WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Murim in my Hometown ◈

Chapter 12: Reviewing the Game

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“Stop!”

A booming voice rang through the open training ground.

As though cold water had been thrown over me, I came to my senses, stopped, and stepped back. Head Escort Pung watched me closely as he slowly lowered his wooden saber.

As I steadied my heated breathing, I quickly reviewed the exchanges we had just traded in my mind.

If we had clashed again, one of us would have ended up on the ground.

The examiner had watched long enough to pinpoint the turning point of the fight before intervening. He was clearly no ordinary man either.

Head Escort Pung sighed, held his wooden saber upside down, and gave a fist-and-palm salute.

“I am Pung Gangik, a head escort of Yongcheon Escort Agency.”

His manner was completely different from his earlier arrogance. Since it seemed I had passed the test, I returned his salute in good spirits.

“Jeong Daecheon.”

“Your saber art has an excellent foundation. I have learned something from you. May I ask which sect you belong to?”

“I only picked it up here and there, so I do not know much. The person who taught me never taught me the entire thing.”

“Is that so?”

Pung Gangik simply nodded. He did not appear particularly suspicious.

Among disciples of martial families that had been destroyed or fallen due to one grievance or another, many genuinely did not know their origins or preferred not to reveal them.

The examiner who had shouted to stop the test rose from his seat.

He was a slender middle-aged man in an escort uniform, but he had more of the bearing of a Daoist than a martial artist.

With deeply set eyes and a sharp glint in his gaze, he studied me closely.

“I am Du Jaryeom, the chief head escort. It has been a long time since I saw such a fine match. To exchange thirty-odd moves with Head Escort Pung is no small feat. How old are you?”

“I am twenty-one this year.”

“Hm? You are younger than you look. I thought you were at least twenty-six.”

That was nothing unusual. Children from poor homes grew up early, and among wandering blade-for-hires, I had never seen one who lived according to his age.

Another examiner standing beside him furrowed his brow and shook his head.

“Isn't twenty-one a little too hot-blooded? He might lose his head over the scent of face powder and disgrace the escort agency’s name.”

“Hmm.”

The chief head escort narrowed his eyes and stroked his beard.

“What do you think, Head Escort Pung?”

“He'll be fine.”

When Pung Gangik responded positively, the chief head escort smiled with satisfaction.

“I will trust Head Escort Pung’s eye, then. You have passed for now.”

“Thank you.”

I cupped my hands and bowed my head in thanks.

“How much is the monthly pay?”

“For day duty, twenty coins a day. If you do not miss a single day, you receive another hundred coins, for a total of seven hundred coins a month. Night duty, which requires you to stay up through the night, pays forty coins a day. Finish a full month, and you will earn one and a half taels of silver. You may think it is meager, but that is how guards are paid. No one in Seochon has the nerve to touch Yongcheon Escort Agency, so there is not much danger either. If you want to earn a substantial amount of silver, you need to go on escort runs.”

“Do I have to go on escort runs too?”

“Are you interested?”

“No. If I ever have to go on an escort run, I'll quit.”

The unidentified examiner gave a crooked smirk.

“Did you apply because you were captivated by Simhyang Pavilion too?”

“I do not care where I am assigned. I simply do not want to leave my hometown.”

The chief head escort tilted his head.

“Your hometown? You are from here?”

“I turned my back on it as a child and only returned recently.”

“Returning to your roots...”

The chief head escort nodded with a strangely wistful expression.

“...You must have suffered a great deal. Very well. We are hiring guards this time, so you should not have to go on escort runs. You two finish testing the remaining applicants. You, come with me.”

I fastened the willow-leaf saber at my waist and left the training ground after the chief head escort.

“Has anyone besides me passed?”

“No. There were several wandering martial artists with decent skill, but every last one looked like the sort who would cause trouble. If we hire carelessly, cleaning up afterward becomes work of its own. Finding someone useful is like looking for a needle in a sandy field. Grab blindly, and you are bound to get pricked.”

There was a subtle yet firm warning in the chief head escort’s calm words. If I caused trouble while wearing an escort uniform, it would not end well for me...

In my experience, people who applied pressure like this were far more decisive than those who openly threatened others.

If I failed to follow the rules I was expected to follow, it would not end with a few punches.

“There will be an escort run to Sichuan in a month. It has been a while since we had a large-scale run, so we need to mobilize even the escorts currently standing guard. That is why we are increasing our numbers. How long do you plan to work here?”

“I think I'll need to work until the end of this year.”

“That works out well. Can you begin tomorrow evening?”

“I can.”

“It may change if anyone else passes, so I will tell you your assignment tomorrow.”

At the escort agency’s main hall, I received a dark blue escort uniform with the two characters for Yongcheon clearly embroidered over the left breast, along with a temporary identity plaque.

Far from shrinking, the line had grown even longer. The escorts were still busy maintaining order.

The moment I stepped outside the main gate, idle martial artists from the neighborhood, who had gathered in droves as though begging to be beaten one by one, spoke to me.

“How did it go, brother?”

“Did you pass?”

“What do they do in there?”

