(Chapter 8) 5. The Chundangdae Avengers (2)
Before I could even think of stopping him, Eoji charged straight ahead.
But as expected, Gwiduseo seemed to have had his heyday once upon a time. He frantically extended his leg.
Gwiduseo's flashy high kick—something akin to it—crashed against Eoji's cheek. At that age, his leg could reach that high; he must have trained tirelessly.
I wondered if Joseon had martial arts like that, but as someone unfamiliar with such things, I couldn't tell. Everyone learns fighting to beat others, so techniques probably converge into similar forms over time.
Still, Eoji, having taken the hit, merely rolled his eyes like a cow.
Gwiduseo wasn't exactly small, but he was still only human-sized. Martial arts for bare hands are meant for humans. When your opponent exceeds human physical limits, the first step is to grab a weapon.
A simple kick couldn't pierce the muscle of Eoji's neck and reach his brain. Even if a ten-year-old delivered a textbook-perfect punch, would an adult really fall?
"Huh…?"
Before Gwiduseo could retract his leg, Eoji swung his arm. The motion was like a bear swatting away an annoying weasel.
It was on a completely different level from when he hit Jangbok. They say "give an inch, take a mile"—this must be it. Gwiduseo collapsed, blood spurting, with a thud.
Goponghwan and I fell silent.
In broad daylight, in front of so many people, we had rendered one of Joseon's most powerful men's subordinates utterly incapacitated.
Hesitating, Goponghwan asked,"What should we do? I hear he's a master's servant; shouldn't we move him somewhere, maybe give him first aid...?"
A chaotic commotion reached my ears—the people who had been in front of us, knocked aside or bounced back by Eoji's blows, were shouting.
"Are you here to take the exam, or to slaughter people?""That guy… I know him! It's Tagubong Kim Unhaeng, the one who smashed a senior's head at the government office!""What? That's the author himself? Even his servant brings along some goblin-like creature; that must run in the family!"
I quickly made a decision."Let's run!""Where to?"It was obvious. Hope, the future, my own promotion—none of that existed behind or beside me.
I had only one direction: forward."Forward! Eoji, carry Jangbok and follow me. Not much farther now!"
At this point, I had no choice but to execute a plan I'd rather avoid. I thrust my staff forward aggressively."I am Kim Unhaeng of Jangdong. Anyone who doesn't want a taste of my Spear-and-Staff Fist, get out of my way!"
Faces turned pale, and people stepped back. Even Eoji, still wary from before, looked uneasy. Goponghwan asked,"Are you sure? Being shoved and trampled is normal in exams, but this is far too chaotic—later, surely…"
Reputation was already lost. If I gave up even my past here, there'd be nothing left to gain. I grabbed Goponghwan by the sleeve—generous, considering his status."I'm risking my life here. If you have leisure to talk, then run instead!"
I had some confidence. The fight was flashy, but among tens of thousands at the Chundangdae, it hardly stood out. Glancing sideways as I pushed through, similar skirmishes were happening all around. This was the scholarly fervor of men serving the monarch and the state.
Fortunately, after that, we moved forward without incident and secured front-row seats. Exactly as I hoped: prime seats where I could almost smell the wood and ink from the exam papers. Jangbok, still unconscious, was replaced by Eoji, who barely managed to hold up an umbrella. Only then could I finally exhale.
I scanned the area. The relative of Hong Bonghan (likely not a direct descendant; his son Hong Nak-in, around my age, was at Sungkyunkwan) wasn't in sight. The first group must have been swept aside by the crowd anyway. I put Hong Bonghan out of my mind. Worrying now would gain nothing; I could explain later if needed.
Meanwhile, Goponghwan folded his arms, studying the exam prompt. He clicked his tongue."Seems the execution at the Seungmunwon has become widely known.""What?"
The prompt read:
"The Great Learning teaches: Do not task subordinates with what you dislike in superiors; do not serve superiors with what you dislike in subordinates. In recent times, hierarchical laws have crumbled; under the guise of myeonsin some scholars' property and even lives were ruined, while juniors disregarded their elders, even resorting to violence. What measures can restore proper order and strengthen governmental discipline?"
Unsurprisingly, this was the purpose of today's exam—but… this prompt had some serious bite. Normally, topics came from the classics, but this felt like a political trap, almost a pretext to test reactions.
Goponghwan explained,"I doubt the king has leisure to concern himself personally with trivialities. This likely reflects the intent of the Tangpyeong policy. By posing the question, he subtly gauges reaction—any candidate who complains about petty injustices or promotions will fail."
A trap question, then. Both the madcap temperament of King Yeongjo and Goponghwan's sharp judgment impressed me. He added casually,"In the past, when such sudden or subtly admonishing questions appeared, students would hurl roof tiles and stones in protest."
