MTLNOVEL Ch. 6
Chapter 6: Evolution
“Do you see the light over there? Go on your own.”
Boknyeo asked.
“…Alone? My leg is sprained.”
“But your eyes are fine. Head toward the light.”
Boknyeo seemed to expect me to escort her, but unfortunately that was impossible.
Wild men from Tiger Village surely awaited over there.
Today, I had climbed the mountain entirely on the down-low.
If rumors like ‘Kim Insam came down that day from the mountain’ spread, it would do me no good at all.
“Don’t say you saw me.”
“Ah….”
“I’m not telling you to forget me. I come from Bear Village. Remember that, and repay the favor later. I also know your name. Boknyeo. I’ll remember it.”
Boknyeo hesitated, then spoke cautiously.
“Thank you.”
“What’s there to thank. I’m the one who’s grateful. Without you, I might have been caught too. So please, don’t climb the mountain recklessly.”
“Yes….”
With those words, I left.
Watching me go, Boknyeo trembled all over.
Then with a bizarre voice she burst into sobs—
flphhaang!—
and sprinted toward the light.
Some time later.
News arrived that a tiger had been captured.
“Killed it!”
“When the Grand King thrust out his fist with ghostlike force, the tiger recognized that dignity, bowed deeply three times, then threw itself off the cliff!”
Watching this absurd boast reminded me anew that the place I was in was indeed Pyongyang.
It made me worry—what if a lump suddenly sprouted on the back of King Pyeongwon Go Yangseong’s neck?
‘Still, it is true that the hunt ended surprisingly quickly.’
Knocking the tiger back with a fist and sending it to its death was probably exaggerated… yet considering Goguryeo’s royal line included distinguished warrior-kings from Jumowang to Gogŏnmu, the martial prowess itself seemed reasonably formidable.
“Long live the Grand King!”
“Long live Goguryeo!”
Upon hearing the news, people from neighboring Tiger Village cheered more than anyone.
They were glad the tiger was caught—and especially glad that it had been done so swiftly.
Now, if the Grand King and nobles would just return gracefully to the capital, the Tiger Village people could resume their former lives—but…
Their hopes were promptly shattered.
It was because of King Pyeongwon Go Yangseong’s declaration.
“They say there’s a wolf near neighboring Bear Village. Like the tiger, the wolf harms the people, so now that we’re at it, we must catch that too.”
Instead of returning, Koyangseong proclaimed a wolf hunt.
The declaration was quite surprising—while “Tiger Slayer” is a celebrated achievement, “Wolf Slayer” did not bring the same acclaim.
Even the nobles were nonchalant, remarking, “Well, let the villagers handle the wolf themselves?” but that did not sway Koyangseong.
“I will not return until all the wolves are killed.”
Faced with the Grand King’s stubborn resolve, the nobles grudgingly backed down.
They didn’t want to squabble with the Grand King over petty matters when larger issues loomed.
Soon after the tiger hunt came the wolf hunt.
The mountain folk of neighboring Tiger Village must have thought at first, “Wolves are in Bear Village, so Bear Village folks can deal with them—let you see what happens to you!”
“You run!”
“See you in ten days!”
But the mountain folk in our village had already sensed something off and vanished from their homes long ago.
Ultimately, the Tiger Village men ended up searching the mountains of our village, which they barely knew.
The mood of the Tiger Village mountain folk was utterly dogshit.
But if you yourself become a dog, doggish behavior isn’t so bad, really.
So they descended into vile dog‑like deeds.
“Insam’s hidden it here.”
“Kyaaaa! So many of them!”
“But why aren’t there any ginseng berries?”
“What kind of big deal is that?”
These ruthless Tiger Village bastards feigned hunting our wolves, while quietly grabbing all the ginseng hidden by our village’s mountain miners.
Later, when the mountain miners faced the now-empty mountains, their faces flushed red in an instant.
“You assholes! Give back my ginseng!”
“Do you have proof we took it?”
“I don’t know anything about ginseng. Did you write your name on it?”
Hearing that, I felt a pang of regret.
‘I should’ve taken the ginseng itself rather than the berries….’
It wouldn’t have been noticed anyway.
Because of the Tiger Village fiends’ ruthless ginseng heist, feelings between Bear Village and Tiger Village sank to worst ever.
