It's Not Over Till It's Over - 3
Once upon a time, there was a sect called Yangminmun in Guangxi. The name might sound a bit odd, but the "yangmin" in Yangminmun didn't refer to ordinary folk—it meant the two peoples. More precisely, the mainstream ethnic groups of the Central Plains and their kin.
Yangminmun was the sect that prevented conflicts between those two peoples and mediated their disputes.
"Compared to other murim sects or clans, they acted in a rather heterogeneous way, true to their name."
I nodded immediately at the Branch Manager's words. When a typical sect is founded, they usually name it after the founding patriarch, the region they settle in, or the signature martial arts they practice. A name like "Two Peoples" wasn't exactly conventional. That was why Yangminmun felt less like a sword- and spear-wielding murim sect and more like a civic group contributing to the community with a hearty laugh.
They pursued the image of a kind neighborhood uncle rather than an overbearing warrior, and the people of Guangxi would run to them whenever ethnic disputes arose. In a way, it showed the people trusted murim over the government, but Yangminmun's heyday was during the Yuan Dynasty, when the Mongols ruled the Central Plains.
Who would the people trust more—the barbarian government or fellow Central Plains folk?
"Even the Mongol barbarians tolerated Yangminmun's activities. Or rather, they had to tolerate them."
"The Mongols had weak central control anyway. Plus, they left the Yangguang region to local powers rather than managing it directly, so they had no bandwidth to meddle with Yangminmun."
"Your Excellency the Left Vice Inspector General speaks truly."
Even a strongly centralized Central Plains dynasty struggles to control remote fringes like Yangguang. How much more so for the Mongols, who were even further removed from centralization? Combined with the long-standing tradition of non-interference in murim affairs, Yangminmun could thrive undisturbed.
Crucially, they say Yangminmun neither collected tribute from the people nor threatened them with swords. From the Mongols' perspective, a civic group preventing ethnic strife was no reason for suppression.
"In any case, thanks to Yangminmun, disturbances in Guangxi remained just that—disturbances. But alas, they crumbled during the Founding War."
"A true pity."
In chaotic times, sects rise and fall all the time, but the loss of a group that soothed local sentiments and mediated people's disputes wasn't something to celebrate. Of course, Daesong keeps its distance from murim non-interference. Even if Yangminmun had survived, they couldn't have operated as before—but the government could have absorbed their expertise and networks. By heavily recruiting their alumni, for instance.
"With the mediators gone, it's no surprise Guangxi grew rowdy, but I never imagined it'd escalate this far."
I shared the Branch Manager's bitter smile and complicated feelings. If it were just a manpower shortage, I could throw my whole body into fixing it. But when specialized knowledge and know-how are required, even the government's utmost efforts fall short.
"If only some remnant of Yangminmun still existed."
"I agree completely."
The Branch Manager nodded in shared lament. Without the sect itself, even fragments would do—but it collapsed during the Founding War, decades ago. No shards could possibly remain.
'Damn Mongols.'
Somehow, this boiled down to the Mongols' karma too. Without those bastards, Yangminmun wouldn't have fallen. Logically, any Central Plains sect collapsing during the Founding War was 100% the Mongols' fault. Our Founding Emperor was innocent.
"...Remnants, you say."
As I shelved my regrets about Yangminmun to discuss alternatives, the Branch Manager stroked his chin and muttered.
"Your Excellency... Actually, it's not that there are no remnants worth calling such."
"Pardon?"
I couldn't help but ask. The main body was shattered decades ago, yet fragments lingered? No, more than that—if the Branch Manager knew, they'd been under watch for ages, yet never utilized? Just monitored?
"Sounds like there's a problem with it."
High odds, then, that whatever remained wasn't normal. The Branch Manager was clutching his neck over this heavy ethnic strife issue. The longer it dragged, the worse his reputation and performance reviews. Yet he hesitated to swallow even lye for a solution?
That meant it was something worse than lye. Even a little frightening.
To rise to Branch Manager meant he was a seasoned mid-level administrator. If even he shrank from it...
"It's a problem, yes, but..."
With a deep sigh, the Branch Manager leaned toward me, still stroking his chin.
"A former elder of Yangminmun resides on the outskirts of Geomju."
?
"He was exceptionally talented, becoming an elder at a young age. That's why he outlived the others even after they passed."
