Chapter 7
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: If Honor Is Gold to Martial Artists, Pay Your Honor Tax
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The mornings in the Imperial Palace were always serene, yet fiercely intense, just like always.
I was sitting across from my father, Emperor Juwon, at a small table tucked away in a corner of the audience hall, sharing our morning meal as usual.
But today, instead of a murderous pile of ledgers beside my place setting, there lay a secret report from the Gold Army guards.
"Hmmm..."
The emperor set down his spoon and scanned the report. He seemed impassive, but I didn't miss the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Jui-an."
"Yes, Father."
"It seems there was quite the amusing incident at that inn yesterday."
Here it comes. I took a sip of soup and replied as calmly and nonchalantly as possible.
"There was a disturbance during my undercover patrol, so I handled it."
"You caught a Mount Hua Sect lay disciple and shoved a kitchen knife in his hand? Made him chop vegetables to pay off his debt?"
"He had no money, so I made him work it off physically. There's even a clause in the national law that allows labor in lieu of fines if one can't pay. Martial artists can't be exempt."
The emperor stared at me intently, then suddenly burst into laughter.
"Kahahaha! Right, no exceptions! An excellent judgment."
Looking immensely pleased, the emperor picked up a thick skewer of meat with his chopsticks and plopped it onto my rice bowl. This was his way of giving the highest praise.
"All this time, whenever those martial artist scum caused trouble, the local yamen hushed it up out of fear of retaliation. Knowing that, they grew arrogant, strutting into government offices like they owned the back alley privy."
A cold glint sharpened the emperor's eyes.
"But you've bound martial artists within the framework of the law and shattered their mystique. You've shown the world that even a sword-wielding master is just a debtor chopping veggies if he owes money. Right, what makes martial artists so different? They're subjects of this empire too. You've given me exactly the spectacle I wanted to see."
"Thank you for the praise."
"Well done. Very well done. But..."
For once, the emperor hesitated, as if something didn't sit right with him. It felt like he was forcing out words he didn't want to say, leaving an awkward pause. After a long moment, he finally spoke.
"Those bastards will throw a fit. With their egos piercing the heavens, they'll kick up a fuss. Have you thought about the aftermath?"
"Just follow the law. The law stands above emotions."
"Very well. I'll be watching."
The emperor finished his meal and rose from his seat. His gaze settled into calm resolve.
"I'll handle this officially at the morning assembly. You go focus on your studies."
That morning's assembly. Rather than making a fuss, the emperor issued his command to the Justice Minister in a dry, bureaucratic tone.
"Hear this, Justice Department."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Lately, there have been frequent cases of martial artists damaging property and causing disturbances within the Imperial City. I hereby clarify the punishment standards."
Leaning crookedly on his throne, the emperor declared with an aura that crushed the realm.
"Martial artists are not somehow outside the empire's citizenry. I recall granting no such exemptions. They must pay triple damages for harm to civilians as a principle, and if they lack the means, they will immediately serve labor at the yamen to make up for it. If they flee, a nationwide arrest warrant will be issued, and their sect will bear joint liability. That is all."
"We, your servants, receive and obey!"
The ministers couldn't help but be stunned by the sudden decree.
Under the Civil-Military Non-Aggression Pact, the empire had no choice but to endure the myriad outrages committed by martial artists.
No one could stop the sects from wielding force, ignoring local offices under the pretext of maintaining order in areas beyond administrative reach.
Long ago in the distant past, when an emperor had actively countered this, he was forced into an unofficial acknowledgment of the pact after an assault by supreme experts. No one had touched that precedent since.
Now, for the first time—even if only in the Imperial City—a rebellious edict had been issued.
This was more terrifying than mere anger. It was the empire's official declaration, classifying martial artists not as wandering heroes, but as managed criminals.
After the assembly ended, I returned to the East Palace and faced my tutors. I'd even earned praise from the emperor—maybe today they'd go easy?
Fat chance. Not a chance in hell.
"Your Highness! I'm disappointed!"
Former Gold Army Commander General Ma Cheolsan bellowed. His massive muscles rippled. What now? Was collecting the debt somehow wrong?
"Your on-site handling was superb. Your application of the law was perfect. However!"
Ma Cheolsan jabbed a thick finger at my thigh.
"Why didn't you step up yourself? Hiding behind Soso and just giving orders? That's as good as admitting your own fists are weak!"
