Chapter 18: A Land Where the Weak Cannot Survive (1)
Chapter 18: A Land Where the Weak Cannot Survive (1)
There is a saying: "People are the same wherever you go." I personally despise that phrase.
Even a slight shift in culture can mean the difference between honor killings being legal in one place and plea bargaining being legal in another. In some places, simply thinking about tanks and a certain square can make you "disappear." If there is a five-hundred-year gap in eras, things cannot possibly be the same.
As Tolstoy famously said that every tragedy has its own face, every form of barbarism has its own shape.
However, if I had to pick one timeless tragedy that pierces through five hundred years of history—it would be school violence.
Splaaaaash!
Along with the sound of hot soup pouring, a piece of meat slapped against my cheek.
I had been reading while absentmindedly eating the meal provided by the academy, so the soup soaked into my precious collection of Confucius's quotes (The Doctrine of the Mean), leaving a nasty stain.
"……?"
I couldn't process the situation immediately.
If someone suddenly dumped soup over your head while you were eating, anyone would struggle to grasp what was happening.
Similarly, the kid sitting right behind me, who was currently enjoying a hot shower of broth, didn't seem to have adjusted to the situation either. Since I was sitting in front of him, I ended up covered in food scraps as well.
As I slowly began to turn around, I heard snickering.
"Ah, sorry! Really sorry! How did my hand just slip like that?"
"Gwahahaha! Man, look at that smell. Well, some tasty bits fell, so just pick them up and eat!"
"Hahaha!"
Oh.
I marveled briefly at the sight.
A textbook scene of bullying was unfolding before my eyes.
A student in a tattered academic robe sat with his head bowed low, soup dripping from his hair. It was a shame glasses didn't exist in this era, but the image was close enough. The student was desperately trying to wipe away the soup while forcing a pained smile.
These aspiring students of a pre-modern magic school dormitory (the kind that likes snakes) were bullying a medieval Chinese Neville Longbottom.
I stood up slowly and carefully picked up my scripture.
Due to the binding technology of this era, a copy of The Doctrine of the Mean was practically a dictionary. In terms of weight, thickness, and striking power.
WHAM!!
The scripture slammed into the crown of the head of the boy snickering at the front.
His eyes rolled back the moment of impact, and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
"You profane brat!!"
"What…?!"
"You. You. What do you think you're— How, how dare you!"
"How dare I?"
I grabbed one of the trembling boys and shook him violently. These frail scholars were no match for the strength of a child from the Peng Family.
"I'm the one who should be saying 'how dare you,' you little shit."
"Why, why all of a sudden…?"
"It splashed on my clothes too!!"
I had no intention of starting a public service campaign like "Stop School Violence!"
This was medieval China, a place rife with schemes and treachery—a land where the weak could not survive.
One look at the student who took the soup shower told me he was likely the son of a commoner who had barely managed to enroll in the Yeon-gyeong Academy, hoping for social advancement. In this era, the class system is obvious even without an ID tag. Even if a kid like that was lucky enough to pass the local exams, or even if he broke through the civil service exams entirely, he wouldn't survive the cold reality of officialdom. He lacked the background.
So, I had a good idea of what was going on.
When you gather pre-adolescent children in a place where everyone else is at least from a noble family, this kind of bullying is bound to happen.
But what did that have to do with me?
That wasn't a valid reason for my precious scripture and my precious academic robe to be dyed by Chinese soup that reeked of star anise.
"I-I'll apologize! I'm sorry, so let go! I'll pay for the clothes! The Doctrine of the Mean! I'll buy you a new one!!"
"Do you dare try to buy me with money?!"
As I slammed him onto the floor, a coin pouch tumbled out of his robes.
When I nudged the heavy pouch, the highly reliable glint of silver sparkled. It seemed his family was well-off enough to give him silver coins. It was roughly equivalent to an elementary schooler carrying around a stack of fifty-dollar bills.
I quietly pulled him up, dusted off his clothes, and spoke.
"…Is what I would say, if there wasn't so much money here. I'll take this as emotional damages."
"All… all of it…?"
"Are you planning to insult me further?"
"I meant for you to take it all! I'm sorry!!"
The boy scrambled away, dragging his unconscious friend with him.
