Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Cleanly, Clearly, Confidently (1)
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Just then, Jangbok, roused from sleep by the commotion, crawled out sleepily and froze in shock.
Good. Give him a beating.
"S-sire! What in the world is going on? Did these ruffians commit some rudeness?"
Not a bad tone. Alright, here we go.
I deliberately didn't even glance at Jangbok as I opened my mouth.
"Precious objects from heaven and earth come in many forms—sometimes from the death of man or beast, sometimes from the convergence of the energies of heaven and earth. Among them, those that are malevolent and harmful are called ghosts (gui), while those that are spiritual and pure are called spirits (sin)."
Yeoni listened with her head bowed in silence. I continued the recitation.
"Thus, we drive away ghosts and welcome spirits. Needless to say, the ancestral spirits that descend during ancestral rites are spirits as well, for all ancestors wish to aid their descendants' prosperity."
"The spirits descend with care, bestowing upon you abundant blessings. Your lineage shall not end." That was from the Book of Songs.
Confucius did not speak of strangeness, feats of strength, disorder, or divinities, as recorded in the Analects.
But that wasn't because Confucius denied supernatural phenomena. If he were a perfect rational atheist, what would become of sacrifices, the purification rite of Confucian ritual?
There was no knowledge in ancient times sufficient to deny supernatural phenomena. Therefore, it shouldn't be understood from the perspective of modern rationalism.
Confucius didn't deny them; he simply had no interest in them. That's why it's "did not speak of" rather than "denied."
Mystery, superhuman strength, chaos, occult.
Such "unusual" and "irreproducible" cases simply didn't fit the universal world that Confucius, as a practical politician, dealt with. Was he supposed to factor in the blessings of mountain spirits and river lords when planning annual farming and taxes?
Conversely, Confucius spoke plenty of fantasies applicable to politics. Sacrifices are a prime example.
In short, this is a misunderstanding born from equating the category of "strangeness, feats of strength, disorder, divinities" with modern supernatural phenomena.
In premodern times, there were two kinds: good fantasy and bad fantasy. The former was accepted.
Thus, rather than a simplistic rebuke like "Ghosts? What nonsense! You shamans are all frauds!", I built my argument on common ground shared by us Joseon folk.
"But what are the spirits that you shamans and spirit mediators serve? Fairies dwelling in stones and trees, goblins haunting bloodstained brooms, vengeful ghosts of those drowned or beheaded for violating the law—you gather such things, threaten harm unless offerings are made, and demand tribute, do you not?"
"Can these truly be called spirits? Would you dare call that pig's head a sacred offering?"
Yeoni didn't back down.
"From ancient times, practices passed down and believed by many have reasons, even if they seem unreasonable. King Hwanung hatched from an egg, King Suro had scales under his armpit, and even our Founder subdued the dragon in the Red Pool. Judging by such miracles shown by sun, moon, stars, and heavenly spirits in overseeing the Mandate of Heaven, what say you to that?"
Hard to believe this was the same woman throwing a fit over a pig's head just moments ago. She was remarkably well-read.
Well, it probably wasn't about the money.
Once you lose face, you're done—for all gangsters. And in this era, local powers were gangsters.
Even so, talking back to me like this? She was no ordinary shaman. Her eloquence was one thing, but her guts were extraordinary.
But this is Joseon, so you can't beat me.
I raised my voice.
"I have already distinguished the omens revealed by heaven from vile demons, yet you dare equate the Great King Taejo with your petty ilk and insult the sovereign!"
No matter how bold the shaman, this would trigger a reflexive halt.
Seizing the moment, I snapped my fan shut and pointed it at Yeoni like a spear. This was the punchline I'd prepared.
"If doctors, shamans, or hereditary spirit mediators falsely claim miracles, perform rites, or make people drink talisman water to extort gain, the ringleader shall be strangled, and the followers exiled to a distance of one hundred ri!"
"You know the severity of this national law, yet you insolently babble about what the magistrate is worth or how rituals demand this and that, culminating in your impudent words. I can guess your full intent!"