What could a five-year-old's punch even do? Hurt? My fists are weak, that's true. What am I supposed to do about facts?
"No, General. Soso's martial arts are stronger, why would I..."
"The emperor's dignity comes from overwhelming force as well! A true ruler must excel in both civil and martial arts! Your weak lower body makes you instinctively cower in crises!"
Miraculous logic. I wanted to argue, but in a warrior's world, it might look like I chickened out. Words failed me.
No, I can't let something like this shut me down. That would mean letting Old Man Ma dominate my mind!
"The conclusion is clear. You urgently need lower body training."
Ma Cheolsan pulled something from the corner. Sandbags. Heavy-looking ones.
"From today, wear these while circling the training grounds."
"..."
I glanced at Minister Gwak Jeong-eon, standing beside me.
Help me out, civil tutor. You're the rational one.
But even Old Man Gwak nodded gravely in agreement.
"General Ma has a point. If the mind is weak, the body must be strong. As Mencius teaches, when Heaven is about to confer a great responsibility on someone, it first tests their will by grinding their mind and toiling their bones and muscles. Off you go."
I hadn't read all of Mencius. No idea if that's really in there. Couldn't even refute it. Damn these old coots. They sync up perfectly.
I strapped on the sandbags and ground my teeth as I circled the training grounds. This whole mess started because of that Mount Hua Sect thug.
Mount Hua Sect, I'll never forget. I'll make them pay for this suffering.
Every time my legs shook, my thirst for revenge blazed. And there was a shadow of vengeance burning just as hot as mine.
A few days later, the Dragon Gate Inn was packed to the gills.
"Look over there! A real Mount Hua Sect master chopping veggies!"
"Whoa, check out that knife work! The leeks are dancing!"
The rumors spread like wildfire. Crowds flocked to see the debt-paying hero's veggie-chopping skills, filling the restaurant.
At first, Baekun must have wanted to die. Chopping leeks with a prestigious sect's swordsmanship? He'd have bitten his tongue in shame. But...
Clang!
"Oppa, you're so cool! Here's a viewing fee!"
"Hey, peel some garlic too! Extra tip!"
Coins and silver scraps piled up at his feet from the crowd. Baekun's eyes changed when he saw them.
'Huh? This... makes money? If I pay off the debt like this, I can bolt sooner, right?'
Better to go all out and escape than wallow in shame forever!
He tossed aside any embarrassment. It was embarrassing anyway—better to earn fast, pay up, and split.
"Mount Hua's secret technique! Plum Blossom Scatter!"
He shouted a kiai as ten onions tossed in the air thudded to the floor.
In an instant, they were sliced to bits—a feat that brought tears to the eyes, whether from the skill or the onions.
Tears aside, applause poured in. He was selling his soul to pay off the debt.
But the news exploded in the wrong place.
"How dare they touch my precious son!"
Baekun's parents had arrived in the Imperial City. Mount Hua Sect lay disciple Baekun's folks.
His father was a martial artist once called "Iron Palm," his mother a heroine known as "Flying Swallow."
Both had once dominated the jianghu but retired with their wealth, living large in the countryside. Hearing their son was "juggling kitchen knives like a clown" had sent them into a frenzy.
They stormed the Ministry of Rites office, flipping desks and causing a scene.
"What an insult! Do you know who my son is? I'm brothers with Mount Hua Sect elders! And you turned my boy into a street performer?!"
"Release my son now! Bring that merchant's kid who was there, the one who reported it—I demand an apology!"
The problem? That merchant's son was the crown prince.
The Ministry of Rites agonized over how to handle these thugs invoking Mount Hua Sect's name. They could just take the money and let them go, but these folks were making noise about honor, complicating things.
Regular commoners? A good beating would do. But with real ties to Mount Hua Sect, it was a headache. Instead of dealing with it, the officials consulted me.
I received the report while dripping sweat, enduring the sandbags' weight on the training grounds.
"Oh? The parents came themselves?"
I didn't want to disappoint my officials for not handling it, but this bought me a brief rest. Should I thank them or get mad? Either way, the issue needed resolving.
I wiped my sweat with a towel and smirked. Good thing it wasn't some boring plot where a rich patron throws money and ends it.
Honor? Pride?
Those are the easiest types to deal with.
"Soso. Let's go. And General Ma, come with us."
We headed to the Ministry of Rites reception room. Upon arrival, Baekun's parents were fuming, not even touching their tea.
