Some time after this occurrence the King was walking with a few eunuchs and attendants in the royal gardens. It was evening time, but the full moon furnished ample light. The atmosphere was tempered just to suit; it was neither cold nor warm, while it lacked nothing of the bracing character of a Korean autumn. The leaves were blood-red on the maples; the heavy cloak of climbing vines that enshrouded the great wall near by was also beautifully colored. These effects could even be seen by the bright moonlight, and seated on a hill-side the royal party were enjoying the tranquillity of the scene, when all were astonished by the sound of a flute played by some one up above them. Looking up among the tree-tops a man was seen descending toward them, seated upon the back of a gracefully moving stork. The King imagined it must be some heavenly being, and ordered the chief eunuch to make some proper salutation. But before this could be done, a voice was heard saying: “Fear not, O King. I am simply Hong Pansa [Kil Tong’s new title]. I have come to make my obeisance before your august presence and be confirmed in my rank.”
This he did, and no one attempted to molest him; seeing which, the King, feeling that it was useless longer to attempt to destroy a man who could read the unspoken thoughts of men, said:
“Why do you persist in troubling the country? I have removed from you now the stigma attached to your birth. What more will you have?”
“I wish,” said Kil Tong, with due humility, “to go to a distant land, and settle down to the pursuit of peace and happiness. If I may be granted three thousand bags of rice I will gladly go and trouble you no longer.”
“But how will you transport such an enormous quantity of rice?” asked the King.
“That can be arranged,” said Kil Tong. “If I may be but granted the order, I will remove the rice at daybreak.”
The order was given. Kil Tong went away as he came, and in the early morning a fleet of junks appeared off the royal granaries, took on the rice, and made away before the people were well aware of their presence.
Kil Tong now sailed for an island off the west coast. He found one uninhabited, and with his few followers he stored his riches, and brought many articles of value from his former hiding-places. His people he taught to till the soil, and all went well on the little island till the master made a trip to a neighboring island, which was famous for its deadly mineral poison,—a thing much prized for tipping the arrows with. Kil Tong wanted to get some of this poison, and made a visit to the island. While passing through the settled districts he casually noticed that many copies of a proclamation were posted up, offering a large reward to any one who would succeed in restoring to her father a young lady who had been stolen by a band of savage people who lived in the mountains.
Kil Tong journeyed on all day, and at night he found himself high up in the wild mountain regions, where the poison was abundant. Gazing about in making some preparations for passing the night in this place, he saw a light, and following it, he came to a house built below him on a ledge of rocks, and in an almost inaccessible position. He could see the interior of a large hall, where were gathered many hairy, shaggy-looking men, eating, drinking, and smoking. One old fellow, who seemed to be chief, was tormenting a young lady by trying to tear away her veil and expose her to the gaze of the barbarians assembled. Kil Tong could not stand this sight, and, taking a poisoned arrow, he sent it direct for the heart of the villain, but the distance was so great that he missed his mark sufficiently to only wound the arm. All were amazed, and in the confusion the girl escaped, and Kil Tong concealed himself for the night. He was seen next day by some of the savage band, who caught him, and demanded who he was and why he was found in the mountains. He answered that he was a physician, and had come up there to collect a certain rare medicine only known to exist in those mountains.
The robbers seemed rejoiced, and explained that their chief had been wounded by an arrow from the clouds, and asked him if he could cure him. Kil Tong was taken in and allowed to examine the chief, when he agreed to cure him within three days. Hastily mixing up some of the fresh poison, he put it into the wound, and the chief died almost at once. Great was the uproar when the death became known. All rushed at the doctor, and would have killed him, but Kil Tong, finding his own powers inadequate, summoned to his aid his old friends the spirits (quay sin), and swords flashed in the air, striking off heads at every blow, and not ceasing till the whole band lay weltering in their own blood.