Is Confucianism a religion or a school of thought? Even today, it's debated.
But like concepts forcibly divided by modern standards, it's a mix of both.
Confucianism didn't tolerate heresies either. Not just shamanism, but Buddhist lantern festivals, private animistic rites at home, and idol worship were all strictly forbidden by law.
And this article from the Great Ming Code wasn't just for verbal sparring.
It targeted not only Yeoni but also the guards waiting outside... no, her thugs.
Joseon folk who live for the moment can't be taken lightly. With night fallen and no witnesses, they might bury the magistrate and play dumb.
So I shouted loudly to boost my momentum.
But I might have overdone it.
At "strangulation" and "one hundred ri," the men outside rushed in.
Three of them carried torches—four or five in total. Their fierce faces gleamed menacingly in the firelight, indistinguishable from dog bones in the dark.
She hadn't brought them in during her tantrum... probably because lowly folk parading thugs could backfire later with the authorities.
Jangbok's face paled visibly even in the night. His wails calling for Eoji echoed.
But they seemed to guess my status too, refraining from crude curses.
A bit uneasy, they only looked to their leader, Yeoni.
A trained group.
But what do humans amount to, even trained?
I'm not suddenly some superior combat species.
Someone similar had finally emerged from the room.
Eoji, yawning with a bewildered look, asked me,
"Sh-should I b-beat them all?"
"No, just stand by my side."
That was enough. Even their superior numbers flinched under his presence.
And Jangbok, suddenly regaining his spirit, raised his arm beside me.
"How dare you threaten the magistrate!"
Go stand over there. You're embarrassing yourself.
Come to think of it, what guts did this guy have to kick her when they first met?
I quickly turned to Yeoni.
She was already standing, startled. Understandable upon seeing Eoji.
Now we finally saw each other's faces. As expected, she was about my age... and not bad-looking. Not that I cared.
I looked at her face not for her beauty.
But to see her expression turn to fear. No one in a hostile setting sees Eoji and keeps a straight face.
Wait, that sounds weird. I'm not some pervert enjoying a young woman's fear and despair.
It's about timing—if she panics, that's when I step in and rip her a new one.
But fear barely registered on Yeoni's face.
She glanced curiously at Eoji, then fixed her gaze on me.
Then bowed her head again.
It was too natural and brief to pick a fight over eye contact with a yangban (Jangbok hadn't even noticed).
Yeoni shouted with dignity.
"How rude to stand tall and gawk before the magistrate! This is the new Lord Inspector. All of you, kneel and pay respects!"
The men dropped to their knees at once. Probably what they'd hoped for.
Yeoni, still kneeling, said calmly,
"As you may have heard, I am Yeoni, a lowly shaman dwelling in a small shrine in the valley of Mt. Chwiam in Mokcheon Township. I belatedly greet the Lord Inspector. I spoke out of turn due to my ignorance of etiquette, so please forgive this unlearned woman generously."
A local from our neck of the woods.
Not quite Mt. Gyeryong, but Mt. Chwiam was a sacred mountain designated for national rain-making rituals.
Not just anyone could build a shrine there. My eyes hadn't deceived me.
Anyway, if she yielded first, I should show magnanimity.
Everyone in the township would know about today by tomorrow. I hadn't forgotten my goal.
"Though I scolded you harshly over a petty dispute of a few coins, your words held merit. The innkeeper will pay for the pig's head, but as a poor scholar, I have nothing to give—so I'll inscribe this fan for you to sell and cover the extra cost."
It wasn't a cheap substitute for cash.
Fans were surprisingly valuable in Joseon.
Envoys took them abroad as currency substitutes, since cash export limits existed.
With elegant calligraphy, their value could multiply dozens of times depending on the writer.
As my skill activated, Yeoni gratefully accepted the fan.
Evidently, being literate, she recognized its worth.
"I have no bales of cloth to offer in my haste. But now that we have a newly enlightened Lord Inspector as magistrate, how could I not show my sincerity? I'll prepare something promptly upon return."
