Walking with the Vessel

Seoryeong woke before dawn. She did not reach for anything the moment her eyes opened. She did not look at the halberd propped against the wall. First, she drew a breath. Then she let it out. The habit was beginning to settle into her body. The hand that once sought a weapon first now sought breath instead. She noticed the change and felt a strange sensation. She was changing. Little by little.

She still wanted to charge at strong people. Her hands still itched when she saw heavy weapons. The smell of meat still made every thought stop for a moment. That had not changed. But a small gap had opened between those impulses and her actions. A gap before charging. A gap before grabbing. A gap before eating. A gap before growing angry. Inside that gap, she was learning to lower her breath, watch her feet, and still her hands.

Yesterday she had not touched the halberd all day. She had wanted to, yet she had not. That alone left her strangely tired. She had not fought, had not run, had not swung the weapon, yet her body felt drained. Still, the inside of her mind was quieter than the day before. The ember remained. It had neither grown nor gone out. It simply was. Seoryeong liked that. The ember’s presence was no longer only frightening. The fact that it had not disappeared brought a measure of relief. It was still inside her. She had not lost it. She simply refused to draw it out carelessly.

Seoryeong sat on her blanket and felt the space inside her chest. She did not reach for the ember. She did not press on it. She did not let it leak. She contained it in a vessel. Elder Ungak had never spoken the word directly, but yesterday’s sensation had taught her to understand it that way. The ember was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not something to be clutched in the hand. If she clutched it, it might slip between her fingers or burn her palm. It had to be held in a vessel. The vessel had to be sturdy. Too narrow and the ember would feel trapped and go mad. Too wide and it would roll about and set the room ablaze.

Vessel. Seoryeong wondered if her own body might be that vessel. Feet. Breath. Waist. Hands. And mind. All of them had to become the vessel. The thought made the urge to hold the halberd rise again. What would happen if she carried the halberd while keeping the ember inside the vessel? Could she hold the weapon without the ember leaking out? Could she keep the ember from racing to the tip? She was curious. But she had not yet been given permission. Seoryeong placed her hands on her knees. She would not touch it. Not yet.

Outside the door, she sensed Hwarin’s presence. This time Seoryeong spoke first. “I didn’t touch it today either.”

A soft laugh came from beyond the door. The door opened and Hwarin entered. “You answered before I even asked.”

“I wanted to.”

“So you didn’t?”

“Yes.”

Hwarin stepped inside, glanced at the halberd, then at Seoryeong’s hands. The fingertips looked the same as usual—neither hot nor trembling. Hwarin nodded, satisfied. “Good.”

Seoryeong’s eyes brightened a little. She did not ask whether it was praise. She simply nodded quietly. Hwarin smiled at the change. “You seem to know whether something is praise or not now.”

Seoryeong thought for a moment. “A little.”

“That is growth as well.”

“Is that praise too?”

“Yes.”

Seoryeong felt satisfied. That was the first praise of the day.

Hwarin picked up the hair ribbon and moved behind Seoryeong. Tying her hair had become a natural part of the morning. Seoryeong still felt occasionally stifled, yet she did not move much. Hair that did not cover her eyes was better for both fighting and training. Thinking that way made it bearable.

While gathering the silver strands, Hwarin spoke. “Elder Ungak may allow you to hold the halberd today.”

Seoryeong’s body shifted ever so slightly. Hwarin immediately caught her hair. “Do not move.”

“Yes.”

“You just trembled.”

“I was a little happy.”

“Exactly. That is why you must be more careful.”

Seoryeong let out a breath. The halberd might be allowed. That single sentence made the ember inside her chest brighten a fraction. But today was different. She must not send the ember straight to the tip of the weapon. First came the vessel. “I will put it in the vessel.”

Hwarin’s hands paused. “That is a good way to put it.”

“I will hold the halberd after I put it in the vessel.”

“Yes. That is exactly it.”

Seoryeong nodded, then stopped when her hair was pulled. “Yes.”

Hwarin suppressed a laugh and finished tying the ribbon.

The dining hall was as frugal as ever. Rice. Seasoned vegetables. Tofu. Clear soup. No meat. Seoryeong looked at the table and drew a breath. No meat. Expected. Sadness present. But eating possible. She organized the thought inside herself that way.

Cheongmyeong watched Seoryeong’s expression from across the table. “You seem far steadier today.”

Seoryeong spoke while eating. “I expected it.”

Cheongmu said from beside her, “Then expect it every day.”

Seoryeong looked at him. “If I expect no meat every day, I will be sad.”

Cheongmu was momentarily speechless. Cheongmyeong could not hold back his laughter. Dogyeom gave Cheongmyeong a heavy look for laughing during the meal, yet the corner of his own mouth twitched. Hwarin quietly drank her soup. The atmosphere in the dining hall had shifted slightly. When Seoryeong first arrived at the Cheongseong Sect, the disciples had watched her from afar. Silver hair. Red eyes. Strange rumors that she had devoured the Black Snake Chamber. A dangerous child tied to the Eight Styles of the Blood Cloud. Now, inside the dining hall, some offered cautious greetings. They still did not approach closely, yet they no longer fled.

A young disciple passed by and gave an awkward cupped-fist salute. “Lady Seoryeong.”

Seoryeong set down her chopsticks and clasped her hands. “Yeah.”

Hwarin looked at her at once. Seoryeong blinked and corrected herself. “Yes.”

Hwarin closed her eyes. Dogyeom spoke quietly. “A simple nod is enough for a greeting.”

Seoryeong bowed her head to the young disciple again. The child, flustered, returned to his seat. Cheongmyeong murmured, “Still, you have improved a great deal.”

Seoryeong felt a small swell of pride. Etiquette was still difficult. But difficulty was no excuse to avoid it. She could learn.

