NOVEL NEXT chapter 93 - The Tang Clan’s Shame
The courtyard, where peach blossoms were in full bloom, was filled with the sound of sweeping. Whenever the wind blew, petals poured down like rain. That peaceful atmosphere seemed to reveal the master’s disposition. One small pavilion placed among old peach trees, one small three-room quarters. For the sleeping quarters of the Martial Alliance’s Alliance Leader, it was humble enough to be surprising. He was even sitting in the pavilion in a night robe, playing go. One could say that was acceptable in a private space, but the story changed when it was the period of one of the Martial Alliance’s greatest events, the duel tournament. There was no way an aged elder would not know how busy the alliance members gathered outside were, nor how precious the steps of those visitors were. He might have excused it by saying he was a Daoist of Kunlun, the one most removed from the world, but he had been Alliance Leader too long to claim that. The position renewed every ten years—he had served five full terms. The time he had lived on Kunlun and the time he had lived in Hubei’s bustling streets were about the same.
Tak.
At the sound of a white stone blocking a path, the old man sighed.
“Truly, I begin to doubt whether you are blind.”
The Master of the Four Seasons Pavilion curved his lips.
“I hear that often.”
“Ha-ha.”
Letting out a laugh, the old man rolled a black stone between his fingers, searching for a point, and asked, “How goes this year’s duel tournament? Is it proceeding smoothly, without mishap?”
“Yes. Because everyone fears the Sword Sovereign’s disciple, they did not send that outstanding disciples, so it is a little dull.”
“Oh-ho, how can you speak thus, when they have shown respect to headquarters and sent precious late-stage disciples from afar? Mind your manners.”
Zhuge Inhwi lifted his gaze from the board.
“Then why have you been here for days?”
“I am unwell, so I have no choice.”
“You look well.”
“You, who cannot see, what do you know to say that?”
“……”
“That was too harsh of me—my apologies.”
Tak.
Placing a black stone in an empty spot, the Alliance Leader smiled. “And I’m sorry for this as well.”
Zhuge Inhwi did not pick up a new stone. He only stared fixedly at the leader seated before him.
“Don’t rebuke me so. Now that I am old, it is hard to manage my expression. Whichever side wins, I should behave as if I had expected it, calm and composed, but if I’m surprised, that would be discourteous, would it not?”
“If the man who has managed his expression calmly until now suddenly says such a thing, it is hard for me to understand.”
The Alliance Leader let out a soft laugh.
“That is truly all there is.”
His laughter gradually turned into a sigh.
“This year, I truly do not know who will win or lose.”
“That sounds as if you knew in past years.”
Instead of answering, the Alliance Leader smiled. “Inhwi, how long must I wait? Pick up a stone.”
“The Vice Unit Leader is struggling. We are already approaching the semifinals, yet not only are you not attending, you have not even met the members—dissatisfaction is high.”
“If I say I am ill, people should be concerned; dissatisfaction, you say? Ho-ho, I have lived my life to no purpose.”
“Did you tattle?”
Zhuge Inhwi stared at him, then, without looking at the board, placed his stone.
“I go in and out of here openly—of course they would know. If you truly had such a grave illness, you’d have ordered everyone out, tournament or no tournament, so you could rest.”
“Perhaps I’m afraid I’ll be ambushed in my weakness, so I’ve chased them all away.”
Smiling, the Alliance Leader lowered his eyes to the board.
“Sometimes it amuses me how you choose words to sound elegant. A brat who still smells of milk scolds me, cajoles me, and coaxes me. The antics of a junior I see in my declining years are pleasing.”
“Alliance Leader.”
Lifting his head, the Alliance Leader cut him off.
“You’ve won.”
The old man sighed and asked, “So, you said the Taeguk Sword Sovereign’s direct disciple will win? I shall go observe the finals.”
“The finals are only a few days away. You must attend the finals.”
Zhuge Inhwi’s voice was heavy with fatigue. Each clan and sect sent four candidates to the duel tournament. Today, eight candidates competed, and the semifinalists were decided. There was no need to explain how many matches the Alliance Leader had missed. The Vice Alliance Leader had been so exasperated he had begged the Master of the Four Seasons Pavilion to somehow bring the Alliance Leader out. The Vice Alliance Leader thought Zhuge Inhwi had some clever trick up his sleeve, but Zhuge Inhwi himself was uncomfortable with private audiences with the leader.
