Chapter 58
Part 8: A Pot of Meat Porridge
The first to move before anyone else was Jeong-a.
She approached Yeon Sang-hyeon and respectfully held out a small bamboo tube.
It was the bamboo tube containing his gold needles, which had been sterilized in boiling water after the last procedure.
"You bastard…! You… Luoyang…! My family…!"
As Yeon Sang-hyeon crouched beside the man, he jabbed the man in the chest.
"Be quiet."
From the pain of his broken ribs, the man could not even groan.
Yeon Sang-hyeon pulled a gold needle from the bamboo tube Jeong-a had handed him.
"If you keep talking, you'll damage your lungs."
Before the man could do anything in response, Yeon Sang-hyeon began inserting the gold needles into his body.
"If you move while the needles are in you, you'll really become crippled."
The man stopped moving.
***
After Yeon Sang-hyeon finished treating him, Jeong-a wrapped bandages around the man's gaunt body.
Meanwhile, the people who had cleaned up the ruined hall gathered again one by one.
They said nothing and stood guard around them.
Yeon Sang-hyeon said to the man, who was now sitting and breathing much more comfortably.
"While I was at it, I fixed your ankle too."
At those words, the man tried moving his ankle.
Amazingly, the ankle that had barely moved properly now turned.
"If you don't overwork it for a few days, you'll be able to work like before."
The man looked at Yeon Sang-hyeon with a trembling gaze.
"You, you are… You are…"
Yeon Sang-hyeon asked.
"Where did you serve?"
The man touched the tattoo on his shoulder.
"…The northern front."
Yeon Sang-hyeon nodded.
"Many people died there. And even more were wounded."
At his words, emotion surged up in the man, and he glared at Yeon Sang-hyeon.
"And when you somehow managed to return alive, your family had already lost their lives to the successive bad harvests."
The man's eyes widened.
As Yeon Sang-hyeon put away the needles, he said.
"…Many people were like that."
The man's head dropped toward the floor.
Yeon Sang-hyeon placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Even so, you returned safely. You worked hard. Soldier."
Tears burst from the man's eyes.
"You protected your homeland and your family."
As his tears flowed down, they turned into muddy streaks of grime.
No one in a high position had ever praised him after he returned home.
No, even when the war ended, he had never heard words of praise from any commander.
"Seeing how hard you lived, hard enough to twist your ankle…"
Yeon Sang-hyeon continued calmly.
"You must still have family left for you to look after."
At his words, the retired soldier nodded.
"Then keep living hard from now on as well. Not for the Emperor or the Sword Clan, but for your family."
Yeon Sang-hyeon continued.
"Never make the wrong choice. You are still standing beneath the bright sun."
At those words, the soldier raised his head and looked at Yeon Sang-hyeon.
"And you…?"
Just then, the crowd parted, and the triplet maids walked over carrying meat porridge in a small pot.
Yeon Sang-hyeon placed the warm pot into the soldier's arms.
At its warmth and scent, the soldier could not say a word.
The poison in his eyes completely disappeared.
"Thank you… Thank you…"
The soldier repeated only those words.
Again and again.
***
Yeon Sang-hyeon watched the retired soldier's back as he walked weakly out through the main gate.
He was holding the pot close, as carefully as if it were a treasure.
The Fourth Young Master silently took his eldest brother's hand.
Yeon Sang-hyeon held his hand in return and spoke.
"Do you know? That soldier was conscripted and sent to the northern front."
"…Conscripted?"
Yeon Sang-hyeon's gaze remained fixed on the soldier's back.
"At the request of the Imperial Palace and the yamen, the Sword Clan personally stepped forward and conscripted the young men of Luoyang. The targets were those from poor families."
The Fourth Young Master looked toward the soldier, but the man had already long since disappeared from sight.
"The reason was that they were easy to coax. Those who were conscripted were promised that their families would be looked after."
The Fourth Young Master's expression darkened.
He could already guess what kind of story would follow.