After the meal, on the way to the training ground, the scent of medicinal herbs wafted strongly from the direction of the Medical Hall. Seoryeong turned her head. Yakdong of the Medicine King Valley, whom she had seen yesterday, was carrying a small bundle across the courtyard. When he saw her, he hesitated. He did not run, yet his shoulders stiffened. Seoryeong stopped as well. Hwarin watched quietly from the side.

Yakdong offered an awkward cupped-fist salute. “Ah, I was rude yesterday.”

Seoryeong looked at him. “Silver-haired monster?”

Yakdong’s face went pale again. “Th-that was not something I said. I only heard it outside…”

“I know.” Seoryeong’s reply was short.

Yakdong blinked. “Pardon?”

“It was not your words.”

Yakdong closed his mouth. Seoryeong thought for a moment. Rumors clung to the mouths of those who spoke them, yet the speakers did not always create them. That did not make them painless. So what should she do? Seoryeong still did not know. But she did not grow angry the way she had yesterday.

Yakdong spoke carefully. “Before Master Gwakno left, he said something. If you look at people through the lens of rumors, you will see the rumors before you see the person.”

Seoryeong listened. It sounded like a good saying. Gwakno had a way with strange words. Difficult, yet they sometimes lingered. “What do you see now?”

Yakdong looked flustered. “Pardon?”

“When you look at me.”

Yakdong studied Seoryeong. Silver hair. Red eyes. Small frame. Yet an oddly sharp presence. And empty hands without the halberd. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “You are still frightening.”

Seoryeong nodded. Honest. “But… less frightening than yesterday.”

“Why?”

“Because you spoke.”

Seoryeong tilted her head. Did speaking make someone less frightening? Cheongmyeong, listening from a distance, gave a small laugh. Hwarin smiled quietly. Yakdong quickly added, “I do not mean it strangely. The monster in the rumors does not seem like it would speak. But when you actually speak… I suppose it makes you seem more like a person.”

After saying it, Yakdong looked even more flustered. “I am sorry. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Is that also rude?”

Seoryeong thought. He had said she seemed like a person. She was originally a person. Still, his intention was not bad. A little clumsy, yet Yakdong seemed to be trying to see past the rumors. Seoryeong said, “It is fine. I am a person.”

Yakdong stared blankly, then bowed his head. “Yes.”

Cheongmu muttered very softly from behind. “It is strange that you have to prove it every time.”

Seoryeong heard him. He was right. It was strange. But there was nothing she could do about it now. The rumors had gone ahead, so she had to follow slowly behind. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with training. Sometimes with explanations that she had not chewed anyone up.

Yakdong adjusted his bundle. “I am descending the mountain today. About the medicine pouch…”

Hwarin said, “I am keeping it.”

Yakdong nodded, relieved. “You must not drink too much. Master Gwakno especially warned about that.”

Seoryeong asked, “Is it tasty?”

Yakdong hesitated. “It… probably will not taste good.”

Seoryeong’s interest faded a little. Hwarin suppressed a laugh. “Then there will be no need to drink much.”

Yakdong gave another cupped-fist salute and headed toward the Medical Hall. Seoryeong watched his retreating figure, then turned toward the training ground. Yakdong was still a little afraid of her. But he had said she was less frightening than yesterday. That was enough. A little less.

Lately Seoryeong often thought about those words. A little less dangerous. A little less frightening. A little better at stopping. A little better at hiding. Little by little.

Elder Ungak stood in the training ground. Today there were no cushions. There were stones. There were pillars. There was red thread. And in the center of the ground lay Seoryeong’s halberd.

Seoryeong’s eyes went straight to the weapon. Her feet tried to quicken. But she stopped. She let out a breath. The halberd was there. Good. She wanted to hold it. She placed that desire inside the vessel.

Elder Ungak watched her and spoke. “Pick it up.”

Seoryeong almost moved at once, then stopped again. Elder Ungak’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Why did you stop?”

“I was about to grab it too quickly.”

“And so?”

“I lowered my breath first.”

Elder Ungak’s gaze softened almost imperceptibly. “Good. Now pick it up.”

Seoryeong walked slowly toward the halberd. One step. Two steps. She stood before it. Before reaching out, she set her feet first. She lowered her breath. She did not seek the ember. She grasped the halberd.

The weight rose into her hand. Familiar yet strangely vivid. She had gone only one day without holding it, yet the sensation felt sharper. Her hand liked it. Her mind liked it. The ember inside seemed to brighten a little. Yet it did not leak out. Seoryeong felt it. Even holding the halberd, the ember did not race straight to the tip. It remained inside the vessel. Seoryeong let out a small breath.

Elder Ungak asked, “What did you feel?”

“It is good.”

Cheongmyeong, at the edge of the ground, suppressed a laugh. Elder Ungak asked again with a blank expression. “And besides that?”

Seoryeong thought. “The ember moved. But it did not come out.”

Hwarin’s gaze deepened. Elder Ungak nodded. “That is today’s training.”

“Not letting it out?”

“How to walk while holding the vessel.”

Seoryeong’s eyes widened slightly. Walking while holding the vessel. A good phrase. Elder Ungak pointed at the stones inside the circle. “The vessel you felt yesterday was the vessel while sitting still. Today you will learn how to move without breaking that vessel.”

Seoryeong looked at the circle. Stones. Narrow paths. The weight of the halberd. And the ember inside. Now it was not only feet, breath, and hands. She had to move while carrying the vessel that held the ember. Difficult. Yet her heart beat a little faster. It was a good kind of difficulty.

Elder Ungak spoke. “Rules. Do not swing the halberd. Do not step on the stones. Do not leave the circle. Do not seek the ember. If the ember moves, lower your breath. If the tip of the halberd trembles, stop.”

Seoryeong nodded. “Yes.”

