Chapter 131
Chapter 131
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 131
Chapter Title: As the Gods Desire (3)
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These people who arrived not with axes but with cold noodles hailed from remarkably diverse backgrounds.
Thugs from the Dog-Beating Stick Faction, debt collectors from the Three Harmony Hall, employees of the Chun-sik Ranch, Chun-sik delivery men, ferrymen from the Han River Chun-sik Fleet, and even local notables from Mokcheon, Jiksan, and Cheonan in Chungcheong Province—the high and low mingled without distinction, making it feel as if the Assembly of All the People had been born a century and a half early.
Se-hwa had gathered people in Wangsimni precisely for this moment. No matter what delivery Yi Geum ordered, the Dog-Beating Stick Faction, which dominated the markets of Hanyang, could control all distribution.
Yi Geum felt a chill like the broth of uneaten cold noodles.
It wasn't because of suspicions of treason. During his previous inspection tour, too, it was common for petitioners to gather in droves when he traveled abroad. There was plenty of space on the streets, and ample guards.
But something felt different. It didn't seem like the usual requests to retain a good magistrate.
Yi Geum hurriedly dispatched Censorate Scribe Kim Sunhaeng to find out what was going on.
Kim Sunhaeng, who had been planning to go anyway without the king's order, pretended to converse briefly with a plump young man standing at the front of the crowd before returning. The young man bore a striking resemblance to the grandson of the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Military Affairs.
"These are the common folk who heard that former Armory Bureau Commissioner Kim Unhaeng has been imprisoned on the slanders of traitors and have come to petition Your Majesty's mercy."
"We've received many memorials from Noron aristocrats, but what virtue has Kim Unhaeng bestowed upon the people?"
Kim Sunhaeng wielded his tongue with the seasoned eloquence that young Gangnam Academy students could only envy.
"To my knowledge, he released grain during famines to aid his neighbors and performed many acts of benevolence as magistrate. Not only did he distribute food, but he also created various enterprises where people could earn daily wages, so the people were diligent in their livelihoods without idleness, and many repay his grace."
Yi Geum couldn't accept it.
In this Joseon, no one fretted over the people's livelihood more than he did.
(Even if the people felt the same pain because it was extracted under other pretexts.) Who had decisively implemented the stagnant debates on tax reforms like the Uniform Land Tax that had dragged on for nearly two centuries?
(It arose because of him in the first place.) Who had neatly suppressed two rebellions, freeing the people from the horrors of war?
(It was mostly scripted theater.) What king showed such mercy as to visit the markets yearly, mingling face-to-face with lowly commoners and hearing their tales?
The people should naturally exalt only him.
It was that very confidence that allowed Yi Geum to fire the bold opening shot of absolute monarchy against the entire scholar-official class.
He was the king of the people, not the nobles.
But what if the people's hearts supported the nobles over him?
This wasn't a situation for prolonged deliberation. Yi Geum activated his self-defense mechanism and scolded Kim Sunhaeng.
"The Censorate Scribe must not invoke private loyalties under the guise of kinship. Such trivial commerce and day labor corrupt the people rather than edify them. The duty of scholar-officials is to civilize the lowly masses through moral instruction."
Of course, Kim Sunhaeng wasn't foolish enough to directly contradict the king here. He wielded his secretarial prowess once more.
"I am truly ashamed before Your Majesty's stern edict. Yet I speak not from party bias or favoritism toward kin; even heavyweights like Prince Yeongseong and Left Minister Jo Jae-ho have praised him."
This time, Yi Geum felt as if undevoured cold noodle strands were stuck in his throat.
Something was wrong.
Kim Unhaeng had clearly crushed the Soron faction and was accused of colluding with them.
Thus, by Yi Geum's calculations, Kim Unhaeng should harbor grudges against the Soron while drawing suspicion from the Noron.
And lacking the power to protect himself from the fallout, he should rely solely on Yi Geum, not the crown prince. The crown prince, witnessing Kim Unhaeng's utter ruin before his eyes, would clearly recognize whose servant he was.
