The Eldest Daughter of the Sichuan Tang Clan Protects Her Family

Chapter 25: A Private Audience

 
Jegal In-hwi smiled. It seemed someone was using this incident to bolster the Tang Clan's standing, driving a wedge between the Anhui branch and headquarters, tarnishing not only Namgung Jin’s reputation but also that of Namgung An, a leading candidate for the next Alliance Leader. Tang Jiha was also a frequently mentioned contender.

He didn’t know who was behind this, but he wasn’t about to become a pawn in their petty schemes.
He had initially intended to hold the Namgung Clan accountable according to the Martial Alliance’s regulations. He changed his mind.
“You must be quite busy, preparing for the funeral amidst all this,” he said, his voice gentle, almost sympathetic.

“It’s no trouble, Lord.”
“Then may we retrieve the bodies? Many Alliance members are eager to confirm the Blood Cult’s involvement. A direct investigation by headquarters would lessen the burden on the Namgung Clan.”
“Certainly, Lord.” He had anticipated this. He only hoped the coroner had successfully erased any traces of the poisonous insects and prepared a new report. “Though our investigation hasn't yielded much, I can bring in the interrogator and show you our records.” He forced a smile, his mind racing, searching for a way to buy more time.

Jegal In-hwi smiled enigmatically, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He considered for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. I was curious about your findings. This is most opportune.”

* * *
 
The Anhui branch was effectively an extension of the Namgung Clan, their public face, staffed by their most capable individuals. The fact that their young heir, a source of immense pride within the clan, had been appointed as its leader was a testament to its importance.
Those who distinguished themselves within the Anhui branch were often recommended for positions at Martial Alliance headquarters. Namgung Cheong-hae had been one of them, a member of the headquarters' Four Guardians Unit.

His death had been a devastating blow to the Namgung Clan.
“My husband’s letters stopped arriving months ago. Surely… surely not? Ah!”
“Mother!” A boy, barely a young man, rushed to support his collapsing mother.

“W-what happened?! How could Father…?” Cheong-hae’s family demanded answers, but those who had brought his body could only offer silent apologies, their heads bowed in shame.
“Why aren’t you answering?! Tell us what happened!” Cheong-hae’s son cried out.
Namgung Munseon bit his lip, his heart heavy with grief. Cheong-hae had been a favorite nephew. He already felt guilty for delaying his return, for keeping his body in the cold storage. To see his young children’s faces contorted in anguish, their world shattered, was unbearable.

He closed his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. “The Young Master will explain everything.”
“Heueueu, why would the Young Master…?” He swallowed the rest of his sentence, the words ‘make such a reckless decision?’ catching in his throat. In this moment, his grief overshadowed his loyalty.
Those standing behind him shared his sentiments. What words of comfort could they offer? Silence was the only appropriate response.

He opened his eyes, his gaze falling upon Cheong-hae’s cold, lifeless body. He saw the image of a vibrant young warrior, full of promise, the future of the Namgung Clan.
He looked towards the inner courtyard, towards the main hall. The Young Master, summoned by the Clan Head, was likely in a private audience with him now. He wasn’t the one suffering most. It was his other nephew, the one who would bear the responsibility for this tragedy.

* * *
 
Namgung Jin returned to the main estate, prepared for any punishment. He wasn’t surprised to be summoned by the Clan Head immediately upon his arrival. However, the location of their meeting was unexpected.
The Clan Head’s personal quarters, located deep within the inner courtyard. Despite the numerous halls and pavilions within the estate, he had been summoned to a small, secluded study. Or rather, a room too humble to be called a study.

Unlike the formal study used for official business, this room was located on the second floor of a small pavilion overlooking a pond. It was a simple, unassuming space, more like a servant's quarters than a study, furnished with only a small bed, a few books, and a single sword resting on the windowsill.
Creak.
The wooden stairs groaned under his weight, a sound that echoed the weight of his own burdens.

He had been inside the Clan Head’s quarters countless times, yet he had never set foot in this pavilion.
And his father had dismissed all attendants. He had to open the door himself, like a condemned prisoner approaching the executioner’s block.
Click.

