Chapter 128
Chapter 128
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 128
Chapter Title: The National Academy Scholar's Farewell
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To wage war, I needed the Great King's approval. After two victories elevated my fame, he grew even more overtly wary of me. The routine audiences ceased without a word, and my rank failed to advance.
My father, Yeon Gaesomun, was outraged, but I simply passed the time leisurely. I was still young, with plenty of time to spare. And so, a full year slipped by—637 came and went.
It was the first year since my possession with no major upheavals. Yang Man-chun returned briefly to Ansi Fortress, while my other subordinates tended to their duties. Ham-a, leading an expanded team of craftsmen, refined not only Goguryeo Fire but also the Yeon Clan Cannon. Eobiryu brought his family from the capital to Gulgungdo, where they improved the Hwagwi Line.
The most notable was Seon Do-hae. Using the Korean script and Arabic numerals I'd taught him, he established vast intelligence networks across Silla, Wa, and Tang. Leveraging merchants from the Maemul Merchant Guild, he gathered news swiftly from abroad and compiled domestic reports as well. He organized it all in the style of a Joseon-era gazette, bringing in so much intelligence that even Father Yeon Gaesomun was pleased. Word spread, and the son of the Northern Division Leader, Go Yeonsu, along with the son of the Southern Division Leader, Go Hyejin, requested their own copies.
Meanwhile, Hun-chung was growing like a weed, and Hun-seong had been born. Father Yeon Gaesomun wore a warm smile at the arrival of two grandsons. Baekje seemed cautiously mulling my proposal to attack Geompo County and Adam Fortress. We'd exchanged a few letters of review and well-wishes, nothing more. Yet Crown Prince Uija showed our friendship endured unchanged by sending gifts when my son was born.
In that time, I pored over the New Annals that National Academy Scholar Lee Mun-jin had given me, grasping the workings of Goguryeo's systems. The conclusion? We were headed for disaster if things continued as they were.
Our body's grown massive, but the bones can't keep up.
We weren't a fully centralized state, but administration, taxation, and defense still needed to function properly. Instead, semi-independent lords like the Division Leaders held sway everywhere, taxes were levied unfairly, and defense hid myriad flaws behind the glory of the Battle of Salsu. Learning these issues left me increasingly restless.
And now I need to start worrying about Tang too.
The real issue was how time melted away watching my young sons' antics. I was doing just that with my eldest, Hun-chung, who had begun toddling about. Urgency to act warred with slothful contentment to let things be. This held until early 638, amid a heavy snowfall, when I heard Go Jeong-ui's discreet cough outside the door.
"What is it?"
"Something urgent to report, my lord."
Go Jeong-ui, now a year older, had grown a beard and carried himself with real poise. The mischief had faded, giving him the air of a young strategist. I carefully handed Hun-chung to my wife, lifted the curtain, and stepped out. In the main room, he bowed, clad in his new blue robe with a black cap.
"Word from Jeongneung Temple."
"What news?"
As he lifted his head to reply, I saw tears streaming silently down his face. I knew at once what had happened.
"National Academy Scholar Lee Mun-jin is gravely ill?"
Go Jeong-ui's face crumpled as if he might burst into sobs.
"The message just arrived—they're urging you to come at once."
"We'll go together."
"I'll go alone. I came only to inform you."
"Can't have that. Tell Geom Mojam to prepare posthaste."
"Understood."
Go Jeong-ui departed, and I returned to my wife's room. Sensing the situation, she instructed her maids to pack formal attire.
"National Academy Scholar Lee Mun-jin is at death's door. I must go."
"It's snowing. Take a carriage instead of a horse."
"That'll work on the way back. But he's critical, so I'll ride there."
"Be careful."
My wife handed me a broad-brimmed leather hat to wear over the formal robes the maids brought, along with thick leather boots lined with fur. I stepped outside, where Geom Mojam awaited with a bow.
"Master. Horses and carriage are ready."
"I'll take the carriage coming back. No time— we'll ride."
"They're prepared at the gate."
As I followed Geom Mojam to the main gate, the snow fell harder. My escort retainers and Go Jeong-ui waited, faces dusted white. I descended the steps and mounted up. Geom Mojam shouted,
"Open the gate!"
The spearmen blew on their hands for warmth as they swung the doors wide. Geom Mojam led the charge out, and I followed, ringed by retainers.
The gate area had been shoveled by retainers and workers, but the main road remained blanketed. Even with horseshoes, slipping was a risk, so everyone reined in their pace. My heart raced ahead, but I had no choice but to match it. We passed through Chang'an Fortress, crossed the wooden bridge over the Paekgang River, and entered open fields. Scattered homes wore thick snowcaps on their roofs. Snow fell the entire way to Jeongneung Temple, a bone-chilling wind piercing through.
