Chapter 774: Bloodline (8)

There is a rumor that somewhere in the Forbidden City, there is a great library where all the martial arts under heaven are gathered.

A treasure-house of martial arts completed back when the power of the imperial palace was strong enough to clutch the whole world in its fist, collecting every martial art on the earth and under the sky.

Some said the Son of Heaven had ordered every sect to submit their arts to him.

Others said that Zheng He, the great loyal minister of old, a great general, a great admiral, and a great explorer counted among the greatest in history, had collected all the martial arts on earth and that was why he left the land and went out beyond the world, out onto the sea.

Of course, a rumor was only a rumor; the imperial palace had never said a single word acknowledging the existence of any such martial-arts vault.

But for people of the Central Plains, who lived and died for martial arts, wasn’t it truly a dreamlike place?

So the Imperial Martial-Arts Archive’s importance was not whether it actually existed, but that it had to exist—an object of faith.

It was a place where they poured their dreams and hopes of someday going inside, learning peerless divine arts, and becoming a master whose name shook the world.

However, humans are animals that build hierarchies.

From the first appearance of private property in the distant past all the way to that far future homeland of Qing’s, hadn’t they always built thorough class societies?

So the dreams and hopes of those who had nothing were the everyday life of those who had.

The Imperial Martial-Arts Archive was no different.

Entrance to the Imperial Martial-Arts Archive, which every Central Plains native longed for with all their heart, was nothing more than part of Beom Yakgong’s everyday routine.

In fact, it went beyond everyday routine; it was part of his job.

Patrolling the Imperial Martial-Arts Archive was one of his responsibilities.

When he opened the door, the thick smell of paper and ink filled his nose.

Under the dim light of the night-pearls, the shadowy image of the archive came into view.

Night-pearls! Jewels that shone with their own light!

They were the greatest mystery in the current Central Plains, treasures so enigmatic that no one could understand the principle behind them—heaven’s grace made manifest.

But they left Beom Yakgong unmoved.

No matter how precious something was, if you looked at it every day, it was only natural that it stopped feeling precious.

The countless martial-arts manuals of the Imperial Martial-Arts Archive were the same.

No matter how many peerless divine arts lay scattered around, the number of martial arts a person could actually master in one lifetime was only a handful.

You picked one good internal art, learned one weapon art that matched it, then maybe one or two movement arts that suited the whole, and that was that.

You could go learn some other sword style on top, but wasn’t it hard enough to devote your whole life to digging into a single art and still not fully accomplish it?

Learning a bunch of different arts wouldn’t help much.

Most of them were just manuals you had to self-study with no master at all; just martial-arts books, nothing more.

Of course, the manuals in the Imperial Martial-Arts Archive came with more than ten volumes of detailed illustrations and annotated commentaries attached to each one so that a person could learn as much as possible on their own, but even so, the limits of learning without a master were clear.

If, without a master, you could completely understand the origins, principles, and entire system of a martial art, that would be another story.

If that were the case, then learning a vast number of martial arts would be to your advantage.

You could internalize their systems, compare them, separate them, recombine them, and raise your realm quickly.

At that thought, Beom Yakgong’s gaze drifted to one side.

Under the mysterious green glow of the night-pearls, he stared straight ahead, yet not at what was actually in front of him, but at some faraway place beyond it.

It was the gaze that only old men had—the look of someone re-chewing memories, tracing back through the past that had once existed in this space.

‘Wow, the smell of books. So good.’

‘My, do you mean to say you like the smell of books, Your Little Majesty? This humble servant has never once seen you read a single volume.’

‘Heehee, I just like the smell of books. But! Starting today, things are different! I’m going to read! I’m going to read martial-arts manuals! Hey hey, where is it? Where’s the real Moon-Maiden Sword?’

‘Ah, this way—’

‘No! That’s boring! I’m going to find it myself!’

The most impish little brat in the imperial palace, and thus the greatest troublemaker, loved by everyone in the palace.

As was usual for the Son of Heaven’s daughters, before she received the title of princess she was a little “lord” with no public name.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t that she had no name; her true name was a precious one that only members of the imperial clan were allowed to call, so everyone else just called her “Your Little Majesty,” “Little Majesty.”

That Little Majesty was scurrying busily around the archive.

‘What’s this? Saek-saek-something-something-lak Art? Beom, Beom, hey, guess. How do you read this one?’

