Chapter 39: Revival of the Lion, Revival of the Kind-hearted (7)
Before heading to Liaodong, where the Murong family resides, most travelers along the main road inevitably pass through a particular city.
Beijing.
The nation’s capital.
Martial artists generally avoid staying in Beijing, as it is the domain of the imperial palace.
Even the prestigious Hebei Peng Clan, which has its stronghold near Beijing, built its manor on the outskirts of the city, carefully avoiding direct encroachment on the imperial domain that is the palace.
However, recently, a surge of martial artists in the vicinity of Beijing has heightened the city’s tension.
After all, wasn’t it just a short while ago that the leader of the martial arts alliance passed through this place?
If the gathering of martial artists were merely a matter of concern for the government, there is actually something even more pressing for the imperial court and the city of Beijing as a whole.
The hero of the martial world—or rather, the national hero—Murong Tian.
The nation mourned deeply upon learning that his beloved daughter was terminally ill, her death imminent.
The imperial palace extended its condolences with the utmost respect and solemnity.
In truth, Beijing was preparing for war.
Not a war against foreign tribes or rebel forces, but a conflict—albeit not quite a war—against the martial artists themselves.
-If the Sword Saint departs from the Murong family after losing his daughter, the imperial court must secure him!
-Should he choose to retreat to the mountains and abandon worldly affairs, it would destabilize the martial world. Preparations must be made for the ensuing chaos!
This response to large-scale unrest caused by the martial world was effectively no different from preparing for a national war.
And it was inevitable.
Until twenty years ago, before the Heavenly Demon was defeated, even minor incidents in the martial world would split mountains, overturn rivers, and damage roads, causing significant administrative disruption or paralysis.
The so-called ‘Green Forest’ factions, in particular, were especially problematic.
Martial artists would establish mountain strongholds in areas beyond the reach of the government, raiding passing martial artists and causing an endless stream of incidents.
To criticize the government for doing nothing would be unfair, as the government did act to suppress bandits, Green Forest or otherwise.
-Aaargh! Officials must not interfere with the martial world! Officials must not interfere!
When bandits shouted these words, elite warriors unparalleled in martial skill dispatched by the government would break their arms and cut their heads off.
Yet bandits continued to thrive across the Central Plains. The land was vast, the bandits numerous, and, most significantly, they adhered to a peculiar form of ethics. They knew not to cross certain lines.
Taxpayers were citizens.
And bandits started paying taxes.
This might sound absurd, but bandits carved mountain paths and collected tolls, paying taxes on the revenue.
-Why doesn’t the government eliminate the bandits blocking the mountain paths?
-Because those Green Forest guys literally punched through the mountains to create those paths.
-Oh.
-Since it’s not an official road developed by the government, you have to pay the toll.
-Well, in that case…
Remarkably, some bandits even offered quick passage by carrying merchants and residents in palanquins, using their martial arts to speed their journey.
As mountain paths opened everywhere, the government refrained from intervening as long as there were no significant casualties.
Moreover, the taxes and bribes funneled through local officials by the Green Forest groups were rather lucrative.
Thus, the government maintained a lenient attitude toward the martial world.
It wasn’t because the government couldn’t control the martial world, but because prominent martial artists—those with lofty titles and reputations—paid enormous taxes.
Imagine a renowned martial artist being labeled a ‘tax evader’. It would be a disgrace of the highest order.
Most orthodox martial factions paid taxes akin to those of major merchant guilds or noble families to maintain their sects or clans.
The government could suppress the martial world—through wealth, military strength, and even superior martial skill if needed.
But the waste of unnecessary resources, manpower, and the massive recovery costs after total devastation made it more pragmatic to let things be.
If there is anyone the court cannot control, it is only one man.
The national hero, the Sword Saint, Murong Tian.
Should he ever come to Beijing, it would be necessary to summon all the city’s soldiers to hold a grand parade, welcoming him as a triumphant general.
Such an honor would be essential, at the very least, to maintain even a semblance of moral authority over the Sword Saint.
As such, the imperial court has kept a close and constant watch on the movements of the martial world.
Not only because decades ago, a faction within the imperial palace conspired with the Demonic Cult to stage a rebellion,
but also because the stability of the martial world is absolutely crucial for the moderate governance of the nation.
And now, one of the imperial palace’s elite warriors stands at the southern gate of Beijing, gazing intently beyond the city walls.
Some might think it’s vigilance.
Others might assume she’s watching for distant enemies.
