Southern Frontier - 2
During the journey from Tianzhou to Guangdong, Samshik refused to leave my shoulder.
- Shiiik, shiiik.
- Sieeek!
- Shiuuuk!
Curled up on my left shoulder, Samshik kept twisting its three heads this way and that, hissing nonstop. It was unusual behavior, but not exactly surprising. It had done the same thing on the way from Fujian to Tianzhou. Back then, too, it had planted itself on my shoulder and showed no sign of coming down.
What the hell is going on with it?
It wasn't shocking, but I couldn't shake the puzzlement. If Buong had been nestling in my arms, honking away, I could've understood. The little guy was so curious and energetic that an excited reaction to new places wouldn't have been odd. But Samshik had been quiet and shy from the moment we met in Sichuan right up until now. What on earth had changed in Fujian to turn it into such an outgoing little thing?
And yet it'll hide again the second we enter a city.
What a complicated situation. Had Samshik hit puberty or something? But aside from this bizarre behavior, it was as well-mannered as could be.
"Is it because it's the south and your sleeve gets too hot?"
- Shiiiiiik.
I gently stroked one of Samshik's heads with my index finger, and though it kept hissing, it didn't shy away from my touch. The other two heads, however, continued swiveling up, down, left, and right. Like they were standing guard on all sides.
There's nothing around here, though.
When Samshik first acted strange, I'd scanned the surroundings, wondering if it sensed something we couldn't. But even I—a first-rate—Ak I-yeon—a peak— and Jo Wi-cheo—a super peak—had felt nothing out of place. The other spirit beasts, Kki-ing-i, Kki-ong-i, Buong, and Ppiae, were the same.
That's what was driving me nuts. There was a result, but no visible cause.
"Wi-cheo."
"Yes, my lord."
"Nothing around here, right?"
"Nothing, sir."
Jo Wi-cheo nodded without hesitation at my double-check. A super peak's senses turning up empty. High probability this was just Samshik's puberty acting up; low probability that something beyond even super peak detection was nearby. But no matter how I thought about it, it didn't make sense that Samshik would sense what a super peak couldn't.
What a weird puberty...
I stroked the other two heads, which were still on alert. It'd be easier to just chalk it up to puberty. Yeah, don't overthink it with your head—go with your heart. Spirit beasts weren't ordinary animals anyway. Puberty hitting suddenly, or in some quirky way, wasn't strange. We'd already seen a turtle that spat acid—what's a snake going through puberty compared to that?
- Ppi iiiik...
Right on cue, Ppiae let out a drawn-out whine from inside my robes. Probably still hungover from all the booze in Tianzhou; it had been sleeping in my arms ever since.
Chaoju-bu in Guangdong. Located at the eastern edge of the province, it was a remote corner of the frontier. Despite its deep history, that history hadn't brought prosperity. Instead, it was a land of tragedy.
"May they be reborn in a world free of war."
Ak I-yeon clasped her hands and bowed before the memorial stele at the heart of Chaoju-bu. It was massive, but pathetically inadequate for the blood spilled across the city. That's why memorials dotted the place—not just in the central square, but everywhere. By my count, there were about ten in Chaoju-bu alone.
Chaoju-bu's history was one of endless suffering, culminating in the massacre of hundreds of thousands just a century ago.
Damn Mongols.
I clasped my hands alongside Ak I-yeon, inwardly clicking my tongue. Aishan's flashy last stand overshadowed it somewhat, but Chaoju-bu had fiercely resisted the Mongols too. One of the the late Song dynasty Three Heroes, Mun Cheon-sang, had been captured alive here, after all. And the Mongols? Pros at smashing entire cities in retaliation.
Chaoju-bu, once home to 600,000 souls, had its population crash to 20,000 under their brutal revenge. They'd dithered over executing the captured Mun Cheon-sang—too valuable to kill outright—but showed no mercy to the common folk.
Of course, that's why scum like them unified the Central Plains only to collapse in under a century. A people who saw civilians as roadside pebbles weren't fit to hold an empire.
- Kki-iing...
- Kki-oong.
As I lifted my head from those dark thoughts, I spotted Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i approaching the stele and licking it with their tongues.
I immediately faced a serious dilemma: Should I stop them, or let it be?
Spirit beasts licking it counts as a blessing, right?
