You can do it. (1)
The large writing brush [거필(巨筆)] grasped in a broad hand swept boldly across the signboard [편액(扁額)].
The phrase “like dragons and serpents soaring through the sky [용사비등(龍蛇飛騰)]” suited the calligraphy perfectly. A black line in which great power mingled with delicate precision painted four characters onto the whitish board.
Tap.
“Hmm.”
The middle-aged man who had set down the brush and gazed at the inscription for a long while finally twitched his brows and shook his head. Without a hint of regret, he slid the board he’d been holding aside and drew a fresh, spotless board to himself.
“Ah, really.”
“…Hm?”
“They all look the same – what difference is worth all this fuss? Writing it over and over again… Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“All the same, you say, you brat.”
Chung Mun, the middle-aged man, glaring, picked up the signboard he had set aside, pointing at one diagonal stroke.
“Look here, look! Isn’t the stroke just the slightest bit crooked?”
“So where is it crooked, exactly?”
“Here! Right here, you rascal! Can’t you see?”
“……Even an ant wouldn’t notice.”
Chung Myung muttered, rubbing his throbbing head. The singboards left as ‘failures’ were piling up neatly before his eyes.
“Why waste your strength on something so trivial? You could scrawl it and hand it over – they’d thank you even if you wrote it with your toes.”
“Oh… ho.”
Yet Chung Mun shook his head firmly.
“They asked because they trust the main sect. I cannot but put my heart into it.”
“Yeah, yeah. If you say so.”
Chung Myung let out a heavy sigh.
It happened now and then: a secular disciple who had gone down the mountain would open a martial arts hall and ask the main sect’s Sect Leader to inscribe its signboard.
But of the many requests that came several times each year, was there anyone besides this man who answered every single one with such sincerity – no, with such relentless persistence?
Resting his chin on his hand while watching Chung Mun immerse himself once more in the calligraphy, Chung Myung suddenly turned and looked out the window at the sky.
The faint sounds of insects and birds chirping drifted in. From afar came the sound of someone training, and the fierce wind of Hwasan sweeping past the windows.
“Is something troubling you?”
When he turned back, Chung Mun – who had set down the brush at some point – was staring holes into Chung Myung.
“Troubling me? What troubles could I possibly have, stuck in this boring Taoist temple?”
“But your face says otherwise.”
“I said there aren’t any.”
“Speak. I’ll hear you out.”
“Good grief.”
Chung Myung did a big stretch, letting the tension drop from his body, and leaned his back against the wall behind him.
“It’s just that a thought came to me.”
“…What kind of thought?”
“Sahyeong, why do people live?”
A strange silence fell. Chung Mun’s expression twisted in an odd way. For a moment, he looked like someone who had seen what he ought not see and heard what he ought not hear, then he tilted his head.
“Did you eat something that gone bad?”
“You told me to speak, didn’t you? Said you’d listen! Ugh, see, this is why I didn’t want to say anything!”
Chung Myung huffed and sprang to his feet. Chung Mun hurriedly cleared his throat and tried to stop him.
“N-No, it’s just… I was too taken aback. How shall I put it… It felt like watching the puppy Chung Hwa keeps suddenly say: ‘Master. Since I am now a Taoist being, I no longer wish to eat meat,’ – and then solemnly refuse any more meat.”
“Don’t explain!”
“Uh… a-hem, fine.”
Chung Mun nodded vaguely, still dazed. Grinding his teeth, Chung Myung nonetheless flopped back into his seat.
Chung Mun’s expression turned quite serious.
“Why live… is that what you want to know?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.”
At Chung Myung’s brusque reply, Chung Mun smiled faintly. There was something almost dizzying in that expression. Chung Myung, forgetting his anger, gazed blankly at that face.
“Why live, you ask…. Who knows.”
Chung Mun slowly stroked his beard.
“I don’t really know, either.”
“…”
“Perhaps we live simply because we were born? Because that’s the natural course.”
Chung Myung, who had straightened his back in anticipation, leaned it against the wall again.
“But why do you ask that all of a sudden?”
“It’s not that I have any special reason.”
Chung Myung spoke indifferently and cast a sidelong glance out the window. Then he saw people training in the distance. He watched them for a while, their sweat scattering in the sunlight, then spoke quietly in a subdued voice.
“We all die anyway. That’s the end of it. No matter what we do, the result is the same… Sometimes it just feels stupid, all this struggling.”
“…Hmph.”
“Even after busting their guts like that, all they get is to become just a bit stronger than others. So wouldn’t it be easier to just give up and live comfortably? What’s the point of putting yourself through all that hardship?”
“Hmmmmm.”
Chung Mun rubbed his chin as though pondering seriously, then nodded deeply.
“It’s not wrong.”
“Come on, you old man!”
“…..What?”
Chung Myung pointed at Chung Mun with an expression of sheer disbelief.
“You’re the Sect Leader for heaven’s sake – you can’t admit that! You should say it’s wrong!”
“How can I call what’s right wrong?”
“……I should have just kept my mouth shut.”
Chung Myung shook his head as if drained, let out a hollow laugh at how absurd it all seemed the more he thought about it, and once again looked out the window.
After a brief silence, Chung Myung spoke again.
“Then… do you also think all of that is meaningless, Sahyeong?”
“It could be.”
“What do you mean, ‘it could be’?”
“Or it might have meaning.”
“You mule-headed…”
Chung Mun let out a hearty laugh at Chung Myung, who looked ready to burst.
“Because both of them are true.”
“How can they both be true? If one is right, the other has to be wrong.”
