Chapter 364: The Public Trial

Park Deok-hwan thus vanished from the stage of history, disappearing like a meteor streaking across the sky in the tumultuous era of pioneering. He was not deliberately erased. Later historians, even without special permission from the “Ministry of Truth,” could find his final result in the public archives of the Cheka and the Arbitration Court: sentenced to a lifetime of hard labor for corruption of a large amount. The records in the archives ended there. If one were interested in further investigating his whereabouts, they would have to apply to the Ministry of Truth for a mid-level archive access permit. Then, from the vast sea of archives, they could find a death certificate issued by the Hongji Coal Mine Special Labor Office in the fourth year after Park Deok-hwan became a long string of numbers. The cause of death: “accident.”

However, at that point in time, Park Deok-hwan’s arrest and trial caused a great sensation in Jeju. This once-famous former government slave, the Australians’ “Supervisor of Bows and Arrows,” was exposed for accepting a large amount of bribes and having committed serious acts of corruption.

Taking this as an opportunity, a batch of related labor service personnel and local merchants were successively arrested through their connections with Park Deok-hwan. A vigorous anti-corruption campaign was launched.

Since there was no formal court on Jeju Island, only a military tribunal—this military tribunal was not composed of soldiers. Instead, it was a compromise model created by the Arbitration Court to cooperate with the incomplete local institutions during the expansion phase, where the management model was mostly military control. There were few naturalized citizen cadres with legal training, and often, the local situation was ever-changing.

The laws cited were generally based on the Arbitration Court’s existing written laws or precedents. Where there were none, the Yuanlao acting as judges could exercise their discretion, and they were free to use whichever law they saw fit.

From the perspective of “ruling according to law,” such a legal system was extremely crude. Therefore, the Arbitration Court had already issued a notice that they were organizing two teams to go to Jeju Island and Taiwan Island for investigation and to begin drafting the “Basic Law” for both places.

Nangong Wudi temporarily served as the presiding judge, signing batches of verdicts. According to the relevant recommendations of the Arbitration Court, there were only two types of sentences for corruption cases: a certain number of years of hard labor and confiscation of all property. Apart from Park Deok-hwan, most of the people involved in the case were sentenced to varying terms of hard labor of more than three years. Those sentenced to hard labor, regardless of the year, were all sent to serve their sentences in Taiwan, Hainan, or even Vietnam. Those whose crimes were very minor had their property confiscated and were then left in the local area to form a “punishment team,” serving indefinite labor.

To highlight the importance of this movement, the Jeju News not only published a special issue on the case but also held an anti-corruption exhibition at the Confucian temple. The floor of the Dacheng Hall of the Confucian temple was piled high with all kinds of confiscated goods.

Feng Zongze felt that these “stolen goods” were really a bit shabby. The silver and copper coins confiscated from Park Deok-hwan’s residence totaled less than fifty taels, and there were a dozen or so bolts of silk. The other items, such as cotton cloth, furniture, rice, salt… were mostly daily necessities, even including soybean paste.

“This is also considered stolen goods?” Feng Zongze couldn’t help but comment after looking around. “Just this stuff? At least they should have tied up Jang Seong-seol and put her here. I think she’s worth something.”

“When a group of people are starving to death, those who have enough to eat are the powerful. Whether it’s corrupt or not depends on the overall material level,” Nangong Wudi said. “Not to mention a border prefecture of the Joseon Dynasty like Jeju Island, how much wealth can the powerful of the Joseon Dynasty have? Haven’t you been to South Korea and visited that so-and-so royal palace? That house is at the level of a medium-sized landlord’s courtyard in an underdeveloped area of the Ming Dynasty. You can’t say that the person living in it doesn’t deserve to be called the King of Joseon.”

“You’re right, but it just feels so shabby,” Feng Zongze said.

“We think it’s shabby, but the people of the Joseon Dynasty think it’s very rich,” Nangong Wudi said, looking at his watch and asking in a low voice, “Is the action about to begin?”

“It will start on time,” Feng Zongze replied in a low voice. “Xue Winnie said he’s made all the preparations.”

Nangong Wudi said nothing. The two returned to the supervisory camp. A new command post had been set up here—the first order of the Jeju security strengthening campaign would be issued from here.

The Jeju security strengthening campaign was personally formulated by Xue Ziliang. All the resources of the Senate on Jeju, whether it was the army, navy, or the civil administration system, were under his unified command.

However, Xue Ziliang was well aware of the Senate’s “hobby”—they would not appreciate it without a vigorous mass movement. So he handed this work over to Feng Zongze to handle.

Feng Zongze and Nangong Wudi went to various departments separately, conveying the order to launch the security strengthening campaign to the agricultural reclamation companies, the Shandong local militia, the Japanese Public Security Army, the White Horse Battalion, and the Korean labor service corps. The campaign quickly spread throughout Jeju City.

