Self-Destruction

A back alley in Qingzhou, inside a shabby building.

“What did you say!”

Docheol, a lieutenant of the Great Saber Gang, bellowed it out, and when even that failed to work the rage out of him, he hurled the wine cup in his hand at the wall.

— Smash!

The cup burst against the wall in a spray of fragments, and the subordinate standing in front of him dropped flat to the floor at once.

“You’re certain that bastard Suje has been in bed with the Black Water Gang?”
“It came from the man we planted under Suje, so there’s no doubt of it. Word is Suje offered them half the territory to kill you and Manbong, Boss.”
“That filthy, worthless son of a bitch!”

Rage still riding him, Docheol brought his fist down on the table again and again.

— Crunch! Tinng-trrrrr—

The thick wooden table split in half and everything on it spilled onto the floor.

“I never did like the way he was forever working the small angles. Shameless little leech. He dares stab me in the back?”

Docheol’s face flushed red and hot. The subordinate in front of him spoke up carefully.

“Boss, what will you do? There’s the meeting tomorrow, isn’t there.”
“What do you mean, what will I do! I’ll go and split his skull open, that’s what!”

Docheol shouted, snorting with fury.

“Oi! Get every one of the boys together! Tomorrow’s the day we hold that bastard Suje’s funeral rites!”
“What about Boss Manbong? Boss Manbong is coming to that meeting too…”
“Bury that one along with him! I’ve been sick of watching him fasten himself onto whoever’s handy like the bat he is — I’ll kill him while I’m at it and eat the Great Saber Gang up myself! Get the boys together!”
“Understood!”

The roar sent the subordinate bolting out of the room.

“Rotten bastards. I’ll have the pair of them smelling incense from behind a folding screen.”¹

Docheol’s clenched fist shook.

At the same hour, Manbong’s quarters.

Manbong paced the room as though on edge.

Musam is dead. In a single night.

Of all the lieutenants in the Great Saber Gang, Musam had held the largest force, with the highest martial prowess and the most men under him.

And that same Musam was dead, at the hands of the Red Headband Hall’s boss.

The moment he heard, Manbong had hurried to band together with Suje and Docheol, the lieutenants who were left, but he was uneasy.

Neither of the two is a man you could trust…

Suje was uncommonly good at working the small angles, and something told Manbong the man would sell him out; Docheol, on the other hand, had nothing at all in his head. That alone would not have mattered if his temper had not been so vile. Once angered, he charged straight in without stopping to think. Tied into an alliance with men like these, Manbong felt the worry alone would drive him mad.

The best thing would be to go over to the Red Headband Hall — the trouble is I don’t know the man.

The Red Headband Hall was a new force, not long since taken into the Great Saber Gang, and its boss, he had been told, went by the name of Duho. That name was all Manbong had; he had never so much as seen the face behind it, and he had no idea what the man wanted or what sort of temper he had. The one thing he was sure of was that anyone who had taken Musam’s head in a single night and swallowed up his force was no one to underestimate.

He was still turning over what to do when a subordinate called to him from outside.

“Boss, you have a visitor.”
“A visitor? Who is it.”
“He says he’s Duho of the Red Headband Hall.”

Manbong’s eyes went round.

Why has he come to me?

What reason could Duho possibly have for coming to him? To kill him, the way he had disposed of Musam in a single night? No, that could not be it. If it were, he would not have come calling like this; he would have brought his men along and attacked. Then why, in heaven’s name?

Manbong’s head was a tangle, but he made up his mind soon enough. Turning it over would produce no answer anyway.

“Send him in.”

At Manbong’s word the door opened. Duho came in, a sharp-eyed man with a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Manbong’s eyes went to Duho’s hands, then to his waist. Seeing no weapon, he relaxed a little.

Once inside the room, Duho brought his hands together and gave Manbong a cupped-fist salute.

“I hope I find you well, Brother Manbong. Duho of the Red Headband Hall, at your service.”
“…Sit down first.”

Manbong took a chair and pointed at the one across the table. Duho sat where he was offered.

“Thank you for the welcome.”
“I don’t recall giving you one…”
“We’re at war, and you didn’t have me seized at the door — that’s welcome enough. I’m full of admiration for your nerve, Brother Manbong.”

The flattery drew a small cough out of Manbong, and the air, which had been all edges, softened a little. Letting the stiffness go out of his face, he asked.

