The Stopping Hand
Morning came before dawn, but Seoryeong woke first. The room was still dark. A faint blue light seeped through the window, though the sun had not yet risen. Cheongseong Mountain was quieter at dawn. Yesterday, the sound of wooden swords and disciples' footsteps had come first, but today it was earlier still. The training grounds remained asleep, and few disciples moved between the halls. Wind passed through the pines with a low murmur.
Seoryeong sat atop her blanket and opened and closed her hand. The sensation of the dream lingered. A crimson battlefield. A massive halberd. And two short words: Don't move. Not yet. Now. Those words clung to her palm like splinters.
In past dreams she had always charged forward. When an enemy appeared she swung, and if blocked she pushed harder. Blood heated, the body moved first, thought followed after. But last night's dream had been different. Though her body wanted to burst ahead, she stopped. Though blood boiled, she waited. And in the final moment she struck. That single blow carried more weight than any swing before. Not because the strength was greater, but because she had held back, gathered, waited, then released.
Seoryeong looked down at her palm. Hold back, then strike. That could be stronger. She did not yet understand it fully, but her body remembered a little.
Today she would spar with Cheongmu. Cheongmu—the disciple who had called her a monster after hearing rumors, who had mocked her by asking if she had eaten from the Black Death Hall. When she heard those words she had wanted to hit him. Yesterday she held back and earned praise from Elder Ungak. But today was different. A formal spar had been permitted. She could fight. Within the rules, however. She must not kill. She must not gravely injure. If the opponent surrendered, she must stop. Hwarin would say exactly that. Seoryeong already felt as though she had heard it.
The hardest part was the last rule: stop. When she had driven the opponent into a corner and victory was certain, she had to halt her hand. Against a strong opponent it would be difficult. Against one who fled or fought dirty it would be even harder. Cheongmu was not like Sawoldo—filthy, reeking of poison and killing intent. Yet his pride was strong and his words displeased her. Seoryeong now understood that she wanted to hit people like him. Yesterday she had said it aloud: she was a little scared because she wanted to hit him. The words had been strange, but not wrong. Once she recognized the fire moving inside her, it was frightening.
Seoryeong turned her head toward the ebony staff leaning against the wall. Even in darkness the black wooden rod held a heavy shape. It had no edge, yet striking someone with it could easily break bone. She had sent Sawoldo's saber flying and shattered his teeth. Could she use it against Cheongmu today, or would she be made to use the wooden staff? Elder Ungak would likely set the rules. Seoryeong wanted to hold the ebony staff. Yet yesterday's lesson returned: the stronger one was, the more strictly one must govern oneself. A heavy weapon was not lifted by strength alone. Holding back was also part of combat.
Seoryeong rose and picked up the ebony staff. She did not swing it. She simply held it and felt its weight. When the weight returned, her mind steadied a little. Without the staff she now felt empty. This weight filled the void left after her first spear broke. Yet when her fingers brushed the broken spearhead at her waist, another sensation rose. Her first weapon. Carved in the village. Carried away when she left her father and mother's house. Broken after tasting the first blood of the jianghu, the first inn, the first ambush. Seoryeong gazed quietly at the broken spearhead. Someday she would have to set it down as well. Not yet. For now she wanted it close at hand.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. Hwarin.
“Awake?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought so.”
The door opened and Hwarin entered. Her robes were as neat as ever, yet her expression was a shade sterner than yesterday. She saw the ebony staff in Seoryeong's hand and spoke at once.
“Did you swing it?”
“No.”
“Truly?”
“Yeah. Just held it.”
Hwarin studied Seoryeong for a moment, then nodded.
“Good.”
Seoryeong felt a small satisfaction. Her first praise of the day.
Hwarin stepped inside and opened the window a little. Dawn wind entered, carrying the cold scent of the mountain. Seoryeong breathed it in. Her head cleared. Hwarin spoke.
“I'll tell you the sparring rules in advance.”
Seoryeong looked up.
“Yeah.”
“First, you must not kill your opponent.”
“Yeah.”
“Second, you must not deliberately break bones.”
Seoryeong paused. Hwarin's eyes narrowed.
“Why did you stop?”
“What if it's not on purpose?”
Hwarin sighed deeply.
“Try not to break any at all.”
“Yeah.”
“Third, if the opponent surrenders or an elder orders you to stop, you must cease immediately.”
“Immediately.”
“Yes. Immediately.”
“What if I'm late?”
“You lose.”
Seoryeong's eyes widened slightly.
“If I'm late stopping, I lose?”
“Today's spar is not only to see how strong you are. It is to see whether you can stop. If you cannot stop, you lose even if you win.”
Seoryeong held the words for a long time. Win yet lose. Strange words. Yet after yesterday she thought she understood a little. Etiquette had also been winning and losing. Holding back had also been combat. Then perhaps in sparring, simply knocking the opponent down was not the only victory.
Hwarin met Seoryeong's eyes.
“Your opponent today is not an enemy.”
“Cheongmu?”
“Yes. Even if you dislike him, he is not an enemy. He may become someone you train alongside within the same sect.”
“Someone on the level of a fellow disciple?”
