Hubei's Perpetual Gloom - 2: The Wudang-Je-gal Feud
The term "feud" between Wudangpa and the Je-gal family might sound quaint and petty, but when it slips from the mouth of a Yangyang Wangfu official, it means their relationship has already soured beyond repair. More like a full-blown clash or a state of near-war readiness. 'This is driving me insane.' My head throbbed.
Hubei's premier murim powers—Wudangpa and the Je-gal sega—colliding? It made the recent dust-up between Zhongnanpa and Huashanpa in Shaanxi seem like child's play by comparison. At least those two bickering is just Tuesday for them. Annoying as hell for the local bureaucrats, sure, but hardly a surprise.
Wudangpa and Je-gal sega weren't exactly bosom buddies, but calling them outright enemies felt like a stretch too. For two such factions to suddenly butt heads? From a Hubei official's perspective, that's a catastrophe.
'Both are heavyweights with massive clout and reputations.' I rubbed my stiffening nape, sorting through my thoughts. First off, Wudangpa's status and prestige put it in the running for the top spot among all current murim sects—no exaggeration. They'd been a pillar of the righteous factions even back in the untouchable murim days, threw themselves into the Dasong founding wars with countless merits, and their current sect leader is one of the Dae-song Shibi Daegosu, a Hwa-gyeong high master. Hell, his moniker Taegyeok Geomgong isn't some self-aggrandizing title they slapped on themselves like in the old murim. Emperor Taizu personally granted him a dukedom, hence the "gong." He's a heavyweight even the court has to treat with kid gloves.
'And the Je-gal sega? Hard to strong-arm them outright.' On top of that, the Je-gal family—who'd somehow tangled with Wudangpa—wasn't like the other non-combatant sects the court could just bully into submission. They led with intellect over brute force. While others swung swords, they fanned themselves with strategy fans; instead of martial arts, they mastered formations and mechanisms. This oddball approach even earned them murmurs in old murim circles: "Are those guys even murim??"
Still, riding the image of Zhuge Liang's descendants and filling a rare niche as "intellectuals" in a brawn-heavy murim world, they scraped by with a grudging acceptance as half-baked murim folk.
'Not just murim—common folk think the same, and that's the real issue.'
Yeah, the Je-gal sega were half-baked murim at best. Other non-combatants got pummeled like dogs by the court and lost the people's trust, but the Je-gals took only half the hit—being half-assed and all. Sure, right after Dasong's founding, hatred for non-participants peaked, forcing even the peaceful Je-gals from Shaanxi into Hubei. Murim affiliation is murim affiliation, after all.
But that was it. Unlike other sects hit with endless follow-up harassment post-relocation, the Je-gals got off scot-free. Because they were descendants of the people's beloved Zhuge Liang. Because folks saw them not as oath-breaking murim scum, but as local gentry.
'They still hold the people's hearts.'
True, the Je-gals stayed silent during the Mongol wars. But they emptied their coffers to distribute food and necessities to the masses, and aggressively blocked Mongol meddling in their backyard. They're practically the only non-combatant sect whose excuse of "We stayed quiet to protect the people!" actually lands.
Which makes this a nightmare. A clash between a founding merit sect with a ducal title from Taizu and a non-combatant powerhouse backed by popular sentiment. The court can't just pick a side.
'If it were any other sect, I wouldn't even hesitate.' Nah, no other faction would dare tangle with Wudangpa in the first place. Unless they had a death wish.
"...How the hell did those two end up fighting?" I gripped my fraying sanity and forced the words out. First things first—get the details, then figure out how to broach it with Yangyang Wang.
"It started with merchant caravans under their banners clashing over trade rights."
"Merchant caravans?"
"Yes. It began as a squabble between the traders, but it snowballed until Wudangpa and Je-gal sega stepped in personally."
Adults wading into a kids' fight. I sighed involuntarily. But I couldn't blame them. If your kid's getting beat up outside, of course you step in. Especially if that kid's the breadwinner keeping you fed.
"And the most decisive trigger was..." Jeong Da-yu glanced around warily, then whispered, "rumors that Je-gal sega sank one of Wudangpa's ships."
"What?"
No fucking way. That's bullshit.