With such certainty, the current outcome was utterly reversed.
Even the Soron defended Kim Unhaeng, as Kim Sunhaeng said, and the Noron seemed poised to form a united front across East, South, and North factions for his sake.
It was precisely that impartiality—the very reason Yi Geum had elevated Kim Unhaeng in the first place.
His judgment had been spot-on; the court had never been more united than now.
But this wasn't the impartiality Yi Geum had permitted.
He had never ordered such impartiality.
Just as he had never ordered such cold noodle delivery.
Only after a moment did Yi Geum manage to issue a command.
"Convey that I shall show leniency, so all disperse. And henceforth, ensure the Royal Guard does not leak words carelessly, lest the people presumptuously interfere in court cases."
The king's august command was duly executed. Park Jiwon, deployed as a precaution, performed his role admirably, leading away the crowd without any disappointed folk causing a disturbance.
Yet one bowl of cold noodles remained uneaten.
Yi Geum implemented the best course in this situation.
To belatedly disguise that he wasn't antagonizing the entire scholar-official class, he needed to ally with at least one faction.
Of course, Noron was the top choice, but with Kim Unhaeng half-dead and Yi Ik-bo two-thirds dead, it was difficult. Regret gnawed at the attacks on Noron thus far.
But openly allying with Soron carried its own great risks.
Thus, Yi Geum selected a Soron minister whom favoring wouldn't raise eyebrows.
"Appoint Prince Yeongseong Park Mun-su as Chief State Councillor."
On the surface, it was unproblematic. Park Mun-su had staunchly submitted tax resistance memorials against the rebel Hyungcham Party and crushed Hong Mo-jeok's bandits as commander of the Royal Guard Training Corps.
Yet Park Mun-su saw a major issue with it.
Park Mun-su didn't show up for work. Instead, he brewed ginseng porridge from the red ginseng Kim Unhaeng had offered, drank a bowl, and took up his brush.
In modern terms, it translated to:
"You once threw a tantrum saying I couldn't even match Yi Sun-sin?"
"Why don't you have them beat me half to death like Kim Unhaeng, see how you like it?"
"Punishing meritorious ministers and rewarding lesser ones—is senility making you obsess over obvious political games?"
All the court scholars were awestruck. Park Mun-su, the mad stallion, lived up to his name.
Yi Geum ground his teeth without venting anger, then regained his composure.
Here, he needed his specialty that had saved him in crises: the art of tolerating fools. Yi Geum first bluffed with a leisurely smile.
"Prince Yeongseong has been my reliance since youth, but now age has addled his mind. As we do not punish the mad, the Three Offices shall not impeach him."
The Three Offices, harboring no impeachment intent, simply stayed silent.
And the king decided to interpret their silence on Park Mun-su's rudeness as Noron respecting impartiality and himself. It seemed healthier for his sanity.
Yi Geum extended a hand to Noron in place of Park Mun-su, who had kicked away the Chief State Councillor position (which Kim Unhaeng would have desperately wanted).
But Noron weren't fools to accept. The dismissed ministers didn't emerge claiming relief from age's burdens.
To add insult to injury, Yi Ik-bo, lacking any skills, finally succumbed to the beatings and died.
The repercussions were massive. On the verge of Noron exploding, Yi Geum decided.
"Though Yi Ik-bo led troops to defeat, considering his court services, grant him a state funeral at public expense."
Choe Jin-hae had also been stripped of office, but Yi Geum clarified that Choe's accusation wasn't false and Yi Ik-bo remained a criminal. He merely emphasized the court custom of "deleting both sides in disputes without assigning blame."
Not out of concern for Yi Ik-bo's family and comrades, but because shifting blame to Choe Jin-hae risked him spilling everything recklessly. Fortunately, Choe didn't want to die either, so he couldn't claim the accusation was at the king's behest.
Thus, the fierce assault on Noron fizzled amid Yi Ik-bo's "loyal death."
