538
The Haeju Choi Clan —
The Heart of Aristocratic Power, Choosing Force
The second house was the Haeju Choi clan.
In Goryeo, they ranked second in stature.
Four meritorious subjects enshrined in the royal shrine.
Queens and Grand State Ladies born of the line.
Four men who had risen to Munhasi-jung (Chief Councillor).
They were the maternal clan of Yi Ja-gyeom and the in-laws of King Injong.
The core of the Ten Great Houses.
The very heart of aristocratic power.
The gate of the Haeju Choi estate differed in kind from that of the Namyang Hong.
Where the Hong gate bore the weight of tradition and dignity, the Choi gate was force itself.
As if expecting Park Seong-jin's arrival, dozens of armed private soldiers were already deployed before the main gate.
Their armor was standardized.
Spear points aligned.
Bowstrings drawn halfway.
They had chosen resistance and stood ready in formation.
A gate guard roared,
"Stop! Take another step and we fire!"
Park Seong-jin did not slow.
Song I-sul stepped forward and shouted,
"By royal command—open the way!"
The reply came back even clearer.
"If it is royal command, bring the writ."
"We will not open the gate for Park Seong-jin alone."
Spear tips rose in unison.
Among the Ten Great Houses, only the Choi clan showed their refusal so openly—in arms and formation.
Park Seong-jin murmured low,
"So. You're choosing force."
From atop the gate, the commander dropped his hand.
"Fire."
Bowstrings sang as one.
Dozens of arrows spread like a web and poured down over the martial unit.
At that instant, Park Seong-jin took a single step forward.
His presence exploded like a storm.
The flow of air inverted; the arrows lost their paths.
More than half veered sideways mid-flight, the rest struck the ground without force.
Those that remained bounced off the warriors' armor and fell away.
Park Seong-jin accelerated.
The Choi private soldiers charged.
Private troops of a Ten Great House were no match for common levies.
Their swords, spears, and shields were superior.
Their formation lived.
A small army—better equipped and better trained than most Goryeo units.
Song I-sul shouted low,
"Left—"
Park Seong-jin was already faster.
Two spears lunged for his throat at once.
He tilted his jaw by a hair, letting one slide past.
The other he snapped with the edge of his hand.
The shaft broke; the soldier's wrist twisted.
Two more attacked from behind—one with shield, one with blade.
Park Seong-jin received the shield lightly, redirected the force, and shoved.
The shield-bearer flew backward and rolled.
The blade cut for his waist; he answered with a single elbow.
A jaw broke; the man collapsed.
A hundred of the Choi elite poured out through the gate.
"U-formation!"
"Set the front wall!"
"Encircle—"
The orders never finished.
Park Seong-jin punched straight into the center.
He elbowed the left shieldman down.
Cut the right attack with a low kick to the ankle.
Swept aside three spearmen ahead with a single turn of his body.
Spear tips split empty air.
Five who rushed from behind were beaten back by sheer pressure.
All five slammed into the wall and slid down together.
It took less than thirty seconds.
Twenty were incapacitated.
Yet Park Seong-jin's movement never broke.
He severed breath, joints, balance—
and touched only the precise points that ended the fight.
A Choi captain shouted,
"Fall back—reform the line—"
At that moment, Park Seong-jin placed his palm on the main gate.
Boom.
One entire leaf tore free and crashed inward into the courtyard.
The frame shuddered; iron fittings rained down.
The soldiers' eyes widened in terror.
"The gate— the gate—"
"Is that even human?"
With the gate breached, the head of the Haeju Choi clan burst out from inside.
His whole body trembled.
To cling to dignity, he raised his voice.
"What madness is this—do you know where you stand—"
Park Seong-jin walked slowly between the fallen soldiers.
That slow pace was the most threatening thing of all.
Those who fight rush; those who win choose.
At the sight, the clan head's legs buckled.
As if crushed by invisible weight, he staggered—then his knees struck the stone.
"Enough."
"You have won."
Tears bled into his final words.
"We submit."
"We will dissolve the private troops, surrender the land lists—everything."
Park Seong-jin stopped before him.
"If you meant to resist, you should have done it properly."
"This barely deserves the name."
The courtyard lay strewn with fallen soldiers, broken spears, shattered shields.
The gate sagged half-collapsed.
Park Seong-jin turned his back.
"Next house."
Song I-sul drew a breath.
"My lord… I did not think you would go this far—"
Park Seong-jin answered curtly.
"They chose force."
"So I answered with force."
The moment combat ended, he issued processing orders without pause.
"All private soldiers transferred to military custody."
"Armory sealed."
"Account rooms sealed."
"Slave registers submitted immediately."
Soldiers—fallen or standing—were all led away under officers' guard.
In that instant, the clan lost the power to wield private arms.
Park Seong-jin addressed the slaves evenly.
"From this moment, all of you are free."
"No one remains here."
The clan head cried out in panic,
"Wait— they handle the household—"
Park Seong-jin cut him off.
"Slaves are subjects of the state."
The man could say no more.
Hundreds of freed slaves filed out of the estate, faces tangled with confusion and tears.
That quiet procession etched the clan's collapse more clearly than any shout.
Park Seong-jin gestured to the clan head.
"All land deeds."
The man tried to resist, weeping.
"Much of that land was granted for ancestral service to the realm."
"It was rightful reward."
Park Seong-jin cut him off at once.
"Granted land follows the same standard."
"Unclear origin—confiscated."
"Weak proof—confiscated."
"Failure to justify encroachment—stripped."
Documents piled like a small mountain.
With trembling hands, the clan head pressed his seal again and again.
Each stamp bled away another measure of the house's power.
By that afternoon, the scene had already spread across Gaegyeong.
Kinsmen, captains of private troops, errand runners, and low officials glimpsed it and scattered like startled birds.
That day, two kinds of whispers moved through aristocratic quarters.
"Report first to the Jeonmin Byeonjeong Dogam if you want to live."
"Kneel before Park Seong-jin arrives."
"Meet him with force and it's over."
"But we are still the Ten Great Houses."
"Will the king really turn all of us into enemies?"
Yet every sentence ended with ashen faces.
They spoke of pride and battle while already sensing defeat.
As Park Seong-jin moved west through Gaegyeong, he said,
"Those who cling to illusions—I go to them."
"Those who bow their heads—hand them to Yun Dam."
Song I-sul answered briefly,
"Yes."
That single day, some of the Ten Great Houses were shattered by force,
and the rest, one by one, lost their nerve and prostrated themselves before Yun Dam.
Centuries of noble lineage and aristocratic pride
crumbled swiftly before a single man
who had crossed too many battlefields to be impressed by names.