Surely There's a Reason for This - 1
After the small disturbance at Shaolin, the murim power survey proceeded smoothly. Well, not 100% smoothly, to be precise. The murim registration card proposal I'd submitted to the Right Censor-in-chief had received the Emperor's approval, but that just gave us the justification to push the policy forward—it didn't make things convenient.
Producing and distributing the cards would have to be handled entirely by the government's administrative machinery. But that was within the range I'd anticipated. Better this than heading into it blind, investigating one by one from scratch. So yeah, "smoothly" was a fair word.
Crucially, producing and distributing the registration cards was the job of the local bureaucrats, not mine. I wasn't the one sweating it.
'The central and provincial offices bear different burdens.' The center agonizes over policies and proclaims them; the provinces move accordingly. What a perfect, beautiful division of labor.
With that, the survey of second-rate martial artists was progressing at a steady—if slow—pace, and for first-rate and above, the sects and clans were holding tight to their own, so the end was in sight.
'Thankfully, there were no more places like Shaolin.'
The merit sects that shone during the founding war weren't just Shaolin. They'd all gotten blood on their hands, including those with strong Buddhist leanings. I'd worried another report might come up like, "Our elders have gone into seclusion too—we'll have to track them down separately."
But no. The other merit sects mourned their fallen comrades while proudly owning the blood on their own hands. Even the Buddhist-leaning ones felt no guilt over taking lives. Saying it like that might make those sects sound monk-like, but the late Yuan Mongols were vicious beyond words, so it was fine. They hadn't killed lives—they'd just sent Asuras back to the underworld where they belonged.
'Maybe it'll wrap up leisurely in about two months?'
Two months. Just two months to tally every first-rate and above across the entire Great Song. The mere thought brought a smile to my face—it was such a beautiful word. And during those two months, all I'd have to do was sit back. No need to roam around suppressing murim superhumans; just compile the reports comfortably from my seat. A bit of cross-verification and review, sure, but that was tolerable.
Truly, the best place for a person is the center. No wonder bureaucrats from ancient times to now hunkered down in the capital.
"I can even attend Wi-cheo's wedding."
- Shiiik!
I addressed Samshik, coiled on my desk, and he hissed back in agreement. Jo Wi-cheo's wedding was set for a month from now. If work had gone insane, I might've ghosted my dear subordinate's big day. That would've been a massive crisis, shaking the bond we'd built wandering the Central Plains together.
But the current vibe suggested I'd make it as a guest without issue. Success in safeguarding my one true human friendship.
'People really should live in the center.'
Keep rolling in the provinces, and weddings wouldn't even be the issue—you couldn't even get married.
'Gotta plant Jin-i squarely in the center too.' So I resolved. When Jin-i landed an official post, I'd pull strings for a central one. No way was he repeating my fate of central title but provincial hopping. With big bro and sis already central, how lonely would he be out there alone? We three siblings were born in Kaepyeong; we'd die there too.
"Deputy Censor-in-chief, sir. May I enter for a moment?"
"Ah, come in."
As I mulled that over, a familiar voice came from outside the door. Gyeong-ryeok, the Dochalwon clerk handling records. Ever since I became Deputy Censor-in-chief, he'd become something like my personal secretary.
- Shiiiiiik.
The door opened, and Samshik vanished into my sleeve. This guy was way too shy. He'd see Gyeong-ryeok plenty over the years—hiding every time was just annoying.
"Greetings, Deputy Censor-in-chief, sir."
Anyway, Gyeong-ryeok strode in briskly, clasped a scroll in hand, and bowed. Instinctive unease surged. A scroll gripped tight in his hand. Urgent enough to come straight to the Deputy Censor-in-chief. Anyone could tell it held something ominous.
"...Where's this report from?"
"Gu-gang."
"Damn."
And the origin was even more fantastical. Gu-gang. As the name implied, Gu Gangwang's stronghold where he was stationed. A report from there was highly likely tied to him.
'Burn it?' I seriously considered. If it burst into flames before I read it, it'd be a delivery error, not my fault, right? Of course, it stayed mere contemplation—I didn't purify it with fire. That might ease the moment, but my future would burn in hellfire. Fueled fiercely by Gu Gangwang's wind arts.
"Hand it over. I'll take a look."
"Yes, sir."
Swallowing bitterness, I unrolled the scroll Gyeong-ryeok handed me.
Onboard His Highness Gu Gangwang's fleet, currently patrolling the Yangtze with His Highness.
