Chapter 52: Inheritance |
Song couldn’t believe his eyes. Lee Seojoon, the Black Stallion of Changpo, the proudest son of the Lee clan, blubbering on the floor while his father berated him in front of the entire council. And had he really just said that he’d be willing to give up his bid to take Juwon’s place as heir??
Seok’s face was red with rage as he stalked out of his usual position and stood over his son. His broad shoulders heaved, and his arms shook from the sheer force of his clenched fists.
“You have no right to make that decision on your own!” He roared, grabbing Seojoon’s arm and trying to pull him up. “You will lead these men one day. You cannot show such weakness!”
Seojoon yanked away and thumped his head back down to the floor. His reply was muffled by the carpet. “Why not? Is it weakness to bow one's head for family? What’s the point of strength and power if it cannot be used to save what's most important?”
“The point is power!” Seok roared, stomping his foot. His shoe sparked with green Wood qi and the yurtwagon rumbled. “If you had more power, and our clan wasn’t this weak shell of what it once was, we wouldn’t be in this position in the first place!”
“Pure hubris! Even the five Noble clans must make sacrifices,” Seojoon snapped back, his forehead still nailed to the floor.
“Do you even know what I’ve sacrificed for you? Don’t you speak to me of sacrifice!”
“And it’s because of that sacrifice that I respect you, Father!” Seojoon was practically pleading now. There was a quaver in his voice that made it clear that the man was weeping. “What if it was me? Would you throw me away so easily, like a picked changpo flower that’d grown wilted?”
Seok’s voice became cajoling, He laid a placating hand on his son’s back. “That’s different, you’re my heir! My legacy!”
[“No.”] Song replied, though he truly wanted to do so himself at that moment.
“And Mae is my little sister!” Seojoon retorted. “A precious person I swore to protect! If I don’t do even this much for her, can my men trust that I truly have their backs? Don’t – don’t you love her too?”
Seok stepped back as though he’d been slapped, his face turning an ugly shade of purple.
Seojoon’s followers, who’d been shifting uncomfortably all this time at seeing their young leader like this, flinched. Many of them still looked doubtful, but most straightened up, their faces firming. Their jaws set and the eyes they laid on Seok were no longer deferential, but hostile.
Up on his throne, Lee San must’ve seen the change as well, his calm detached face cracking into a smile for the briefest of moments. He cleared his throat, and Seok and Seojoon paused their little drama to look up at the Patriarch. Lee San leaned his elbow on his chair and placed his chin on his fist, every inch of him radiating disinterest.
“If we use our stocked foundation ritual components for Mae's treatment,” San asked, indicating for Minsu to answer. “How long would it take for us to collect them once more?”
“Ah,” the physician hedged, warily stepping away from the interplay between father and son. “At least thirty years. And the cost would be inestimable.”
“But it is possible?” The Patriarch asked, pulling at his beard. His eyes flickered between his own sons, scattered throughout the yurtwagon.
“Yes. But…” Minsu shot a guilty glance between Juwon and Seojoon. “It would mean that if we have two clan members who both seek to advance, only one will be able to do so in their lifetime. And their cultivation will be severely delayed, at that.”
Even Song, who loved Mae dearly, could feel the weight of that statement. Seojoon’s shoulders trembled. The Elder’s words made it clear – what Seojoon was asking wasn’t just for the clan to make a sacrifice for his sister. But to sacrifice the future of every child in the clan. Having two foundation level cultivators was enough to cement the Lees’ place as the strongest clan in Changpo, and three was enough to gain the notice of the Imperial court.
But if something happened to the Patriarch or Lee Seok in the thirty years before Seojoon or Juwon could ascend… the Lee family might be left with none.
The fear in Song’s heart bloomed. In his inner nightmares he could hear Mae’s voice, calling his name. The dream from last night reared its head, the plum flowers falling to the ground, the sound of howls and gnashing thorny teeth.
“Song.”
“Song!”
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[“SONG!”] Cyrus’s voice interrupted his thoughts. [“Pay attention.”]
Song looked up sharply at the sound of his name. Had his father just –
He realized with horror that everyone in the yurtwagon was looking at him.
“Um. Yes?” He stammered.
“You have a core level master,” his father said, quietly. “Is there any chance they might be able to help?”
Hope bloomed in Song’s heart, followed by a rush of despair. “No. I don’t even know where my master is. He said he’d return at the start of the monsoon season.”
“Soon, then.” San nodded. “How much time does Mae have?”
