Three Thousand Realms

By Seb Cielens

At the Dragon’s Gate, the White Lotus warriors are shattered by Cheng’s mercenaries. Grandfather Ran, founder of the society, has passed his last breath, leaving Kyetsu as the new leader. There will be little time to learn if he has what it takes. Across the Yellow Sea, the Kingdom of Joseon has descended into chaos. The fate of more than just a dynasty is at stake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: NewLink Publishing
• Release date: May 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781948266772

Seb Cielens

Seb Cielens is a South Australian writer and teacher who has immersed himself in Asian culture and history since he was a child. His stories recount the turmoil of life in late imperial Korea and China, weaving hundreds of hours of historical research into vivid and inspiring fictional tales. After training in Chinese, Japanese and Korean martial arts for much of his life, Seb began putting it together with his passion for writing.Seb holds a Master of Arts in Writing and Literature and a Bachelor of Education. White Lotus is his first novel, with The Golden Drum and Three Thousand Realms coming soon to complete The Tripitaka Chronicles.

Book preview

After traversing the northern lands of the Qing Empire, Kyetsu and his companions arrive at the Dragon’s Gate, where they are reunited with long-lost family. The homecoming is cut short when triad boss Cheng I descends on the grottoes with an overwhelming force, laying waste to the ancient statues and decimating the White Lotus warriors who live there. With Shen dead and Yun-li captured, their cause seems utterly lost.

Across the Yellow Sea, King Sunjo is in trouble. Gwon Sang-Ha is in control of the capital, ready to do Cheng’s bidding. The young king is isolated and powerless. Desperate to see first-hand the problems wracking his kingdom, he makes a daring escape. He stumbles upon the very people who are trying to help restore the throne. The orphan Nari takes Sunjo under her wing, showing him the terrible corruption and vice resulting from the opium trade. Freedom is cut short, however, when Sim Hwanji manages to track down the pair in an abandoned brewery. The former prime minister is out for revenge.

With so much at stake, the White Lotus warriors will need to recover their strength—and do it quickly. Far more than a dynasty depends on their success.

CHAPTER ONE

Kyongsin Year (1800 CE)

Gyeonggi Bay

In the steamy afternoon in late summer, Cheng’s ship glided on the calm waters of the bay. The triad boss tasted the salty air, knowing it would be his last for some time. The pleasant voyage had him lamenting just how little time he spent at sea these days. Twelve ships made the voyage across the Yellow Sea, riding low with his best warriors and, of course, the prisoner.

The Joseon Navy, master, the captain announced.

Cheng had already spied the fleet through his telescope. It was an intimidating sight, and he knew all too well the power of the turtle ships. He counted nine, though certainly more were lying in wait in one of the many nearby bays.

Stay the course, Cheng said, his blood rising at the prospect of a close encounter.

The lead turtle ship turned starboard, and the others did the same.

At least they do not intend on ramming me.

Cheng’s ships had a distinct advantage now. His superior cannons would shred the enemy to pieces if it came to that. If the turtle ships were bent on collision, however, that would be a different matter. He had witnessed many a fine ship plunged beneath the waves—the hull pierced by the dragon head at the bow.

The immediate threat had passed. The triad boss knew, however, there would be many more to come before he was able to turn his back on this cursed land and sail home to his island fortress in Hong Kong.

Make for the channel.

They sailed north to the mouth of the Han River, a heading that would take them to the doorstep of the capital. It was a risky plan, Cheng well knew. They could be bottled up, with little room to maneuver. It was more appealing than the alternative, however, which was a long day’s march overland to the capital, with a crossing of the Han to contend with.

Plenty of time for Gwon to try any number of tricks.

"A cup of baijiu," he called. It was too fine an evening not to enjoy a drink above deck. He could stay here all night, staring at the moonless sky and listening to the waves lap against the bow.

A servant returned with a flask and cup. He filled the cup with the white spirit and bowed low as he extended it to his master.

Forgive me, said the servant, but Madam wishes to know if she will be joining you.

Cheng’s buoyant mood vanished instantly. He glared. I should throttle him for such impudence. He had kept Mei at arm’s length, or rather below deck, for the entirety of the voyage. She must be desperate if she is begging to see me.

