The Eccentric Elder (2)
Clack— Clack— The younger Yeon took black.
In situations where neither knew the other's skill level, it was common to decide who went first this generously.
Before long, Yeon and Namgung Gijin, both wearing serious expressions, exchanged moves rapidly.
Yeon was utterly delighted—it had been so long. Of course, Namgung Gijin was inferior to her, but he knew the game well enough, and his moves carried the solemn weight unique to an elder. As a result, Yeon gradually began matching her plays to his style.
Go wasn't truly about dividing victory from defeat; it was a game of sharing thoughts. Responding to an opponent's cautious move with one infused with your full spirit. Exchanging ideas, empathizing, and reaching deep mutual understanding—that was the essence of Go, the reason it was called the immortals' pastime.
Yeon, who had always been closest to that essence, naturally absorbed Namgung Gijin's moves with her whole being, reading his thoughts.
'If I respond here, you'll play at 12-15.'
Clack— After a moment's contemplation at Yeon's response, Namgung Gijin placed his stone exactly where she'd predicted, at 12-15.
'Here, you'll develop the upper right corner.'
Clack—
'That feels a bit forced. Your mind's getting impatient.'
Clack— As the game progressed, Yeon's eyes sparkled brighter and brighter. Her self-played mental games were on a far higher level, but for her, the distinction between high and low had long vanished. Every move offered fresh insight, and even facing seemingly absurd plays brought joy in discovering new ideas.
Yet even the most joyful moments must end.
Clack—
"…Let's count the territory."
"Yes."
The result was a one-point win for Yeon.
Namgung Gijin stared at the board for a moment before looking at Yeon and asking quietly,
"…Why did you go easy on this old man?"
"Pardon? Ah…"
She hadn't noticed while playing in high spirits, but now that he asked directly, Yeon's response faltered.
In truth, it wasn't going easy—she'd simply wanted to feel his moves, to see more of the plays he envisioned, to walk alongside him so he could unfold them fully. But she doubted he'd understand.
As Yeon hesitated without answering, Namgung Gijin misinterpreted and gave a hollow laugh.
"Were you worried this old man would be hurt by a crushing defeat?"
"No, that's not—"
"You seem to have something to say. Speak freely. It's fine."
Urged by Namgung Gijin, Yeon finally opened her mouth cautiously and shared her true thoughts.
After listening and nodding, he suddenly asked,
"Then why not show me your world?"
"Pardon?"
"Why do you only match my pace, helping me play what I want, without revealing your own moves? That's what I'm asking."
"…Ah."
It was a perfectly reasonable way to see it.
But the reason Yeon hadn't was simpler than it seemed: she wasn't sure he could comprehend the depths of her inner world.
What if she bared her soul only for it to be brushed past unheeded? How hollow and frustrating that solitary monologue would feel. Out of that fear, she'd hidden her true plays, merely supporting his.
At that moment, Namgung Gijin murmured as if reading her heart.
"What if I can't understand?"
"……."
"I know what you're thinking. Back in my youth, when my martial arts far outstripped others, I felt the same."
"Ah…."
A shock like a hammer blow struck Yeon's mind.
This elder before her had once reached the pinnacle in his field. How dare she entertain such arrogant thoughts in his presence?
Yeon, how could you assume others couldn't grasp your shallow plays?
What if they don't understand?
She realized he was right. This man had prattled on to her—a mere girl who knew nothing—sharing his thoughts, lamenting, explaining without end.
Had he expected her to understand? No.
And yet, here they were, sharing hearts across the board. A scene impossible without his words.
It was born of his will to step forward, knowing rejection or frustration might await.
Yeon's vision blurred.
I've been so arrogant all this time. Pretending humility, acting protective, while lording over others from on high.
"This girl has made a grave mistake. Thank you for your profound teaching."
"Haha."
"Then… shall we play another game?"
Namgung Gijin laughed heartily.
"Yes! Good. Show me your world!"
Thwack—!
Yeon played in earnest.
The rest of the game unfolded entirely differently. Namgung Gijin couldn't even properly respond to her bizarre, otherworldly moves, and unlike before, Yeon's mouth ran nonstop instead of silence.
"Twenty-three moves from now, 11-13 gets cut at the waist."
"Eleven moves ahead, the upper right corner dies completely."
Namgung Gijin focused harder, straining to comprehend her plays, desperately trying to alter the futures she foretold.
But no path changed her predictions; they all came true. His hand, gripping the stones, began to tremble.
It felt like defying a colossal natural disaster with a frail human body—like standing naked with a single sword against a hurtling meteor.
Even so, the perseverance and endurance honed by his lifelong martial arts kept him placing stones to the end.