“Half a day.” Minsu shook his head. “If I use the least of the ritual materials we have on hand I can keep her stabilized for one or two at the most. That’s all I can do, unless one of you happens to have an unused treasure full of blood and Wood qi on hand.”
San looked over at Seojoon, who was still bent over in kowtow. “But it’s a possibility?”
“Yes. But it would depend on Song’s master.”
Song wanted to shrivel into a hole and die. Ah yes. His master. The Demonic Crane.
[“Will that old monster really help?”] Cyrus asked. [“He didn’t strike me as, uh, the type to go out of his way for some random human.”]
[“Don’t know.”] Song replied honestly. [“He did for me.”]
[“I feel like that was a special case. Is there really no other way? Seojoon’s a stuck up prick, but I feel bad for him. And really bad for Mae.”]
[“No.”] Song replied. If only Master Crane was here already. If only he wasn’t just a helpless child! If only he –
He stopped mid-thought. Blood and Wood qi. Where had he…
“Wait!” Song shouted, raising his hand for attention. “I know where there’s a Wood qi treasure, and it’s nearby!”
He stepped out from the general throng and into the cleared center space. He had a sudden recollection of his last time here, and of all the hostile faces and the hard questions, but he tamped the memory down. “Do any of you remember that peddler named Nam Gwansoo? He had a Five-Thousand-Year Oak Heart. Merchant Nam said that it was strong with blood and Wood qi. Would that be sufficient, Elder Minsu?”
Minsu’s eyes widened. He scratched his head, and considered, then answered, “Yes. Yes I think it would. But how much would such a treasure cost?”
Song gulped. “Five – five hundred gold.”
“Do you have any guarantee that it’s real?” Minsu frowned. “He could be a dishonest merchant.”
Song hesitated. “Father seems to think he’s legitimate.”
There were shocked murmurs, and everyone looked up at the Patriarch. Lee San sighed. “Elder Subin? What’s the state of our purse?”
Subin, the Elder in charge of finances, frowned. “The coffers are bare at the moment. We just spent far too much gold for rice, and the imperial garrison refused to buy our horses until the grasswolves are dealt with. We have fifty gold until that happens.”
San stood up, his arms spread to the crowd. “Does anyone in the clan have any further gold they’d be willing to give for our Lee Maehwa?”
Hands went up, and a count began. In the end, the Lee clan of Nakjo was able to gather up a scant fifty more gold amongst all their members. On the floor, Seojoon’s back shook and his sobs could be heard even through the thick carpet. Seok stared at his son with contempt, turned his back on the crowd, and swept out of the yurt. His wife, Haru, pitter-pattered after him a moment later.
[“Jerk.”] Cyrus muttered.
Calls went up for ideas to quickly raise the money. They could bend their heads to the Yus or the Jos. They could go out and kill all the grasswolves right now then chase after the army and ask for an advance. They could beg the merchant to show mercy. The cacophony soon built to an unhelpful volume.
Cyrus tried explaining something he called a mortgage. But Song couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and didn’t pass it on.
After about five minutes had passed there was a commotion at the entry flap, and Seok stormed back in, a large wooden chest in his hands. He threw it on the ground in front of Seojoon, and it landed with a thunderous crash.
And hundreds of golden shimmering yuanbao fell out of it and scattered across the floor.
Seojoon lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes wide with wonder. He grabbed one of the golden boats and tested its weight. “Father… what is all this.”
“Your inheritance. Three hundred and fifty gold,” Seok replied, his voice tight. “I gathered it to buy the ritual components for your advancement. Through bounties, scrimping and saving, and odd-jobs for the clan. I gathered these for decades, and have sources all lined up to buy ritual materials from. If you want to throw away your future, then do it with your own hands. But never, ever, say that I don’t love my children.”
San descended from the patriarch’s chair, and bent down to pick up one of the gold bars. His face was creased with pain. “Brother. You were trying to buy them on your own? Why? I would’ve helped you – ”
“Because I know you, Brother!” Seok shouted, whirling on his younger brother. He stalked forward and stuck a finger in San’s chest. Standing next to the Patriarch, the difference in their abilities was clear – Lee San stood a full head taller, his horns were larger, and his qi thicker. “You aren’t like Father. You’re too soft. You’ve been putting off naming your heir for this long because you were still hoping that your Juwon would show promise. I wasn’t going to let you steal my son’s future, like you stole mine!”
With that, Seok stamped back out of the tent once more, leaving the Lee family in surprised silence, broken only by the sound of clinking metal as Seojoon desperately swept gold bars back into the box.
[“Well, hell.”] Cyrus muttered. [“I still think he’s a jerk, though.”]
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