Chapter 204
Chapter 204
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 204
Chapter Title: Policies for a Rich Country and Strong Army (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
If you were to ask where Provincial Military Commander Kim Seongu of Pyeongando got the balls to try drowning King Yeongjo's son-in-law Kim Unhaeng, the only answer is that Joseon—especially Pyeongando—has always been like that.
Sixty years later, Kim Josun's son from the Yeongan Buwongun line (who would become King Sunjo's father-in-law), Kim Yugeun, was appointed as Pyeongando Observer at a young age, just like Kim Unhaeng.
Just like Kim Unhaeng, he was the Pyeongando Governor, and just like him, from the royal in-law family. Add the power of time, and the future Jangdong Kim clan's influence dwarfs the present.
Yet this dignified noble family's eldest son—Uncle to Crown Prince Hyomyeong, no less—nearly got butchered by a mere retired clerk, not even a Provincial Military Vice Commander.
The former official Jang grabbed a single sword and ambushed the procession single-handedly. Kim Yugeun's sister-in-law, two maids, and an unfortunate innkeeper—four women in total—were killed, with the rest suffering severe wounds.
The reason? Utterly ridiculous.
Kim Yugeun hadn't accepted Jang's greeting.
Pre-modern folks just didn't think much about consequences.
Holding back your rage in a shitty life and living long didn't guarantee a hopeful world. And in Pyeongando, close to Joseon's untouchables, nearly the entire population suffered from anger management issues.
Of course, Kim Seongu wasn't from Pyeongando, but the province's semi-independent, anti-government vibe suited a corrupt bastard like him perfectly.
It's impossible to grasp crimes in remote borders—where even Seoul and the capital's budget don't reach—just from paperwork.
On top of these external factors, Kim Seongu's internal traits fueled his resolve.
In truth, Kim Seongu and Kim Unhaeng are hard to tell apart.
Corruption everywhere they went, arbitrary beatings and arrests. Kim Unhaeng the civil official lacked scholarship; Kim Seongu the military one lacked martial prowess. He even pulled the same scam as Kim Unhaeng in his Korean Army days, faking marksmanship with a target.
But one key difference.
Kim Seongu's entire black history is well-documented in the annals and diaries.
Kim Unhaeng, however—from 21st-century Korean Army to everywhere—left no dishonorable records.
In short, Kim Seongu was far less intelligent than his greed demanded. A bulldozer-type corrupt fool, if you will.
For all these reasons, a clash between the two corrupt officials was inevitable.
That said, as Kim Seongu himself considered, securing evidence of Kim Unhaeng's crimes was smarter than outright murder for risk management.
So he sneaked Maeng Chan into Kim Unhaeng's boot camp.
"Forget sins against the people or nation—Kim Unhaeng's the guy who played bed-warmer to the Jurchen emperor and fawned over him. Isn't he your enemy too?"
"Come to think of it, there was a Joseon envoy favored by the emperor..."
"Right, that was Kim Chunsik. Seems he's up to no good again, training soldiers with foul intent. Check it out. If caught, just kill the criminal. Your deadly palm strike kills grown men in one hit, right?"
Tactics were brutal before any justification. Good thing no wars broke out while this high general was around.
Infiltration wasn't too hard, though.
Maeng Chan had sold his labor around Wangga Store in front of Zhangshing as a kid on tribute roads.
He could speak late Joseon Korean decently. Not having a queue, like an anti-Qing cadre, helped too.
Kim Unhaeng's recruits were a ragtag bunch from messy rosters. Maeng Chan even got potatoes as a substitute recruit from the original draftee.
Once in, Maeng Chan adapted easily. Running was child's play for someone at Dongchun-gong's 10th stage.
But things went too smoothly—that was the problem.
Running hard by the river near Uiju, where Kim Unhaeng set up training, Maeng Chan suddenly felt a chill.
A sinister aura only a master like him could sense.
Punishing sneaky smugglers was, naturally, a secret Uiju customs office operation. Only the righteous thieves approved by the Pyeongando Governor participated.
