Chapter 99
Chapter 99
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 99
Chapter Title: The Last Heir of the Mohists
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The place Hyeon-gak led him to was the oldest pawnshop in Bukmang-dong, called Thin Profit Pawnshop.
"Take care, then."
Once Hyeon-gak had left, Heuk Do-san sat facing the old man across a rusty iron grate.
Was he in his eighties?
The deep wrinkles cascading down his face and his hands, gaunt like pine roots, hinted at the life he had lived.
The old man eyed Heuk Do-san up and down for a long while, as if appraising an antique, before speaking.
"You've pulled out the Black Sheep Duke."
"Who is the Black Sheep Duke?"
"The master of the late Jo Gong-san, the last Juzi of the Mohists, and your father. All the same man."
His master had been a Juzi? The leader of the Mohists? His father?
"No mistake...?"
"If you're truly Jo Gong-san's eldest disciple."
Even one of those revelations would have jolted him. Hearing all three at once felt like a hammer blow to the back of Heuk Do-san's head.
The most shocking was that his father had been the last leader of the Mohists.
In the Warring States era, when countless feudal states vied for supremacy, there was one man with revolutionary ideas. Born a craftsman, he grew disillusioned with the Confucians' obsession with abstract ideals and empty rituals. He took it upon himself to gather disciples and teach.
Thus, the Mohists were born.
Disciples flocked to him, spreading the school across the land. United fiercely around their leader, the Juzi, they advocated authoritative rule while pursuing intensely practical scholarship.
When the weak in peril cried for aid, they rushed to help, no matter if it was a thousand li away. They rejected war, yet paradoxically were masters of it. None could match them in defending cities, and every Juzi was a genius of military strategy. They harnessed the craftsmen’s skills to craft all manner of war machines, wielding them in countless battles.
But Qin Shi Huang's persecution set them on the path to decline, and under Emperor Wu of Han, the policy of sole reverence for Confucianism severed their lineage entirely. By the present dynasty, even the slightest fragment of Mohist thought or learning was branded forbidden knowledge.
Who would allow scholars to study the arts of imperial rule and warfare? Mohist learning was dangerous.
Heuk Do-san could scarcely believe he was a descendant of the Mohists—let alone that his father had been their final Juzi.
"Who are you, exactly, old timer?"
"You don't remember me at all, do you? Well, it's been over thirty years."
"You mean we've met before?"
"Back then, I was a scholar steeped in Confucius and Mencius, a retainer in your household. The Black Sheep Duke never shunned me just for walking a different path. For those three years as a retainer, we debated endlessly. Voices were raised more than once. But looking back, those were the happiest days of my life."
The old man's eyes grew misty with distant memories.
After a pause, he continued.
"Then one year, I bowed deeply to him and left. Exactly one month later, I heard of the tragedy."
"Tragedy...?"
"Experts from the Eastern Depot stormed the village and slaughtered the Black Sheep Duke and everyone who followed him."
"Why would the Eastern Depot's experts...?"
"No idea how it leaked, but the Emperor seems to have learned of the Mohists' last Juzi. At first, he sent men to recruit him—offering to make him a minister to purge rivals and subdue rebellious lords. The Black Sheep Duke wrote back to the envoy. Do you know what he said?"
"What did he write?"
"He said that if the Emperor were virtuous, his rivals would have no foothold, and if his virtue were profound, the lords would kneel of their own accord—so he would have no role to play. In short, he rebuked the Emperor as unworthy of his service. Audacious, wasn't it? Heh heh heh."
"He courted death."
"To anyone not his ally, the Black Sheep Duke was a grave threat. Fearing he'd fall into enemy hands, the Emperor sent the Eastern Depot to wipe them out. Ironically, that Emperor himself was soon executed by the current one."
It was an event that might have altered the history of the realm. Though it concerned his father's death, Heuk Do-san felt strangely detached, as if hearing a snippet from some ancient chronicle.
The old man went on.
"When I returned, the village was a smoldering ruin, not a soul in sight. After much searching, I learned one of the Black Sheep Duke's retainers had smuggled out his child and fled to Shandong Province. Out of my ties to him, I traveled there and confirmed it from afar. That was Jo Gong-san, the old scholar of White Deer Academy, and you. Somehow, I ended up settling here."
Every word was astounding, impossible to accept. It felt like someone else's tale. Heuk Do-san shook his head unconsciously.
"Seems you've lost your memories?"
"How did you...?"
"Probably due to the seal."
Heuk Do-san started.
Bing-seol had once said something similar. He couldn't recall his childhood because someone had sealed it away.
"You know about the seal?"
"You're the Mohist here, not me."
"But I remember nothing. Lately, fragments have surfaced, but they tell me nothing."
"I only know hearsay myself, but I'll tell you what I do. To be precise, it's not a seal—it's the Mohist secret Transfer Inheritance Technique. The side effect just makes it feel like one."
"What's that?"
"A Mohist art that imprints a vast trove of knowledge, accumulated over a millennium in the unconscious mind. But to do so, one's thoughts must be erased first. Like emptying a vessel of poison to pour in new wine. I'd wager that's why your childhood memories vanished."
"Can't they be recovered?"
"I'll say it again: I'm no Mohist. I'm just repeating what the Black Sheep Duke told me one idle night."
If his childhood memories were gone, how could he draw out the knowledge that had taken their place?