"Living in the mountains, traversing valleys, and drinking stream water must be hardship enough—don't bother with cumbersome gifts. If you serve the spirits of great sacred mountains and rivers well to ensure bountiful harvests, that alone would be admirable."
"Indeed, I see the consistent integrity of a magistrate who urges farming upon the people."
Alliance forged.
Yeoni's faction was now recognized by the magistrate, and I was the upright Lord Inspector endorsed by the township's most potent shaman.
We'd have plenty of ways to help each other.
But she wasn't the weakest of the Four Heavenly Kings, was she?
In Kim Unhaeng's mind, there was some misunderstanding and exaggeration.
It was true that shamans and monks held surprising sway in townships, but rarely enough to threaten the magistrate—unless backed by central high officials.
Religion influences life, but life influences religion too. Even East Asian shamanism couldn't escape the ancient bureaucratic system's imprint.
Traces of the state system abound: Why does the Jade Emperor have Left and Right Assistants? Why do grim reapers work like civil servants?
Shamanic spells like "Act with utmost urgency as per the statutes" eloquently reveal this.
"Implement promptly in accordance with relevant laws and decrees."
In modern terms: "Please take swift action per applicable regulations. End of notice." A standard bureaucratic template.
Officials and shamans are in the same line of work, in a sense.
They understand secular authority well—after all, they chase evil spirits with official notices.
But that's one thing; emotions are another.
Even true secular folk curse the dynasty behind its back. Joseon men did so even to their faces, bolstered by manly grit and scholarly pride.
Yeoni's underlings lacked that scholarly pride.
They hadn't liked the insolent young punk who barged in relying on youthful bravado, right in front of the magistrate they'd been wary of.
Now the magistrate was gone, so on the way back, they grumbled in hushed tones.
"That punk'll get divine punishment soon. Stealing offerings means he'll rot with impurity!"
"Yeah. Magistrates are all doomed. Defy the earth and mountain spirits, see what happens!"
"Every magistrate so far just oppressed us—what good did they do the people? It's all thanks to the spirits' grace!"
They all eyed Yeoni. One word of agreement, and their whispers would erupt into full outrage.
But Yeoni didn't oblige.
"Shut those insolent mouths of yours!"
"Great Divine Mother, even so..."
"You're still too green. Think I knelt just because he's the magistrate?"
"Th-then what's the story?"
Yeoni spoke as she walked slowly.
"Did you see that bodyguard?"
"Yeah. Looked like a goblin. Whew. Can't imagine how many folks he'll beat now that the master's got his back."
"Not that. Well, you wouldn't notice. Even the Lord Inspector, you couldn't see properly."
"He's the magistrate—how could we stare straight? We'd get flogged for nitpicking."
Yeoni laughed at their complaints.
"Truth be told, a mere pig's head wasn't worth my worldly ire. I've just been irritable since yesterday from my divine aura being greatly suppressed."
"Eh?"
"And now I know why. Those two... mighty spirits possess each of them, commanding even this land's ancient gods to kneel."
Shamanic exorcism relies on borrowing a greater spirit's power to subjugate lesser ghosts through authority. Thus, hierarchies among spirits are crucial.
"The bodyguard's general spirit was impressive, but the Lord Inspector's was too exalted to even gaze upon. That's why I couldn't discern it fully. No wonder he holds office so young."
Her underlings exchanged looks, as if wondering if they should hang the Lord Inspector's portrait in the shrine now.
Yeoni said,
"An unfathomable aura protects him. He'll leave in a year or two anyway, but until then, we can't oppose it. Remember that."
"Y-yes, ma'am."
If Kim Unhaeng heard (after chuckling, "Jangbok doesn't even have a Stand?"), he'd marvel at a true cult leader's eloquence—crafting a story that justified her actions without losing face.
But Yeoni's words carried the unshakable conviction unique to those who believe in themselves.
True or not, Kim Unhaeng's arrival in Mokcheon County proceeded swiftly, leaving just this minor commotion in its wake.