Watching their retreating figures while fiddling with the pouch made my heart feel warm. They say blessings follow the righteous deeds of a gentleman even if he doesn't seek them; Confucius truly never said a wrong word.
"U-Um…"
"Gah, shit! You scared me."
A quiet voice came from right behind my back, completely devoid of presence. It was a level of "outsider energy" so high it had even bypassed my senses. I hadn't even noticed him getting behind me.
"S-Sorry…!"
"Ugh, make some noise when you walk around."
"T-That is…"
"Fine. Fine. I get it."
I sighed as I read the clear spark of greed in his eyes. Well, if anyone was the subject of a claim for damages, it was him rather than me.
In accordance with the virtues of a modern Korean known for fair trade, I turned the pouch over and split it 9-to-1.
"W-What are you doing…?"
"Ah-ah, don't get greedy. Just take this."
"Uh… huh?"
I pressed ten percent of the pouch's contents into his hand and pocketed the rest. My clothes were more expensive, so this was a fair transaction. Mine was made of Shu brocade.
The boy stammered for a moment before bowing his head and whispering, "Thank you," as he left. His voice was so quiet it was barely audible.
"Ah, his name."
"That child is Seong Won-ho. He is the eldest son of the Manhong Merchant Guild's leader. I heard they've amassed quite a fortune."
The member of the Imperial Family approached with sparkling eyes and a wide grin.
"Indeed, a virtuous gentleman shares his blessings with the people ('If the King shares his joy with the people, then he is a true King.' – Mencius: Liang Hui Wang II). Your actions reflect that perfectly."
"Wasn't that a quote about a ruler, not a gentleman?"
"Then that could be interpreted as saying the current ruler is not a gentleman. I'm afraid I might be accused of treason for this."
You're the one who scares me.
I thought to myself as I quickly moved away from Cheon U-rin.
This was medieval China, a place rife with schemes and treachery.
To put it more simply:
10. A Land Where the Weak Cannot Survive.
"Will you be exploring the market streets again this evening?"
"No, I'm getting a bit bored of Beijing. Ah, maybe I'll go play in Nanjing next summer."
"Nanjing is good too. It's better in winter than summer, but I could lend you one of my villas."
"Hmm, maybe I'll go see Wuchang…"
"A member of the Hebei Peng Family going where the Martial Alliance is located?"
"Just thinking about it is thrilling. I should go plan my trip. Thanks! See you later!"
"Wait, wait!!"
I escaped from the leech-like grip of Cheon U-rin and returned to my quarters.
I don't know what he wants from me, but for now, I want nothing from him. No, wait. I do want something. I want us to have nothing to do with each other. To be complete and perfect strangers.
Getting involved with an Imperial brat who keeps subtly hinting at treason? Ugh, just the thought gives me the creeps.
"Young Master? You're back early today."
"I skipped a meal. Where's Peng Jeon-gun?"
"Calling an elder by his name. Where are your manners?"
"Please make some noise when you're around. It's bad for my heart."
Peng Jeon-gun laughed heartily as he dropped down from the roof.
I smirked and gestured. The gauntlets Peng Jeon-gun threw at me snapped onto my hands perfectly.
"Let's practice some fist techniques."
"It seems your Heart-Protecting Fist is finally reaching maturity."
"Are you going to teach me another martial art?"
"That can only happen once you complete the Hegemonic Blade Rite (Paedo-sik). If you want that, it would be better to master the Hunyuan Saber first."
"You know what people would say if I started swinging a saber around the academy."
The Hegemonic Blade Rite was a coming-of-age ceremony for the direct lineage of the Hebei Peng Family. It was an event where one demonstrated the family's basic arts—Hunyuan Art, Heart-Protecting Fist, and Hunyuan Saber—before the elders to be officially recognized as ready to carry a saber.
The Hegemonic Blade Rite. At first glance, it sounds like a term for a socially condemned perversion, but it's a ceremony with a literal meaning. It celebrates reaching the stage where one is worthy of wearing (pae) a blade (do).
Usually, the direct lineage undergoes the rite around age fifteen. I was aiming for twelve.
Since I was a reincarnator (27 years + 10 years), I couldn't afford to struggle with getting the equivalent of an early high school diploma within two years.
"Well, it's good to see you haven't neglected your training even away from home. Shall we begin?"
