36 — It Is No Big Deal. (1)

“Wow…”

Astonished murmurs spilled from the Mount Hua disciples as they entered the village.

“…It seems even bigger than it looked from outside.”

“The houses look much older than I expected, but they’re remarkably well kept.”

“How could a village like this exist in the middle of Mount Tai?”

The scenery itself was striking — as striking as could be. But what gripped the Mount Hua disciples most was that whenever they passed the scattered houses, the clear sound of people reading drifted out.

“This doesn’t feel real.”

Calling it a “Peach Blossom Spring” tied to Confucianism felt odd, but there wasn’t a better phrase than ‘the scholars’ Peach Blossom Spring’ for this village.

“…Amazing, really.”

At the voices of admiration, So Jung-Gyeong gave a wry smile and asked, “Do you like what you see?”

Everyone nodded vigorously.

“Yes. Very much. It really looks like a paradise. It would be wonderful to live here.”

“Who wouldn’t like this sight?”

“…I think there might be someone.”

At that, the Mount Hua disciples turned their heads.

“Ugh…”

Chung Myung groaned and tore at his hair.

“Muttering here, muttering there. What the hell are those bastards reading…?”

“…”

The Mount Hua disciples exchanged slightly pale looks.

“Is it normal to be that distressed by the sound of reading?”

“Doesn’t he look like he’s being exorcised?”

Tang Soso, shaking her head, said, “It’s not just that he hates the sound of reading… The teachings of Confucius and Mencius are about how a person should live rightly.”

“Right?”

“That is diametrically opposed to sahyung.”

“…What is that, not like he’s some black-hearted brat.”

Baek Cheon shook his head.

If the genuinely black-hearted Im So-Byeong saw this, he’d be crying and saying he’d settle down here; yet someone from the Justice faction reacted like that…

Watching Chung Myung cover his ears with a cloth he must have fetched from somewhere, Baek Cheon sighed as if he could hardly bear it.

“If it looks good to you, that’s fortunate. But the reason this village was founded is actually much heavier than it appears.”

“Heavier?”

Jo Gul cocked his head. ‘Beautiful village’ and ‘heavy’ didn’t feel like a natural pair.

But So Jung-Gyeong, as if he’d anticipated that reaction, opened his mouth with a bitter expression.

“You’ve probably heard the phrase ‘the harsh rule of Qin’ before.”

Everyone smiled faintly and nodded.

“Of course.”

“Yes. We know it well.”

“That’s a story often told, that one.”

“…You don’t know it, huh.”

“Haha…”

Seeing their reactions and grasping the situation, So Jung-Gyeong cleared his throat and continued.

“It’s the burying of scholars. That is, ‘burning of books and burying of scholars.’”

“Hmm, that’s a pleasant-sounding phrase.”

“I don’t think it’s a good thing…”

So Jung-Gyeong looked around the group, startled.

“You… you don’t know this either?”

“…”

“Hmm. My apologies. It seems I’ve been surrounded by scholars for too long. I should’ve considered that recluses like me might not know of the outside world.”

“No need to apologize. It’s not that you’re a recluse; we’re just ignorant.”

“There’s no need to put it that way, sasuk.”

“Shut up. You’ve made it look like all the Taoists in the world are idiots because of us. We have to stop that.”

“What about Mount Hua looking stupid!”

“I’ll grudgingly accept that. It’s true.”

“…Don’t say it so dramatically. It’s embarrassing.”

So Jung-Gyeong laughed awkwardly and began explaining again.

“In the past, the ruler of Qin seized Confucian scholars across the land and buried them alive.”

“…Ah, Qin Shi Huang.”

Only then did the Mount Hua disciples, recalling the phrase ‘burning of books and burying of scholars,’ nod.

“We’ve heard that Qin Shi Huang buried scholars alive and burned the classics.”

At their cautious reaction, So Jung-Gyeong gave a hollow smile.

“It was a long time ago. But that event left deep concern among those who study Confucianism. No — fear, which is more accurate.”

“Fear, you say?”

“Someday…”

So Jung-Gyeong’s gaze deepened.

“The fear is that if a ruler ever turns hostile toward Confucianism again, such a thing might happen once more.”

“Hmm.”

Hae Yeon sounded puzzled. “Qin Shi Huang’s achievements can’t be ignored, but his brutality was unprecedented. It’s unlikely someone like him would appear again — could it really happen?”

So Jung-Gyeong glanced at Hae Yeon and smiled faintly.

“Perhaps that’s something a monk like you or recluses might find hard to grasp. You keep your distance from the secular world.”

He sighed.

“But Confucianism, by its nature, cannot fully leave the secular world. It’s a study that inevitably approaches power.”

“Ah.”

Hae Yeon nodded, as if he’d understood.

“That’s right.”

So Jung-Gyeong lowered his voice.

“Even if a country banned Buddhism, it couldn’t scour every mountain to seize monks. The same goes for Daoists. It’s like a country being unable to capture every bandit.”

“But Confucian scholars are different?”

“That’s right. At least the famous ones couldn’t avoid extermination. Simply put, even if only the scholars near the imperial palace were targeted, more than half of the prominent scholars would lose their heads.”

“…I see.”

“The remaining ones are the same. You make your home in deep mountains and valleys, but we live where people gather. If someone set out to arrest us, we could be taken at any time.”

