Please Grant Me Military Service! - 2
Not all martial artists are like this, but a fair number of them live high on their own supply. They can wield power far beyond ordinary folk thanks to their cultivation, and at higher realms, a mere gesture or sword dance can reshape the landscape. It's no wonder they see themselves as a cut above the masses—and in truth, they pretty much are.
That's why, unless their sect is rooted in Buddhism or Taoism like those religious orders, martial artists rarely show much zeal for faith. They believe they can steer their own destinies with their own strength.
'Quite a crowd.'
Yet among the pilgrims thronging South Shaolin Temple, I spotted plenty of martial artists. The temple isn't just any old monastery. It's long been hailed as a pillar of the murim, and its scars from the resistance against the Mongols make it sacred ground. They built it knowing Mount Song might fall, so to us Central Plains fighters, it's less a place to worship Buddha and more a shrine to the blazing spirits of warriors.
The old murim stayed silent during the founding wars, so they lack the face to set foot here. But for those born after, it's practically holy land.
'Familiar uniforms, too.'
As we toured the grounds, I also caught sight of disciples from merit sects—especially from Huashan in Hunan, Wudang in Hubei, and Botamen in Zhejiang. Southern Central Plains sects kept popping up. Guess proximity makes it a natural pilgrimage.
"Left Vice Inspector, sir?"
I hadn't expected to run into old connections amid the pilgrims.
"It is the Left Vice Inspector. Myeong So of Wudangpa greets you."
"Myeong So?"
I tilted my head at first, but the memory clicked quick enough. A Wudang martial artist I'd met sweeping water bandits from Dongting Lake. A diligent sort who'd cooperated with the officials to keep Hubei and Hunan secure.
"Long time no see. Doing well?"
"Yes, sir. Thanks to you, Left Vice Inspector, I've lived without shame as a martial artist."
His grandiose greeting tugged a smile from me. This was the guy who'd trekked from Wudang all the way to Dongting Lake to smash bandits. He would've chased the warrior's path with fire in his belly even without me. Hearing him credit me like that just sounded like flattery.
"Inspector Escort, sir, it's been too long. That sword dance you showed during the bandit purge gave this monk profound insight. I've been hoping for a chance to thank you properly."
"If you gained insight from my sword dance, you could've found it in leaves scattering on the wind. Your enlightenment came from your own efforts, not my grace."
"Your words stir my heart anew. Truly, my thanks."
Myeong So cupped his hands formally toward Jo Wi-cheo. He really did seem to have gained no small revelation from the man—just look at him, gone from second-rate vibes at Dongting Lake to the entry of first-rate now.
"But Left Vice Inspector, sir... who's the lady with you?"
"My fiancée, Ak I-yeon. She's also a Recorder Escort in the Dochalwon."
"Ah, I see. I thought a celestial fairy had descended from the heavens, but it's your fiancée."
Pure ritual flattery, the kind anyone could spot—but no one minds compliments to their betrothed.
"You've got an eye for beauty. Wudang's future shines bright."
"Haha, you're too kind."
I chuckled, and Myeong So burst out laughing, waving it off. Poor Ak I-yeon, suddenly cast as a heavenly nymph, just blushed and smiled awkwardly.
"More than that, I didn't expect to see you here. Here for the pilgrimage?"
"Well, I'd heard Fujian was crawling with bandits. I came to lend a hand in the purge, but... I'm no master, so by the time I arrived, it was all over. Figured since I was already in Fujian, I'd swing by South Shaolin."
I nearly cracked a wry smile. Even Wudang in Hubei had caught wind of the bandit mess. Shows how bad things got.
"Honestly, I'm disappointed. If I'd been a bit faster, I could've witnessed the kings themselves crushing the bandits."
"Your feet may lag, but your devotion to the realm burns hotter and fiercer than any. Trekking solo from Hubei to Fujian? On behalf of the court, I thank you."
"Too kind, sir."
He seemed genuinely pleased by the praise—his bashful expression brightened.
