20 Chapter 19 - A Bad Reputation

The ram butts against the fence, unable neither to retreat, nor to advance.

--- Book of Changes

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Spade opened his eyes to his own bedroom ceiling for the third day in a row, letting out a sigh of content. They'd managed to crash at home for one day before things had picked up again, and Spade had to bid his bed goodbye for another week. Joyce and Spade had all but moved into the Salehrad house, with nothing but a backpack and Joyce's new phone.

Not that he minded. He actually enjoyed the feeling of being together with people working towards the same goal, it made him remember a summer from forty-years ago peppered with Lin Bo' sharp retorts and violent wake-up calls. But honestly, this wasn't the Shaman Council or Hengshan's giant building, it was a normal-sized house and the energy bouncing off the walls was a little too much.

There was a telltale sound of a body slamming into his door.

"Spade!" Joyce called. Spade groaned.

"What?" he snapped. He rolled out of bed and opened the door to a tablet screen. He gently pushed it aside to squint blearily at Joyce.

Why had he been saddled with a morning person? Not just a morning person but a child with accursed amounts of energy that seemed to be sucked from the people around her like a vampire that could operate remotely.

"What is that?" he asked groggily. Joyce bounced on her toes like she was wearing ridiculous designer heels with rubber balls for heels.

"Kajio sent us a link and told us to look it over," she said. "He said he already notified Mohan as well, but I can't read the article."

Spade sighed and took the tablet. Joyce handed him a cup of coffee with too much milk in it, but he graciously drank it without comment. He nearly spat out a mouthful of coffee onto the tablet.

'War Criminal and Teen Killer Team Up: The Group From Hell? Shocking Report on Order of the Flying Dragons,' the title said in blatant clickbait style. It had over 20 million views.

Not a lot compared to Joyce's debut, which was hurtling towards a billion views like a hornet with a nemesis, but enough to be a problem. Spade hastily put down the coffee cup and scrolled through the article.

"Is it bad?" Joyce asked. Spade nodded, reading with increasing alarm.

'Grandmaster Mohan was one of the staunchest supporters of the Qing Dynasty until the very last, and is most famous for the atrocities he committed at Guangyang Pass, where he killed upwards of 20,000 people in a firestorm. Survivors of the incident have published multiple accounts of the hellish scene, including the award-winning Retreat from Guanyang.

After his atrocious act, Mohan disappeared from the public eye for almost sixty years, resurfacing as the Grandmaster of the Order of the Flying Dragons and the teacher of the spirit-sent. We must wonder, what could a man who would in any other country be cursed as a war-criminal, possibly teach to a young spirit-sent?'

Shit. Spade had expected something like this, but he was expectant, not prepared. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What is it? Is it bad?" Joyce asked insistently. Spade didn't reply, choosing to gulp half the cup of coffee in one gulp. He returned to the article, feeling an impending sense of doom.

'A spirit-sent who may not be so innocent herself, despite her young age and guileless appearance. We urge readers to recall the strange incidents over the last two months, which have caused a great number of casualties, fatalities, and property damage. Most memorably, a Plague Spirit, which a shaman source has confirmed to not exist west of Ningxia, caused dozens of fatalities in Canton.

As the spirit-sent is meant to be a gateway to the Spirit Realm, are these incidents not caused by her at worst and her responsibility at best? While Joyce Lee is currently hailed by many as a hero who saved Canton from a Kraken, many shaman scholars agree that the Kraken has never in history left European waters. If not for the spirit-sent, why would the Kraken have appeared?

Is the spirit-sent a savior, or really a monster in the making? In light of the deaths that Ms. Lee is most likely responsible for, our opinion tilts towards the latter.'

"This fucking piece of shit-stained stupid-ass son of a bitch," Spade spat out. He flung the tablet onto the couch, where it harmlessly bounced onto a pillow. Joyce hovered nervously, looking between Spade and the tablet.