Hwarin looked surprised, then laughed.
“You remembered.”
“Elder Ungak said it.”
“Yes. So do not fight to kill or destroy.”
Seoryeong looked down at the ebony staff.
“Then why fight?”
“To confirm each other's level and to learn.”
“Will Cheongmu learn too?”
“He should.”
“From me?”
Hwarin smiled.
“He might.”
Seoryeong found it curious. Cheongmu had mocked her. Could someone like that learn from her? Yet she herself had learned from Elder Ungak, from Dogyeom, even from Seol Hajin and Sawoldo. There had been things to learn even from people she disliked. Then perhaps Cheongmu could learn from her as well. Seoryeong nodded.
“Yeah. I'll try.”
Hwarin spoke with great seriousness.
“The most important thing is the hand that stops.”
Seoryeong looked at her hand. The hand that struck. The hand that grasped. The hand that held weapons. The hand that had received the bundle from her mother. The hand that had taken a village child's potato. The hand that had set down then picked up the ebony staff again. She had to stop that hand. Seoryeong nodded slowly.
“The hand that stops.”
Hwarin looked satisfied.
“Yes.”
Breakfast was much like yesterday's: rice, greens, tofu, clear soup. No meat. Seoryeong sat before the table and stared at it for a moment. Hwarin asked,
“Thinking about meat again?”
“Yeah.”
“Honesty suits you.”
“Is frugality training again today?”
“It is.”
Seoryeong picked up her chopsticks.
“Yes.”
Hwarin smiled. They ate in silence. Seoryeong spoke less, as she had been taught. The greens were still bitter; the tofu was soft. There was no meat, yet her stomach was full. While eating, Seoryeong recalled the scent of the training grounds. Many people would gather today. Yesterday Cheongmu had provoked her and Elder Ungak had permitted a formal spar. Rumors moved quickly even inside Cheongseong Sect. The monster held back. The monster endured Elder Ungak's lesson. The monster will spar with Cheongmu. Such words were probably circulating. Seoryeong no longer felt greatly shaken by the word “monster.” Hwarin had said one need not live only by the names others gave. She was Jin Seoryeong. That was enough.
When they headed for the training grounds after the meal, Cheongmyeong was already waiting. Today's Cheongmyeong seemed even more excited than yesterday.
“Young Lady Seoryeong, did you sleep well?”
Seoryeong nodded.
“Yeah.”
Cheongmyeong glanced at Dogyeom and said,
“Ah, it would be better if you said….”
Seoryeong corrected herself.
“Yes.”
Cheongmyeong beamed.
“Excellent. You learn remarkably fast.”
Dogyeom spoke from the side.
“Do not speak lightly. Today is a formal spar.”
Cheongmyeong hunched his shoulders.
“Yes, Senior Brother.”
Dogyeom looked at Seoryeong.
“You will use the wooden staff today.”
Seoryeong glanced at the ebony staff. She felt a twinge of disappointment, yet she had expected it.
“The ebony staff?”
“It stays outside the sparring area. It is far too dangerous for your opponent.”
“Cheongmu uses a wooden sword?”
“Yes.”
“Then it's similar?”
Dogyeom thought for a moment.
“Not exactly the same, but it is for safety.”
Seoryeong nodded. Safety. Cheongseong Sect kept saying such words. Regulations. Etiquette. Patience. Safety. It still felt strange that so many words clung to combat. Yet she had to learn.
As they neared the training grounds the scent of people grew stronger. More than yesterday. Disciples had gathered. Some waited openly; others pretended to train while glancing over. Elder Ungak already stood at the center. Beside him was the gentle elder, Elder Unso—the one who had smiled in Cheongheo Hall yesterday. He smiled softly upon seeing Seoryeong.
“Did you sleep well?”
Seoryeong performed a fist-palm salute.
“Yes.”
Elder Unso narrowed his eyes and laughed.
“In one night your etiquette has improved considerably.”
Seoryeong looked at Elder Ungak.
“I learned.”
Elder Ungak's gaze shifted slightly. He offered no praise, yet he did not scold either. That reaction was acceptable.
Cheongmu stood on the opposite side of the training grounds. Today he was dressed more neatly than yesterday. His hair was tightly bound and a wooden sword hung at his waist instead of a real blade. His eyes remained sharp. The scolding from Elder Ungak yesterday still seemed to linger, yet it was not simple anger. Pride. Tension. And a trace of unease. Seoryeong smelled it. Cheongmu wanted to look down on her, yet he could not fully do so. That only made him more sensitive.
Elder Ungak stepped into the center.
“Today's spar is part of Jin Seoryeong's test. At the same time it will serve as training for Cheongmu as well.”
Cheongmu's face stiffened. He had perhaps thought he would act as examiner. Yet Elder Ungak had declared it training for him too.
“I will state the rules.”
The entire training ground fell silent.
“First, real blades are not permitted. Cheongmu will use a wooden sword; Jin Seoryeong will use a wooden staff.”
A disciple handed Seoryeong a wooden staff. It was light, similar to the one she had used yesterday. Seoryeong set the ebony staff down at the edge of the grounds beside Hwarin and accepted the staff. It felt far too light in her hand. Yet today she did not frown. Lightness was also part of the test.
