May Peace Be With You - 5
As Jo Wi-cheo said, this raid on the Yeonmu Guard deviated from established procedures. To put it in slightly 21st-century terms, it was like coercive or illegal interrogation. What if you pull that kind of stunt and the target turns out innocent, or you fail to get the evidence you want? There's no worse outcome. It's like trying to frame someone only to get framed yourself—if you ignore procedures and law but can't pin them down, the karma bounces right back at you.
But that's only true if you lack the stature to handle the backlash. 'If you don't leverage your bloodline now, how else do you live without regrets?'
Other royal grandsons live cushy lives in their domains, lording it over everyone. Sure, they put in some effort learning martial arts or classics, but they get the best masters for swordsmanship and the finest scholars for studies. And once the day's lesson ends, they can slip right back into being the king's grandson. They fully exploit their bloodline privileges without having to scramble around like a dog everywhere, like I do.
I'm just using those same privileges for easier work—and not for personal gain, but for the public good. 'Who'd complain if a royal grandson looks out for the public interest?'
Besides, we only started chopping off the Yeonmu Guard's fingers after uncovering their precious secret ledger. If they were innocent, it would've ended as a surprise inspection. Unfortunately, we're now in the punishment phase.
"Wi-cheo."
"Yes, my lord."
"It seems these Xiang families hold considerable sway in Namyeong. They've stuffed money into every local official's pockets, so it's weirder if they didn't throw their weight around."
The simmering displeasure made me tap the Yeonmu Guard's head with the documents in hand. If it were a wooden slip instead of a scroll, it would've had more impact. Paper's invention suddenly felt like a curse.
"The Xiang aren't a murim clan; they're just ordinary local gentry. It's not like officials have reverted to untouchable status—it's plain old collusion."
Truth be told, this kind of graft is everyday routine, nothing special. Daesong's regions are vast, each rivaling a small nation, with populations beyond counting. In such places, money and interests flowing between officials and the wealthy without any strings attached? That's the real impossibility. Bluntly put, ties between officials and tycoons are par for the course.
I'd planned to overlook run-of-the-mill collusion or end it with a token reprimand. If it fattens the office coffers or smooths relations with local powers, it eases life for bureaucrats toiling on the ground. And if that gives local admins breathing room, the common folk benefit too. I wasn't about to nitpick if officials padded their own pockets in the process. Besides, anyone gorging beyond "reasonable" levels gets handled by the inspectors scattered everywhere. Those censor-inspectors aren't for show.
"But even the censor-inspectors got in on the graft and crossed into excess."
I smacked the Yeonmu Guard's head again. I tour the Central Plains not to hunt bureaucratic corruption—that's for the inspectors—but to leverage central authority and Giwangga's prestige on thorny local issues. To keep the murim factions sprouting everywhere in check. I trusted the inspectors to handle graft, which is why I focused elsewhere.
But the very inspectors meant to police corruption joined in. With their sole brake line snapped, Namyeong went berserk and crossed the line. 'Officials harming the people?'
No matter how corrupt or lazy they get, I can't tolerate them hurting civilians. Especially not direct violence like assault. Collusion with murim? Cut the ties and impose military service obligations to fix it. Harsh exploitation? Strip the culprits bare, compensate victims tenfold, and apologize. But innocent folk beaten in broad daylight under official sufferance? That shatters trust in the government—how do you even mend that?
'Damn bastards.'
I could forgive a lot, but not this. Anyone failing to protect the people has no right calling themselves officials. Anyone who buries public trust in the dirt isn't a bureaucrat—they're traitors. 'Process them all.'
For the officials to save their skins, they'd have needed to cut ties with the Xiang and grovel within two days. But that golden window's closed—no mercy now.
The Yeonmu Guard's secret ledger detailed every official linked to the Xiang and exactly how much they'd pocketed. If it'd been evidence for rooting out corruption, I'd have given a standing ovation. Sadly, it became a mutual suicide button instead—but its utility was undeniable.
"Capture them all alive. If any slip away, you'll bear their crimes."
"Understood, my lord!"
So I put the ledger to work, turning the Namyeong Guard Commandant into my hunting dog for Namyeong and its surrounds. He's not clean in this mess either, but he's taken relatively less and shown no active aid to the Xiang, so I tossed him a lifeline: nail this op, save your neck.
For this moment, his rank 3rd grade outstripping mine, or mobilizing troops under duress rather than request, meant nothing. Only swiftly nailing the culprits mattered. 'Gotta salvage some trust.'