But facing an unstoppable foe, his hand soon lost its place. The board had space, but nowhere to play. Walls closed in from all sides, strangling him.
What should I do? How? When will I break through this wall?
His hand shook, the tremor spreading through his body as black qi gathered on his face—the precursor to juhwa-ip-ma.
"Urgh…."
Then Yeon spoke.
"9-13."
Namgung Gijin's eyes snapped open. That spot—he'd dismissed it as hopeless long ago, not even considering it.
Yet now, after several moves, it shone as the sole lifeline.
Clack— With entranced eyes, Namgung Gijin played at 9-13.
Yeon pushed her white stone toward him and said quietly,
"10-13."
Gripping black, Namgung Gijin placed the white stone at 10-13 on her turn.
Something became visible. His mouth fell open unwittingly, murmuring rapidly.
"The tesuji was the only path to life. What created that tesuji was my mind driven to a dead end, and what broke through was also my mind at that dead end. What are jing and qi? Jing is the channel linking to the earth, qi the bridge where mind meets inner power. Then what is shen? Shen is humanity's sole sanctuary connecting to heaven, and the swiftest path to it is death—so one must drive oneself to a dead end, seek the lifeline, and only then commune with shen—"
At that instant— Namgung Gijin's body shuddered violently as terrifying inner energy erupted from every meridian.
Clack— Clack— Though Yeon had fallen silent, he continued placing stones in a trance.
Only then could Yeon finally smile.
The plays she'd feared no one could understand were being fully grasped by the man across the board.
Well played. You did well to play. Well done to seek understanding. Well done to guide him.
What use were even the most brilliant moves if played alone? How pathetic a clown's farce, how empty the solitude.
No matter how beautiful a waterfall, mountain vista, or constellation—without eyes to behold and voices to praise, what meaning could they hold?
At last, Yeon's move shone brightly, that radiance enveloping Namgung Gijin's entire body.
Rumble—!
It was thunder, yet strangely, the source wasn't the sky but Namgung Gijin's mind.
As the storming energy retracted into his body, a torrent of blood sprayed from his mouth like a waterfall.
"Puhaak—!"
Red blood stained his white robes. Eyes half-lidded, Namgung Gijin's body naturally assumed the lotus position and rose a zhang into the air.
Yeon was astonished by the phenomenon but soon calmed herself, assuming it was a master's enlightenment process in the martial world, and silently watched.
Sizzle— Black impurities poured from every pore.
They liquefied, staining his robes pitch-black, releasing an indescribable stench.
As the atmosphere grew dire, Yeon grunted and dragged the unconscious Damuk Hun farther away.
The next instant, a five-colored lotus bloomed above Namgung Gijin's head as his skin cracked open.
Yeon, knowing little of the martial world, grew terrified at the sight.
Should someone nearby do something in a situation like this? Am I failing by not helping?
But fearing she might worsen things by touching him, she could only stamp her feet anxiously.
"Grandfather…."
With worry in her voice, she barely whispered when Namgung Gijin's body blazed with light, his skin shattering and crumbling away.
Crack— Crraaack— Heat intense enough to melt his clothes erupted, forcing Yeon to shield her eyes and step back.
When the light faded, the old Namgung was gone, replaced by a young man with skin as fair as Yeon's.
"Wha…."
Approaching the unconscious youth, Yeon panicked.
By all signs, this was Namgung Gijin—suddenly rejuvenated. What kind of miracle was this? Could martial arts touching the heavens produce such wonders?
As faint doubts crept in about her own Go journey, the youth's eyes flew open.
"Hah…."
Exclaiming in awe, he sprang up, examining his hands, face, and body.
"…Are you alright?"
"Child."
Still trembling as he checked himself, Namgung Gijin stood and circulated his qi lightly. His dantian held double the inner power, his skin taut. His face was smooth, free of wrinkles.
Having personally undergone hwan-gol-tal-tae—the phenomenon at shen's threshold—tears of ecstasy welled in his eyes.
"I… Me… This…."
"Er… Are you okay?"
"Kh… Kkhuk… Thank you. So grateful. Child, truly, thank you."
For twenty years, he'd secluded himself in cultivation and Go, emerging only in lonely defeat to return home. This miraculous achievement at the last moment.
Was meeting Yeon not the greatest serendipity?
Even a battle-hardened elder couldn't contain his emotion.
Hugging Yeon's small shoulders and sobbing like a child, Namgung Gijin was gently embraced in return.
Fortunately, Yeon knew what to say from her orphanage days.
"Congratulations on your great accomplishment."
"Kkhuhuk…."
For a long while after, he clung to her, refusing to rise—until Yeon murmured softly,
"But Grandfather, your clothes melted away… You're naked right now…."
"……."
A moment later.
Damuk Hun awoke wearing only his undergarments.