The Martial Alliance’s Commission (3)

Henan’s Zhengzhou was chosen as the Martial Alliance’s seat for a simple reason: nearby stood Shaolin, the strongest orthodox sect, and the Beggar’s Sect, the largest by headcount.

“This is the Martial Alliance. Have you ever seen such imposing grandeur anywhere in today’s Jianghu?”

Gal Hwi-jeong, the “Iron-Whip Literatus,” a Xiangzhu (Branch Chief) under the Alliance’s Investigation Unit, had come looking for Master Nam Yeong and ended up escorting Neung Je-gang to the Alliance. He talked incessantly.

But at Neung Je-gang’s one quiet “Please keep it down,” he had to clamp his mouth shut. For a chatterbox, silence demanded heroic patience.

That was why Gal Hwi-jeong now looked at Neung Je-gang askance.

His restraint crumbled once the Alliance complex came into view. He launched into another noisy boast about the Alliance’s majesty and, as if he himself owned the place, even bragged about the buildings.

“I’ve seen plenty.”

Neung Je-gang’s reply was firm. He had lived five years among the high towers and immense halls of Beijing; however large the Alliance seemed, it was a drop in the bucket compared to the Forbidden City. To him, the Alliance’s buildings were ordinary.

Smug bastard.

Gal Hwi-jeong swallowed the rest. He couldn’t pick a fight with a guest over where in Zhejiang he could have seen such a vast compound. Still, priding himself on being an Alliance man, he quietly nursed a grudge—classic petty-mindedness.

“Xiangzhu, you’ve returned?”

One of the gate guards saluted him.

“Ah! Yes, yes. Good work.”

Gal Hwi-jeong entered first; Neung Je-gang followed—only to be blocked by the guards. They clearly knew he was with Gal Hwi-jeong; the obstruction could only be that man’s mischief.

“Who are you to stroll in? State your identity.”

An ordinary person might have hurriedly called for Gal Hwi-jeong or babbled out an introduction. Outwardly, Neung Je-gang had nothing to beg for. He did intend to leverage the Alliance to hunt his enemies, but since they didn’t know that, it was no weakness.

He stood there as if thinking, expecting Gal Hwi-jeong to step in.

But the schemer feigned ignorance and walked on.

‘Oh? Trying to make me eat dirt?’

Neung Je-gang caught on at once.

Whoosh—

He simply turned on his heel and started back toward Zhejiang, without a hint of hesitation.

Now Gal was the one flustered. He’d hoped to vent his pique by siccing the guards on Neung Je-gang; instead, things went sideways. He had already reported to superiors that he would arrive with Nam Yeong’s disciple—if the guest turned back at the door, his own advancement would suffer.

“You curs! What are you doing to my guest? Out of the way!”

Barking to cover his tracks, Gal Hwi-jeong lunged to stop Neung Je-gang.

Slide—

Too late. Living up to the title “Secret Shadow,” Neung Je-gang slipped past him.

Gal Hwi-jeong started; his pride smarted. The youngster had embarrassed him in front of the guards. Forgetting his own ploy, he reached again to seize him.

Whoosh—

Slide—

Neung Je-gang evaded once more.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Blocking the path was one thing; laying hands on him bordered on provocation. That jolted Gal Hwi-jeong back to his senses. He wasn’t in a position to mishandle this guest.

“P-please, come in. The guards didn’t know—an honest mistake.”

He pasted on a smile and blamed the guards. They, having obeyed his covert orders, got scolded for nothing.

“Are you the second Secret Shadow?”

Led by Gal Hwi-jeong, Neung Je-gang stood before Go Won-gi, the Alliance’s Investigation Unit Chief, called “Sword-Wielding Sunset.”

Seeing how young he was, Go Won-gi looked incredulous.

“I am Secret Shadow.”

Neung Je-gang gave a light cupped-fist salute. Go Won-gi frowned. By age and rank, this youth was beneath him; and yet he offered only a title, not a name—insolent.

“In any case, you’re here. We should visit the scene first.”

He wanted the boy out of his sight. But Neung Je-gang wasn’t done.

“Before that… if you want me to take this on, there are conditions.”

“Conditions? You’ve heard we’ll send Special Assault Corps units to suppress the pirates in Zhejiang and Fujian—”

“That’s your condition, not mine.”

Bold as brass. Go Won-gi’s fist itched to strike.

“What are your terms?”

He regretted not building out the Investigation Unit more; then he wouldn’t be bargaining with a youngster.

“This could take a while… Is this how the Alliance treats a guest?”

Neung Je-gang glanced around, chiding them for not even offering tea. In the end, Go Won-gi had to summon attendants, set tea and seats—etiquette for a guest, however junior.

“Well? Your terms?”

He asked before the cup touched his lips. He was in a bind: with the whole Unit already deployed to another matter and now the massacre of Assault Unit 36, he was stuck.

