97.he sensed an unfamiliar presence.
they expecting? That very vagueness bred looseness, and without tension they grew lax.
The Black Blade's subordinates who had embedded themselves among the soldiers wandered about committing every manner of abuse, while those inside the county office manipulated the magistrate from behind the scenes, devising and carrying out evils a man could imagine. Idleness is a sin. It drives men toward wrongdoing and dulls even the faintest sense of guilt. When a person grows numb and becomes accustomed to cruelty, the very concept of value erodes. And it erodes because there is nothing else to do.
Breaking the bridge at the entrance to Jingajang was a trivial matter by comparison. Under the pretense of military drills, they trampled through the estate's domain. Though no crops had yet been planted, the harassment clearly aimed to intimidate. The fields had not yet been plowed, yet the ground had already been ruined.
They set fire to the hills. They harassed women who had come out to wash clothes. Their abuses defied description.
From the Black Blade's perspective, the order had likely been simple: go and observe. But these men did not limit themselves to observation. They wielded power beyond the authority of local officials. They believed that General Jin Muguang was dead, and that Jingajang would soon be torn apart. Power works like that. When it senses the cord has snapped, it tramples without restraint. It convinces itself that such cruelty is permissible. What should have been confined to their own affair spread outward, and there were men among them who did not hesitate to crush family and kin along with their target.
Yi Hee believed they had to be made to withdraw. He could kill them, but that would invite suspicion from the head of the capital and draw more Black Blade operatives south. For Jingajang's safety, it had to appear unnecessary to continue the surveillance.
The White Dragon Unit, however, was ill-suited to covert work. Fortunately, the Black Blade operatives had grown bold after learning of the General's death and had begun moving openly. One even patrolled the perimeter with a subordinate, as if to make it visible that they were circling the estate. They did not fear exposure while conducting surveillance.
Meanwhile, the White Dragon Unit rested in separate quarters, easing their fatigue with food and wine provided by the General's household. The dishes were refined, the hospitality devoted. The entire family welcomed them as though a son who had journeyed far had returned home. The generosity tightened his chest. The thought that it would have been better had the General come with them weighed heavily on his heart.
Yi Hee rode out with one man. As he circled the area on horseback, he sensed an unfamiliar presence. What his martial awareness detected was not the aura of an ordinary fighter. It was the same breed of martial man, yet different in texture—an extreme, pitch-dark killing presence that clung like rot. Was it wickedness? A sensation honed solely for necessity, foreign and foul, crept across him. Not a warrior. Not a soldier. A killer. That was closer. A man who would not hesitate to take a life.
"Black Blade?"
Yi Hee forced himself to doubt his own senses. As he moved to trace the source of the feeling, the presence that had lingered vanished. No—he was wrong. Of the two Black Blade infiltrators, one perched in a tree overlooking Jingajang, watching its interior, while the other hid in a hollow at the base of the rear wall. There might even be one already inside. Yi Hee steadied himself. Handling them as he would ordinary soldiers could create complications later. He needed a plan.
Yet what had first brushed against his awareness had not been them. There was something else. A presence damp and shadowed. Beyond the men he had already identified, he sensed another, though he could not define it. Yi Hee made a deliberate show of moving broadly through the area, scouting openly. Feigning ignorance of the two men, he walked beneath the tree.
The one hiding pressed himself flat against the trunk, holding his breath.
"If you stay there, you'll take an arrow during the hunt."
Then he stepped beside the man concealed under an overturned cover by the wall and murmured,
"I'll bury you. Keep that up and I will."
Their breathing faltered. He could hear it.
From among the county troops, he dragged out three men belonging to the Black Blade faction. They might excel at ambush, but in broad daylight, face-to-face, they were nothing—vermin. Battle does not have to be honorable, but he already knew their cruel methods. They would use a comrade's death as leverage, discard everything necessary to live for the sake of a single decisive strike. A human life may be fleeting like morning dew, but it is not without value. Their contempt for life had crossed a boundary. And perhaps that was why he felt he could treat them without restraint.