Reformed Bandits: The Cheongsan Brigade
Once upon a time, there were bandits—but those deemed recyclable were formed into a single brigade. Their leader was Shin Ji-gang, former chieftain of the old Yeongpung Stronghold and the very first voluntary surrenderer. Officially, they were no longer bandits; by imperial decree, they had become a penal unit dedicated to the peace of the realm and its people.
Now, they'd live not as scum preying on civilians, but as experts handling bandit lairs. Unlike typical penal brigades, they operated not at the borders but in Fujian—a peculiarity, sure. But "There's precedent, so it's fine." Penal units serving away from the frontiers was nothing new. The irregulars rolling under Gu Gangwang were technically a penal brigade too, strictly speaking. No one would dare oppose a precedent set by a king. Besides, it was Grandfather who proposed stationing the bandits in Fujian.
Even without precedent, who would contradict Grandfather? Even Gu Gangwang—the unrivaled madman among the kings—held his tongue before him.
"Having lived as bandits, they'll be experts in bandit habits and mountain warfare. Rather than sending soldiers everywhere to suppress them, it's easier to toss some funding their way and put them to work."
"A wise observation, truly. Moving troops costs money too—might as well hand a few coins to those and call it profit."
Dong-gu Wang voiced his support for Grandfather's words. At first, the two kings had balked at using bandits for Fujian's security, but as the brigade's shape took form, they seemed to accept it.
Worried about entrusting public order to bandits? Their core was still a penal unit. Whether at Shanhaiguan or Fujian, the job was the same—maintaining order. If they reverted to old habits and caused chaos, just wipe them out then.
Of course, one might think to bolster regular troops with the funding meant for penal units. But factor in recruitment, training, and losses from suppression campaigns, and subsidies were far cheaper. Coming from Dong-gu Wang, no less, it was gospel.
'Feels like founding a new sect.'
Watching the three kings huddle together stirred an odd feeling. Entrusting security not to the regular army but to civilian martial artists. The process differed, but it evoked the old days when sects were untouchable by the state. Local non-regulars handling order? Pure nostalgia from that era.
But the difference? The clear contractor-contractor dynamic between state and civilians, and the nominal label of penal brigade. If someone pointed at the Fujian security brigade and cried, "Isn't that state-immune murim?" you could retort, "Criminals employed by the state, sir?"
'Should I criminalize all martial artists...' A mad idea too embarrassing to voice aloud, yet it flashed through my mind. Make every martial artist in the Central Plains a criminal, fold all criminals into penal brigades, and the state's manpower would surge. Deploy anti-murim forces to normal duties, redirect suppressed martial artists to security work.
A beautiful world, in theory. Among countless murim factions, cooperating only with merit sects or co-opting new ones as state-friendly? Tedious busywork. That's why I toured the Central Plains, after all.
... 'Huh?'
I turned to Grandfather without thinking. My wandering aimed to solve local crises and cultivate state-friendly murim. The former wrapped up via bandit hunts; for the latter... well, 'Look, we've got one now.' The Fujian brigade formed naturally.
The merciless state forgave even bandits' karma, repurposing them as penal units. Anti-government outlaws remade into state allies. And gifting them subsidies and autonomy to boot.
Fujian's murim, witnessing this, couldn't help but wonder: 'What about us?' Maybe pledge loyalty and snag some scraps too.
'No way.' I swallowed hard. What I'd dismissed as Grandfather's eccentricity had handed me massive aid. Did Grandfather... do this for his grandson...?
'Ah.'
Our eyes met; he sensed my gaze. His lips curved in a knowing smile, nearly bringing tears to my eyes. When he heads back to Kaepyeong, I'd bow toward the capital thrice daily.
Evidently, bandits had networks we didn't know about.
"We surrender! We'll heed the stern laws—mercy, please!"
"We've never harmed civilians! Shamefully, we've robbed them, but never killed!"
"In this Fujian, the big strongholds wrought all manner of evil! Tiny outfits like us never even got the chance!"
Once Yeongpung—the first voluntary stronghold—surrendered and the brigade formed around them, strongholds lined up to follow. But small or mid-tier didn't mean light sins. Some had merely survived under big ones' thumbs; others actively aided their atrocities. Those knew surrender meant death and chose resistance.
"Thought we were done with fires. Always making trouble."
"You light them—why gripe?"
Of course, the resistors' pleas rang hollow. Strongholds burned with their mountains; miraculously spared survivors got neatly trussed. A few with lighter crimes might join the brigade for a new life. Here's hoping they find the light.
"At least the big ones are cleared—wrapped up quick."
Grandfather stroked his beard, murmuring approval. He was right. Fujian's "self-suppressed" twelve major strongholds? We'd have needed grander ops. Mid-tiers might've resisted en masse under pressure. Outcome fixed once the kings stepped in, but the process would've dragged.
"Feels like youth, fighting alongside you all again. Hard work."
"Too kind. Nostalgic for us too—delighted."
"Heh, should've called the other kings."
Dong-gu Wang bowed formally to Grandfather's praise; Gu Gangwang spouted oddities. Giwang, Gu Gangwang—kings whose titles start with 'G' seem universally unhinged.
"Even thought of bringing Ak Hyeon-i. Skipped since he'd rage—but came secretly."
"Secretly?"
"Was supposed to patrol Zhili with him. Slipped away while he sought the Emperor's leave."
Grandfather's booming laugh silenced Gu Gangwang. Even he zipped it before Grandfather's madness.
So that's how...
"Call Mun-chung and Yu-do over. You aides to the kings have toiled too."
"No, Your Highness! Serving you is our greatest honor!"
"Indeed! Recalls Taizu's days taming the continent—we thank you!"
The two dukes—summoned amid this—stood like battalion commanders before a legion general, utterly abject. No rookie labels, to spare their duke-inspector dignity.
"My grandson's suffered trailing us old fogeys. Interrupted his fiancée time—must be miffed."
"Not at all. I'm a Daesong official too—duty calls."
"Ease up. Push harder than now, you'll precede this old man to the grave."
I could only grin awkwardly. Proved why Grandfather raced from Kaepyeong to Fujian: Jiayu Pass crisis.
"My grandson and his fiancée are sharp as tacks—no need for lectures. Anything for Ak Hyeon-i? I'll relay."
"I'm fine. Sending my own letter—no need, Your Highness."
"Truth? Just fear he'll flip if I return empty-handed. Say anything—save this old bones."
Ak I-yeon smiled softly at Grandfather's half-joking plea. Considering Ak Wang's temper, probably dead serious.
Never imagined Fujian had this many bandits. And this was just the surrenders—light offenders only—topping hundreds. Maybe thousands.
'No wonder the state quakes at "bandits."'
I'd been oblivious as one, but facing this horde from the hunter's side? A hollow laugh escaped. Purge after purge, and still these numbers. Small wonder officials foamed at the mouth.
"Filth everywhere."
Scanning amid soldiers, a high official appeared—obvious from his bearing.
"But you lot? Kings deemed you redeemable trash. The least stinking sort."
Outrageous barbs, yet no one bristled. We were bandits fit for instant execution, spared only by that redeemable verdict. His words weren't insults—more like blessings on our dramatic rebirth.
"You'll operate as the Cheongsan Brigade. Clear mountains of filth—engrave it on your hearts."
"We shall!"
Instinctive reply; he smirked approval.
"Fitting for a brigade chief—the cleanest trash."
"An honor!"
That day, Yeongpung Chieftain Shin Ji-gang died. Only Cheongsan Brigade Chief Shin Ji-gang remained—dedicated to Daesong's prosperity and peace.