But being civilized people who knew sportsmanship, we didn’t resolve it by battle.
Sometimes in sports manga you see enemies suddenly propose, “Let’s settle this with basketball!”
Something similar occurred between the two villages.
“Catch this, you bastard!”
“Die! Die! Die!”
Stones flew from one side to the other.
“We’ll beat you with clubs!”
“Kill them all!”
Clubs were swung recklessly.
Again—I’ll say it—when 21st‑century Chinese criticize Koreans as gaolipangzi, they’re referring to club‑wielding Goguryeo people.
In other words, clubs and Goguryeo people are one and the same.
Men and women, young and old, wielded clubs and pummeled each other, hurling stones without mercy.
It was Pyongyang’s fine custom of stone‑war (石戰).
Is it a drunken brawl?
Absolutely not.
Stone‑war is a sporting activity rooted in the Goguryeo spirit of martial exaltation.
Those who honed stone‑war skills in daily life showcased their prowess in times of war—it was more like voluntary reserve training.
And that’s not all.
“You can’t crush the stones before throwing!”
“Don’t strike from behind! You’ll kill them!”
Just as the difference between martial arts and bare‑knuckle fighting lies in referees, the difference between stone‑war and village melee is also whether there is a referee.
Today’s referee was none other than a passing monk, so the fight carried religious authority as well.
And I too staked my life in that fight. I had a sworn enemy there.
‘Soyong, that bastard….’
I’m the son of a man from Tiger Village—Soyong—who called me a fallen noble every day and went on about it.
He’s a Tiger Village native with ambitions, attending the Scholarly Academy.
As soon as he heard the news that the Grand King and nobles would enter his hometown, he rushed there hoping to make an impression on the local elite and even ended up taking part in the stone‑war.
“Take this!”
“Gyahak!”
“Soyong, good job! Kill all those Bear Village bastards!”
Soyong took part in the stone‑war.
As a prominent free villager (호민) of Tiger Village, practicing archery and swordsmanship daily at the Scholarly Academy, it was only natural.
On today’s battlefield, he was truly Tiger Village’s ace.
But I have knowledge of 21st‑century baseball.
I slipped one stone secretly under my sleeve and approached him by crawling.
“Die!”
Using the many hours I practiced with shurikens, I threw a high‑speed stone right at his face… no, a fast stone.
You say baseball has no such technique?
Well, haven’t you forgotten the wise words of a baseball player who claimed a dead ball is still a legit technique?
Crack!
“Kuheok!”
The stone flew true—striking Soyong square on the cheek and knocking out one of his front teeth.
He was startled and crawled away on all fours.
“W‑what the—!”
Even in that moment, he raised one arm and showed the spirit to throw another stone. Was he a dragoon in a past life? But morale had clearly swung to my side.
“We’ve slain the enemy commander!”
“Charge! Charge! Make those Tiger Village heads sound like the strings of a geomungo!”
“Run!”
After breaking the enemy’s vanguard, I charged into their ranks and wielded a club like Yeopo.
Crack!
After swinging three times, the handle of the jujube‑wood bat broke at the paddle—deliberately made slightly flimsy so bones wouldn’t break—and had to be replaced again and again.
“Is that thing supposed to break?”
“I’ve never seen it before…”
It was around the time I refilled my fourth club.
“Stop! Stop!”
Something noisy dangled on my arm.
I thought it might be another Tiger Village guy, but he had no hair. On closer inspection, it was the monk acting as referee.
“Stop! Stop fighting! Bear Village wins!”
Looking around, everyone near me had collapsed, groaning in pain.
It was the first time I’d ever swung a club at people, but indeed—I must be strong.
“Game over! Bear Village wins!”
With the monk-referee’s declaration, our village became the victor of the traditional, honorable inter‑village stone‑war competition.
Each village had seven injured. Of course, injuries here count from at least fractures. Anything less isn’t considered an injury in Goguryeo.
Barbaric?
Even into the 19th century, duels with pistols—where half the participants would die—were still common, yet in the 7th century stone‑war, only about 10% got hurt. How is that barbaric?
“Did you see?”
“I saw!”
Villagers gathered around me.