“Second, direct strikes to the head, neck, heart, and dantian are forbidden.”
Seoryeong repeated inwardly: head, neck, heart, dantian. Do not strike directly.
“Third, if the opponent surrenders or I order a stop, cease immediately.”
Immediately. Seoryeong carved the word into her mind.
“Fourth, do not insult or provoke your opponent out of emotion during the spar.”
Elder Ungak's gaze turned to Cheongmu. Cheongmu pressed his lips together.
“Fifth, the purpose of this spar is not to defeat the opponent, but to observe one's own disorder.”
Seoryeong tilted her head slightly. Not to defeat the opponent, but to observe one's own disorder. Difficult. Yet it resembled what she had learned yesterday. To see whether strength entered too forcefully. Whether she grew hasty. Whether she could stop. Elder Ungak asked,
“Do you understand?”
Cheongmu performed a fist-palm salute.
“Yes.”
Seoryeong did the same.
“Yes.”
Elder Ungak looked at them both.
“Show proper courtesy before beginning.”
Cheongmu executed the salute with practiced ease. Seoryeong followed, a little late yet clearly. A small murmur rose from one side of the grounds.
“She's really doing it.”
“Better than yesterday.”
“First time seeing the silver-haired monster salute.”
When Hwarin's gaze swept that way the whispers ceased at once. Seoryeong paid them little mind. The Cheongmu before her mattered more.
Cheongmu raised his wooden sword to mid-level. His stance was solid. Unlike yesterday's light words, the sight of him holding a sword was respectable. His footwork was good; his shoulders did not tremble. His eyes alternated between Seoryeong's hands and shoulders. He was truly someone who had learned the sword. Seoryeong lowered her staff. A light wooden staff. The posture Elder Ungak had corrected again and again yesterday. Feet. Waist. Shoulders. Wrists. Do not pour too much strength in. Do not pour too little either. Middle. The middle was difficult.
Elder Ungak's hand descended.
“Begin.”
Cheongmu moved first. Cheongseong's sword was clean. The wooden sword came forward lightly. The first move was a probing, shallow thrust. Seoryeong tried to block with the staff, yet yesterday's correction flashed through her mind. The feet die first. She did not stop her feet; she took half a step aside. The tip of the wooden sword brushed her robe. Cheongmu's eyes changed slightly. He came in again. This time a diagonal slash. Seoryeong caught it with the staff. Thud. Wooden sword and staff met. Cheongmu's sword was lighter than expected. It was not a sword that pushed with force, but one that continued flow. For an instant Seoryeong wanted to push. She wanted to press down with the staff, break his sword, then drive in with her shoulder. Yet that might become too strong. The hand that stops. Seoryeong reduced her strength a little. In that brief moment Cheongmu withdrew his sword and circled to the side. The tip of the wooden sword grazed Seoryeong's forearm. Thud. It did not hurt. Yet she had been hit.
The disciples stirred. Cheongmu's mouth corner lifted slightly.
“Slower than the rumors.”
Elder Ungak's gaze turned cold at once.
“Cheongmu.”
Cheongmu closed his mouth. Provocation was forbidden. Seoryeong looked at her forearm. She had been hit. Yet she felt no anger. Rather, she thought she understood a little. Cheongmu saw openings well. He had struck the moment she hesitated while reducing strength. That was not bad. Seoryeong nodded.
“Good.”
Cheongmu paused.
“What?”
“Just now.”
Cheongmu's face grew strange. He seemed unable to decide whether it was praise or mockery. Hwarin gave a small laugh. Seoryeong had been sincere. Good movement was good. Even if she disliked the opponent, she could learn what was worth learning. Cheongmu reset his stance. This time he came in faster. Three consecutive strikes. Wrist, shoulder, side. Cheongseong's basic sword path continued. Seoryeong blocked the first with the staff and twisted her body to evade the second. She did not block the third strike to the side. She took one step inward. Cheongmu's eyes widened. Seoryeong shortened her grip on the staff and pushed beneath his wrist. Thud. The tip of his sword lifted slightly. She could have struck immediately. Chin. Chest. Shoulder. Anywhere. Yet head, neck, heart, and dantian were forbidden. She must not gravely injure. Seoryeong hesitated for an instant. Because of that hesitation Cheongmu escaped backward. Hwarin held her breath watching the scene. Seoryeong could have struck yet stopped. Only she had stopped too long. In that gap Cheongmu revived. Elder Ungak saw it as well. His gaze deepened. Cheongmu gritted his teeth. He realized he had been caught. The child had hesitated, allowing him to escape. That fact wounded his pride.
“Did you go easy on me?”
Seoryeong shook her head.
“I was thinking where to hit.”
“That's going easy.”
“No. I was thinking about the rules.”
Cheongmu's face hardened. Dogyeom spoke quietly.
“Cheongmu, speak less during the spar.”