"But far from taking responsibility for their families, they didn't even have enough funds for the war at hand."
The Fourth Young Master's hand tightened.
"The Sword Clan and the yamen thought that taking responsibility for all of their families immediately would be a waste."
Those nearby held their breath and focused on Yeon Sang-hyeon's words.
They had calculated that after winning the war, they could distribute the spoils among those who survived.
But…
"The war was won, but it was a victory of nothing but wounds, and there was no actual profit."
The Imperial Palace never mentioned that war again.
There was not even the common triumphal ceremony, and they were busy disbanding the conscripted corps, which merely consumed food and supplies.
And during that war, the Central Plains Nation suffered from famine.
There were hardly any families left to welcome those who had barely survived.
No one thanked them.
No one spoke of the war they had risked their lives to fight in.
The soldiers who returned had to head to harsh labor sites just to protect what family they had left.
The yamen and the Sword Clan, fearing that they might cause trouble, eliminated everyone who might become a focal point.
"How could…"
It was another secret history that had been thoroughly hidden in darkness.
"..."
No one could speak from the shock. Amid that silence, the Fourth Young Master held Yeon Sang-hyeon's hand tightly with both of his own.
"Though it was only one person, I am glad that you were able to comfort even him, Eldest Brother."
Yeon Sang-hyeon raised his other hand and stroked the Fourth Young Master's head.
"I did nothing. I merely said in someone else's place the words he deserved to hear."
A bitter smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.
"A pot of meat porridge must have been of even greater help to him."
Yeon Sang-hyeon's gaze turned beyond the main gate.
"It was not because of any words of mine, but because he still had family left that he was able to find strength."
Yeon Sang-hyeon's voice was calm.
"And it was only because there was a pot of meat porridge that he could return while holding on to hope."
His gaze turned to the Fourth Young Master.
"If you intend to do great things in the future, remember this."
It was heavy advice for his youngest brother, who was responsible for a group.
"A leader must never fall into self-pity or self-love and distort reality."
The Fourth Young Master listened attentively.
"Remember this without fail: one pot of meat porridge held greater power than a hundred words from me."
"Yes, Eldest Brother."
The young scholars nearby also nodded their heads and engraved Yeon Sang-hyeon's words in their hearts.
At that moment, a female physician approached Yeon Sang-hyeon and said.
"First Young Master, it is time for the Charity House to close."
The sunset was gradually spreading across the western sky.
Yeon Sang-hyeon tightly held his youngest brother's hand and shook it.
"Now then, we should slowly head back as well."
The Fourth Young Master smiled brightly.
"Yes!"
***
While everyone was preparing to leave, Yeon Sang-hyeon was meeting with the old woman, the shamaness of the Fairy Order.
"Pardon?! Is that truly so?"
The old woman's hands trembled.
Yeon Sang-hyeon slowly shook his head.
"I do not know for certain either. I merely felt that way…"
He stroked his chin.
"When I thought back over the things that soldier had shouted…"
The root of all evil was the Sword Clan.
Luoyang was a giant pen for livestock.
A religion that sold mother to delude the ignorant masses.
"It was not content that a soldier from the slums could easily shout on his own. There is a possibility that he was taught by someone."
"…Indeed. There are similarities to 'their' methods."
The old woman nodded gravely at his words.
"I shall send people out to confirm it. However, for the moment…"
"All resources are lacking. I know. For now, at least check his home."
The old woman bowed deeply.
"Our abilities are so lacking that I have no words to express my shame."
Yeon Sang-hyeon gave a bitter smile.
"It is not your fault. How vast is this land of Luoyang, and how many people live here?"
He turned around and said.
"Wait just a little. The situation will soon begin to improve."
***
The soldier ran through the darkening alley in a single breath and reached a shack.
If his ankle had remained twisted, it would have taken him ten times longer than now out of fear that he might spill the porridge from the pot.
The First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Clan had said that if he rested for a few days, he would be able to use his ankle properly again, just as before.