"But—"
For a split second, 'Then why is Geomju in this state if such a man exists?' nearly slipped out. I held it back. The Branch Manager surely knew what I was thinking. Pressing him would just insult him as an incompetent fool.
"Does he lack prestige or have a personality issue?"
"No. I can't vouch for his inner thoughts, but outwardly, he was an exemplary scholar."
"Huh."
My head grew even more muddled. A reclusive talent: elder material with prestige and ability. If I were the Branch Manager, I'd have groveled three hundred times, not just three.
"But there's this one unfortunate issue..."
"What is it?"
At my question, he patted his knee firmly.
"He has none of these."
"Ah."
A sigh escaped me naturally. Sajian, elder of Yangminmun. Born in Guangxi with the surname Sa, his talent and prestige sparked jokes that he must be a descendant of Sa Wang Sa Seop. Pure jest, but invoking that Sa Seop spoke volumes.
Sa Seop might be a faint presence in novels or games, but in real Vietnamese history, he was a titan who profoundly shaped it. In historical impact, he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Cao Cao or Liu Bei.
And here was a fallen sect's elder rumored to be his descendant. Undoubtedly commanding immense respect beyond Geomju, across Guangxi.
'Lost his legs.'
And that venerable elder had lost his legs in an unfortunate accident.
"During the Founding War's chaos, some of the seventy-two forest bandit strongholds attacked the city. Sajian held them off to buy time for the people's evacuation—and met with disaster. His right leg was gravely injured."
Not just any accident, but protecting the people. Hearing that, I understood the Branch Manager's position.
Living on the outskirts meant Sajian was essentially in seclusion. He'd proven with his body that he was done with worldly affairs.
Recruit a man who'd lost a leg shielding the people, now seeking quiet retirement in the wilds? No, even bothering him slightly?
Geomju's public opinion was obvious. Trying to soothe the people would earn their hatred instead.
'Is this it?'
But that was the Branch Manager's local bind, not mine from the capital. No one would decry me for approaching Sajian.
So I set out to meet him—and encountered three ferocious guard dogs.
Woof! Woof woof!
Grrrrr...!
Bark bark! Bark!
They barked with the fury of Cerberus guarding the underworld. I froze momentarily. They looked like country mutts, but their size rivaled retrievers—who knew what they'd been fed.
Kki-ing!
Kki-ong!
As I stared blankly, fearing they'd bite if I approached, Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i howled at the dogs.
Whine, whine...
Grrr...
Woof...
'Whoa.'
The effect was immediate. Recognizing the white deer as spirit beasts, the hellfire-fierce dogs drooped their ears and tails, at a loss.
Spirit beasts commanded respect even among animals. Truly heaven-sent creatures.
"Who's out there?"
The commotion of beasts establishing hierarchy drew Sajian's attention; an elderly voice called from inside.
"Are you Elder Sajian?"
"I am."
"I am Han Un, Left Vice Inspector General. Hearing of the hero who fought valiantly for the realm and its people, I came to pay my respects."
The voice paused briefly, then the door opened.
"What an honored guest. This old man has nothing to his name but age—please, speak plainly."
White hair and beard. Right leg missing below the knee. The elderly man sat on the floor, mobility limited.
"How could I treat an elder as my inferior? Without your dedication, Guangxi today—and our peaceful realm—might not exist."
"Hah, really."
Sajian looked awkward at my demeanor. Naturally so. With ears attuned to the world, he'd heard of the Left Vice Inspector General—a royal and high official—treating a mere commoner like him with such courtesy. It'd be weirder if he weren't burdened.
Yet even as an unemployed hermit commoner, Sajian's standing in Guangxi was solid. Having suffered grave wounds buying time for the people, even central murim elders would view him favorably at first glance.
Thus, I had to be courteous. He lacked official rank and status, but possessed everything else.
"For such a noble guest to come with noble beasts and speak so graciously—what an undeserved honor in my twilight years."
As Sajian chuckled softly and gripped the door to rise, I rushed to stop him. I'd come to coax, not let him stand on ceremony. Besides, a one-legged elder straining to stand and falling would be a disaster. Even a martial artist could be badly hurt.
'Your body isn't yours anymore...'
From the moment I laid eyes on you, it's the nation's body.