Questions and Answers: The Sword Painting Riddle
The next day, Jang Cheon arrived at Myeongseong Pavilion. It was the grandest pleasure house along even the bustling Jinhua Avenue, renowned for allowing entry to its upper floors—starting from the third—only to guests of exceptional talent, under the strictest of criteria. The higher the floor, the more rigorous the standards became, and Geum Jeoksan's first question was to take place precisely on the third floor.
What was even more astonishing was the complete absence of anyone else on the way up to the third floor. It meant Geum Jeoksan had rented out the entire Myeongseong Pavilion for the day.
"The attendants are all still here. I wonder how much he paid."
Jang Cheon wasn't close to merchants as a class. But he knew how the wealthy thought. They never wasted money. Renting the pavilion for a full day meant they saw value in it—whether in the question-and-answer session itself or the dozen or so passers who had made it here.
As he ascended the stairs to the third floor, the raucous sound of conversation drifted down.
"Hah! As expected of Great Hero Wang! I knew you'd make it here!"
"Of course! If even this stumps me, what good is my peerless martial prowess? Hahaha!"
A burly, bald man with a curved blade slung over his shoulder clinked cups with a scrawny, ugly fellow. Everyone else had fallen silent, seemingly cowed by their swagger. To Jang Cheon, they were all unfamiliar faces anyway.
"Hey, newbie over there, come here. How many shichen did it take you to solve the problem?"
"......"
"You, the one in the mask. Hey, relax—I won't bite."
Did he really need to engage? Jang Cheon had even donned a cheap mask for the occasion. There was no reason to reveal himself here, and these weren't exactly worth conversing with.
So Jang Cheon simply ignored them, taking his seat without so much as a glance.
The man beside him whispered, "Play along a bit. They're bound to cause trouble."
Jang Cheon at least acknowledged this busybody. A famous person? he asked quietly.
The reply came: "That one's Wang Yang, the Flame Flower Advance Army. As you may know, young hero, those cultivating the Fierce Sun Qi in Sichuan lately have been experiencing strange phenomena. Wang Yang stands out among them—he's comprehended a new supreme art, elevating his once mere first-rate skills to near Super First Rate levels. His temper's as foul as ever, though."
The man clicked his tongue in quiet disdain.
"I'm fine," Jang Cheon said curtly.
The man had meant well, and Jang Cheon felt no real annoyance. In truth, he'd already anticipated Wang Yang's brutish antics.
"You bastard! Only by experiencing this Super First Rate master's prowess will you repent your insolence!"
So that's it. Super First Rate, is it?
Jang Cheon pondered briefly before posing a question. This was, after all, the perfect venue to probe hidden martial secrets. Gauging their basic insight wouldn't hurt.
"Among the Shaolin Seventy-Two Supreme Arts, the lowest-rated is Tanji Singong. Do you know why?"
"What nonsense is this?!"
"Answer me. Or do you not know?"
"......."
Those who loved to strut often froze when put on the spot. Wang Yang had envisioned himself grandly crushing Jang Cheon, but now he fumbled, recalling something from his last-minute cramming for Geum Jeoksan's three questions.
"Th-that's basic! It's not that Tanji Singong is some world-shaking supreme art—it's because you need Gaksan Tawoo and Heogong Seopmul first. Without reaching the Transformation Realm, you can't even begin. It's a dead art!"
"Hm."
"Ha! Stunned by the correct answer, eh? This Wang Yang's insight is vast as the sea! You couldn't even dream of it!"
"I never said your claim was fact. The low rating of Tanji Singong stems from elsewhere."
Jang Cheon curled his fingers into a circle—a posture like flicking a knuckle-rapping shot. Meanwhile, Wang Yang bellowed triumphantly.
"Trying to stall with drivel won't save you. Witness my Supreme Flame Sun Phoenix Super Initial Art and burn in repentance...!"
Pak!
The Super First Rate master who had awakened a new supreme art, the Flame Flower Advance Army, rolled his eyes back and toppled over in convulsions. The room fell utterly silent.