Cheongmu did not answer. He lowered his stance. This time his presence felt different. The desire to finish quickly was visible. Seoryeong sensed the change. Cheongmu's breathing had grown shallow. Pride was moving. That could become an opening. Elder Ungak's words to Cheongmu yesterday returned. Vanity. The opponent had been shaken by rumors. And now, believing she had gone easy on him, he was shaken further. Seoryeong adjusted the strength in the hand holding the staff. Cheongmu charged. His sword came fast. This time it was closer to real combat than the basic path. The first move came from above. The second from below. The third twisted the body toward her side. Quite fast. Seoryeong blocked the first two. On the third she deliberately took a step back. Cheongmu followed. At that moment Seoryeong did not thrust the staff long. She drew it back instead. Cheongmu's sword cut empty air. His body leaned forward ever so slightly. Seoryeong entered then. Feet. Waist. Shoulders. Wrist last. It was the basic thrust she had learned yesterday. The tip of the staff pressed precisely beneath Cheongmu's right shoulder. Thud. Not hard, yet heavy enough. Cheongmu's body swayed backward. He gritted his teeth and endured. A small exclamation spread through the training grounds.
“She hit.”
“Wasn't that the basic thrust just now?”
“She used what she learned yesterday right away.”
Seoryeong withdrew the staff. Elder Ungak had said recovery was also movement. Cheongmu touched his shoulder. It would hurt. Yet nothing was broken. Seoryeong asked,
“Are you all right?”
Cheongmu's face reddened further.
“Worrying about your opponent during a spar?”
Seoryeong answered seriously.
“They said not to break anything.”
Cheongmu gritted his teeth.
“Don't treat me like a child.”
“You're not a child?”
“I'm older than you!”
“Then you won't break, will you?”
Someone on one side of the grounds swallowed a laugh. Cheongmu's pride shook harder. Hwarin pressed her forehead. Seoryeong bore no malice. That made her more lethal. Elder Ungak spoke quietly.
“Both of you, focus.”
Seoryeong nodded. Cheongmu reset his stance as well. This time there were no words. His eyes had grown serious. Seoryeong found that a little pleasing. Better than before. Sword was better than words. Cheongmu's next attack was far calmer. He had pressed down the heat of pride a little. The sword tip did not waver. Instead of avoiding Seoryeong's staff he tried to bind it with his sword path. The wooden sword brushed, coiled around, and pushed the staff away. Cheongseong's sword was said to resemble mountain and water. Seoryeong had never heard those words, yet she felt them with her body a little. Cheongmu's sword did not come only straight. It flowed sideways, then returned to target the wrist. It was not as cold and thin as Seol Hajin's sword. Cheongseong's sword was a little firmer and clearer. Seoryeong tried to pull the staff free. Cheongmu did not miss it and came in. Thud. The wooden sword struck Seoryeong's shoulder. This time it was a clear hit. Seoryeong's body swayed slightly. Cheongmu's eyes brightened. He immediately followed with a second attack. He came in too fast. Believing his opponent had been shaken, he pressed forward. Seoryeong almost laughed. Good. That movement just now had been good. Yet the second had been hasty. It was a mistake she herself often made. When the opponent shook, one wanted to push harder. Then an opening appeared. Seoryeong used the impact on her shoulder to turn her body further. The wooden sword cut empty air. She shortened her grip on the staff and pressed beside Cheongmu's thigh. Thud. Cheongmu's balance collapsed. Just before his knee touched the ground, Seoryeong instinctively wanted to advance further. She could have driven the staff into his back and planted him completely on the ground. That would have been certain. Cheongmu would have difficulty rising again. Yet—the hand that stops. Seoryeong's staff halted in midair. A hand's breadth above Cheongmu's back. Kneeling, he swallowed his breath. The entire training ground fell silent. Elder Ungak's gaze deepened. Hwarin unconsciously pressed her lips together. Seoryeong had stopped. Truly stopped. Yet the spar was not over. Elder Ungak had not ordered a stop and Cheongmu had not surrendered. Seoryeong slowly withdrew the staff.
“Get up.”
Cheongmu's face hardened. The words were consideration, yet to Cheongmu they sounded like humiliation. He gritted his teeth and rose.
“You….”
“I stopped.”
Seoryeong was sincere.
“Did I do well?”
Cheongmu's face reddened further. He could not answer. Elder Ungak spoke instead.
“You did well.”
It was a short praise. Seoryeong nodded. Cheongmu knew the praise was directed at Seoryeong, not himself, and shook harder. His breathing grew rough again. Elder Ungak warned,
“Cheongmu.”
Cheongmu closed his eyes, then opened them. He raised his sword again. This time he said nothing. Yet his presence had changed. Pride had been wounded. And now he wanted to win. At first he had only wanted to press down the rumored child. Now it was different. He felt he had been looked down upon. The opponent had gone easy, worried, stopped. All of it felt like humiliation to Cheongmu. Seoryeong smelled it. The scent had changed. Cheongmu's breath was growing hot. Similar to when her own fire rose. Yet a little different. Her fire was the heat drawn to combat; Cheongmu's fire was the heat of wounded pride. Both could be dangerous. Seoryeong gripped the staff. This time Cheongmu moved faster. Variations outside Cheongseong's basic sword path mixed in. The first move came low. The second upward. The third tried to coil around the wrist and snatch the staff away. Dogyeom's face hardened.