“Not necessarily.”
“…What?”
Turning a warm gaze towards the window, Chung Mun went on.
“Meaning isn’t absolute, you see.”
“…”
“Whether something has meaning or not is decided only by people.”
Chung Mun looked at the singboard lying before him.
“As you said, to some this signboard is nothing but a meaningless board.”
“…”
“But to the one who asked for it, this means more than anything.”
Closing his eyes softly, Chung Mun gently stroked the corner of the board.
“It’s the same for everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“The world is just the world, and life is just life – nothing particularly special.”
“…”
“It is only people who decide what meaning to give that world, where to seek the meaning of their own lives. To someone those drops of sweat may be worthless, but to someone else they could be of value beyond exchange.”
When Chung Myung remained silent, Chung Mun asked gently.
“Do you feel empty?”
“It was just a thought. I’m young, after all – well, younger than you and the other seniors.”
“True.”
“And my martial arts are a bit stronger, too.”
“True.”
“So no matter how I see it, it feels like everyone will die before I do.”
“…”
“Then is there any particular meaning for me to keep on living? It doesn’t sound fun. Well… it’s not especially fun right now, either.”
Chung Mun, who had been listening, let out a small laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
“It’s the kids who’ll be left with you once we’re gone that worry me. You, well…”
“But this old man has really been like this from the start!”
Chung Mun rose from his seat and walked slowly towards the window where Chung Myung was.
Then, standing before the window, he raised the hand he had clasped behind his back and rested it atop Chung Myung’s head.
“If you move forward, that’s enough.”
“…”
“I told you, didn’t I? Meaning is something only people decide. The you of now and the you of then will be different, so when that time comes, simply find the meaning that belongs to you then. Don’t cling to the past, don’t desperately hold on to what you’ve lost, just…”
Warmth spread from Chung Mun’s hand resting on his head. Looking up blankly at Chung Mun gazing out the window, Chung Myung asked.
“Move forward?”
“Mm.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just sit down and rest?”
“Hmm. Indeed….. That could be. There’s its own delight in sitting comfortably and enjoying the scenery.”
“No, I mean….”
“But you see.”
Chung Mun looked down at Chung Myung and smiled gently.
“If you keep moving forward… might you not see the scenery you haven’t seen until now?”
“…”
“Perhaps, somewhere out there, you’ll find something that will make your life feel worthwhile.”
Chung Myung stared silently at Chung Mun’s smiling face for a moment, then swiftly turned his head.
“It’s not meaningless right now, you know?”
“Is that so? Haha.”
Chung Mun’s low laughter spread through the room.
The thick scent of ink, the birdsong drifting in from outside the window, the sunlight pouring down as if to embrace them, and…
❀ ❀ ❀
Thud.
Chung Myung pressed his hand against the ground.
He couldn’t see. Nothing at all. It was as if he’d gone blind.
There was no feeling left in his hands or feet. He couldn’t tell whether he was alive or dead.
He didn’t know. He had experienced death, and yet, at the same time, he hadn’t.
Press.
Even so, Chung Myung forced his body upright once more.
He wanted to rest. If he just lay down like this, everything would become easier. No one could accuse him of falling short. After all, Chung Myung has already gone beyond his limits.
Yes. He has done enough. So this wasn’t mere stubbornness.
‘Move forward…….’
If nothing can be seen, if no reason or meaning can be found, then simply move forward.
“Right… perhaps…….”
Chung Myung’s lips curled faintly.
Whether he lived or died did not matter. Nothing would change. He just moved forward, because the meaning of his life would be there at the end.
Only…
‘Sahyeong… you were wrong.’
It is not necessarily only ahead of him, only in the future.
He felt something pushing gently at his back.
‘That wasn’t all there was.’
Chung Myung is the one who connects – the link that joins the unreachable past and unattainable future.
Yes. That alone was enough.
But now, he understood. Chung Myung, too, was walking the future they had so longed for. Chung Myung, too, was the future that Chung Mun had so desperately wanted to protect.
Therefore, he must destroy it.
The one before his eyes, the one blocking his path.
The lingering resentment that must be shaken off, the anger with no place to go, the other self that slumped down in that spot, unable to find the way forward.
Drag.
His feet dragged along the ground. With every difficult step, he staggered as if he might collapse, yet he kept moving forward – one painful step after another.
Twitch.
Perhaps he had felt that movement.
Jang Ilso, as though responding in kind, stubbornly planted his hands on the ground. Like the withered pine tree slowly stretching its branches, he surrendered to instinct and struggled to push himself upright.
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Within arm’s reach, in a haze of dulled senses, they recognized each other. Chung Myung stepped forward, and Jang Ilso instinctively stepped back.
At last, Chung Myung’s fist – so exhausted it could barely carry any strength – flew towards Jang Ilso’s face.
The fist was so slow it was almost hard to bother getting hit by it. Jang Ilso’s eyes widened.
‘Me?’
But because he had stepped back, Jang Ilso could not evade that punch. His body, pushed to its limits, was spending everything it had just to keep his tilted frame from collapsing.
Wham!
Chung Myung’s fist slammed into Jang Ilso’s jaw. Jang Ilso’s body crumpled backward.
‘Because I retreated…’
Crash!
A giant of the era, the overlord of the Evil Sects.
The body of Paegun Jang Ilso collapsed just like that.
________
WHEN WRITER BIGA IS SUDDENLY BACK OMG!?!! He puts a knife in my heart and twists it wth? Cmun flashback made me sob. The language in the second pov, too? Spectacular, beautiful.
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Return of the Mount Hua 
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