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The Grand Estate of the Namyang Hong Clan —
The Breath of Goryeo's Supreme Lineage
The first house among the Ten Great Houses was the Namyang Hong clan (南陽洪氏).
Its seat lay slightly south of Gaegyeong.
Calling it a "grand estate" was misleading—it was closer to a small fortress.
The outer walls rose high and long like ramparts, and above the main gate hung a plaque heavy with excessive gold leaf.
"Duke of Namyang."
This was not a family that needed explanation.
Honorary titles bestowed by the Founder King stretched to eighteen characters.
Names such as Samjung Daegwang Taesa, Lord Chungjeong, and Scholar Bokryong Hong Mong-ryang lay pressed into the dust beneath the hall floors.
Through the reigns of King Chungnyeol, King Chungsuk, and King Chungseon, this house had continuously occupied the posts of the Secretariat, the Privy Council, the Censorate, the Chumui, and the position of Chief Councillor.
It was a weight of tradition that even a dynasty could not easily shake.
Into that place, Park Seong-jin walked in at dawn with twenty martial men.
The main gate was shut tight.
The private soldiers guarding it turned pale all at once the moment they recognized him.
"That man… from the North Gate last night…"
Park Seong-jin raised a single hand toward them.
"Open it."
They glanced back in agitation, but none could steel themselves.
Warriors understood instinctively how far that man was willing to go.
When Park Seong-jin took one more step toward the gate, even the air inside the walls changed.
It felt as if the breath within the estate was pressed flat all at once.
Then a very light voice fell.
"Open."
The moment the word landed, the guards' legs gave way.
The great gate swung open slowly, without resistance.
A vast courtyard was revealed.
From beyond it, several members of the Hong clan's inner line stepped forward.
Their gait carried the discipline of a household steeped in law and ritual, ancestral names worn like belts around their waists.
The eldest among them looked down at Park Seong-jin.
"Do you know where you are, to knock on this gate?"
Park Seong-jin did not even twitch an eyebrow.
"The house of the Namyang Hong."
The old man snorted.
"If you know that, you should refrain from such reck—"
Before the sentence ended, Park Seong-jin lightly tapped the stone ground with his toe.
The sound was small, but the air rang.
The old man was shoved backward, retreating nearly two steps.
The fact that he did not fall only stripped more dignity away.
His pupils shook violently.
Park Seong-jin spoke in a calm voice.
"You are the ones who refused the king's command.
I have come to confirm it."
One of the Hong clansmen shouted with a trembling voice.
"Are we, the Namyang Hong, meant to fear you alone?"
Park Seong-jin nodded.
"The thing you should fear is not me alone.
It is the choice you made—refusing the king's command."
He walked slowly into the center of the courtyard.
With each step, the clansmen's breathing was pressed down.
The sensation of his approach struck their bodies before their minds.
"You heard it last night.
You were told to come to the North Gate by the first moment of the chen hour."
The old man ground his teeth.
"Our house stood beside the throne from the founding of the dynasty."
Park Seong-jin answered evenly.
"And that is why you grew arrogant.
The dynasty wavered—so land is being corrected, slaves freed, and private armies dissolved to set it upright again."
The wind seemed to stop.
Silence fell.
Park Seong-jin raised his hand and pressed a thin layer of force into the stone ground.
A sharp clang rang out as the stone cracked and one section collapsed inward.
Two private soldiers were thrown backward, gasping for breath.
He did not kill them.
He carved a warning into the earth: move, and you fall.
Park Seong-jin continued.
"I have crossed four battlefields—
Liaodong, Jiangnan, Poyang, the Yangtze.
The number who died there exceeds the private soldiers you command."
The blood drained from the clansmen's faces.
"I did not come to annihilate your lineage.
I came to give you a final chance to obey the king's command."
A brief stillness passed.
Then the second son of the Hong house dropped to his knees first.
"We were wrong."
From him, the motion spread.
Clansmen and private soldiers alike folded their knees, one after another.
A lineage of centuries bowed its head before a single man.
In that moment, Gaegyeong's order was being rewritten.
Park Seong-jin spoke shortly.
"You chose correctly.
Among the ten houses, you are the first to survive."
The old man's hand trembled.
Turning his back, Park Seong-jin issued his orders.
"You will present yourselves at court today.
Your private troops are dissolved and incorporated into the Yongho Guard.
Your slaves are freed—submit the manumission documents.
All records of encroached land are to be surrendered.
Even lands granted by royal favor are no exception."
He added, almost too softly to hear,
"You are still a great house.
I will leave you the minimum measure of dignity.
Do not choose the kind of resistance that collapses beneath my feet."
Only silence remained in the Namyang Hong estate—
the silence that follows a storm.
Why they submitted was never fully spoken.
The pressure of a presence that felt capable of snapping every pillar of the house at once if even one step went astray—
that alone was enough to bring their knees to the ground.