After Yeoni's group left, at dawn the next day, the welcoming procession from the Mokcheon County yamen arrived. Fast workers, these guys.
By the time I got up, some fifteen or sixteen were already eating breakfast there.
This place must be a Mokcheon hot spot. No wonder the pork was tasty.
I received their welcoming gifts of local specialties and the roster of officials.
Then, as custom dictated, I announced my name—for the pennant.
Leading the group was the administrative head, the iban, named Shin Manheung.
I accepted the various documents and ledgers he presented.
And upon seeing them, I was quite shocked.
Are these bastards insane?
But I'd deal with that later. Raging now would just make me look foolish.
Whether Yeoni was the weakest Heavenly King was unclear, but she seemed the sharpest of the bunch.
Gritting my teeth, I followed the Mokcheon escort—essentially the magistrate's adjutant.
After rites at the guesthouse and clan school, we entered the eastern hall, as seen in historical dramas.
Naturally, the highest under me—the six chambers, plus the township left and right supervisors—were present.
From messengers and military instructors down to the lowliest slaves, dozens lined up to greet the new magistrate in the hall.
Like a king.
The scale was modest, but its purpose mirrored a king's morning audience with ministers.
And so did the magistrate's responsibility.
He was the administrator delegated by the sovereign.
Even for a small county, the magistrate's authority was immense—beyond my expectations.
The office procedures were equally rigorous, reinforcing that solemnity.
Every morning—at dawn—a trumpet signaled the rite, and a pennant was posted outside the hall's red gate.
This opened the yamen. Official duties began.
While the pennant stood outside the red gate, no idlers could enter—not even the magistrate's private guests.
I strode confidently to the dais and took my seat.
Iban Shin Manheung presented seals and, most crucially, the military tallies. This had to be done in the hall.
From this moment, I formally held responsibility and authority over Mokcheon County.
Once the headcount finished, I ordered a large plain cloth brought.
A white sheet was draped before me. I took the thickest brush and wrote upon it.
Liem (廉), Cheong (淸), Sin (信).
Cleanly, clearly, confidently.
The clerks, who had smirked at my Seoul scholar airs, gaped at my "calligraphy." They knew good writing when they saw it.
I tossed the brush and held up the cloth.
"From now on, hang this flag always in the hall. Mokcheon's governance shall root in these three characters. From beginning to end, shine clear as water, trustworthy for all to see."
"Violating this insults me; insulting this office insults the court and His Majesty. No need for debate—it's high treason, and even death by flogging leaves no grudge."
As clichéd as a principal's address.
So the clerks could bow indifferently without emotion. I see you all, punks.
But this wasn't meaningless showmanship.
It was smokescreen; my real message was one: Cross me, and you die.
I took the handover document from the inn—the township ledger.
The township ledger was, in a word, the neighborhood master register.
Everything: population, land, armaments, yields, geography.
As a handover, it was standard for the first welcoming party—which met me at that Mokcheon eatery.
I'd skimmed it en route and nearly fallen off my horse.
Any goodwill vanished then.
Sloppy records?
No. Excessively thorough.
I'm just a history major—not implanted with a Joseon database nanomachine.
Even capital aristocrats rarely knew local realities beyond hearsay from outer province kin.
Yet now I knew nearly every crime, corruption, and scandal past or possible in this Mokcheon County.
Why?
Because it's written here.
For real. Believe me.
These bastards boldly wrote the embezzlement manual in the magistrate's handover ledger.
And gave it to me—meaning, "Join us in the feast."
Since I'd accepted it without a word till now, they assumed agreement. That's why they smirked as I raised the flag and blustered.
But you miscalculated.
Share the loot? Hilarious.
How dare these traitors pilfer my treasury... no, His Majesty's可怜 subjects.
Not even jokes lift my mood.
If it were mere embezzlement, I might not be this furious.
I'd rather seat Yeoni or Jangbok in the chambers.
These things lack even the brains, pride, or morals of lowly folk.
I clearly said violating those three words means death by beating. You answered, right?
You agreed to the terms, like me.
Let's see you screw up like me... no, die once.