Sever One, and Two Grow Back - 1
Ak I-yeon's sudden charge was a bigger threat to us than the bandits themselves.
I have to admit, Ak I-yeon is one tough martial artist. Trained by the Hwagyeong master Ak Wang, doted on by her grandfather-in-law—a Chojeoljeong expert—and an elite who reached first-rate at a young age. If she hadn't suffered qi deviation, she'd probably be teetering on the edge of Peak by now—or maybe even stepping into Chojeoljeong.
I wonder if Chojeoljeong is too much of a stretch, but considering the Geum-ui-wi Commandant around our age is already Hwagyeong, it's plausible. Someone like Ak I-yeon could've absolutely reached it.
"Actually, I've already broken through the wall to Peak."
"...Already?"
Proving her brilliant talent, Ak I-yeon had already vaulted over the Peak barrier. Even with the aid of public treasury elixirs, she'd spent years wheezing from the qi deviation aftermath—and yet here she was, beyond the wall. How is that anywhere near normal talent?
Honestly, her martial prowess probably crushes mine. But that's neither here nor there.
Even if Ak I-yeon is a Peak master, we have to avoid her jumping into the fray as much as possible.
"Haaah!"
No wonder Jo Wi-cheo, sensing her approach, let out a shout and started carving through the bandits. To him, her involvement was the ultimate nightmare.
Of course, I don't think these bandit small fry could harm a Peak master. Ten charging at her? A few sword swings, and they'd be done. But the world has "what ifs," and worst-case scenarios.
Who could've imagined I'd run into Koke Temur at Jiayu Pass? Yet Jo Wi-cheo beat those insane odds and lived through that horror.
Going through it twice would be too risky.
If we game-ify it, Jo Wi-cheo's already burned his one continue. If Ak I-yeon got hurt too, his future would be in jeopardy on multiple fronts. Even a Chojeoljeong expert couldn't let the crown prince's escort get injured twice and walk away unscathed.
"Haat!"
That lone warrior's desperate sword dance—unwilling to tolerate a second failure—turned the bandits into corpses in the blink of an eye.
The ones who'd passed out early from blows to the sword flat were the lucky ones. A moment later, and they wouldn't have been prisoners—they'd have been former bandits.
"Ah."
As Jo Wi-cheo swiftly wrapped things up, Ak I-yeon sheathed her sword with a slightly crestfallen look.
"I wanted to uphold justice as a martial artist too, but it seems my skills are still lacking."
She gave an awkward smile, blaming herself.
"Lacking? Nah, Wi-cheo's just that strong."
I soothed her as best I could. This was the moment to reassure and convince her—prevent future outbursts. We needed to drill it in: Jo Wi-cheo handles the muscle among the three of us; we stay back and watch.
Sorry for making it seem like we're just using Jo Wi-cheo? If I asked him, "Fight alone or with us?" he'd say, "Phew, damn it. Obviously alone."
To him, we're not extra firepower—we're deadweight shackles.
"You know how high those realm walls are. A Peak master outshining a Chojeoljeong? Impossible."
"Well... true, but..."
"Plus, Wi-cheo's job is flexing that muscle like he just did. If we step in, his role vanishes."
If we butt in, Jo Wi-cheo becomes redundant. Redundant officials turn into unemployed drifters. Martial artists without an office either join a merit sect or turn parakho vagabond.
I hammered that point, shaking her resolve. If we meddle, a loyal, upright warrior ends up jobless.
"I scout and solve local issues; Wi-cheo steps up for the fights. Perfect division of labor, right? Everyone doing what they're best at."
"Then what's my role?"
"Recorder."
I stroked her head as I said it.
"As we roam the Central Plains, recording what incidents we face, what we do for the realm's people—that's the Jo-ma's duty. Thanks to you, we can proudly proclaim our efforts for the world."
No exaggeration there. Unlike Jo Wi-cheo, suddenly at risk of unemployment, Ak I-yeon genuinely logs our journey. And for field operatives, records are vital.
Prove the hardship for the rewards.
Not useless stuff like promotions or medals—real perks like cash or leave.
Without her, Jo Wi-cheo and I alternated, and if one forgot? That day's report vanished. Horrifying memories, like cramming elementary school diaries on the last day of break.
"B-but... I haven't recorded anything so far?"
Despite my comfort, her eyes began to quiver.
True enough. Ak I-yeon hadn't logged a thing.
"It's fine. Nothing worth writing? Skip it."
We hadn't faced much log-worthy anyway: Goryeo merchants' ginseng campfire, Ppiae's landfall, Yangjin genealogy tampering. No big loss skipping those.
"Just note our actions for the people, insights from traveling the plains. That's plenty."
"My insights..."
Finally, she nodded, convinced. No more reckless charges from her, I hoped.
Something was wrong.
"Kuhahat! Big spenders after all this time!"
The distance from Tianzhou to Onju wasn't far.
"Halt! Who gave you leave to pass this road?!"
A normal person could cover it in days at a brisk pace.
"Kids! Heroes of the green forest have generous donors!"
Too short for this nonsense.
Yet here we were. After barely convincing Ak I-yeon, we'd already clashed with bandits three more times. Four volunteer recruits before even reaching Onju.
Did Zhejiang suffer a famine?
This was serious. Major crop failure turning farmers into bandits? Nah. No famine reports, and Dong-gu Wang wouldn't sit idle.
So, pure spontaneous bandit boom. No special cause.
Horrifying.
I shut my eyes involuntarily. Natural trash multiplies numerically; bandits proliferating like this?
"Wi-cheo."
"Yes, my lord."
"That... never mind."
I'd almost said, "No more captures—just kill future ones." But seeing Ak I-yeon eagerly logging the fight, her eyes sparkling, I couldn't.
To her, bandits deserve extermination but also reform if possible. Killing when capture's feasible might shock her. Plus, Mongol movements were suspicious lately. More bodies for Shanhaiguan, Guyongguan, Jiayu Pass? The merrier.
"Um, my lord."
"What?"
Sighing in compromised reality, the Qingho caravan leader sidled up.
"Bandit encounters are routine, but this frequent? First time."
I clicked my tongue inwardly. Even Qingho traders, pros at Zhejiang routes, found this welcome unusual? Not normal.
Something unknown was spiking bandit numbers.
"Looks like Fujian bandits spilling into Zhejiang."
"Fujian?"
"Yes, my lord."
The leader dropped an unexpected theory: Fujian's trash bin overflowed, leaking into neighboring Zhejiang.
"...Was Fujian always infamous for bandits?"
If true, infuriating bordered on awe-inspiring. Central Plains regions rival small nations in size. Fujian alone could host a kingdom—yet bandit-saturated enough to overflow?
"Well... it's hushed, but everyone knows. Too many mountains; bandits breed faster than officials can purge."
"Huh."
He nodded confidently. You didn't know? Fujian's specialty is mountain trash. Hills host bandit dens, not tigers.
Niche market?
Two kings patrol nearby. Trouble-makers? A bored king smashes them. But bandits? Gu Gangwang sweeps river pirates via Yangtze; Dong-gu Wang hits wokou seafarers. Landlocked hill bandits? Not their turf. Officials handle it, they assume.
Impressive...
Awe again. Water-types would've died out; mountains let them thrive. Type advantage matters.
"Push to Onju first. Fujian and bandits later."
"Yes, my lord. We'll hasten."
He bowed and retreated.
If Tianzhou-Onju was this bad, south of Onju must be worse. Deep talks with local officials ahead.