A Slap to Prove His Mettle
Teolbo let out a snort, then cracked his knuckles one by one, producing a series of dull pops.
"I'll grant ye one thing—ye've got no sense of fear. Oi, Tucheonggae! Get over here."
"Yes, sir."
"Seems our young master here wants to show us whether he's really a man or not. Think ye can oblige?"
At Teolbo's taunting words, the man called Tucheonggae rose with a wicked grin. He looked like he had plenty of muscle to throw around.
But then Hong-wi spoke up.
"If we're going to do this, I'd rather face you myself."
Teolbo's jaw dropped wide open. He looked less surprised than utterly dumbfounded.
The other porters stared blankly at the young master as if he'd lost his mind—then burst out laughing all at once.
Hong-wi calmly repeated himself.
"You're their leader, aren't you? Then what would be the point of me fighting underlings just to earn recognition? Wouldn't beating the man they follow do that better?"
"Hah……"
Teolbo no longer bothered to hide his astonishment. Without a word, he sprang to his feet and stepped squarely in front of Hong-wi.
"Ye sure ye won't regret this? Ye'll be losing face in front of all these folks."
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
Teolbo snorted, as if there were nothing more to ask.
"Your courage, I'll grant, is admirable. But ye ought to know better than to flaunt it at the wrong moment. Well then—since ye insist, let's have at it!"
"How do we settle this?"
"Hmm, well, Master Pushan did speak up for ye…… so I'll go easy on the technique. Let's see if ye can take three slaps to the face."
It was plainly an attempt to humor Hong-wi, in Teolbo's own mind anyway.
Hong-wi answered in kind.
"Take all the time you like. But will you be able to endure three slaps from me?"
"Hah!"
At that, Teolbo's face stiffened at once. He spun around and shrugged off his fur-lined jacket, tossing it aside. Two porters scrambled to catch it, while the rest huddled together and muttered among themselves.
"That young master seems to think he'll even get the chance to land three. One slap from the chief and he'll drop like a sack of rice."
Hong-wi, too, pulled off his upper garment and handed it to Ho-in, who wore an expression drenched in worry. Cha Gyeong-yeon, meanwhile, was grinning from ear to ear.
"I trust my lessons have taken root, Your Highness."
"Well, we'll see, won't we? If not, the disgrace will be mine."
Hong-wi rose and squared his stance. With his torso bared, his figure was truly a sight to behold—snow-white skin stretched over taut, well-honed muscle that rippled with his every movement. Had the old palace retainers seen him like this, they would have fainted in shock. Even the Jurchen porters whistled in admiration, pursing their lips.
"Did ye see that arm? Looks like the pup's not just a pup after all."
"Face of a pretty wench, but the body's built proper."
"Still won't do him any good against the chief."
They turned to look at Teolbo. His blunt, unreadable expression gave nothing away—he simply flexed his brawny arms and glowered at Hong-wi in silence. Hong-wi answered the stare with a smile and planted himself directly before him.
He was, if anything, slightly the taller of the two, looking down on Teolbo from a small advantage.
"Go first."
Teolbo raised an eyebrow at that, then let out a rough laugh. He spat into his palm, rubbed them together, and squared up. Hong-wi drew a deep breath and braced his legs.
Crack!
Hong-wi's body jerked with the blow, and a low chorus of admiration rippled through the onlookers.
Teolbo looked down at the hand that had just slashed across Hong-wi's cheek, then back up at his face. The struck cheek was already swelling red—the blow had been no idle tap.
"Next."
Brows knitting slightly, Teolbo wound up for the second strike. Another sharp crack, and Hong-wi's head snapped further than before—but he still held his ground.
Teolbo's eyes widened.
This pup…… he's still standing?
When Hong-wi did not fall even on the second blow, a flicker of unease crept across Teolbo's face. He stared down at his own thick hands and clenched his teeth. Closing the distance, he swung once more with everything he had.
CRACK!
This time even Hong-wi staggered a little—but he managed, once again, not to fall. A hushed chorus of disbelief echoed from every side.
"Not bad at all."
Teolbo finally spoke, his voice threaded with surprise and bewilderment. Hong-wi slowly shook his head and gave a faint smile.
"My turn now, isn't it?"
His left cheek, having taken three blows in a row, had swollen up tight, and his words came out slightly mumbled. Teolbo nodded. With a grunt, he spread his feet wide, planted them firmly in the earth, and braced for the slap.