“Kim Insam! The one who throws fiery stones!”
“Kim Insam the fallen noble! The stone‑war master who declared that if he fell so would others!”
The nickname was a bit over the top.
Thanks to that stone‑war, I, once just a fallen noble, became a sudden star.
And that was that.
There was no spoils of war from the stone‑war, and nothing was resolved… but at least blood was shed, so mission accomplished.
Let’s just go with that.
After all, this is Goguryeo.
Moreover, once a drop of blood was spilled, the talk about the ginseng seeds I stole vanished entirely, didn’t it?
At this point… with the exception of Soyong losing a tooth, it could be called a happy ending for everyone.
A few days later.
As a result of King Pyeongwon Go Yangseong’s reckless actions, both the mountain’s tiger and wolf disappeared without a trace.
And moreover, Koyangseong was historically a benevolent and wise monarch.
[Since the people of Tiger Village greatly cooperated in this matter, I will reward them.]
After exterminating the tiger and the wolf, Koyangseong awarded them with provisions.
If you include what soldiers from Pyongyang demanded—food, liquor—it was effectively break-even, but hey, break‑even isn’t a minus, right?
If there’s common ground between 21st‑century people and 6th‑century Goguryeo folk politically, it’s that a politician is considered decent so long as they don’t go into the negative.
Meanwhile, what bloomed from that stone‑war fight wasn’t merely the death‑blossom in battle. Truly, a different flower needed planting.
‘The wild ginseng flower.’
I planted the ginseng berries unofficially donated to our village people.
‘If you cultivate wild ginseng in a field that becomes ginseng proper.’
I’m the son of Punggi, a ginseng expert, whose first liquor wasn’t soju but ginseng wine… anyway, I know all about ginseng cultivation.
‘Roofing method probably won’t suffice?’
In the 21st century, ginseng cultivation is often done via “broadcast sowing,” throwing many seeds willy‑nilly.
But that’s in modern Korea, where a single bag of seeds costs around 300,000 won.
Right now, with only four hundred ginseng seeds total, that method won’t do. Broadcast sowing averages a germination rate of about 3%.
‘Better to do seedling method.’
Like rice planting—germinate seeds in advance and care for them one by one.
It’s too laborious and inefficient for commercial ginseng farmers, used mostly by hobby gardeners… but with few seeds, this method is preferable.
The first step is to sprout the radicle—called gaegap.
Do you know how long it takes for wild ginseng in nature to sprout?
A month? Two months?
Wrong.
If left to nature, germination alone takes almost two years.
But that’s only the “natural” way.
In the 21st century, science brought a forced awakening method for ginseng seeds.
‘At first, water them twice a day… then gradually reduce watering until finally watering only once every three days.’
In this way, the seeds initially think, “Hmm, should I emerge? Not yet?” as they sense the moisture.
When watering reduces, they panic: “Oh shit, water’s dropping! I’m screwed! I need to come out now!”—and they slowly creep up.
This plant psychology might sound absurd—like “water knows the answer” or “if you curse at onions they die from stress.”
Yeah, in my unit the battalion commander once said “onions prevent COVID,” and brought onions into the barracks.
But this plant stress method actually works.
Have you heard of the “drip irrigation method” used in the Middle East?
Originally, in the Middle Eastern region, people gave water to plants indiscriminately using sprinklers.
As a result, plants thought, “Wow, water comes so often. Why bother growing?” and grew carelessly.
But when water was given drop by drop, teasingly, they reacted, “If I don’t grow immediately, I’m dead!” and grew vigorously, they say.
Even plants, if spoiled too much, grow lazily—and only become desperate when they sense a threat to survival. In technical terms, it’s explained as inducing reproduction through growth stress.
Anyway, using this method can shorten the wild ginseng sprouting period, which normally takes two years, to about three months. The ideal time for this is between July and October.
“Now is the time.”
It wasn’t merely coincidence or luck—wild ginseng also produces seeds and spreads during this period naturally. That enabled me to gather seeds.
I mixed sand, red soil, and clay according to the golden ratio researched by agricultural scientists of the 21st century, creating a fine sandy loam (misato), and placed ginseng seeds into it.
Tapping the misato gently, I said:
“This is 21st‑century soil. When I return, let’s continue the next step.”
