Last Dance - 3
The emergence of these water bandits wasn't anything particularly novel, but the fact that they had the common folk locked up like prisoners was far from ordinary. Bandits stealing the property of innocent people was commonplace plunder. In contrast, trafficking human flesh itself was a heinous capital crime. The severity of the offenses wasn't even comparable.
And if they were bold enough to engage in human trafficking, the odds were high they'd dipped their hands in murder as well.
"W-We know we shouldn't have even thought about it, but we haven't actually done it! This was the first time we've ever held people captive!"
Whether this was fortunate or not—the bandits we'd just subdued hadn't trafficked anyone yet. They'd only captured the villagers as preparation for it. That changed things a bit.
Their wicked intent remained unchanged, but even so, you couldn't punish an attempted crime the same as a committed one. Instead of summary beheading without trial or investigation, we could send them to even harsher postings for mandatory military service or let them ripen in prison for years as a substitute penalty.
They got lucky.
Yes, this encounter had been lucky for everyone involved. The bandits were caught before committing a death-worthy sin, the villagers rescued before being sold, and the Branch Manager had nipped a human trafficking ring in the bud right in his jurisdiction. How joyous and fortunate was that?
Moreover, these societal dregs had been given a chance at reformation. The villagers received appropriate compensation thanks to the Branch Manager's mercy. A perfect happy ending for all.
"Branch Manager."
"Yes, Left Vice Inspector General. Please speak."
"It seems the heavens were moved by your virtue, allowing us to save the villagers before the worst could happen. Before arriving in Yuju-bu, I'd seen many tragic sights, but things feel different here. I'm looking forward to it."
And for even greater happiness, I offered some words of comfort. The Branch Manager must have been on edge after the Namyeong incident. To him, I essentially said, 'In Namyeong, there were so many virtue-lacking bastards that I had to dance with my sword, but you seem virtuous and upright, so no need for sword dances on my watch.' From his perspective, it must have felt like a ticking time bomb had been defused.
"It was merely my duty—how could you call that virtue?"
For the first time, the Branch Manager's eyes—previously darting about as if gauging my mood—settled into calm. Of course, it was routine for regular officials to fear inspection censors. But if that fear escalated to extreme terror or tension, they couldn't perform their duties, and might even resort to things they shouldn't.
Excess or deficiency in anything was to be avoided.
"If I have such virtue that the heavens are moved, then your presence here must be heaven's will."
"Haha, you're too kind."
With that ritual exchange of virtuous flattery, the Branch Manager's tension visibly ebbed. Who knew mental health management was part of censor duties too? The role of Left Vice Inspector General was surprisingly varied.
Leading the captured bandits and rescued villagers alongside the Branch Manager, we entered Yuju-bu with heads held high. It felt like returning from a victorious campaign as a triumphant general.
This is a good start.
A smile crept onto my face unbidden. Outside Namyeong, I'd caught the beast the Baekpi Sect was chasing; outside Yuju-bu, I'd nabbed the water bandits sucking the villagers dry. Both protected the people and public order, but considering what followed, Namyeong's start hadn't been great. I'd witnessed a villager getting beaten in broad daylight, after all.
But in Yuju-bu, we were greeted with cheers, parading in unofficial triumph as the schedule kicked off. Even the most stoic person would be moved by such acclaim. And I, unexpectedly, was a sentimental sort. After the spicy ordeal in Namyeong, this mild flavor brought tears to my eyes.
Hm?
Riding Kki-ing-i and waving to the cheering crowd, I sensed a faint incongruity.
Something's off.
The villagers cheering for me and the Branch Manager didn't look haggard and worn by life—thankfully—but their appearances and clothing felt subtly different. Not the natural variations between people. It was the subtle disparity you notice with foreigners, the cultural gap upon entering a new sphere. Differences impossible within one city hit me sharply.
"Sir? What's wrong?"
Noticing me suddenly scanning Yuju-bu, the Branch Manager asked curiously.
