You Who Came from the Island - 1
The tearful talent show put on by the Myo Family threw Fujian's murim world into chaos. With the frontrunner charging so far ahead, the latecomers felt an urgent need to catch up fast. And if the Myo Family had already spilled everything, what the hell were we supposed to cough up next? Caught between these two emotions, Fujian's murim factions took their own paths—and in the end, the ones laughing were the Fujian officials who accepted their unconditional surrenders.
Now there's nothing left for me to worry about.
After hearing that two more sects had declared unconditional surrender today, I started preparing to leave Fujian. I'd already put enough pressure on the murim factions. There was no reason or need for me to stick around any longer. Reviewing and deciding whether to accept their surrender terms was the job of the local officials.
Am I moving too leisurely these days?
As I packed my few belongings, a faint sense of unease crept in. Up until I passed out at Jiayu Pass, I'd been racing through each region at breakneck speed. But afterward, my pace had slowed somehow. Back then, I'd minimized rest and pushed like a madman. Now, I was taking it easy in every city, actually resting.
It was probably because I knew touring southern Zhongyuan would wrap up my trip, and I'd soon be heading back to Kaepyeong. My body and mind had relaxed at the thought. Or maybe it was because Ak I-yeon, out in the world for the first time, made me instinctively avoid forced marches.
This pace feels just right.
Still, I had no intention of going back to my old frenzy just because I'd slowed down. Honestly, that breakneck pace was insane—the current speed wasn't slow at all. That's what I wanted to believe. If my old speed was my average work rate, I'd burn out and die of overwork before fifty. I didn't want to accept that future.
- Ppiae?
Mid-thought, the noise of my packing must've woken Ppiae, who poked its head out from its shell on the table. Come to think of it, maybe heaven sent the turtle Ppiae to my side as a sign to take it slow. A revelation to move steadily and sturdy like a tortoise, even if slower.
"I'll carry you, so keep sleeping."
- Ppiae.
For some reason, Ppiae looked prettier than usual. Heaven's gift to remind me to take it easy—my Ppiae. I might die before you, but let's stick together for life, until one of us goes.
I set Tianzhou as my next destination. A city that prospered as an international trade port from the late Tang Dynasty through the Yuan era. Its boom peaked under the Yuan, once called the world's largest port. These days, it'd lost its prestige and position to Hangzhou, and the founding war had shaken its prosperity—but it remained Zhongyuan's premier southern port city.
Even a rich man holds out for three generations; imagine a city that flourished for centuries. It'd only wobbled, not fallen.
What was in Tianzhou again...
Anyway, as I headed to Tianzhou, I racked my brain. During the founding war, Tianzhou got swept up badly—no major murim faction like Fujian's Myo Family. There'd been a notable clan, but the fierce flames of war burned even that down. So Tianzhou was practically a no-man's-land in Fujian murim.
Not that all murim folk vanished from a bustling port of people and money, but without a central figurehead, it lacked direction.
Tianzhou should be a smooth pass.
The more I thought, the happier I got. No matter how I turned it over, nothing in Tianzhou would bother me. If there was, it'd be rushing to Fujian by now to grovel to the Prefectural Governor. A perfect situation.
I could just sightsee the sea and head straight to Guangdong.
Who knew bandits could be helpful.
Bad thought for an official, but the bandit outbreak in Fujian had made my job easier. Their chaos drew the Prince and Governor-General, sparking a massive purge that birthed the Cheongsan-dae penal brigade. That brigade's launch rattled Fujian murim.
Thanks to the bandits' little spark, most of my Fujian tasks vanished. Thanks, trash. Next time I meet bandits, I'll capture 'em less painfully. If capture's impossible, I'll kill painlessly—no worries.
That's righteousness.
Give as good as you get. What warmer, more beautiful bond than that? I hoped the bandits appreciated this official's mercy.
- Shiiik.
- Sieak...
- Shiuuuk!
Of course, right now, understanding Samshik's feelings took priority over bandits appreciating mine.
Did it eat something bad behind my back? No, I watched everything it ate daily.
The others are fine.
Maybe spirit beasts had hyperactive phases? But Kki-ing-i, Kki-ong-i, Buong-i, and Ppiae showed no signs. Only Samshik acted this weird.
"Enough playing—back in you go—"
- Shiiiiiik!
When I reached for it, Samshik dodged my hand frantically, fleeing to my nape. It hurt my feelings. It wasn't biting or snapping wildly, but avoiding my hand was a first. It'd been so docile in Fujian...
What the hell...
"Are you mad at me or something?"
"Don't overthink it, my lord. If it were truly upset, it'd have left your body by now—it's still clinging, right? Probably just wants to sightsee outside."
"You think?"
I tried to accept Ak I-yeon's words. Samshik wasn't the outgoing type to enjoy the outdoors. I knew better than anyone, carrying it 24/7. But people change over time—maybe spirit beasts did too. As a young hatchling, Samshik's tastes could shift quickly. Had to be.
- Shiik!
- Sieak!
- Shiuuuk!
Before I knew it, Samshik had climbed to my head, hissing loudly. At finger-tip size, it wasn't heavy or scary.
What if a bird snatches it...
Sudden worry hit. A passing raptor might mistake it for food—disaster.
"Samshik. I won't touch you, so come down to my shoulder."
I soothed it from my head to my shoulder. At least there, raptors were less likely to target it—and I could react instantly if they did.
- Shiik.
Thankfully, Samshik got it and slithered obediently to my shoulder. Such a good listener—why the sudden change...
As we entered Tianzhou, Samshik slipped back into my sleeve from my shoulder. Was it really just sightseeing? Had our introverted kid turned extroverted?
Spirit beasts are unpredictable.
Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i's rampage at Hengshanpa, Buong-i's instant affection in Gansu, Ppiae glomming on with spit. Their personalities were all extraordinarily quirky. Samshik's whims seemed tame by comparison.
"My lord."
"Yeah? What?"
"Something ominous from the docks."
"Huh?"
I'd been staring at my sleeve where Samshik hid, but Jo Wi-cheo's words snapped my head around. For a chojeoljeong master like him to call it ominous? At least peak realm end-stage, high chance chojeoljeong.
A chojeoljeong in Tianzhou?
Unexpected variable. Chojeoljeong were high command in the military, sect/clan heads in murim. Even Myo Family head, Fujian's top clan, was just peak. Yet in unassuming Tianzhou, a chojeoljeong? Even peak end-stage matching Myo head?
Damn.
Uneasy. I'd just been thrilled about a quiet Tianzhou, but ominous signs asserted themselves right away.
"...Multiple?"
"Energies clustered, but only one worth worrying about."
Relief at just one (suspected) chojeoljeong.
Where'd it come from?
I glared toward the docks, frowning. Not local Fujian talent. Third- or second-rate were common, but first-rate and up were tracked by officials. Especially peak end or chojeoljeong.
The Prefectural Governor hadn't mentioned any wandering chojeoljeong in Fujian. So, an untracked outsider ronin.
Ronin still exist these days.
Even in untouchable murim days, ronin were extreme. In this era of murim suppression, after the poison brothers in Sichuan... first since.
...
No good.
Instinctual chill. Ronin in this age weren't normal. If poison-brothers level insane, willing to comb officials and merit sects—this Tianzhou would erupt too.
Tianzhou, come lightly, harbored disaster's seed.
"Wi-cheo."
"Yes, my lord."
"Let's check faces first."
Jo Wi-cheo nodded like he'd waited—he'd had the same worries.