Chapter 648

It was as though the world had stopped.

The music cut off all at once, as if on cue. People froze in place.

In the sudden silence, the Beast Miao King spoke, breaking Baeksang’s cold stare.

“Little brother, take your seat.”

Baeksang’s gaze slowly left me. Perhaps he had changed in the meantime; his sleeves were now snow-white as he resumed his climb.

“Very well.”

Step. Step.

His clothes were neat and his voice calm, just as they had been in the main hall, as though nothing had happened. He climbed the stairs with two great chieftains flanking him, and bitterness seemed to cloud the Beast Miao King’s eyes as he watched.

I suppose that’s understandable.

One called him little brother. The other answered, “Palace Lord.”

They weren’t related by blood, but I’d heard they had grown up together as sworn brothers. Yet I had never once heard Baeksang call the Beast Miao King hyung¹.

A thought occurred to me.

What was the Beast Miao King to Baeksang?

A sworn elder brother he still felt some affection for?

Or merely the Palace Lord of the Nanman Beast Palace, someone above him in the hierarchy?

Or perhaps…

An enemy whose involvement in the Great Faction War had cost him his only son?

I didn’t know. But I had a feeling I would find out soon enough, one way or another.

I hoped it would go well. The Beast Miao King seemed to hope so too.

“It’s been a long time since this foolish elder brother filled your cup.”

Baeksang looked silently at the wine bottle in the Beast Miao King’s hand, then answered in a dry voice.

“I’ve kept away from wine and women for decades. I must respectfully decline.”

The Nanman Beast Palace might be a tribal society governed through a kind of divided rule, but the Palace Lord’s authority was considerable. Only Baeksang could have refused him like that. Before he was the Great Chieftain of the Bai people, he was the Beast Miao King’s sworn younger brother.

“You liked fruit wine when you were young. Won’t you even accept a drink poured by me now? I made this wine myself for you.”

“…”

“Baeksang.”

At the quiet call, tinged with hurt and bitterness, Baeksang slowly closed his eyes, opened them again, and raised his cup.

“If you insist, I suppose I have no choice.”

“Then…”

“I’ll accept the cup, at least.”

The Beast Miao King’s face brightened. He filled Baeksang’s cup to the brim, then whispered softly enough that only Baeksang and I could hear.

“I hope you’ll both forget what happened in the main hall. You each wronged the other. There’s no use blaming either of you alone.”

Baeksang was still suspicious, and I still didn’t like him. But I wasn’t stupid enough to hit the gas now.

“All right. I did go a little too far.”

“…”

Baeksang gave me an unreadable look, then nodded slightly.

“I apologize for my unseemly behavior, Palace Lord.”

It was a surprisingly compliant answer.

The Beast Miao King smiled with satisfaction. Turning to the crowd, he called out, “Today is a joyous occasion for every tribe of Nanman and our honored guests who have traveled all the way from the Central Plains. Eat and drink to your hearts’ content!”

His voice rang across the quiet training ground. The music started again, and the men and women dancing picked up where they had left off.

At last, the mood began to ease.

Then a Sound Transmission reached my ear, hard as stone.

—Honored guests from the Central Plains, are we? How amusing.

Aha. I knew that had gone too smoothly.

I scratched the bridge of my nose and glanced at the Beast Miao King. He had risen and was encouraging the chieftains around him and the warriors they had brought, unaware of what was happening behind him.

—Leave. There is no place for you in this land.

I drained my cup in one gulp and moved my lips.

—Our great chieftain isn’t very generous, is he? I know you hate the Han Chinese, but how many people did I rescue at Ailao Mountain last night?

—I’ll pay you.

—What?

—What do you want? Gold? Silver? Name it. I’ll give you gold and silver treasures heavier than your own body.

—…Hmm.

The sweet fragrance of the fruit wine turned bitter, just like my mood.

Gold and silver treasures.

I’d expected a cold reception, but this felt far worse than I’d imagined. I refilled my cup and sent another Sound Transmission.

—I didn’t do it for a reward. Do people in Nanman put a price on human lives?

—Of course not. The life of a tribesman is beyond price. But it’s different when the other party is Han Chinese.

—Why?

—Because you people…

The Sound Transmission trailed off. Baeksang stared at his full cup with gloomy gray eyes, then shook his head.

—I’ve said too much. Stop arguing and leave.

—If you stop there, I won’t sleep tonight. Why not tell me what’s bothering you, and we can look for a way to settle it?

—A way to settle it?

He gave a short laugh.

It was the first time I’d seen Baeksang laugh, and there was no mistaking the contempt and mockery in it.

Clink—crash!

The sound was nearly lost beneath the banquet, but I saw and heard it clearly. His porcelain cup struck the ground and shattered, sending wine splashing in every direction.

