Please Grant Me Conscription! - 1
The passionate Fujian tour of one king and two dukes wrapped up successfully. We visited every mountain in Fujian with even a modicum of size, And the bandits surrendered in tears, moved by the king’s visit. Thanks to that, the Cheong-san-dae—made up of recyclable bandits—grew like wildfire. In terms of sheer scale, it probably rivals any major sect. Unlike those big sects that pick and choose their members carefully, we shoved in anyone who seemed redeemable. Management's on the captain, Shin Ji-gang, anyway. If he can't handle it, the unit disbands, end of story. Penalty brigades don't stick around if they flop, so I trust Shin Ji-gang will manage diligently.
"Well then, I'll head back now. If I'm much later, that rascal Ak Hyeon-i will throw a fit."
With the Fujian bandit crisis resolved, Grandfather decided to return as casually as ever.
Even if he'd gone back sooner, there'd still have been hell to pay.
I started to open my mouth at his farewell but clamped it shut. Honestly, the moment Grandfather ditched Ak Wang to come here, the Evil King's rage was inevitable. Hell, even if he'd dropped into Fujian and bolted straight back to Kaepyeong, it wouldn't have stopped the explosion. Still, some baseless faith bubbled up that Grandfather could weather Ak Wang's wrath just fine. If he were the type to cower at the Evil King's temper, none of this would've happened in the first place.
"Ak Wang will surely understand the decision for the greater good."
"Heh heh, if you can't stay in Kaepyeong, come to Gu Gang. I'll be holing up there for a while myself."
Dong-gu Wang's light consolation and Gi Gangwang's joking invitation. Grandfather chuckled and nodded at their differing send-offs.
"Getting old means friends are all you've got. If only Ak Hyeon-i took after you two even a little."
I forced a bitter smile inwardly. To an outsider, Ak Wang might seem like the guy suffering most from his friends. If anything, he'd desperately wish Grandfather resembled Dong-gu Wang or Gi Gangwang.
"Alright, Un-a. See you next in Kaepyeong."
"Yes, Grandfather. I'll pay my respects there."
Anyway, the grandfather who descended like lightning vanished just as swiftly. As expected of a Hwa-gyeong high master—his lightness skill was insane. And that speed accounted for the Ten Thunders moving with him? Mind-blowing.
"Guess we should head out too. We've left the prince's manor empty too long."
"You worked hard on the campaign, Left Vice Inspector."
Finally, the two kings returned to Onju-bu with their princely troops, ending my unwanted stint as a campaigning soldier.
...Time to rest a bit before moving on.
I sighed softly, kneading my stiff neck. With Fuzhou right nearby, best to recuperate there before pressing on. Even if I didn't lift a finger, marching across Fujian at army pace, sharing soldiers' rations and beds—it adds up. Sure, Jo Wi-cheo and I are used to grueling treks, but—
"You must be exhausted, right?"
"Ah, no, young lady. It was a fresh experience—actually fun."
It was a brutal schedule for Ak I-yeon, out in the world for the first time. Even a Peak master draws a line between mental and physical fatigue. Pushing on now would be rotten to her. Better catch our breath in Fuzhou. Plenty of ground left to cover—proper rest and stamina management are key.
Fuzhou is Fujian's central hub. Seizing the moment when traditional port Tianzhou wobbled, it boomed, boasting history and traditions stretching back to antiquity—enough to rule as a kingdom's capital once. Not quite Hangzhou-level, but still a thriving powerhouse.
And prosperous cities mean crowds, crowds mean incidents—that's the rule. But this feels downright peaceful.
A joint parade of three kings and two dukes. Reformed bandits from across Fujian. Launch of a massive penalty brigade of said reformed bandits. With events like that silencing even the rowdiest troublemakers, Fuzhou buzzed with a paradoxically serene vibe. Makes sense. Right after a high-command military op—who'd dare stir trouble? Past-life Mongol, diehard villain, or someone suicide-rushing reincarnation, maybe.
"Hey, young lady."
"Yeah?"
"I heard Fuzhou has South Shaolin... Is this it?"
Ak I-yeon's eyes sparkled oddly, drawing a chuckle from me. Martial artist through and through, huh? Not some otherworldly Hangzhou or Suzhou, but her first stop in eventful Fuzhou? South Shaolin.
