That Familiar Taste - 3
Whether to call it a blessing amid misfortunes─ according to I Pil, the parakho we met at the inn were among the top-tier lunatics even in Gwangju's parakho scene. Unfortunately, with Gwangju swarming with martial artists, their numbers weren't small, but brawling in broad daylight wasn't the city average, right? That was satisfying enough. No need to squeeze them down to 50%; just beating the top 10% would do.
'If it could be 1%, that'd be ideal.' No, no greed. Better to handle the top 10% than manage above average.
"It won't be easy. Even in Guangdong, they're conducting their own cleanups, but give it a little time and the parakho start rampaging again."
"Is that so?"
However, the Pojeongsa, overseeing all of Guangdong, showed a somewhat negative reaction. They'd been picking off the top 10% lunatics sporadically, but total eradication had proven impossible so far. No matter how thoroughly they smashed them, they crawled back out like cockroaches. What a pain.
Unless the Guangdong officials were collectively slacking off, they must have been conducting sweeps regularly. Yet parakho still popped up at the inn, suggesting the law of conservation of trash was in full effect.
"Gwangju has long been a magnet for parakho not just from Guangdong but from beyond Yangguang. That's why they multiply faster than we can cull them."
"A truly regrettable state of affairs."
"What can we do? Just as rats flock to a granary full of grain, and locusts descend on fertile golden fields."
I gave an awkward smile at the Pojeongsa's bitter mutter. He wasn't wrong. With Guangdong officials routinely cracking down on murim heads, martial artists flocking to Gwangju meant the city was a land of plenty. It was a disaster born of the Pojeongsa governing Guangdong and Gwangju too well. Hard to blame him for that. How do you punish someone for running a city effectively? The fault lay with the vermin slithering in.
"We can't expel all outsiders either."
I quietly sipped my tea as pathos laced the Pojeongsa's voice. If his eyes rolled back in frustration, a massive expulsion order would sweep Guangdong. Better to rein in the chaos first.
'The safest bet is picking a moderate faction.' My go-to method elsewhere: officially recognizing a representative murim faction. It had the side effect of legitimizing one group, but in exchange, you could control countless others. Unbeatable cost-performance. Plus, in lunatic-infested Gwangju, with martial artists everywhere, creating an 'officially endorsed head' would spawn factions eager to cozy up to the government. Until now, the authorities only smashed heads; show a bit of favor, and kissing the ring becomes an option.
'How many will split off?' In Habuk, I'd sheltered a group; in Yunnan, endorsed Jeom-cheongpa; in Fujian, created a new Haomun. Those moves shook the local murim to their cores. Hope for official protection. Fear of eternal persecution without it. So, pick one here too—but who?
Regrettably, no suitable candidates. Post-Daesong founding, murim factions had withered sharply. For one to stand out, it'd need pre-imperial fame and untouchability, but Guangdong lacked such prestigious sects. Newer ones that rose after? Too lunatic—even within the top 10%—smashed long ago for ignoring the government's gaze. Viable heads crossed lines and got crushed; survivors weren't strong enough. A miraculous deadlock. Who to pick in this wasteland...?
'Any quietly sucking honey?' A greedy thought, but sincere. Ones dodging the gaze, intelligently profiting. Quietly scavenging amid the smashes. Perfect. But anyone that savvy would've jumped to other fields, not murim. No false hopes.
"In Gwangju, Jin-gwangmun stands solid."
There was.
"They move so covertly most don't even know the name, but anyone who's swung a sword here long knows them. Few businesses in Gwangju escape their touch."
Masters of evading scrutiny while cherry-picking prime spots. Even I admired their shameless talent.
"How do you know this?"
"This lowly one served as a guest warrior for various sects and families, including Jin-gwangmun. They don't usually take guests, but needed hands urgently then."
Not mere rumor—eyewitness. Satisfying. Seeing beats hearing a hundred times. I Pil had been in and out.