‘That’s pronounced “Hwanjeop,” it’s a—ah—please give that to me. What on earth is a book like this doing in the archive...’

‘Hmm? Why? Is it precious?’

‘Such a thing is... ahem. Yes. It is a book that absolutely must not be damaged, so let us very carefully return it to its proper place.’

‘Okay! Here!’

The little Majesty who usually listened so well smiled bright and innocent—and the brat who never listened at all, when told to put it back where she’d found it, simply shoved the bedroom arts manual into Beom Yakgong’s hands.

So he could put it back for her.

They wandered around the Imperial Martial-Arts Archive like that for quite a while, peeking here and there, the little Majesty sounding out characters badly, making him guess the ones she didn’t know.

And then, it finally happened.

‘Huh? There’s something behind this book! Wow, someone hid it! Then this must be the Moon-Maiden Sword, right?’

To the little Majesty, the greatest martial art in the world was the Moon-Maiden Sword written by Acheong.

A hidden manual was the most precious manual, and the most precious manual was, obviously, Moon-Maiden Sword; she had not the slightest doubt.

The little Majesty yanked out the books and dumped them into Beom Yakgong’s arms.

Beom Yakgong only watched fondly, thinking, Ah, the Majesty is being a Majesty again.

But when he leaned in to put the martial-arts books back, he, too, frowned at the manual that had been wedged sideways in the spot the Majesty had emptied, tucked against the inside of the shelf like the upper stroke of the character for “two.”

What bastard had the gall to shove a manual in there instead of shelving it properly?

It was obvious: some punk who’d gotten into the archive had tried to hide it for himself so he could learn it alone. If he ever caught who it was—

That was when it happened.

‘Wow! Beom, Beom! Look at this! It’s words!’

‘Pardon? Gasp, Your Little Majesty!?’

It was the strangest sight he had ever beheld in his long life.

Letters were streaming out of the book in the little Majesty’s hands.

It was a ridiculous, impossible phrase, and yet the ink-lines were actually pouring into the air like spilled ink, swirling around the Majesty.

As the little Majesty giggled and squealed with delight, Beom Yakgong, in contrast, flung out his hand in shock.

In that instant, all the characters rushed at the little Majesty’s body and melted into her, vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye.

“Your Little Majesty? Are you all right?”

“Mm? I’m fine. What was that? Beom, you were like a total magician just now! Like an immortal! Can we do it again? Please? Hurry, come on?”

The little Majesty seemed to think Beom Yakgong had shown her some marvelous trick, and she pestered him endlessly.

All that was left was a single book, its countless pages completely blank.

And after that.

The little Majesty pulled and tugged at Beom Yakgong’s sleeves, chanting “one more time” as she hopped up and down, and when that didn’t work she threw herself on the floor.

But she soon gave up and went back to searching for the real secret manual of Moon-Maiden Sword.

And the next day, she strutted around saying she’d seen the Moon Lady in her dreams and received the true Moon-Maiden Sword from her, her shoulders puffed up, her nose in the air so high it might pierce the heavens...

Beom Yakgong’s eyes refocused.

The Imperial Martial-Arts Archive looked exactly as it had in the past, except now there was no little Majesty, and the only one who remained was himself, clearly older than he’d been back then.

Now that he stood at the entryway of Manifestation Realm, there wasn’t so much time left for him to enjoy life.

No matter how great a master you were, you could not escape time forever.

Of course, if he stepped up to the next stage of Manifestation Realm, he could stretch that time a fair bit longer.

Beom Yakgong drew a book out from his robe.

The title written on its old, worn cover was rendered in a sharp, fierce hand, as if the strokes themselves were whipping through the air.

Formless Vault.

The character “Vault” meant a storage house, so the title of the book would be “Formless Storehouse,” a storehouse without form.

Or it could be interpreted as a storehouse that contained Formless.

From that day on, Beom Yakgong had gone to every length to learn the truth about this Formless.

At first, it had been for the little Majesty’s sake.

It might look harmless for the moment, but who could say what problems it might cause later?

It might be some kind of dangerous magic or sorcery, so he had to learn what those letters were if he wanted to secretly resolve it.

He had to handle it on his own.

If it were known that someone had entered the Imperial Martial-Arts Archive without permission, even a member of the imperial clan would be guilty of a capital crime.

If anything, it would be an even greater crime because she was imperial.

Aside from the Son of Heaven, members of the imperial clan were forbidden to learn martial arts.