But the woman, clad in black martial robes embroidered with golden threads, known as the [Invisible Sword], Yeo Tiang, is observing the numerous carriages traveling along the main road south of Beijing, heading toward Liaodong.
“Are you spying on the carriages bound for the Murong family again, Imperial Palace’s Finest Sword?”
“…Lord Taehwan.”
An elderly man with white hair, referred to as Lord Taehwan, stood beside Yeo Tiang.
Though advanced in years, he appeared robust and wore the robes of a eunuch.
“Why don’t you take a break and rest? Surely it doesn’t matter anymore who’s heading to the Murong family.”
“…”
“In the end, only three people are truly important: the Sword Saint, his daughter, and the doctor who treated his daughter.
If we can bring just these three to Beijing, the imperial authority will rise to even greater heights.”
“Are you planning to officially draw martial artists into the imperial palace?”
“Why not? After all, both you and I are practitioners of martial arts. If we shed our official robes and become wanderers, wouldn’t that make us martial artists?”
Lord Taehwan pulled a white fan from his sleeve and opened it with a flourish.
“The distinction between a martial artist and a court official ultimately comes down to this: do you live for yourself, or do you live for others? When that life for others involves serving as a salaried member of a national organization within a bureaucracy, you’re called an ‘official.’”
“Then those who live freely, unbound by formality, are martial artists, as you suggest, Lord Taehwan.”
“Strength and freedom are proportional. Look at the Sword Saint.
Wherever he resides becomes the center of the Central Plains, and the swing of his sword presents a challenge to both the court and the martial world.”
“…”
“That is why this old man wishes the Sword Saint would enter the imperial palace.”
“I believe that would be a mistake.”
“Hmm?”
“Instead of targeting the Sword Saint, we should focus on his son-in-law.”
“The doctor?”
Lord Taehwan tilted his head in curiosity.
“Why?”
“Because what moves the Sword Saint is his daughter, and what moves his daughter is, ultimately, her husband.”
“You propose bringing into the imperial court a living thunderbolt, one who harbors solitude in his heart and could explode at any moment?”
“If managed carefully, it won’t detonate. And even if it threatens to explode, we can cut it down before it turns Beijing into a sea of fire.”
Yeo Tiang gestured alternately to the sword at her waist and to Lord Taehwan’s.
“Securing the ‘Dragon of Medicine,’ Seok Mu-wol, is the easiest and fastest way for the court to establish a dominant position over the martial world and suppress any unrest they may incite.”
“I see. So that’s why you’ve been advocating for bringing in the doctor.”
“Yes.”
“Understood. Then I won’t press further. But…”
“But?”
“Don’t set your expectations too high. You’re still young enough, and even if you tried to become younger, it wouldn’t mean much.”
“…I’ll take that as a compliment, though I suspect it wasn’t.”
When Yeo Tiang replied with a stern expression, Lord Taehwan shrugged and raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Let’s leave it at that. For a moment, I thought you might pull a stunt like the Sword Empress did, reverting to your twenties and storming the Murong family manor.”
“Do you think it would be any different for Lord Taehwan?”
“Me? Hah, my dear friend, why would I act as recklessly as the Sword Empress, causing a commotion? I am content with my age. I’ve aged quite gracefully.”
“If it weren’t about regaining youth but about… restoring something else, Lord Taehwan, you’d already be pounding on the front gates of the Murong family manor instead of standing here in Beijing.”
“That’s…”
Lord Taehwan looked up at the sky, smiling faintly.
“An impossible dream.”
“…….”
“How could something that has been severed and lost return? The Nine Yin Vein Disorder may be curable, but if something was cut off and gone for decades, how could it ever be healed? This isn’t an illness—it’s just… gone.”
His eyes grew faintly moist.
“No matter how much you long for something, continuing to dwell on what cannot be achieved is what we call delusion.”
“…….”
“And delusion… is just hollow imagination. A dream that will never come true.”
Lord Taehwan wiped his eyes with his sleeve and shook his head resolutely.
“The power of love might cure a lover’s Yin Vein Disorder, but it cannot restore a lost root.”
* * *
Meanwhile, here.
The Hebei Peng Family estate.
In the deepest part of the estate—Supreme Elder of the Peng Family, Poison King’s residence.
“Restore a lost root…?”
Poison King crumpled the letter delivered by carrier pigeon in his fist.
“How dare this person mock me!”
What is lost cannot return.
“Not only does this man treat me like a bald fool, but now he claims he can fix it? What nonsense!”
That is common sense.
If that were overturned, it would be called a miracle.
And miracles are not for just anyone.