I miss hot packs.
Years into possession, I'd adapted reasonably well. I could endure without games or cola, but the cold never yielded. With no ondol heating and inadequate clothing, this winter was as brutal as any. After galloping across the fields for some time, Jeongneung Temple's eight-story wooden pagoda appeared in the distance. Its red tiles stood vivid against the blizzard. Geom Mojam, leading, gradually slowed.
"Hold a moment. I'll scout ahead."
He reined in at the temple gate and hurried inside. I glanced back at Go Jeong-ui, who trailed behind. Tears and snot from the ride had frozen on his face—a comical sight, but not one to mock. I swallowed a dismount.
Moments later, Geom Mojam emerged with Jeongneung Temple's new abbot. The monk wore loose orange pants dotted with patches, a white jacket, and a sleeveless vest. His bald head bore a black cap like Go Jeong-ui's.
"I am Pungjang, newly appointed abbot of Jeongneung Temple. Greetings to the eldest son of the Eastern Division Leader."
I returned his bow with clasped hands.
"I heard National Academy Scholar Lee Mun-jin is gravely ill."
"Yes. He lost consciousness suddenly yesterday. We summoned a physician, but there's no hope."
"At his age, I suppose."
Dry-swallowing against the tightness in my throat. I hadn't seen him often, but his mere existence had been a comfort. He was one of only two who knew I was a future soul possessing Yeon Namsaeng's body. The thought of losing him ached.
"Please, come inside."
We hurried into Jeongneung Temple behind Abbot Pungjang. Monks and workers swept snow from before the main hall.
"Where have you laid the Scholar?"
"The cold drove us to move him to a warm room in the monks' quarters. This way."
We followed to the quarters behind the main hall. Smoke curled from the chimney—fires lit in the side rooms. Abbot Pungjang opened the leftmost door and stepped aside.
"Here."
I murmured thanks and entered. Go Jeong-ui rushed past me.
"Master!"
A low table by the window was ringed with side heaters, National Academy Scholar Lee Mun-jin atop it. He lay under the thick quilt I'd sent last month, but his condition was plain—ghastly. His gaunt, twig-like face held no warmth. Go Jeong-ui bowed his head and wept.
"Master! It's me."
Go Jeong-ui sobbed with raw grief. Raised in his master's hands after losing his parents young, the man had been father and teacher both. At the sound, Lee Mun-jin struggled to open his eyes.
"What grieves you so?"
"How could it not, with you like this?"
As Go Jeong-ui wailed his reply, Lee Mun-jin gazed at the ceiling.
"All men are born to die someday. Don't grieve so. I've lived long—too long, even."
"Don't say that. Live long to see me rise high. You promised."
"Haven't you already? I've heard you speak often of your fine master—I remember clearly."
"It's not enough yet. So wait for me."
"Jeong-ui, you've been a special child. So young, yet you bore heavy burdens and came this far so well. That lets me depart in peace. Continue serving your master faithfully."
"Of course. So muster your strength. I'll fetch medicine."
"Too late—don't waste it. When I go, burn the useless things. Take the bamboo slips, wooden tablets, and books. No tomb—cremate me and scatter my ashes in the river."
"Master."
Go Jeong-ui's tears burst forth. Lee Mun-jin smiled faintly.
"Lost in books, I rarely traveled far. Now I long to journey the rivers. An old dream."
His bony hand slipped from under the quilt. Go Jeong-ui clasped it gently. They lingered so, until Lee Mun-jin coughed softly and turned to me.
"I'd speak with the Junior Central Administrator."
"Understood. I'll wait outside."
Go Jeong-ui wiped his tears and left. As the door shut, I approached the low table and knelt on one knee. Words failed me; thoughts scattered. In my silence, Lee Mun-jin spoke.
"What sort of man are you?"
"Yeon Namsaeng, eldest son of the Eastern Division Leader—Junior Central Administrator, Supreme Central Administrator, and former General."
"And before that?"
Five years post-possession, recalling my old self took effort.
"Yeon Taehwan, an aspiring writer of flop novels. Angry the world ignored me, I did nothing but complain. No friends, abandoned by family."
I bowed my head, adding weakly,
"Just a foolish youth."
"The Celestial Maiden of Gokdong Daehyeol said the one to possess wouldn't be ordinary."
"True. I lived a failed life."
"No such thing as failure in life. Only pauses to rest."
His consoling words brought tears surging.
"Perhaps possessing this historical figure is my new chance."
"One who reflects never fails. Past life and deeds don't matter. Only what lies ahead."
"I was simply afraid."
The fear had been real.