Head's own medical wing. It will look very suspicious when we reveal that a High Elder sent to investigate him suddenly died under his own roof." Mu-cheon whistled.

"You're going to pin Elder Ma's death on him?" The young girl shook her head.

"Just imply it. There won't actually be enough evidence to tie him to the crime. But the emotion will help to smooth over any rough edges with the Commissioner. And being accused of murder on top of everything else will probably send Branch Head Yu into a complete meltdown." The Inner Disciple scratched his head.

"There's still one thing I don't get." He pointed out the window.

"How, exactly, are you planning to make it out of here? They've boxed us in with guards."

"Well, for that part," Chae-ha replied, stifling a yawn, "I'll need your help. The louder and more unreasonable you can be, the more invisible I can be. You won't like it much, but –" The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Her explanation was interrupted by a hesitant tapping on the door.

"Excuse me, Young Master? It's me again," a voice called from outside. Mu-cheon rolled his eyes.

"Administrator Seo. He's been coming by almost every hour to ask about the High Elder. Last time he brought tea and pillows. I guess I'll see what he's up to this time." The young man opened the door, and the sweaty administrator sheepishly entered the room, carrying a stack of formal-looking papers. Mu-cheon crossed his arms and arranged his face into his grumpiest expression.

"What is it now? I'm pretty sure I told you last time exactly where to stuff your pillows." The timid man dabbed at his forehead with a piece of cloth, trying to dry it as he presented the stack of paperwork.

"Please, Young Master, be reasonable. There's an audit happening in two days, and you're burning through our medical supplies. Of course we're happy to help, but we need everything you're using to be properly catalogued." He shook the papers lightly for emphasis.

"These are requisition forms for medical supplies, documenting all the things you've been using. Please, just stamp them for our records."

"I tell you not to bother us again, under any circumstances, and your response is to bring me yet another stack of paperwork?" The pleading man set the forms down on the desk and spread his hands.

"Master Kang, we've been most accommodating. We've given you everything you've asked for and more. Surely it's not too much to ask for your help in keeping our heads on our shoulders when the Commissioner arrives." Chae-ha raised an eyebrow before pulling herself to her feet. She walked over and checked through the forms, finding nothing obviously wrong with them. She grabbed a brush, struck through the blank space on each of them so nothing could be added later, and then offered a soft nod.

Mu-cheon sighed and pulled out his personal seal from within his robes. Chae-ha watched as he dipped the carved soapstone into a tin on the desk and pressed it against the bottom of the forms, one by one. The red cinnabar paste left clean, clear characters on each page. 康 (Kang) – 無 (Mu) – 天 (Cheon) Satisfied, the sweaty man turned around and left. Once he was gone, Chae-ha turned to her friend in shock.

"That's how your name is spelled?" Mu-cheon shifted uncomfortably.

"It is."

"Not 'Mu' for 'Martial,' like everyone else," she continued.

"But 'Without?' Your father named you 'Without Heaven?'" The young man shrugged helplessly.

"He said he always wanted me to remember not to rely on the Heavens. That a great future isn't predestined – it's something I have to fight for. I'm pretty sure his exact words were, 'Destiny isn't written in the stars. It's written in blood.'""But, senior brother," Chae-ha objected.

"I've seen clerks write your name down before. Every passenger manifest, personnel deployment, and equipment requisition form I've ever seen all used the character for 'Martial.' How is that even possible?"

"People made assumptions, and I never bothered correcting them. After a while, it just…stuck. To be honest, I don't really care what character people use to spell it. I find both versions embarrassing." Chae-ha shook her head in disbelief.

"You think you know a man," she muttered.

"We'll discuss how you've been hiding this from me later. For now, let's finish talking about how I'm planning to get out of here." The young girl yawned loudly.

"And then I'm going to take a nap." Crash. The oaken doors of the medical ward flew open. A frightened young attendant came tumbling out, a brass water basin clattering noisily behind him.

"How dare you drop the same bowl twice?!" Mu-cheon's voice thundered out from within, thick with disdain.

"You have all the coordination of a three-legged toad with cataracts! Get out of my sight before I have you flogged for attempting to drown a High Elder!" The attendant scrambled to his feet, bowing frantically to the empty doorway before fleeing back to the dormitories. The two dozen guards stationed outside exchanged nervous, sympathetic glances. Branch Head Yu's orders were clear – let the Young Master be a tyrant – but it still felt hard to watch the way he abused their staff members.

An hour later, a second servant was brutally expelled. This time it was a terrified young boy, carrying a tray of untouched medicinal broth.