“Begin.”

Seoryeong stepped into the circle. First step. The halberd’s weight shifted slightly toward her right hand. She adjusted her feet without pulling with her hand. Second step. The gaps between stones were narrow. The tip trembled slightly as it passed over a stone. Stop. Breathe. Again. Third step. The ember inside tried to move with the weight of the halberd. More precisely, Seoryeong wanted to send it toward the weapon. She noticed it at once. Curiosity. Kindling. Do not put it into the fire. Seoryeong lowered her breath. The ember stayed inside the vessel.

“Good,” came Elder Ungak’s voice.

Seoryeong did not answer. She did not speak during training. Instead, she placed her feet. One step. Another step. Moving while holding the halberd was slower than before. Yet the weight felt far clearer. Previously the halberd had tried to pull her hand along. That feeling still existed. But now there was an added caution—to keep the ember inside from shaking. Walking while holding the vessel. The words were exactly right. It felt as though she were carrying a bowl filled with water across a stony path. Walk too fast and it spills. Shrink too much and the body stiffens. It was not about removing the shaking, but about preventing overflow even when shaking occurred. Seoryeong walked that way.

It took a long time to complete one circuit. The disciples held their breath and watched. On the surface it looked like nothing special—just walking slowly with a halberd. Yet those watching closely could tell. Seoryeong’s focus was different from yesterday. She was no longer looking only at stones and weight. She was carrying something invisible inside and moving it one step at a time without letting it leak.

When the first circuit ended, sweat beaded on Seoryeong’s forehead. Elder Ungak asked, “How is it?”

After catching her breath a little, Seoryeong said, “The vessel is harder than the halberd.”

Elder Ungak nodded. “Knowing that is enough. Again.”

Praise was short. “Again” was long. The Cheongseong Sect’s training remained the same. Seoryeong walked again.

During the second circuit, Cheongmyeong and Cheongmu entered as distractions—not with words, but with presence. Cheongmyeong deliberately made footsteps from afar. Cheongmu stood outside the circle holding a wooden sword, appearing in Seoryeong’s line of sight before vanishing. They did not attack. Yet their presence was noticeable. Seoryeong felt their qi. Keep it or let it flow? Was it needed now? No. She let Cheongmyeong’s footsteps flow past. She let Cheongmu’s gaze flow past as well. She kept only enough awareness to notice if Cheongmu truly approached. She tried to feel that difference. It was not about erasing everything completely. It was not about clinging too tightly either. Keep things at a distance. Close enough to grasp if needed. That, too, resembled the vessel. Put everything inside and it overflows. Push everything outside and it empties. Hold only what is necessary.

Near the end of the second circuit, the halberd’s tip nearly brushed a stone. Seoryeong instinctively wanted to lift it. Doing so would shake the vessel. Instead, she shifted her feet half a step. The tip avoided the stone. Elder Ungak said, “Good.”

Seoryeong did not answer, yet inside she felt a small joy. Joy, too, was fire. She placed it inside the vessel.

The third training involved stopping before a pillar. Elder Ungak pointed at the pillar wrapped with red thread. “Today you will stop one inch before the thread without letting the ember reach the tip of the halberd.”

Seoryeong blinked. It was the opposite of yesterday. Yesterday the ember had leaked out a little. Today she would stop it from leaving. “Only the halberd?”

“Yes. Only the halberd stops. Keep the inside inside the vessel.”

Seoryeong stood before the pillar. The red thread was visible. Yesterday’s sensation returned. The moment the air between the tip and the thread had grown heavy. The scene where the thread had seemed to sink without being touched. It had been good. Dangerously good. She wanted to try it again. Seoryeong felt that desire. After feeling it, she contained it. She would not do it now. She grasped the halberd. Feet. Breath. Hands. Vessel. Whoosh. The halberd moved. One inch before the thread. Stop. This time the air did not press down. The thread did not move. Only the tip stopped. Seoryeong exhaled. Success? Elder Ungak said, “Good.” Success. Rather, the fact that nothing happened was success. A strange success. Before, causing something had been the great feat. Today, preventing anything from happening was the great feat. Seoryeong found it a little amusing. But she did not laugh. Laughing might cause shaking.

Second stop. A little closer. Wind reached the thread enough to make it tremble. Elder Ungak said, “Close.” Seoryeong nodded. Third. Too far. Caution born of regret. Fourth. Precise. Fifth. The tip was precise, yet the ember inside moved slightly toward the halberd. Seoryeong felt it at once and pulled it back. “I stopped.”

Elder Ungak asked, “Why?”

“The inside moved.”

“Well done. Lower your breath before trying again.”

Seoryeong lowered her breath. Vessel. Contain.

The morning training continued in that manner. On the surface it was very quiet. The halberd did not strike the pillar. The red thread was not pressed. The ember did not come out. Yet for Seoryeong it was a time as exhausting as battle. A fight without releasing anything. A fight without using the power she liked. A fight while holding the halberd yet refusing to send the ember to its tip.

When Elder Ungak finally ended the session, Seoryeong slowly lowered the halberd. Her hands trembled slightly. But they were not hot. Hwarin approached and checked her fingertips. “You are fine.”

Seoryeong nodded. “It did not come out.”

“Yes. It did not.”

“Success?”

Hwarin smiled. “Success.”

Seoryeong felt satisfied. Nothing had come out, yet it was still success. Such successes existed.

At lunch, Cheongmyeong could not hold back. “Today truly nothing happened, which makes it all the more impressive.”

Dogyeom nodded. “People usually obsess over showing something. Choosing not to show is harder.”

Seoryeong looked at him. “Dogyeom, you sound like Elder Ungak today.”

