The Monk Who Beat Tung Jugang
"You run a trade, don't you? How about it — could you get your hands on some weapons for me?"
"...I'll do what I can."
Before Tung Jugang's eyes, Hong-wi had no choice but to answer that way.
"I'd be grateful."
"Even so, raising an army capable of standing against Lee Man-ju will be no easy feat."
"True. But I can't just sit idle. Before long, once we bring the Jianzhou Guard to its knees, Lee Man-ju will certainly reach out his black hand toward Anchuunbugu as well. He has feared and resented Grand Chieftain Onyan Isiha for a long, long time — and he's not the sort to forget it."
Tung Jugang sprang to his feet, clenching his fist.
"When that day comes, I'll stand and fight Lee Man-ju myself."
"Then I shall help you!"
Hong-wi rose to his feet after him, declaring it with force.
Tung Jugang's face filled with emotion.
"Thank you. But surely there's no reason for you to go this far..."
"Why would there be no reason? Those people have already accepted me — and my friend — as one of their own. That alone is reason enough."
Hong-wi's expression was earnest beyond measure.
"And more than that — there is nothing that wounds the heart quite like watching people as noble and dignified as the Onyan clan trampled at the heels of reckless, cruel men like Lee Man-ju and his sons. If I didn't know, I might not care. But knowing it and standing by to watch? I won't do it. I can't!"
"What a splendid thing to say!"
Tung Jugang's chest swelled with feeling. He clasped Hong-wi's hands in both of his own.
"The first time I laid eyes on you, I said I'd finally met a man who was a man after a long drought. Today I've learned anew that my eyes did not deceive me."
"I thank you for saying so!"
Hong-wi went on.
"But listening to you, I understand full well that the situation is anything but easy. A storm is bound to break over us before long, so we must prepare for it thoroughly. Lee Man-ju's forces would be laughably weak compared to Joseon or the Ming, but here in Jianzhou he is strong. How many troops do you suppose he commands?"
"Well, I can't say for certain, but even at the lowest estimate, a thousand or so. He could probably draw more from the tribes within his sphere of influence, but counting only his direct followers, that's about the size of it."
"A thousand men."
Hong-wi frowned.
A thousand men was an army the Ming — and even Joseon — could scrape together without breaking a sweat.
And yet within the Jianzhou Jurchens, that counted as considerable force.
"Is there anyone besides Lee Man-ju who could raise an army of that size?"
"No one. Old Tungshan of the Jianzhou Left Guard could perhaps muster six hundred at most — even drawing from his vassal tribes, he wouldn't exceed a thousand. Old Pan-chya's power is smaller than that still."
"And here at Anchuunbugu, wouldn't we be short of five hundred?"
At this hunt, nearly five hundred had gathered.
Tung Jugang shook his head.
"That number only comes from dragging in every boy and elder we have. And since the Grand Chieftain himself called the hunt, plenty came from far away. In truth, we'd have fewer. Three hundred, perhaps, if we're lucky."
"Add your brothers — twenty-odd of them — and my trading company's men, another twenty or so."
The two men fell silent, sunk deep in thought.
"Not easy. Right now we need to gather every able soul we can, more than at any time before. Is there no one else of that caliber? Not that men like you grow on trees, Jugang."
"Hmm."
Tung Jugang fell into thought for a moment — then let out a cry of sudden realization.
"Ah! One man comes to mind. There were two men in my life I fought and never managed to beat."
A smile rich with memory spread across Tung Jugang's face.
"And who were these two?"
"One was my senior brother — the man who taught me the martial arts. A long time ago now. Whether he's alive or dead today, I couldn't say."
Hong-wi could see longing flicker across Tung Jugang's face.
"And the other?"
"A monk."
"A monk?"
Hong-wi's eyes went wide.
What would a monk be doing doing in the wild lands?
"A monk at a temple?"
"Where else would a monk be?"
"No — wait, there are temples here? And monks?"
Despite himself, Hong-wi had put his foot in his mouth.
Tung Jugang only shrugged.
"Well, there is one, so of course I crossed blades with him. And that monk was no ordinary hero, let me tell you."
"Really? What was he like?"
"Once, long ago, I found myself wandering alone on a mountain path. One way or another I ended up on a stretch so narrow only one man could pass at a time, with a sheer cliff dropping away on one side. And who should come walking toward me from the other end but this monk. He was built like a mountain. Sturdier, I'd wager, than even Tasbuka there."
"Ho. What did you do?"
