-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Chundangdae Avengers (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
And soon enough, the news I'd been waiting for finally arrived.
They were going to hold the Chundangdae Exam sometime soon—the special on-the-spot exam where the king personally graces Chundangdae in Changgyeong Palace. It was an unscheduled special exam, not on the calendar.
About a dozen years from now, our most holy sovereign—the one who would end up having his own son murdered in a torture scene straight out of a horror flick—issued the following edict:
"Maintain the dignity befitting your high stations?" Yeah, I don't want to hear that from you.
So, he floated the idea, but the high ministers were lukewarm on expanding initiation ritual punishments (even though he'd done it himself before)? He figures he can't waste political capital on something this trivial or rack up debts with the opposition?
Throw out a few red placards telling them to quit the faction fights and shut up preemptively. Got it.
Of course, I didn't hear this edict directly. Park Jiwon heard it from his grandfather and passed it on to me.
Park Jiwon chuckled irreverently as he dissected the king's words.
"With just one swing of your stick, brother, the path ahead for all scholars has brightened. Oh, this calls for a poem."
I rolled my eyes in disgust.
To put it more politically, King Yeongjo had sensed discontent among other officials during the exoneration of the Four Ministers and the welfare measures for their descendants from this incident.
So, just like "the annals of past sage-kings" always did, he's tossing out some exam passes to soothe the grumblings. Joseon civil service exams don't obligate appointments upon passing anyway, so it's no real burden to open one.
Perfect. All I need right now is one of those red passes.
I didn't mind Park Jiwon teasing me at all. My soul was on the line here. In a way, I'd pioneered the future.
Anyway, if rumors were already circulating, the official announcement would come later.
And based on past precedents, something would inevitably clash, leading to at least two postponements, so plenty of time before the actual exam.
Park Jiwon asked,
"With the edict spreading the word far and wide, the special exam is certain whenever it happens. You must redouble your studies from here on."
"Right. Did I tell you the high scholar your grandfather the Vice Minister sent was an outstanding quasi-recluse?"
"Yes. Grandfather called you 'one who understands my intent.' No idea what he meant."
Heh heh. That's because you're still young.
Its true meaning would dawn on him eventually or his grandfather would explain, so I didn't elaborate. Instead, as I'd told Park Jiwon, I threw myself into diligent study.
For real. I actually studied.
My father admired my passion, scribbling until the paper turned pitch black all day long. My brother grew jealous. Mother fretted over her baby boy's health and sent servants everywhere to fetch the finest medicines.
Of course, all I did was practice writing faster.
Unlike passive skills, active skills required focus to activate, and practice boosted proficiency. If passive skills were raw strength, active skills felt like sports or martial arts.
Two months later, I could write in Han Seokbong's calligraphy—practically perfect printed seal script—at three times normal speed.
This put me among the top scribes in all Joseon. I could've moonlighted as a mercenary scribe for others' exams right away. It was a godsend, since I'd poured the entire budget into Go Bonghwan and couldn't afford to hire one.
No one on my raid team cared about officialdom anyway, so no need for multiple scribes. I had to maximize this advantage. My goal: top 10.
That autumn, half a year after arriving in Joseon, the Chundangdae Exam was finally confirmed.
And by then, I was fully prepared.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
After bidding farewell to my parents, I arrived at Changgyeong Palace, home of the exam grounds—Chundangdae.
The crowd of examinees rivaled the one from the Chundangdae Exam ten years prior.
Yeongjo reigned the longest in Joseon history and held the most exams. I'd downloaded all trends and countermeasures from star instructor Go Bonghwan. Especially for this repeat special exam.
So I wasn't fazed by the premodern horde that'd be impossible outside wartime. Last time, over 15,000 official examinees alone.
'Looks like about 40-50,000 total, so maybe 10,000 actual examinees. More if idiots show up solo. Within expectations.'
As Go Bonghwan had said, exams normally required passing the preliminary, being a Sungkyunkwan student, or institutional recommendation with name registration. Crowds this big shouldn't happen.
But by this era, identity checks were lax. That's how I knew upfront Go Bonghwan had no appointment ambitions.
With that sorted, I glanced ahead.
Proctors were central officials, elites even at the bottom rung. They wouldn't show amid this noisy chaos at Changgyeong Palace's gates.
Just clerks barking orders and black-clad slaves scurrying about. Some examinees peeking prematurely got clubbed.