Cheongmyeong burst out laughing. Cheongmu also gave a small laugh. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠This time Dogyeom did not argue. He simply ate quietly. While eating, Seoryeong thought. Not showing. Hiding. Preventing something from coming out. That, too, was power.

In the afternoon, Yu Soha walked as far as the edge of the training ground. It was a short walk permitted by the physician. She still could not walk for long, yet today she had come outside the Medical Hall. When Seoryeong spotted her from the edge of the ground, her eyes brightened. “Yu Soha.”

Yu Soha was using a small staff instead of the railing. Hwarin said, “Do not run.”

Seoryeong stopped. “Yes.” Then she walked over.

Yu Soha smiled. “You are really holding back a lot today.”

“Today I walked while holding the vessel.”

Yu Soha tilted her head. “The vessel?”

Seoryeong tried to explain. The vessel that held the ember. Walking with the halberd without letting the inside overflow. Yet putting it into words was difficult. In the end Seoryeong said simply, “Without overflowing.”

Yu Soha thought for a moment, then smiled. “I think I understand a little.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Today I also felt as though I were walking while holding a vessel.”

Seoryeong looked at Yu Soha’s staff. Yu Soha spoke slowly. “Because my body is not what it used to be, every step makes the impatience inside me shake. The desire to recover quickly, the wish not to be a burden to anyone, the feeling that I must do something again—those things keep trying to overflow.”

Seoryeong listened quietly. “So today I walked slowly. Without overflowing.”

Seoryeong looked at her. It was truly similar. Seoryeong had walked while holding the ember. Yu Soha had walked while holding impatience. Both were vessels. “Yu Soha trained too.”

Yu Soha laughed. “Did I?”

“Yes. You did well.”

This time Yu Soha asked first. “Is that praise?”

Seoryeong nodded. “Praise.”

The two looked at each other and smiled. The smile was not large, yet it was warm. From a distance, Cheongmu watched the scene and said to Cheongmyeong, “Those two have strange conversations, yet they understand each other.”

Cheongmyeong nodded. “That is why it is pleasant to watch.”

Cheongmu did not answer. But he did not deny it either.

The afternoon training continued with light halberd-stopping drills. Elder Ungak said he would keep it short. “We will not do it for long today. If we do, you will want to test it again.”

Seoryeong nodded. “Yes.”

This session consisted of only three stops before the pillar. First. Precise. Second. A little far. Third. Precise. And it ended. Seoryeong wanted to continue. She truly wanted to continue. But Elder Ungak had said it was over. Seoryeong lowered the halberd. Her hands felt regret. Her mind felt regret. The ember also wanted to move a little more. But she placed it inside the vessel. Elder Ungak watched and spoke. “That is enough for today.”

“Yes.”

“You wanted to do more?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you not?”

“Because you said it was over.”

“That is also correct. Again.”

Seoryeong thought. Why had she not continued? She wanted to. She wanted to become more precise. She wanted to try keeping the ember from coming out even more. But if she did more, she would want to test it. She would want to try harder. That would be dangerous. “If I do more, I will want to see more.”

Elder Ungak slowly nodded. “Good.”

Seoryeong felt satisfied. It seemed like the greatest praise of the day.

As the sun began to set, Yakdong of the Medicine King Valley descended through the mountain gate. Before leaving, he saw Seoryeong again in front of the Medical Hall. His face was a little less stiff this time. “I…”

Seoryeong looked at him. “Yeah.”

Yakdong spoke carefully. “When I go down, I will tell them what I saw.”

“What you saw?”

“Yes. Not a silver-haired monster, but… um…”

Yakdong could not find the right words. Seoryeong waited. Waiting, too, was a fight. After a long hesitation, Yakdong said, “A frightening yet learning child.”

Seoryeong blinked. A frightening yet learning child. It was not a perfect phrase. The word “frightening” came first. But it was better than “monster.” And “learning child” was good. “That is fine.”

Yakdong’s face brightened a little. “Is it all right to say that?”

“Yes.”

Hwarin said from the side, “It is not a bad expression.”

Yakdong, relieved, gave a cupped-fist salute. “Then stay healthy.”

Seoryeong tried to return the salute, then awkwardly bowed her head instead. “Go well.”

Yakdong walked toward the mountain gate. The faint scent of herbs faded behind his small back. Seoryeong watched his retreating figure and thought. The rumors would spread again. But this time they might spread differently. Silver-haired monster. Child who chews people. Monster who stops an inch from the neck. Among those words, a very small new phrase would now be mixed in. A frightening yet learning child. A little strange, yet acceptable. A little less bad.

Even after Yakdong disappeared through the gate, Seoryeong stood there for a while. The path leading to the gate was long and gentle. Following the trail between the trees, Yakdong’s small back grew farther away. He looked back several times. The first time it seemed as though he was checking whether Seoryeong was following. The second time it seemed he truly wanted to say goodbye again. The third time he looked like someone trying not to forget what he had seen. Seoryeong did not avoid that gaze. She simply stood. Her hands were empty. The halberd was in the training ground. Yet the weight of the halberd she had held that morning still remained in her palms. The sensation of something absent yet still present in the hand. That sensation was similar to what Yu Soha had said about the manual. Something that remained inside even after being set down. Remembering it without wielding it. Seoryeong stood until Yakdong was completely out of sight, then slowly turned around. Hwarin had waited beside her the whole time. “What are you thinking?”

Seoryeong answered a little late. “Rumors.”

“You think they will spread again once Yakdong goes down?”

“Yes.”

“Are you afraid?”

Seoryeong thought for a moment. Was she afraid? Rumors did not stab like a blade. They did not spread through the body like poison. But they traveled far. They went ahead of her. And before she even arrived, they changed people’s eyes. She disliked that a little. It was a little tiring, a little stifling. Yet it was not the same feeling as before, when she had wanted to destroy everything. “More bothersome than frightening.”