With this done, for now all that remained was to water it properly.
Meanwhile, I didn’t forget about Grand King mushrooms either.
“On the orchard road outside Pyongyang, the Grand King mushroom blossoms are in full bloom…”
The Grand King mushroom—that is, shiitake mushroom spawn—grew well and blossomed like a mushroom flower.
Of course, it’s not an actual “flower”—the young spawn resembled a tiny bloom, hence the name.
I planned to preserve it carefully and next March bore holes into logs to sow it.
My “status restoration plan,” speeding toward wealth, was proceeding smoothly.
Autumn had quietly arrived.
The heaven is high and horses grow fat—such is the season of abundance.
“Now that there are no beasts, it’s time to head back up the mountain.”
Munso, who headed straight to my house, pressed me. He must have become soft in body since I haven’t gone to the mountain lately.
But unfortunately…
“I won’t climb the mountain anymore.”
More precisely, I can’t.
While I’ve mostly finished tasks related to plant cultivation… farming or cultivation isn’t done by planting alone.
Chirp chirp!
Tweet tweet!
Seeing sparrows and field mice pecking around the precious ginseng seeds I planted made me rue that I’m not Mao Zedong.
If I were Mao Zedong, a flick of the finger could have wiped out all those birds and rats, right?
But since I’m not Mao, to prevent the ginseng from becoming sparrow food, I’d have to sit here in front of it all day.
That was why I couldn’t climb the mountain.
“Hmm, so you’re not going up, right?”
Munso nodded calmly at my refusal.
He was wise enough to sense my resolve.
“Miss! But the Young Master…”
“Gulp.”
The veteran mountain miner, Munso, was wiser than I thought.
Instead of arguing with me further, he went to nag my mother.
After all, a terminal sergeant doesn’t punish a private who errs—he simply nags the corporal. (metaphorically)
“Explain yourself.”
At my mother’s question, I silently raised a finger.
It wasn’t to do something unfilial like telling her not to raise her voice.
“Just one year—please trust me for one year.”
Ginseng takes at least six years to mature, but mushrooms can grow in one year.
“If nothing works after one year, I’ll climb the mountain again.”
“So you plan to just look at that jar for a whole year?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I plan to do.”
“You said you'd be a mountain miner instead of going to the academy, so why quit so quickly? It’s not about the work, but about your character.”
Mother tried to persuade me in many ways, but ultimately, only historically supreme figures like King Yeongjo or Gyeon Hwon could win against children.
“Sigh… All right. You must have your reasons. Do as you wish.”
My mother’s expression looked conflicted—like seeing a son who once earned money working get home, designing a business plan, and secluding himself in his room.
‘This is the classic unfilial son stereotype.’
But there’s nothing to worry about.
Although now I’m the “fire type” filial son, soon with mushroom powder and ginseng seeds in hand, I’ll become a “river‑born dragon” and transform into a “dragon type” filial son.
Just one year.
One year is all it takes.
Author’s Note.
While the term 석전 (stone‑war) first appeared in the Goryeo period, the History of the Sui records a Goguryeo custom of tossing stones across a river.
That original form already existed in Goguryeo.
Since then, stone‑war became wildly popular, and by the Joseon era there were both amateur and professional stone‑war competitions. Professional matches were even held before Ming Dynasty envoys.
In professional stone‑war, there were distinct “tank” fighters holding shields to block stones and “dealers” throwing them. Also, it wasn’t always simple stone‑throwing; many used slings—the kind David used to kill Goliath.
Prince I Bang-won attended a stone‑war even while ill, and King Sejong banned amateur stone‑war but allowed professional matches. Those pros sometimes became elite soldiers in the Imjin War.
Afterward, it was abolished for danger → so fun? revived! → dangerous again → abolished, repeating a few times.
Foreigners in late Joseon saw it and commented:
“It looked fun so I joined, but if I killed someone by mistake I expected revenge—but even the family didn’t say anything.”
“It’s like American football—a game where people die for fun. But maybe fewer deaths than in football?”
…Such records remain. During Japanese colonial rule, Ito Hirobumi was injured by a stone‑war contestant’s thrown rock. Perhaps due to that, stone‑war disappeared after Japanese rule ended.