Cheng was not entirely sure why he had gone to such trouble to avoid his consort. She was still as beautiful as the day he first cast eyes upon her. But something was not right, not since she had defied him at the Dragon’s Gate. She had begged him to stop the cannon barrage of the ancient statues. He still had not decided if her actions showed weakness or great spirit. Either way, he didn’t like it, and keeping her at arm’s length had only given him time to stew.

Not tonight.

He would not let her spoil such a perfect evening of solitude. The attendant bowed and withdrew. Cheng tipped a good dram of spirits onto the deck. Never forget to show gratitude, lest the Heavens turn against me. He took a sip, savoring the infused dragon fruit, unmistakably native to the Guangxi region.

The night was old when the ship found the mouth of the Han, its calm surface reflecting a blanket of stars. In just a few hours they would be in Hanseong, where his future would be determined. For better or for worse. The tranquil rocking of the ship, along with the remainder of the flask, was enough to send him into a blissful sleep.

Admiral Lu’s ship had long since dropped anchor by the time Cheng awoke to the sound of the captain barking orders. The morning air was fresh, thanks to a blustery wind that fluttered the sails like a thousand birds in flight. The crew moved in perfect synchronicity. The sails were furled in no time and the ship bobbed placidly in the middle of the river.

Three ships maintained their sails in case something went awry, perhaps an untimely reappearance of the turtle ships. So began the slow work of ferrying warriors to shore. By noon, a small army was assembled on the bank of the river. Their uniforms were brightly colored, steel weapons glistening in the sun. His triad force, Cheng mused, would be the envy of any ruler.

There was no sign of the Joseon banner armies, but they were out there, somewhere. Their spies would report every detail of Cheng’s arrival down to the condition of their shoes. Now we will see what you are made of, Gwon Sang-Ha. Cheng’s own intelligence convinced him that the Joseon banner armies were in disarray. He was banking on it.

Lu was waiting when he stepped ashore. The admiral wore a scowl that made him look like a fishmonger. Lu was not a man given to such great gambles. But, Cheng thought, he is not the boss.

Did someone piss on your dumplings? Cheng jibed.

We must find the opium, Lu said, ignoring the remark. The admiral scanned their surroundings while listening to his master.

Cheng wondered if the man had even heard him. You need to learn to relax.

Gwon will be moving it right now.

You must understand. This is no longer just about opium, Cheng said.

Lu’s eyes narrowed, but he did not voice further objection. He had repeatedly counseled against doing business across the Yellow Sea. But they were long past that point. If Lu had his way, they would sail back to Hong Kong and never return. Cheng had other plans, grand designs that sprang from the same well that had led them across the vast lands of the Qing Empire—do battle with the White Lotus warriors and devote weeks to fruitless searching for the Third Treasure. It was all for the woodblocks…for power.

Cheng would still be searching the grottoes but for a report that Gwon’s first payment of silver was not forthcoming. If the third woodblock was in those remote western mountains, it would have to remain there for the time being. They had left a small contingent to continue the search.

Why is she disembarking? the admiral said, gazing at one of the beached sampans. Escorted under guard, Yun-li struggled against her bonds, bound so tightly she had to be lifted out of the boat. Cheng studied the girl. It was easy to see the flame that burned inside of her, stronger than ever.

Her spirit is indomitable. The pirate realized he was clenching his jaw.

I like to keep a close eye on her, Cheng said, taking a small degree of pleasure in unsettling the admiral.

She would be safer aboard.

You never had much of a mind for business, Cheng said. He had not made it to where he was by acting out of fear. The girl had considerable value. He just had to work out the best way of exploiting it.

The admiral shook his head and spat. I don’t like it.

Lu was becoming an irritation, like a fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing around his face. Let us not waste any more time on matters already put to rest. I have a kingdom to plunder.

Cheng walked to his sedan chair and climbed aboard. Mei’s chair waited a short distance behind. The curtains were drawn but he knew she was watching him. He could feel her dagger-like gaze.

The road into the city was deserted, and Cheng understood why. The appearance of a foreign army typically meant only one thing, and that was ruin. It was not until they came into view of the city wall that the first sign of trouble surfaced. A detachment of Joseon cavalry blocked the Great South Gate, not large enough to be a threat, but Cheng knew there could be a whole army beyond the walls. Admiral Lu pushed on, as they had agreed. Do not show these dogs a hint of weakness.

