Chapter 749: Bound for Beijing (2)

In summer, of course it’s going to rain.

At some point, even Righteous-Proper Martial Academy had started to fill up with a damp, clammy, slightly funky reek of water, and by now it was as if the smell of laundry that had half-dried and then given up had pooled in every humid corner you couldn’t escape.

That was only natural, because Righteous-Proper Martial Academy didn’t stop its academic schedule just because it was raining.

What martial artist would duck out of something as trivial as a summer rain?

If anything, isn’t it nice and cool?

Besides, it’s not as if a martial artist gets to neatly fold up their sword and hole up to rest whenever it rains.

Whether snow falls, rain pours, or a storm howls, you only live if you fight when it’s time to fight and win, so you may as well roll bad-weather combat training into the bargain.

Because of that, even if you had two spare sets of clothes, in this kind of muggy summer weather they simply did not dry in two days.

And the musty stench of clothes that have only half-dried has a way of overlapping with the smell of poverty.

So the first impression for the guest who had come to Righteous-Proper Martial Academy—Kang Cheomnyang—the very first impression that seeped deep into his lungs through his nose, could not help but be exactly that.

On top of that, the warriors of Righteous-Proper Martial Academy who had frozen in place at the sight of the golden palanquin, going “What in the world is that,” were just as shabby.

Well, that’s what rain does.

Once you’re soaked to the skin, there’s a way in which people and animals alike look utterly pathetic.

“Honestly, how can you all look so shabby and hopeless. Hey, you there, this is Righteous-Proper Martial Academy, isn’t it. Are you going to just stand there gawking even when an honored guest arrives?”

Only then did the warriors snap back to themselves.

You could say they were far too out of it for people whose job was security, but even so, the warriors would have grounds to feel a bit wronged.

The gates of Righteous-Proper Martial Academy were always thrown open.

That was the Academy stating its will: any person with a chivalrous heart would be accepted.

At the same time it was also a bit of a threat: if you want to quit halfway through, leave whenever you like, we won’t stop you, we’re not the ones who’ll be missing out.

And there just aren’t that many people out there who would bother coming all the way up into the deep mountains.

Especially when right now the rain was coming down in a SWAAAASH!

In a situation like this, if a roofless palanquin—a golden palanquin at that—slid in as naturally as anything, it was only natural that anyone seeing it would rub their eyes and wipe their face, wondering what the hell that thing was and if they were actually seeing straight.

Honestly, anyone would have to feel a bit stunned.

“Ah, yes, what brings you here?”

“I am Wi Baseon.”

“Ah, Wi... the great hero, is it.”

The warriors glanced sideways at each other.

Do you know anyone named Wi Baseon?

No, I don’t. Is he someone high-ranking?

Would there be some high-ranking Alliance person we don’t know? Maybe he’s just some famous guy?

Still, if he were some weirdo who went around riding in a golden palanquin, wouldn’t he already be famous?

In that case his nickname would probably be something like “Golden Palanquin Bastard.”

The two warriors were giving each other the same look as sentries who’ve just run into some outsider going, “Yeah, that’s me.”

Wi Baseon clicked his tongue.

“Even if you’re wild martial brutes, how can you not know the name of a high official serving the state. I am the Chief Eunuch of the Brush-and-Seal Division.”

Hearing that didn’t actually help much.

Even if someone is a high official, at best people might know the local officials who actually affect their lives; it’s rare for anyone to know the structure of the central bureaucracy.

“O-oh, the Chief Brush-and-Seal Eunuch... sir, is it?”

“What brings you here to this place...?”

The warriors’ attitude only grew more awkward.

Chief Brush-and-Seal... something? Is that a high post?

If he’s an eminence who goes around in a golden palanquin, he must be really high-ranking, right?

But why would someone like that come all the way out here in a downpour, getting soaked to the bone?

At that, Chief Brush-and-Seal Eunuch Wi Baseon swept the rain from his thoroughly drenched face once, then smiled serenely and said:

“Nothing complicated. I have brought with me His Majesty’s imperial decree for Righteous-Proper Martial Academy.”

That was the kind of line that would snap anyone wide awake.

There are two kinds of words the Son of Heaven issues.