So the pup's got a harder head than I reckoned…… but no matter how sharp a whelp's hand is, how sharp can it truly be?
Hong-wi swung his right arm back once, reset his balance, and drew a deep breath. The next instant, he brought his palm cracking up like a lightning bolt.
SMACK!
The sound rang out sharp and stinging—so loud and crisp that even the spectators flinched.
"Now that's a fine stinging slap."
Teolbo swayed slightly, rubbing his cheek as he muttered to himself.
"What in the devil…… something's gone proper wrong here. A lad with a wench's face just landed a slap like a thunderclap."
"Two more to go. Do you yield?"
Hong-wi smiled brightly. Teolbo's mouth fell open in disbelief, then he spat out his words like he was chewing and swallowing gristle.
"Hah…… don't ye go looking down on me. Come on, then, bring it!"
Teolbo spread his feet a little wider. Hong-wi, smiling, drew his right arm back once more. Another thunderous smack! split the air, and the laborers each squeezed their eyes shut or let out whistles.
Teolbo's body rocked harder than before, but again he endured it. Still, there was no helping the staggering—he shook his head back and forth, side to side.
"Last one…… last one!"
"As you wish."
Hong-wi answered quietly as Teolbo gritted through it. The next instant, a blow like a winter whirlwind struck fire across the man's left cheek. A strike that might have toppled a stone wall left Teolbo momentarily dazed and blinking.
The porters swallowed hard.
"……Seongnime?"
At Tucheonggae's question, Teolbo began to grin—or rather, he tried to. Just as a smile seemed to spread across his face, he toppled over backward, flat on the ground. Tucheonggae and the porters gaped dumbly at the sight, then came swarming over in a rush.
"Chief! Chief!"
"Are you all right, sir?"
A moment later, Teolbo managed to sit upright with hands propping him on either side, rubbing his cheek. He looked like a man who had tumbled down from the clouds, opened his eyes, and was trying to work out where on earth he had landed. Touching his ear gingerly, as though it belonged to someone else, he grumbled:
"That slap's sharp as a blade, I'll give it that. Ah, damn it all! I wonder if the pup's gone and put my left ear out of use for good. Yei, blasted—out of the way, all of you!"
As Tucheonggae and the porters shuffled back, Teolbo shook his head hard from side to side, rattling it like a wet dog, and struggled unsteadily to his feet. Hong-wi stood waiting with a composed expression. Teolbo glared at him and growled through gritted teeth:
"Ain't done yet, not by half. So yer hand's worth its salt—but I've yet to see what ye can do with a weapon. Settle it with staff arts, shall we?"
"Anytime."
Hong-wi answered without hesitation. Over the past few months, studying under Cha Gyeong-yeon, he had picked up a fair measure of spear-and-staff technique as well.
When Teolbo glanced around, the porters eagerly thrust their clubs forward. He picked out the sturdiest, weightiest one among them. Seeing this, Hong-wi turned to Cha Gyeong-yeon.
"Here, Your Highness."
Cha Gyeong-yeon grinned and handed over a hefty club of paulownia-hardwood. Taking it, Hong-wi strode straight toward Teolbo. The two men each took up their positions and glowered at one another with fierce eyes. The tall porter who had earlier been called Ichigeo swallowed hard and raised his voice.
"Begin!"
As the two men, gripping their clubs tightly, dropped into their stances, the onlookers each felt their palms sweat. They were watching, by all accounts, the most thrilling fight they had ever witnessed.
Hong-wi coolly studied his opponent. Teolbo, it seemed, still had his ears ringing from that unexpectedly ferocious slap—he kept tilting his head lightly to the left. Even so, his stance was solidly grounded in the fundamentals. His movements were cautious; he had plainly reassessed Hong-wi as no pushover.
"Come on then, show me what ye've got."
"Gladly—I'll take the first move."
Hong-wi answered the taunt with perfect composure. The next instant, the two men collided with force. Hong-wi was agile as a leaping tiger, but Teolbo, too, moved with a quickness that defied his bulk. Their clubs smashed together with a dull thud, and both sprang apart at once—only to hurl themselves at each other again.
Even after a dozen exchanges in a flash, no winner emerged. It was a true clash of dragon and tiger. From time to time the two would retreat, gasping for breath, and then—after only a moment's rest—lock together more furiously than before. And in the midst of it all, they were quietly marveling at each other's skill.
