45 — Let’s See You Prove It. (5)

“Can’t you keep your head straight?”

A man and a beast had their heads shoved into the ground, their rears kicked high in the air.

“Uuuuurgh.”

Screeeeech…

“Grunting like you did something right! I’ll shove you into a wall!”

Chung Myung leapt to kick, but Hae Yeon snatched him out of the air.

“Let me go! Not letting go? Argh—I’m about to lose it!”

Dangling from Hae Yeon, Chung Myung thrashed his legs and spat insults, while both beast and man began to wail.

“A warrior falling off his horse?!”

“No… I was just, uh, too flustered.”

“Flustered?”

Flames seemed to shoot from Chung Myung’s eyes.

“Flustered? You said ‘flustered’? A man who trained for over ten years falls off his horse because he was a bit flustered? He just had to hold on for that moment!”

“I—I didn’t expect the reins to snap.”

“Damn you, just die already! You idiot!”

“Whoa, whoa. Chung Myung, be nice.”

“Calm down, calm down.”

“Beating him won’t change the outcome. Endure it, sahyung.”

The disciples of Mount Hua surged in and dragged Chung Myung back. Still, their looks toward Jo Gul were ice-cold.

“Who can you blame? You should’ve leaned on someone you could actually trust from the start.”

“True. This is partly our fault too.”

“He just had to hang on and he couldn’t even do that. Sigh.”

A sad tear welled in Jo Gul’s eye. Something small lightly tapped his head. Seeing Baek Ah consoling him as if to say ‘don’t cry,’ Jo Gul spoke with mock sincerity.

“It’s your fault! You damned marten!”

Squeeeee!

Watching the beast and man squabble as if they were one, Hae Yeon shook his head.

“Amitabha. If people and beasts are no different like that, then what’s the point of transcending the animal realm? What truly separates a person from an animal?”

“…You’re getting a bit too deep there, monk.”

While Mount Hua’s disciples lamented, triumphant laughter rose from the scholars’ side.

“Wahahahaha!”

“Of course! The first archery was a fluke. There’s no way we’d lose to you Taoists!”

“Indeed.”

“Riding isn’t easy. Archery might allow for a lucky shot, but horse riding is different altogether.”

They spoke among themselves rather than openly mocking, but their glances and chuckles were infuriating. Baek Cheon ground his teeth.

“Who said scholars are humble and value manners?”

“…People are all the same. We don’t just live by grazing like others say.”

“Isn’t Mount Hua the strange one then?”

“Let’s drop it.”

Baek Cheon forced himself calm. Jwa Go-Hak approached with an annoyingly smug smile—annoying at least to Baek Cheon.

“What a shame.”

“Pfft!”

“I’m serious. It was truly unexpected.”

At Jwa Go-Hak’s earnest face, Baek Cheon made an odd expression for a moment.

“You never know what you’ll see in life—like a weasel driving a horse. And…”

Jwa Go-Hak kept his head still and merely glanced toward Jo Gul and Baek Ah, who were still squabbling.

“As if that weren’t enough, to see a person and a marten fighting like that—hah, the world is full of wonders. Had we not met you Taoists, would we ever have such an experience in our lives?”

Baek Cheon stared at Jwa Go-Hak, then turned his head helplessly.

“…Yoon Jong. Strange as it is, I suddenly feel like apologizing to my hyung.”

“Suddenly?”

“Looking back, that man might not have been such a damn unlucky jerk after all.”

“That’s an illusion, sasuk.”

“…I suppose.”

Baek Cheon sighed and snapped:

“So, what’s the next contest?”

“Is there any need to rush? We’ve both taken a win. I recently acquired some fine tea—why not savor the time slowly?”

“Sorry, but I think I’d throw up drinking tea face-to-face with them.”

“…Throw up from drinking tea?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

Sparks flew between them again.

“That bastard…”

“What is he saying, you ink-stained whelp.”

“……”

“……”

Baek Cheon, grinding his teeth, said firmly:

“Enough. Let’s begin.”

“Well then.”

Jwa Go-Hak shrugged as if helpless.

“Even if I wanted to be considerate, you’re refusing so thoroughly I can’t help it. The only moment to enjoy this tense match is now.”

“Huh?”

A brief unease flickered across Baek Cheon’s face. Jwa Go-Hak gave a meaningful smile.

“The next category is—calligraphy.”

Clack.

Baek Cheon froze.

“Ca—calligraphy?”

“Yes.”

“Th—that… the contest where you compete in handwriting?”

Jwa Go-Hak nodded without hesitation.

“Exactly. That’s why I suggested taking it easy.”

Jwa Go-Hak openly mocked, and this time Baek Cheon had no retort.

“T-there was such a category?”

“…I would have explained it from the start.”

“Still, come on.”

Baek Cheon muttered, dumbfounded.

Of course, the earlier categories had been unfamiliar to the Taoists: archery they’d never tried, riding they’d never done.

Compared to those, even people who avoided books had written a line or two in their lives, so this might seem easier—but.

‘What nonsense.’

For the scholars, calligraphy was daily life; for Mount Hua’s disciples, writing was something they only did to scrawl apology letters. Competing here felt impossible.

Any shred of luck they’d hoped for in other categories wouldn’t exist.

They couldn’t win this. Not even if they died trying.

Realizing the situation, Baek Cheon forced a strained smile.

“Th…”

“Yes?”

“I know it’s shameless, but I’m asking—could we change the category?”

Jwa Go-Hak smiled as if delighted.

“Do you think so?”

“…Damn.”

“Ha. As expected, you Taoists have unconventional thinking. I clearly said this is a test, yet you ask to change the category because it’s hard. Truly free-spirited. No wonder you believe you’ll become immortals.”