Jang Cheon dusted off his fingers, muttering, "Tanji Singong has a grandiose name, but anyone can mimic it after one glance. It's a brutally simple technique."
Gathering energy in the middle finger and unleashing it with Gaksan Tawoo—simple, crude, destructive. Its very simplicity made it devastating. Back in Geumroe-ok, Jang Cheon had witnessed countless supreme arts firsthand while sparring with Gangnam Na-han. His Tanji Singong had shattered cliff faces.
"W-wasn't that just a strong burst of finger wind?"
Jang Cheon offered no further explanation. Instead, he sat at the table and poured himself a drink. Let them misunderstand as they wished—it hardly mattered, so long as his identity stayed hidden.
"Fine brew."
The winter essence melted into the yellow liquor. Come to think of it, he'd barely enjoyed such pleasures these past few days, cooped up at Cheon Sohyang's home. How long had it been since he'd savored a drink alone in a pleasure house?
Then the girl attendant appeared.
She frowned at Wang Yang twitching on the floor, then spoke softly. "The master says the first question is ready. Shall I escort the assembled heroes inside?"
"Lead on."
Even the scrawny man who'd been talking to Wang Yang glanced warily at Jang Cheon. With a faint sigh from the girl, they were ushered deeper into the inner chamber.
*
A vast room, silent save for the whisper of wind. One entire wall bore the image of a youth, depicted in eighteen exquisitely rendered sword forms.
The attendant announced, "The first question is to write the name of the martial art depicted in this painting. Take all the time you need, and submit your answer to me."
"How will we know if it's right?"
"I'll guide you to the next destination."
She pointed to the empty stairs. Only two paths: up or down.
The dozen men focused intently on the painting. So precise was the artwork that even the momentum felt palpable. The sword forms emanated a heavy, mountain-like aura.
Soon, one spoke up—a swordsman with a scholar's cap.
"I've got it."
He was Nakdo Geom, famed more for his sharp eyes and sword debates than martial skill. In less than a shichen, he took brush and ink from the attendant, wrote boldly, and looked up smugly.
Impassively, she indicated the downward stairs.
"No!"
"A fine answer, but not correct."
"The heavy sword intent and subtle footwork scream Daoist lineage! In Daoism, what sword art besides Jianglei...?"
"That's not for me to say. As I told you, it's incorrect."
"Tch!"
Nakdo Geom grimaced and departed. More time passed.
The second was a young man with a hero's band on his brow—the Azure Flag Sword Master from Jeonggeom Sect, by rumor. He wrote carefully and received approval.
"Ascend."
"Aha! I knew the key lay in the fingers!"
Before leaving, his words drew eyes to the painting's hand—index and middle fingers extended in unmistakable sword-pointing form. And only one Daoist sect was famed for it.
"Wudang!"
"Right—Wudang's Hyeonheo Gu-gung Geom!"
One by one, they solved it and climbed upward. A few erred and descended, but passers still outnumbered failures.
Soon, Jang Cheon alone remained in the vast room. He hadn't written his answer yet. Instead, he studied the painting with profound eyes.
Growing bored, the attendant asked, "Hesitating over something?"
"Hm."
Her interest piqued. She noticed his gaze lingered not on the sword fingers, but the feet.
All others had interpreted the footwork as Hyeoncheonbo, paired with Hyeonheo Gu-gung Geom.
Jang Cheon broke the silence. "Too old a memory to be sure. Not a flashy art anyway."
"You've witnessed this art firsthand?"
"......Long ago."
A cheap mask for festivals. A young man's voice emanated from behind the demon-carved wood.
The attendant sighed lightly. Long ago.
"I see. Likely the one you're thinking of is correct."
"Yes. No other answer fits."
After prolonged contemplation, Jang Cheon finally took up the brush. Six characters graced the paper: Wudang, Taiji Hyegeom.
The attendant's eyes widened briefly at the answer. Jang Cheon waited silently before her.
She glanced between him, the paper, and the painting before speaking. "Ascend. Someone did get the true answer."
Jang Cheon slowly climbed. As the last remaining, the attendant followed.
The second question awaited on the fourth floor.