The room was so small that the moment he opened the door, he saw his father’s back, his gaze fixed on the pond outside the window.
Namgung Jin’s gaze, which had been fixed on some distant point, refocused, taking in the simple furnishings: the sword on the windowsill, the sunlight streaming across the floor, a small bed large enough for a single person, a handful of books. It was a peaceful, almost austere space, hardly suitable for receiving guests, let alone conducting a formal reprimand.
The unexpected setting unnerved him. He waited tensely, unsure of his father’s intentions.

“Jin-ah.”
His father addressed him by name, not by title.
When he didn’t respond, his father turned, a faint smile playing on his lips as he saw his son’s rigid posture. His gaze swept across the sparsely furnished room. “I wasn’t sure whether to offer you tea or wine, so I prepared nothing. I hope you understand.”

His father’s lighthearted tone was unfamiliar. He rarely spoke more than a few words to him during their private audiences.
His unusual behavior continued.
Slide.

He moved the sword from the windowsill and sat down, patting the empty space beside him. “As you can see, there’s only one place to sit. Come, sit beside me.”
“I wouldn’t dare sit beside the Clan Head.”
His father’s voice hardened. “Then you expect me to look up at you?”

Without hesitation, Namgung Jin knelt on the floor.
His father chuckled, amused by his son’s immediate compliance. He didn't insist further, simply leaning back against the window frame.
Still chuckling softly, he said, “I sat in that very spot when I had a private audience with the Grand Patriarch. You truly are my son.”

Just as Namgung Jin thought the conversation was about to begin, his father fell silent.
The gentle sounds of the pond filled the room.
Finally, Namgung An spoke, his voice calm and soft. “When I was the heir apparent, I made a grave mistake. The Grand Patriarch summoned me here.” He gestured towards the floor with his chin, a faint smile on his lips. “He placed a cup of tea and a cup of wine before me and asked me to choose. I thought he was giving me a choice between methods of suicide. I was terrified. I had made a mistake, yes, but it wasn’t a matter of life or death. I felt a surge of resentment, of defiance.”

He chuckled, a hint of bitterness in his laughter, as he recalled the distant memory. “But… that wasn’t his intention.”
Silence descended once more. The splashing sounds of carp fighting in the pond echoed through the room.
Breaking the peaceful silence, Namgung An asked, “Jin-ah, do you know where you went wrong?”

His quiet question weighed heavily on Namgung Jin’s heart. He remained silent. He could list his mistakes in detail, but that wasn’t what his father wanted to hear.
Namgung An, waiting for his son's response, pulled a letter from his robes. Namgung Jin’s brow furrowed slightly.
His father unfolded the paper, revealing a long, meticulously written letter, the characters perfectly spaced, each stroke precise and elegant, like a miniature painting.

Calligraphy fit for an emperor. It looked like a page torn from the Chunhua ge tie, a collection of calligraphy masterpieces commissioned by Emperor Taizong of the Song Dynasty.
It was an impressive feat for a sixteen-year-old boy writing to his father.
Namgung Jin tried to focus on his father’s words. Only one person in the Namgung Clan possessed such exquisite calligraphy: his younger half-brother.

“Escorting Cheong-hae wasn’t the Anhui branch’s responsibility. I had sent him to the Dabie Mountains myself.”
The Dabie Mountains were on the route from the Martial Alliance headquarters in Hubei back to the Namgung estate. For someone as skilled as Namgung Cheong-hae, chosen to serve at headquarters, the Dabie Mountains posed no threat.
However, Namgung An had sent him there to give his other son, his bastard son, an opportunity. He had hoped to gain Cheong-hae’s favor, to secure a path for him to headquarters. He had seen potential in the boy, his intelligence and martial arts skills promising. It had been a miscalculation.

His gaze darkened as he looked at the letter. His younger son’s gentle words masked a sharp, calculating mind, a dangerous trait to reveal to the world. He might have believed he was concealing his true nature, but to the Clan Head of the Namgung Clan, a man who had navigated the treacherous currents of court politics for decades, his petty schemes were transparent.
And yet, a part of him was impressed. He had only seen through his son’s facade because of his impatience. Left unchecked, he could have concealed his ambitions indefinitely.
‘He’s a valuable asset.’

However, his willingness to shift blame, to exploit the mistakes of a loyal clan member, was unacceptable. Especially when that clan member was his own son.
Namgung An looked up from the letter, his gaze piercing. “Was this Hyeon’s idea?”