'What the hell.'
The first line was already incomprehensible. I mean, what? I'd guessed it involved Gu Gangwang since it was from Gu-gang, but an inspector joyriding on boats with him? What was this?
'Am I seeing things?' Wondering if my eyes were off, I checked the scroll again.
Onboard His Highness Gu Gangwang's fleet, currently patrolling the Yangtze with His Highness.
Regrettably, I'd seen it right.
'Gu Gangwang's fleet, huh.' The opening shock was so intense I lost the will to read on. What crime had this inspector committed to end up boating with Gu Gangwang? Past life as a water bandit? Nah, by that logic, I'd been the Yangtze Waterway Eighteen Bandits crew in my past life. I'd ridden his boat a few times myself.
"Sir?"
'Ah.'
Staring blankly at the scroll, Gyeong-ryeok spoke up curiously. Fair enough. Unrolling it and freezing—eyes and head stock-still—looked weird. If it weren't this bizarre scroll, I'd have read it normally.
"Is, uh, something wrong, sir?"
"No. Nothing. Just thinking."
I nodded reflexively, then barely shook my head. The problem was already here. Denying it would be shameless.
Attempted to survey murim forces in northern Jiangxi centered on Gu-gang, but His Highness insists water bandits are unorthodox too, so currently searching for water bandits.
'What now?'
I read on just in case, but the rest was even more shocking. From my time hanging with Gu Gangwang, I could guess. Probably his algorithm: "Water bandits = unorthodox = unorthodox are murim = murim, so survey per His Majesty's order."
But Gu Gangwang "surveying" water bandits? It wouldn't end at surveying. He'd exterminate on sight. Any found unorthodox murim would sink to the Yangtze bed or evolve into a government punishment squad.
'Then what's the point?' No bandits left to survey—what was the inspector even doing?
***
Another clear sky today—a good omen. Perfect for spotting hidden water bandits and cleansing the Yangtze.
"Don't you think so too?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Your words are profoundly correct."
I turned to the inspector handling northern Jiangxi, who bowed his head in reply. Satisfying. If it was our shared thought, it couldn't be wrong. Today, we'd make the Yangtze even cleaner.
"His Majesty worries greatly about murim, so as his subject, removing these threats is the right course. Frankly, I'm ashamed I haven't cleansed the Yangtze before he even commands it."
"Your Highness, His Majesty merely ordered us to grasp murim's strength—"
"Tch! Do you truly not grasp His Majesty's intent? Water bandits are unorthodox murim, and the unorthodox are vermin devouring the realm and people! Grasping vermin means the supreme command to exterminate them!"
"...This lowly one's thinking was shortsighted."
"Hm, good that you understand."
I glanced at the bowing inspector, then back to the Yangtze. Blue as the sky today. The Yellow River is fierce and turbid, but the Yangtze lofty and clear. Protecting this beauty is my mission, my life. Thus, all water bandits and unorthodox scum polluting it must be purged. Surely that's why His Majesty ordered the murim survey. Definitely.
"Hm?"
As I anticipated how many bandits would merge with the Yangtze today, something faint approached from the north. Flying—had to be a messenger pigeon or hawk. Size suggested hawk.
- Piiieeeeek!
'Spot on.'
As it neared the fleet, the messenger hawk's form sharpened. My eyes were still sharp. Lately, distant things blurred, bittersweet, but ten li was manageable.
"Looks like a messenger hawk from the Dochalwon."
"Dochalwon, eh."
I stared blankly at the hawk as the inspector spoke. Come to think of it, how was Han Un-i faring at the Dochalwon? Fun guy, popping up nationwide whenever forgotten. Now that I wasn't heading to Kaepyeong, no more sightings. A shame.
"Inspector."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"That thing. It's not for you—it's coming to me?"
The inspector fell silent, a bit flustered by my words. I'd assumed it was Dochalwon's reply to the report he'd sent. But it was for me, not him. Unexpected.
'Let's see.'
I extended my arm casually, and it landed softly. Stroking the long-distance hawk a couple times, I checked the letter—and couldn't help but chuckle.
Deputy Censor-in-chief Han Un sends greetings to His Highness Gu Gangwang.
I'd just been thinking of Han Un-i, and here was his letter. Body can't come, so letter instead? What a bizarre coincidence.
'Now he's funny even in letters.' Han Un-i. What am I supposed to do when your very existence reaches comedic transcendence?