Since It's Come to This, Off to Shanxi - 4
Han Un and Jo Wi-cheo fell silent for a while. It was a tangled mess. With limited manpower and resources, they couldn't secure the area on their own. That's why they outsourced security to the more docile martial artists who actually listened. The intentions were pure, no doubt. But subcontracting to martial artists had been taboo since the founding of Daesong, a holdover from the days when officials and murim stayed strictly apart. This flew straight in the face of the higher-ups' directives.
Yet if they'd stuck to those directives, the county's peace would have been trampled by criminals calling themselves sapa. 'This is driving me insane.'
It was a classic dilemma—pick one path, and another problem inevitably cropped up. A sigh escaped him naturally. He knew full well that breaking the official-murim divide had lightened the government's load and spiked bureaucrats' workloads. He himself was proof, dashing across the country because of the workload explosion, getting an up-close look at frontline officials in the process. But his pains, even those of the rank-and-file, were mild compared to what lay beneath. There was a basement below the basement, a bottomless abyss darker than the depths.
'Can't just flip the table recklessly.'
Punishing them would be easy. They'd confessed to allying with martial artists, and he'd witnessed the private sanctions firsthand. As a Dochalwon inspector, he could launch probes on a whim, let alone with hard evidence. But what then? Shatter the divide and force officials to handle security alone? Back to square one for the county and its people, plunged into a security vacuum.
Follow principle, and the realm's foundation—the common folk—suffered. Protect the people, and you spat on the standards of governance.
"Strictly punish those parakho who extort merchants under the false banner of protection fees."
After the long silence, he issued what amounted to a hold on further action—target only the irredeemable ones colluding with Ji-hyeon, starting there.
"We'll discuss the rest later. Stay diligent in your duties until then."
"Yes, my lord. As you command."
Leaving Ji-hyeon bowing behind him, he rose from his seat. His wisdom and authority were far too meager to resolve the nation's contradictions. Strictly speaking, Ji-hyeon hadn't even broken the law. The founding merits and high officials had banned the old official-murim customs, true—but those customs were never codified into law to begin with. They'd simply halted a longstanding practice, no legal rewrite needed. Thus, Ji-hyeon wasn't a criminal. Nowhere in Daesong's statutes did it say, "Officials shall not cooperate with murim to share duties"—or anything open to that interpretation.
'That's what makes it worse.'
If it were outright lawbreaking, he could punish accordingly and call it done. "Punished, case closed." But Ji-hyeon had defied not law, but the will of the leadership and the common sense of the era. That hit harder than any statute violation.
'It'll stick like a stigma for life.'
No formal punishment possible without a legal breach. Ji-hyeon's karma would linger forever, the label "the guy who defied the higher-ups' will" dogging his career. Promotions blocked, even his current post in jeopardy. A headache. How to fix this? No matter how he racked his brain, only sighs came.
"Wi-cheo."
"Yes, my lord."
"People first, or order first?"
Jo Wi-cheo had no answer. He hadn't expected one, but the bitterness deepened. Two inspectors roaming for the realm's peace, heads together, still couldn't produce a clear fix.
'Just don't let it blow up.'
A twisted resentment toward Ji-hyeon bubbled up. Why did this have to erupt right when he showed up? Ignorance is bliss—he could've just kept on truckin'. Plan was to skim Shanxi lightly and bolt to Seomseo. Focus there on mediating between Zhongnan and Huashan. But he'd burn energy before even setting foot in Seomseo. Unfair enough to cry over.
"Wi-cheo."
"Speak, my lord."
"Looks like we're stuck here awhile. Grab us an inn."
A county inn wouldn't be top-shelf, but as long as it had beds and food, it sufficed for crashing. 'Gotta catch some shut-eye.'
Snag a room, sleep it off—head would clear a bit, right?
—Or so he thought, until merchants burst into the inn he'd claimed as lodging.
"My lord! Magistrate Ji-hyeon has done nothing wrong!"
