Chapter 10
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Confucius Said: If Words Fail, Use Your Fists
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At the southernmost edge of the empire, deep in the impenetrable jungles of Namman where no human foot had ever trod...
Ancient trees thousands of years old blotted out the sky, and a mystical mist hung in the air. Here, amid the forest and the wind, lived a people who called this place home.
They had an ageless beauty that seemed untouched by time, with long, pointed ears unlike those of humans.
They were the Green Moon Tribe.
Among them, the elder of elders—once even tutor to the emperor of the empire—Immortal Master Cheonun sat on a terrace woven from vines, sipping tea as he read a message from the outside world.
"Ho."
His pointed ears twitched slightly. Beside him, his young disciple Nokhui—who was still learning at his knee from ancient tomes—looked up from her book.
"Master. What news has you reacting like that? Has that bloodthirsty emperor stirred up trouble again?"
"No. Quite the opposite."
Cheonun set the letter down with a wry chuckle.
"The man was sharp enough when he slaughtered his brothers to claim the throne, but the moment he became emperor, he grew lazy and listless, shirking everything. Yet now he's rising at dawn to attend to state affairs."
"That slothful tyrant? The sun will rise in the west. And today it rose in the east."
"Indeed. I left him because I thought he'd pacified the chaos but lacked the vessel to govern in peace... Has he suddenly turned over a new leaf?"
Cheonun gazed northward, beyond the dense canopy.
The emperor was moving with passion once more. The pillar of the empire, on the verge of rot, might yet be shored up.
For ages, Cheonun had dreamed of peace and plenty—not just for the Green Moon Tribe, but for the entire world.
Memories of the past began to stir and rise within him.
His thoughts drifted back to ancient days, long forgotten, when he had lived among humans.
Outside the inn, the flames of war raged across the world. It was one of the most tumultuous eras in the age of chaos.
Yet inside the inn, an eerie silence reigned. Two men sat across a single table, deep in conversation.
One was a mysterious, beautiful youth with pointed ears: Cheonun.
The other was a giant in human form. He stood over nine feet and six inches tall—more than two meters—with forearms as thick as a grown man's thighs and shoulders broad as a city wall.
He was the man who would later be hailed as the Sage of the Ages: Kong Qiu, the Master.
"Brother Kong Qiu. Have a drink."
By age, Cheonun was an unfathomable junior, but he used human measures in his words.
"Wine must be drunk with propriety. Your cup is held too high."
Kong Qiu accepted the cup with delicate care, at odds with his bandit-chief build. Cheonun propped his chin and asked slantwise,
"So, how do you plan to pacify this chaos?"
Kong Qiu clenched his rock-like fist with a serious gaze.
"Rectify the names. A ruler must rule as a ruler, a subject serve as a subject, a father father as a father. If all fulfill their proper roles, the world will find peace on its own."
"Sigh, that again. You look like a bandit lord, but your heart's a flower garden. Why?"
Cheonun clicked his tongue.
"Your words are fine. But the order's wrong. The people are starving so bad they're selling their own kids. Tell them to 'be fatherly'—think that'll fly? Lucky if they don't club you."
"That's precisely why benevolence and rites are needed! Why is this chaos? To avoid living like beasts, we must reclaim our humanity."
"No. Survival comes first. You need a full belly before rites. No shelter from the rain, no porridge for tomorrow—what use are morals? Fill the basics of life first, then governance works."
It was a bizarre scene. The immortal Green Moon Tribe member argued pure pragmatism and rice bowls, while the short-lived human preached noble ideals and virtue.
An irony where race and philosophy had swapped places.
"Unlike your lofty, mystical kin, you're far too worldly, Cheonun."
"Brother. Debating morals with that muscle? You're wasting your gifts."
In the end, words settled nothing.
Kong Qiu rose slowly from his seat. His massive shadow engulfed the inn.
He flung off his outer robe.
His back muscles, harder than armor, rippled like a tiger's. This was no scholar's frame, but a body forged in iron.
"If words fail..."
Kong Qiu cracked his massive knuckles with sharp pops.
"Then persuade with the body. Isn't this rite as well?"
Cheonun rose with a bitter smile.
"Ha. So it's not Confucianism, but Confucian Might you're preaching. Come on, you overgrown know-it-all."
Boom!
Kong Qiu's fist shot forward. It was no mere punch.
As if the character for benevolence had taken form and flown at him—an overwhelming straight fist strike!
When the heart of loving one's fellows is poured into a blow with full force, it can rattle bones physically too.
Cheonun met the crashing momentum with an open palm, deflecting it aside. It was a masterful move, infused with the Green Moon Tribe's signature softness, dispersing it into the flow of nature.
Rumble!
Even deflected, the force lingered—the inn's roof tore free.
The ground cracked around them, dust of chaos billowing up.
"Not bad, Cheonun! But my vital spirit of vastness is far from spent!"
"What vital spirit blasts roofs? And I said rites spring from a full stomach!"
The high philosophy debate devolved into a primal brawl of "you're wrong, no you are."
The two monsters traded blows for dozens of exchanges atop the ruins.