Only then did everyone nod in understanding. Given the nature of Confucianism, their worries made sense. Whether or not it would happen, the damage would be immense if it did.

“So they all made a place to flee to?”

“No.”

So Jung-Gyeong shook his head immediately.

“Scholars aim to benefit the world. To do that, serving the emperor well is primary. If such a thing happened again, scholars would also bear some fault; evading responsibility would not be virtuous.”

“…”

“What we feared wasn’t precisely the burying of scholars but the burning of books.”

“Book burning…”

“Yes.”

So Jung-Gyeong turned to the Mount Hua disciples.

“What about you? You too are people who dwell in a world of blades and swords; surely you’ve prepared yourselves for the day your lives might end.”

“Yes.”

Baek Cheon nodded as if it were self-evident.

“Then I’ll ask this: which is more frightening — to lose your life while pursuing your ideals, or for your martial teachings to be tested into oblivion and cease to continue?”

“Ah…”

Baek Cheon nodded in understanding.

“You mean burning the classics severs a scholarly lineage.”

“Exactly.”

So Jung-Gyeong nodded, grateful to be understood.

“Of course, Confucianism continued even after that time, but not everything was preserved. Too many lines of scholarship were cut off back then.”

He looked toward the distant sky with deep regret.

“So the surviving scholars thought: if the same thing happens again, even if lives are lost, the lineages must continue. Thus they searched for a place to hide and preserve every scholarly lineage in the land.”

“That place is…”

“Yes. They gave it the grand name of Hidden Recluse Pond, but, if you think about it, that name itself contains the scholars’ dream.”

Just as everyone was about to nod at the story filled with pain and resolve,

“Yes. Thanks for the old story that has nothing to do with us.”

“Demon.”

“Do you have no human heart, then?”

“No, but an elder is speaking here.”

“Shut up.”

Chung Myung lazily prodded his ear and asked indifferently, “What does that have to do with this? For a place so passionately assembled to preserve books…”

He glanced around and shrugged.

“It looks like they’re excessively well-fed and well-off.”

“…That’s true.”

At Chung Myung’s remark, the Mount Hua disciples looked around with renewed curiosity. Something about So Jung-Gyeong’s story and the scene before them felt subtly off.

“Ahem. They say that was how it began. At first.”

So Jung-Gyeong, seemingly well aware, spoke with an embarrassed look.

“It started like that, but over time it changed. In fact, you could say this became a repository of all Confucian learning in the land. Even disciplines with no students now remain here.”

“I suppose… so.”

“As a result, retired officials and elderly scholars with nothing left to do began to gather here one by one.”

“Old men with more money than they can spend, too much time, and nothing to do but read?”

“…I can’t deny that.”

Self-mockery creased the corner of So Jung-Gyeong’s mouth.

“Originally these were men who should have been training disciples, but those who felt their scholarship incomplete came here hoping to find answers. As a result…”

“So the old men who should be reading in humble cottages used their overflowing money to decorate here and there until this extravagant place was made?”

“Ugh. Do you have to put it that way?”

The Mount Hua disciples looked at the village again. Though it appeared the same, something felt different.

“So all of this is…”

“Just money-wasting.”

“…I thought this was about living simply and enjoying the Way.”

“Living simply and enjoying the Way is really the privilege of the wealthy. They can say such things because they don’t worry about food and living.”

At the Mount Hua disciples’ suddenly sharp looks, So Jung-Gyeong puckered his lips.

“So to give you the bottom line.”

Chung Myung said nonchalantly, “It means this is a place where retired old scholars who have enjoyed everything in the world play at being immortals.”

“…”

“Like an old gentleman’s club?”

So Jung-Gyeong sighed — a sigh that must have been several times over — and answered, “You’re quite sharp-tongued.”

“If it tastes bitter to hear the truth plainly spoken by me, then it’s the truth that’s bitter, not my tongue.”

“It’s not wrong; it’s even more painful because of that.”

So Jung-Gyeong let out a hollow laugh.

“That’s right. This is that kind of place. It may not have been at first, but now it has become that.”

“Hmm.”

“The problem is… it doesn’t end with just that story.”

“…Sorry?”

“You’ll see if you watch a bit longer.”

So Jung-Gyeong, with a faint smile, continued.

“And… having said this much, you should understand why you were brought here. Right?”

“Hm.”

After a moment’s thought, Tang Soso spoke, “You mean there are many here besides the elder who once held high office.”

“Exactly.”

“And some among them, unlike that elder, still have influence in the imperial court. You’re planning to introduce us to those people, right?”

So Jung-Gyeong looked at Tang Soso, slightly surprised. “You’re sharp of mind. I’m impressed.”

“You’re flattering me. It’s all guessable if one isn’t stupid… Ah, I know! I know! I misspoke! I didn’t mean to call the sahyungs fools!”

Tang Soso recoiled at the sullen stares of the Mount Hua disciples.

“But there’s one thing you must know.”

“What?”

“I can introduce you to them, but I cannot make them grant your requests. You might return having gained nothing. Or perhaps…”

So Jung-Gyeong’s gaze turned cold. “You might not even be able to keep your lives.”

At that, their faces hardened.

“Well? Will you go anyway?”

The Mount Hua disciples, stirred by So Jung-Gyeong’s provocative gaze, met his eyes with shining determination.