Kneel Before Treason
First off, kneel for treason. In the real world, the term "insurrection" fits better than "treason," but to sum it up simply: no matter the country or era, attempting to overthrow a nation's system from within for any number of petty reasons is the gravest crime imaginable, punished with utmost severity due to its massive ripple effects on society.
The word itself sounds grandiose enough to make listeners tremble in their boots, but the key perspective on treason is that all the ensuing chaos—driven by political ideologies and desires—is both perpetrator and victim. Even if you're just lamenting a ruler's idiocy and offering earnest advice for improvement, there are always those leeches under the ruler who profit from that very stupidity. So, even well-intentioned counsel born of loyalty can be twisted into "disobeying imperial orders" and branded as treason at the drop of a hat. Treason is thus a profoundly heavy yet perilously light charge, impossible to pin down neatly.
In short, it's like the mind of a candy vendor—whimsical and unpredictable. Anyway, back to reality.
The squad leader, who had been exuding an overwhelming pressure on the gathered crowd while intimidating Jin-hyeong of the Mudang Sect, was no mere warrior. Though a military man, he was a bureaucrat who drew his salary from the imperial court and had clawed his way through the cutthroat politics of the capital.
He didn't know the full details of the unfolding incident, but piecing together the rumors he'd heard with Emperor His Majesty's well-known disdain for martial artists, he could clearly envision a scenario where someone who loathed martial folk as much as the imperial family did was dancing on the edge of a blade, backed by a power wielder commanding the entire Geumuiwi. Swallowing a bitter smile that threatened to escape, he kept his face stern.
'For an incident this big... it has to be... the Prince... no, the Pr... Princess... Urgh... No sweeping this under the rug.'
Judging swiftly that simultaneous visits like this were hitting all the major sects and factions representing the martial world, the squad leader realized the perpetrator's maternal grandfather was none other than the Geumuiwi Grand General—the imperial family's elder statesman whom even the Emperor couldn't handle lightly, known as the Sword of the Throne. With this dawning on him, a bitter resolve welled up from deep within, sharpening his aura as he straightened his posture.
"Why don't you spill everything you know in detail? Oh, and for reference, 'seditious texts' naturally refer to those strictly banned by imperial edict: military treatises, army martial arts manuals, irreverent ideologies, and the like."
At this, the low-ranking martial artists gritting their teeth against the pressure, along with the civilians who'd come to visit the Mudang Sect only to get caught in this mess, gaped in shock, their faces paling in dismay.
Those in the know might smirk and brush it off as mere bluster over trivialities, but to the general public, military treatises and army arts evoked the founding Emperor's ironclad edict—proclaimed atop a mountain of corpses from rebellions, wars, and insurrections—to eradicate all such threats root and stem. Their stunned expressions were thus inevitable, a chill realization hitting them: one wrong move, and they could be bound here, their entire families executed for treason.
With the Geumuiwi's purpose at the Mudang Sect now crystal clear, the slopes of Mudang Mountain fell eerily silent save for the incessant chirp of insects. As all eyes turned to Jin-hyeong, the Mudang Taoist, he shook his head firmly, convinced he'd misheard, and vehemently denied the accusation.
"Th-that's absurd! We of the Mudang Sect are devout Taoists who study the orthodox Taoist lineages and cultivate arts derived from them. We're worlds away from the shady, underhanded things you're implying!"
As a martial artist from the prestigious orthodox Mudang Sect, Jin-hyeong spoke with evident pride in his sect's history and roots—his words carrying a persuasive force that anyone would nod along to. Had the opponents not been the imperial Geumuiwi, he might have invoked ritual annihilation combat and demanded a deathmatch in his fury.
Unsure of the basis for this intimidation, Jin-hyeong saw it, in the moment, as akin to insulting his master's parents by calling them treasonous scum in a culture that revered teachers as kin. Thus, he glared at the squad leader with all the defiance he could muster.
But the squad leader had already pieced together the gist of the incident and established his course of action, brushing off Jin-hyeong's attitude with ease.
"That differs quite a bit from what I've heard... Mind if we enter for a formal investigation?"
"Ngh...! Of course! I don't know what nonsense you've heard to slap us with this false charge, but the Mudang Sect has nothing to hide under heaven—the sect leader would say the same."
"Oh... Such confidence makes our job far easier. A fortunate turn, indeed."
"Hmph. Come in, then. Normally, we'd follow guest protocols, but showing any resentment now could backfire, and rumors of leaving the Geumuiwi waiting in the dirt would only tarnish our reputation."
Unlike at first, the situation hadn't solidified into confirmed treason, but the squad leader smirked inwardly at their subtly dissatisfied tone—rookies gonna rookie—and shook his head. He ordered two subordinates to seal the Mudang Sect's main gate, then followed Jin-hyeong inside.
In this tense atmosphere of unease and condescension, Jin-hyeong and the Geumuiwi contingent proceeded until they spotted the sect leader and elders rushing out, startled by the clamor of their armor and auras. Slowing their pace, they finally locked eyes.
"...So this is the caliber required to lead a martial sect? Impressive."
"Nothing to boast about, but not all faction leaders have reached my level."
Facing the Mudang Sect Leader, the Geumuiwi squad leader frowned at the aura surpassing his own, while grasping why the imperial court had mobilized the Geumuiwi so massively despite the Princess's mere whim. He snorted derisively.
'Martial folk untouchable? Bullshit has its limits. What nation allows its citizens to surpass army generals in cultivation...? No wonder His Majesty feels that way. He's probably using this chance to purge all the thorns in his side...'
Such a large-scale operation implied solid evidence and rationale. Sensing the Emperor's iron will to cull these potentially rebellious armed groups, the squad leader nodded inwardly—until a sudden doubt made him tilt his head.
'The Princess wouldn't propose this herself, so it must originate outside the court... from martial world interests. Meaning... the instigator fabricated evidence to move the throne and engineered a scenario to sway the Princess...?'
Whoever it was—a group or individual—the plotter was surely a martial artist, yet they'd manipulated the imperial family. Chilled by the cunning malice reminiscent of the sly bureaucrats he'd encountered at court, the squad leader steadied his rising goosebumps with a deep breath.
"We can chat over tea when there's time... For now, your evident seniority and cultivation mark you as the Mudang Sect Leader. Time to officially state why we've come."
[Ancient, ornate scroll contents—formal decree on seditious texts]
With a sly grin at the Taoists' bewildered glances between him and the scroll drawn from the golden casket his adjutant held, the squad leader bellowed:
These were the moments that thrilled him most in his Geumuiwi duties.