Words addressed to officials are called imperial rescripts, and words addressed to the common realm are called imperial decrees.

Together they’re called rescripts-and-decrees; split apart you get rescript-letters, rescript-orders, rescript-documents, decree-letters, decree-orders, decree-documents.

In other words, he was here to relay the Son of Heaven’s own words.

SPLASH!

The warriors dropped to their knees in the mud in a rush.

Wi Baseon nodded in satisfaction.

“Mm. Yes, that’s more like it. Now then. His Majesty the Emperor seeks to deliver words to Righteous-Proper Martial Academy, so gather every last person at once. Not a single one is to be absent.”

Righteous-Proper Martial Academy was in an uproar, because of the suddenly arrived imperial decree from the Son of Heaven.

The Son of Heaven’s rescripts and decrees cannot be doubted.

Even if they were, in fact, a fraud impersonating the Emperor, they are a thing that must not be doubted, a sacred zone you must not question.

Of course, anyone who dared to impersonate the Son of Heaven’s rescript or decree would drag their entire clan into a death too ugly to imagine.

There is no one in this world reckless enough to impersonate such a thing.

You can’t just hide or run and hope it blows over, either, so even the most deranged bastard alive would never think of impersonating one.

Which is why, at this utterly out-of-the-blue decree, even on this dark day with the rain lashing down hard, every last person at the Academy had gathered at the Grand Training Yard without a single absence.

And so, a eunuch with a kindly face stood beneath a massive umbrella and unfurled the decree.

“Receiving Heaven’s will, the Emperor proclaims a rescript!”

In that instant, everyone flung themselves to the ground.

Of course, people of the martial world aren’t exactly paragons of loyal citizenship; to be honest, it was more the unavoidable force of hierarchy than any sincere reverence.

So even as they grovelled in the mud with all five points pressed to the ground, it did stick in their craw.

Great, now I don’t have anything dry to wear tomorrow, I’m screwed. Seriously, if you had to come, couldn’t you pick a clear day? And is kneeling here really the right move right now? And so on and so forth.

—“The Blood Cult congeals evil intent to form a murderous band, taking all the people of the realm as their enemy; from times of old to the present, their harm has been most extreme.”

—“They slaughter and devour the common people, taking only hatred as their way; never in the past has any villainous band been as wicked as the Blood Cult.”

The voice, bolstered by internal energy, pierced the sheets of rain and reached their ears.

But the content? Why Blood Cult all of a sudden?

Still, that’s just how the order of imperial documents goes.

They’re always written in the sequence: raising the problem—criticizing the problem—the Emperor’s measures—the Emperor’s intent.

That’s the format imposed by the Document Office, which manages the Son of Heaven’s paperwork; it’s not that His Majesty actually “talks like that.”

—“As We were in deep concern over this matter, We heard word of victory, that a loyal woman had routed a leader of the Blood Cult. In true joy We wish to praise her; therefore let the woman of the rivers and lakes, Seomun Cheong, enter the palace and receive the grace bestowed by His Majesty!”

—“This is Our will and Our heart: that We shall by no means sit idle watching villains who disturb the realm. By this let all under Heaven know Our heart!”

If you cut away all the pointless length and all the modifiers slathered on for no reason, and reverse-engineer the Son of Heaven’s words from before the Document Office got to them, it would go like this:

Heavenly Flower Sword took down Minor Water Witch, huh?

Outstanding work! I’ll give you a reward, so get yourself to the palace.

“Long live!!! Long live!!! Long, long live!!!”

“Long live!!! Long live His Majesty the Emperor!!!”

This too was the proper ritual response to an imperial decree, the etiquette the people who had heard the voice of the Son of Heaven were required to perform.

Still, the shout they gave really was thunderous.

Instructor Seomun is getting a reward?

His Majesty himself is going to commend her?

What the—Instructor Seomun is even Number One at getting commended?!

For the instructors and cadets who’d been dragged out here wondering what in the world was going on, this was astonishingly good news, so of course they screamed their throats raw shouting “Long live!”

Only, to the actual person involved, it wasn’t particularly welcome.

Before going to meet the imperial messenger, Qing had gone to see Sima Chunbong under the pretext of tidying up her clothes.

She wanted to hear what a smart person thought.

