254.
The Shadow of the Great Way — Arrows of Politics, the Hand of the Shadow Guard
It was a dawn in Gaegyeong after the rain had stopped.
A sealed bundle of documents addressed to the Office of the Censorate arrived in haste within the palace.
The red seal ink had not yet dried, and upon the cover was written in clear script:
Report on the Events Before and After the Hwajuh Affair.
Yi In-jung stepped forward and presented the documents to the king.
The king accepted them without a word.
At the moment the seal was broken, the air in the audience chamber subtly sank.
Hwajuh Nangjang Park Seong-jin is young and ignorant of administrative propriety;
rather than soothing the people, he suppressed them by force;
lacking political maturity prior to military judgment, he brought disorder upon himself.
Each sentence was polished to read like fact.
The suppression he led caused damage beyond necessity;
public sentiment remains unstable;
there exist numerous instances in which he misinterpreted superior commands and mishandled affairs.
The king set the document down.
As the silence lengthened, the smell of ink seemed to grow heavier.
"Who submitted this report?"
Yi In-jung bowed his head.
"It was Wan'an Deuk-ro, Vice Commissioner of the Liaodong Branch Secretariat."
"Wan'an Deuk-ro…"
The king's eyes narrowed.
"He is not one of ours."
"No, Your Majesty. He handled Yuan's routine affairs and belongs to Empress Ki's line."
The king's fingers pressed against the edge of the paper.
The document gave a faint tremor.
"That means… Beijing is making an issue of this."
"Yes, Your Majesty. And—"
Yi In-jung paused.
He knew the words to follow would lower the temperature of the chamber even further.
"Behind this lies the hand of the Shadow Guard."
The Shadow Guard.
At the name, the air in the chamber visibly cooled.
It was the empress's private organization—
those who cut men with blades and cut legitimacy with documents.
"You are saying they orchestrated the Hwajuh revolt?"
"There is no direct proof.
However, the structure of this report follows the Shadow Guard's method.
They do not alter facts; they alter interpretation,
driving the conclusion toward 'the failure of governance by a young commander.'"
The king exhaled slowly.
"Park Seong-jin is a meritorious subject.
He swept away Ki Cheol's remnants and held Hwajuh."
"And that is precisely why he was targeted," Yi In-jung replied, his voice firm.
"As long as he remains, Hwajuh will not return to imperial hands.
So they seek to cut him down first with pretext."
The king's gaze wavered for a moment.
"An enemy who comes with steel can be blocked.
But one who comes with words and paper gnaws at the bones of a state."
Yi In-jung produced another sealed letter and offered it up.
"Your Majesty, this is a report submitted directly by Jungnangjang Park."
The king broke the seal.
Unadorned handwriting met his eyes.
The turmoil in Hwajuh is my responsibility.
Yet the people are no longer beaten in the name of the Empire.
I ask only that the nation endure long after my name is forgotten.
For a long while, the king could not look away.
At last he folded the letter and held it in his hand.
"Seong-jin is a fighter.
But this battle is not one of swords.
It is a battle of documents."
The king raised his head.
"This fight—
I will take it on."
At the same hour, in Dadu.
In the northern corridor of the empress's main hall, a man in black silk knelt.
He was the master of the Shadow Guard, the Sa-yeong.
"Ki Cheol's revenge is not yet finished,"
the empress said, her voice cold as ice.
"The commander of Hwajuh still lives, does he not?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. However—"
"However?"
At her interruption, the air itself seemed to snap.
Sweat beaded on Sa-yeong's brow.
"The Shadow Guard's reach has stretched too far.
The southern campaigns, the Huai River rebellion, the movements of Goryeo envoys—
our forces are spread thin."
"Excuses."
The empress rose from her seat.
Her silk hem brushed the floor with a dry sound.
"As long as he lives, the Empire will mock me."
Her gaze pierced Sa-yeong.
"Erase him—
with documents if you must, with blades if you can."
Sa-yeong bowed deeply.
"I obey."
Yet his eyes trembled faintly.
The Shadow Guard had already been torn across too many fronts.
What remained were only a few shadows.
This is not the Empire's command,
he muttered inwardly.
It is the Shadow Guard's revenge.
But his lips once more answered, "Yes."
The shadow over Dadu was growing long.
