Chương 8: Ten Taels

A few days later, Mu-cheon descended the stairs from his visit to the Treasury. The weight of the silver in the silk pouch he carried felt like lead against his thigh. In his mind, the Sect Leader's voice still echoed, cold and final: The girl can never be anything more than a concubine. The Inner Disciple's other hand reached back and tightened around the hilt of his Dae-jik-do. Despite the fact that he was seventeen, this was the first time in his life he had felt the walls of his status closing in on him.

To the world, he was the "Young Master," the future of the Tai-shan sect. But to the Sect Leader, he was an asset to be bartered – and Chae-ha was a liability to be paid off. A flash of uncharacteristic, petty anger sparked in his chest. Why wouldn't she leave? Go somewhere else, and just… live happily? The Young Master looked down at the pouch of silver he was carrying. Maybe, once she had this, she would. Ten taels was a life – a real life. She could have a garden. She could have a house.

She could have a name that wasn't whispered mockingly in the dark. Mu-cheon stopped on the stone path, looking ahead to the high, layered floors of the Archives. He knew what she was doing up there. He had seen the way her eyes had changed after the assassin died. The way they lit up with the hungry intensity of someone who had finally found a path forward, where they had once thought there was none. But thinking about the path she had chosen sent a shiver down Mu-cheon's spine. He didn't want her to be a "ghost."

Ghosts were unfulfilled. Ghosts were lonely. As the young man idly rolled his thumb and forefinger over the string of copper coins in his belt, he remembered the look on her face when she had pinned his sleeve with the needle. It really hadn't been luck. In this, at least, the Sect Leader had been wrong. He took a deep breath, the cold mountain air stinging his lungs, and forced his feet to move. He knew he had to give her the silver. He prayed she would use it to buy a better life for herself.

But as he arrived at the main door to the Archives, he already knew that she wouldn't. Chae-ha let out a groan of pure frustration, the air emptying itself from her lungs like a collapsing bellows as she thunked down onto the seat in front of her station. Her work for the day lay finished on the desk in front of her, but she still had problems to solve. She went through the issues in her mind for the hundredth time, chewing on the eye of a bookbinding needle as she did.

The Tai-shan sect's main trump card, the Art of the Sundering Edge, was fatally flawed. It was built from a catalog of heavy strikes, all of which combined pressure from the Chuk-ap-gyeol with concentrated sundering Ki in various ways. In principle, the swings were both fast and nearly impossible to stop, which should have made the art unparalleled. But because the Ki needed to be slowly infused into the sword via Ju-geom-shik, opportunities to use it were limited.

For their strikes to land, they needed perfect positioning, enough time to prepare, and also an opening – none of which most martial experts would give them. She knew the answer. The sect already had order. What it needed now was someone to create chaos. The image of the yin-yang symbol pounded in her head. Hard and soft. Direct and indirect. They are supposed to be two sides of the same equation. But historically, one side had been missing.

Chae-ha looked down at the diagrams she'd been drawing in her manual, surrounded by sketches and hastily scrawled notes. The theory seemed sound. By threatening to pin a tendon or strike a nerve cluster with her needles, she created an impossible choice for the opponent. They could choose to block or evade her attack, creating an opening for her fellow sect members. Or they could choose to get hit and lose control of a limb – which, in combat, was also a death sentence.

In order to make this work, however, there were two problems she still had to solve. The first was defense. None of this was possible if she couldn't get close to the opponent without being cut to pieces. Her Phantom Step, the Hwan-yeong-bo, was a good proof of concept. But it only worked from directly in front of an enemy, and it required her to move very aggressively in a straight line at the start. That was the only way she'd found to build up enough momentum in her lightweight robes to create the illusion.

Even worse, it would probably only work on the same opponent once. Chae-ha looked over at the seasoned cedar support column she'd been testing her needles on, now riddled with small holes. The second problem was building muscle memory. How could she ever practice piercing arteries and locking joint capsules? No training partner would get within three li of her. Without practice to learn the timing and placement, none of this would ever work – no matter how good the theory seemed.

She closed her eyes and pondered, still struggling to find solutions, when her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a familiar set of ponderous footfalls. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. Elder Gwak Mun-su grimaced as he reviewed Chae-ha's latest report, his weathered fingers pinching the edge of the stiff mulberry paper with significantly more force than usual.

The girl had been acting strangely since the assassination attempt, but he supposed that was to be expected. Her work was getting done, so he found it hard to fault her. But still… The iron shipments from Yangliu are fifteen percent below expectations again this month, she had written. The official statement blames a bandit attack. However, I checked the inventory reports, and they show no damaged wagons. The medical records show no real increase in casualties.