So there I was, stroking my chin during a rare break at the training grounds.
"Oh ho, promising."
A guy with stats nearly matching Eoji's.
Not Eoji's rival—Eoji's all physical, so this guy's strong elsewhere.
Balanced civil-martial talent fit for leading the Angel Girl Bandits. How long could the Governor handle this personally?
I lacked reliable northern contacts.
I'd pushed Gil-sang to Senior Investigator, but shadow operatives have limits. Sinheup's untrustworthy yet, and Yun Pildeok's Seoul-bound.
Even considered Jangbok, but that'd leave home base empty... Russians? I said 'people.'
His limbs screamed dedicated training. In this era, wasting rice like that meant betting on the body for success. Offer a rice-caked officer post, and he'd bite.
Face screamed hired thug. Born to serve in the Joseon army.
With Uncle Sam's poster resolve, I pointed and called him. Joseon wants you.
He hesitated overly—intimidated by noble dignity, it seemed.
So I showed magnanimous noble mercy.
"Fear not. I know your heart."
With Kim Unhaeng's encouragement—and a secret summons to the customs office at night—Maeng Chan got goosebumps.
Not fearing pederasty.
'Did he catch on?'
Maeng Chan tried calming himself.
If caught, he'd just call guards and nab him.
But abroad, anxiety whispered alternatives.
'If he truly knows my heart? A trap?'
Maeng Chan was a warrior. Plots strained his nature.
One clean solution.
Kill Kim Unhaeng tonight, no questions.
Then Kim Seongu would supply White Lotus with free gunpowder and firearms as promised. Joseon guns like Western ones were huge assets.
Strengthen forces, ally with Sedal or Jiangnan Heaven-Earth Society, and the uprising nears. Act before the emperor crushes domestic and foreign foes.
For righteousness, infiltrate barbarian lands alone to seal the deal. Even assassin legends lack such heroes.
Leader Wang Lun wouldn't hesitate giving stepdaughter O Samrang as wife and heir.
Just like Ming Taizu Zhu Yuanzhang. O Samrang no prettier than Empress Ma, but Maeng Chan's blood boiled.
The customs office, in Uiju county office's remotest spot, was still bare-bones.
Sitting across from Maeng Chan, Kim Unhaeng prattled about rank, money, glorious futures.
Maeng Chan ignored it all.
'Cowardly... no, cautious sort.'
One guard? Even a strong one has gaps eventually.
But three now. That giant shadow, plus two Arasa soldiers.
Plan B. Feigning感動 at Kim Unhaeng's words, Maeng Chan waited.
The giant—strength inversely proportional to brains—finally spoke hesitantly.
"Piss."
Kim Unhaeng sighed, face falling.
"Eoji. Say 'pardon, this lowly one will step out' properly. No balcony like last time—go to the outhouse, even at night."
"Yes."
Eoji's hefty footsteps faded into the distance.
Maeng Chan stood, as if struck by the urge.
"This lowly one too..."
Then kicked the Arasa soldier's face dead-on between him and Kim Unhaeng.
A seated kick to the face is deadly.
Even a commoner can kill. For non-commoner Maeng Chan, far deadlier.
The Kazakh soldier crumpled, never rising. His spirited soul, tough even against mare kicks, crossed to the afterlife instantly.
The other scrambled up, hand to waist.
Child's play to Maeng Chan. Drawing sword arm-down-up vs. his straight thrust? Obvious winner.
Controlled palm heel smashed the Russian's eye.
Splat! Sunken socket caved deeper, tough eyeball shocking the brain behind.
Maeng Chan's signature deadly palm. Bad luck: death. Good: combat ineffective. Soldier collapsed limply.
Maeng Chan turned to Kim Unhaeng. Before he could think, thumb knuckle struck ribs.
Pain to floor any man for a round. Pitifully, Maeng Chan said in Chinese,
"You know official speech as envoy. We're no natural foes, but for the world's people..."
Thankfully, no need for true motive—"and for my love"—that'd haunt dreams for a decade.