Merchants in Taizhou had lost their minds just to touch a spirit beast once; one had sobbed when Kki-ing-i licked him. In this era, contact with spirit beasts was seen as a profound blessing. So their licking the stele could be interpreted as honoring the dead. But to me, it looked... off.
If I didn't know their wild days on Hengshan, I'd think it was sweet.
I remembered those two rampaging on the mountain, so this felt more like mischief about to happen. Even though they were far from troublemakers now, it made me uneasy.
"With the spirit beasts offering prayers for their souls, any who haven't reincarnated yet will surely be reborn in a good place."
"Yeah. Healthy and long-lived, for sure."
But I was the only one uncomfortable. Best to keep my mouth shut.
Disrupting the warm atmosphere would be disrespectful to the departed—
"Yes. They will surely live long and prosper in a fine place."
A sudden voice made me turn. A monk stood there with a faint smile.
"Ah, my apologies. Your kind hearts moved me to speak unbidden."
The monk gave an awkward chuckle and clasped his hands to us.
"And seeing spirit beasts pay their respects? A first, even for me. It's absurd for a wretch who hasn't reached the Age of Heaven to prattle on, but I doubt I'd witness such a sight even past a hundred."
"It is unusual. Whether it's as effective as it is rare, who knows."
"It surely is. If even our flawed condolences bring solace to the living, imagine what heaven-sent spirit beasts can do."
He called himself flawed, but his presence was anything but ordinary. Not from a Buddhist sect like Shaolin or Botamun—his aura suggested a true, unassuming monk. Yet it carried an uncommon weight, evoking reverence like that before a great sage or master.
Reverence... not quite.
Actually, it lacked the serene warmth of a high monk. Instead, it brimmed with boldness and vitality.
"I am Left Vice Inspector General Han Un. On His Majesty's orders to inspect the realm, my path has led me to Guangdong."
That's why I revealed myself first. A proper greeting would prompt him to do the same.
"A noble guest, then. Forgive my rudeness."
"No harm done. It's not rude to strike up a conversation."
Even after learning who I was, the monk didn't panic. His eyes widened in surprise, sure, but he didn't grovel or fluster. Rare for a civilian before a high official.
"I am Do-yeon. I wander in search of enlightenment, with no fixed abode."
"Do-yeon."
Obviously a dharma name, not much help in identifying him. Even his secular name wouldn't have helped much—my knowledge of religious figures was shallow. I couldn't tell a historical giant from a nobody just by name. The only Yuan-Ming monk I knew was...
No way.
On a hunch, I studied Do-yeon's face. He'd mentioned not reaching the Age of Heaven, so likely past No Hyeok—around forty. Matched the monk I had in mind.
"A fine dharma name. Adds to the one Do-yeon I already know."
"Haha, too good a name, that's the problem. Hundreds of Do-yeons in the Central Plains alone."
"Then might I have your secular name? I'd hate to mix up a fated meeting with just a dharma name."
"Ah, of course."
Good—he nodded readily. I'd half-feared something like "I forgot my secular name the moment I took my vows."
"My secular name is Yo Cheon-hui."
Hearing it nearly made me burst out laughing. Yo Cheon-hui—the man who'd later be known as Yo Gwang-hyo, the sole Yuan-Ming era monk I knew. And here he was, in this backwater of Guangdong.
History's all twisted up.
With Emperor Yongle as Geum-ui-wi Commandant, what else to expect? Meeting a historical figure on the southern frontier was fate. And Yo Gwang-hyo, prime contributor to enthroning the emperor, was no slouch in talent. I could use him as a dedicated advisor for the court. So I whisked Do-yeon off to an inn, calling it "fate."
Building rapport first makes recruitment smoother.
"I had a good feeling about last night's dreams, but this is too generous a welcome."
Sudden invitation, yet he accepted graciously. Hunger? Or hard to refuse a Left Vice Inspector General? Didn't matter. Accepting meant our bond had begun.
Not a brute warrior—a brains guy, a staff officer.
I gazed at Do-yeon with unconscious warmth. Daesong already boasted twelve Hwagyeong masters. Brute force was secondary; intellect was key now. Seeing him stirred an inexplicable anticipation. A kingmaker strategist—how sharp, how capable must he be?
I'll recruit him, no matter what.
Letting talent like this slip was no way for a reincarnator to live.