Nanjing Uprising
Rumors of unrest were spreading like wildfire through Jiangsu Province, carried by merchants from the tavern district of Suzhou.
"Can you believe it? They're dragging every woman from tax-delinquent households into the government offices!"
"Especially the daughters of village heads who crossed swords with the Sub-Prefect."
What started as hushed whispers among acquaintances was gradually bubbling to the surface.
"Your situation is dire, so I'll specially consider a tax relief plan."
Special relief.
The condition: Send their wives to a secluded room in the yamen "temporarily." The pretext was document verification, household registration checks, and tax ledger reviews.
But what exactly happened inside remained a mystery to everyone except those involved.
Of course, those hearing the tales reacted similarly. No way they'd go that far, right?
The stories sounded grave, yet no witnesses or victims ever came forward.
It would have remained the kind of thing people swallowed their anger over and let slide. If things had been normal.
But the spark that ignited the powder keg was an incident at a granary in a corner of Suzhou city.
Children's cries wouldn't stop. At first, adults shouted curses, demanding to know what foul play was afoot. Until they heard the details.
"What? They tried to levy taxes on kids?"
"Even trying to squeeze it out of them for their dead parents?"
It was villainy that would make the heavens weep. And a woman who stood to protect those children had been hauled off to the yamen.
"This... this can't be right, no matter how you look at it."
It stirred even the upright elders of society.
Even though they had been ousted from the central court and vowed to live out their days quietly without stipend or meddling in politics, they could no longer look away. The culprits had crossed the line of basic human decency.
We have already withdrawn from the court, forgoing our stipends and abstaining from state affairs.
Yet if we remain silent while even basic benevolence crumbles, that would be a sin we must repent for even in death as servants of the empire.
Would His Majesty command taxes paid with children's lives? Would he order city walls repaired with the corpses of lions?
This is not collecting taxes—it is reaping human lives.
The people do not desire chaos. They have been driven to it.
All this is the crime of those who feign loyalty above and devour the people below.
"Lord Go and Advisor Yang have spoken out too."
The formed public opinion began instilling confidence in the aggrieved.
Those who had suffered in silence, fearing reprisal—
The quiet had dragged on so long that everyone clearly knew what was wrong.
"What? He died last time? You should have reported it to the yamen ages ago! No, no extensions."
Oblivious to the brewing storm, the bailiffs went about their rounds as usual that day.
Thwack, thud.
"What the hell? Who’s the rude bastard?"
But the situation was far from the usual deference, where people scrambled to clear paths for them. A stone skipped across the ground and landed at a bailiff's feet.
"Who threw that? You trying to start something big?"
As the bailiff raged, his attendants stepped forward to grab people.
But sensing something off in the crowd's unyielding defiance despite the show of force, the attendants hesitated.
Thwack!
"Argh!"
The next stone came from a vagrant rolling in the market dirt. Rumors swirled that he'd lost his whole family overnight and been cast out—now forgotten by all.
For a split second, a red glint flashed in one eye, but no one there caught it.
No one tried to stop him from hurling the stone. Why would they?
It became the catalyst. One by one, people scooped stones from the dirt and began pelting them.
"You calling yourselves human?"
"Die!"
"Gah, you mad bastards!"
Instinctively thrusting spears forward to shield themselves, they still didn't grasp it.
How their reflexive defense would balloon the incident out of control.
"Huh?"
Squelch.
A soldier blocking his eyes with one arm felt a heavy thud in the other.
Like stabbing something—or being stabbed.
Raising his head at the alien sensation, he saw a sturdy man impaled through the heart on his spear, head bowed.
"Wh-what."
"The bailiff's attendant stabbed a man!"
"N-no! I didn't stab him. The guy threw himself onto it!"
The soldier couldn't hide his panic. It was the truth. But to any onlooker, it looked like his doing.
"We can't take this anymore!"
"Strip those bastards and hang 'em!"
"Eek!"