“What’s your business with me?”
“Forthright, just as they say. Then I’ll come straight to the point myself. Throw in with us, Brother.”
“…”

Manbong’s face froze. Duho went on.

“As you’ll know yourself, Brother Manbong, we of the Red Headband Hall have eaten up Musam’s force. As a single force we’re the largest. It takes the three of you — Brother Manbong, Suje and Docheol — banded together to come out barely even with us.”
“So you’ve come to tell me to surrender? Give it time and the scattered men will attach themselves to our side rather than yours.”
“You have the right of it, Brother. Which is why we’ve no thought of dragging it out — we mean to go straight to the attack. And if we were to hit you, Brother Manbong, would Suje and Docheol come to your aid? Or would they use you for bait and go after our territory?”
“…”

Manbong had no answer for him, not because he did not know it but because he knew it far too well.

Of course they’d use me as the bait.

Suje and Docheol were men who would do that and more. And had either of them been the one attacked, Manbong would have gone off to eat up the Red Headband Hall’s territory in exactly the same way.

“Is that a threat?”
“Don’t take it so badly.”
“Strange words from a man telling me to my face that he means to hit me.”
“My apologies if it grated. I’m not proposing that we fight, Brother. I’m proposing that we coexist.”
“Coexist? What’s that supposed to mean.”

Manbong frowned, not following, and threw the word back at him.

“To be blunt — even leaving me out of it, the odds of you taking the Great Saber Gang are low, aren’t they, Brother Manbong? In the end it’ll be Suje or Docheol. But throw in with us and I’ll give you the gang leader’s seat.”
“What?!”

It startled a shout out of Manbong. Duho went on through the outburst, still smiling.

“Nothing to be startled at. It’d be a joint gang leadership.”

Expectation flashed in Manbong’s eyes, and then disappointment crossed them.

“You’re saying you and I lead the force together?”
“No. I’m not a big enough vessel for that.”

Manbong’s face set hard.

“Are you playing word games with me?”
“No. I’m the boss of the Red Headband Hall, but there’s one more man above me, you see.”
“Above? And who is that?”
“Yang Mujin, the Young Master of the Yang manor… ngh — sir.”

Duho tacked the honorific on in a hurry. Out of plain habit he had nearly said Young Master and no more, and had all but bitten his own tongue.

Manbong’s eyes widened.

“Yang Mujin? You don’t mean the eldest son of the Yang manor?”
“That’s the one.”

The answer left Manbong’s mouth hanging open.

The eldest of the Yang manor — isn’t that the half-wit who by all reports had no martial talent and never came out of the corner of his room?

Of course, the rumors coming in of late had been nothing ordinary. He had heard the stories himself: the boy had developed the healing pills and the wound salve people were calling famed medicines, and he had smashed the moneylenders under the Great Saber Gang’s wing. Still, Manbong had written him off as a greenhorn like any other, and now the Red Headband Hall’s real master turned out to be Yang Mujin. He had not expected it in the least.

So he played the half-wit and bided his time.

If so, the boy was no ordinary sort.

Manbong ran the figures quickly in his head. The joint gang leadership Duho was offering was not a bad deal. He had no head to match the cunning Suje and no martial prowess to beat the ignorant Docheol, and left as things were, it was plain he would be eaten by one of the two, or be dragged into their fight and end up the shrimp whose back bursts between two whales.

Far better, then, to hitch himself to the Red Headband Hall and become joint gang leader. His decision taken, Manbong spoke.

“This joint gang leadership — can you guarantee it for certain?”
“You’re asking what goes without saying. The Yang manor, our Young Master’s house, is an orthodox sect. They hold honor and their given word heavier than life itself. You’ve no need to worry.”

Manbong nodded at that. Honor and a given word. In the unorthodox sects they were worth less than a scrap of waste paper, but the people of the orthodox sects would lay down their lives for them, and just now the Yang manor’s standing as an orthodox sect was the finest guarantee Manbong could ask for.

“Good. I’ll take the offer.”
“An excellent choice.”
“What is it I have to do?”
“Hold a meeting with Suje and Docheol. Then, at that meeting, you strike them together with us. That’s all there is to it.”
“That’s convenient. As it happens, word came from that fellow Docheol that we’re all to meet tomorrow.”
“Ha ha. It seems this business means to go smoothly.”