"What did it say?" Joyce urged. Spade sighed, downing the rest of the coffee. The silence dragged out for a little longer until Joyce winced and rubbed at the base of her skull.

"You good? Did you sleep in a bad position and hurt your neck?" Spade asked.

"I'm fine. What's the article about?" Joyce asked. Spade hesitated a little. Joyce didn't care about the opinions of anyone who she didn't care about, but something like this was unprecedented.

No matter how much warlords had cursed her out in the past, no one had accused Joyce of being a murderer. It made his blood boil that people would jump on any chance to be a bitch.

"The article accuses Mohan of being a war criminal and you of wreaking havoc upon the city. Through your existence, apparently," Spade said drily. Joyce poked at his back until he continued.

"They're trying to blame you for the casualties related to the Plague Spirit," Spade said. Joyce's poking stilled, and she circled back around the couch to flop on next to him.

"Welp. Haters gonna hate, right? Didn't Confucius say anything about that? Taylor Swift sure did," Joyce said. Spade shook his head.

"Confucius probably said something on the topic but definitely whatever you just said, but anyway, it's not something you should take seriously. What did Kajio say?" Spade held his hand out for the tablet. Joyce passed it back.

"He said he's working on it already," Joyce said. "Honestly, I kind of expected this much in bringing on Mohan. He's crucial to us, he makes us untouchable to the other factions and has a lot of legitimacy, but in terms of public relations it's not that great."

"We'll manage somehow. But I'm willing to bet that Jia Xu will offer 'help' to us soon enough," Spade let out an angry scoff. Joyce sighed.

"Damn, I really feel like this is some kind of harem intrigue drama we're in," Joyce complained.

"Kajio wants us to go to his house for a meeting," Spade said, "In an hour. We'd better eat and get going." Joyce gave him a thumbs up. At least Kajio had arranged for lighter robes, so the girl actually looked presentable at least half the time now, a big improvement from only 10% of the time before.

Joyce rubbed at the base of her skull again, looking uncomfortable. Spade frowned.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"A little," Joyce replied, "Maybe it's the working. Maybe I'm allergic to labor."

"You're probably tired," Spade said, "You need to drink more hot water. And some red ginseng, we can buy some later."

"Whoa, that's alright, you're really sounding like my mom now," Joyce said nervously. "I don't need ginseng."

"Your mother is a very wise woman, and she would agree with me," Spade replied. "Ginseng it is."

///////

Selva waved as Mohan stepped under the eaves of Kajio's roof. The shaman nodded back and tilted his umbrella to the side in a graceful emotion, seemingly unbothered by the sky dumping rain on them like it had a bone to pick.

"Good morning, Grandmaster," Selva said cheerfully.

"Good morning, Selva," Mohan replied calmly. "Have Spade and Joyce arrived yet?"

"Not yet, they said they'll be here in ten more minutes," Selva said. Mohan nodded slowly.

"It only just occurred to me after I read the article that I have not actually taught her anything," Mohan said. Selva nodded slowly.

"We've been overworked for the good part of a month, you wouldn't have had time unless you taught her through the night, and then Joyce wouldn't be able to deal with that," Selva comforted. Mohan laughed lightly.

The familiar sound of Joyce and Spade's bickering rounded the corner and they both turned to look at the two with exasperation. Mostly Joyce, though Spade's constant fathering was almost on par. Joyce waved at them, nearly smacking Spade in the face. She was still eating a piece of bread.

"Morning," Joyce called, Spade chiming in a beat late. Mohan greeted them back, Selva giving Joyce a high-five as she ducked out from the umbrella.

"Do you only eat bread in the mornings? You're still growing, and as a shaman you need extra energy, you should really eat some protein and whole grains in the morning," Mohan said, joining the nagging band. As of now, only Selva was immune to the need to nag at Joyce.

"I ate an egg scramble before I came, I just eat too slow," Joyce said sheepishly.

