Please Don't Raise Your Voice - 5
"I declare without reservation. The so-called Murim rabble of today must be thoroughly reduced to nothingness and recreated."
This ultimate technique fired off as an inaugural shot the moment the debate began. Even the gongsin, who had been planning to leisurely observe what the young scholars would say and how they'd bicker with their logic, visibly flinched. I get it. From their perspective, it's like going to watch the neighborhood kids play war games, only to see them pull out real AK-47s instead of sticks. It's so earnest and ferocious beyond imagination that their minds freeze for a moment.
"Puhuhu...!"
Of course, the gongsin are living legends who waged war against the hegemonic power of the Mongols back in the day and have been pillars of Daesong for decades since. They're the sort who can master their emotions at will. And they're crazy enough to laugh instead of getting angry or flustered when some young scholar blurts out in the imperial presence, "Shouldn't we smash all the Murim bastards and rebuild from scratch?" Take Gi Gangwang, who just let out that chuckle, for example.
"Uryang. The young friend spoke up with courage—should we interrupt him?"
"Huu... My apologies. It was just so intriguing that I couldn't help myself."
As Grandfather reined him in, Gi Gangwang gave a slight bow toward him. Even amid that, his shoulders were twitching a bit—clearly, the statement had really struck a chord.
Can't blame him.
Gi Gangwang had lost his family to the Changgang Su-ro Ship-pal Chae—the ones commonly called the unorthodox sects. The so-called righteous factions had turned a blind eye to his tragedy and vengeance. To him, the total subjugation of the old Murim must sound more appealing and stimulating than anything.
And sure enough, the look he directed at the scholar who fired off that ultimate shot had softened dramatically.
"Sorry for the disturbance. Please continue."
"Ah, yes. Thank you, Your Highness."
The king himself had apologized, leaving the scholar flustered this time, but true to form for someone bold enough to unleash an ultimate technique in the throne room, he quickly reignited his fervor.
"What is Murim? It's called Murim because martial artists covered the world like a forest. And a martial artist is one who practices righteousness and upholds justice."
It was textbook stuff, but coming right after such a bold opening claim, it drew the eyes of the gongsin and ministers toward him.
"Yet martial artists turned their backs on righteousness and failed to uphold justice. If so, they are not martial artists but vagabond bandits—parakho—who've overrun the world like weeds. Shouldn't we burn them out to enrich the soil and plant new seeds and saplings atop it?"
"That's far too extreme."
The immediate rebuttal shifted the throne room's attention to a new scholar.
"It's true the old Murim ignored righteousness and justice, remaining silent. We can't deny they betrayed the trust of the realm and the people. But haven't they already paid the price in various ways? Would you ignore even that?"
"The price? When the unjust and inhumane are still walking free?"
"Death can't be the only punishment. Does Daesong law demand capital punishment for thieves, those who harm others, or those who turn a blind eye to the needy—all those crimes?"
No, it doesn't. Even the Qin of the Warring States didn't chop off heads or waists for petty crimes. They were strict on rewards and punishments, but not everything got the death penalty.
"We don't need capital punishment for every crime. But the old Murim's silence was karma deserving of it. They enjoyed all sorts of rights and privileges under the banner of trust—then betrayed that trust. Without that trust as a foundation, they're nothing but ruthless bandits plundering the officials and commoners."
"The price for that ruthless act was confiscation of assets and forced relocation. We stripped them of trust and honor, uprooted their foundations. They paid everything short of death."
The moderate scholar who said that turned his gaze to me. What? Why are you looking at me? I have no intention of engaging with you lot.
"Everyone knows how thoroughly the Right Deputy Censor-in-Chief punished the Nangung family—the so-called foremost clan of the old Murim—back when he was Left Vice Inspector General. He dared to rename their symbol, the Sovereign Sword Form, to the Prostrate Minister Sword Form."
"Haha!"
"Kuh, yeah, that happened."
Mentioning the Nangung family warmed the gongsin's mood. The incident where the Sovereign Sword Form was downgraded to Prostrate Minister Sword Form had earned thunderous applause from all the gongsin, including the king—it was that big a deal.
"The Right Deputy Censor-in-Chief stripped them of their petty pride and vanity. Because they ignored the will of heaven and the people! And he gave the parakho stirring trouble across the Central Plains a chance to be reborn. A chance to defend the realm now, after ignoring injustice in the past! A chance to become true martial artists guarding the borders!"
Appealing to the other scholars and the assembled gongsin, the moderate turned back to the radical one.
"Could there be greater punishment than this? A more perfect punishment than what the Right Deputy Censor-in-Chief so painstakingly devised?"
Oh.
Then he added, "Are you denying the Right Deputy Censor-in-Chief's decision right now?" Clever. It's hard for even the most radical scholar to respond confidently with the man himself watching. A bit cowardly, but undeniably effective.
"Th-that..."