Peng Jeon-gun laughed cheerfully and suddenly threw a punch. Naturally, it carried the speed and power that I was just barely able to parry.
WHAM!!
By now, the sound of our fists colliding at this level of exchange was producing a wind-splitting roar that could hardly be called a mere punch.
Two years.
Pass the local exams next March, return to the family, and enter closed-door cultivation for exactly one year. Then, the spring of the year after next.
I would pass the Hegemonic Blade Rite and be recognized as a true member of the family.
BOOM!!
One move at a time, I would steadily reach for my grandfather's position.
One step at a time, without rushing, but at a pace that was by no means slow.
As I was cooling down my aching body after training, Nang-rang approached me.
"Oh, by the way, Young Master. Have you heard the news about Lady Hwa-yeong?"
"Where else would I hear about her if not from you?"
"To be precise, it's not exactly news about Lady Hwa-yeong, but rather news from the Demonic Cult. Lately, the Hao Clan in Beijing has been strangely proactive in bringing us information… anyway."
Nang-rang continued as she handed me a cold towel.
"They say one of the Young Lords of the Demonic Cult has died."
"Eh…?"
"I heard he was thirteen this year, so he was the same age as the Third Young Master! Regardless, he was one of Lady Hwa-yeong's older brothers… they say he died suddenly. Apparently, the Heavenly Mountains are in an uproar right now."
"Hwa-yeong's letters didn't mention anything like that."
The letters she sent every month always said things like, "Today is a very good day. The weather was nice. The food is delicious. My family has been treating me well lately."
So I thought she was doing just fine.
"Considering the time it takes for the Lady's letters to arrive here, she might not have written it yet. There might be something in the next letter."
"I wonder how much I should send for the funeral gift…"
More than that, I hoped she wasn't too heartbroken. No matter how high the infant mortality rate was in this world, losing a family member at that age was never something one could get used to. Especially since she was soft-hearted on the inside, despite her fierce appearance.
"Tsk, I'll have to reply to the next letter."
*
Even in the letter that arrived a month after that news, there was no mention of her brother's death.
There were only stories about the peaceful Heavenly Mountains as usual and how her training was progressing well.
"Y-You… You bitch… Why…!"
"What is it you want to ask? Why I can manipulate Demonic Energy? Or…"
Im Hwa-yeong smiled brightly and opened her hand. Pitch-black electricity crackled and danced across her fingers.
As the young boy stumbled back in horror, Im Hwa-yeong's fingers lightly gripped the back of his neck.
"Why I am killing you?"
"Guh… ack…!!"
"Don't misunderstand. Even though you treated me like vermin, Brother, I didn't have any particular ill will toward you."
From the moment she began to overcome the Demonic Energy, her talent had begun to bloom brilliantly, as if making up for everything she had lacked until now.
However, perhaps as a reaction to that, or perhaps as a side effect of being consumed by Demonic Energy at such a young age…
The world appeared in black and white to her. Her emotions, her senses, everything.
In a world stained in black and white, the only place that remained colored was Beijing. That land alone remained as beautiful as a purple iris, blooming in her heart.
She felt no ill will toward her family. Even if they had looked down on her for being a Demonic Person.
And by that same token, she felt no attachment to her family either.
Therefore, this was an act born purely out of necessity.
"S-Sor…ry…!"
"Sorry, but it would be bad if I stopped here."
Crack.
After a brief sensation, the boy's eyes rolled back into his head.
Im Hwa-yeong shook her hand, letting her brother's body drop to the floor, and turned around with a smile.
"The Heavenly Demon."
In the Sixth Heaven Esoteric Buddhism, the authority of the Heavenly Demon was no different from that of a god. It was a sect that worshipped the Heavenly Son Demon Papiyas as an idol. Here, the Heavenly Son was synonymous with a living god.
Therefore, becoming the Heavenly Demon meant more than just becoming the strongest person in the Heavenly Mountains. It meant reaching a position "Below One Person, Above Ten Thousand"—a place where one could literally achieve anything they desired.
If she could achieve everything she wished…
Then she could even restore the marriage alliance.
"Wait for me. Hui."
Im Hwa-yeong smiled brightly as she gazed at the eastern sky, where far-off Beijing lay.