'What the hell.'
His hand froze mid-sip. He'd sought alcohol's haze to ease the sober dread, but the surprise intrusion snapped him alert instead. No shock that civilians knew his spot—he hadn't hidden, parading openly, dozens must've seen him enter.
'Word's already out?'
The issue: these merchants knew about his clash with Ji-hyeon. Otherwise, why barge in screaming the man's innocence? Gossip must've spread from the government office. And on closer look, it wasn't just merchants—clothes and scents varied wildly, all walks of life swarming in.
"Barging in like this—what's the commotion? Scatter!"
Stunned silent, he watched Jo Wi-cheo step forward to calm the crowd.
"Please, my lord! Hear us out—there's a misunderstanding!"
"If Magistrate Ji-hyeon sinned, it's only in heeding beggars like us!"
Predictably, no calming—just louder chaos. These folk, bold enough to storm the office that cowed even Ji-hyeon, eyes wild. Not out to skewer him with pitchforks or sickles, but the desperation was close.
'No sin, huh.'
Jo Wi-cheo flummoxed before unarmed masses he couldn't rough up; the people pleading before an obvious peak-realm master. He gave a wry smile. Commoners seeking a higher official to defend a lower one? That said volumes about Ji-hyeon's rule. To this county's folk, bureaucrats weren't terror but respect. A tyrant Ji-hyeon would've kept them too scared to approach anyone higher—seventh-grade was fearsome; fourth-grade? Forget it.
"Quiet."
He downed the last of his drink, rapped the table twice to draw eyes.
"One rep. Can't make heads or tails with everyone yapping."
"My lord."
"It's fine. Hearing the people's voice is a bureaucrat's duty, no?"
Jo Wi-cheo nodded silently, positioning behind him—ready to guard if things turned.
- Kki-ing?
- Kki-ong.
"Nah, nothing. Rest up."
He waved off Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i, who'd poked heads in from outside, munching fodder. Noisy enough to draw even them, huh.
"Th-this humble one has been chosen to represent us and humbly petition you, my lord."
Soon, after huddling whispers, they pushed a rep forward.
"Speak freely. What's this about?"
The man's face screamed tension—pity-inducing—so he slid over his cup. That wired, he'd botch his plea. Too cruel an end for folk who'd mustered courage to come.
'Might as well hear the people's side.'
He wanted no such failure. He'd grasped the bureaucrats' view; now for the grassroots life.
Prime chance to gauge the scene.
The rep's tale matched Ji-hyeon's but rawer, sharper.
"Those sapa scum show up constantly, demanding protection fees! Threatening no one, yet 'protection'? Who's really wrecking business!"
"Reporting to the office does zip... By the time soldiers arrive, the sapa have bolted. No manpower to chase 'em down or station guards at markets..."
"Even suppression's temporary. In backwaters like this, trash flocks in—one goes, another pops up."
Soon others chimed in, but he let it slide. Gleaned diverse intel and gripes that way. Or rather, no energy to hush 'em.
'Total clusterfuck.'
Made sense on reflection. Even tourist magnet Dongting Lake crawled with water bandits. A "bu" two levels up struggled with manpower splits, delaying crackdowns. Unlike Hubei or Hunan with volunteer sects like Hengshan or Wudang, Shanxi lacked anchors. Hence this mess. County and folk, hounded by sapa pests, lit a jeongpa counterfire.
"We suggested using jeongpa to check sapa! We dupes lured Ji-hyeon for quick peace—blame us if anyone's guilty!"
"No one's strived for us like Ji-hyeon! Mercy for him, please!"
No laughs left for the prostrating masses—not even the innkeeper, who'd joined the pile. 'Damn it.'
Murim got crushed for ignoring the realm's peace. Official-murim divide ignored for neglecting folk's calm. But here, murim allied with officials for the people.
'The Central Plains are a tangled web...'
He just wanted to bolt.