"I wouldn't serve this filth to a pox-blighted sow!" the Young Master roared, slamming the door so hard the hinges rattled.

"If you bring me another cup of this swill, I'll force-feed it to you until you choke!" By late afternoon, the guards were actively cringing every time a replacement servant was sent to the suite. The strategy of containment was working, but it was taking a heavy psychological toll on everyone within earshot. Meanwhile, feeling somewhat refreshed from her nap, Chae-ha was preparing for the work ahead. The young girl started with some medicinal supplies she had requisitioned from the sect's stores.

Over a low flame, Chae-ha reduced both Mandara flower tincture and Yingsu extract, boiling the water away until they formed a thick, concentrated resin. The two medicines were carefully chosen; Mandara was a potent sedative that also caused memory loss, while the poppy extract was a powerful painkiller and depressant. Once finished, she scraped the prepared mixture into a small, sturdy vial and tucked it into a rough hemp pouch, along with a few needles and a tiny ceramic tin of crushed alum.

Then, she closed herself inside the linen closet she had hidden in the night before. It was time to make use of what she'd found in there. The young Inspector carefully removed her scholar's robes, folded them neatly, and hid them beneath a stack of thick winter quilts. In their place, she pulled on a spare set of undyed servant's robes from one of the lower shelves.

The raw hemp was stiff and scratchy, but its shapeless, generic cut served her purposes perfectly, and the belt provided a convenient place to attach her small pouch. Chae-ha uncorked a small bottle of black ink and dipped her fingers into it. With a delicate touch, the young girl smudged the dark pigment across her cheeks, forehead, and hands. Lastly, she pulled out the steel needle from her hair and allowed her Daenggi-meori braid to tumble down her back.

When she finally opened the door, a clumsy, overworked, and thoroughly unremarkable junior clerk stumbled out. As the sun finally dipped below the horizon and the shadows began to lengthen, Chae-ha approached their resident tyrant.

"It's time, senior brother," she whispered, gesturing at her new attire. The young man looked her up and down, his jaw tightening.

"I'm not sure I can do this, little sister. It feels…wrong."

"You have to. This is the easiest way for me to get past the guards. Now grab me by my collar, carry me like a sack of barley, and throw me into the dirt."

"I could hurt you," the young man objected, his eyes pleading with her to find another way.

"You won't," she replied, stepping closer.

"You've had an entire day to practice throwing people around without hurting them. Oh, and don't forget to insult me! It's what really sells the illusion." Chae-ha extended her neck and pointed emphatically at her collar. Mu-cheon closed his eyes and let out a shaky sigh. When he opened them again, the gentle giant was gone, replaced by the imposing Great Bell of Mt. Tai. He reached out and grabbed the collar of her hemp robes, hauling her effortlessly off her feet.

Chae-ha mentally braced herself as Mu-cheon marched towards the entrance. The young man kicked the double doors open with enough force that the sound of his boot echoed in the courtyard. In a single sweeping motion, he hurled her out of the suite. Chae-ha sailed low through the air, twisting her body just enough to protect her ribs and keep the small pouch on her belt out of danger as she hit the packed dirt of the courtyard.

She rolled to a stop, scraping her elbows and knees, and allowing the wind to be knocked out of her for authentic effect.

"Has the ink stained your brain as well as your hands?!" Mu-cheon bellowed, his face contorted into a mask of fury and disdain. He stepped out of the doors, towering over her small, crumpled form.

"I've seen wet books with a stronger spine than you! Useless! Every single one of you in this backwater branch is completely useless!" He glared at the surrounding guards, daring any of them to intervene, before turning his back and slamming the thick oak doors shut with a deafening thud. Silence fell over the courtyard, broken only by the sound of Chae-ha's pathetic, muffled sobbing. The perimeter guards exchanged uneasy glances. They were hardened men, loyal to Branch Head Yu – but even they had their limits.

One of the guards, a younger man with kind eyes, broke formation. He walked over and kneeled carefully beside the crying girl.

"Hey…are you alright?" he asked softly, his gentle voice a stark contrast to Mu-cheon's roaring. Chae-ha flinched dramatically, shrinking away from him as she let out a frightened whimper.

"Shh, it's okay. He's gone," the man said soothingly, helping her to her feet.

"Let's get you back to the servant dormitories." The other guards parted seamlessly to let them through, casting sympathetic looks at the sobbing girl. Offering a supportive, guiding hand, he walked her right out of the containment perimeter – unknowingly escorting the most dangerous person in the entire convoy directly into the heart of their compound.