“Isn't that an escort uniform? Huh. So someone actually can pass.”

“Damn it, they aren't hiring just one person, are they?”

The envy, jealousy, and twisted ill will pouring in from every direction irritated my nerves like invisible thorns.

Answering them would only start a quarrel, so I kept my mouth shut and passed by at a suitable distance.

The moment I returned home, I tossed the escort uniform onto the porch and drew my willow-leaf saber.

The excitement of the spar had already faded, but the memory of every exchange remained vivid.

Starting with the first form I had used when charging Pung Gangik with my saber, I recreated them one by one.

I had not noticed during the spar, but as I carefully retraced it, shortcomings began to stand out.

Here, it would have been better to simply knock his weapon upward instead of following up with another attack... What if I had moved right instead of left to deceive him...?

Imagining Pung Gangik’s counterattacks, I moved beyond the set forms and methods I usually favored, trying various altered forms and unconventional techniques.

Then my hands and feet came to a complete stop at that troublesome Lan-Na-Cha (攔拿扎).

I had broken it by gripping the wooden saber in both hands and knocking it aside, but I was not satisfied at all.

If that had been a real saber instead of a wooden one, could I have knocked it away? And if it had been a spear instead of a saber...?

After repeating the same form several times and twisting it this way and that, I sheathed my saber.

I went to the bamboo grove and cut several stalks of suitable thickness.

I was trimming the branches away with my dagger to make bamboo poles when Gusam brought dinner.

“Great Hero, you should eat. Hehe.”

Was it already this late? When I looked up at the sky, there was still plenty of sunlight left, since it was early summer.

“What is this?”

Gusam trotted over, blinking with curious eyes.

“What does it look like?”

“A staff?”

“If I use it as it is, it is a staff. If I attach a blade to the end, it becomes a spear. Where's your right-hand man? Why did you come alone?”

“Hojin is busy helping at the fabric shop today. He said the escort agency placed a large order.”

Holding a bamboo pole trimmed to a suitable length, I stood in the middle of the yard.

I stepped forward with my left foot and turned my body slightly to the right.

Gripping the middle of the pole with my left hand and its end with my right, I pointed it ahead and took a deep breath.

Recalling what I had practiced before, I performed the Lan-Na-Cha (攔拿扎).

I spun the bamboo pole, deflected outward, pulled and pressed inward, then thrust straight ahead.

It had been a long time, and my posture was sloppy.

No matter how much strength I put into the thrust, the tip wobbled and weakened its force. It was less precise than the one Pung Gangik had performed with his wooden saber.

After repeating it dozens of times without resting, I gripped the middle of the bamboo pole with both hands and spun it from side to side.

Using Eight Directions Step, I swept it around in every direction like a windmill, kicking dust up from the ground.

That was the extent of the spear art I knew.

It was no better than a wandering strongman’s trick for entertaining onlookers, but it was enough to satisfy Gusam.

“Wow! Great Hero, you know how to use a spear too?”

“I am only imitating it. Here, give it a try.”

“Me too?”

Gusam eagerly took the bamboo pole.

The movements of Lan-Na-Cha (攔拿扎) were so simple that Gusam learned them quickly. Still, he could not produce any proper force behind them.

Having learned the basics, Gusam happily swung the bamboo pole around.

“Vicious Dog Blocks the Road! Staff Splits the Head! Five Viscera and Six Bowels! Facial Paralysis!”

For some reason, he kept shouting out absurd form names.

I shook my head at the nonsense that had begun again like an old illness flaring up, then suddenly stiffened.

“Wait.”

“Why?”

“What was that just now? Unless I heard wrong, the first two sounded like names of forms from the Dog-Beating Staff Art.”

“Oh! Great Hero, you know the Dog-Beating Staff Art too?”

Gusam smiled brightly as though he had just discovered something new.

“You're spouting that off without even knowing what the Dog-Beating Staff Art is?”

“Of course I know. It is the Beggars’ Sect’s secret martial art, right?”

“If you know that, watch your mouth. If a Beggars’ Sect disciple hears you, you'll get cut down for impersonating their sect. No blade in this world hurts any less than another, but nothing is as filthy as getting beaten by a bunch of beggars.”

You might think no one would seriously pick a fight over children playing around, but the Beggars’ Sect was fully capable of it.

“How do you know so much? Great Hero, don't tell me you were beaten by beggars...”

Whatever he imagined, Gusam could not finish his sentence and stared at me with wide, startled eyes.

“Stop talking nonsense and practice the Lan-Na-Cha (攔拿扎).”

“Yes, sir!”

Gusam shut his mouth and focused. At first, he had only been enjoying himself, but soon his breathing became rough and sweat covered his face.

Perhaps he grew tired of repeating the same movements. Suddenly, he gripped the pole with both hands and spun it around. The more he spun it, the farther his hands drifted toward one side, until the pole slipped free and flew into the wall.

“Huh? Why did that slip out?”

Gusam ran over to retrieve the bamboo pole, then scratched his head with a puzzled expression.

“Keep your left and right hands in place. You keep moving them toward one end, so the pole gets pushed out.”