Hwarin gave a small laugh. “That expression fits as well. In the martial world, few things are as bothersome as rumors.”

“Can I not cut them?”

“You cannot.”

“Press them down?”

Hwarin looked at Seoryeong. Seoryeong’s expression was quite serious—as though she were considering whether she could press down rumors with the weight of her ember. Hwarin let out a sigh-tinged laugh. “Rumors are neither swords nor bodies. They are not something your power can press down.”

“Then what do I do?”

“You must slowly build different words.”

“Different words?”

“Yes. Yakdong said he would tell them what he saw. If such words accumulate one by one, even the original rumors will change little by little.”

Seoryeong looked toward the mountain gate again. Yakdong would speak. A frightening yet learning child. How far that phrase would travel, she did not know. It might be buried under other strange rumors. Someone might twist it into something stranger. A frightening yet learning child might become a monster that grows more frightening while learning. Thinking that made everything feel complicated again. Seoryeong furrowed her brow. “Words keep changing.”

“Yes.”

“Then it is useless.”

“We cannot stop them completely. But it is better than leaving no words at all.”

Hwarin kept her gaze on the mountain gate. “And in the end, what remains longest is how you continue to act. It is not over just because you corrected one rumor today. Tomorrow, the day after, and the days after that—if you keep learning, stopping, and protecting, people will eventually see it.”

Seoryeong listened quietly. Tomorrow. The day after. The days after that. It was similar to martial training. Stopping the halberd once did not end anything. Hiding the ember once did not end anything either. She had to keep doing it. So was fighting rumors also repetition? Like daily footwork. Like daily breathing. Like daily etiquette. Seoryeong nodded. “Then I just have to keep going?”

Hwarin smiled. “Yes. You just have to keep going.”

The words were simple, yet they pleased her. It was the kind of phrase Seoryeong liked. Words that made complicated things simple. Just keep going. Just learn. Just put it in the vessel. Of course, in reality it was difficult. But the path was visible. Seoryeong walked back toward the training ground.

At that moment, Cheongmu was waiting near the entrance. He had his wooden sword slung over his shoulder, yet his face was not the usual one that sought an argument. He looked rather awkward. Seoryeong looked at him. “Why are you here?”

Cheongmu seemed momentarily at a loss for words. “Because it is the training ground.”

“You are not training.”

“I was going to.”

“But you are not.”

Cheongmu pressed his lips together. Hwarin glanced between them, then quietly stepped back. She did not go far, yet she left enough distance for the two to talk. Cheongmu noticed and looked even more uncomfortable. “I heard what Yakdong of the Medicine King Valley said earlier.”

“A frightening yet learning child?”

“Yes.”

“He said it was fine.”

“Who did?”

“Me.”

Cheongmu looked at Seoryeong for a moment. Then he lightly scratched the ground with the tip of his wooden sword. “You sometimes accept things strangely quickly.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Half of it.”

Seoryeong nodded. “Then I am half grateful.”

Cheongmu gave a very small laugh. It was similar to what he had said to Hwarin, yet he did not know that. After a moment of silence, he spoke. “I am still a little afraid of you.”

Seoryeong looked at him after hearing those words. Cheongmu did not avoid her gaze. Before, he would never have said such a thing out of pride. But now Cheongmu had spoken. Seoryeong felt that fact first. He spoke. Honestly. That was not bad. “Why?”

“Because you are strong.”

“Cheongmu is strong too.”

“Do not say that.”

Cheongmu looked down at his wooden sword. “It is not because you are stronger than me that I am afraid. Of course that part is unpleasant as well.”

Seoryeong tilted her head. “Then?”

“I am afraid because I do not know how far you will go.”

The words fell quietly onto the training ground floor. Seoryeong could not answer immediately. How far she would go—she did not know that either. She did not know how far the ember at the tip of the halberd would grow. She did not know what that nameless power would become later. She did not know what name the martial world would give her. Disaster. Monster. Learning child. She did not know which it would be. Cheongmu continued. “But lately it is a little less frightening.”

Seoryeong looked at him quietly. “Why?”

“Because you stop.”

Cheongmu’s voice was low. “You stopped when you defeated me at the Cheongmu Stage. You stopped during the protection test. You did not act yesterday. And today you kept it from coming out.”

Seoryeong nodded. “Yes.”

“If that continues, it might become even less frightening.”

Seoryeong mulled over the words. If it continues. Hwarin had said something similar. Just keep going. Rumors, people’s gazes, Cheongmu’s fear—none of them changed with a single instance. But if she kept going, they changed little by little. A little less. “Then I will keep stopping.”

Cheongmu spoke at once. “I do not mean you should only keep stopping.”

“Why?”

“When we spar, do it properly.”

Seoryeong’s eyes brightened. “Will we spar again?”

Cheongmu cleared his throat. “Later. When I am more prepared.”

“I will wait.”

“Do not expect too much.”

“I am looking forward to it.”

Cheongmu eventually turned his head. The tips of his ears had turned slightly red. Seoryeong saw it. Was he angry? It did not seem so. Was he embarrassed? Probably. People were difficult. Not as difficult as rumors, yet still difficult. Still, Cheongmu was a little less difficult than before.

From inside the training ground, Cheongmyeong watched the two from a distance. He spoke to Dogyeom in a small voice. “Even Cheongmu has changed a great deal.”

Dogyeom answered calmly. “It is not only Seoryeong who is learning.”

“Pardon?”

“Those who watch from the side also learn.”

Cheongmyeong thought for a moment, then nodded. “That also sounds like something Elder Ungak would say.”

Dogyeom looked at Cheongmyeong this time. “You keep saying things like that, so now I am conscious of it as well.”

Cheongmyeong suppressed a laugh.