The Joseon cavalry, well-trained and disciplined, stood firm. As they drew closer, a confrontation seemed inevitable. They were less than one hundred paces away when the cavalry officer gave the order, and his men retreated through the gateway. The way was open to the Changdeok Palace.

They marched on the palace. He expected Gwon to make a stand before they arrived. The question is, do you have the spine for it?

Cheng had heard many reports of the Battle of Changdeok Palace. Would there be a second battle? If there was, would the result be so favorable?

Sumunjang guards paraded in front of the gates, and a few sentries manned the gatehouse, a day like any other.

The triad army came to a halt and three of Cheng’s officers, led by Admiral Lu, marched forward to meet the commander of the guards.

A parley commenced. Messages were relayed to the palace. Cheng was beginning to lose patience, when the admiral withdrew abruptly and returned to the head of the column.

What is the hold up? Cheng said, drumming the arm of the chair.

Their orders are to keep the palace closed.

Orders from whom?

They will not say.

Gwon, he muttered.

His instincts never failed him, but one couldn’t be too sure. It was not hard to imagine King Sunjo in charge once again, under the guiding hand of the regent, Lady Chongsun. If that were the case, they were likely walking straight into a trap.

Tell whoever we are negotiating with that if I am not received into the palace at once, I will consider it a great personal insult.

Lu bowed and returned to the negotiations. The sun had almost climbed to its full blistering height when the admiral returned.

The prime minister permits your entry along with an escort of four unarmed officers. He insists the rest of the army is to retreat to a distance of five li from the palace walls.

The prime minister? Cheng roared, spittle flying. "Who does Gwon think he is, dictating terms to me?"

Lu shrugged. I told you so, seemed to be the implication. Cheng seethed.

What is your response?

Cheng weighed his options, giving his blood time to cool. He could overwhelm the palace guards, but what would it cost, and where would it leave him? On foreign soil and a long way from home. The Joseon cavalry were close at hand, and who knew what other forces lurked unseen. It would be easy for things to unravel if he did not tread carefully.

There is no need to insult anyone, Cheng said. "At least for the moment. Tell Gwon that I look forward to our reunion with great anticipation."

Lu relayed the answer to the guard commander. It was the hour of the monkey by the time all was in place and the palace gates swung open. Cheng walked past brightly adorned warriors, armed to the teeth. If this were, in fact, some sort of trap, Gwon had played a cool game. But the old pirate knew better than anyone that you must be prepared to gamble if you want to win.

Cheng could feel the burning hatred in the eyes of the Joseon warriors. They would slaughter his retinue in blind fury if given half a chance. All it would take is one man to break ranks, one insult leveled, for a bloodbath to ensue.

They passed the throne hall where the Phoenix Throne perched, resplendent in its vibrant colors and intricate carvings. For all its magnificence, however, the throne was empty. The next building was not quite as impressive. Several warriors stood guard outside. Gwon Sang-Ha sat alone in the center of the hall. Cheng’s escort remained outside, as the triad boss ascended the stairs into the cold building. Drawing closer to the newly appointed prime minister, Cheng was shocked by what he saw.

Gwon’s eyes were hooded and dark. His skin had the pallor of a carp’s belly. His shrunken chest accentuated a pear-shaped mid-section. He was a shadow of the man Cheng remembered from when they had met years ago on Jeju Island. Gwon had been hungry and tenacious, someone worthy of doing business with. They had come to an agreement then, to be of mutual benefit to one another. This was not the same man.

Cheng locked eyes with Gwon, until the poor man averted his gaze. The triad boss paused for a long moment before taking a seat. He did not deign to bow.

Welcome to Joseon, Gwon said in Cantonese. Cheng’s skin crawled. It was of course his native tongue, but it was the language of peasants and fishermen. For a man extending his reach across kingdoms and empires, only Mandarin would do.

There are some things you have been keeping from me, Cheng said. Secrets, if you want to call them that.

He kept his accusation intentionally vague. Let him think I know everything, then see what he divulges.

