Self-Proclaimed Son of Heaven (1)

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, yet Taishan stayed refreshingly cool. The early summer winds swept across the mountain and chilled it beautifully, but from the direction of Xuzhou the sharp, metallic reek of blood never faded. I sat at the edge of the ridge, staring out toward Xuzhou. The province still looked like it was writhing in uneasy spasms.

It’s been almost a full year since Do Gyeom left.

In the second year of Zhongping, eighth month. Do Gyeom had received a summons from the imperial court and departed for Yangzhou. Xuzhou had enjoyed a brief spell of peace thanks to his efforts, but keeping that peace was less important to him than quelling the rebellion in Yangzhou. Once he left, the province fell apart again. The local governments stopped functioning, and the officials cared only about squeezing taxes from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the people. Yellow Turban remnants and bandit gangs boiled up everywhere. The peasants, desperate to survive, began taking up arms once more.

And the ones who seized that opening were, of course, us.

“We’ve already sunk our roots deep into every corner of Xuzhou,” I muttered.

The Black Mountain Army had planted people among the merchant caravans that crossed Taishan—porters, drivers, and escorts. Men who worked cheap, obeyed orders, and knew how to swing a blade.

“The Xuzhou merchants now treat hiring men from the Black Mountain Army as perfectly normal,” Yu Byeok said quietly from behind me.

I gave a small nod. These days, whenever the merchants crossed the mountain or traded inside Xuzhou, they automatically brought along porters and guards from our ranks.

“They’re cheap, reliable, and they know the roads,” Yu Byeok added with a hint of sarcasm.

“Then it’s fine. Everybody wins,” I said, slowly rising to my feet. “If we’re going to live by real banditry now, we might as well become the empire’s public enemy.”

The Black Mountain Army had changed. The gang that once just collected tolls had quietly transformed into a warlord faction that controlled the flow of money.

“And we’ve finally turned those beggar bastards into proper troops,” I murmured, looking down at the fields beneath Taishan.

The ten thousand survivors of Jang Wu-gak’s crew who had made it out of Julu. We culled the useless ones, trained the rest, and reorganized them. Their equipment was still shabby—rusty helmets, patched armor that had been sewn and reinforced. But at the very least they were properly armed now, and no one would mistake them for common bandits anymore.

The Black Mountain Army was steadily seeping into Yanzhou and Xuzhou.

“The problem is—” Yu Byeok continued with a stiff expression, “—the civil ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠officials.”

I nodded. The Black Mountain Army had grown strong, but the number of men who could read and write was tragically small.

“That’s why we’re using the ones we have so well,” I said, pointing toward a small tent a short distance away.

Inside, young Do Eung was sorting through a mountain of bamboo slips, heads bent together with several other men.

“The son Do Gyeom left in my care.”

“......”

Yu Byeok frowned. I chuckled.

“What? You still don’t like it?”

Yu Byeok hesitated, clearly wanting to say something, before finally speaking.

“Can we really entrust the Black Mountain Army’s secrets… to Do Gyeom’s son and his people?”

I looked at him quietly.

“I understand what you’re saying.”

Then I walked slowly over to the pile of bamboo slips. Records of transactions with merchants. Grain transport logs. Secret routes for acquiring weapons. Information as vital as the heart of the Black Mountain Army itself. I picked one up, scanned it, and tossed it aside.

“Then why don’t you learn to read and organize all this yourself?”

“......”

Yu Byeok’s mouth opened and closed before he hurriedly backed away.

“No, sir!”

He practically fled. I shrugged.

“We’re hardly in a position to be picky.”

It was a remark that came straight from the bone-deep worry in my heart. Right now we had no choices. If someone was useful, we had to use them.

I turned my gaze back toward Xuzhou. Ever since Do Gyeom left, the province had fallen into chaos, but within that chaos the Black Mountain Army was quietly growing. Controlling the roads, controlling the merchants, controlling the people—

“Lord Jang Yeon.”

So-yeon approached.

“Do Eung is looking for you.”

“Do Eung?”

I raised an eyebrow and turned my head.

“Why?”

“He’s organizing the bamboo slips and says there’s something he wants you to check personally.”

I shrugged again.

“Then I suppose I should go.”

The makeshift administrative tent was overflowing with bamboo slips. Documents, military supply records, tax collection lists, transport inventories… a sight that really didn’t suit men who used to only know how to rob people.

I stepped inside slowly. Do Eung was staring intently at a bamboo slip, eyebrows furrowed as he wrote something down. The boy looked genuinely serious.