Kim Unhaeng, seemingly down, stretched and gripped the oil lamp wick.
The room plunged into total darkness.
A bewildered roar echoed. No smartphone flashlights or clicky fluorescents—this era was the best.
Especially since I could vaguely see him.
Shin Sukju's Chastity isn't infrared. But like bright flapping clothes, I could track in dark. Like spotting stealth units rippling sans detector.
But punching him out? Insane.
I'd extinguished the light because he blabbered villainously first.
Till he spoke, I hadn't sensed a thing. Martial arts?
No fumbling—I bolted outside.
Instant regret. Damn, he could too. And outside? Moonlight I can't snuff.
Sure enough, he smashed through the door, yelling,
"If you're a general, don't flee like a coward!"
What anti-humanist nonsense? Who calls life ugly? Existence is beautiful in any form. Me rolling on dirt? Beautiful.
Above all, I'm civil, not general. Never needed fights lifetime.
Because Eoji exists.
Outside, darkness-adapted Eoji saw clearer.
"Graaaargh!"
Eoji's tackle launched the assassin like a truck hit.
Now thinking, I spun my head. With Eoji in, fight's over.
'No grudge, he said. Hired hit. Who? Mansang?'
But no more thought.
Incredibly, the assassin rose after Eoji's hit.
Not done. He leaped, kicking. Sharp whoosh—Eoji's head snapped back.
Maeng Chan didn't flee from exceptional bravery.
Abroad, foe's local power. Flee, and round two's army-backed nightmare.
So eliminate Eoji and Kim Unhaeng here. Maeng Chan steadied painfully.
Raging from novel 'being hit,' Eoji roared, flinging arms wide.
Maeng Chan's breath quickened in agony and fear.
'Is that guy human...?'
Not just initial body slam.
His precise temple kick should've sunk any brain-bearer.
But Eoji just got mad. That dim rage highlighted beastliness.
'However!'
The weak develop martial arts against strong violence.
The oppressed wield righteousness against tyranny.
Maeng Chan: White Lotus spear. Hope for abused masses.
From chats and impressions, Kim Unhaeng opposed that.
Beyond arms deals or O Samrang, core reason: no retreat.
Maeng Chan thrust sharply.
Five days later, Provincial Military Commander Kim Seongu got an unwelcome guest instead of awaited news.
"What now from Training Commander? Our troops lack time for weird Western drills."
Training Commander Yun Pildeok looked too stunned to retort, 'Calling His Majesty's Muye Sinbo weird Western? Wanna be Western?'
"Not that. Some fiend beat the Governor to near-death. Came secretly to prevent camp unrest."
Kim Seongu faked shock masterfully.
"What? What were the guards doing? Who's the enemy?"
"Don't know details. Hurt Governor, fled, caught and minced by troops—no questioning."
Kim Seongu felt heaven's mandate like Wang Lun.
No witnesses, no free White Lotus arms. Heaven favors elsewhere.
With Yun Pildeok's 'light procession moves fast' advice, Kim took light cavalry to the Governor's office.
In his career-symbolizing light gallop, Kim Seongu smiled contentedly.
That smile faded like a sad film's flashback.
No one saw Pyeongando's Commander after.
No military impact, since he never handled camp duties.
Admit it, Kim Seongu.
No one pushed me to such direct peril. Not even Yeongjo.
Foolish berserkers are hardest to block.
But fools stay fools. Once blocked, mine to roast or boil.
I cared not for comfy mercy.
Anyway, no more Kim Seongu worries.
With personal revenge joy, I found another 'rich country, strong army' ploy.
More urgent than doomed Kim. I eyed my recent 'international call' acquisition.
Forensics done.
"He'd have killed you post-job anyway. Good call. Now your Shandong followers live safe."
Maeng Chan flinched. Yeah, smart.
Mess up, White Lotus extinct that day. I'd tattle to the emperor.
Plus, repurposed Maeng Chan's trait.
Martial artist? Nah. Useful once, but fights rare lifelong.
He's Chinese-made. Chinese devices always have one thing.
Backdoor.