The Alliance Leader’s inside could not be read. No—rather than unreadable, his inside was his outside. A person’s inside could not help but differ from the outside, yet his were the same. He believed and acted as he said, and felt no suspicion or unease. He did not say things he did not mean to confuse others, and even when his words could be misunderstood, he simply let them be misunderstood and spoke frankly. At times when he delayed decisions, it was not to deliberate, but purely out of laziness. If the members knew that this “sage,” so-called, was actually a man who found all worldly matters a bother and wished to do nothing, they would never have given him the Alliance Leader’s seat unanimously five times.
But today, Zhuge Inhwi sensed a subtle change. The one who acted as if he knew everything and cared not if he was wrong had revealed unease. Saying he would not go because he could not tell the winner was not a jest but sincere. Yet saying he disliked gauging the members’ mood was a lie. He was anxious at being unable to tell the winner—and hid the reason. It was not as if he had placed wagers, nor that he favored some late-stage disciple.
'No, not favored—but there is one he has an interest in.'
Zhuge Inhwi thought of Namgung Hyun, the Namgung Clan Head’s second son, who had made the final four today. Once, out of the blue, the Alliance Leader had said he wanted to bring him to the Four Seasons Pavilion. When asked why, though he was not especially sensitive to aesthetics, he had said it was because he liked the youth’s calligraphy. Absurdly, it had not been a lie. He might be offended to hear his aesthetic sense was low, but it was the truth.
Zhuge Inhwi lifted his head. The fragrance of peach blossoms filling the space felt thicker than the scent of old wood. In such a small set of quarters it would be difficult to stretch out one’s legs to sleep; where would there be room to hang calligraphy? He let out a deep breath and lowered his gaze. As he cleared the board, the Alliance Leader quietly watched.
Tak. Tak.
Watching the stones return to their places, the Alliance Leader asked, “Has the Tang Clan Head brought his eldest daughter?”
His voice had sunk somewhat. Sensing the change in tenor, Zhuge Inhwi slowly closed his eyelids.
“If she has come, I would like to meet her once.”
“……”
“Has she not come?”
Reading the mood in silence, Zhuge Inhwi, pressed by the Alliance Leader, shook his head. “No. She has come.”
“Then why so slow to answer? Were you sounding out my qi—how hurtful.”
Zhuge Inhwi let out a dry laugh. He opened his eyes and bowed his head. “It is a name I hear often these days, so I was prickly. My apologies.”
“Mm? You hear that name often?”
“True Person Wu So and the Taeguk Sword Sovereign spoke to me about the young Lady Tang. I certainly knew already, yet they held me fast and spoke at length. I doubt they did that only with me.”
Guessing what those stories were, the Alliance Leader smiled. It seemed they were stepping forward to manage her reputation. But Zhuge Inhwi could not follow suit in smiling.
“Then why do you wish to meet the young Lady Tang?”
“Aren’t you curious?”
The Alliance Leader did not answer but asked back. “Her name is in places it should not be, and that name is reaching ears it should not touch.”
Given that both the Shaanxi Branch and the Hubei Branch were in dangerous straits, he could understand the “places it should not be” part. But he could not understand whose ears “it should not touch.” Zhuge Inhwi wondered for a moment if he himself was so frightening a person.
“Is there a reason I should not know the name of Young Lady Tang Sohwa?”
“There is not.”
Zhuge Inhwi realized the person the Alliance Leader meant was not him.
“I wish to meet her before the finals, so tomorrow would be best.”
“……If you do not meet the Clan Head and the Sect Leaders, yet meet a clan’s direct line first, people will talk.”
“If they talk, they talk. How can we stop words that rise from people’s hearts?”
“Alliance Leader.”
“If you refuse, I can go out and meet her myself, so feel free to refuse.”
“……”
“Was the Tang Clan’s residence to the north?”
“……I will bring her by the mi hour (13:00–15:00) tomorrow.”
“Good.”