"She doesn't eat too slow, she eats too much. This is her fourth piece of bread," Spade snapped from behind her.

"She's growing, it's normal to eat a lot," Mohan said, looking at Joyce with a vaguely fond look like a guy who had finally gotten a squirrel to eat a Snickers bar.

"Joyce hasn't grown in two months," Spade deadpanned, receiving a prompt elbow to the ribs from Joyce.

"I will grow, okay? I'm accumulating energy points," Joyce cried in outrage. Kajio swung the door open.

"Can you all please get in and stop blocking my doorway?" Kajio demanded. He stepped aside as they all meekly filed in. "Thank you."

Kajio glanced around the room sternly, looking at everyone's faces until the mood plummeted to a more serious tone. Joyce tried to inconspicuously finish her bread, chewing whenever Kajio didn't look at her. Kajio's gaze swiveled towards her, catching her with a freshly taken bite in her mouth.

"Joyce," Kajio began, "Actually, finish your breakfast first. Breakfast is important." He swiveled to Mohan. "Grandmaster," Kajio continued. Mohan lightly dipped his head. "I'm sure you have read the article already."

"I have," Mohan said calmly. "All of it is true. However, I did not commit any war crimes. I committed what would have been an act of mass murder in peacetime, but it did not violate any preexisting wartime rules or codes of conduct." The room fell silent briefly.

"Actually, the Qing committed a war crime by using you. You weren't eighteen yet, right? That makes you a child soldier," Joyce offered. She rubbed at the back of her head with her knuckles, shooting a reassuring grin at the concerned looks she was getting.

Kajio sighed, rubbing at his temples. "We're setting up a PR department right now, but as everyone knows, things can only go so fast. Joyce made a good point though, I'm sure we can make use of it somehow."

Kajio stopped. "No, actually, if we do that, the Northern Expedition will have a time limit set on it. You'll definitely have to wait two years, but we might miss good chances in the meantime."

"I agree, the spirit-sent often runs into tangles of fate that can be changed depending on the spirit-sent's actions, this was so in all of human history. If you set a hard starting time for when you can start, it would make things difficult," Mohan said seriously.

Joyce nodded slowly. Selva nodded too, mentally agreeing. After all, it had taken Joyce one day to stir up all of Canton, one week to debut, and now they were already on track. Who was to say that some random spirit didn't just show up and force them into the next plotline?

"The article ties Mohan's past to Joyce, so pointing out that Mohan was also a teenager might make things worse," Spade said tightly, "I'm betting that Hengshan and Shaman Council are rubbing their grubby little hands in glee right now."

"Guys, why don't we just figure out some counterarguments and then hold a press conference? We can do it via live-stream if we want, take questions via the chat box," Joyce suggested.

Kajio nodded. "Easy enough. It's the problem of the counterarguments." The room fell silent again.

Selva shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't as though he was all that comfortable with having someone with that much blood on their hands with them either, and even if he didn't show it in his interactions with Mohan, it bothered him, just as it probably bothered Kajio. But compared to that, there were the 17 million population of Canton, and the rest of the population across the country.

The balance between morality and practicality was shaky enough, and as much as everyone wanted to be like some male lead in a drama who'd smack the shit out of any morally questionable decisions, they didn't have plot armor and fifteen banjos playing in the background.

"Selva, what did the mansion owner say about his father again?" Spade asked. Selva blinked up in surprise, trying to remember the phrasing.

"Uh...let me check my notes...hold on," Selva scrolled through his phone vigorously, past hundreds of notes on the applicants to find the response that had brought them all here.

"Here it is, he said: 'I'm sorry for your family's loss, but things were very difficult forty years ago. You wouldn't have even been born then, so you wouldn't really understand. My father acted in self-defense for the sake of his family, for my sake, and I can't criticize that. But I'm really very sorry for the pain it has caused to you and yours', why?"