“First, ten years of operating funds for Kuaiji Mountain—paid in a lump sum, ideally.”

“Funds for Kuaiji? They’re not Alliance members. Why should we pay?”

“Because Kuaiji has been doing the pirate-suppression the Alliance should have been doing. That much is only proper.”

“Pirate-suppression is our job?”

“If the Righteous Martial Alliance truly claims to protect the people, then yes—self-evidently your job.”

“Mm…”

He had no rebuttal. The Alliance’s founding creed was to defend the people; to deny that was to deny the Alliance.

“Your pledge of Assault Corps support is merely doing what you ought to be doing; it’s not a negotiating chip. And since the Alliance has deferred spending those funds on suppression, channeling them to Kuaiji is only right.”

Hemmed in, Go Won-gi had no graceful way to refuse. Neung Je-gang sipped his tea at leisure.

But Go Won-gi wouldn’t yield entirely.

“If we fund Kuaiji, does Kuaiji become part of the Alliance?”

“No. Kuaiji is Kuaiji. It cannot become the Alliance.”

“In that case, we cannot agree. We can’t bankroll an outside group; likewise, Kuaiji can’t demand our funds as a non-member.”

He drank, pleased with himself: to get the money, Kuaiji would have to join.

“No helping it, then. Let’s call it off… We’ll manage somehow. Thanks for the tea. Another time, perhaps. Farewell.”

Neung Je-gang rose, saluted, and turned away. The Alliance was the one in need; if they refused, he could simply walk.

“Wait!”

Of course, the needy party reached first.

“Fine—petty or not, we accept. On one condition of our own: you must identify the culprit behind the slaughter of the thirty Assault troopers. We can’t fund you with nothing to show.”

“Perfectly reasonable; I expected as much. One more request—merely a search, nothing onerous.”

“A person? A martial artist?”

“No. At least, not in the past.”

“Who?”

“Dam Ja-cheon and his daughter Dam Yeo-yeong, who lived near Seon-yeong, Cheonghae Province, over a decade ago. Thirteen years back, their whole family disappeared. I want them found.”

“Thirteen years… a long time. By when?”

“No deadline. Please assign the Beggar’s Sect until they’re found.”

“Not the Investigation Unit—the Beggar’s Sect?”

“Numbers. More eyes, more chance. These sketches are of their faces—drawn from memory as they looked thirteen years ago.”

He produced a scroll. Go Won-gi took it without unrolling—outsourcing to the Beggar’s Sect would be easy.

“May I ask why you’re seeking them?”

“I was commissioned. I can’t say more. Only this—it doesn’t seem to be a favor-debt.”

If any righteous sect was involved in his family’s massacre, this would make them approach him to learn the client’s identity.

“Any other conditions?”

“None.”

“Good. Then go to the scene at once. Don’t begrudge skipping rest; time is of the essence.”

“Understood.”

Neung Je-gang downed the now-cool tea and stood.

“Ah—Xiangzhu Gal will assist you. Ask him for whatever you need during the inquiry.”

Neung Je-gang gave a wry smile. Would the resentful Gal Hwi-jeong obey?

‘We’ll see when we clash.’

After he left, Go Won-gi flicked his hand.

Whoosh—

Someone appeared: black night-clothes, black face-veil—just like the covert operatives Neung Je-gang used to see at the Eastern Depot.

“Shadow him without being seen. Check if anyone is hindering his investigation; if so, identify them.”

“Yes. But… what’s in it for me?”

Unlike ordinary shadows who lived and died by orders, this one haggled. Go Won-gi’s face twisted.

“Insolent brat—what do you want?”

His reaction was odd as well.

“Mm… A drink at a pleasure house. And a rain of blood. That should do.”

“You damned child! You’re a girl. What business does a girl have at a pleasure house?”

He exploded. Strange, to flare up because the black-clad operative was a girl. What man wanted to enter a pleasure house with his daughter?

“Exactly because I’m your daughter, I’m asking you. If I were a man, I wouldn’t need to ask—I’d just go. Think about it: you teach me everything else; why not how to conduct myself in a pleasure house?”

So—the Black-Clad Shadow was Go Won-gi’s daughter. That was why she could name terms, and why he had to swallow it.

As his shout rose, so did her voice.

“Aiish!”

Go Won-gi clutched his hair and surrendered. He opened a drawer, tossed her something. She caught it and tucked it away.

“So-jeong!”

“Yes, Father.”

“Can we at least drop the pleasure house?”

“No. I learn everything.”

“Ugh! Do as you please. But my condition: if you lose that arrogant Secret Shadow’s trail even once, the pleasure house is off.”

“Thank you, Father. Don’t worry—I’ll be back.”

Swish—

Go So-jeong, the Black-Clad Shadow, vanished.

“I never should have taught that girl spycraft…”

Go Won-gi rued training his only daughter in the covert arts.