The king sent to Kang-neung to levy a tax on ginseng, but as none could be found the messenger levied on the well-to-do gentlemen of the place and this was so successful that the king widened the scope of his operations and made it as hard to live in the country as at the capital. Everything that could possibly be taxed was put on the roll of his exactions. No form of industry but was crushed to the ground by his unmitigated greed. When amusements failed he tried all sorts of experiments to awaken new sensations. He would go out and beat the drum, to the sound of which the workmen were building the palace. This building had iron doors, windows and roof. If the king’s pander heard of a beautiful slave anywhere she was seized and brought to this palace which was also her prison and where she spent her time in weaving in company with many other women who had been similarly “honored.” Often by night the king would wander about the city and enter any man’s house and violate any of its inmates. When this all came to the ears of the emperor he was furious. An envoy was sent to Song-do with orders to bring the wretch bound to Peking. The king came out to meet this envoy but the Mongol raised his foot and gave the wretch a kick that sent him sprawling on the ground. He was then bound and locked up and after things had been put in some sort of shape in the capital the king was carried away to Peking to answer to the emperor. Many of the king’s intimates were killed and many fled for their lives. A hundred and twenty concubines were liberated and sent to their homes. When the king was brought before the emperor the latter exclaimed “So you call yourself a king. You were set over the Koryŭ people but you tore off all their flesh. If your blood should become food for all the dogs in the world justice would still be unsatisfied. But I do not care to kill any man. I will send you to a place from which you will not soon return.” So he was placed on a bier, the symbol of humiliation, and sent away to Ké-yang “twenty thousand _li_ away,” so the records say. No man went with him save his bearers. They carried him from village to village like a dead man. He died on the journey at Ak-yang before reaching his place of exile. When the people of Koryŭ heard of this there was general rejoicing; and a proverb was made which runs, _Aya mangoji_. The _Aya_ refers to Ak-yang where he died and _mangoji_, freely translated, means “damned.”