I don’t know what you mean, Gwon said. He sounded sincere, but Cheng could sense deceit lurking just below the surface, along with a healthy dose of fear. I have kept you informed of everything.

"Tell me about this boy king? Is he… cooperating?"

With each passing moment, Cheng’s confidence grew. He was far from safe and had every reason to expect that Gwon would lash out like a cornered animal. Still, he sensed the wind at his back.

What do you mean? Gwon mumbled.

An old politician like Gwon would try every trick to avoid a trap. But Cheng had spies in the palace. He knew every detail of what had happened. It was important to make the prime minister sweat.

You know exactly what I am referring to, Cheng said. Gwon blinked—his inner turmoil clear for Cheng to see. Gwon’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

Come, Cheng said, softer now, like a father to a son. Tell me everything.

Sunjo…he... Gwon lowered his head. The air seemed to have gone out of the man.

He what?

...escaped, the crestfallen prime minister said, his voice cracking.

The floodgates opened. Gwon went on to recount the events of the king’s disappearance, portraying himself as a hapless victim of circumstance. Cheng remained calm, but just below the surface, he was seething. King Sunjo was a vital piece in his plan, the most vital piece, apart from the woodblocks. His disappearance put everything at risk.

So, Cheng said, when the tale had been told. I have to drop everything and come all this way to sort it out. The pirate’s expression turned darker, his loathing for the prime minister on full display. I thought you were someone I could trust to look after my affairs here.

He will be back on the throne in no time.

Cheng was not so sure that he still wanted Sunjo on the throne, but that could be decided later. His original plan had been for stability, a weak king under Gwon’s control. The long journey had got him thinking of other possibilities. A king on the run, however, out of his reach, that was not part of any plan.

And what makes you so sure of that?

Sim Hwanji will find him.

Cheng’s spirits plunged. He was under the impression that Sim was in prison, the only place he could be safely accounted for. It seemed there were limits to the reach of his spies.

Do you really think you can trust a man like Sim?

If he wishes to see his niece again.

Cheng brightened but kept his cautious optimism to himself. Perhaps you have not lost all your mettle, prime minister.

Let us move onto other matters, Cheng said. Gwon nodded eagerly.

Where is my silver? Cheng had a wicked glint in his eyes. Gwon seemed to shrink another inch.

Silver?

Do we have to go through this farce again? Cheng watched his prey carefully. Desperate men make desperate decisions. Keep a foot on his throat.

You mean payment for the opium? Gwon’s voice squeaked.

"Yes. Fifty thousand jin of opium."

I meant to pay you.

Of course you did, Cheng said. That is the problem, wouldn’t you agree?

I can get it to you.

That is reassuring news. There will be a fee for keeping me waiting, you understand?

What sort of fee?

We can discuss that later. There was one last matter to settle, the most critical of all. Cheng’s heart raced. What if he is playing me? Cheng’s spies had already failed him on one count. It could easily be two. Bring me the woodblock.

Gwon was sweating like a deckhand. Right away.

Gwon waved, and an attendant hurried off. Cheng felt a wave of excitement. With two of the Three Treasures in his possession, he would feel much better about having come all this way. Gwon was smiling now, like a dog retrieving a bird for its master. The triad boss’s contempt was tempered, however, by the prospect of possessing the woodblock.

The servant returned carrying a red silk bundle. He bowed and handed it to Gwon, who brimmed with delight when he passed it to Cheng. The triad boss cradled it tenderly. Moments like this were few and far between, he knew all too well. It was important to savor them.

When he was ready, Cheng carefully unwrapped the woodblock and read the Sanskrit text in silence. He had studied the language for this very purpose.

They will see the whole Three Thousand Realms, the exposed and hidden Mount Meru, Mount Sumeru, the Iron Circle Mountains, and all the other mountains and forests.

Cheng pondered the first verse, looking for any hint of meaning. But it was alien to him. He continued.

The pains of the multitudes in purgatory, the sound of hungry spirits driven by hunger and thirst, the teachers and transformers of living beings, can all be heard by one who embraces the dharma flower.

Cheng ran his hand over the surface of the woodblock, as if that would somehow unlock its secrets. He noticed some symbols he had not seen at first. A dragon and lotus. There was nothing of the sort on the woodblock he already possessed, and