Please Grant Us Conscription! - 3
Taming the Fujian murim went off without a hitch. In fact, it wasn't even worth calling it "taming" or anything grandiose. All I had to do was sit back, breathe, and enjoy the sights in Fuzhou, and the murim factions tamed themselves.
They knew we were aware of their fidgeting, yet we refused to meet them. That simple act alone demonstrated the government's overwhelming superiority. What could a bunch of ragtag parakho vagabonds do if the officials wouldn't grant them an audience?
"They need to show more sincerity before we'll even consider meeting them." And this wasn't just my personal opinion—it was the unanimous view of Fujian's bureaucrats. The local officials had already drawn a firm line with Fujian murim and shifted to a watchful stance. They hadn't consulted me, and no directives had come from the Prefectural Governor, but they'd taken independent action.
For Daesong officials, suppressing murim was as routine as breathing, practically instinctual.
"What a missed opportunity." I took a sip of Hwangju liquor and gathered my thoughts.
If Fujian murim had bowed their heads while the bandit crisis was still ongoing, begging for mercy and asking us to spare them, they might have gotten decent treatment. Before the kings and dukes stepped in, the situation in Fujian had been truly dire. With bandits causing chaos everywhere, murim stepping up to help would have been a godsend for officials eager to crush them—saving face and securing real gains in one stroke.
The old days of murim being untouchable by the government were gone, of course, but the pressure on them would have eased considerably. Hell, we might have even seen joint government-murim operations.
"But they blew that chance." The bandits got wiped out before murim could make a move—not by local forces, but by the kings and the Inspectorate. Thanks to that, the resources and manpower Fujian officials had mustered for bandit suppression remained intact, and those cards flipped overnight into tools for pressuring murim.
What choice did they have? If Fujian murim wanted to survive, they'd have to bow even lower, more desperately.
"Young master, try this too."
"Ah, sure."
As I pondered what Fujian murim might cough up for the bureaucrats, Ak I-yeon's words pulled me back. I picked up my chopsticks. It was a whole steamed fish—name unknown, but the plump flesh looked delicious. That's probably how the officials saw Fujian murim right now.
"Fat and juicy. Plenty to eat." It felt oddly satisfying. When plump prey waddles right up to you, it's only right to strip it down to the bones. If these parakho nobodies could become the government's flesh and blood, there'd be no greater honor.
Three days later, the Prefectural Governor sent a polite invitation.
"Greetings to the Prefectural Governor, Your Excellency."
"Oh! Come in, Left Vice Inspector General!"
His face shone so brightly it made the phrase "radiant as the sun" feel inevitable. Even a stranger oblivious to Fujian's recent events would blurt out, "You must have some good news!"
"You look well, Your Excellency. It seems some great fortune has befallen you—I'm happy for you myself."
I made a point of mentioning his beaming expression. After all, inquiring about good tidings is polite, even if you already know.
He probably wanted to share his excitement with someone. "Haha, fortune indeed! Fujian's worries vanished in the blink of an eye."
In response to my words, he nodded even more brightly.
"What a relief. It must be Your Excellency's virtue, upholding His Majesty's will, that has blessed all of Fujian."
I smiled back in agreement. Fujian's worries—on the surface, the bandits, but we both knew it meant Fujian murim now. We just weren't saying, "It's hilarious watching those dogshit murim bastards grovel." Face had to be preserved.
"Looks like a banquet's coming soon." I got it. Local officials like the Prefectural Governor had real-time reasons piling up to hate murim. While central elders loathed them for past sins, locals despised them for the present.
If we could subcontract policing to murim like in the old untouchable days, things would be so much easier—peace across the realm. But those damned murim had piled up too much karma, making it impossible.
"I can understand up to that point." Sure, even generously, refusing to subcontract made sense. Maintaining order was the government's duty, and if the capital overreached, locals could fill the gap anyway.
But mobilizing extra manpower just to check murim—that was agony. It was extra burden on top of everything else. Local officials had endured this nightmare since the founding of Daesong.
"I can forgive the lazy, but not the ones who make my workload explode." That's why the central elders' hatred and the locals' loathing differed in flavor. The beatings were the same, but locals hated them for now, not the past.
"You might not know this, Left Vice Inspector General, but Fuzhou has these things called the Miao family—quite the murim force in Fujian! They've been begging for a meeting these past few days!"
His voice brimmed more with glee than hate when mentioning Fujian murim. To him, they were just bastards who'd bloated his workload. But now those bastards were offering everything on a platter, slamming their heads in surrender. Accepting would slash his burdens overnight.
"Sounds delightful. It seems the parakho who ignored propriety and righteousness have finally grasped the government's majesty."
"Exactly! They're finally starting to reform!"
I smirked at his nonstop laughter. Normally, he wouldn't say this outright. Even if murim groveled voluntarily, taking their hand could invite attacks like, "Colluding with murim? Forgotten the humiliations of the founding wars?"
But now Grandfather had formed penal units from surrendered bandits. He'd set the guideline: package it right, and using murim was fine. So the Prefectural Governor could laugh freely.
"Thank you, Grandfather." I'd bow toward Kaepyeong five times a day...
I've felt myself aging rapidly these past few days. Or maybe I really have gotten older. Sighing dozens of times a day can't be good for my lifespan.
"What the hell do I have to give?" I let out yet another sigh—I'd lost count.
No good answers came no matter how I racked my brain. A way to even bow before officials refusing meetings. A way to earn forgiveness from a government that hated and oppressed murim. Solid proof that our Miao family had "reformed" like the bandits.
What could it be? What sincerity would let us survive?
"Miss this window, and there's no future." I bit my lip in anxiety.
Since Daesong's founding, murim had faced fierce suppression—but not prioritized over outright villains like bandits or water pirates. We might draw official ire, but we didn't harm the common folk directly.
But those bandits were crushed. Penal units even formed from the surrendered ones. From now on, Fujian bandits would fall without officials lifting a finger.
With that priority target gone, what would leisurely officials do next?
"Turn on us." Once the top extermination priority vanished, we'd become the next focus. I couldn't endure that future. Already suffocating—more oppression would kill me.
This was our last chance. Whatever the cost, whatever treatment, we needed their mercy now, or Miao family was done.
"Only that way, huh..." Despair hit; I roughly scrubbed my dry face.
There was one surefire method. It meant disgorging everything the family had—I'd hesitated to decide. Not figuratively—literally everything.
But no choice. Spit it all out, and the family survives. We'd get the government's "protection"—not as a suppressed murim sect, but as ordinary landed gentry.
"Better to starve a little than die." Decision made, I grabbed the brush beside me. Any choice beat the family collapsing.
The moment I sent the letter, the formerly indifferent officials dispatched a messenger first.
"His Excellency the Prefectural Governor holds the Miao family head, Miao Yun-taek's resolve in high esteem and wishes to meet you personally."
From Fujian's top official, no less. I sighed inwardly in relief. My last resort worked as expected. I'd even pondered relocating if it failed.
"I am grateful for His Excellency's undue attention."
"Regrettably, he cannot spare even a moment idly. Prepare quickly and come."
"Yes. Understood."
A one-sided notice, blunt imperative, but laced with respect. Anyone hearing it would sense goodwill, so I bowed with a rising smile.
"The others won't get forgiveness so easily." Even Fujian's mightiest, the Miao family, had to offer everything for the Prefectural Governor's mercy. Everything—literally—for this scrap of grace.
Those weaker than us wouldn't get it easily.
"Starting with the same decision as me—that alone will be tough." Who could easily send every family male to conscription and donate all lands? For now, Miao family alone would be the sole murim faction under official protection.