Dylan Kim and the Bronze Chest of Goguryeo

By Jantzen Lee

“…He countered using all his strength. A doo bun chirugi double punch, a yup chagi side kick to the stomach and to finish, a gullgi chagi hook kick to the head.”Dylan Kim is a black belt in Taekwondo. He trains hard. He fights smart. One day, a mysterious Korean girl pleads for Dylan’s help. Using sorcery, she sends him back to ancient Korea on a quest to find a missing bronze chest for the King of Goguryeo. There, Dylan encounters thieves, giants, avalanches, the mythical White Tiger and ruthless warriors skilled in ancient martial arts. After solving a riddle, he finds the bronze chest deep inside a royal tomb. But that’s when his problems really begin… Will Dylan’s skill and will to survive be enough to save him?"

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9789810759056

Book preview

1

KYORUGI

The fight was about to start.

Dylan Kim walked across the blue padded floor and eased his head into a blue foam helmet. He fastened the strap under his chin and then checked his other body armor was secure. Lastly, he placed a guard in his mouth and bit down gently, his teeth a snug fit inside the molded plastic.

He was ready.

The other Taekwondo black-belt students in the class remained seated against the mirrored wall, and Dylan felt their eyes following him across the dojang. They were probably wondering how a thirteen-year old was going to survive the first round against a much bigger and stronger fifteen-year-old opponent.

But Dylan had seen the teenager fight before and had made a mental note of his fighting style and favorite moves. He knew he would be aggressive and would use his height and reach advantage with ahp chagi front kicks and dwi chagi back kicks.

Dylan strategized. Something his father pressed upon him to do before every full-contact, free-sparring kyorugi fight. What are their strengths? What are their weaknesses? How can you exploit them? Think Dylan, think! Fight smart!

The Korean instructor stepped forward and said, Cha ryuht!

Dylan and the teenager stood to attention and slapped their hands to their sides. Dylan glanced down at the name sewn on his opponent’s dobok under the Taekwondo badge. It said ‘Isaac’.

Kyung nae! said the instructor.

Dylan and Isaac bowed to each other. A sign of respect for one’s opponent.

"Choon bi!" the instructor continued. Get into your fighting stances.

This was it. Dylan felt his heart beating faster and his muscles tensing with the adrenalin release. His whole body started trembling. He pushed a fringe of dark brown hair away from his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, knowing the ‘fight or flight’ response would help his reflexes and strength once the fight started.

Seijak! shouted the instructor, raising his hand to start the bout.

Isaac immediately jumped forward and launched a front kick to Dylan’s stomach.

Dylan had expected it. He coolly stepped aside out of harm’s way. Evade and stay out of reach. The kick missed him by an inch and gave him the chance to quickly counter with a dolrya chagi rear-leg roundhouse kick. The kick struck Isaac in the gut, making a satisfying thwack against his red body armor.

The point scored, Dylan returned to his fighting stance. He sucked in another deep breath and faced his opponent, all his senses now at fever pitch.

Isaac’s eyes narrowed for a second. Then he leapt forward again and attacked with ferocity, feinting a rear-leg roundhouse kick to Dylan’s chest to set up a thundering dwi chagi back-kick aimed at Dylan’s stomach.

But this was Isaac’s favorite move and Dylan was ready for it.

Dylan jumped back and blocked the first kick with an ahrae mahki, a low hand block. He took another step back to change his own fighting stance, just as the back-kick drove towards his stomach. Instead, the kick glanced off his arm and while Isaac was off balance Dylan countered with a gullgi chagi hook kick to the head. It smacked against Isaac’s red helmet and knocked him sideways to the ground.

On a high, Dylan strode to the centre of the dojang. He gulped deep mouthfuls of air and waited for Isaac to pick himself up.

Isaac got back to his feet and straightened his dobok. His face was flushed with anger. Or embarrassment. Or maybe both. He moved back slowly to the centre ring and stepped purposefully into his fighting stance, eyes blazing.

The instructor raised his hand again. Shouted, Seijak!

This time Isaac held back. No more rushing in. He’d learned his lesson. Instead, Dylan and his opponent bounced on the balls of their feet, circling each other, feinting kicks and punches. Trying to lure each other into an attack which could be countered.

Think Dylan, think! Fight smart!

Dylan tried a different tactic. He lifted his fists until they were level with his forehead, raising his guard and exposing his torso.

Isaac’s eyes immediately flicked down, taking the bait, and he threw out a hard yup chagi side-kick, aiming for Dylan’s exposed liver.

Dylan dropped the guard and blocked the kick while side-stepping, leaving Isaac open and vulnerable.

Close in quickly with blocks and swift counter strikes.

Dylan drove three, lightning-fast roundhouse kicks into Isaac’s solar plexus. They rang out like gunshots around the dojang.

BAM…BAM…BAM.

Dylan jumped back and readied for retaliation, but Isaac crumpled and fell to his hands and knees, badly winded.

"OK, Gomahn," said the instructor, ending the fight.

Dylan waited in place for Isaac to recover and stand up, then they bowed to each other as was custom at the end of a fight. The instructor gave Dylan a nod as he returned to the group sitting along the mirror, and the class fell silent as the instructor started demonstrating a two-step sparring technique.

Twenty minutes later the class finished and the students bowed to the instructor as they filed out of the dojang. Dylan went into the boys’ locker room to change out of his dobok and he noticed Isaac had followed him.