Before the sun fully set that day, Elder Ungak called Seoryeong again. Formal training had ended, yet he said he would conduct one short confirmation. A small wooden cup had been placed in the training ground. It was half filled with water. Seoryeong looked at it and tilted her head. “Drink it?”

Elder Ungak’s eyebrow moved slightly. “No.”

“Then?”

“Carry it and walk.”

Seoryeong looked at the wooden cup. Vessel. This time it was a real vessel. Elder Ungak said, “Hold the halberd as well, and this cup as well.”

Seoryeong’s eyes widened. “Both?”

“Yes.”

Hwarin looked at Elder Ungak, slightly surprised. “Elder, have we not already done enough today?”

“That is why we will keep it short. I want to leave a small mark on this child’s body of what she has understood today.”

Elder Ungak looked at Seoryeong. “Hold the cup in your left hand and the halberd in your right. Walk only ten steps between the stones. If the water overflows, it is failure. If the halberd’s tip trembles and touches a stone, it is failure. If you try to seek the ember, it is also failure.”

Seoryeong looked back and forth between the cup and the halberd. Difficult. Yet precise. Walking while holding the vessel. This was doing with an actual vessel what she had learned all day. Seoryeong picked up the wooden cup first. The water was half full. Light, yet it shook. Then she grasped the halberd with her right hand. The halberd was heavy. Left hand—light yet shaking. Right hand—heavy and long. Her body’s balance changed at once. Seoryeong lowered her breath. Elder Ungak said, “Begin.”

First step. The water trembled slightly. Seoryeong wanted to stop at once, yet if she stopped, the halberd’s tip might follow late and shake. So she did not stop; she only slowed down. Second step. The halberd’s tip shifted to the right. The water in the cup shook to the left. It felt as though her body had split in two. Vessel and weapon. Light water and heavy halberd. Left and right. Seoryeong lowered her breath. She did not try to force the two into one. She let each shake, yet prevented overflow. Third step. A stone was close. If she took a large step, the water would overflow. If she took a small step, the halberd’s tip would catch on the stone. Seoryeong twisted her foot half a step. The tip passed the stone. The water rippled but did not overflow. Fourth. Fifth. Breathe. Sixth. The halberd’s weight pulled at her wrist. The ember reacted slightly. It tried to go toward the halberd. Seoryeong felt it. But there was the water in her left hand. It must not overflow. The ember must not overflow either. The same. Vessel and mind were the same. Seoryeong did not seek the ember, did not look at the water, and looked at her feet. Seventh. Eighth. Ninth. The final tenth step. Seoryeong stopped. The halberd’s tip had not touched a stone. The water had not overflowed. Only a small ripple still circled inside the cup. Seoryeong waited until that ripple settled. Only then did she look at Elder Ungak. “Finished?”

Elder Ungak stared at the cup for a long time. The water had not overflowed. The halberd was steady. “It is finished.”

Seoryeong let out a breath. Only then did her entire body feel tired. It had been only ten short steps. Yet it had been as difficult as the morning training. Elder Ungak spoke. “Remember. What you are handling is not only the halberd.”

Seoryeong looked at the cup. “The vessel as well.”

“Yes. The vessel as well.”

Hwarin smiled quietly. Cheongmyeong gave a small exclamation of admiration. Cheongmu, arms crossed, looked away—yet the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Dogyeom spoke calmly. “Today’s training will remain in memory for a long time.”

Seoryeong looked at the water inside the cup. The small ripple had completely settled. Seeing that made the ember inside her chest seem a little quieter as well. Fire and water were different. Yet the point of containing them without overflow was similar. Seoryeong wanted to remember that sensation for a long time.

Elder Ungak took the cup. “Today is truly over.”

“Yes.”

“And if you do not continue even though you want to do more today, that will be today’s final training.”

Seoryeong looked at the halberd. She wanted to do more. She wanted to walk once more while holding the cup. This time she felt she could do it more steadily. Yet that very desire was dangerous. The moment she felt it was all right, she would try to test it again. Seoryeong lowered the halberd. “I will not.”

Elder Ungak nodded. “Well done.”

Those words were as heavy as a stone placed at the end of the day. Seoryeong quietly placed that praise inside the vessel.

Even after Elder Ungak left, Seoryeong stood in the center of the training ground. Although training had ended, her feet did not easily leave. The ground still bore traces of where she had stepped. Slightly pressed earth between the stones. The narrow empty space where the halberd’s tip had passed without touching. The memory of the moment the water in the wooden cup had rippled. And the sensation of lowering her breath on the final tenth step. All of it seemed to remain on the training ground floor.

Seoryeong looked down at her empty hands. Until a moment ago, her left hand had held a water vessel and her right hand the halberd. Light and heavy. Shaking and pulling. Something trying to overflow and something trying to extend. Carrying both at once strangely resembled the inside of herself. The ember was not water, yet it had to be contained without overflowing. The halberd was not a vessel, yet it must not shake carelessly. The mind could not be held in the hand, yet it shook more easily than anything she held. Seoryeong slowly exhaled.

From the edge of the training ground, Cheongmyeong approached carefully. “Lady Seoryeong.”

Seoryeong turned her head. “Yeah.”

Cheongmyeong glanced at Dogyeom. Dogyeom said nothing. It was not mealtime, and training had ended, so it was all right. Cheongmyeong looked somewhat relieved. “Earlier, when you were walking with the water cup, I really could not breathe while watching.”

“Cheongmyeong breathed.”

“Pardon?”

“You breathed a little. I heard it.”

Cheongmyeong opened his mouth, then closed it. “You heard that?”

“Yes.”

“Even in that situation?”

Seoryeong nodded. Cheongmyeong laughed as though it were absurd. “Your senses are truly unbelievable.”

“I let it flow.”

“Pardon?”

“I heard it, but I let it flow. Because it was not needed.”