While the crowd watched the fierce struggle with bated breath, Cha Gyeong-yeon simply stood by with his arms crossed, smiling to himself. Ho-in edged up to him.
"Aren't you going to do something besides just watch?"
"Like what?"
"Well…… shouldn't somebody stop them? If this goes on, His Highness might—"
Ho-in swallowed the last half of the sentence down his own throat. It was absurd to think these frontier porters could understand a word of Joseon speech—but old habits died hard.
Cha Gyeong-yeon snorted.
"What, afraid His Highness might come to harm? Save yourself the worry, friend. He won't be beaten easily."
Cha Gyeong-yeon was confident. He knew Hong-wi's ability better than anyone alive, and from watching the sparring so far, he had a fair measure of Teolbo's too. In real combat experience, Teolbo likely had the edge—but in technique, Hong-wi, taught by Cha Gyeong-yeon's own hand, was the superior.
"Still…… from the look of it, that fellow's no slouch either."
"True enough. He's well past the level of some ordinary brawler."
Cha Gyeong-yeon agreed with that. There was no sign of formal training in the man's martial arts, but Teolbo was hardly someone who could be brushed aside lightly. He glanced at the porters. Their devotion to their chief was unmistakably sincere.
"He's got real standing with his men, it seems……"
"Looks that way."
Ho-in answered absently, fists clenched as he watched the fight. Cha Gyeong-yeon fell into thought. Hong-wi was not the kind to lose to Teolbo—and in truth, if he wished not to be underestimated, he absolutely could not lose. But was shattering Teolbo and shaming him before his own men really the best outcome? Teolbo had his pride to think of, in front of his people—and everything they had seen of him so far said as much.
Better to patch this up while letting him keep his face.
Having decided, Cha Gyeong-yeon clapped his hands and stepped forward.
"You two! Rest your arms a moment!"
At his shout, Hong-wi smoothly withdrew his club and stepped back a few paces. Teolbo lowered his weapon as well, frowning.
"Oi, what's this monkey business, calling a halt mid-fight?"
His words were as rough as ever, but his manner had softened considerably. Indeed, Teolbo himself had been inwardly impressed by Hong-wi's skill. Cha Gyeong-yeon called out with an easy smile.
"Truly a match for the ages, you two. You both look spent—why not catch your breath, and then settle the contest properly?"
At that, Hong-wi and Teolbo stared at each other for a long moment—and then, neither one first nor last, both burst out laughing.
"Very well, then. Let's catch our breath."
"Let's."
Their bodies were already soaked in sweat, steam rising off them in wisps. They each leaned against their clubs, drawing deep breaths. Ho-in rushed to Hong-wi's side and handed him a gourd of water, while the porters hurried over to Teolbo with their own water vessels. Neither man refused; they gulped the water down greedily.
"Haaah……"
Teolbo wiped the moisture from his bristly beard and broke into a grin.
"Fine work, that. Truth be told, until just now I meant to flatten ye in a single blow."
Hong-wi liked the bluntness and good humor of the man's manner, and answered readily in kind.
"As did I! Though it seems I misjudged you—you're excellent yourself."
Teolbo roared with laughter at that.
"So that's why the greenhorn snatched the head merchant's seat right out from under old Hwang Ga—he's no greenhorn after all!"
From the sound of it, Teolbo held Hwang Ga in considerable respect. Hong-wi called back warmly:
"You never know a man's measure until you've crossed hands with him, as they say."
"Ha! Ye can say that again!"
Teolbo laughed heartily.
"Well, we've had our breather. What d'ye say—shall we settle it?"
"Yes, let's!"
The two squared off again. Having found a worthy match in each other, the way they regarded one another had softened considerably—but the ferocity of their fighting was undiminished; if anything, it burned hotter still. Ten exchanges, twenty…… the fight was rising to a roiling crest, at its very height, when it happened.
Teolbo leapt back to evade Hong-wi's club sweeping in low—and stumbled. He had failed to notice the sunken hollow in the ground and misstepped.
"Ugh!"
He fought desperately to regain his balance, but his spent legs betrayed him; his body tilted, and he half-collapsed where he stood. It was a chance in a hundred—the perfect moment to finish it.
The porters stamped and shouted in alarm.
"Chief!"
Teolbo braced himself for the finishing blow and squeezed his eyes shut. But nothing happened.
"What are you doing?"
"Wh…… what?"
At Hong-wi's voice, Teolbo opened his eyes.