What? I'd never heard of that in Korea. I scanned the crowd. If such chaos occurred here… it could spark a large-scale rebellion. My heart tightened—but Goponghwan smiled."Don't worry. That was in the distant rural provinces. Here, such defiance is impossible. Leave it to me—I have a general sense of the king's intent."
I nodded, reassured."So we can answer it properly?""Of course."
No one questioned our calm discussion; everyone was doing the same. While Goponghwan rapidly composed the answers, I slipped away briefly. Even before the gate opened, street vendors had bribed their way in, setting up stalls.
Though it irritated me, there was no cause for a scene. I bought snacks and a few bowls of rice wine, then returned. Jangbok was still out cold, and Eoji couldn't run errands, so I had to go myself. Eoji, probably the first in Joseon to drink wine fetched by his master, devoured it along with the snacks.
By the time Jangbok regained consciousness, Goponghwan's answer sheet was nearly complete. I read his elegant writing and gasped. How could one craft such a perfect—well, king-pleasing—answer? Flattery is no easy art: it must highlight truths the superior finds hard to voice, criticize subtly, and stay within bounds. And yet, it must never reveal one's understanding of the king's true intent.
Yeongjo's personality could be inferred from rumors and history: cautious, clever, emotionally volatile, but ultimately brilliant. Goponghwan's writing navigated this treacherous final-stage trap flawlessly.
The answer cleverly linked the myeonsin incident with factional conflicts, subtly implying intrigue among officials, then concluded that unity under the monarch was paramount. Like some modern newspaper slogan, it advocated loyalty to a single leader—but without overtly flattering the king.
Satisfied, I copied it onto my own sheet. In this exam, the "cooks" must follow the recipe; improvisation could ruin everything. I became a human copier.
With brush in hand, I activated my interface:[Active Skill 'Han Seokbong's Calligraphy' activated.]
The Chundangdae exam is immediate—results announced on the same day. Having written first, I submitted strategically in seventh place to avoid attention, then exited the market. Interestingly, neither the king nor high-ranking officials were present. Perhaps because this exam was only a preliminary opportunity for direct placement, not a formal ranking.
Reflecting on Yeongjo's disposition, I reasoned:"The king is politically aware of the myeonsin incident. The Chundangdae serves as a signal to officials—he is generous, but not to be trifled with."
While lost in thought, Jangbok tugged at my sleeve."Master! Master! What are you thinking? You must see the announcement!"
I lifted my head sharply. The first goal's result was finally revealed. Ahead of me, dozens of people crowded the announcement boards.
I couldn't risk using Eoji to push through again, so I said habitually,"This will take a while. Jangbok, go check and report back. Why aren't you running?"
Despite my order, Jangbok just smiled sadly at his bruised face. I realized my mistake: even if I didn't teach him to read, he should at least know his master's name.
"Let's go together."
I forced my way through the crowd. Many had already felt Eoji's fists, so the path cleared. By the board, my tension peaked. Goponghwan laughed at my anxious stance."Even if you fail this year, there's always next. Why fret over a hurdle when nine out of ten students never reach the final stage anyway?"
Next to me, a sharp voice snapped,"This is wrong! Kim Unhaeng, how can that delinquent even pass the board?"
I blinked, recognizing… it was Gwiduseo, paper crammed into his nose. He appeared to be Hong Bonghan's relative. Seeing him brought two reassurances: first, he wasn't a close relative—if he were, he'd have passed. Second, my first goal was achieved.
My interface confirmed:[First Mandatory Goal: Pass the Civil Service Exam (Achieved)][Tuition Points Earned: 1/12][Active Skill 'Yi Seonggye's Archery' unlocked][Passive Skill 'Vitality Boost' unlocked][Reputation greatly increased.][Noticed by: Crown Prince Yi Hwon, Minister of Finance Yeongseonggun Park Munsu][Disliked by: Gyeonggi Governor Hong Bonghan]
Another message appeared:[Bonus Goal Achieved: Submitted answer sheet within top 10][Reward: 30 Ma-Teun Silver Coins]
I realized now how the hidden bonus worked: fast submission was rewarded through my calligraphy skill. The system guides me ultimately toward the position of Yeongjo's Prime Minister.
Next goal appeared:[Additional Optional Goal: Pass the palace exam with first-class rank (甲科) or higher]
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Notes for historical context:
Shin Chi-un sparked a group "answer-sheet protest" inspired by a previous Naju incident; it was a near-suicidal act, and Yeongjo suppressed it.
Han Ho Seokbong's calligraphy was valued for technical perfection rather than artistic ideology.
Students throwing tiles and stones refers to the 1606 Gyeongsang provincial exam; it reflected frustration with government corruption after the Imjin War.
Crown Prince's name is read Yi Hwon in the text; Park Munsu already held high office.
Ma-Teun silver coins resemble Qing-era horse-hoof shaped silver currency.