Realizing they were in deep shit, the bailiff and attendants dropped their tax ledgers and bolted.
They barricaded themselves in a city storehouse.
But pursuers kicked at the door. Built sturdy for its purpose, it couldn't withstand the mob's relentless force.
The warehouse door splintered slowly. Pillars and hinges shook—
Boom, crash! With a shattering sound, the doors flew open.
Eyes turned two ways: Cowering officials trembling in a corner, and...
A man seemingly leading the crowd rummaged through a grain pile in one corner, sniffed it, and said,
"This is spoiled. Old stuff."
"Gwak, you serious?"
Yeop echoed loudly from behind, projecting for all to hear.
"What? The rice can't be spoiled. How have we been managing... Argh!"
"We got nothing to eat."
"Squeezing kids and orphans dry just to let it rot?"
That ignited it. The incident spiraled uncontrollably.
"M-mercy."
"I-I'll return it. Here's what I took earlier."
Dragged into the yard, the bailiff and attendants faced the furious mob closing in.
Thud, thwack!
"Aaaagh!"
"Violence!"
"Riot! A riot's broken out!"
Starting in Suzhou's western district, more and more grabbed weapons. Torches stretched in a line toward Nanjing.
Nanjing Uprising.
In Hongsim Yeonhwa, it was a mere named event. Here, it was a massive cornerstone, shaking power structures as giant factions mobilized.
*
"We'll have to detour around the crowds!"
What the hell is this now? Trying to reach the destination faster only meant wasting time on blocked roads packed with people.
The atmosphere was ominous. Everyone clutched potentially dangerous items—not a good sign.
A riot?
Come to think of it, Uncle Gwak had hinted at it. With the mood sour, better to leave Suzhou quick if possible.
Didn't expect it to blow up like this.
Thinking back, was there an event like this in the original? Not that I remembered.
"We'll loop around!"
"Thanks."
The veteran coachman skillfully drifted through alleys, finding gaps and speeding off. We escaped the city fast, hitting the outskirts in no time.
The outskirts were hell. Local troops clashing with rioters. But the surprise was,
"...What? Why are they fighting so well?"
Not the government troops. Their job was training daily to fight and defend—expected.
The unexpected was the commoners' side. Rioters—usually farmers or merchants far from combat?
But that vanguard rampaging upfront? Not just momentum. Real skill gap.
The energy they wielded felt off. Not typical Neigong from the martial world, nor the outer power from military academies.
Hidden masters from the populace?
Yeah, the world's vast. Even now, unseen folk like mountain hermits, Beggars' Sect wanderers, or frontier martial artists.
Probably like that healer grandpa from Zhejiang. Yup.
Stay humble. Never know when you'll bump into one and get schooled for mouthing off.
Excluding them, the trailing mob looked pathetically frail.
Gripping makeshift weapons, their clumsy moves and lack of coordination got them crushed instantly.
If the vanguard fell, the rest would crumble.
...Is this right, though?
Starting trouble at the Sub-Prefect's mansion amid a riot? We'd get lumped in.
...Headache.
Hide my identity somehow?
Oh.
Uncle Gwak's "gift"—not silver, but clearance junk. A weird mask.
Wear this, hide my face? ...Hmm.
"Coachman, whaddya think?"
"That's Young Master Yujin with the weird mask."
"Damn it."
Of course. Figures.
A swordmaster could mask their power somewhat. Me? Waigong muscle hunk with a cannon—too distinctive.
"...Still, gotta try."
Draping it over my face, the coachman reported soon after.
"Young master, Nanjing ahead."
Suzhou and Nanjing linked by outer walls—full speed got you there quick.
"But the entrance is chaos. Carriage can't get in."
"This is fine. Thanks."
Slinging Hon Yeon on my back. First time fully fueled—hefty and reassuring.
Strapping the auxiliary belt, I grabbed the Hyunja Chongtong and leaped off with a thud.
"Let's go—we're in a hurry!"