From the vibe, the exam hall doors would open soon.
Is this how soldiers feel awaiting the first shot?
I took a deep breath. Then surveyed my proud comrades.
Eoji had recovered much intellect after normal work. Speech still slurred, but comprehension and action were fine.
With a topknot and tidy robes, he looked decent. Even had that historical drama bodyguard vibe—bold lines, massive build, the reliable husband type Joseon maidens swoon for.
Reliable to me too. Gripping an extra-large umbrella suited to his frame like a twig—solid.
Umbrellas were exam essentials for long sits. I'd had this one carved from sturdy wood for dual purposes. Cost a pretty penny.
I clapped Eoji's shoulder.
"Nail this, and I'll treat you to a feast that'd snap the table. Bash anyone blocking the way."
Eoji memorized my words like an oracle.
"Blockers, all. Beat and chase."
"Good. Repeat it. No exceptions—whoever. Noble factions, aristocrat brats, doesn't matter. Smash, break, trample—put 'em down in one hit. I'll handle the fallout. Just get us to the front."
Anyone judging my character, recall what I'm staking on this exam first.
I issued the order without hesitation, then grabbed my next comrade's hand.
Go Bonghwan. Eoji and Jangbok didn't know the walls (who knows what slaves blab over drinks), so I whispered,
"You're next, teacher."
"No worries. But if it works... as promised..."
"You'll get a handsome 'reward' with no regrets, plus my peers and father's associates' sons will all vie to hire you."
He had the skills of a star instructor but was young and unknown. Promotion was key.
I promised it with the cash. The spiritual legacy of Kim Changjip's heyday as Noron core still lingered in the Jangdong Kim clan. No wealth, but connections to spread word.
Correction: Father had them. But in this era, filial piety meant kids owed parents big.
I turned to the last member. Jangbok, our house apothecary's licorice boy.
"You too, no skimping. I know you and that Hwanghwabang Song scholar's maid have been making eyes. Pass this, and I swear I'll tell Father to send a matchmaker. Your job—scout quick, carry luggage, grab items, adapt on the fly—is toughest. No slacking or goofing off."
Total 'raid leader' was Jangbok's role. He thumped his chest.
"I'm ignorant, but I've heard masters trust old retainers. I've served since your first topknot—not just a slave, but a veteran minister. Entrust it to me."
"Good."
This team is invincible. We're the best in Joseon!
The tens of thousands at the exam grounds didn't faze me. None more desperate than me.
Then came the drawn-out shout and brass horn blast. The doors swung open.
I clenched my fist and bellowed,
"Let's go! Eoji, you're up!"
"Raaargh!"
With Eoji's tiger roar, we all charged.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Per Go Bonghwan, with this mob going feral, the king probably returned to the palace early.
Makes sense—this exam substitutes for the second literary round; no rule says the king must attend in person.
Too late to crack down fully—numbers and time make it impossible, undermining the special exam's point of boosting scholars' morale. But staying risks escort hassles.
Not assassins, but cranky petitioners.
Not just grievance filers, but those dodging exams by offering palace treasures for fast-track posts. Annoying. Just two years ago, some Chundangdae reject offered Taewon and Sukjong-era petitions from his clan's glory days and snagged a post.
"Shame. Hoped to glimpse His Majesty's face from afar."
Go Bonghwan smacked his lips, but I wasn't disappointed at all.
Perfect for us to run wild.
"What the hell is that monster?!"
"Who dressed a beast in human clothes?!"
Amid scholars' and servants' wails—hats torn, noses crushed—Eoji pressed on.
"Clear... the way!"
"Grab that lunatic!"
Three rushed him. Better to tackle a mad bull.
Eoji charged like a pro running a touchdown. With a primal bellow, he shrugged off three grown men.
One unlucky sod screamed as Eoji stomped his calf—probably shattered. Lifelong limp unless super lucky. My condolences.
I knew his strength, but not like this.
Adrenaline-pumped Eoji was way stronger than daily work mode. Dull thuds sent men flying like leaves. Humans don't fly meters from a shove—cartoon physics?
"Heavens... Is he a god-man?"
Go Bonghwan muttered, forgetting to run after him.
Eoji executed faithfully—one-shotting obstacles.
Umbrella-swing fells one like a baseball; other hand chucks collars; kicks clear the front.