"A contest of nerve broke out over who'd give way first. I was young and green in those days."
Tung Jugang grinned crookedly and went on.
"The monk stroked the staff he carried — his khakkhara — and just smirked at me. And of course, I happened to be lost and empty-handed that day, no weapon to be had, so I had no choice but to step aside and let him pass first."
The khakkhara was the ringed staff that monks carried on their journeys.
"Oh dear."
"But the wretch barely even thanked me — a mumbled nothing — and just walked on. Thinking back on it, it made my blood boil... And as it happened, I looked around and spotted a birch tree growing nice and straight, so I snapped it off then and there and made myself a club."
"Haha. So you chased after him, did you?"
"I did. And when I came running, the monk clearly expected me — he was sitting in a crevice between the rocks, laughing heartily. 'So you've come for a fight, have you?' — that was his way of it."
"So you clashed?"
"We did. But that monk was such a colossus... and his khakkhara was no ordinary staff either. My club snapped clean in two at the first blow. Then he brought it down across my shoulder, and suddenly there was light flashing before my eyes. I very nearly rolled right off the cliff beside us."
"And then what happened?"
Hong-wi was utterly absorbed in the tale.
"I'd have died a traveler's death right there, but the monk seized me by the scruff of the neck. That's the only reason I lived to tell it."
"That was a close call."
"In any case, since he'd saved my life, I owed him thanks, didn't I? When I said as much, the monk flared his nostrils and said this: 'Forget the thanks — I catch the smell of well-fermented mayuju from somewhere. Bring me some of that instead.' And sure enough, I had brought mayuju along, meaning to drink it when my throat grew dry on the road."
"A monk, and he drinks too?"
"He was no ordinary one in that regard either. That brew was hardly mild to begin with, and he drained it in a single gulp — without the slightest hint of drunkenness afterward. A remarkable monk, altogether."
"What a spirited man of a monk... Do you still see him from time to time?"
"I do. Though I'd say it's been a good year since I last went to visit."
"I'd like to meet that monk myself, sometime."
Curiosity stirred in Hong-wi.
That Tung Jugang — no ordinary man himself — had never managed to beat him.
Tung Jugang smiled too.
"Then let's set a day and go see him. For tonight, let's drink merrily — to commemorate the day you arrived."
"Agreed."
Under the moonlight, the two passed the bottle back and forth, trading toasts and laughter.
Just as the bottle was running dry, Tung Jugang's friends called out.
"Chief! Where have you gone off to?"
They had been singing merrily with their arms slung over one another's shoulders — and Ho-in had slipped into the middle of them.
At the sight, a smile bloomed unbidden on Hong-wi's face.
Tung Jugang called back.
"Over here! Temusi'i is with me."
"Chief, don't let the two of you hog all the fun — come join us!"
They cried out in one voice.
Tung Jugang, perhaps feeling the wine, rose to his feet with a slight stagger. He looked back at Hong-wi and grinned.
"Well then — shall we head back?"
"Let's."
Arms over each other's shoulders, they made their way toward the others, and the sound of joyful singing rang out into the autumn night sky.
A month had nearly passed since Yu Jagwang had volunteered for the Byeolchogapsa.
They were garrisoned at Iljangsanseong, a mountain fortress in Gwangju-mok, Gyeonggi Province, some sixty li from Hanyang. Their commander was Min Bal, a bold and vigorous general in his forties this year, bearing the honorific title of Bunchung, "Ardent Loyalty."
He was a warrior of prodigious strength. When Suyang had been dispatched to Ming China as a chief envoy bearing royal condolences and gifts, Min Bal had accompanied him as his retinue — and when a band of brigands attacked them in Liaoning, Manchuria, he had turned upon them with a single great iron mace and beaten them back.
That deed had caught Suyang's eye, and so he had been appointed the first commander of the Byeolchogapsa.
Iljangsanseong, said to have first been built by King Munmu of ancient Silla under the name Jujangseong, was high and rugged, granting easy entry to no outsider — and yet within its walls flowed a spring that never ran dry even in drought, and there were fields besides, making it ideal ground for a standing garrison.
There could have been no better place for a newly formed special unit to make its camp.
Yet even after nearly a month inside, Yu Jagwang still could not fathom what the Byeolchogapsa had been organized to do.
In truth, even the name byeolcho meant nothing more than "specially selected unit" — it carried no particular significance of its own.
What he could piece together suggested only this: the Byeolchogapsa was a truly secret organization, and utterly merit-driven.