“What did you need me for?” I asked.

Do Eung immediately held out one of the slips.

“Lord Jang Yeon, I found a problem in this list of protection fees collected.”

I took the slip and skimmed it.

“...Langya Kingdom, huh.”

“Yes. According to the records, there’s a significant discrepancy with the actual amount received.”

I gave a dry laugh.

“Too many bastards who can’t do basic math.”

I stroked my chin.

“All right. We’ll send people to investigate this separately.”

“Understood.”

Do Eung gave a short nod. I set the slip down and looked over the materials he had organized. Cash ledgers, grain stockpiles, escort deployments, merchant protection tax details… everything was recorded with perfect accuracy.

Fuck. If it weren’t for this kid and the people Do Gyeom sent, we’d be completely screwed.

I suddenly felt a presence behind me. When I turned, Yu Byeok was standing there silently. This time, however, he didn’t complain. He simply stood with his arms crossed, watching Do Eung.

I chuckled and said, “See? If it weren’t for him, our grain supplies would probably be cut in half by now.”

Yu Byeok turned his head like a mute who had swallowed honey. I added bluntly, “If you have any complaints in the future, you organize the bamboo slips. Got it?”

“...I have no complaints.”

Yu Byeok waved his hands frantically and retreated. I laughed under my breath.

Ha, shit. I wish I could find some guys with actual learning in their heads.

Right now, a single person who could read and write was worth more than gold to us. I looked at Do Eung again. The boy was quietly organizing the records.

Good.

His first impression or the fact that he was Do Gyeom’s son didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was a crucial factor keeping the Black Mountain Army running. Even without Do Gyeom’s threats, this was a talent we had to hold onto tightly.

I sat down inside the tent, flicked the dried ink from my fingers, and slowly closed my eyes.

When I had first been dragged here, I had been furious.

Why did Father send me to serve under these bandits?

Do Gyeom—my father. I couldn’t understand why he had sent me to a place like Taishan. I had despised bandits. Filthy, ignorant, beastly creatures. And yet I had been abandoned in the very heart of the Black Mountain bandits of Taishan.

“Hah…”

I set down the bamboo slip and pressed my forehead.

But the real torment was something else. Jang Yeon. The leader of these bandits. He kept giving me work. An insane amount of work, with no time to refuse.

“Take care of these records too.”

“Only you can do this.”

“That? You’ll figure it out.”

He would toss me bamboo slips and even say it was fine to give tasks to the people I had brought with me. At first I thought it was a trap or a test. Or perhaps he was trying to gauge my reaction. But it was sincere. He was genuinely just giving me the work.

He really intends to use me.

I smiled bitterly. If he simply wanted to watch me, there was no need to burden me with so much responsibility. During the days I sat blankly in front of mountains of bamboo slips, Jang Yeon would say casually, “Don’t worry. I’m the one who gave you the work, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so I’ll take responsibility if anything goes wrong.”

He wasn’t shifting blame. He wasn’t doubting me. He simply entrusted me with the work and showed absolute trust. That, ironically, tormented me more.

He… trusts me?

How? How could he trust me?

I set the brush down and took a deep breath. Jang Yeon was crude and ignorant. His speech was vulgar, his actions violent. And yet it was strange. That vulgar speech always struck at the heart of things.

“Fuck, people have to eat to live. Hey, if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you work without eating you’ll die.”

“If we just plunder everything in one go, what happens next? There won’t be anything left to eat. We have to make it last.”

“Acting tough just because you’re strong will get you killed first. No one knows who will die first, so be careful.”

I… caught myself nodding without realizing it. Jang Yeon was crude, but not foolish. Ignorant, but not stupid. I asked myself,

Am I only enduring this because it is Father’s order? Or—

I slowly raised my head. I felt a presence on the other side of the tent. It was Jang Yeon. He walked past me with an indifferent expression. Yet his eyes seemed to pierce right through me. I understood then.

This man is not monitoring me.

He was genuinely expecting things from me. He was trusting me.

But why??

I bit my lip and picked up the brush again. Slowly unrolling a bamboo slip, I muttered, “Let’s handle what’s in front of us first.”

Right now there were things I needed to do more than resentment, hatred, or suspicion. As I moved the brush across the bamboo, I let out a deep sigh.

“Still… it feels a little unfair.”

I knew Jang Yeon was treating me sincerely. I knew that giving me so much work meant he recognized me as talent. But still…

Isn’t he giving me way too much work…?

