Chapter 894: 852. Jin Goes Mad
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Go to Kaito, I beg you!” Jin’s voice was choked with emotion, the polished cadence of a courtier replaced by raw desperation. “Counselor Takeshi speaks of cold interest, but he forgets the value of a loyal friend! For generations, Silla has been Yamatai’s eyes and ears on the peninsula.We become the counterweight to Goguryeo’s hunger. Without us, Goguryeo will rule unchecked across the peninsula.”
“Our merchants have filled your harbors. Our knowledge of the mainland has guided your ships and informed your strategies. We have been the shield at your back, ensuring no single power could dominate the lands across the sea and turn their gaze toward your sacred islands. To abandon us now is to lose that forever. A powerful Goguryeo, unchecked by any rival on the peninsula, will not be a friend for long. They will be a threat. Please, my lord. Do not trade a steadfast ally for the empty promises of a wolf in diplomat’s robes!”
Before Lord Kaito could reply, Takeshi sneered, his lip curling in contempt. He did not even look at Jin, addressing his lord directly. “It is easy for him to speak of loyalty and shared interest when it is our blood that would be spilled, our ships that would burn! He asks you to risk the wrath of two kingdom for a king without a kingdom, a people without a land! What does Silla offer now? Nothing but beggars and ghosts. The ‘gifts’ Li Wei offers are tangible. The security of not making an enemy of this ‘Mongolia’ is tangible. Silla’s gratitude is a phantom.”
Jin’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with a fury that momentarily eclipsed his fear. “How dare you—!”
“ENOUGH!”
Lord Kaito’s voice cracked through the tent like thunder. The force of it silenced both men instantly. He fixed his glare on Counselor Takeshi.
“You will remember your place,” Lord Kaito said, his tone icy. “Jin represents a kingdom that has been a friend to Yamatai for longer than you have drawn breath. Their navy, their knowledge, their friendship, these are not ‘phantoms.’ They are the reasons our influence stretches across these waters.” His tone lashed like a whip. “You will not dishonor that bond with your tongue. You will speak of them with respect, or you will not speak at all.”
Takeshi face blanched, bowing low, his pride swallowed like bitter wine. “Forgive me, Lord Kaito. My words were harsh, but my heart… my heart only fears for Yamatai. We find ourselves in a vise. To choose Silla is to choose a war we may not be able to win. I spoke from a place of fear for our people. A crippled Silla serves neither Yamatai’s strength nor Her Majesty’s will.”
Lord Kaito said nothing at first. His jaw was tight as forged steel, his eyes dark with storms, before he then sighed, and turning his attention to Jin, who still knelt on the ground. The fire in Lord Kaito’s eyes softened into something more akin to pity.
“Rise, Jin,” he said quietly. When the envoy obeyed, he met his gaze with something like sorrow. “I understand your pain. I do. The bonds of history are not easily severed. But Takeshi, for all his bluntness, is not entirely wrong. My first duty is not to Silla, but to the Shaman Queen and the safety of our islands. I cannot, I will not, lead Yamatai into a conflict against a foe of such unknown, terrifying strength for a cause that is already lost. To demand the return of Silla’s lands now would be suicide. It would invite retribution not just upon us, but upon the Silla exiles we already shelter. Is that what you want?”
Jin’s face went ashen. His lips parted, but no sound came, only a hoarse breath. The despair in his eyes was a wound, raw and gaping. He thought of his king, of the royal house clinging to hope beyond hope, of the trust they had placed in him and knew he had failed them all.
“What I can offer,” Kaito continued, his voice firming with resolve, “is sanctuary. The protection of Yamatai’s waves will still extend to King Naemul and his court. They will be safe from Goguryeo’s reach. This is the only honorable path that also ensures our survival. This is the course I will recommend to the Shaman Queen.”
The finality in his tone was absolute. Jin’s mission had failed. The hope of restoring Silla was dead. He had not only failed to secure aid, he had likely cemented its opposite, an alliance between Yamatai and the very powers that had destroyed his homeland.
He thought of his king, of the royal house clinging to hope beyond hope, of the trust they had placed in him, and knew he had failed them all.
Lord Kaito watched him for a moment longer, a flicker of genuine regret in his eyes, before turning back to his counselors. The moment of sentiment was over, the pragmatist had returned.
“Prepare the drafts for a new proposal,” he commanded. “We will meet with Li Wei again. We will express our… appreciation for his candor regarding Goguryeo’s powerful allies. We will indicate our desire for peaceful and fruitful relations. And we will be prepared,” he added, a bitter twist to his mouth, “for him to demand a heavy price for my… lack of decorum during our first meeting. The fault is mine. I let anger blind me. And now, we must bleed gold to soothe what my tongue has wounded.”
The counselors bowed and began to move around the tent, the business of realpolitik moving forward. Jin stood alone in the middle of the tent, the conversations swirling around him meaning nothing.