"It's just... peculiar. Their smiles are bright, their clothes clean—clear signs of your virtue as Branch Manager—but there's this inexpressible sense of alienation."
"Alienation?"
He tilted his head, then chuckled.
"I see. Outsiders notice right away. I'm so used to it, I don't unless I look closely."
His knowing reaction made me stare silently. What is it? Tell me so I can laugh too. Ignorance would have been bliss; half-sensing the oddity was exhausting.
"Yuju-bu is a city of countless ethnicities. Over twenty that I know of."
"...Twenty?"
The number made my mind reel. Even in Geomju-bu, a single ethnicity sparked plenty of disputes. Not one or two minorities alongside the mainstream Central Plains folk, but over twenty? One from each would form a small squad.
Are they insane?
My hands began to tremble. His words were that horrifying. A city where over twenty ethnicities coexisted. What incidents exploded daily? Did the officials wake each morning wondering what chaos the night had wrought?
"They say the Emperor once called Yuju-bu a 'little Central Plains' for it. A place where countless peoples unite as one—the ideal paradise for a new world, a new Central Plains."
"I... see."
His proud expression stopped me from saying, 'But north of the Yangtze has hardly any other ethnicities, right?' If the man on the ground took pride in it, who was I to shatter that?
"And lately, Yangminmun has expanded here, making ethnic integration even smoother."
"Pardon?"
"Come to think of it, you witnessed Yangminmun's revival firsthand, didn't you, Left Vice Inspector General?"
I nodded blankly. This timing, this place—Yangminmun's name was the last thing I expected.
It's barely been rebuilt.
If my memory served, the revival was recent. Yet they'd already reached Yuju-bu from Geomju-bu? How fast were they expanding? Was it their past fame across Guangxi speeding things up? Retracing familiar paths was easy, after all.
"Yangminmun's branch is on the eastern outskirts. You might even recognize some faces."
"Seeing friends from Geomju-bu here would be a pleasure."
I said it, but I doubted it. The only Yangminmun face I knew was Sajian...
We spent two days at the inn again. Not hiding from trouble, but observing how Yuju-bu operated. Thankfully, it stayed peaceful—no major incidents. Had the bandits sold the villagers, it'd have been chaos, but we nipped it early.
No wonder the Branch Manager rushed over.
Might've been anxiety from Namyeong, or just no urgent tasks here. A truly swamped official couldn't move even for a nearby censor. That thought eased my mind rapidly.
Seemed I could rest lightly in Yuju-bu and head straight to Gyeirim.
Damn water bandit bastards.
Without them, I'd already be there. But we'd averted a near-trafficking crisis for the villagers—focus on the positive. Hearing later about trafficking in a overlooked spot would sour my mood far worse. A bit of hassle for peace of mind? Worth it—
"You said you're heading to Yangminmun tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Time to settle whose land it really is."
?
"Frankly, even saying we 'need to settle it' pisses me off. It's been our family's land for decades—where do they get off claiming ancestral rights?"
"Well, a hundred years ago, it probably was their ancestors'."
"What does pre-war even mean? By that logic, the entire Yuju-bu changes hands!"
What the hell.
An ominous conversation drifted from two tables over. Yangminmun? Land ownership? Settle it definitively? Ancestral land?
Shit.
My instincts screamed emergency. Just those fragments screamed trouble. Even in the 21st century, land disputes meant no-holds-barred fights. In this 14th-century era, land was survival, irreplaceable wealth. A dispute over that?
Not even high officials could judge lightly.
And why at Yangminmun?
Obviously, no bureaucracy would dump tough cases on a mere sect. Hell, why were civilians judging at all? Where were the censors?
I thought it'd pass quietly.
Regrettably, I couldn't let my guard down until the absolute end. Ignoring this felt like inviting a massive headache later. Experience and gut screamed it.
...At least it's a peaceful arbitration, not armed conflict? Silver lining?
I hated myself for clinging to that consolation.