Recording the grain supplies was my job. Recording the routes of the escort personnel was my job. Even organizing the trade ledgers with the merchants fell to me.

“Do I really have to write the commercial transaction records too…!”

I clutched my head and collapsed onto the bamboo slips. The inside of the tent was hot and humid. Outside I could hear the sounds of soldiers training and porters moving supplies. I sat up again, rested my chin on my hand, and stared at the bamboo slips.

Even so…

It was strange. I was angry and annoyed, yet my hands wouldn’t stop. Honestly, even if I stopped working, Jang Yeon had no real means to force me. And yet I kept holding the brush, counting numbers, writing records… and it was slowly becoming familiar.

Haa…

I shrugged and smiled.

How did it come to this?

They needed me here. Jang Yeon truly trusted me. That expectation was heavy, but unlike my father’s, it felt warm.

Father, have I fallen into the clutches of the Black Mountain Army?

I slowly turned the bamboo slip. I no longer complained. No, I didn’t even have the luxury to complain. The motion of organizing the bamboo slips had gradually become natural.

I glanced outside the tent. Black Mountain soldiers were laughing as they carried supplies. Their faces were deeply tanned, their hands rough, but their eyes held a certain brightness. They were barbaric, yet they seemed to possess order. They trusted and relied on one another.

I quietly lifted my brush and wrote.

The moment I finished writing those characters, I realized it.

I’ve become part of this place too.

There was no turning back now. This place was hell. But it was a slightly warm hell.

I focused on the bamboo slips again. I would do the work I could do. I would fulfill the responsibilities I had been given. The Black Mountain Army needed me. Or perhaps I, too, was slowly being dyed by the madness of the Black Mountain Army.

By midday, when the sunlight grew even stronger, I stood outside the tent. I slowly looked down at the bustling Black Mountain soldiers. I had left the bamboo slip organization to Do Eung and his people and was once again inspecting the troops.

“Lord Jang Yeon.”

So-yeon came running, breathing hard.

“What is it?” I asked indifferently.

“The Grand Administrator of Taishan, Zhang Ju… has secretly sent a messenger.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Zhang Ju?”

Just hearing the name made my brow furrow on its own. Zhang Ju, the Grand Administrator of Taishan. In name he held the title, but even amid the chaos in Yanzhou and Xuzhou he had only cared about protecting himself. He had known full well that the Black Mountain Army controlled Taishan yet had pretended not to notice.

“Why now?”

“Well…” So-yeon hesitated for a moment. “According to the rumors that have reached us… Yellow Turban remnants still remain in Jizhou, Qingzhou, and Youzhou. Especially in Jizhou, there are signs of unusual movement.”

I crossed my arms and nodded.

Jizhou, huh…

Jizhou was still an unstable region. Although the main Yellow Turban force had been destroyed, remnants survived and were causing trouble everywhere.

“What does that have to do with us right now?”

“Zhang Ju…” So-yeon spoke carefully. “Has joined hands with a man named Zhang Shun, a close friend of his, and is planning to raise troops.”

“...What?”

This was completely out of nowhere. The bastard who hadn’t moved his troops even when the Yellow Turbans were running wild, the one who only protected his own position, was suddenly doing this? And who the hell was this Zhang Shun? Some nobody?

“Then why did he send someone to me?”

“That is…” So-yeon hesitated again. “He claims to possess the ‘Mandate of Heaven’ and has sent word asking us to rise up with him.”

I burst out laughing.

“Puhahaha, the Mandate of Heaven?”

The will of Heaven. The types of people who spoke of such things fell into three categories: madmen, ambitious schemers, or both.

“What Mandate of Heaven does a madman have?” I muttered, twisting my lips. “So where is this messenger Zhang Ju sent?”

“Yu Byeok is dealing with him right now.”

I slowly turned my body.

“Bring him here.”

“Yes, Lord Jang Yeon.”

So-yeon bowed and withdrew. I took a deep breath.

I already have so much to do, fuck. Is there not a single quiet day?

This was the period when the Black Mountain Army was planting its roots in Xuzhou and Yanzhou. Xuzhou was still in chaos, the suppression of the Yellow Turbans in Yanzhou was not yet complete, and Yangzhou remained in constant turmoil. And now Zhang Ju of Taishan was talking about the “Mandate of Heaven” at this very moment.

Still, if I handle this well… it might be different from the original Jang Yeon of history. I might get to blow my own trumpet for once.

I smiled faintly and slowly interlaced my fingers. The black banners of the Black Mountain Army drank in the sunlight.