You from the Island - 5
The sky was clear and blue today, perfect for a short outing. I thought of dropping by that rascal Ak Hyeon-i's place nearby, or visiting the Shaolin Temple in Zhili, or even venturing beyond Zhili altogether.
"Stop coming around. Did you leave something here or what?"
"That's awfully stingy. They say when you get old, all that's left is people. Can't I visit a friend?"
After a brief moment of deliberation, I decided to head to Ak Hyeon-i's. The weather was ideal for a casual trip, but just a tad too bothersome for anything far. Anyway, Ak Hyeon-i talks tough, but if I show up suggesting a drink, he'll join me without much fuss. This guy must be getting bored with age, no doubt. When you're old, what remains isn't honor or martial prowess—it's people.
"Gone when you need him, shows up endlessly when you don't."
"Heh, isn't that the fun of life?"
I burst out laughing at Ak Hyeon-i's mock grumbling. If you could meet someone the moment you wanted and avoid them just as easily when you didn't, where's the fun in that? Life needs those unpredictable twists—things not going your way—to spark surprises and breathe vitality into the dull routine.
To Ak Hyeon-i, I'm that unexpected variable, the spark that turns his boring days entertaining. He ought to be grateful. Naturally.
"Always talking big."
Ak Hyeon-i clicked his tongue briefly and turned toward the annex. See? He acts gruff, but he secretly likes visitors. Still as coy as ever for an old codger.
"I was just about to tell you some unusual news. How'd you know to show up?"
"Hm? Unusual news?"
"It's about your grandson again."
I flinched for a second, but Ak Hyeon-i's calm expression put me at ease. Good thing it wasn't some disaster like at Jiayu Pass. If Un had been hurt, this guy couldn't look so serene.
Unusual news, huh.
Once I was sure it wasn't bad, my lips curled up on their own. My grandson. I'd cleared out all the nuisances in Fujian so he could relax, and how long had it been since then? Already tangled in something peculiar.
Privately, I pitied him for not getting a break. Officially, it warmed my heart to see him diligently fulfilling his duties as a bureaucrat. Un was still young, and with his wife by his side. No one would fault him for taking it easy.
Yet here he was, jumping straight into problems and sorting them out.
A child who'll pacify the world not with the sword, but the brush.
Guiding Un toward the scholar's path had been the best decision. I'd half-expected the "unusual news" to involve hidden bandits or pirates popping up, or maybe Un finally snagging a sixth spirit beast.
"Haomun?"
"Precisely, Haomun—Lower Joy Sect."
But what came from Ak Hyeon-i's mouth utterly defied my guesses. Haomun? Different from the one I knew, yet hearing that name again was unexpected.
...Or was it different?
"A sect where even the dregs find joy? Sounds like the Haomun I know."
Ak Hyeon-i couldn't deny it, so he quietly sipped his cup in silence.
Haomun of the downtrodden masses, Haomun where the bottom finds joy. No matter how I turned it over, it echoed the old Haomun that once existed.
"Made by folks from Taiwan."
I watched Ak Hyeon-i's silence and took a swig myself. Laughter bubbled up. A new sect founded under government backing? Named after the Haomun crushed decades ago? Led not by a Central Plains man, but someone from Taiwan? It was all too amusing—one marvel piled on three.
A Taiwanese founding a Haomun with official support. The odds were minuscule, yet my grandson had crossed paths with that rarity.
"Not that I'm biased because he's my grandson, but no one his age stirs up as much as he does."
I spoke with pride, and Ak Hyeon-i glanced at me but didn't contradict.
Taiwanese arrivals being mixed-blood of Central Plains folk and Taiwan natives? Just intriguing newcomers—easy to brush off without action.
But Un didn't ignore them. He won them over. Turned a rootless super peak master into an ally of the state and built a sect that future arrivals from Taiwan would inevitably join.
Quick on the uptake.
A seasoned bureaucrat with field experience might seek ways to harness incoming migrants. Un, not even thirty, showed that savvy.
And bold methods.
Even kings hesitate to go beyond sheltering sects to outright creating new ones. Yet Un, the prince's grandson, made it happen. Knowing full well he'd bear the blame if things went south, he strode the righteous path undeterred.