“Well, we’ve been hit square on this time. What are we supposed to do about this situation...”

Sima Chunbong let out a sigh.

“Heavenly Flower Sword, this matter is plainly the fault of this Sima Lang. I truly, sincerely must apologize. It seems the imperial palace was thoroughly provoked; this Sima Lang should have anticipated they’d pull something like this...”

Sima Chunbong bowed her head deeply.

Of course, this wasn’t something Sima Chunbong needed to apologize for.

Who on earth would have seen this coming?

Normally, an imperial rescript or decree from the Son of Heaven is not the sort of thing where a handful of people just stroll in, read it out, and that’s that.

It’s an envoy of the highest rank; at minimum, there should be a retinue of dozens and a guard of hundreds forming a full procession.

Yet they’d just express-shipped it in a single golden palanquin.

The point was to crowd her, give no time for the Academy to think of anything else, and slam this down on them—to summon her with clear, calculated intent.

Sima Chunbong started explaining to Qing, who was wearing an expression that basically said, Is this really that big a deal?

The instructors and cadets of Righteous-Proper Martial Academy knew that Heavenly Flower Sword had repelled Minor Water Witch and been injured in the process.

But the rest of the world did not know that, because the Martial Alliance’s official announcement had never once mentioned Heavenly Flower Sword.

If they did, the Blood Cult might come charging in to take revenge, and besides, from Qing’s standpoint—where she couldn’t even call her realm “Transcendence” out loud—having her name spread any further would just be trouble.

They’d deliberately left any mention of her out to protect her, so how had the palace managed to single her out by name?

In short, the imperial palace was forcing things.

They had explicitly named Seomun Cheong, which meant she was in a position where, one way or another, she had to enter the palace.

Even if she went, That’s a misunderstanding, that wasn’t me, she would still have to first go into the palace and say it there; she couldn’t arrogantly send back word going, That wasn’t me, so I’m not coming.

Qing tilted her head.

“Hm. Is it that big a deal?”

“Heavenly Flower Sword, this is no small matter. For them to force a summons like this—”

“Come on, is anything terrible really going to happen just because they call me in? It’s not like they dragged me there to nitpick something and have me executed on the spot.”

If you summoned someone on the pretext of giving them a reward and then cut their head off, who in the world would ever accept a reward again?

In fact, there were cases like that in Central Plains history, but they’d been condemned for generations as backstabbing infamy.

It simply wasn’t the sort of thing you could do in the name of the Son of Heaven.

“Heavenly Flower Sword, they are clearly going to grant you office and plan to keep you pinned in the imperial palace. Are you aware that imperial officials may not leave Beijing without permission?”

“Mmm. I’m sure we can work something out.”

In truth, Qing had something she was counting on.

Her Majesty the Empress is there; if anything looks like it’s going wrong, I can just beg her to stop it, right?

—or so she was thinking, when it suddenly hit her.

Will Her Majesty the Empress even help me?

Her runaway daughter finally came back into her arms, and now that daughter is asking for help to run away again.

Wouldn’t she actually be delighted this happened, join in and back it, maybe even go, Seomun Cheong is my daughter, and use this chance to declare it, saddling her with the completely undeserved job of being a princess?

Qing’s expression finally turned serious.

She will... help me... right?

Sima Chunbong let out a long, deep sigh.

“Heavenly Flower Sword, you must count it as a blessing from Heaven, the greatest fortune Heaven has granted you, that you have a dear, dear, dear friend whose wisdom is Number One Under Heaven, like this Sima Lang.”

Sima Chunbong spoke, the tips of her ears faintly red.

Who knew when exactly they’d become “dear friends,” but apparently Chunbong had been feeling a deeper bond than Qing had realized.

“Ahem. From this moment on, Heavenly Flower Sword, you must become a gravely ill patient. As it happens, we have the perfect excuse. If we say you were struck by Minor Water Witch’s cold poison and are in critical condition, we can refuse the office.”

Oh. That was good.

Qing nodded.

Even in the histories, countless talents had used “illness” as their excuse to hole up in the wilds; feigning sickness was the best method there was for dodging office.

On top of that, pretending to be sick?

Qing bared her teeth in a broad grin.

A patient? That’s my specialty.