The Master of the Four Seasons Pavilion finished clearing the board and rose. Bowing to the Alliance Leader who still sat, he descended from the pavilion. Walking across the neatly swept courtyard, he thought he should stop by Lower Hyun Pavilion. It was where reports on every alliance member and their associates were compiled; there would be something on the Tang Clan Head’s eldest daughter as well.
***
The Tang Clan’s mood was very gloomy. Today, when the semifinals had ended, even the Little Clan Head, who had barely made the top eight, had been eliminated. The duel tournament was a good chance to gain insight into each other’s martial arts, yet it was a sensitive event where one’s mood was subtly affected by victory or defeat. Spectators enjoyed it, but for participants only half enjoyed it; in truth, the Martial Alliance did not take the initiative in pushing the tournament. However, since it was helpful for young disciples with endless potential to be “broken” once for their growth, the clans gathered their late-stage disciples and held the duel tournament each year. This was the Martial Alliance’s only duel tournament, and thus it became that subtle something which quietly prodded the members’ nerves. Of course, there were not many who openly revealed that discomfort. Most recalled the purpose for which the tournament was held and tried to teach their disciples.
'Even if you lost, if you learned something, it will help you.'
'Do not grow conceited because you won. Ten years from now, that junior third-generation disciple may kick your backside.'
The Tang Clan Head swallowed those words as he looked at the four late-stage disciples lined up before him. Those with the luxury could tell others not to prattle on about victory or defeat so comfortably. Since the Martial Alliance duel tournament began, the Tang Clan had not won a single time. Because repeat entries were impossible, with a favorable bracket one could structure things so as to win at least once. Even so, the Tang Clan had never won.
Trying to calm himself, the Clan Head had closed his eyes—then snapped them open.
“I can understand the others. Even if they are eliminated, fine—but how is it that the Little Clan Head did not make the final four?”
At his roar, Tang Hak could not say a word.
“I’m not even asking for Namgung Jin. Zhuge Inhwi was also a winner that year, and Hwangbo Rim won last year, didn’t he? If Pang Yiran wins next year, then only you—only you will be the Little Clan Head who never won!”
“Now, now, isn’t it a bit much to berate the Little Clan Head for that, when it’s our Tang Clan’s history?”
At that moment, Tang Min, who had been listening quietly, interjected.
“The Tang Clan’s martial arts do not suit duels. Even when others can somehow recover the techniques once they’ve struck them out, our Tang brats cannot recover once they’ve thrown. Well, there is one person who could recover at my age, but I should be treated as an exception in the Tang Clan, so leave that out.”
“Grand Elder.”
The Clan Head called him quietly, giving him a look to withdraw, but Tang Min was not a man whose reins could be taken with a few words.
“Come now—neither the Clan Head, nor the ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) Former Clan Head, nor my father could do it, so what’s the fuss.”
Frowning, Tang Min added his true intention with a dry cough.
“The Little Clan Head needs to go back and train, so please do not crush his spirit. He already lacks confidence; even when he understands the mnemonic, he cannot be sure. At times like this, you must keep telling him he’s doing well and instill confidence.”
Like a mother said to have moved three times for the sake of her child’s education, Tang Min revealed earnestness for Tang Hak’s training. Tang Ji-ha closed his mouth. He now understood what training his son had begun. It seemed he was learning retrieval—calling back a thrown hidden weapon into one’s grasp. For the timid, it was a mnemonic exceedingly hard to realize. He had wondered why the boy had insisted on tagging along to the duel tournament, making people uncomfortable, and now it seemed this was the reason.
Tang Ji-ha himself had been timid by nature, so it had taken him a long time to grasp that mnemonic. Looking at his son who resembled him so closely, he let out a sigh—so heavy that to those listening it sounded like the sound of restrained anger.
“That will be all. You may go.”
At the Clan Head’s words, the Little Clan Head and the three Tang warriors lifted their heads. Standing beside the Clan Head, Tang Min flapped his hand downward. That meant: hurry and flee before he changes his mind. The three warriors clasped their fists and hurriedly left the Clan Head’s room, but Tang Hak’s expression was somehow unsettled. As if he had something to say yet hesitated, he shuffled out of the Clan Head’s quarters, his steps limp and reluctant.