Cheongmyeong fell silent for a moment after hearing those words. His face, which had been about to laugh, soon grew a little serious. “Then you heard it but did not pay attention?”

“Yes.”

“Is that possible?”

Seoryeong thought for a moment. Was it possible? It was not yet completely possible. She had let Cheongmyeong’s breath flow, yet the smell of meat would be difficult. If someone spoke ill of Hwarin, it would be even harder. If a strong person approached holding a weapon, it would be far harder. So saying it was possible would be a lie. “A little.”

Cheongmyeong nodded. “Little by little, then.”

“Yes.”

Seoryeong had come to like those words lately. Little by little. The words were slow, yet not bad. It had been the same when she carved wooden spears in the village. They had not become spears from the beginning. Blisters had formed on her hands. The wood had bent. The tip had been carved strangely. She had trimmed it again, held it again, swung it again. Little by little, it had become a spear. Was she the same now? It was still difficult to call herself a martial artist. She was not a Cheongseong disciple. She had no named energy. She did not have a proper halberd. Yet she was becoming something little by little. She did not yet know what. That unknown point was a little frustrating, and a little good.

Cheongmu approached from the side. “Senior Brother Cheongmyeong, do not admire her too much. She will become conceited again.”

Seoryeong looked at Cheongmu. “Conceited?”

Cheongmyeong immediately explained. “It means thinking you are great and raising your shoulders.”

Seoryeong looked down at her own shoulders. “They did not go up.”

Cheongmu was at a loss for words. Cheongmyeong lowered his head and laughed. From a distance, Dogyeom spoke quietly. “It is a metaphor.”

Seoryeong nodded. “Metaphors are difficult too.”

Hwarin approached and said, “Still, today you accomplished difficult training rather than a difficult metaphor.”

Seoryeong’s eyes brightened a little. Hwarin spoke first. “That was praise.”

Seoryeong nodded, satisfied. Cheongmu looked at her and spoke as though tossing the words out. “But it really is strange.”

“What is?”

“You have become stronger, yet today you showed nothing.”

Seoryeong looked at Cheongmu. Cheongmu tapped the hilt of his wooden sword with his fingers as though choosing his words. “Before, I thought becoming stronger meant striking faster, blocking harder, and pushing farther. But today you…” He paused for a moment. “You did less, yet you looked stronger.”

A brief silence fell over the training ground. Cheongmyeong did not laugh. Dogyeom also watched Cheongmu without speaking. Hwarin smiled very faintly. Seoryeong mulled over Cheongmu’s words. Did less, yet looked stronger. That was strange even to her. She had not swung the halberd greatly. She had not sent the ember outside. She had not pressed the red thread. She had not made the pillar ring. Yet Cheongmu had said she looked stronger. “Why?” Seoryeong asked.

Cheongmu could not answer immediately. Only after a long while did he speak. “I do not know. It just… seemed as though you were holding onto your own power.”

“I did not hold it. I contained it.”

“Is that not the same?”

“It is different.”

Seoryeong looked at her own hand. “If you hold it, strength goes into the hand. If you contain it, you need a vessel.”

Cheongmu blinked. Cheongmyeong spoke with admiration. “Oh.” Dogyeom nodded. “A good distinction.”

Cheongmu stared blankly for a moment, then spoke brusquely for no reason. “Lately your words sometimes sound like the elders.”

Seoryeong looked slightly surprised. “Do I sound like Dogyeom too?”

Cheongmyeong finally burst out laughing. Dogyeom closed his eyes this time. Hwarin covered her mouth with her hand. Cheongmu, flustered, said, “No, that is not what I meant…”

Seoryeong spoke seriously. “Dogyeom speaks difficultly.”

Dogyeom opened his eyes and looked at Seoryeong. “I only say what is necessary.”

“Necessary words are difficult.”

Cheongmyeong almost collapsed from laughing. The air in the training ground lightened for a moment. Yet even within that lightness, Seoryeong was feeling inside her chest. Was laughter also fire? Probably a little. When she was happy, her mind rose upward. If joy overflowed, her hands could become light and her feet hasty. So she contained this as well. Seoryeong lowered her breath slightly. Hwarin saw that sight. A child who lowered her breath even while laughing. A child who, after receiving praise or teasing or feeling joy, still checked inside herself. That might have been the greatest change of the day.

Before leaving the training ground, Elder Ungak called Seoryeong once more. He spoke very briefly. “Tell me what you learned today.”

Seoryeong did not answer immediately. There had been much to learn throughout the day. How to hold the halberd again. How to keep the ember from coming out. How to walk between stones while holding the vessel. That not showing was also success. That rumors did not change with a single instance. That even Cheongmu could become a little less frightened. That overflowing the water cup was failure. All of it was important. Which should she speak? Seoryeong thought for a long time, then said, “Power is not only in the hands.”

Elder Ungak’s gaze moved slightly. “Continue.”

“What is inside is also power. But just because it is inside does not mean it is all good. If it overflows, it is dangerous.”

“Therefore?”

“A vessel is needed.”

Elder Ungak looked at Seoryeong without speaking. Seoryeong continued. “When I hold the halberd, my hand likes it. The ember moves as well. But I must not send it out right away. I must contain it in the vessel and walk.”

Hwarin listened quietly. Cheongmyeong and Cheongmu also watched Seoryeong without speaking. Dogyeom’s expression was as calm as usual, yet his gaze had deepened slightly. Seoryeong spoke her final words. “And when I want to do more, I must stop. If I do more, I will want to see more.”

Elder Ungak slowly nodded. “Today’s learning is sufficient.”

Seoryeong felt a small warmth inside her chest at those words. She placed that warmth inside the vessel as well. Before, she might have laughed at once or said she wanted to do more. Today she simply bowed her head. “Yes.”