It now stretched beyond Hwajuh, toward the very heart of Gaegyeong.
Debate in the Court — Voices Weighing Merit and Fault
The main hall of Gaegyeong.
Even before the cold winds of Nabwol—the twelfth lunar month—could reach it,
the air of the court was already frozen.
The king sat upon the throne.
On either side stood ministers, historians, officials of the Royal Academy, and the Censorate, packed tightly together.
Their words were restrained, but their gazes were honed like blades.
A single lapse could invite a strike to the heart.
There was only one agenda that day:
Hwajuh Jungnangjang Park Seong-jin—merit or fault?
The Minister of Rites spoke first.
"Your Majesty, the youth's martial achievements are unquestionable.
He drove out Ki Cheol's faction and repelled Jurchen incursions.
In military merit, he is beyond reproach."
He paused to steady his breath.
"However, strategy and governance are not the same.
To seat one not yet twenty as Jungnangjang defies precedent.
Law exists not for individual talent, but for the order of the realm."
An official from the Ministry of Personnel followed immediately.
"Excessive promotion sets dangerous examples.
If superiors are bypassed for one man, who will prevent the next exception?"
Voices from the civil officials overlapped.
"A young general is a calamity."
"A fire that burns too fast soon turns to ash."
"What the realm needs now is not the sword, but ritual."
"As the power of warriors grows, the Way of the court wavers."
Their words were measured, their phrasing refined.
Yet beneath them lay clear fears—
—that one man's rising merit might eclipse royal authority and order.
—that the king's favor toward that man might be laid bare.
Then a voice cut through the hall.
"Have any of you ever stood on a battlefield?"
All turned.
Jungnangjang Yi In-jung had risen.
He bent one knee and spoke.
"Park Seong-jin is a man who guarded the nation with his blade.
Without his merit, half those seated here would already be officials of the Empire."
He turned his gaze upon the civil officials.
"His youth is not a crime.
His father fell in war, and the elder brother who took his place also fell.
That is why the young one went to the battlefield, and why he still fights today.
For such a family's sacrifice, the Goryeo court ought to give thanks—
yet instead you seek to drag him down by faulting his age."
The Minister of Rites smiled faintly.
"General, your words go too far.
There is a reason the law counts years.
Youth is not a sin, but it may lead to unwise decisions."
He chose the safest edge of his blade.
"And… is not the Hwajuh rebellion proof of that?"
The breath in the hall thinned.
"The city burned, and the dead number in the hundreds.
If this is the fruit of governance, who bears responsibility?"
Yi In-jung closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.
"Hwajuh burned not from the greed of the people,
but from the pain of shedding a hundred years of order at once.
The instigators were those who had grown fat during the days of the Ssangseong Command.
The Jungnangjang merely bore that pain.
Those who lit the fires were others—
and he stepped into the flames himself."
A few younger officials nodded quietly.
Then an elder minister raised his hand toward the king.
"Your Majesty, if law is crossed for the sake of merit,
that is a calamity greater than rebellion itself.
The moment order is shaken for one man, the foundation of the state collapses."
The hall fell silent, as though it had swallowed its breath.
Only the historian's brush trembled faintly upon the page.
At last, the king spoke.
"All of your words are right."
Then he continued.
"But what I saw was different.
Park Seong-jin fought not an enemy, but the hearts of men.
I have personally read reports that he spared lives rather than took them.
If we diminish merit because of youth,
we are no longer judging merit—we are judging by fear."
The king looked at Yi In-jung.
"To punish one who endured a century's pain
is to sicken a nation already ill."
The air in the hall changed.
"Park Seong-jin shall retain his post as Hwajuh Jungnangjang.
Furthermore, by royal command, he shall assume the duty of Gyogwan."
A collective breath was drawn.
"Let him teach the Way to warriors, and the law to the people."
Yi In-jung dropped to his knees and bowed deeply.
"Loyalty!"
The pronouncement left no room for further objection.
The civil officials could speak no more.
The king concluded,
"A sword is not for killing people.
It is for saving them.
I trust him."
As Yi In-jung stepped out of the hall, a smile touched his lips for the first time in a long while.
The boy's struggle was not yet over.
But today, he had survived politics.
Clouds covered the palace roof,
yet a single beam of sunlight brushed the eaves, pointing south.