Trickle. Drip.

As the spilled fruit wine soaked the stone steps and dripped from one to the next, Baeksang’s Sound Transmission reached me again.

—It is already too late to turn things back. Just like those.

—Hmm.

Too late? Is it really?

I studied the broken cup, then reached out.

Fwoosh!

A thread of internal energy flowed from my fingertips and swept gently across the ground. As though time had turned backward, the pieces that had lost their shape moments ago rose and flew into my open hand.

Sss. Tick, tick!

Dozens of fragments drew together like magnets. I used internal energy to bind their broken edges until they formed a cup again.

“…!”

“…!”

A murmur rippled through the onlookers. I subtly turned my head to look around. The reactions of those who had been watching us from earlier were quite a sight.

Namho and Heugung stood frozen with their mouths hanging open. A strange light flashed through Sama Pyo and Yohi’s eyes. Taishan had even forgotten to chew his meat and was staring blankly.

Not bad. My control over internal energy really has gotten finer since I opened my Middle Dantian.

If nothing else, stopping Taishan from eating was an achievement worth celebrating.

“Hmm, good. That’s some excellent Seizing an Object Through Empty Space.”

Baeksang watched me praise myself and spoke in an even voice.

“Was that meant to show off your martial arts? It’s a pitiful cup for all your effort.”

“Pitiful?”

“It can’t hold anything. The wine will leak out before you can pour it in.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. I wasn’t a god. Short of turning back time, I couldn’t restore the cup perfectly. I must have missed some fragments, because hairline cracks ran all through it. Even I couldn’t recover the wine that had already soaked into the ground and the steps.

But…

“You’re so damn picky. Just drink it.”

I picked up the bottle and poured without hesitation—not merely filling the cup, but letting the wine overflow. Then I wrapped my whole hand around it to cover the places where it leaked and tipped it into my mouth.

Gulp.

My throat burned as if I’d swallowed fire. When I spoke, my voice came out heated, carrying the fragrant scent of fruit wine.

“What’s the big deal? Cracked or broken, if you can put something in it and drink from it, it’s a cup.”

“…!”

Baeksang’s gaze darkened.

—And what will you do about the wine spilled on the ground long ago?

Anyone else hearing that might have wondered what on earth he was talking about. But it sounded different to me after our earlier exchange of Sound Transmissions.

The cup is trust. The spilled wine is people.

During the Great Faction War, the Nanman Beast Palace had been forced to lose countless tribespeople. Afterward, because of some matter he did not even want to mention, Baeksang had completely lost his trust in the Central Plains.

By putting the shattered cup back together, I’d tried to show him what I meant.

I don’t know whether he’ll take this as a plea to trust once more or as a final warning……

Either way, I’d made my meaning clear.

I looked across the training ground, where the banquet was in full swing. At the center of the countless cheering people stood the Beast Miao King, watching me with profound eyes.

Whoa. That man doesn’t miss a thing.

I felt like a high school kid caught causing trouble. I gave him a deliberate shrug, rose, and ambled off.

“Where are you going?” Baeksang asked behind me.

I threw back a brief answer in a deep voice.

“To take a piss!”

That fruit wine was surprisingly strong.

“Kh… urk!”

He was a bear of a man. But his towering, eight-cheok² frame and more than a jiazi’s³ worth of internal energy weren’t enough to save him from the death before him.

Crunch!

“Urk… Y-you. Who are you?”

A hand held his throat in an unyielding grip. Blood ran from the crown of his head, and between that and the lack of air, his vision had gone red and blurry.

He drew on every last bit of strength he had to speak.

“P-please… s-save me…”

He wanted to live. Desperately. But the strange man gripping his throat had other ideas.

Crack!

Bone broke, and the whites of the man’s eyes showed. When the life left him and his body went limp, the stranger released his grip.

Thud!

The heavy body rolled onto the ground. Without a moment’s hesitation over the life he had taken, the stranger thought, Ah. Was that the last one?

Only half a shichen⁴ had passed since enemies suddenly appeared at both ends of the gorge and shouted:

“I’ll tear you apart and kill you to avenge my martial brothers and friends!”

“Kill him!”

That was how the one-against-many battle had begun. After killing the men who rushed him from every direction without pause, he’d lost count.

About two hundred, I’d say.

They had gathered quite a force. The outcome had been all but decided from the start, though.

A sea of corpses and blood.

Only those four characters could describe the sight. The stranger, having once again left his mark on an unnamed gorge in Guizhou, picked up the weapon he had left leaning against a rock.

Clang. Clatter.

His Zen staff rattled as it swayed.

Stepping through a pool of blood, he headed somewhere to the south.