“Cheongmu, that's excessive.”
Cheongmu did not listen. The wooden sword struck Seoryeong's wrist hard. Thud. Pain rose. Seoryeong's hand loosened for an instant. Cheongmu's sword pushed the staff away. The staff flew to the side. The disciples murmured. Seoryeong's hand was empty. Cheongmu did not miss the gap. The wooden sword descended toward Seoryeong's shoulder. A winning move. Yet too strong. Elder Ungak's gaze turned cold. Just as he was about to order a stop, Seoryeong moved. The moment she lost her weapon her body became more natural instead. It had always been so since childhood. No spear, then fist. Fist could not reach, then shoulder. If the leg moved, knee. The body was also a weapon. Yet today she must not strike as she pleased. Seoryeong did not try to catch the descending wooden sword with her hand. The hand could be injured. Instead she deflected it with the outside of her forearm and twisted her body inward. Cheongmu's wooden sword grazed Seoryeong's shoulder. There was pain. Yet it was not deep. Seoryeong seized Cheongmu's wrist. If she twisted hard it would break. So she did not twist. She held the wrist, lowered her body, and pulled Cheongmu's center toward her. Thud. Cheongmu's body leaned forward. Seoryeong could have driven her knee into his stomach. She did not. She could have rammed with her shoulder. She did not. She could have seized his neck and planted him on the ground. She did not. Instead she hooked his leg, held the wrist, and turned direction. Cheongmu's body spun half a circle and fell to the ground. Thud. His back touched the dirt. Seoryeong did not release his wrist; she pressed the hand holding the wooden sword to the ground. Cheongmu gasped for breath. Seoryeong stopped above his face. She did not raise a fist. She had no staff. She simply pressed the wrist and spoke.
“Stop.”
Cheongmu gritted his teeth. His eyes were filled with anger and humiliation.
“Let go.”
“Surrender?”
“Who said I'm surrendering….”
Cheongmu tried to grab Seoryeong's collar with his other hand. Seoryeong's gaze turned cold for an instant. If she pressed harder it would end. If she twisted the wrist he would drop the sword. If she struck the shoulder he would not rise. Those thoughts rose all at once. And at the same time Hwarin's voice echoed in her mind. The hand that stops. Seoryeong did not add more strength. Instead, still pressing Cheongmu's wrist, she looked at Elder Ungak.
“Should I stop?”
After a very short silence Elder Ungak spoke.
“Stop.”
Seoryeong released her hand at once and stepped back. Truly at once. Not a single beat late. The entire training ground fell silent. Hwarin exhaled. Her hand had unconsciously moved near her sword sheath. Dogyeom looked at Cheongmu with a hardened face, then at Seoryeong again. Cheongmyeong stood with his mouth open, unable to speak. Elder Unso narrowed his eyes and smiled, yet that smile held deep interest. Elder Ungak spoke.
“Spar concluded.”
Cheongmu lay on the ground, rigid. He had not yet surrendered. Yet the elder had ordered a stop. And Seoryeong had stopped. That alone ended the spar. Seoryeong picked up the staff that had fallen to the ground. Her wrist ached a little; her shoulder throbbed as well. Yet there were no serious injuries. She looked at Cheongmu.
“Are you all right?”
Cheongmu did not answer. He slowly rose. His face was red; his gaze trembled. Defeat. A word he found difficult to accept. Yet everyone gathered in the training grounds had seen. Seoryeong had lost her weapon. Even so she had knocked Cheongmu down, pressed his wrist, and could have injured him further yet stopped. Cheongmu bit his lip. Elder Ungak spoke.
“Cheongmu.”
Cheongmu lowered his head.
“Yes.”
“You lost twice today.”
Cheongmu's body stiffened.
“First, you lost in the spar. Second, you lost to yourself.”
The air in the training grounds grew heavy. Elder Ungak's words were sharp.
“You grew angry believing your opponent had gone easy on you. In that anger you forgot the rules. Your sword became not Cheongseong's sword but a rod of your pride.”
Cheongmu could say nothing.
“On the other hand, Jin Seoryeong did not break your wrist even after losing her weapon. When I ordered a stop she ceased at once. In today's test the one closer to Cheongseong was that child.”
Those words settled over the training grounds. The disciples' gazes wavered. The silver-haired monster. The dangerous child from the rumors. That child had been closer to Cheongseong. The words had come from Elder Ungak's mouth. Cheongmu's face paled. Seoryeong looked at Elder Ungak.
“Praise?”
Elder Ungak looked at Seoryeong. Yesterday he might have sighed. Today he nodded very slowly.
“It is. Praise.”
Seoryeong's face brightened a little. Hwarin gave a small laugh. Elder Unso spoke quietly.
“An interesting child.”
Elder Ungak did not answer. Yet he did not deny it either. Cheongmu looked at Seoryeong. There was still resentment in his eyes. Yet it was different from before. Within that resentment was an unwilling recognition. He set down the wooden sword and forced a fist-palm salute.
“I lost.”
His voice was stiff. Yet he had said it. Seoryeong looked at him. Then she returned the salute.
“Yeah.”
Hwarin immediately spoke quietly.