"Their compound looked ordinary outside, but inside? A new world. Training grounds, and every member's aura was extraordinary. Stronger than any Gwangju sect I saw."
"And they've stayed unknown till now..."
"They knew drawing official eyes would be disadvantageous."
"Perfect."
I Pil's words lifted my lips. Thoroughly dodging the gaze meant self-awareness; profiting covertly meant capability.
'Just right.' A sect knowing their bubble could pop anytime. None easier to handle. They'd grasp better than anyone that serious government action meant their end.
"I Pil."
"Yes, my lord."
"Anything on their leader?"
I Pil's brow furrowed faintly, dredging memories.
"Jin-gwangmun Leader Jin Gwang reached peak realm's edge, but beyond that, he's as obscure as the sect."
'Name's Jin Gwang...' Naming the sect after himself. Lazy or narcissistic?
Not famous, but rich. That's the dream we chased relentlessly. With blood and bone-shattering resolve. Heaven must've approved this wretch's struggles—no sect in Gwangju was more obscure yet wealthier than ours. Dream pursued, achieved.
So when word came of the Jwa-cheom Do-eosa in Gwangju, we halted all ops and hunkered down. No sense risking our hoard on a bad impression.
"Jin-gwangmun Leader Jin Gwang. Correct?"
"...Yes, my lord. This one is Jin Gwang."
But this? Unforeseen. Not us getting caught causing trouble—he came knocking first.
'Why?'
Cold sweat beaded. Many in Gwangju didn't know us—yet Kaepyeong's Jwa-cheom Do-eosa did? How? And if so, what intel brought him? Quiet sect? Or quietly extorting tribute?
'The latter.'
I bit my lip. If former, no surprise visit. Latter explained trekking here. Ruined. Process irrelevant—exposure mattered. No rowdiness, but tribute-taking was the crime.
"Thought Gwangju was all madmen, but you prove me wrong."
"O, overpraise, my lord. This one is but a commoner who founded a fringe sect..."
"Anyone leading must be prudent and covert like you."
I squeezed my eyes shut. Indeed, the latter. He knew everything.
"Jin Gwang."
"Y-yes... my lord..."
"I like the wise and quick-witted."
"...Your command is my life."
His hand patted my shoulder twice.
"We could build a fine bond. Don't you think?"
Not even a little, you bastard. I stared blankly at the ceiling. Days ago, dodging the storm— who knew it'd knock?
'Doomed.'
Tears pricked; I slid eyes shut. Plundered. Lives spared, but hoard gutted. Not fully, but felt like it.
"Heard Jin-gwangmun's taken tribute long-term."
"All to the government..."
"Tsk. All? What'll sustain you? Half suffices."
"Mercy... thank you..."
Half our fortune vanished.
"Interestingly, your tribute payers spoke well of you. You protect proportional to take."
"How could that be our merit? All thanks to the Pojeongsa soothing Gwangju's security and populace—"
"Maintain protection henceforth."
"Pardon?"
"Send all tribute to the government."
"Yes..."
Income streams seized. No more rich sect.
"No need for shadows serving merchants. As government-endorsed, serve Gwangju and its people."
Undesired fame thrust upon us. Famous but broke.
'Damn...'
Who foresaw this overnight calamity? Heaven's wrath unforeseen.
"Leader!"
"Enter."
I sighed at Elder Kyung's voice outside. Wanted to tell them all to scram, but his tone was off—dire enough to fear backlash from refusing guests.
"A-a government missive...! The contents are dire!"
No reaction. Already dire enough.
"All Gwangju sects taking tribute must submit to government control and remit full sums!"
"Spread to all already."
Sudden calm. Not just us—
"A-and the government grants us Jin-gwangmun three-tenths of receipts, tasking distribution to merchant-protecting sects..."
"What?"
I shot up. 'Grants and distribution?' Three-tenths of citywide tribute? 'Us handling it?'
... 'Ha.'
Vitality surged back.