Softness Overcomes Hardness
Softness overcomes hardness.
The gentle can subdue the strong.
William’s eyes swept over Taeheo Jinin several times. The old man stood in a light, almost casual stance, as though he were merely stretching.
Not a single opening. He looks relaxed, yet there’s no gap at all.
A spar against an elder who had reached an unfathomably high realm. There was no chance of victory. Yet this was only a lesson, not a fight to the death. William cooled his mind with the chill wind sweeping across Tianzhu Peak and slowly closed the distance.
A martial artist simply walking forward. It was a rare sight in the jianghu. Most would have used footwork even for three steps, so this unhurried approach felt strangely out of place. To Taeheo Jinin, however, it was intriguing.
“You do not use footwork?”
“Unfortunately, I never learned any that suits Taiji Fist.”
“Interesting.”
The gap between them steadily shrank. Even for Taeheo Jinin, such a slow beginning was novel, and a spark of interest lit his eyes.
Let us see how much he has truly learned.
At last the distance closed. When only three steps remained, William sensed it.
I’ve entered Taeheo Jinin’s range.
Now a single reach would touch. Recalling a Taiji Fist posture, William extended his hand at a measured pace—neither slow nor fast. His arm moved like a leisurely dance.
Taeheo Jinin caught William’s wrist with one hand, drawing it inward as if guiding the attack, while his other hand pressed firmly down on William’s shoulder. A clean, effortless control.
William spoke with genuine admiration.
“I didn’t even realize I had been countered.”
“All things possess a flow. We call it the natural order. Daoists strive to live in accordance with it, yet in this harsh world such a life is never easy.”
“You are right.”
William’s hand reached again for Taeheo Jinin’s wrist. Many Taiji postures focused on seizing the arm, so the attempt was natural. Once more, a light flick of the elder’s hand deflected the move.
Pull and be pushed away. Push and be pulled in. Taeheo Jinin’s movements were neither swift nor flashy, yet William only realized his attacks had been neutralized long after the fact.
I cannot even measure the gulf between our realms.
Just as a frog in a well cannot imagine the whale in the sea, William could not truly follow Taeheo Jinin’s motions. They appeared so natural that it seemed they had always been that way.
“The natural order flows toward harmony, for harmony is the sum of all order. You must keep this in mind.”
The sum of all order…
Not a single word was wasted, yet none of them were easy to grasp. William turned each phrase over in his mind and reached out once more, aiming for Taeheo Jinin’s elbow in an attempt to lock and throw him according to Taiji principles. Again, a casual gesture sent William’s arm inward and broke his posture.
“I just pulled your hand and ruined your stance. What do you make of that?”
“I felt the truth of ‘excess is as bad as deficiency.’”
“Why do you think so?”
“With one light motion you shattered the harmony of my movement. In the end, my technique became excessive.”
A clever boy. If he were a little younger, I would have enjoyed teaching him.
Though the man’s mind was beginning to harden with age, he absorbed instruction so readily that a spark of greed stirred in Taeheo Jinin’s heart. He was a martial artist after all; the desire for a disciple was only natural.
“Correct. Once harmony is broken, no technique can display its true power. Remember this well. Your realm is more precarious than you realize.”
Even as they spoke, their hands continued to move like the strings of a gayageum—pulling, pushing, pushing, pulling. It resembled child’s play more than serious sparring, yet both men regarded each other with grave eyes and never ceased.
“You say it is precarious, yet I have no choice but to keep moving forward.”
By interfering in matters that should have resolved themselves, he had already twisted fate. For the sake of a happier future, he had to press on. If he did not, countless people would drown in despair.
“Then you must restore harmony. Your balance is more shattered than you think. To cross the next wall, you must first mend what has been broken.”
“How do I do that?”
“Reduce your killing intent.”
“How should I reduce it?”
The unexpected advice made William ask carefully. Taeheo Jinin answered at once.
“That is not something I can solve with words. I can only tell you not to treat the taking of life as a trivial matter.”
“I do not take killing lightly.”
“Do you truly believe that?”
“…”
William closed his eyes. To question oneself was no different from gazing inward. Taeheo Jinin quietly stepped back, hands clasped behind him, and watched. The white tiger that had appeared behind the elder lay down at ease, also observing William.
Have I really become numb to killing?
From the moment he possessed this body, there had been relentless training, followed by sudden battles on the battlefield. He had never once looked back. Now, when he turned his head, a mountain of corpses rose before him.
The people I killed.
How many had he slain just to survive? And how many more would he have to kill to keep surviving?
Have I grown indifferent to murder?
The realization came only when he finally looked behind him. William tore his gaze from the corpses and regarded the knight he had once been.
A figure in chainmail astride a warhorse, thundering across the field. Swinging a lance to fling impaled foes aside like dust, then driving the weapon through the next enemy without pause. That had been his daily routine on the battlefield.
I cannot even count how many I killed.
When had he last felt revulsion at taking a life? A year ago? Half a year? When had his first kill even been?
The day he first stepped onto the battlefield as an ordinary footsoldier.
He began to recall that memory in fragments. Shouts from every direction. The clash of weapons. The final screams of the dying. Amid the chaos, he—an ordinary, terrified soldier—had driven his spear into the heart of an equally frightened enemy soldier.
What did I feel then?
Disgust? Sorrow? Or…
[What troubles you so?]
Commander?
The voice was growing clearer. William looked up to see the commander with his ever-present pipe. Thick gray smoke curled from the bowl—the sight he had witnessed most often since becoming the man’s disciple.
I’ve only now realized that I had grown numb to killing.
[Killing is our trade. When you take enough lives, people stop seeming like people. Many knights agonize over the gap between ideals and reality, then choose reality. William, remember the comrades who met their end.]
James. William’s fellow recruit.
How had he died?
[That boy could not endure the war and eventually took his own life. Gabriel went mad the day he realized the boy he killed was the same age as his younger brother. Patrick was so terrified that he abandoned his comrades and fled. Even knights forged by endless training are only fragile humans on the battlefield. But you are different.]
A born warrior. That was what the Saracen general who captured him had called him. William recalled the words anew.
I don’t understand.
[You must. It is a knight’s duty. Only then will you grasp the weight of the creed we bear upon our backs.]
By creed, do you mean chivalry?
The code he had recited until his ears ached. The commander nodded.
[Yes. Chivalry. Why do you think we recite it every morning?]
Because we are knights.
[No.]
The commander rejected the answer firmly.
Then why do we recite it?
If knights did not recite the code simply because they were knights, then why did they?
[So that we never forget we are human. A knight charges into hell itself. The words exist to remind us not to be devoured by that hell and become demons, but to stand tall as men.]
Never forget you are human.
Stand tall… as a human.
William turned the words over and over.
I understand what it means.
[Above all else that is to be guarded, guard your heart, for from it flows the wellspring of life.]
The commander’s voice was fading. William slowly opened his eyes.