Spade pointed at Selva's phone, looking at Mohan. "That's our counterargument," Spade said decisively. "Just amend the words to fit."

"Not a strong argument," Kajio pointed out.

"I don't think we can come up with a strong argument," Mohan said, "The best we can do is appeal to people's memories of the violence and fear in those days, and ongoing today in other parts of the country. It's not a bad angle to go at it from."

"Then what about Joyce?" Selva asked. The room fell silent again, Joyce rubbing at the base of her skull with a perturbed expression. Mohan let out a sigh.

"We can only cite theology sources," Mohan said grimly, "I've got some things prepared, but whether or not people buy it is different. After all, fear can lead to respect, but it can also scare people out of their wits, and that harbor fiasco was definitely on that level."

It was a weaker counterargument than the previous one. Everyone knew that ancient sources had been very vague, to the point where it made people want to go back in time and kick the writers' faces in. Whether or not it would be enough for the media was difficult to say.

///////

Jia Xu scrolled through the article with an amused grin.

"I'm surprised Hengshan's actually backing us up on this," Jia Xu said in amusement, "Taeyun was there on the day of, wasn't he? He must have been scared out of his wits to even consider teaming with us."

Li Peng stared back, utterly unperturbed. "Are you also taking the chance to get back at them for taking Selva?" he asked impassively. Jia Xu shook her head wryly.

"That boy wasn't mine to begin with, and since when have I been that petty? Didn't I forgive them even for the wards?" Jia Xu replied.

"I thought the wards might've been included as a package deal," Li Peng said, as unflappable as before.

"How did I raise a child like you?" Jia Xu grumbled. She put down the tablet. "And how are the other plans going?"

Li Peng nodded slowly, an unpleasant smile on his face. "Probably not surprising to you, but we've coincided with Hengshan on this as well. The Salehrad house is difficult to move on, but the spirit-sent's place is completely unwarded. She's talented, but she's not skilled. So long as someone very skilled doesn't go over, we're fine."

"Mohan," Jia Xu pointed out.

"He hasn't been over there since he appeared, apparently he won't go over even if invited," Li Peng said with a shrug. "Anyway, we have multiple plans in motion, it won't be a big deal even if he notices something."

Jia Xu nodded. "As long as you've calculated the risks already. Any effects yet?"

"Nothing obvious yet, but we're expecting it to start taking effect soon," Li Peng said. Jia Xu nodded in satisfaction.

"Good, good. One last thing. Feng Xia doesn't know about this, right?" Jia Xu said, imbuing a warning into her tone. Li Peng nodded.

"Don't worry, just because we were raised together doesn't mean I'd tell her everything. I know what things to keep from her," Li Peng said. He gave her a long look, the way he often did back in the day, when Jia Xu gave Feng Xia different explanations than she gave him.

Jia Xu nodded in satisfaction.

Ruin their reputation so the death of their leader wouldn't become a martyr. It was a tactic the Qing had often used, and Jia Xu understood why. It was simple, effective, and obvious enough if you looked for it, but so long as it fit the fears and worries of society, it worked without a hitch and with little to no consequences.

Other than Selva, who Jia Xu had indeed hoped to keep, many of the recent recruits had hastily resigned after receiving acceptances to the Flying Dragons. It was a good move, she had to admit.

Joyce was taking advantage of an opening and driving a wedge in until she could make a comfortable spot for herself, but whether it would go according to the spirit-sent's wishes or Jia Xu's was a matter of debate.

What did bother her were the internal fissures building up within the Council. Jia Xu sighed as Li Peng handed her a list of names. After some deliberation, she took out her red pen and began crossing out names. Another thing Li Peng wouldn't be telling Feng Xia, Jia Xu supposed. She handed the list back.

Li Peng looked it over and nodded curtly. "I'll get on it, Chairman." He gave her a smile and a bow before heading out the door, leaving Jia Xu alone with her thoughts.