Sure enough, the guy who'd fired an ultimate technique in the throne room faltered for the first time.
"Also, as I recall, all the traitors who collaborated with the Mongol barbarians during the founding war had their clans exterminated. The old Murim didn't escape rightful punishment—they received different penalties based on the severity of their crimes! The surviving Murim forces weren't guilty enough for death!"
Seizing the opening, the moderate poured out more arguments. Once you've seized the momentum, raise your voice—that's the best way. Dominating the atmosphere comes before debating legitimacy.
"...Their crimes in that era may have been light! But the sins accumulated across generations are far too thick!"
Yet the radical, aiming for a reversal amid the tilting mood, was no slouch either.
"Yes, the current old Murim didn't collaborate with the barbarians! Those who shook hands with them all died, leaving only those who didn't! But so what?"
"Pardon?"
"Murim exists to fight and defeat the barbarians! To protect the people from barbarian blades! To drive the barbarians from the Central Plains! That's why we trusted that, when crisis struck, they'd rise heroically to fight! That's why the taboo against official interference in Murim lasted a thousand years!"
The fierce roar filled the gongsin's faces with growing interest and anticipation. I wonder what this young fellow will say to turn the tables—what words he'll use to condemn Murim.
"You mentioned Daesong law earlier? Where does it say to execute those guilty of light crimes!"
"Yes, I did."
"Then where in Daesong law—or Tang, Sui, or Han law—does it grant official non-interference in Murim!"
Dragging in the law made the moderate flinch this time. He's right on that too. Official non-interference is just a custom for administrative convenience—no one's crazy enough to codify it. Honestly, outsourcing public security to civilians is embarrassing. Press it legally, and that castle on sand crumbles instantly. It's an unlegislated mercy, custom, and shame from the state—push hard with the sword dance, and it all shatters.
"Murim enjoyed rights not enshrined in law! They lorded over the realm with undue privileges, basking in the people's respect and fear! Now, when it suits them, they invoke the law? If they enjoyed unlegislated rights! They must bear unlegislated duties too! They must atone for a millennium of karma!"
"Quite right. How many rights did they enjoy over a thousand years? How vast is the legacy inherited from their ancestors? Did they show dignity and honor worthy of it?"
"No need to mention the Mongols. When the Khitans crossed the Great Wall, when the Jurchens crossed the Yellow River—what did Murim do? They squabbled over their interests, and some even bowed to the barbarians!"
Seizing the moment, three radicals advocating harsh measures against Murim opened fire in unison. Spot on, every word. For ages, Murim was too busy clashing as righteous vs. unorthodox, clans vs. sects. They'd probably fought each other more than the barbarians.
"And the destruction of Murim I call for isn't the death of martial artists. It's the destruction and rebuilding of all sects and clans."
The somewhat softened statement from total annihilation furrowed the moderates' brows slightly.
"Dissolve all sects formed by parakho for selfish ends, confiscate their estates and assets. For families who lorded as Murim clans, mandate separation of direct and branch lines. Abolish the very fence called Murim, leaving martial artists with nothing to rebuild from scratch."
Not purging the unjust among Murim, but forging Murim anew from the righteous. With that addition, the radical scholar spoke, and the moderate let out a small sigh. A look that said plenty to say, but momentum lost—
"If so, wouldn't conscripting all Murim folk into the military be faster?"
No, not conceding—gathering breath for a counterattack.
"What do you think broken sects and clans turned into resentful martial artists would do?"
"We're just reclaiming undue rights. Harbor resentment for that, and they're rebels—crush rebels decisively."
"Where does the administrative and military manpower for that come from—dug from the ground? Or will you burden the poor people with heavier taxes and corvée?"
Suddenly raising practical issues shifted the gongsin's mood again. The moderates' arguments so far had an idealistic tint. Sticking strictly to law meant the old Murim had already paid enough. But now invoking real resources like admin power, troops, funds? Even the gongsin enjoying the kids' spectacle had to pause. The national drain from suppressing, subjugating, purging Murim—that's a shackle even Murim-hating gongsin can't deny.
Daesong's future is bright. With young scholars as wise and brave as that one, Daesong will surely forge ahead unhindered.
They're doing better than expected.
Looking down at the six scholars yelling at each other—now even pointing fingers—I smiled in satisfaction. The intensifying debate was stirring even the observing gongsin. Whispers and exchanges began popping up one by one.
The radicals demanding harsh punishment on Murim scratched the gongsin's pent-up frustrations. The moderates advocating leniency shoved harsh reality in their faces. Reason and instinct stimulated at once. Ideal and reality laid bare.
This'll stir things up for a while.
This debate would get the gongsin wriggling again. Sensing their unrest, Murim would bow even lower. If you can't embrace or crush Murim completely, maintaining this standoff is best.
"Enough. Take a break and resume."
That's why I halted the debate temporarily. If the heat rose too much, even among the gongsin, radicals might leap to action.