Eight or nine dropped instantly. Panic cursing and shoving opened a path.
"Now! Run, Jangbok!"
"Got it!"
Jangbok bolted, booksack slung (too late to ask how books get in). We followed, leaving Eoji to brawl. Smooth sailing. If it stays this way...
Suddenly, a man's fist smashed Jangbok's jaw.
Jar-shatter sound; Jangbok spun and flopped dynamically—true to form.
No time for idle thoughts. The black-bearded giant who'd one-shot him cracked his knuckles, bandit vibes radiating.
"You scoundrels. Green kids like you, rioting near the sovereign? They say young scholars are barbaric these days—true enough."
Go Bonghwan and I flinched. Palace guards? Exam enforcers?
But no badge, sword, or official robes.
Not answering? He took it as fear and blabbered,
"Lowly house for sure. Gyeonggi Governor's kin passes first. Read books but ignore elders and hierarchy? I'll teach manners—the ex-magistrate Lee Gwiser, who routed rebels in Musin Year!"
Musin Year? Rebel merit in Yi Injwa's Rebellion?
Twenties then means forties-plus now, but still burly. Joseon midlife crisis age, but individual variance.
Why bodyguard for Gyeonggi Governor Hong Bonghan here?
Go Bonghwan whispered,
"Many soldiers unrewarded despite service. Probably extra-merit but unemployed grunt. Heard Gobu magistrate got fired for graft fifteen years back—that him? Has to hustle muscle gigs to eat."
Yi Injwa crushed by force, so troops deserved rewards.
But Joseon—land of civil officials... fancy excuse. Truth: broke.
Too many for full audits and payouts. Merit badges for high brass only; foot soldiers forgotten.
Grunt veterans griped for 20 years; court still debates hiring them.
Flip side: unresolved two decades later.
Even a magistrate reduced to thug-for-hire? Joseon hierarchy merciless.
Name? Gwiser? I stepped forward.
"Gui... I mean, sir, calm down and hear me. Youngsters got carried away in exam rush, but we'd never fail to recognize a court pillar."
Told Eoji smash all, but Hong Bonghan's house different.
No need for long explanations. Crown Prince's father-in-law sums it up.
Hyegyeonggung Hong clan's patriarch. Dramas love it—Jeongjo's era, first power minister Hong Gukyeong his kin-grandnephew or so. Forgot details, but at least Chief Councillor.
Untouchable across factions. King's backing.
Hong Bonghan's stock soaring now.
Too obvious parachute to dominate old Noron heavies lacking gravitas. Even kid scholars like me know him inside out.
He rigged and passed this very exam like loaded Go-Stop.
Stuck as prince's secretary (5th rank) briefly, then straight to Gwangju Governor—2nd rank on entry.
Father a minister helps, but not enough. Court full of such heirs.
Answer: one ace daughter.
Makes my teeth grind—from zero to Chief Councillor.
Joseon meritocracy discriminates against nepotism?
Please. Only for easy marks like me.
21st or 18th century, real power trumps shaky merit. Hell, Hong Bonghan's pass redefines "ability."
So I bowed.
"No thought of rudeness to the exalted lady's kin. Please go first; we'll follow. Or join us—you saw we're helpful."
Seething inside. Crimson flames. Revolution's banner waving in my chest. In the people's name, eternal curse on filthy royalists.
Gwiser, oblivious, stroked his beard smugly.
"Even villains purified can serve the divine. Bowing to rites now, I get it. Then..."
Then, a blood-chilling roar.
"Argh! You... you did it!"
Eoji's rage-bellow at fallen Jangbok.
I blocked him charging like a death-wish steamroller. World went dark.
When did you two bond like that?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
1. The guy who offered petitions for a post was scholar Hong Cheonbo. Grandfather a prince consort—peak glory—but Joseon status: hard climb, quick fall. By then, just scraps.
Didn't outright beg; said "too poor to keep Taewon/Sukjong petitions, returning to court." Not really broke—hint for cash/post. Also, spotlight total minister heirs living rough. Many like him. Yeongjo knew, copied and returned them, gave post.
2. Lee Gwiser real; extra-merit post-Injwa true. Per Yeongjo's order for unemployed hires (implying most weren't), got Gobu magistrate. Fired for false reports/embezzlement.
No further records. Timeline: ~15 years later.
Chundangdae Avengers (2)