Well done, my grandson.
How delightful. Who could've foreseen our Un growing into such a wise, resolute man? Had he chosen the warrior's path, he'd have reached super peak long ago, heaven's blessing or not. Aye, surely.
The fourth son of the Prime Minister, now Geum-ui-wi Commandant, hit Hwagyeong around Un's age. Super peak? Easily within reach.
"That pleased, huh?"
Ak Hyeon-i jabbed as I kept grinning.
"Of course!"
I declared it proudly to the guy. As a grandfather, how could I not rejoice? Any man would.
"Fair enough. His Majesty was thrilled too. A perfect card to seize Taiwan smoothly."
I nodded without hesitation at Ak Hyeon-i's words. A sect leader of Taiwan native blood, and the sect itself. No better way to project influence over Taiwan.
"Might end up crossing to Taiwan with the Haomun leader."
I froze mid-nod. True enough. Great Song, to honor officials' merits and ensure smooth rewards, tends to let the initiator see a project through to the end.
If Un recruited the new Haomun leader and founded the new Haomun, overseeing Taiwan could be seen as an extension.
Off gallivanting everywhere.
Not content with roaming the Central Plains—he might head to Taiwan next. My grandson. When he returns to Kaepyeong after wrapping up, let's have him make grand offerings at Shaolin or Wudang. Seems like fate's got him in an iron grip.
Haomun grew like wildfire, day by day. A sect welcoming anyone from the bottom ranks—no need to be a martial artist. What other sect in the Central Plains had such potential for expansion? Wider talent pool than even the beggar-filled Open Pavilion.
Of course, open doors meant vicious scum could slip in, but former officials who'd thrown in with Haomun handled the screening.
Haomun was made by the suffering underclass to lift each other up—not for riffraff to run wild.
"At this rate, it'll be Fujian's top sect in no time. Congratulations in advance."
"Th-thank you, my lord. We've only just begun."
Jang Gang gave an abashed smile and shook his head at my well-wishes.
"Still can't fully trust those who've joined from Guho and Haomun. Won't be a true sect till we've earned our disciples' faith."
His earnest words had me nodding instinctively. A sect earns its name by giving faith to its members. How stirring. The old murim fell for betraying the common folk's trust—Jang Gang's "faith" was exactly what murim needed most.
If he'd grasped it without guidance, no worries for him or Haomun. Those who choose their path may walk slowly, but they won't stray.
"Sect leader, even an open sect needs martial force as a murim power. Got arts to teach your disciples?"
"Ah, martial arts? Planning to pass on mine and my comrades'."
Jang Gang answered calmly. As expected, but he's really sharing his own...
Well, what else could he teach?
Arts from a super peak master.
I stroked my chin thoughtfully. Third-rate arts suffice to peak with effort and talent, but super peak demands profound techniques, elixirs, and heaven's grace.
How he'd reached it was a mystery, but some great fortune in Taiwan, no doubt. Anyway, arts worthy of super peak aren't ordinary. Sharing them freely is risky.
No art to hand out lightly just because they're disciples.
"Sect leader."
"Yes, my lord."
"The imperial archives hold the world's martial arts. Some from sects and families, but also ancient arts we've restored and exclusives we've secured."
I set down my teacup.
"Countless as grains of sand on the shore. I'll petition His Majesty for arts suited to you all."
A modest gift for Haomun.
Better this way.
Opening the imperial archives isn't trivial, but better than a super peak's arts spreading unchecked among the dregs. Luckily, the archives hold everything from supreme arts to plain third-rate ones.
Arts for all Haomun disciples? Easy to find.
"M-my lord! That's too generous...!"
"Haomun and the state are allies now. Plus, it needs His Majesty's approval, so no guarantees—don't get hopes up."
I soothed Jang Gang, whose eyes were trembling. This wasn't dipping into my pocket—it was prying from the emperor's. He'd recognize Haomun's value, though. A passionate plea might snag some third- or second-rate arts.
If we're backing them, do it right.
Should Haomun fail or cause scandal, whispers of "The Left Vice Inspector's pets flopped" would spread. Can't have that. For my face's sake, no.
You must survive.
For Great Song's realm and for me, absolutely.