“Yes.”
Seoryeong corrected herself.
“Yes.”
Cheongmu's expression twisted strangely. The opponent who had declared defeat was correcting etiquette. A face that could not decide whether to be angry or laugh. Cheongmyeong finally burst into laughter and was struck on the back of the head by Dogyeom. Elder Ungak spoke to the entire training grounds.
“Those who witnessed today's spar, remember this. It is not strength that is frightening. It is the inability to stop that is frightening. And the way to stop begins in the Hall of Etiquette and is proven in the training grounds.”
The disciples bowed in unison.
“Yes.”
Seoryeong bowed as well. A little late, yet properly. After the spar the disciples scattered in groups. Yet the gazes that remained in the training grounds had changed. Eyes that had once looked upon a monster now saw something different. Fear had not completely vanished. Curiosity remained. Yet within them was a very small trace of recognition. Seoryeong felt it. She did not know exactly what it was, yet she did not dislike it.
Dogyeom approached.
“Let me see your wrist.”
Seoryeong held out her wrist. The place struck by Cheongmu's wooden sword was slightly red. Dogyeom examined it carefully.
“The bone is fine.”
“Yeah.”
“Did it hurt?”
“A little.”
“Yet you did not let go.”
“I let go. The staff.”
“I meant after that. Yourself.”
Seoryeong tilted her head. Dogyeom chose his words, then spoke briefly.
“Well done.”
Seoryeong nodded.
“Thank you.”
Dogyeom no longer seemed greatly flustered; he had grown somewhat accustomed. Cheongmyeong spoke from the side.
“That was truly impressive. Dropping your weapon and immediately seizing the wrist to throw—where did you learn that?”
Seoryeong thought. Where had she learned it? In the mountains. From beasts. While fighting people. Her body had learned.
“Just.”
Cheongmyeong looked impressed.
“‘Just’ is the most frightening.”
Hwarin came to Seoryeong's side. Without a word she examined Seoryeong's shoulder. A red mark remained where the wooden sword had grazed.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me if it hurts.”
“It hurts a little.”
Hwarin smiled.
“You say it well.”
“They said not to hide it.”
“Yes.”
Hwarin took out a handkerchief to apply medicine. Seoryeong remained still. In the past she would not have paid attention to such a small wound. Yet if Hwarin wanted to see, she should show. Hiding wounds only caused more trouble later. She had learned that as well.
Elder Unso approached. He looked at Seoryeong with interest.
“Jin Seoryeong.”
Seoryeong performed a fist-palm salute.
“Yes.”
Elder Unso laughed.
“Your etiquette has improved a little now.”
“I am learning.”
“You learned that too?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. How to speak before adults. The tone Hwarin had taught. The answers Dogyeom had pointed out. The posture Elder Ungak had instructed.
“Yes.”
Elder Unso nodded with satisfaction.
“What was best in today's spar was not that you won. It was that you stopped.”
Seoryeong nodded.
“Hwarin said that too.”
“Then you listened well.”
Elder Unso looked at Hwarin.
“You have your hands full.”
Hwarin performed a fist-palm salute.
“I am managing.”
“Do not merely manage—raise her well. That child is like a blade without a sheath, yet if she learns the sheath she can become a great weapon.”
Seoryeong heard those words and asked,
“Sheath?”
Elder Unso laughed.
“Containing oneself when not swinging.”
Seoryeong thought a little. Sheath. Containing oneself. It seemed similar to the hand that stops.
“Then the sheath is also combat?”
Elder Unso laughed loudly.
“Yes. In your way of thinking, it would be.”
Elder Ungak spoke from the side.
“Do not laugh too much, Junior Brother. The child will grow spoiled.”
Elder Unso continued to laugh.
“Senior Brother Ungak, today is a day when a little laughter is permitted, is it not?”
Elder Ungak did not answer. Yet his expression was far less sharp than yesterday. Seoryeong felt that as well. Elder Ungak still did not completely like her. Yet he disliked her less than yesterday. That was enough.
Cheongmu was receiving a scolding from Dogyeom in a corner of the training grounds. Dogyeom's voice was low yet firm. Cheongmu listened with his head lowered. Seoryeong looked that way. Hwarin asked,
“Why are you looking?”
“Cheongmu is learning too.”
Hwarin smiled.
“Yes. He should.”
“Will we fight again tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You did enough today.”
Seoryeong felt a little disappointed, yet nodded.
“Yes.”
Hwarin laughed at that answer. After the spar the morning training concluded lightly. Yet to Seoryeong it was not light at all. Elder Ungak had her practice the basic thrust even after the spar ended.
“Even after excitement the foundation must not collapse.”
With those words he made her hold the staff again. Seoryeong was tired. The heat of the spar still remained in her hands. The sensation of knocking Cheongmu down. The moment she stopped. The sensation of stepping back at once when Elder Ungak ordered a stop. All of it remained, yet she had to do the basic thrust again. Still she did it. Once. Twice. Ten times. Twenty times. Feet. Waist. Shoulders. Wrist. Recovery. Again. Seoryeong thought she understood a little. Practicing the foundation after winning a spar was to see whether the fire inside her remained even after combat ended. To calm excitement and repeat the same movement. That too was an extension of the hand that stops.
