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Jin Cheon's kitchen.
Yang Un-bi's face had gone rigid as he looked at Jin Cheon.
Then, pointing with his fingertip at Ho Il-do, who was faintly visible through the bead curtain, he spoke.
"He's no ordinary man."
Befitting a Chiliarch of the Embroidered Guard, Yang Un-bi himself was a Peak-level Expert. And yet even his Energy Sense couldn't grasp Ho Il-do's true level of skill. Which meant he was an expert beyond Peak-level.
If his apparent age was similar to Jin Cheon's or Yang Un-bi's—
W̊е̃ bn̄о v̌ е l̆ En̆ ú m̃ а
"Probably that rumored disciple, then."
"...!"
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
"Only someone at that level would be called the next absolute ruler of the martial world or whatever, don't you think?"
Jin Cheon said it lightly, as if it were nothing much.
But, for Yang Un-bi—who had come to investigate Jin Cheon and Heavenly Sword Castle—it wasn't something he could shrug off so easily.
The Six Disciples of the Heavenly Sword.
W̄ě.b̈ṅо́ v ѐľ Ӗ_n u m ǎ
Proof that the Heavenly Sword had brought the entire martial world to its knees, and disciples who displayed the standing of Heavenly Sword Castle. That was because the Heavenly Sword had gone and seized the most talented figures from every place of note in the martial world, under the pretext of taking them on as disciples.
For instance, the Young Sect Master of the Demonic Cult had held out for three days and three nights, taking blows from the Heavenly Sword right in front of the Demonic Cult's main gate, refusing to become his disciple. It was an incident that properly showed the spirit of the Demonic Cult's people, but—
—Shall I drag your Sect Master here by the hair, then?
—And shall I go seize every last elder and officer beneath him and string them up?
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The Heavenly Sword was a man who always kept his word once he'd spoken it. Faced with such sincere threats from the Heavenly Sword, the Young Sect Master eventually agreed to become his disciple.
Perhaps thanks to that, the peerless genius Mudang had been raising afterward became a disciple with ease.
Еn ǔ m̂ а. іd̆
—A wicked scheme to sever off their future!
—To bring the martial world to its knees with the sword and then take hostages like this.
What did it mean to be the most talented, after all? It meant seizing the very best in each place, the ones who were meant to be its next successors.
Even so, as time went on, the accusations of hostage-taking gradually died down. They were hostages, hostages to be sure, but they were treated so well that it was hard to fathom what the Heavenly Sword was even thinking. Not only were they disciples in name, they were truly passed down the Heavenly Sword's own genuine martial arts, and the factions of the disciples within Heavenly Sword Castle received unmistakable preferential treatment.
—There's no chance of claiming the realm in this generation anyway.
The great powers of the martial world came around, one by one, to accepting the order that the Heavenly Sword alone had created. There was no need to stir up trouble when simply following him quietly would earn them martial arts, money, and honor besides. So what they were after instead was the next generation. The Heavenly Sword was alone, while they had history behind them. People die in the end, but sects like the Demonic Cult and Mudang had weathered hundreds of years with ease, and would go on weathering more.
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And so, everyone worked beneath the surface, backing their own disciples, aiming for supremacy over Heavenly Sword Castle.
—A realm under the Heavenly Sword actually suits us fine!
In the old days, one would have had to ride a horse or run ten thousand li across the Central Plains using Lightness Art to conquer it, but now, simply seizing "Heavenly Sword Castle" alone was enough to bring the whole martial world to submission.
"But then—the last disciple, Ho Il-do, has no backing at all."
Given Ho Il-do's hearing, he'd catch every word from the kitchen even standing outside, so Yang Un-bi lowered his voice. But Jin Cheon flicked a finger, saying it was fine.
"I've sealed it off. Speak freely."
E nü m̄ǎ._і̇d
Yang Un-bi's eyes went wide. For Jin Cheon to say he'd sealed it off and that they could speak freely meant he had circulated his internal energy without a trace and thrown up an Energy Barrier around the kitchen. It was startling enough that he could spread an Energy Barrier over this much range, but the fact that he'd done it this covertly left him briefly at a loss for words. Still, he supposed this was simply what it meant to be the Baleful Star, and went on.
"The other five all came from places you'd recognize the moment you heard the name, but Ho Il-do—apparently the Heavenly Sword just picked him up off the road."
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"Picked up—?"
For some reason, Hong-hwa came to mind. But, wondering whether that meant he'd been picked up, or it was fate, or simply how things had turned out over the course of living, Jin Cheon gave a short laugh.
Jin Cheon listened to Yang Un-bi as he tidied the cutting board and began sorting out which ingredients to pull for the cooking.
"He says he saw the makings of someone who could master the martial arts to greatness while passing by, and brought him along on the spot. Because of that, he never really blended in with the other disciples, and it's said his conduct is too light for the weight of being one of the Six Disciples of the Heavenly Sword."
We b̌n о v̆ е l̄_ En u m̄ а
"Light how, exactly?"
"The general opinion is that he simply doesn't measure up to becoming the Master of Heavenly Sword Castle who'll hold sway over the next generation's martial world..."