The father looked fierce, the mother venomous. Classic "my kid's the only precious one" nightmare parents.
"You're that merchant's brat!"
As soon as I entered, "Iron Palm" Baek roared.
"You rotten little punk! How dare you humiliate a hero? Kneel and apologize to my son right now! Or face the jianghu's justice..."
Thud!
Ma Cheolsan stomped forward. A mere stomp cracked the stone floor, and heavy killing intent washed over the Baek couple.
"This is royalty. Watch your mouth."
The overwhelming pressure from a former Gold Army commander. Even these ex-jianghu toughs recoiled before the killer aura of a true battlefield general.
And above all, the weight of that one word from his mouth crushed the air.
"C-Crown Prince?"
Even martial artists couldn't act freely against the crown prince. This situation could even qualify as lèse-majesté.
But people thinking that wouldn't come to the ministry. Sure enough, they showed their true colors.
"We're not here for violence! We're here to reason!"
"Even the crown prince can't mistreat the common folk!"
The Baeks backed down, switching to verbal sparring. Exactly what I'd waited for.
"Reason? Fine. Let's reason."
To these fools who couldn't even recognize the crown prince, I decided to show a different side.
I lounged arrogantly in a chair, flipping through a document.
"Your precious son smashed up the inn and disrupted business, causing 80 taels in damages. Whether he was on sect business or not, that's the clear result. You say we can't mistreat the people? That goes for your son too. The yamen even considered his inability to pay and assigned fair labor instead of jail. That's the empire's law. What's the problem?"
Shoving principles at them, they finally surrendered.
"Eighty taels, you say? We'll pay! Just take it!"
Mr. Baek reached for a bill of exchange, but I raised a hand to stop him.
"The money's mostly settled. I hear your fine son has diligently chopped enough veggies to nearly pay it off."
"Th-Then... just release him now!"
"Can't do that."
"What?! This is tyranny!"
I smiled coldly.
"Do you even realize what you've done? You've trampled the crown prince's dignity. You rampaged in the Ministry of Rites, challenging the imperial family's rightful authority."
"...!"
Finally, their rage-fogged brains were turning.
"Instead of atoning for your son's crimes, you stormed the yamen and demanded an apology from the crown prince? Think you can just brush this off? Does the imperial house look that laughable to you?"
The Baeks' faces drained white. They'd come swinging jianghu logic, only to realize they'd challenged imperial authority—something that could tie to treason.
"Treason, you say?"
I glared coldly, and they finally panicked, scrambling to salvage things.
"Tr-Treason?! We just came as fathers..."
"Fatherly duty?"
I picked up a brush and began writing on paper.
"Fine, fatherly duty. Touched by that, I'll show mercy. Your son's debt is his to pay. But you two rampaged here today, challenging imperial authority and threatening imperial officials. And dared to defy the crown prince."
I stared them down.
"Crimes that merit death, but your words about fatherly duty moved me. So I'll lighten the punishment. Pay the fine."
"F-Fine?"
"I heard you shouting in the ministry about your past fame in the jianghu. Must've earned a fortune. But did you pay taxes?"
"Taxes?"
What were taxes to martial artists? Ronin earning cash, blowing it wildly—barely scraping indirect taxes.
Taxes were alien to them. Ignoring they lived in the empire, deluding themselves they dwelt in some independent jianghu.
"Whether from escort missions or cargo hauling, income means taxes. Poll tax, land tax—did you pay any properly? Maybe recently. Or maybe offices feared your force and waived them. Anyway... I'll check. Whether you've paid taxes."
"N-No... well..."
I ignored their flustered faces.
"Along with the fine, we'll verify your taxes and bill you. Try running if you dare. The empire will hunt you to the ends."
I drafted an order. To be sent to local offices, confirming taxes and collecting back taxes with the fine.
Then slammed the crimson crown prince seal.
"Your son will sort himself out. As for you, feel the terror of the empire's law in your bones."
The Baeks gaped. They'd come for a shouting match over their son and got hit with a tax bomb.
This wasn't the jianghu rules they knew. Rescuing their boy had shaken their household's foundations.
Watching them, I thought:
'What martial artists should fear most isn't masters or the Demonic Cult. It's the tax collector.'
Thus ended this minor incident.
Yet it spread across the entire jianghu in a flash.
The first case of a tax audit on a martial artist. And the prelude to the terror of tax collection.