Yu Jagwang was of lowborn birth, an eolja barred from high office despite his veteran record as a gapsa — and here he was commanding a sopae, a ten-man squad. That said everything.
Since taking up the post of Sopaejang, Yu Jagwang had gradually asked his fellow squad leaders and the men under him how they had come to be here.
Most, it seemed, had been quietly recommended, just as he had.
Few had volunteered after merely hearing rumors of the byeolcho.
If they shared anything in common, it was that they all lived in Hanyang, and had no families or dependents trailing after them.
From these facts, Yu Jagwang's gut told him this unit called byeolcho had been raised for no ordinary purpose.
Could it be that we're meant to be used for some secret affair and then discarded?
That had been his first thought.
But for a disposable force, there were men of surprisingly high standing among them.
His fellow Sopaejang Kim Gyeon-su was one such — and no minor appointment either, but a Seonjeongwan, a Royal Herald of all things.
That was a post reserved for trusted sons of meritorious officials, handpicked by Suyang to guard the king's palanquin and bear his military commands.
Beyond him there were men like Jang Hyo-son and Kang I-gyeong — not mere soldiers, but commanders in the full sense, men of both pen and sword.
What in the world are men like these doing in the byeolcho?
Yu Jagwang was baffled.
Naturally, not everyone met with his approval.
Chief among them was one Jo Gyeong-chi — a man who had joined the Gyeyu coup, earned merit for it, and risen to Gwonji Training Record Officer: a temporary post, granted, but a post nonetheless.
He kept company with one Yi Ji-jeong, a fellow Wonjong merit subject.
"I'm a Wonjong merit subject, a merit subject! The king has marked me — I'm bound for greatness, I tell you."
Whenever the chance presented itself, the two swaggered about their Wonjong title.
In Yu Jagwang's eyes, they were pitiable beyond words.
The Wonjong merit list was a distinction even a worthless menial like Lim Eoul-un could be slapped onto. A man who had truly rendered great service and caught the king's eye would never have stalled out in a temporary or sinecure post.
No doubt they had volunteered for the byeolcho with nothing in their heads but climbing the ladder.
Their martial skill was at least passable, which — compared to the rest — made them worth Yu Jagwang's attention, if nothing else.
The others left no particular impression on him.
Of those whose names he had at least learned through introductions, there were Go Bok-ro and O Chi-gwon, and the brothers Park Ja-ha and Park Ja-jeon.
Each fancied himself something of a talent, but in Yu Jagwang's judgment, none measured up.
In any case — what on earth was this Byeolchogapsa built for? If they merely wanted arrow-fodder whose deaths wouldn't matter, a man like Kim Gyeon-su would never have entered as a common gapsa. But the unit has no real name, just "byeolcho" — and then there's the fact that they've gathered idle men hungry for advancement, men with few or no dependents... that snags at me too.
There was, at least, one thread worth pulling regarding the byeolcho's purpose.
It was the presence of Kim Jung-seon, a scouting gapsa from Pyongan Province, and Mun Hyo-ryang, said to be of frontier Jurchen blood.
Unlike the ordinary idlers, these two were veterans of many real battles — and they were posted not as ordinary Byeolchogapsa but as gyodu, training instructors.
Yet one thing about them was peculiar: they were not teaching martial arts or fieldcraft. They were teaching the Jurchen tongue and customs.
So they do mean to do something involving the frontier tribes — but why?
There would be no reason to teach the Jurchen language and ways unless the unit intended to deal with the frontier peoples themselves.
And if so?
Yu Jagwang sank into long, careful thought.
The likelihood of upheaval on the northern border had not seemed especially high, even since the death of Yi Jing-ok.
Lee Man-ju had been a thorn in the frontier's side since King Sejong's day, true — but no one had ever heard that he had provoked trouble grave enough to raise an army.
Nor had word come that Moryeonwei intended any rebellion.
At the very least, nothing had spread so far as Hanyang.
So why — for what possible reason — had they created this new unit called byeolcho and set men to teaching the Jurchen tongue and customs?
While Yu Jagwang was lost in thought, his friend and vice squad leader Kim Jeong-geun came over and spoke to him.
"Yu-hyeong, what are you brooding over so hard?"
"Ah... nothing much. Just thinking."
Yu Jagwang shrugged.
Kim Jeong-geun was a fellow Geunchunmun gapsa, and the two were thick as thieves.
"They say a new gyodu has arrived, hyeongnim. And word is another batch of recruits came in as well."
"Is that so? More fresh recruits, eh."