Yi Geum's wounded pride couldn't heal without someone's blood.
The long-suppressed rage erupted at the predictable target.
"Exterminate Shin Chi-un's three clans, and subject the culprit to dismemberment. Display his head at the Iron Goods Bridge, sever his limbs separately, pickle them in sauce, and tour the eight provinces!"
Since he had caused this with one mouth, that mouth deserved stern punishment too. Shin Chi-un was dragged out with his lower jaw crushed by an iron flail and torn limb from limb.
Like Robespierre in similar straits, Shin Chi-un couldn't even leave a grand last word.
The three-clan extermination, usually riddled with exceptions to minimize deaths—like sparing monks, children, elders, or adoptees—was executed almost literally.
Yet there would be no mercy. Nearly all the capital's residents watching knew what seasoned crab was now.
Even among the massive crowd before the Benevolent Dispensary, few saw this as the king's victory.
Anyone with basic insight could see it was a flashy surrender.
If Shin Chi-un was a criminal, then loyal retainers were unmistakably exonerated.
The released Kim Unhaeng walked out of the Royal Guard on his own two feet, despite the reportedly brutal torture.
As many spectators gathered as for Shin Chi-un's execution.
Jangbok, who prided himself as Kim Unhaeng's closest aide, had prepared a palanquin for his master, who was too injured to walk easily.
But Kim Unhaeng, after glancing around at the crowd, sharply rebuked Jangbok instead.
"Are you trying to incriminate your master? How dare a lowly official overstep his station? As a servant of a scholarly house, have you not heard the verse, 'Empty your mind, and even the heart's fire cools'?"
"Compared to a broken spirit, bodily pain is as nothing!"
Jangbok, oddly as if awaiting this, prostrated flat. Then he replied in a voice as booming as his master's.
"Oh, forgive me. I failed to recognize that you have attained the realm where 'peaceful meditation needs no mountains or waters'!"
"If you understand, dismiss the palanquin at once."
"As you command."
All around were stunned that even a mere servant matched his master verse-for-verse with a poem by Du Xunhe of the Tang, showcasing the refined scholarly style of the Jangdong Kim clan.
The crown prince, hearing of this through a man he had secretly sent out of concern, felt deep shame at not knowing a verse even a slave knew. He resolved to study beyond Northern Learning.
By Joseon law, heretics outside Confucianism were utterly forbidden, especially within the capital.
But like any national law, loopholes hid in the fine print—exceptions rulers deemed unnecessary for the ruled.
Thus, Yeon-i's shaman hut on Inwangsan had expanded to temple scale and thrived openly.
Yeon-i, once meeting clients at the shrine, now had a separate reception room like the Hall of Cool Repose.
The woman—some official's wife (everyone knew her address and household but pretended ignorance out of courtesy)—confided in Yeon-i, seeking the shaman's key role: counsel for woes.
"Do you know the rumors swirling in the capital about Kim Chun-sik? Your husband's ties to the Jangdong Kim clan mean you must."
Officially, Yeon-i and Kim Unhaeng shared only that connection. Yeon-i nodded.
"You mean how he elevated scholarly loyalty?"
"That's part, but... rumors of the Jangdong Kim clan's secret arts, Chun-sik Armor and pills, training him since youth so his thighs and buttocks are iron-hard—canes shatter on flogging, ribs snap on bastinado."
Yeon-i didn't think to verify with Se-hwa.
Nor mock a client for outlandish tales. That wasn't salesmanship.
"Is your husband lacking vigor?"
"Precisely. Yesterday, he feigned leg weakness with a cane before his parents-in-law and got an earful. At this rate, he'll become an unfilial son."
Yeon-i voiced what the woman inwardly craved but couldn't say. That was a commoner's role.
"Of course, I know of Chun-sik Armor and the Kim Clan Great Return Pill. Why stop at thighs and buttocks? Surely his whole body is steely firm."
The wife's face brightened.
But she didn't sell Chun-sik Armor or pills here. Kim Unhaeng had no shaman ties.