Purely cosmetic things like Immortal-Maiden Arts, which only had effects on appearance, barely even counted as martial arts.

Fortunately, the Forbidden City held extremely detailed records on the history of the martial world.

Naturally.

Before the Martial Celestial, martial artists had been seen as dangerous hunting dogs that might bite their masters, and after the Martial Celestial, they had been treated as the most dangerous political rivals.

If you wanted to guard against something dangerous, you had to know it well.

But the material was vast, and the contents varied wildly depending on the region and period from which each collection of rumors had been assembled.

On top of that, as the little Majesty’s personal bodyguard, Beom Yakgong hadn’t had much time to devote to research.

So quite a long time passed.

At last, Beom Yakgong managed to find records on a mysterious sect that had perished long ago, and on the unbelievable divine arts they were said to have possessed.

Formless Art. Lesser Formless Art.

A mysterious art that instantly understood any martial art and raised its user to the level of a skilled master.

It was less a martial art than a talent or special ability.

So if anyone had heard that rumor, they would have dismissed it as absurd nonsense.

But what Beom Yakgong had seen—

If Formless Art was that absorption of letters, then it was a martial art that could be used by only one person in an era.

And if anyone knew of a divine art like that, wouldn’t they obviously have fought among themselves to seize it?

Just like that sect which was said to have fallen to infighting.

Beom Yakgong gently closed the empty book.

Then he gazed down for a long, long time.

More precisely, he stared at the hand resting on the cover, at the back of that hand, at the skin shriveled and mottled with age spots.

*****

Yangsim Hall was the place where the Son of Heaven actually handled state affairs.

Hwanggeuk Hall was used only for audiences and large assemblies with all the officials.

The Son of Heaven’s work—mostly stamping documents, that is, granting imperial approval to matters of state—was done in Yangsim Hall.

And now, into that Yangsim Hall, the high officials of the Forbidden City filed in one after another.

But their faces were a little uneasy.

They had entered at the Son of Heaven’s summons, only to find lines of eunuchs and Golden Guard knights standing to his left and right.

In particular, the expression of the Minister of War, the Empress’s younger brother, was especially grim.

Among the eunuchs, there was no one from his Ministry of War faction, the Western Depot; among the Golden Guard, none of the martial men from the Ministry of War faction—that is, the Empress faction—were present either.

Of course, since the Empress was the Son of Heaven’s greatest ally, her faction was tacitly permitted.

In truth, the Minister of War, himself, inwardly welcomed the strengthening of imperial power, but the Empress’s stance was so hardline that what could he do?

His elder sister was practically the one who held the greatest decision-making power in their clan; he had no choice but to side with her.

Still, no matter how she felt, was she really going to resort to threats of force now?

He couldn’t help worrying about that.

He had no idea why she was going this far.

But that worry didn’t last long.

Soon, the Minister of War understood the Son of Heaven.

“The reason I have called you here at this time is to remove the misunderstandings between us and to sincerely ask your consent. The reason I wish to bestow the rank of Lady on Ximen Qing is...”

The Son of Heaven laid his heart bare.

He hated the martial world.

And to keep the martial world in check, he had to bestow the rank of Lady on a woman of the martial world.

He promised that the new Lady would never take a single step outside the palace, and said they were welcome to have that written down formally.

There was power in true sincerity.

When you opened up and honestly revealed your heart, it had a remarkable ability to dissolve built-up misunderstandings and bring about harmony.

And so, the ministers’ response?

“How can Your Majesty grant us a promise for the sake of your subjects? Such a thing would be too heavy for us to bear. Please just give the order, and we will simply obey.”

Problem solved, just like that!

It was only natural.

The ministers had thought the Son of Heaven wanted to borrow the martial world’s strength to increase the power of the imperial house.

So they had thrown themselves on the floor.

But if that was not the case?

If, instead, it was to drain the strength of the martial world and crush it underfoot, there was no reason to oppose it.

Besides, whether they were pro-imperial or not (there was no anti-imperial faction; that was treason), they were all bound together as the bureaucracy.

And the bureaucracy’s enemy was the martial world; the nation’s enemies were the barbarians.

It was not strange at all to join forces in dealing with the martial world.

The Son of Heaven, however, was a bit dumbfounded.

These were the same men who had sworn they’d rather die than agree to this, lying down on the floor in protest, and now here they were saying they’d do anything he ordered as long as he just gave the word.