The Illusion of Invincibility
"Rather than debating martial arts with words all day, it would be better to settle things with the sword. Endless talk is nothing but empty theory." The man's displeasure was plain on his face.
I replied, "That depends on the person. I am dull by nature and full of doubts. I cannot grasp anything at once and must always examine the context. Since you claim you do not wish to torment or kill me but only to pursue martial arts together, why should you refuse to respect my way?"
The man was about to retort when I added one more line. "If you indulge my conversation, I will make sure none of the people here die or lose their martial arts in vain."
"Hmph. Enlightenment lies on the boundary between life and death. Showing mercy for no reason will only push it further away."
"Are you certain everyone here feels the same?"
The man glanced over his shoulder. Every single one of those countless figures was a master of the first rank. If any of them harbored ill intent and drew their blades, lives would be lost before enlightenment could be reached. He clicked his tongue once, then met my eyes again.
"...Very well. Let us hear what you have to say."
"First, what is your name?"
"Ah, I have not introduced myself yet. I am Sama Geon, Lord of Wugeuk Castle."
He gave his name with a hint of embarrassment. I nodded and asked, "Good. You said earlier that you seek the ultimate martial art."
"I did."
"And you also said the ultimate martial art is the realm of solitary supremacy, where none can stand against you."
"I did."
"However, I cannot believe such a realm exists."
Sama Geon's brow furrowed deeply. "Why?"
"Because martial arts are a method, not power itself. Do you always believe the victor possesses superior martial arts while the defeated is inferior?"
Sama Geon snorted, his expression easing. "Are you about to lecture me on how battles are not decided solely by accumulated inner energy? I know that well. Yet the martial art I speak of includes that as well."
"In what way?"
"Mind and energy are merely tools and components. Important ones, certainly, but a fight is not composed of mind and energy alone. The fortune of the day, the information each side possesses, and countless other tools and components exist in battle. The wit to deploy those tools and components in the right places, and even to prepare them in advance, is also crucial."
"That is quite true," I conceded. Sama Geon continued.
"The martial art I speak of encompasses all of that. It is the pursuit of combat itself to its highest point, ultimately reaching a state where there is no defeat, no worthy opponent, and victory comes as one wills. That is the extreme of the martial art I chase."
"But can that truly be called a realm?"
Sama Geon's face twisted again. I pressed on. "Suppose some great calamity wiped out every martial artist in the world. Or simply that every person died, leaving only you, the Lord. Then indeed there would be no defeat and no enemies. Is that a realm? It is merely a state."
"You spin sophistry with absurd hypotheticals. Are you from the orthodox sects?"
"Then let me speak more realistically. Could you survive if a thunderbolt bomb exploded in your robes?"
He could not. Unless his stomach were plated in iron, it was impossible. Even if he expelled protective energy with a single burst of will, he could only barely stop a spear or sword swung without proper force. How could he stop thin iron fragments flying faster than sound?
Sama Geon answered, "Allowing a thunderbolt bomb to explode in one's robes is a failure of martial arts."
"Then what if someone possesses the skill of Gongshu Ban and can craft thunderbolt bombs the size of beans? If a person bearing a grudge against you happened to obtain such a device and hid it in your food or bedding, would that not mean his martial arts surpass yours?"
"That is another ridiculous assumption."
"You understand the point, do you not?" I continued. "Truly, reaching a certain realm is a matter of principle, yet the success or failure of an endeavor is a matter of energy. The two are mysteriously connected yet not directly linked. What meaning is there, then, in discussing martial realms while ignoring energy?"
"So you are saying that whether one wins or loses, only the realm matters? Then what value does that realm even hold?" Sama Geon growled.
I answered, "Victory and defeat are merely results. Superiority and inferiority do not truly exist. There are only questions, answers, and understanding."
"That sounds like something a monk would say. Still, no matter what you claim, I have already reached this level by pursuing victory. Does my very existence not prove your words are meaningless?"
"Finding a shortcut to defeat the person before you does not constitute reaching a realm, Lord."
His martial arts fit him like well-tailored clothing, suggesting he had created them himself. If so, Sama Geon was truly a genius of instinct. His weapon, his muscles, the meteor hammer in his hand, the hidden weapons in his robes, even the way he planted his feet—nothing was inefficient. It was as though he already knew the answer and solved the problem accordingly, never even considering parts that would go unused, passing only through what was necessary, sometimes bypassing even that with shortcuts. He built not a mountain but a slender tower, gathering only what was needed for combat, while meticulously studying grappling and relentlessly exploiting the habitual flaws most martial arts possessed. No wonder most martial artists of the Central Plains found fighting him difficult.