"...Ah, I've been so thrilled to see you that I've held you two up. My apologies."
"No need to apologize. I'm the one delighted to meet a young warrior striving for the realm and its people."
"Exactly. Hubei to Fujian isn't a short jaunt, and you came alone to fight bandits. That resolve holds its own against any suppression army."
"Feels like Lord Yuanshi himself is smiling on me. Such undeserved praise in a row."
Our one-two punch drew a soft laugh from Myeong So. Then he glanced around sharply and lowered his voice.
"Sir. Truth be told, I nearly passed by without approaching, fearing I'd impose... but I have urgent words for you, so I took the liberty."
His grave tone had me matching his seriousness. Yeah, it was odd for a mere Wudang disciple to seek me out first. Unless it was major business, folks rarely approached me directly—not with my rank and position. They feared tripping over their words.
"I'm listening. Speak freely."
"The clans and sects of Fujian are stirring unusually."
"What?"
My brows furrowed on instinct. After a massive campaign against the bandits—with the court even showing mercy to those who surrendered?
'Have they lost their minds?'
Anger and disgust flared up. Sounded like they had a death wish. Maybe I should've swept the murim clean while I was at it—
"They're showing keen interest in this new Clear Mountain Brigade and making a huge fuss to contact the authorities somehow."
I reined it in quick. Not the worst-case murim unrest, then. Guess I'd jumped to gloom thanks to all the grief those murim bastards had given me over the years.
Everyone in the Central Plains knows—even a three-year-old—that the court doesn't coddle the murim. Bar a handful of merit sects, we check and smash them hard. That goes for forces silent during the founding wars and those born after.
New outfits get a pass on old sins—no instant crackdown—but that doesn't mean respect or favors.
Now, bandits—worse off than regular murim, piling fresh karma on old—surrender to the court. And we form a punitive brigade from them to handle local security.
'No wonder their eyes are bulging.'
Call it punitive, but it mirrors how the old murim kept order. For Fujian's murim, long crushed underfoot and peeking at our skirts, it's a chance to grab a spoon in the pot.
Just what I wanted.
When I first formed the Cheongsan-dae from bandits, I figured Fujian murim would perk up with "us too?" hopes. I'd banked on them declaring unconditional surrender and cooperation via this security subcontractor gig.
And their moves were faster, bolder than expected. Already reaching out to officials—loud enough for an outsider like Myeong So to hear.
'Not bad at all.'
Murim sects can only play second fiddle before the court anyway. Them desperate-flailing to prove it? Means more we can squeeze legally: assets, manpower. And we can skimp on handouts to them.
Made me grin just thinking about it.
'Let 'em stew.'
So the court just ignores their frantic courtship. Let them panic more. Spit out more. They're the needy ones, not us.
"Darling! They say this pagoda holds Monk Cheongseung's relics!"
Musing on how low Fujian's lot would bow, Ak I-yeon's voice yanked me back.
"So this is the one. Seeing the legend up close is something else."
Cheongseung. Martial brother to current Shaolin Abbot Hyun-seung, and a hero who fell in the Daesong founding wars. Burying his relics here, symbol of resistance, fits perfectly. Great hook to move the pilgrims, too.
Me? Not big on pagodas or relics. Just reflexive hype since she likes it.
'Guy like Cheongseung probably reincarnated into a fine family.'
Maybe my own rebirth makes me blasé about the dead's traces. Afterlife, reincarnation—real things. Who cares about some bone shards?
'If you're still in the queue, hope it's a good house.'
Still, last remains of a era-shaper. Proper respect due—I bowed slightly to the pagoda. Long life without illness if reborn; better cradle if waiting.
- Shiiik?
I was about to clasp hands in prayer when Samshik poked its head from my sleeve. It glanced around, then all three heads cocked in unison.
"What's up? Looking for something?"
- Shiiik...
- Sieeek?
- Shiuuuk.
At my words, Samshik quietly retreated into my sleeve.
What was that? Was even Samshik a secret Buddhist, coming out to pray?