Duho laughed brightly and rose from his seat, then put out his hand to Manbong.

“I look forward to working with you, Boss.”
“And I with you.”

Manbong stood and clasped Duho’s hand.

The next day, around sundown.

Duho and I arrived in front of the building where the three lieutenants were to meet. Outside it, the men of Suje, Docheol and Manbong had each taken up their own ground, watching one another warily.

An ugly mood.

There was nothing ordinary in the men’s eyes. Each side was watching the others while pretending not to, which meant the discord we had sown had taken root; their minds were probably on the fight to come already, and they were sizing up their enemies without meaning to.

I asked Duho.

“You’ve got the men placed properly?”
“Yeah, they’re standing by nearby. When Manbong’s boys strike first, ours go in on the same beat.”
“Good. Let’s head over to where they’re meeting ourselves.”

Duho and I slipped quietly around to the back of the building. When I eased the window open, I could see inside through the gap: three men sitting at a table. One was Manbong, whom I knew all about; the scrawny one was Suje, and the slab of muscle was Docheol. I listened closely, and the talk inside came through clearly.

“I’ll skip the long talk and go straight to the heart of it. The one who’s supposed to have killed Musam — it wasn’t Duho of the Red Headband Hall, it was that Yang manor brat Boss Black Leopard had his eye on.”

Good intelligence. But far too late.

Suje went on.

“A greenhorn called Yang Mujin, and he’s the Red Headband Hall’s real master. So on that — what I think is…”
“You’re full of shit!”

Docheol chopped Suje’s words off short. The sudden curse screwed Suje’s face up.

“You pig of a—”
“Don’t try to sell me that. Did you think I wouldn’t know you’d been in bed with the Black Water Gang?”
“What bullshit is this! Why would I be in bed with the Black Water Gang!”
“Shut your mouth! If you thought I’d hand over my neck meekly, you miscalculated! Boys! Take them!”

Docheol raised his axe and brought it down at Suje.

— Crunch!

The table burst apart and splinters flew. Suje, who had dodged the axe by a hair, drew his sword and shouted.

“Betrayal! Kill them all!”

On Suje’s and Docheol’s orders, the men waiting outside set about killing one another. In an instant the place was bedlam.

“Whoa, what an absolute shambles.”

Duho cackled. I watched the scene with my arms folded; there was no reason to step out now and take losses for nothing.

After a mealtime had passed, the uproar died down.

The three men in the room were in a bad way. Suje had taken the axe in the thigh and his leg was gouged open; Docheol had daggers buried in his flank and his shoulder. The only one unhurt was Manbong, who had stayed out of the fighting. Outside, with the Red Headband Hall joining in from where they had waited, matters were nearly settled.

“Let’s go in.”
“Suits me.”

I shifted my grip on the spear and vaulted through the window with Duho.

Suje and Docheol started and stared at the pair of us appearing out of nowhere. Then Suje recognized me and ground his teeth.

“So this was all your doing!”

I drove the spear into Suje as he came at me screaming.

— SHUNK!

Zha.

The spear point ran clean through Suje’s heart.

“Kh-hurk.”

With that last cry Suje let the sword fall from his hand. Docheol seized the opening and threw himself at me.

“Die!”

But Docheol did not get his wish.

— Crack!

Duho’s sword lodged in Docheol’s head. Without so much as a grunt, Docheol pitched straight to the floor.

A clean stroke.

With it over, Manbong let out a great sigh of relief and came toward us, his face all smiles.

“Haah— I’m alive. Docheol, the lunatic, meant to kill me too. Gave me a proper fright. Should I be calling you Boss Yang now? I look forward to working with you.”

Manbong rattled on cheerfully. I raised the spear and ran it into him while he chattered away, wide open.

“To be lumped in with idiots like tho— Agh!”

Manbong screamed. With disbelief on his face he looked at the spear buried in his own heart, then looked at me.

“Why… Cough!”

He could not get the rest out, and vomited blood.

“Being an orthodox sect doesn’t mean a man has to keep honor and his given word. All the less so with the likes of you.”

I twisted the spear. Manbong’s body shuddered, then went slack.

With that, the Great Saber Gang’s leadership was wiped out to a man, and the gang had fallen into my hands.

But there was no resting. I had only climbed a single step.

I had to press on toward the next.