The Mad Old Man (1)
Thud, thud.
"Hmm. You're handling the mountain path better than I expected."
The mad old man, who had Damuk Hun slung over his shoulder, glanced back at Yeon as he spoke.
"……."
Though a sliver of unease lingered in Yeon's heart, she sensed no malice from the old man and thus held her silence. Had he harbored any ill intent, neither she nor Damuk Hun would have kept their heads after that earlier encounter—no need for all this hassle.
Crunch.
As the old man pushed through the final thicket, a wide clearing suddenly opened up. Yeon suspected this man had lived in these mountains for a long time.
"Heave-ho."
He didn't look winded in the slightest, but with exaggerated flair, he set Damuk Hun down beside him and patted his back for effect.
"Aigoo, that was tough. So tough. Martial clan kids must eat well—they're heavy, alright. Little one, what's your name?"
"Yeon, sir," she replied, bowing politely.
The old man let out a hearty laugh, as if caught off guard.
"Such fine manners. And not a hint of fear. Am I not scary?"
"No, you're not."
"Hmm. Even if I lopped off this fool's head right now? Still not scary?"
"…You won't."
"Really? Hearing that makes me want to prove you wrong."
With those words, a blue glow shimmered in the old man's hand. The moment Yeon beheld that beautiful aura, she realized it was gang-gi—the martial energy warriors sometimes spoke of—but she gave no sign of it.
"Whoa."
She simply reacted like any girl her age might.
"……."
"It's so pretty. What is it?"
Gripping her hands tightly, Yeon gazed at the gang-gi with wide, curious eyes. The old man could only chuckle awkwardly at the sight, just as she'd intended. What's a grown man like me doing in front of a child? he thought.
He dismissed the gang-gi as if it had never been there and beckoned Yeon gently.
"Come here, child."
"Yes, Grandfather."
The old man flinched at that.
"Grandfather?"
"Yes… Is that uncomfortable? I wasn't sure what to call you."
"Ahem. No, call me whatever feels right."
Though her bold response left him momentarily flustered, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. Who could resist a warm smile when such a small, pale child with round eyes looked up and called them Grandfather? The older one gets, the more one craves a child's innocent charm.
Yeon, carefully gauging the old man's mood, slipped between him and Damuk Hun and sat down. If he took a sudden whim to strike, she'd throw herself in the way at least once.
Unaware or uncaring of her resolve, the old man—now fully relaxed—spoke in a gentle tone.
"It's hard for a young one like you to understand, but will you hear this old man's tale?"
"Yes."
"I've devoted my entire life to martial arts. From an age I can scarcely remember, I honed my skills until I reached a profound realm. But in the end, I hit a wall."
The story had come out of nowhere, but Yeon listened quietly.
"……."
"Everyone around me praised my talent, so I truly believed I'd go all the way. Heh."
"It's not over yet."
At Yeon's sudden interjection, the old man widened his eyes, then burst into laughter, ruffling her hair wildly.
"Right! Exactly. It's not over. That's why I sought other paths to shatter my final martial wall. And I found an answer."
"What was it?"
"Go. Do you know it? The game with white and black stones."
As if she wouldn't.
"…I know it."
Yeon tilted her head at the abrupt shift from martial walls to Go, but she focused even more intently on his words.
"Among jeong (essence), gi (energy), and shin (spirit), I had mastered jeong and gi with ease. But shin resides in the realm of cheon-tong—communion with the heavens. Martial arts, which forcibly gathers inner power and disrupts nature's flow, make it exceedingly difficult to attain."
"……."
"As they say, manryu-gwijong—all streams return to the source. I thought that by seeking the pinnacle outside martial arts, I could grasp shin. That's how I discovered Go."
Now ignoring whether Yeon followed or not, the old man simply poured out his heart to anyone who would listen.
"Go is called the immortals' pastime, its patterns and mysteries encompassing the myriad phenomena of the universe."
Yeon nodded vigorously in agreement.
"Exactly."
"…? Anyway, with that conviction, I left my sect and spent twenty years cultivating both Go and martial arts. I can confidently say I reached the pinnacle of jeong and gi in martial prowess, but shin eluded me entirely. Go's insights aided my martial path, yet fell short of true shin."
"I see."
"Do you know what I did next?"
"Not really."
"I heard of one who had opened their upper dantian through Go and attained the realm of shin before me. I sought them out with great difficulty and played a game. What do you think happened?"
"You lost."
The old man chuckled at Yeon's calm admission of his defeat.
"Indeed. A crushing defeat. And from that person, I heard both hope and despair at once. Do you know what it was?"
Yeon pondered briefly before replying.
"…'Your path is not wrong, but you are still lacking.' Something like that."
"Puhahaha!"
The old man threw his head back, laughing so hard that his inner energy resonated, echoing through the clearing. Tears streamed down his face as he wiped them away, nodding.
"Exactly. That one had stepped into the realm of shin I could only dream of, proving my path correct—while declaring my stagnant Go could never reach it."