When lunchtime came Seoryeong was hungrier than yesterday. On the way to the dining hall she asked in earnest,
“No meat today either?”
Hwarin laughed.
“Probably not.”
“Even after sparring?”
“Cheongseong's meals do not change to match your sparring.”
Seoryeong wore a momentarily shocked expression. Cheongmyeong beside her tried to hold back laughter and failed. Dogyeom spoke.
“It is good to eat frugally even after training.”
Seoryeong looked at him.
“Does Dogyeom dislike meat?”
Dogyeom paused for a moment.
“I like it.”
“Yet you hold back?”
“Yes.”
Seoryeong nodded seriously.
“Dogyeom is strong too.”
Dogyeom stiffened at the unexpected words. Cheongmyeong laughed openly this time. Hwarin could not hold back her laughter either. Dogyeom cleared his throat and said,
“That is not the meaning of strength I intended… but thank you.”
Seoryeong nodded. When praised, say thank you. Now Dogyeom seemed to have learned as well.
After lunch Seoryeong stopped by the Medical Hall to see Yu Soha. Yu Soha sat on the bed drinking medicine. Her face was still pale, yet she looked far more stable than on the road. Without the wooden box in her arms her hands looked a little empty. When Seoryeong entered, Yu Soha's face brightened.
“I heard the spar has ended.”
Seoryeong nodded.
“Yeah.”
Hwarin spoke quietly.
“Yes.”
Seoryeong corrected herself.
“Yes.”
Yu Soha laughed.
“You really seem to be becoming a person of Cheongseong Sect now.”
Seoryeong tilted her head.
“They said I'm not a disciple yet.”
“Still.”
“I beat Cheongmu.”
“You did not injure him greatly, did you?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment.
“I knocked him down a little.”
Hwarin added,
“She did not injure him greatly. She stopped well.”
Yu Soha's eyes softened.
“Well done.”
Seoryeong felt a little proud. Much praise today. Yu Soha hesitated for a moment, then spoke.
“I also… feel strange without the wooden box.”
Seoryeong looked at her hands.
“Empty?”
“Yes.”
“Still lighter?”
Yu Soha looked at Seoryeong as though surprised. Then she nodded slowly.
“A little.”
Seoryeong nodded.
“Then that's good.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. If it's heavy you can't carry it long.”
Yu Soha quietly laughed at those words. Seoryeong-style comfort. Hwarin said nothing from the side. She simply listened to their conversation. Seoryeong was still clumsy with words. Yet sometimes she was so simple that she reached the core. If it's heavy you can't carry it long. The same was true of secret manuals, guilt, and the past. Yu Soha would hold those words for a long time.
In the afternoon Elder Ungak's training continued. This time it was analysis after the spar. Elder Ungak summoned both Seoryeong and Cheongmu and stood them in the center of the training grounds. Cheongmu still wore an awkward expression. He tried to look at Seoryeong, then averted his gaze. Elder Ungak spoke.
“Speak of what you learned in the spar. Cheongmu first.”
Cheongmu pressed his lips together. After a long while he said,
“I was hasty.”
“Again.”
“I took the opponent's stopping as humiliation.”
“Again.”
“I forgot the rules.”
Elder Ungak nodded.
“Yes. The sword reflects the heart. When the heart is disordered the sword is disordered as well.”
Cheongmu lowered his head.
“Yes.”
Elder Ungak looked at Seoryeong.
“Jin Seoryeong.”
“Yes.”
“What did you learn?”
Seoryeong thought for a moment. What she had learned. Cheongmu's sword had been good. His pride had been bad. The staff was light. Stopping was difficult. Even without a weapon the body moved. Yet just because the body moved did not mean she could do anything. She spoke.
“If you stop, you can win.”
Elder Ungak's eyebrows moved slightly.
“Explain.”
Seoryeong took time choosing her words.
“When Cheongmu fell I could have hit him more. Yet I did not. So Elder Ungak said I did well.”
“Yes.”
“At the end I could have broken his wrist. I did not. When told to stop I stopped. So it ended.”
“Yes.”
“Then stopping is also winning.”
A brief silence settled over the training grounds. Elder Ungak looked at Seoryeong for a long time. Her words were crude. Yet accurate. Stopping is also winning. There were times when it was more difficult than defeating the opponent. Because it was defeating oneself. Elder Ungak nodded slowly.
“That is enough for today.”
Seoryeong felt a little satisfaction. Cheongmu looked at Seoryeong from the side. His gaze was complicated. He had not completely accepted it yet. Yet at least the mockery had vanished.
As the afternoon training neared its end, Elder Ungak said something unexpected.
“From tomorrow Jin Seoryeong will learn Cheongseong's basic footwork and breathing.”
Seoryeong looked up.
“Footwork?”
“The way to use the feet.”
“Breathing?”
“The way to use breath.”
Seoryeong looked back and forth between her own feet and chest. She already used her feet. She already breathed. Yet she had to learn those as well. There was truly much to learn in Cheongseong Sect.
“Is that difficult too?”
Elder Ungak spoke calmly.