As I watched Gusam practice, I cut the remaining bamboo to a suitable length and made a bamboo practice sword.

It was far lighter than a wooden saber and hollow inside. It did not look as though it would hurt much even if it struck someone.

Gusam stopped practicing with the spear, wiped away his sweat, and asked, “But if a spear fights a saber or sword, which one wins?”

“The stronger person wins.”

“What if their skill is the same?”

“The spear does have an advantage. It is longer than a saber or sword, and it is easy to grip with both hands and put strength into it. It is not difficult to learn either.”

“Just like they say: a hundred days for the spear, a thousand for the saber, ten thousand for the sword. But why don't martial artists use spears? Why does everyone use sabers or swords?”

“Because they are cumbersome to carry around.”

“Wouldn't it be better to live longer, even if it is cumbersome?”

I drew the willow-leaf saber resting on the porch and gestured to Gusam.

“Thrust at me.”

Since there was no blade attached to the bamboo pole, Gusam did not hesitate to take his stance.

Perhaps because he trusted completely that I would not harm him, he was not intimidated even by a bladed weapon.

The bamboo pole came thrusting in with a fairly convincing Cha (扎) trajectory.

Rather than evading or blocking, I lightly swung the willow-leaf saber. The front portion of the bamboo pole was sliced cleanly away as though I had cut paper.

It was not simply because the saber was new and sharp. The entire blade had been sharpened with equal care, allowing it to cut through in one stroke.

Even as I rotated the saber and recovered it after cutting, its balance was so good that my wrist and shoulder felt no strain at all.

I found myself eagerly anticipating what my new long saber from Dojeong Ironworks would look like in a month.

I wiped the willow-leaf saber’s blade against my clothes and returned it to its sheath.

Gusam seemed rather shocked as he stared blankly at the cut end of the bamboo pole, where sap dripped in beads.

“A spearman is finished if their spear shaft gets cut.”

“Ah...”

Not every spear shaft could be cut this easily. Since their lives depended on it, martial artists who used spears made their shafts from wood that was as tough and flexible as possible.

Still, no matter how sturdy it was, wood was only wood. It could not defeat steel. It might hold on for a while, but it would eventually break.

Sabers and swords could still be used even after getting wet and rusting, but rain could warp a spear shaft or reduce its flexibility.

A spear’s length also became a fatal weakness that restricted movement in close combat inside cramped, complicated rooms or narrow alleys.

It could not be concealed, either. It was easily noticed wherever one went, and because it was the military’s primary weapon, it often drew the troublesome attention of government officials.

For all these reasons, the spear was poorly suited to martial artists.

After having Gusam practice a little more, I took up the bamboo practice sword and stood facing him.

“Here I come.”

“Come.”

“Hiya!”

With a shout, Gusam thrust his bamboo pole using a Lan-Na-Cha (攔拿扎) form.

It was obvious he had put all his strength into it.

Standing in place, I swung the bamboo practice sword and knocked aside the head of the bamboo pole.

The pole, which had surged forward with such force, flew sharply in the opposite direction as though someone had yanked it away.

Gusam stared blankly at his empty hand.

“Do not grip the shaft too tightly. If you put in too much strength, it will be gone when you actually need it.”

We tried again, but Gusam lost his bamboo pole during the Lan-Na-Cha (攔拿扎) once more.

The gap between us in physical strength, control of power, and technique was too great for us to spar evenly.

In the end, I had no choice but to reduce my strength.

I held the bamboo practice sword as lightly as a feather with only the minimum strength, and even when I needed to exert force, I relaxed as much as possible. This time, the feeling of our clash was completely different.

I barely blocked the Lan (攔), but I could not throw off the Na (拿) pressing down from the other side. The bamboo practice sword wound around, twisting my wrist.

Rather than brush aside the incoming Cha (扎) along its path, I tried somehow to block it. The bamboo practice sword curled inward and slipped from my grasp.

When I saw it on the ground, I was dumbfounded.

Even if I had gone easy on him and held back my strength, how could I be beaten by a child? I finally understood why the military taught its soldiers nothing but spear arts.

If Pung Gangik had used the Lan-Na-Cha (攔拿扎) while holding a spear, would it have turned out exactly like this?

My thoughts grew needlessly complicated.

Gusam’s eyes went wide after he sent my bamboo practice sword flying with only the basics of spear art he had learned for a little over half a shichen.

“G-G-Great Hero. This is that thing, right? It is, right?”

He clutched the bamboo pole and trembled all over, so shocked that his body shook.

I wondered what nonsense he was about to spout now, then suddenly remembered that this brat Gusam had a fair amount of martial talent.

He was already good at Fist-and-Kick Techniques. Perhaps he had realized something through spear art.

If he showed talent for spear art, he might become a useful sparring partner.

“What are you talking about?”

I looked at him expectantly, but Gusam gave me an oddly troubled look.

When I tilted my head, unable to understand why, Gusam cautiously opened his mouth with a face full of delight.

“I mean, this is that thing... The student surpasses the master. Right?”

“...Huh?”

Footnotes:

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