"How do I break the seal?"
"You're taking my words too literally. It's not a seal, so there's nothing to break."
"But I don't remember anything."
"It's not remembering—it's realizing. Insights that arise when wisdom is needed, like a beast's instinct for the hunt. You've surely experienced it often in life?"
"......!"
A chill ran through him.
Suddenly, the miraculous feats at his fingertips during his wandering warrior days made sense.
"That's all from me. One last thing: the conversation I had with the Black Sheep Duke the night before I left..."
"......?"
"That night, I asked him: Ten men cross the sea in a boat that's sinking from the weight. Throw one overboard, and nine live. What would you do?"
"And?"
"He turned it on me: One ally captured in enemy territory. Rescuing him might cost nine lives. What then? What do you think I said?"
"What did you say?"
"I said I'd sacrifice the nine to save the one. Otherwise, who would risk their lives in future wars? That's righteousness. With righteousness upheld, the state stands firm."
"......?"
"Then the Black Sheep Duke replied: Sacrificing one to save nine is the same principle. But since no one has died yet, he'd seek a way for all ten to survive until the last moment. That's the study he pursued."
"Why tell me this?"
"Because it explains why your mind holds all that knowledge. Now, off with you."
* * *
Outside, a drizzle was falling.
Hyeon-gak waited under the eaves, cloaked in a straw rain cape.
'Thought he'd gone?'
"Snow until ten days ago, now rain. Means the weather's warming—but the homeless freeze more on days like this."
With that, he offered the woven straw cape. He'd come back just to give it.
"Take care."
Hyeon-gak glanced skyward.
"It's pouring like hell."
Then he trudged into the rain without looking back. His shoulders, dotted with raindrops, looked especially forlorn today.
"Got any money?"
Hyeon-gak halted and turned.
"Money for what...?"
"Buy me a drink."
"......?"
"I've said it before: nothing's free in this world. Especially if you want to use me—you pay up."
Suddenly, Hyeon-gak dashed through the mud and hugged Heuk Do-san fiercely.
"Get off! What the hell, man on man!"
* * *
After drinking himself into a stupor and crashing, Heuk Do-san slept the whole next day in the hut Hyeon-gak had provided. Whether from released tension or resolved doubts, he'd never slept so deeply.
Come to think of it, it was his first real sleep since returning to Bongrae.
As dusk fell, someone appeared.
"You were coughing?"
"Come in."
The door opened, and Heuk Ye-mong entered hesitantly, carrying a tray with a liquor bottle and cups. But the cups were wooden ones carved from paulownia.
"What's this?"
"Liquor."
"Who doesn't know that?"
"Mother said to bring it."
"Your mother? Why?"
"When forming the master-disciple bond, you bow nine times, then pour liquor three times into paulownia cups..."
The so-called Nine Bows Rite and Three Pours Rite.
Heuk Ye-mong suddenly stood and tried to bow. Heuk Do-san waved her off hurriedly. Her eyes widened round.
"I have one master already. He'd be your grandmaster. You should pay respects to him first—that's proper. We'll form the bond then."
"Yes."
"Since you brought it, pour."
She poured the liquor.
Heuk Do-san downed his cup in one gulp. The warm baijiu slid down his throat, loosening every limb.
'Liquor's best by day.'
Setting down the cup, he said,
"They say a bird alighting and departing wears down a rock over eons—that's one kalpa. The sutras say parents and children build ten thousand kalpas of karma in past lives. A master is like a father, so you and I have ten thousand kalpas tying us."
"......?"
"I'm no Buddhist, nor do I buy it all. But heed it: don't take the master-disciple bond lightly."
"I'll remember, Master."
"How far along are you with reading and writing?"
"I can write my name."
"Just your name?"
"Yes."
"Surely not... illiterate?"
"I can write my name, so not quite."
"That's not writing—it's tracing what you memorized. Ridiculous. Even for a girl, at your age, not knowing letters? What has your mother been doing? If no school, she should've at least sat you down and taught."
"I'm sorry."
Heuk Do-san was dumbfounded. A fifteen-year-old girl, healthy as she looked, illiterate.
'How long to civilize her?'
At least she'd come to her senses now. He pulled over inkstone and brush from the corner, ground ink, and boldly wrote eight characters on yellowed paper.
Heaven and Earth, dark and yellow.
Cosmos vast and wild.
"What's that?"
"Heaven and Earth, dark and yellow; cosmos vast and wild. First line of the Thousand Character Classic. Start memorizing it today, one by one."
"Why the Thousand Character Classic?"
"Why? You're my disciple—study hard."
"I thought it was martial arts."
"Martial arts out of nowhere? You're White Deer Academy's second-generation now. Study diligently, carry on the line. If you were a boy, you'd aim for officialdom and glory. Pity."
Instantly, Heuk Ye-mong's face drained white, like she'd seen a ghost. She shot up and blurted,
"S-Sorry."
Then fled without looking back.
"......!"
Heuk Do-san stared blankly at her retreating figure.
Just then, Hyeon-gak entered through the open door. He glanced at Heuk Ye-mong repeatedly, then fixed Heuk Do-san with a strange look.
"Why the weird stare?"
"No, nothing."
"What brings you?"
"Word finally came. Tonight, we meet him—the one who knows about Golden Turtle Island."