Under Jeong Da-yu's guidance, I headed to Yangyang Wangfu.
"The Jwa-cheom Do-eosa has arrived."
"Paying respects to Your Highness, Yangyang Wang."
Yangyang Wang, face etched with irritation as he scanned a scroll, waved me in dismissively.
"How have you been faring?"
"It might sound snide, but regrettably, not well at all."
I bowed deeper at his reply. Anyone could see he was far from fine—it was just courtesy. You don't greet a king without asking after his health.
"Sit."
"Yes, Your Highness."
I carefully pulled out a chair at his invitation.
"What have you heard so far?"
"Up to the rumors that Je-gal sega sank a Wudangpa vessel."
"They told you just enough."
Yangyang Wang exhaled roughly and practically slammed the scroll onto his desk. Pitiful. Every gesture, every word dripped with frustration and exhaustion—like an office worker jolted awake by a midnight crisis.
'Yangyang Wang's no desk jockey.' Even more tragic: among the Ija Wangs, he was the purest martial soul by a mile. Kings serve as totems, anchoring regions to deter strife and maintain order. Just having a top founding merit holder and Hwa-gyeong high master like him around crushes parakho morale.
But if disputes erupt and peace cracks anyway? The totem becomes an administrator. He has to coordinate with his wangfu staff and local officials to manage the region. And while Yangyang Wang boasted peerless martial prowess among the kings, his administrative chops were... lacking.
'Inherited his ancestor's battle genes, but not the brains.'
Yangyang Wang Maeng An. Unlike other Ija Wangs who shone in actual history, the one true talent who never got his shot. Descendant of Southern Song legend Meng Gong, a monster of raw power matching his lineage. But all-in on force meant admin was his blind spot. Still, he tries... tries hard, anyway. Without much to show for it.
'Poor guy.' I'm no stranger to pity while touring the realm, but those dark circles under his eyes tugged at me. Blame Taizu. He knew this war-obsessed meathead best, yet dumped crisis administration on him. And Yangyang Wang, feeling eternally indebted to Taizu, grits his teeth through the mismatch.
Of course, sidelining him would've sparked "discrimination" cries.
"Why stare like that?"
"Your Highness's majesty blankets all Hubei, so I can't help but pity and resent those daring to disturb your peace, stealing glances at your expression."
I bowed quickly; another heavy sigh escaped him.
"Majesty? I fail to repay Taizu's grace, and this mess ensues—how can that be majesty?"
"Speak not so, Your Highness. You racked up countless feats when Taizu first raised his banners, and for decades since the realm stabilized, you've guarded Hubei and Hunan in peace. How can you blame yourself for one minor incident after all these years?"
I offered what comfort I could. Hubei's a tangled hellscape of factions, but minus the bureaucrats' insane workload, it maintains a delicate balance and calm. Without Yangyang Wang's straightforward totem presence, clashes would've numbered in the dozens or hundreds.
He's blameless. If anyone's at fault, it's Wudangpa and Je-gal sega for stirring shit in his backyard.
"Sweet words."
Thankfully, a hint of amusement crept into his response—my pep talk landed.
"Jwa-cheom Do-eosa."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"This isn't karma catching up to Wudangpa or Je-gal sega."
I drew a blank at the cryptic remark. If not them, whose fault is it? A founding merit sect and major sega openly colliding?
"True, they're at odds. Wudangpa's amassing funds to eclipse Shaolin as the premier sect; Je-gal sega's digging in roots across Hubei. Competition's natural—but..."
He slid the scroll across the desk toward me.
"We can't ignore a third party deliberately stoking the flames."
I unrolled it in haste. Not their karma, but a third party fanning the rivalry? Meaning a hidden hand sank that Wudangpa ship?
'Son of a bitch.'
News of clashes between Wudangpa and Je-gal sega is spreading uncannily fast, centered on Wuchang.
Traces of water arts found at the site of the sunken Wudangpa vessel. Strikingly similar to the techniques of the Changgang Su-ro Ship-pal Chae, eradicated during Gi Gangwang's Yangtze bandit purge.
Those goddamn water bandit bastards.
'You again?'
These parentless fuckers pop up just when I'd forgotten about them.