"Yep. Big temple on the outskirts—that's South Shaolin."
Her face lit up brighter at my confirmation.
That thrilled about it?
The look of a traveler beholding a long-awaited landmark made me smile again.
South Shaolin. As the name says, Shaolin in the south. Why in remote Fujian when the main one's in Zhili? Blame the founding war's fallout—most ugly scars from that era. South Shaolin's bizarre origin traces back there too.
Our exalted founder rose for justice, but early days weren't powerhouse territory. Naturally, Mongols outnumbered us at first. Yet Shaolin—when Mongol forces blanketed Henan (modern Zhili)—joined the founder anyway. True Buddhists choosing righteousness despite instant retaliation.
"Let's drive out those damned western monks!"
Not pure justice, given Tibetans' harassment, but they risked it all.
"You bald scum dare aid rebels? Central Plains monks are worthless!"
Shaolin's revolt as murim's head drove Mongols berserk. Hilarious, them raging after screwing over Central Plains Buddhists first—but rational states don't face rebellions. Their heads were probably pure rebel-fury, no self-reflection.
Mongols torched Hengshan beyond repair, aimed for Song Mountain next.
"The Buddhists' zeal! The people's hope for rightful rule will never die! Burn Song Mountain—our inner Shaolin endures! Slaughter us all—successors will topple your empire!"
Eyes rolled back, Shaolin went full 'Burn it if you dare, you bastards.' They'd preemptively built a backup in southern fringes for just that—South Shaolin's birth.
That badass origin earns South Shaolin respect and awe from Daesong officials and martial artists alike.
Didn't expect it centuries early, though.
Original history: Qing-era anti-Manchu restoration crew. But anti-Mongol instead? Founder Han's impact warps history jaw-droppingly.
"Grab lodgings, then straight to South Shaolin?"
"Yes!"
Her eager reply made the timeline shift feel not half bad. Centuries early? Whatever, if it makes my I-yeon this happy.
Damn Han Jung's back.
"Picked up some fine liquor on the way—care for a drink?"
Utterly clueless about his screw-up—no, wearing a face that says he'd ignore fault anyway.
Wretch. Scum. Ugly coward dumping work on his son and bolting. Fiend dumping on a fellow king.
"What gall to return—"
"Oh, right. Your grandkids were worried sick—whip up some snacks! Got tons to talk about; liquor alone won't cut it!"
Mentioning Yeon-i shut me up. Sneaky, using her as a shield. Better his mouth than waiting on unpredictable letters, though.
Damn it.
I grumbled a sigh, leading Han Jung to the annex. Boozing with him ramps up drinks and eats fast—better in a quiet spot.
"Off to Fujian, yet had time to grab booze, huh."
Couldn't fully swallow the ire, so I prodded his antics. Sneaking off wordless, back relaxed with souvenirs? How leisurely to snag liquor en route.
"Pfft, I was just gonna dip. But Jang Sa-seong-i insisted—couldn't refuse all those gifts."
"Always excuses."
As if he'd take gifts for others' face. Probably scavenged random booze, name-dropping Dong-gu Wang. But with the bandit subjugation together, maybe legit. Couldn't grill further.
"Ah. Handled Zhili's bandits alright?"
"Bandits in Zhili? Where His Majesty's grace shines brightest, Shaolin's home base."
"True enough."
Han Jung nodded, chuckling at my reply. Bandits sprout everywhere eventually, but Zhili suppresses 'em hard. Emperor resides there; murim head and founding sect Shaolin's turf. Even fearlessness has limits—no banditry in Zhili. Any pop up get squashed quick.
Me flaunting force was to nip sprouts dreaming of bandit life, not yank weeds already grown. No weeds? Nothing to yank.
"Fujian had plenty, but all cleared—don't worry! Made something fun too—no bandit news for a while!"
"...Something fun?"
Ominous. "Fun" from him screams abnormal.
"Rounded up all the Jiayu Pass-bound rejects into a unit! They'll guard Fujian's mountains from now on!"
My head throbbed. Penalty brigade shell or not, that's old Guard-Murim-inviolate era crap—words nearly escaped.