If that happened, he would no longer need to fear having his wages cut in half.
If only that happened, then he and his younger brother would no longer have to worry about not even being able to put food in their mouths.
Still holding the warm pot, he carefully opened the door to the shack.
"Yeong-a, look at this. Guess what your brother brought?"
There was no warmth at all inside the shack.
But he did not mind in the slightest.
In Luoyang, where even firewood cost money, it was laughable for the poor to seek warmth.
"Yeong-a, are you sleeping?"
Inside the dark shack, he moved carefully in case he spilled the porridge.
He wanted to show the porridge to his younger brother as quickly as possible.
He wanted to see a bright smile spread across his brother's face.
"Yeong-a?"
His steps stopped.
His younger brother usually liked lying in the spot where sunlight came in.
That was why his younger brother was lying right there.
"Yeong-a?"
Having experienced war, he could tell at a glance.
His younger brother, lying there without the slightest movement, was already no longer of this world.
While his elder brother had been away, he had ruined his body and worked himself to exhaustion to support their family.
But in the end, all that was left to him was two useless legs and a family that had starved to death.
The pot in his hand fell to the floor.
The meat porridge splattered everywhere.
An unintelligible roar flowed from his mouth.
He embraced his younger brother's body, which had gone cold.
Several clear cuts were carved across his younger brother's wrist, and the blood that had flowed out had already congealed into a sticky mass.
It was suicide.
For the sake of his elder brother, who could not receive proper wages because of his injured ankle, it was the only thing a useless younger brother could do.
In his other hand, the boy was holding a clumsy carving he had made himself.
"Brother! It's a carving of Yak Seonnyeo!"
His younger brother had once said that with a bright smile.
"From now on, she will protect us brothers!"
With trembling hands, the soldier picked up the carving of Yak Seonnyeo that had been held in his younger brother's arms.
Screams and roars of unknown meaning burst from his mouth.
The carving of Yak Seonnyeo shattered.
The pot he threw rolled away, crumpled.
The meat porridge spilled across the floor mingled with his younger brother's congealed blood.
They had been right.
There was no such thing as salvation in this world.
The true sinners were not punished.
The worst villains did not suffer.
"Never make the wrong choice. You are still standing beneath the bright sun."
The words spoken by the First Young Master of the Sword Clan lingered in his mind for a moment, but soon vanished.
Through his younger brother's death, he was reaching the "truth" they had spoken of.
***
The sun had long since set, and his younger brother was merely rotting slowly in the cold night air.
He dug into the ground with both hands.
His fingernails all shattered, and all his fingers tore as he dug through the frozen earth, but he could not feel pain.
He took a small box out of the pit.
Inside that box were talismans inscribed with strange and ominous characters, and a candle as red as blood.
When he recited the incantation he had learned from them, a black-blue flame rose from the candle.
"Nirvana is false."
The talismans circled around his body.
"There is no paradise."
A gale blew, and the candle burned even more fiercely.
"The bodhisattva is dead."
The black-blue flame spread to his body, and he felt terrible pain.
"The immortals have departed."
But his lips did not stop.
An incantation imbued with a chilling and horrifying resonance flowed out on its own.
He wanted to scream, but what came from his mouth was only an incantation whose meaning even he did not know.
As his entire body burned, the words they had told him surfaced in his mind one last time.
"Remember, brother. The time of the end is now approaching."
The flames did not touch his surroundings at all and devoured his entire body.
Those flames even devoured the final tears that flowed from his eyes.
"Remember, brother. The time of salvation is now approaching."
His body became black ash.
And scattered somewhere.
"There is only one truth!"
All that remained where he had been was the pit and the small box.
"Only the Demon Cult shall purify this filthy world back to its primordial form!"
Silence came.
Frost was gradually settling over the corpse of a young boy.
And beside the corpse lay the head of Yak Seonnyeo's statue.
For some reason, that carving looked as though it were crying.