“You bastard…”

“Now’s not the time to flare up, sasuk.”

“Uuurgh.”

Baek Cheon ruffled his hair frantically.

‘If we lose here again it’ll be really bad. What was the next category?’

Luck had favored them in the previous two contests. If they lost here, the outcome would be obvious. They had to find a way.

“W-wait! The results in other matches are clear, but calligraphy isn’t. Depending on who’s judging, different writing can look better.”

“Ah, you needn’t worry. Those three over there will be judging, won’t they?”

“What?”

Jwa Go-Hak pointed to So Jung-Gyeong and two elder scholars watching from the side.

“Those renowned Confucian scholars will judge fairly. Since there are three of them, there won’t be a tie.”

“……”

“Why the face? You seem displeased. Are you doubting those gentlemen?”

“No, be they great Confucians or not, those men are scholars—who can guarantee they won’t openly take sides… ugh! ugh ugh!”

Mount Hua’s disciples panicked and clapped their hands over Baek Cheon’s mouth.

“Is this man crazy!”

“Why do you think we came here?”

“Get a grip, you fool!”

They’d come precisely to seek the cooperation of those so-called great scholars. Refusing to lose would be putting the cart before the horse.

Pressed by the sajil fellows and subtly kicked by a few, Baek Cheon protested in frustration.

“But what can we do? There’s no way to win this.”

“Even so…”

“Can you lot write well?”

When Baek Cheon pressed them, Mount Hua’s disciples all averted their eyes and pretended not to hear.

They weren’t illegible—some might even be decent writers.

But no matter what, they couldn’t match people whose profession was writing and reading all day.

“…This time it’s really better to forfeit.”

“It’s a waste of time, after all.”

“Grr. It’s infuriating. If this were a sword match we’d win.”

“…Uuurgh.”

Just as Baek Cheon, accepting there was no other way, was about to declare forfeiture,

“Calligraphy.”

Chung Myung, seated at the back, rose silently like a shadow and nodded with a faint smile.

“It can’t be helped. Is it time for me to step in?”

“No.”

“Enough.”

“Put him away, put him away.”

“Forfeit here!”

“What? But these people!”

Chung Myung scrunched his face and glared.

“Are you saying you don’t trust me now?”

“Yes.”

“Is that something to say? I don’t need to repeat myself.”

“……”

Before Chung Myung could speak, Baek Cheon put an arm over his shoulder.

“Chung Myung.”

“Hm?”

“No matter what, a person should have a conscience. When you look at your own handwriting, what do you think?”

“…Think?”

“That’s what I think. Even a worm wouldn’t crawl like that.”

“……”

“Someone like that? Compete in calligraphy? Didn’t you leave your conscience back at Mount Hua?”

“Bah!”

Chung Myung kicked Baek Cheon’s rear with a loud smack.

“Who’s talking about competing in calligraphy?”

“Huh? Then what?”

Chung Myung clicked his tongue.

“Calligraphy or whatever, the point is to win!”

“So how are you going to do that?”

The category was writing—how could they win?

Chung Myung, who couldn’t be unaware of the situation, nodded firmly.

“Don’t worry. Twice may be hard, but once—once we can definitely win.”

“Huh?”

Chung Myung snapped his head toward Jwa Go-Hak.

“Hey, you there.”

“Yes?”

“Whether we agreed or not, it’s to your advantage to contest calligraphy. You’d agree to that, right?”

Jwa Go-Hak coolly nodded.

“Of course. I can’t deny that.”

“Is that so? Then for the fairness of the test…”

“Hmm?”

Chung Myung smiled, lifting one corner of his mouth.

“Choosing the phrase to write from our side wouldn’t be a problem, would it? Right?”

Jwa Go-Hak slightly furrowed his brow.

There was nothing difficult about it. In calligraphy, the important thing is the handwriting itself, not the phrase. If he didn’t concede this, people would say he’d been cowed facing the Taoists.

‘But why does it feel off?’

It felt sticky. Even after thinking it over, there was nothing to object to, but the man gave off a faint whiff of something fishy….

“Very well.”

“Alright, then…”

“But!”

“Hm?”

Jwa Go-Hak grinned and said:

“The content of the phrase mustn’t be something we’d object to. For example, do not insult Confucius.”

Chung Myung mumbled in a daze.

“No, even so, I wouldn’t be that dirty…”

“Ugh, what a shame!”

“That would’ve been a brilliant idea!”

“If it were Chung Myung, he’d definitely pull that off. Now that’s blocked.”

“……”

Chung Myung was at a loss and stared at Mount Hua’s fiends. What kind of monsters had they raised?

Baek Cheon sidled up and whispered.

“Chung Myung, that was a shame. It was a truly genius idea. Only you would think of something like that.”

“……”

“But it seems we’re caught—what now?”

“What are you talking about, you crazy people!”

“Why are you angry? Weren’t you going to use a phrase insulting Confucius as the prompt?”

“Why would I do that! Are you insane?”

“No, it’s just that otherwise there’s no way to win…”

Baek Cheon grumbled, ‘Where’s the means to win, what method? Besides, I’m not even close with Confucius.’ Chung Myung couldn’t bring himself to say anything and trembled.

‘Chung Mun Sahyung. Is this okay?’

• Whose fault is all this, you madman.

Ah, why the swearing… but actually I’m a bit reflective about it too.

“So, what will you do?”

“Hm?”

“What phrase will you choose?”

Chung Myung shrugged and replied bluntly.

“Great Mount Hua Sect.”

“Huh?”

“That will do.”

A meaningful smile appeared on Chung Myung’s lips.