Yang Un-bi trailed off.
It had been something he found fascinating while investigating Heavenly Sword Castle, so he'd spoken about it with excitement, but partway through, he began to wonder whether he ought to be saying this to Jin Cheon of all people.
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The Undying Blood Path, so named because he had never once died on any blood-soaked road.
The End of the Fist Way, so named because the moment he raised his fist, he settled every battlefield.
Ѐ ṅ um̃а̃
And Jin Cheon—the Baleful Star, who overwhelmed the land of the North the instant he scattered his crimson aura like the stars of the sky above.
If the Heavenly Sword had pacified the martial world, then Jin Cheon had pacified the North. Placing the two side by side, there wasn't even room for comparison, and Yang Un-bi suddenly felt embarrassed for having told Jin Cheon how impressive that disciple was.
"I'll need to watch him a bit longer to know what kind of person he really is, but from what I can see, he seems to have his head on straight, and I like that."
Jin Cheon glanced briefly at Ho Il-do. Between his position alone and the martial arts he carried, the man was someone who could hold an entire castle in the palm of his hand. And just as Yang Un-bi had said—that he'd been seized by the Heavenly Sword for his talent alone—he did look quite dazzling to Jin Cheon's eye as well.
But what good is that, if he doesn't become a proper person.
No matter how well you handled a blade, in the North, you still died to someone who handled it better.
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Martial strength was common. Perhaps that was why so few managed to become proper people alongside their strength, and it was exactly those few who lived long. Jin Cheon liked that Ho Il-do showed consideration for Old Master Chef and didn't put on needless airs.
"And, Chiliarch Yang."
"Loyalty—"
Yang Un-bi hastily straightened his posture. Even without going as far back as Garrison Commissioner Son telling him to just do whatever he was told, he'd never once dared to think of disobeying Jin Cheon's word—
"You're Assistant Yang now."
He hadn't had that thought at all—well, a little, now.
E nú ṁ а̄. і d̄
"...I'm really to be an assistant?"
"Should I make it a fake one, then? Being from Sacheon, you're someone I can trust."
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Jin Cheon nodded calmly.
After all, right in front of Jin Cheon, who treated even Disciple Ho Il-do like an ordinary guest, what did rank matter, whether Embroidered Guard or Chiliarch? Even so, he'd assumed it would only be in name as a kitchen assistant, and that he'd be told to manage a district the way the Black Spirit Faction used to. But when he was told to go straight and wash his hands and come to the kitchen, he could hardly believe it.
"Being from Sacheon, that's something I'll trust."
"L—Loyalty!"
Е̂_ṅ u m̆ а
"This isn't a battlefield, what's with the loyalty? Just say you understand."
"Understood, Master."
"For now, just watch and learn."
Yang Un-bi followed Jin Cheon's words at once, like thread following a needle. And as he surveyed the kitchen, still bearing Heuk Do-chi's touch here and there, he began hurriedly memorizing where the ingredients and tools were kept.
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The Embroidered Guard wasn't a place one could rise through on martial strength alone. One had to be reasonably political and quick-witted, and since he'd risen all the way to Chiliarch, he was bound to be sharp on his feet.
Being from Sacheon, he'll probably have a good palate too.
Еṅ ūm̂ а.і ḋ
Maybe because it was the old capital of Chok, anyone from Sacheon gave off the feel of a true gourmet. He hadn't properly looked into Yang Un-bi yet, so he couldn't be certain, but from the way he carried himself, Jin Cheon had a feeling he'd do well.
Now then, I should get to my own work.
Jin Cheon mulled it over, opening and closing his grip on the worn kitchen knife again and again.
There are broadly two ways to be certain of beating well-made Shandong-style Cuisine.
Today, Jin Cheon had been fairly busy. Before kidnapping—no, recruiting—Yang Un-bi, he'd gone around various parts of Heavenly Sword Castle, checking what kind of food was typically sold and what people liked. Given Heavenly Sword Castle's geographic position, it was only natural that Gangso cuisine made up the majority of it. Besides that, what was popular was Jeolgang cuisine, known for being light and delicate, and it seemed a fair number of people from Anhwi had settled in as well, since Anhwi cuisine showed up quite a bit too.
And on top of that, Shandong-style Cuisine, which was mainly eaten in the Imperial Capital, was regarded as high cuisine here.
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It was, essentially, mostly cuisine from the south and east of the Central Plains. And what these had in common was that, on the whole, they were inoffensive and pursued overall harmony. Anhwi cuisine was a bit different, at least, but since its ingredients leaned heavily on wild mountain greens and freshwater turtles, it wasn't especially popular in Heavenly Sword Castle.
The first way would be to make that Ho Il-do fellow's hometown dish.
He didn't know it, though. Judging by his looks, he seemed to be from the south, but the south wasn't just one or two places, and he couldn't afford to guess carelessly. And given that even Hwa-ryeong, who was well-versed in Heavenly Sword Castle's information, didn't know it either, it seemed to be treated as something of a secret. Short of hearing it from the man himself, it would be difficult to find out.
If I knew where it was, I'd have this in the bag.
Shk!