“It will be difficult.”
Seoryeong nodded.
“Then I'll do it.”
Elder Ungak's mouth corner moved ever so slightly. It was impossible to tell whether it was a smile. “Good.”
That evening another rumor circulated through the training grounds. The silver-haired monster had defeated Cheongmu. Yet she had not broken any bones. When the elder ordered a stop she stopped at once. Elder Ungak had praised her. And the monster had said: stopping is also winning. The rumor would change again. Perhaps by tomorrow it would be strangely inflated. Yet this rumor was a little different from before. Seoryeong was no longer simply a monster that devoured people. A monster that knew how to stop. Whether that was a good or bad thing was unknown, yet at least the direction had changed.
Returning to the annex, Seoryeong was tired. Truly tired. Today she had properly sparred. Yet strangely, her head was more tired than on the day she fought Sawoldo. She had to think of rules, choose where to strike, control strength, and stop. Combat had grown complicated. Yet it had also grown wider.
After dinner Hwarin brought tea. Seoryeong drank and frowned.
“Bitter.”
“It is good for the body.”
“Why is what is good for the body bitter?”
“Generally it is so.”
“Meat tastes good and is good for the body too.”
Hwarin laughed.
“Someday when we go down the mountain I will buy you meat.”
Seoryeong's eyes brightened at once.
“When?”
“After you pass some tests.”
“All of them?”
“First, after you pass these initial tests.”
Seoryeong nodded seriously.
“I'll pass.”
Hwarin could not hold back her laughter.
“Motivated by meat.”
“I like meat.”
“Yes. I know.”
Seoryeong drank another sip of tea. Bitter. Yet she endured. This too might be training. Hwarin spoke quietly.
“You truly did well today.”
Seoryeong looked up. Hwarin's voice was gentler than usual.
“Because I beat Cheongmu?”
“That too. But because you stopped.”
Seoryeong looked down at her hand.
“The hand that stops.”
“Yes.”
“It was difficult.”
“I know.”
“Sometimes more difficult than striking.”
Hwarin nodded.
“If you understood that, you have learned something great.”
Seoryeong opened and closed her hand. When she had held Cheongmu's wrist today, a little more strength would have broken it. Her body had known. Which direction to twist, how much to press. Yet she stopped. That moment kept returning. She could stop. Not perfectly. Yet today she had done it. That fact strangely reassured her.
“Hwarin.”
“What?”
“Have I become a little less dangerous?”
Hwarin was silent for a moment. Seoryeong was asking in earnest. Seol Hajin had said she was dangerous. Elder Ungak had said she was dangerous. Hwarin had worried as well. Seoryeong did not think she was completely safe. Yet today she had stopped. Then had she become a little less dangerous? Hwarin looked at Seoryeong, then spoke slowly.
“A little.”
Seoryeong's eyes brightened ever so slightly. Hwarin added,
“Yet there is still far to go.”
“Yeah.”
“Still, today you clearly improved.”
Seoryeong nodded. That was enough. A little less dangerous. A little improved. Similar to growing stronger. Not becoming tremendously strong all at once, but little by little. Like carving a wooden spear. Like repeating the basic thrust. The fire inside her too had to be handled little by little.
Night deepened. Seoryeong lay in her room. The ebony staff was within reach. The broken spearhead was beside her pillow as well. Her wrist throbbed a little; her shoulder ached. Yet her mind was a little quieter than yesterday. Cheongseong Sect was still difficult. Etiquette was difficult, meatless meals were difficult, the light staff was difficult. Elder Ungak was sharp, Dogyeom was neat, Cheongmyeong was noisy, Cheongmu was still displeasing. Yet there was much to learn. And today she had learned one thing. Stopping is also winning.
Seoryeong closed her eyes. A dream came. A crimson battlefield. A massive halberd. This time enemies did not rush forward. Seoryeong stood in the middle of the battlefield and before her was one person. The face was blurred. Yet strong. That person held no weapon. Simply looked at Seoryeong. Seoryeong held the halberd. Her body wanted to swing. She knew the opponent was strong. Blood heated. Yet the Seoryeong in the dream did not move at once. The opponent spoke. Can you stop? Seoryeong put strength into her hand. The halberd trembled. The battlefield was silent. The scent of blood and iron filled it, yet strangely the wind carried the scent of Cheongseong Mountain. Seoryeong answered. Still difficult. The opponent laughed. That laugh was unfamiliar yet familiar. Then learn. Seoryeong opened her eyes. Dawn was still far. The moon was outside the window. She slowly opened her hand. The weight of the halberd from the dream remained in her hand. Yet today there was a clearer sensation than that weight. The moment she released Cheongmu's wrist. Elder Ungak's order to stop. Her own feet stepping back at once. That too remained in her hand. Seoryeong quietly exhaled. She thought she understood a little. Growing stronger was not only gripping harder. Being able to let go when it was time to let go was also strength. It was still difficult. Yet she would learn. And someday when she held the halberd, not only the hand that swung that heavy weapon but the hand that stopped must grow strong together. Seoryeong closed her eyes again. The night of Cheongseong was quiet. And within that quiet, the fire inside her too was growing a little quieter.