The campaign began with a grand “public trial.” A high platform was set up in front of the supervisory camp. The members of the White Horse Battalion maintained order with clubs, and the Japanese Public Security Army soldiers had their tachi swords drawn. All the people in the city, men, women, old, and young, as long as they could walk, had to attend. Besides the local people, a portion of the Shandong immigrants and members of the agricultural reclamation teams also came to participate. The entire square and streets were packed.

Feng Zongze was determined to “make it big.” He did not hesitate to use a loudspeaker and specially equipped a translator for simultaneous interpretation. Although the audience of the public trial was mainly the local people, it was also a warning to the Shandong immigrants.

Amidst a deafening roar, a group of “treasonous elements” led by Jo Myeong-gwi and Jang Seong-seol were brought out for public trial. Their crimes had been read out beforehand, and the evidence was presented. The focus was on the sabotage activities organized and implemented by these saboteurs, such as arson and poisoning. This was different from ordinary sabotage; it was an indiscriminate attack, a typical “terrorist activity,” which could easily arouse the fear and hatred of the common people.

Nangong Wudi also constantly directed the spearhead at Master Kim and the Joseon Dynasty. “Fear”—”hatred.” The Joseon Dynasty, which was originally the “legitimate court,” became the “enemy.” The people’s fear of possible harm was transformed into endless hatred. Not to mention that the Korean people on the island had no good feelings for the Joseon Dynasty at all, and many were exiled prisoners and government slaves. Under Nangong Wudi’s stern roars and questioning, and with the response of the naturalized citizen propaganda personnel hidden in the crowd, the aroused hatred erupted, and slogans rose one after another.

Jo Myeong-gwi’s face was ashen. He was speechless. Even when facing the “all-night” interrogation of the Political Security Bureau, when his body and mind were on the verge of collapse, he had not been so terrified. The people below were all gritting their teeth, as if they wanted to tear him to pieces. Although the “Great Song” official did not make him kneel, his legs gave way and he collapsed like mud, only held up by two members of the White Horse Battalion.

In comparison, Jang Seong-seol was much calmer. Her face was pale, and she tried to struggle and scream several times, but each time she opened her mouth, she was drowned out by the organized roars of the naturalized citizen propaganda personnel. After several attempts, she finally knew that her final counter-attack was also futile.

The other prisoners knew that a great disaster was imminent. They all collapsed on the ground, unable to speak, some even soiling themselves. Just as Nangong Wudi was about to announce the verdict, Jang Seong-seol suddenly took advantage of the female White Horse Battalion member holding her arm being unprepared and bit her hard.

This time, there was no need for the propaganda personnel to incite them. The people, whose eyes were already red with excitement, all roared, “Kill her!” The crowd even began to surge towards the platform. The White Horse Battalion and the Japanese Public Security Army quickly suppressed them to prevent the crowd from rushing up.

Jang Seong-seol struggled madly on the platform. The two female team members could not control her at all. Two male team members quickly came up and held her down tightly. A cloth ball was also stuffed into her mouth.

Nangong Wudi appreciated Jang Seong-seol’s reaction—this was the best embodiment of a “death struggle.” He then stood up and began to announce the verdict.

“In the name of the Senate and the People, the verdict of the Jeju 3.15 and 3.20 treason cases is as follows—”

The war drums suddenly beat, and the square immediately fell silent.

Nangong Wudi deliberately paused to make his verdict more impressive.

“…Jo Myeong-gwi, death penalty!”

“…Jang Seong-seol, death penalty!”

…

He read out the verdicts one by one. Jo Myeong-gwi and twelve others were sentenced to death in the city for organizing, assisting, harboring, and liaising with “traitors.” Another fifteen “righteous army” members who had infiltrated the city to commit arson and poisoning were also sentenced to death.

The other people involved were sentenced to different terms of hard labor. The property of all those involved was confiscated. As a result, apart from a few small businesses, large-scale private handicraft and commercial activities in Jeju City ceased to exist.

The “masterminds” exposed during the trial—Kim Man-il, Hwang Wun-u, and several local pasture owners and landlords—were sentenced to death in absentia, and all their property was confiscated.

The prisoners sentenced to death were hanged on the gallows erected outside the four gates of Jeju and left to air-dry.

After the verdict was announced, a “pledge to suppress the traitors” rally was held. At the rally, the commendation of the deeds of the Kim siblings was first announced, followed by the announcement of a “crusade” against the “hostile elements” on the entire island. Finally, Nangong Wudi and Feng Zongze inspected the crusade army. The Fubo Army, the Japanese Public Security Army, the White Horse Battalion, and the National Army formed from the Shandong local militia all received inspection.

The drums of war beat, and the cannons roared. While Jeju City was in a state of turmoil, teams of the crusade army had already quietly set out, shooting like sharp arrows towards their pre-determined targets. The Jeju Island security strengthening campaign had officially begun.

Feng Zongze dragged his excited and tired body back to his office in the supervisory camp. He looked at his watch. According to the plan, the first news of a breached fortress would arrive in half an hour. Just then, a guard came to report: “Translator and administrative officer Park Deok-maeng requests an audience with the Chief.”

“Let him in,” Feng Zongze said.