"And then?"
"Enraged, I attacked them—and naturally lost in martial combat too. After twenty years away, I returned homeward, but my pathetic state shamed me too much to rejoin the family. So I've wandered these mountains. Heh. What do you think of this old man's sorry plight?"
Instead of answering, Yeon asked what had been nagging at her. Among warriors, the finest Go player—who might she one day face across the board?
"Who was it? The warrior who beat you, Grandfather?"
"Chuhon Singae of the Beggar Clan."
"…Grandfather, you're Chuhon Singae of the Beggar Clan?"
"Spot on."
"But the warrior you played Go with was also Chuhon Singae of the Beggar Clan?"
"That too."
Perplexed by the riddle, Yeon furrowed her brow in thought. One might dismiss it as mad ravings, but his earnest gaze belied that. She also sensed he sought a particular response from her.
As silence stretched, the old man prompted her.
"Child, clever child. Do you know who I am? What I'm saying?"
A memory flashed through Yeon's mind then—a scene from the past. When she'd first met Damuk Jeong, his words resurfaced.
—Go's no fun without a wager. What do you say? Shall we bet?
Yeon's lips parted slowly.
"You're imitating the Beggar Clan's Chuhon Singae as punishment for losing a wager to him, aren't you?"
"…What makes you think so?"
"Then it makes sense that you dueled Chuhon Singae, yet claim to be him now. Besides, I hear Beggar Clan members don't wear swords—so you're mimicking their leader."
"Kekekeke. Is that it? Then what do you suppose this old man's true identity is?"
This answer came easily.
"A former master of the Cheongan Namgung Family, aren't you?"
The laughter faded from the old man's face. His tone sobered as he asked slowly,
"Why do you think that?"
A martial upbringing from birth. Skill enough to challenge the Beggar Clan's leader. Wearing a sword. Debating a return to his clan home here in Anhwi Province.
There was much to explain, but Yeon kept it brief.
"In all Anhwi, who else but the Cheongan Namgung Family could produce an elder like you?"
"……."
The old man stared blankly at her. Yeon rose, offering a respectful po-gwon.
"Yeon, under the care of the Damuk Family, at your service. I greet a senior of the Namgung."
"Ha… hahaha."
After a moment of indescribable expression, he stood, shedding his ragged cloak. Beneath gleamed the pristine white uniform of the Namgung.
Returning the po-gwon formally, he said,
"Meeting such a brilliant junior is a senior's joy as well. I am Namgung Gijin."
Yeon bowed her head. Namgung Gijin nodded.
"Damuk Family, was it? Yes, such a clan exists. They've raised you well. You'll become a fine warrior."
"…That's."
Sensing his misconception, Yeon moved to clarify—but he continued first.
"You play Go, don't you?"
"……."
"Your eyes lit up when I spoke of the finest Go player among warriors. You asked who it was."
"……."
"And when I asked if you knew Go, your face said, Why ask something so obvious? Heh."
"…I'm sorry."
"No need. But won't you play a game with this old man? If you do, I'll prepare a fine gift for your visit to the Namgung later. What say you?"
The words "play a game of Go" never failed to thrill Yeon. The game itself was gift enough; no more was needed.
"Ah… No need for a gift. I love Go too. But we have no board or stones here. Shall we head down?"
"No need."
With that, a sword whispered from Namgung Gijin's waist. Yeon hadn't even seen it drawn. As puzzlement flickered—what now?—a boulder the size of a man's torso rose into the air of its own accord.
Rumble…!
Her mouth fell open like any child's at this first sight of heogong-seopmul, the advanced technique of seizing from afar.
The boulder hovered as Namgung Gijin swung his gang-gi-clad blade like lightning.
Slash-slash!
Boom!
In an instant, thirteen strokes carved the air. As his sword returned to its sheath, the boulder thudded down—once round, now a perfect square, its six faces cleanly hewn. And atop it, nineteen horizontal and vertical lines etched precisely.
In the blink of an eye, a Go board. Yeon couldn't help gasping in awe, clapping wildly.
"Whoa! Amazing!"
"Heh, it's nothing."
Namgung Gijin chuckled heartily and sat before the board. Yeon swiftly took her place opposite, eyes gleaming.
"Then… the stones…?"
"……."
He stared blankly into her eager eyes for a moment, then rummaged in his satchel, producing two small wooden boxes. Inside: black stones, white stones, brimming full.
Yeon let out a small gasp at the sight, though a hint of disappointment shadowed her eyes.
"Ah."
Though he'd done nothing wrong, Namgung Gijin cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Well… This old man could make them, but using freshly carved ones when we have these would be inefficient, no?"
"Yes…."
"No, really, I can. Child."
"Yes."
"Sigh… Even twenty years ago, this old man—"
As Namgung Gijin scrambled to justify himself to Yeon's faintly disappointed face, Damuk Hun—still unconscious nearby—faded from notice.