The locals know Jang Jin got beaten. They also know—or soon will—that no action followed an innocent man assaulted in daylight. Trust in the government is plummeting in real time. The officials aren't the only ones who missed the golden hour—I did too. Never dreamed they'd sit idle for two days.
Small mercy: I didn't blow it completely. This margin of error? Flashy theatrics can cover it.
"You there, scum!"
"Anyone averting their eyes gets theirs gouged first!"
Public captures with troops mobilized, just like this. Now the two-day silence becomes "time spent mustering forces." The public will happily buy it—they love a good show of force. Hell, the sole victim is Jang Jin, whom I've already consoled and apologized to.
"That's the sub-prefect?"
"Yes, my lord! It is!"
I eyed the sniveling sub-prefect being dragged out, his booming affirmative echoing. Sub-prefects handle trials across departments—mere 7th grade, but raking in bribes hand over fist thanks to their role.
"At least he's coming quietly. If anyone resists hard, lopping a foot's fine."
"Th-that would be..."
"It's fine."
"Yes! Noted!"
I glanced at the hesitating commandant, then moved to check other sites. 'Not a clean one among them.'
I sighed at the bribes sprinkled from Namyeong's top brass down. Hyperbole aside, only fresh-faced rookies just entering service were free of it. Sad, but expected. The top dog, the branch manager, was already gorging on Xiang scraps—who below him would hold back? Anyone touched by fieldwork hustled for those sweet bribes.
What can you do? A bit of hassle, but Namyeong's gone mad—time to normalize it the hard way. 'Curse those Xiang.'
Fresh waves of disgust and rage furrowed my brow. If those idiots hadn't stirred shit, none of this happens. I'd have chatted amicably with the Baekpi Clan in Namyeong, then headed to Gyeirim soon after.
But that modest hope crumbled. They didn't just trample public trust and safety—they obstructed a left vice censor-in-chief and royal grandson. 'No forgiving that, no matter how you slice it.'
Whatever history or backstory they claim, whatever excuse for beating Jang Jin I don't know—none of it mitigates now.
I never imagined it'd come to this. Who raids censor-inspectors without hard evidence? Officials in the same bureau usually let things slide amicably, so I figured the left vice censor-in-chief's grilling would fizzle out under the inspector's deflection. Never dreamed they'd mobilize Namyeong Guard troops on the spot.
On paper, the commandant's grade outranks the vice censor-in-chief, and forcing local troops as an inspector carries heavy risks. I thought it'd end in warnings at worst. No evidence, so no big reaction from the vice censor-in-chief.
'To go this rogue...'
Unthinkable. Who'd guess a Dochalwon official—meant to police bureaucratic crimes and violations—would lead the charge ignoring procedure? The left vice censor-in-chief is known for flexible handling, with a rep for lacking rough edges despite the post. Even I in Guangxi had heard the rumors.
"These the ringleaders?"
Whoever spread those rumors got it dead wrong. He lacks rough edges not from smoothness, but because he never needed to show temper. Everyone kowtows before the "left vice censor-in-chief" title. Before the royal bloodline. He never had cause to draw his blade.
'Damn bastard.'
I glared at the Xiang patriarch beside me, grinding my teeth. This wretch is why I'm in this mess. Without him, the vice censor-in-chief wouldn't have witnessed the beating; we'd have apologized at worst. But this fool threatened to expose our ties if he approached, freezing us.
Didn't I say no need to confess preemptively on passable matters? Want to grab his collar and scream if this is "passable"?
"Left Vice Censor-in-Chief, my lord."
"What."
Even now, the Xiang head addressed him.
"As I understand, my lord, you serve His Majesty to uphold heavenly order. Even if we've sinned, there are procedures. Shouldn't the left vice censor-in-chief, guardian of imperial law's sanctity, uphold it?"
'Is he insane?'
The words sparked the thought. Sure, he ignored procedure. But call him out now? Spilling his guts since he's doomed anyway?
"Oh, does it pain you that the left vice censor-in-chief ignored procedure?"
"I worried it might tarnish your lordship's reputa—"
"Wi-cheo. I'm resigning to His Majesty—hold this."
"Yes."
The vice censor-in-chief tossed his official badge to the nearby inspector.
"From now, I'm no censor-in-chief—just a royal grandson. No need to fret my honor. Wild brats with good bloodlines rampaging? Happens all the time."
With that, he raised his sheathed sword. No need to say the Xiang head started taking hits from it.