Elder Ungak stepped back and said, “From tomorrow, we will gradually increase the movements again. However, if you forget what you learned today, I will make you put down the halberd once more.”

Seoryeong’s face immediately grew serious. “I will not forget.”

“Good.”

After Elder Ungak left, Seoryeong carefully picked up the halberd and hung it on the weapon rack. She adjusted the angle so the tip would not touch the wall and straightened the blue cord with her hand so it would not catch. The motion was far more careful than before. Cheongmu, watching from the side, spoke. “It is different from when you first received that halberd.”

“What is?”

“Back then your face looked like you wanted to swing it right away. Now it is…” He paused while searching for the expression, then shrugged. “A face that cherishes it.”

Seoryeong looked at the halberd. Cherish. That seemed right. The more she liked something, the more careful she had to be. Being careful did not mean she did not like it. Rather, it was because she liked it. Seoryeong straightened the blue cord on the halberd once more. “Yes. I cherish it.”

Cheongmu fell silent for a moment after hearing that answer. Then he said, “Do weapons resemble their owners?”

Seoryeong turned her head. “Does the halberd resemble me?”

“I do not know yet.”

“Later?”

Cheongmu slung his wooden sword over his shoulder. “We will see later.”

Seoryeong liked those words. Later. Sparring with Cheongmu was also later. Whether the halberd would resemble her was also later. What the ember would become was also later. The word “later” was frustrating, yet lately it had become a little more bearable. To reach later, she had to pass through today. Today she had walked while holding the vessel. Then tomorrow she might be able to walk a little more.

There was no meat at dinner either. But Seoryeong did not think much of it today. She had spent the entire day walking while holding the vessel. Even while eating, her hands remembered the halberd. Yet the ember was quiet. It was inside the vessel.

After returning to the annex, Seoryeong stood the halberd in one corner of the room. Today had been a day she was allowed to hold it. But since training had ended, she did not hold it anymore. Instead, she sat in front of the halberd. It was the same training as yesterday— not holding it. But today the feeling was a little ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠different. Yesterday it had felt like enduring the desire to hold it. Today it felt like setting down the weight she had held. Slowly returning the weight that remained in her hands. The halberd belonged in the halberd’s place. The ember belonged inside the vessel.

Seoryeong held the broken spear tip in her hand. “Today I held it.”

The spear tip did not answer.

“But it did not come out.”

Those words carried a small pride. It felt as though she were speaking to the original spear. I held the halberd. But I did not swing it carelessly. The ember did not leak out either. Today I walked while holding the vessel.

Hwarin heard those words from outside the door. She did not enter. Seoryeong was organizing her day in her own way.

Night deepened. Seoryeong lay down. She lowered her breath. Hwarin’s presence was in the next room. The halberd’s position could also be felt. The ebony wood and broken spear tip could also be felt. The ember was inside. Today she did not try to find it. She simply knew it was there.

And a dream came.

A red battlefield. This time there were paths on the battlefield. Three paths were drawn on the earth. A straight path. A curved path. A broken path. And in Seoryeong’s hands was a small vessel. Inside the vessel was the ember. She held neither halberd nor spear. The weapons were far away. The vessel was in both hands. Seoryeong looked at the straight path. It was fast. Yet if it shook, it seemed the contents would overflow. The broken path could be jumped over. Yet the moment she jumped, the ember seemed likely to spill. The curved path was slow. Yet she could see her surroundings. Seoryeong walked the curved path. One step. Another step. The ember shook. Yet it did not overflow.

In the middle of the path, a shadow holding a sword appeared. Blue sword qi gathered on that sword. Seoryeong held no weapon. The shadow raised its sword and blocked the path. Seoryeong wanted to throw the ember. The dream-version of herself knew that the ember could suppress the sword qi. But today was the day of walking while holding the vessel. Seoryeong did not send the ember toward the sword qi. Instead, she looked at the side path. The curved path took a little longer, yet it was not blocked. Seoryeong walked that way. The shadow holding the sword could not cut her. Because Seoryeong had not stood before that sword. This time she did not press. She avoided. No—she chose the path.

At the end of the battlefield, a door became visible. It was a little clearer than before. Inside the gap of the door was the shadow of a massive halberd. And along the blade of that halberd flowed a red weight. Seoryeong wanted to go to that door. But she still held the vessel in her hands. To open the door, she needed her hands. Should she set down the vessel? No. Not yet. Seoryeong sat before the door. Holding the vessel with both hands, she lowered her breath so the ember would not shake. Then the door opened just a little—truly just a little more. She had not pushed with force. She had not thrown the ember. She had simply arrived while holding it without overflowing. Yet the door had opened.

In the dream, someone spoke. Only if the vessel does not break can fire also become a weapon. Seoryeong heard those words. She could not tell whose voice it was. It sounded like Elder Ungak, like Hwarin, and like someone from a very distant battlefield. Seoryeong looked at the ember inside the vessel. The ember was burning quietly. It neither grew, nor went out, nor overflowed. Seoryeong opened her eyes. It was before dawn. The room was quiet. The halberd stood in one corner. Seoryeong raised her hand. The sensation of the vessel from the dream remained in her palm. And inside her chest was the ember. Today it was a little more stable than yesterday. Seoryeong slowly exhaled. The way to walk while holding the vessel. It was still difficult. Yet she had been able to hold the halberd without losing the ember and without letting it overflow. That alone was enough. Tomorrow would be different again. Perhaps a more difficult path would come. It might be a straight path, a broken path, or a path blocked by someone. But what she had learned today was one thing. A person who holds an ember must first learn how to walk without overflowing, rather than how to walk quickly. Seoryeong held that thought and closed her eyes again. The halberd in the room was quiet. The ember was quiet as well. And that quietness felt a little stronger today.