And charcoal consumption is up, implying ore-smelting activity at above normal rates. Embezzlement likely. He shook his head. What kind of person accused a Branch Head of embezzlement this casually? Any of his other clerks would have crept timidly into his office, afraid to even speak their findings out loud. But this girl had just noted it down as if she'd found a copyist's error and then moved on to tallying grain.

Then again, normal clerks also took a full ke to copy a single ledger page, so maybe it wasn't a fair comparison. Yangliu. The gateway to Mt. Culai. Why did it have to be there? Elder Gwak closed his eyes. This whole situation reeked of the Meng-shan. Mu-cheon set the weighty silk pouch on Chae-ha's workbench. It landed with a thud, the sound of the metal ingots clinking together muffled only slightly by the cloth.

"The Sect Leader sends his gratitude," he said, his voice conflicted.

"For saving the life of his direct disciple. Ten taels – it's more than some Outer Disciples see in a year." He opened the pouch, revealing the sparkling, well-polished silver inside. The young man gestured towards the bag. His voice was quiet, but hopeful.

"With this, you could leave. You could buy a small estate somewhere in the east, far from the Meng-shan and the debt collectors. You… wouldn't have to be a clerk anymore." Chae-ha's jaw dropped open. This was enough money to have made a dent in her family's debt, back when they still lived on the outskirts of Jinan. More than she had ever owned or even seen together in a single place. It should have made her heart skip a beat, but it was not what had captured her attention.

Her eyes were locked onto the small line of copper coins peeking out from Mu-cheon's belt, neatly threaded onto a string through the holes in their centers.

"Senior brother," she asked, pointing at the copper cash, "can I have those? I'll pay you back." The Inner Disciple looked down at his waist, confused.

"A string of copper coins? I just laid ten taels of silver on your desk! Even one of them is worth a thousand of these…" She took one of the ingots out of the bag and handed it to him.

"Good point. Can you please bring me some more coins? I really need the copper." The young man stood there, staring at her and looking shocked.

"Please, Mu-cheon?" Shaking his head in disbelief, he took the string of coins off of his belt and handed it to her. The young girl's eyes lit up with glee as she felt the cool metal settle against the heat of her palms.

"Thank you so much, senior brother! You have no idea what this means to me." Still not entirely sure what was happening, the Inner Disciple slowly turned to go and exchange the ingot for more copper. Chae-ha held up the weighty string of coins with one hand, and the hem of her robes with the other. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two as her mind raced, the solution to her worries suddenly feeling obvious.

"That's one problem solved," she whispered, a mischievous smile growing on her lips. The Obsidian Palace was always cold, but today the chill felt ominous. Kang Hyeon-je stared down at the report and the small map beside it. He sat in his personal study, behind a desk made of polished basalt. Occasional flickers of light from the braziers in the background danced across the reflective surface, expanding into ghostly ribbons of illusory fire.

Across from him, Elder Gwak stood with his hands tucked into his sleeves, his expression a carefully maintained blank slate.

"Yangliu. So, the Meng-shan have found yet another way to try and bleed us dry. Mun-su, have your clerks scrub the last three years of reports. If there's a single copper missing from our southern trade, I want the name of the man who took it. They can have a bonus from any reclamations they make." Elder Gwak bowed deeply.

"As you command, Sect Leader." Hyeon-je's shoulders retreated back into the cool stone of his seat.

"Five years ago, I thought this girl was destined to be forgotten. Yet somehow, she now seems to keep turning up wherever I look. Why exactly do you think that is?"

"I'm not sure either, Sect Leader. The girl is an anomaly. She is quite talented, and very determined, but…misfortune follows her. The heavens have not been kind."

"The heavens aren't cruel, my friend. People are. The heavens are just…uncaring. Whether a person allows that indifference to crush them tells you a lot about their value." He paused.

"This makes twice now that the girl has rendered significant service to the sect. How do you feel about promoting her to junior Inspector?"

"She is only fifteen years of age, Sect Leader," the Archive Elder replied, softly.

"She only recently reached her majority."

"Is she worthy?" Elder Gwak couldn't meet the Sect Leader's gaze – and also couldn't lie. He lowered his eyes and raised his arms in a slight, deferential bow.

"Yes, Sect Leader. She is thorough, capable, and clever. She had the top score on the sect's placement exams and has already been given her scholar's robes. If we make her primary function rooting out corruption, I am sure she will find it wherever it hides."

"Then do it," Hyeon-je commanded.

"Promote her. And regarding Yangliu: the quarterly delegation leaves in thirty days. Elder Ma Cheol-mi is leading the diplomatic party south to Mt. Culai, and from there to the Lu plains. Add our new Inspector to the administrative tail. We'll pay this branch a surprise visit – and have her conduct an audit."

"And if she confirms the theft?"

"Then Elder Ma will execute the Branch Head on his way back. Simple. Clean." The Sect Leader's eyes narrowed resolutely.

"We both know the ledger must be balanced – either in ink, or in blood."