The teenager blew out his cheeks. Man, you kick like a mule.

Dylan smiled and pulled on his jeans. Like my father.

Isaac raised his eyebrows. He does Taekwondo too?

Dylan nodded. Seventh degree.

Whoa! That’s way cool.

Dylan slipped on his black T-shirt and closed the locker door. He swung his bag over his shoulder, said goodbye to Isaac and left the building, making his way to his bus stop.

2

SHIN

A light rain had started to fall by the time Dylan reached the bus shelter.

He took a seat on the cold metal bench and put his backpack on his lap. An elderly Chinese woman at the other end of the bench stared at him for a moment then looked away. He opened his bag and started rummaging through it, looking for his iPod.

You’re Dylan Kim? said a voice.

Dylan looked up as a girl sat down beside him. She was slim, with long black hair that fell past her shoulders. She had high cheekbones and small facial features and dark, almond eyes set against pale, almost translucent skin. He guessed her age at sixteen or seventeen.

Yes, he replied. He didn’t recognize her. Have we met?

The girl shook her head. I’ve seen you around.

Oh. Dylan continued to stare at her. OK.

The girl met his eyes serenely. My name is Shinhae. Shin for short.

You’re Korean? Dylan asked.

Yes, like you.

Dylan gave a small smile. I’m half Korean. My mother’s British.

Shin lowered her eyes. Is that your school bag?

Dylan looked at his backpack and nodded.

Do you study history at school?

Some. Not that much.

Do you know about Goguryeo? The three kingdoms?

Sure, Dylan replied. My father read me stories about them.

Shin smiled. About the battles?

They were always fighting. Goguryeo versus Shilla. Shilla versus Baekje. Baekje versus Goguryeo.

Do you know about King Gogugwon?

Dylan shook his head.

He was killed when the Baekje army stormed his castle.

Dylan looked up as a bus approached the stop, but it wasn’t his. They both watched as the old Chinese lady stood up and shuffled to the doors to board. The driver waited until she’d found a seat before he pulled the bus away with a hydraulic hiss.

Shin turned her attention back to Dylan. "Do you know what a mudang is?"

Dylan looked blank.

It’s a shaman. A sorcerer, Shin explained.

OK.

"My father was a mudang."

Dylan tried not to smile.

In King Gogugwon’s castle, Shin continued.

Dylan chuckled. Sure.

It’s true, Shin said flatly.

That’s funny, Dylan said. He stood up.

Shin stood up with him. Please, Dylan. I need your help.

Dylan noticed they were about the same height. Help to do what?

Your father has an amulet. Ask him about it.

Huh?

Another bus was approaching the bus stop. This time it was Dylan’s bus.

I have to go, Dylan said. It was nice meeting you.

Shin touched his arm. Please, you have to help me!

Dylan hunched his shoulders against the rain and stepped to the curb as the bus pulled up and opened its doors.

Meet me at the Thian Hock Keng temple tomorrow morning at 8 o’ clock, at the Ma Zu altar! Shin shouted as Dylan boarded the bus.

The doors closed and Dylan found a seat. He looked out of the window and he could see now that Shin was wearing a hanbok of pure white cotton, the traditional dress of Korea dating back thousands of years. They stared at each other through the glass until the bus pulled away into the traffic. As it did, Shin silently mouthed the same words again.

Please, help me!

3

THE AMULET

It was five bus stops to Dylan’s home.

Home was a rented condominium where Dylan had lived with his parents for the past three years. They had moved to Singapore from South Korea following his father’s promotion. It had been a difficult transition for all of them. His father had spent more time away on business, his mother missed her husband and friends, and he had hated school.

Dylan stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the eighth floor. He thought about Shin until the doors opened with a loud ping. He took out his house key, opened the front door and closed it behind him. The hallway smelled of cooking.

That you, Dylan? called his mother from the kitchen.

Yeah, mum, Dylan answered. He kicked off his shoes and put them in the shoe cupboard then walked to the kitchen. Hi, he said, putting his bag on the dining table and sliding himself onto one of the chairs.

Dylan’s mum was at the stove stirring a large pot. Her dark-brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and she was wearing her spectacles, the ones Dylan joked made her look like a librarian. She was a petite woman, but athletic. She turned her head and smiled. You OK?

Hmm.

She went back to stirring the pot. How was school?

Good.

Taekwondo?

Yeah, good.

She turned her head again. Sure? You look exhausted.

I’m OK mum.

Dylan pulled a math text book out of his bag and opened it to a page on fractions.

I worry about you. You’re down there training six times a week. Then there’s all the homework you have to do on top.

It’s OK mum, really.

She stopped stirring the pot and leaned against the countertop, facing the table. I know your father pushes you a lot. But you don’t have to do so much training if you don’t want to, OK?

Dylan looked up from the book. It means I won’t get bullied ever again, mum.

She blew out her cheeks. I know that, I’ve watched you and your father training. You kick butt nowadays!

Dylan’s eyes flicked to a blown-up photograph hanging on the wall next to the table. It was an old black-and-white photograph of his father wearing a dobok and staring stony-faced into the camera lens. Below the photo the caption read in bold: J.D. Kim, 7th Dan Blackbelt & Korea National Champion: 1969.

He pushes you because he cares about you and loves you, you know?

I know, mum.

And I love you too!

Dylan grinned. I know, mum. I love you too.

His mother returned to stirring the pot. You better get your homework done before dinner.