One could generously call it practical. Yet I was, after all, a stubborn old man who had lived for centuries, and I could not bring myself to view it favorably. The words slipped out: "That is nothing more than petty tricks."
Sama Geon chuckled. "Prove it with skill, then."
"I intend to."
The Martial Emperor leapt lightly from the platform. I walked slowly up onto it. Turning my head, I saw the entire cavern. Every gaze was fixed on me without exception. I closed my eyes and slowly drew my sword. After one deep breath, I opened them—and met Baek's eyes. It happened at a most coincidental moment. But it was not anyone else; it was Yu Baek. There would be no trouble.
"How many?" Sama Geon asked.
I paused briefly before answering. "Five hundred and ninety-nine."
A single burst of laughter shook the cavern like thunder. Sama Geon laughed; the rest remained silent. When his laughter ceased, a scorching stillness filled the space. Five hundred and ninety-eight pairs of blazing eyes glared at me. At first it would have been bewilderment, then excitement—rage at being underestimated, the fighting spirit that vowed to teach me a lesson.
"Impossible."
"We shall see."
Sama Geon shrugged. It was an invitation to try if I dared. He had reason to think so. There had been cases of one person defeating six hundred. If, among six hundred, only ten were willing to stake their lives, then once those ten fell the remaining five hundred and ninety would flee. One person killing six hundred was not impossible either. Numerical superiority only mattered upon contact; an excess of numbers merely created more weaknesses. A single lion that knew this well could strike and retreat, fighting hundreds of times to bring down a flock of six hundred sheep. It would take time, but it was possible.
Yet there were no cowards among these people. Their eyes alone made that clear. They were all warriors who could throw their lives away. Even an ordinary villager, resolved to die, could make a master wary. None here would be useless. Moreover, I had no place to retreat. I had stepped onto the platform declaring a martial contest; how could I back away now? The open platform offered no wall at my back. I could not escape the situation of being surrounded on all sides.
At a glance, what I had to do was neither defeat six hundred nor kill six hundred, but fight and overcome six hundred at once. How could that be possible? Therefore, he must have believed I was looking down on his people. He probably thought that once I felled a few, the rest would retreat in fear, or that six hundred charging together would only trip over one another while I bluffed.
I asked, "I have a question for you, Lord."
"What is it?"
"In all your years of training martial arts, how many times have you experienced an inner demon?"
When one realizes through some trigger that what one has achieved or understood is wrong, a phenomenon called an inner demon, or sometimes deviation into madness, occurs. In that instant when certainty vanishes, technique loses its edge and inner energy melts away like spring snow. If it stems from mere delusion, one can simply shake it off. But what of an inner demon born from confronting truth?
Including martial arts, a person's life rarely begins by finding the correct answer. One overflows with confidence, believing the knowledge that works inside a well applies to all the principles of the world, only to crumble upon encountering a wider world. Such occurrences are quite common. Once one crumbles, rebuilding is far more arduous than before. Knowing one was already wrong, one cannot hold convenient beliefs and must wander in search of a true answer that transcends contradiction. The process is truly painful, yet it cannot be avoided forever. Eventually one must confront and break through it. At least, that was how it had been for me.
But what of the man before me? In my judgment, Sama Geon was a genius. A truly extraordinary one. Even at the branching points among a hundred paths, he would decide his direction without hesitation the moment he stood there, and even if that path was not the answer, he would make it so. As expected, Sama Geon smiled and answered.
"None. I have never doubted myself in my entire life. That is my pride."
It seemed so. I felt truly envious. Some people struggle like children trying to force understanding, yet reach that place in a single leap because their instincts are good. Others go even further, claiming both this and that are correct, and somehow it works. Meanwhile, I had suffered nine hundred and ninety-nine inner demons and rebuilt a thousand times over.
Carrying a trace of that envy, I slowly lowered the sword tip that had drawn the gazes of five hundred and ninety-nine people. Even I had no confidence in defeating six hundred in combat. Yet in this place there were not six hundred enemies and one of me. There was only one master and the rest who were not. For a master to teach the unskilled was only natural.