541.
A period of adaptation to the new order began.
After the fall of the Ten Great Clans, the aristocratic society of Gaegyeong resembled a pond that had been flipped over once.
The surface appeared calm, but the current at the bottom had completely changed.
Until then, the aristocracy had stood at the center of the court, held real military power, and owned the land.
The king had been perceived as a figure close to a symbol.
The structure now was clearly different.
The king issued commands, Yoon Dam established procedures, the Jeonminbyeonjeongdogam handled organization, and Park Seong-jin enforced them.
Once these four pillars locked together, the calculations of the aristocrats were quickly settled.
If they did not submit, their clans would end.
If they resisted, they would reach ruin.
Following along solidified as the only viable solution.
Some clans came forward late with voluntary declarations.
They brought their land registers themselves and stood in line at the government office.
Those who had put dignity first just the day before now held seals in sweat-soaked hands before the office gates.
One aristocrat muttered in a low voice.
"Now, defying the king is the same as defying Park Seong-jin."
That single line revealed the core of the new order.
The aristocrats whispered of him as a butcher or a man of war.
Even so, the moment his shadow fell across the end of the corridor, their breath caught first.
Once, a clan member shouted inside the office,
"This land is our family's honor—!"
When Park Seong-jin began walking slowly from the end of the corridor, the shout broke off halfway.
The rest of the words circulated only at drinking tables.
Before Park Seong-jin, they froze in the throat.
This fear, paradoxically, worked as a sense of safety for the common people.
As the aristocrats quietly submitted, the possibility of rebellion and civil war sharply decreased.
When disputes arose, these men had previously saved themselves privately.
They had used force.
Each day, the king reviewed the reports submitted to the court and the commissions: records of land recovery and restoration of status.
Through this process, he came to realize anew the nature of the reform.
Yoon Dam, at the center of operations, brought order to the officials of the commission.
"If it cannot be proven, confiscate it."
"Those forcibly made slaves are to be emancipated immediately."
"Private soldiers are to be transferred to the military registry."
Most of the rapid land accumulation had been carried out through violence.
The king's land became their land, and the people's land also became their land.
Contracts were rare, and when they existed, they were unequal agreements enforced by power.
Once Park Seong-jin opened the path, policy advanced as if riding a waterway.
As confusion and confiscation entered full operation, new problems emerged.
Land disputes.
Hidden documents.
Forgery of noble records.
Alteration of slave status.
Shifting of responsibility among aristocrats.
The existing manpower of the Jeonminbyeonjeongdogam could not keep up with the pace.
The king gave Yoon Dam a clear order.
"Call in more capable young scholars.
Gather enough strength to untangle the documents entwined in every household."
When new personnel were brought in, the reform became more precise and faster.
The problem was not the number of people.
The problem was the structure itself, which had prevented people from working.
Where time had been dragged out, real practical work now entered.
The king empowered the young officials.
They were armed with Neo-Confucianism and burned with a sense of mission to set the state upright and ease the lives of the people.
Even so, there were points that inevitably had to be pressed by force.
Clans that refused to submit documents.
Groups that hid weapons and resisted.
Those who concealed slaves to prevent emancipation.
Aristocrats who tried to bribe officials.
Even corruption within the administration.
Each time, one name was called.
Park Seong-jin.
He did not step fully to the front.
He did not command from the lead like a soldier, nor did he press with shouted authority.
He merely cast his shadow over knots that the Jeonminbyeonjeongdogam could not untie despite long effort.
Then the knots loosened on their own.
Park Seong-jin defined himself this way.
"I am an ignorant man of arms.
I only cut where it must be cut with the sword."
He said he knew his place, and those words functioned as a rule that restrained himself.
Pak, pak, pak, pak, pak—!!!
From a crowd of over a thousand, hundreds screamed at once.
Ahead were silver blades.
Behind fell indiscriminate volleys of arrows.
To the left and right, ambushes by the warrior units unfolded.
The darkness was torn apart in an instant by screams and the stench of blood.
The rebel force could not stop.
If they stopped, they were stabbed from behind.
If they ran, they were cut down from the front.
If they veered left or right, hands emerged from the darkness.
If they hid, arrows rained down.
Only then did they realize.
This was not the road into the palace.
It was a chopping block that shaved people down.
"Put out the torches, out!" someone wailed.
It was already too late.
The moment a light was raised, the eyes that saw that light became targets.
When a torch fell, another was raised.
When a torch rose, arrows poured down again.
That repetition tightened around the rebels' throats.
What echoed in the darkness were not commands.
They were sounds born of fear.
"I can't see ahead."
"Who's shooting, from where?"
"No, there—there."
"There? Where is there?"
Each pointed in a different direction.
As people differed, so did the direction fear indicated.
Then it happened.
From the darkness, a very low voice rang out once.
"Stay."
It was not a loud shout.
It was a low, dry voice that clung to the ear.
Yet that single syllable pierced straight through the courtyard before Sinbong Gate.
Like a nail driven into empty air, it lodged precisely above the noise.
The rebels may not even have realized they heard it.
By the moment of hearing, their bodies had already frozen.
The owner of the voice could not be seen.
Because he could not be seen, the fear grew thicker.
The next moment, the darkness moved.
Srrrk—!
The silver line seen earlier once again cut through the darkness.
This time not on the steps, but through the center of the courtyard.
It passed in a circle, like wind, like a wave.
The front ranks of the rebels collapsed once more.
They did not fall—they were emptied.
The place where people had stood moments before vanished in an instant.
Those pushing from behind reached for the backs of the men ahead and grasped only empty air.
What touched their fingertips was not armor, but void.
"Back, back."
"We can't retreat, they're pushing from behind."
"Then sideways, sideways."
"Where is sideways, it's darkness."
They finally arrived at one conclusion.
This was not a fight.
In a fight, the enemy is visible.
If the enemy is visible, even in death one points a blade.
This was different.
Death arrived first, and only afterward did the reason come, late.