So no profit for Yeon-i here.
Instead of directing her to Kim Jeok-haeng's pharmacy—"inheritor of the eldest son's vision"—Yeon-i subtly suggested:
"But restoring vigor with those might tempt him to take a concubine... Oh, forgive this lowly woman's loose tongue."
The wife sighed.
"You're right. But what can be done? Such is a woman's fate."
"Speaking of which, husband and wife don't always align. When he's eager, we may not be; when we are, he may not. But we can't take concubines."
The wife vigorously agreed with a scandalized face. As befitted a great house wife, her cultivated virtue shone.
Yeon-i smoothly proffered a suspicious box.
"You've heard of Dragon Bone Ink? This new variant has three whalebone strands for versatile transformations."
"Th-that expensive Dragon Bone?"
"No need to worry. Pay in installments: five yang monthly for a year, and it's yours now. Barely a sack of rice—hand it to the peddler each month."
No need to mention the peddler was Three Harmony Hall.
The conflicted wife took the disguised "rice cake bundle." Skipping Kim Jeok-haeng's meant less, but this high-value item would please Kim Unhaeng.
Proud of another sale, Yeon-i suddenly felt unease.
She instructed her attendants.
"The spirits are restless today. Send home all divination seekers."
"Yes, ma'am."
She wasn't preaching scarcity for value. It was true.
Her sensation mirrored when she abandoned her top shaman status in Mokcheon to follow Kim Unhaeng to Seoul: as if the pillar vanished, the roof crushing her.
Yeon-i suppressed her pounding heart and gazed east. She shuddered.
The capital's royal aura, which had withstood Slayer Kim Unhaeng's overwhelming presence, was faintly but unmistakably waning.
The screams of Seoul's mountain and river spirits echoed in her ears.
I seated myself properly the moment I entered home.
It didn't hurt, but it seemed more natural. Dismissing flogging and bastinado as trifles risked Yeongjo's perverse tendencies.
For instance, the cliché "beat half to death, then exile to the boonies before wounds heal"—a way to kill untouchables. Plus, Yeongjo had the turbo exile ultimate.
Learning my voice phishing ledger was now useless in my rescue process made me want to lie down sick for real.
No pain dulled the peripheral grudge from last flogging's ten strokes less, but the clarity made this massive loss sting deeper.
All because of this era-mismatched, anti-human-rights, anti-revolutionary tyrant bloated with arrogance and obstinacy.
We needed a nation where the people (me) are masters, pronto. Come to think, protagonists in my past life's webnovels regressing to Joseon all aimed for that.
After the Wangsimni Five Tiger Palace incident, I revived my democratic republican citizen soul for the first time in ages, accepting Se-hwa's fed rice gruel (my guts weren't scorched; just for atmosphere).
But Se-hwa misinterpreted my eyes burning with advanced civil rights zeal.
She said cautiously,
"Don't be too upset. A scholar with virtue needn't fret over wealth. Already, righteous folk have sent gifts to bolster your estate."
"Really?"
Many sent me things, but as transaction payoffs, not pure gifts—I was the gift-giver.
Yet Hong Daeyong's yesterday ramble—his ordeals for me, Gangnam Academy students' artistic collab elevating my fame in Joseon officialdom—seemed no bluff for cash.
Se-hwa whispered in my ear,
"And among them, five red inkstones you've desperately sought lately. I've noted the wise donors' names separately."
I crunched the spoon. Good thing Guan Yu's patience was on.
Author's Note
1. Not kin, but Kim Sunhaeng was dismissed around then (circa 1755) for cronyism in king's secretariat, meddling in state affairs via close aides.
2. Lingchi (death by a thousand cuts) in China peels flesh, but in Joseon often meant dismemberment. Annals lack explicit mention for Shin Chi-un, but later when Kim Ok-gyun was assassinated, ministers requested "per Yi Gwal and Shin Chi-un precedent," suggesting original history's Shin suffered dismemberment post-execution.