He was a man who had just heard the death knell of his kingdom’s last hope, and the sound was deafening. The negotiation with Li Wei would continue, but for Jin and for Silla, the war was already over. Outside, the sea boomed against the rocks, relentless as fate.
Lord Kaito’s command tent was quiet again, save for the scratch of brushes on parchment as Takeshi and the other counselors bent over the drafts for tomorrow’s meeting. They whispered in clipped tones, weighing every word, every concession. Jin stood apart, a shadow among them, his thoughts far from their ink and paper. His hands hung limp at his sides, but inside his chest, a storm howled.
The words of Lord Kaito replayed endlessly in his mind. “I cannot, I will not lead Yamatai into a conflict… The restoration of Silla is a lost cause.” They clanged like gongs, each strike splintering the last fragments of hope he had carried across the sea. For years, Silla had endured humiliation, exile, and blood, sustained only by the promise that Yamatai, their greatest ally, would not abandon them. Now, that promise lay in ruins.
Something inside him twisted, something black and bitter. It whispered of failure, of disgrace. It whispered that if nothing could save Silla by words, then perhaps blood would speak louder than ink.
The camp beyond the tent walls murmured with the sounds of evenings the shuffle of soldiers, the hiss of extinguished torches, but in Jin’s ears there was only silence.
He stood rooted for a long time, staring at nothing, until his hand closed around the hilt of a sword resting near the racks. The weight of it felt strange and heavy, like the burden in his heart.
As the counselors continued their work, Jin slipped away into the shadows, the steel hidden in his sleeve.
Lord Kaito had left the command tent, seeking the stillness of solitude. His private quarters were lit by soft candlelight, the canvas walls sighing with the sea breeze. He knelt in meditation, breathing deep, trying to cleanse the anger that had nearly doomed tomorrow’s parley. ‘Pride is a blade without a sheath,’ he reminded himself. It cuts the hand that holds it.
He barely heard the first sound, the faint rustle of the tent flap, but when it came again, louder, his eyes snapped open. His hand slid to the sword at his side as he rose in one fluid motion.
“Who enters without permission?” His voice was calm, but the steel in it was unmistakable.
The figure stepped into the glow of the torches, and Kaito’s breath caught. It was Jin. But not the Jin he had known, a man of careful courtesy and soft spoken diplomacy. This Jin’s eyes were hollow, his face drawn tight with something dark and fathomless. And in his hand gleamed a naked blade.
Lord Kaito’s own sword hissed free of its scabbard. His stance shifted, weight centered, every sense alive with warning.
“Jin,” he said evenly. “Why do you come armed into my tent?”
For a moment, Jin said nothing. He simply stared at the weapon in his grip, then ran his fingers along its edge, as if testing the bite of fate itself. Blood welled from a shallow cut, staining his fingertips crimson. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost tender.
“I called for permission to enter,” he murmured. “But you did not hear. I feared the worst that an assassin had come for you while you meditated. So I brought steel. To defend you.”
Lord Kaito’s eyes narrowed. He saw it then, not in Jin’s words, but in the dead calm of his gaze. The truth coiled there like a serpent. This was no act of loyalty. This was despair, sharpened into murder.
“You mean to kill me,” Lord Kaito said softly. “And lay the blame upon Goguryeo. To break tomorrow’s peace. To drag Yamatai into war.”
Jin’s silence was answer enough. His knuckles whitened on the hilt.
“Put the sword down Jin,” Lord Kaito commanded, his tone a blade of its own. “This path leads only to ruin, for you, for Silla, for us all.”
At that, Jin laughed, a short, broken sound. “Ruin?” His eyes burned with a fevered light. “Silla is already ruins. Ash and bone and silence. Yamatai will survive, yes, safe, untouched, while my people vanish like smoke. Why should you live to watch us die? No, Lord Kaito. If the world must burn, let us burn together.”
And then he moved.
Steel flashed. The tent filled with the hiss and ring of blades as Jin struck, swift and vicious. Kaito met the blow with a crash of iron, his arms steady, his stance rooted like an oak in a storm. Sparks spat where their swords kissed.
“You are mad!” Kaito snarled, driving Jin back with a flurry of cuts. “This will damn your people!”
“They are already damned!” Jin roared, his voice raw, the voice of a man with nothing left but fury. He slashed again, wild, desperate. Lord Kaito turned the stroke aside, pivoted, and drove his knee into Jin’s gut. The envoy staggered but did not fall. He came on again, teeth bared, the sword whipping in silver arcs.
______________________________
Name: Lie Fan
Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty
Age: 35 (202 AD)
Level: 16
Next Level: 462,000
Renown: 2325
Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 9)
SP: 1,121,700
ATTRIBUTE POINTS
STR: 966 (+20)
VIT: 623 (+20)
AGI: 623 (+10)
INT: 667
CHR: 98
WIS: 549
WILL: 432
ATR Points: 0
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