He lightly gripped the kitchen knife. A sword meant for cutting people down and a knife meant for keeping them alive felt different from the very moment you gripped them.
Ẃеb̌.ṅ о̌ v e l̈ Е ṅŭ m̀а
Jin Cheon quietly closed his eyes.
—Captain, why are you doing this yourself?!
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—No, really, leave this kind of thing to us.
The sandy winds of the North carried a faint, lingering smell of blood mixed in. Perhaps that was simply how much blood people had spilled there. When a person died, holding a proper funeral was the right thing to do. Whenever there was a funeral in the Northern Army, Jin Cheon had gripped a kitchen knife just as he was doing now.
Back then, I used to wonder how many more funerals I'd have to see.
He'd cooked with all the care he had. Wanting the boys conscripted from the Nine Provinces and Eight Wastes to be able to eat the food of their hometowns even in death, he asked and learned from others who'd come from the same regions and made it for them. At first, everyone had eaten with their faces twisted, but gradually, as Jin Cheon grew more skilled at cooking, they all said they could taste home in it.
Еn̈ ū m a . іd̄
The trouble is, I suppose, that there were more than enough funerals for someone like me to grow skilled at cooking.
Jin Cheon opened his eyes again with a bitter smile.
Since there'd be a chance to look into Ho Il-do's hometown later, he set that aside for now and decided to bring out the second, surefire way to win.
"Assistant Yang, you spent a long time in the Imperial Capital, didn't you?"
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"Ever since becoming part of the Embroidered Guard, I suppose because I placed first in the exams, I've been stationed in the Imperial Capital the whole time."
"....."
Еn̄uṁ а̌..í_ḋ
Jin Cheon quietly looked at Yang Un-bi. Watching how readily he let slip these needless little details, Jin Cheon felt he understood why the man had stayed in the Imperial Capital all this while.
"Anyway, you must have eaten plenty of Shandong-style Cuisine as well, then."
"The most common restaurants in the Imperial Capital are Shandong-style, so I suppose that's true."
"Great Prosperity Restaurant's cooking happens to be exactly that."
"An adapted style?"
"No, just the authentic Gokbu-style we always see."
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"Then the method's a sure thing."
Yang Un-bi nodded.
He'd wondered why Jin Cheon sounded so certain, but now it made sense. Shandong-style Cuisine was mild and its flavors ran deep, but the trouble was that, eaten enough times, it all started to taste the same, and one got a little tired of it. Of course, ordinary people were lucky to eat it once a year, let alone every meal, so they'd never grow tired of it, but anyone who walked the Imperial Capital with their shoulders squared back went often enough to grow weary of it.
—Isn't there anything new?
The Imperial Capital was a paradise of gourmet food.
That was simply because the wealthy, venting their moods through what they ate, had driven its development in every direction. And in particular, much of that gourmet food had taken shape as a kind of answer to the existing Shandong-style Cuisine.
E n ü m а.i d̊
"You're from Sacheon, so you'd naturally have some, wouldn't you?"
Jin Cheon called out to him gently. It felt rather like a bandit he'd once met on a merchant road, who'd flashed a knowing smile as if to say, go on, show me everything you've got.
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Yang Un-bi finally understood why Jin Cheon had lit up so much upon learning he was from Sacheon.
"I was wondering how you knew—you must have seen plenty of it in the North."
Fumble, fumble!
As he said this, he pulled a small, red leather pouch from inside his robes. Jin Cheon untied Yang Un-bi's pouch and gave it a light sniff. It had that needling, almost pin-prickling sensation up the nose, yet with a faintly refreshing edge underneath—unmistakably Sacheon Mala.
Е̄n ūm а̀
Jin Cheon grinned and answered.
"Sure enough, you Sacheon folks always carry this stuff around."
Other regions were probably the same, but people from Sacheon in particular took pride in their cooking.
No, beyond pride—anything that wasn't Sacheon cuisine tasted bland and thoroughly dull to them. So whenever Sacheon people traveled far from home, they always packed a pouch of spices. Even when grilling meat on the spot, a sprinkle of it let them taste home.
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"...Could it be that the real reason I was made an assistant is that I'm from Sacheon—"
A reasonable suspicion crossed Yang Un-bi's mind.
Ẽn u m̈ а
"Bit of both."
Though of course, that was just the sort of answer one would expect from Jin Cheon.
Muttering to himself.
"So this is why the Baleful Star is the Baleful Star."
Yang Un-bi went and brought over the dough Jin Cheon had told him to fetch. It was dough he'd kneaded the moment he got back from Great Prosperity yesterday and left to rest, chilled, ever since.
Good, it's ready.
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Rather than soft, it had firmed up into something almost hard, with a dense, springy chew to it. It was exactly the texture Jin Cheon wanted.
Since it wasn't the kind of dough normally used, Yang Un-bi, who'd been watching, asked.
"What exactly are you making with this?"
"Noodles."
"...With dough like this?"
Of course, as a fresh new assistant, Yang Un-bi couldn't begin to imagine what kind of noodles Jin Cheon meant to make with it.
W̃ е b̃ǹ о̀.v̈ е̄ĺ Е̂n̄ ů m̀а
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