After a long fight, they collapsed gasping on the wreckage, sprawled out.
A draw.
"Heh... your fists pack heat. Why not farm with that strength?"
"You too, brother. Preach love with those muscles—faster to teach rites with fists, no?"
Flat on their backs, they gazed at the sky and chuckled.
Kong Qiu murmured at the night heavens.
"I know my way's too idealistic. Doesn't fit this chaos, I get it. But someone has to dream. If you weigh every situation, when do you reach the dream? Step out now—only then will you arrive someday."
"......"
"Someday, your reality and my ideal will meet?"
Cheonun snorted.
"Who knows. Will such an age ever come? Not even in a millennium."
Time wore on, piling up regrets and memories.
Cheonun set down his teacup with a bitter smile.
"A millennium has passed... and the answer remains distant."
That era of chaos had ended. Yet even with the empire unifying all under one rule, that day never came.
He'd hoped under the First Emperor, who ruled all, it might draw near bit by bit. But whenever a dark tyrant arose, the world reverted to chaos as if nothing had changed.
In the most recent past, the sudden death of the emperor and strife among the princes had struck.
Fearing chaos anew, Cheonun chose a second-best—perhaps second-worst—path. Chaos did not come.
Instead, the pillar he'd chosen began to rot from within.
Emperor Juwon ascended the throne on his brothers' blood, but his cruelty bred doubt of his legitimacy and isolated him. The people had escaped war, only to cower under the emperor's whims.
The bold exchange with Kong Qiu—the debate unresolved even at death—still floated unanswered through history.
"And yet... Juwon has changed."
Curiosity flickered in Cheonun's eyes. What had moved that stubborn emperor?
He wanted to see for himself.
Perhaps his reluctant second-worst was truly best. Or something had grown in the interim, teaching him propriety.
"Nokhui."
"Yes, Master."
"Pack our things. We're going to the palace."
Nokhui's eyes widened in surprise.
"Didn't you vow to cut ties with the mortal world? Why go to that den of corruption?"
Cheonun rose from his seat.
"To check. If my choice was truly right. Or just another whim. Who knows—he might have had a great awakening and aim to be a sage king."
His kin dared speak of immortality, but nothing escaped age and decay forever. He leaned on his staff, his body no longer what it was.
"A millennium's heartburn won't fade sitting still. Let's move."
Strike day three. The East Palace lay wrapped in silence, seemingly unchanged. Its master holed up in his chambers, no one coming or going—but appearances deceived.
I hadn't starved. Far from it—I was eating well.
"Your Highness. The imperial kitchens' 'Park Clan' sent fried chicken legs."
Soso unwrapped the bundle slipped through the window slit. Another fine meal today.
I tore into a drumstick with a grin.
"Parks owes gambling debts, right? Dropped a hint, and he delivers."
A palace worker hounded by gambling debts? Scandal enough to lose his post if word spread. A mere nudge, and tribute flowed.
"I've poached other inner servants too. Laundry 'Kims' with sweets, garden 'Chois' with fruits."
Dessert perfection.
Idling away days like a wastrel, eating and sleeping well—my lost appetite had returned.
The emperor forbade even a sip of water, and the eunuchs obeyed. But did the palace run on eunuchs alone? Plenty of other inner servants lurked.
I hadn't even tapped the secrets from Mother's list. Petty leverages like these sufficed.
"Father, even as emperor, can't know and micromanage every palace affair."
I chuckled, finishing the drumstick. At this rate, I could hold out a month or two.
Stuffing myself gleefully, savoring dessert in leisure, when a voice called from beyond the sealed East Palace doors. Footsteps sounded urgent, unlike usual.
Not the emperor. Who, then?
Eunuch Jo Yun's voice trembled.
"Your Highness! Crown Prince Highness!"
"Not opening! Strike's not over! No talks!"
"It's not that! Right now... right now...!"
Even from outside, Jo's gasps sounded on the verge of collapse. Per the emperor's orders, no one but Soso could enter.
"His Majesty... has gone to the main palace gate himself to greet them!"
Ah, that explained the visit. I'd asked servants to report any odd vibes or changes.
Main gate, though?
The emperor leaving his throne was rare; a personal welcome, rarer still.
"Who's come?"
"Not sure yet, but His Majesty ran out barefoot! A guest of utmost import!"
A figure warranting that peerless emperor's personal dash. Unknown who, but potential leverage if played right.
An opportunity.
I shot to my feet.
"Soso, let's go."
Soso, cleaning post-feast remnants, shot back as if I'd lost my mind.
"You must stay in the East Palace. Where to?"
I ignored her "how many lives you got?" sarcasm.
"Whoever it is, gotta see if usable."
"Then stay put. You'll really die."
Her words gave me pause, no denying.
Father's mercy had already spared me thrice over. Crossing the line again? Honestly worrisome.
"No choice. Soso, you scout. Find out who."
"As you command."
She vanished in an instant. But the food remained. Who cleans now?
Wind blew in through the open window, carrying the room's scents southward on a warm breeze, scattering them away.