Breath of the Wild Land
Months had already passed since Hong-wi slipped into hiding in the land of the wild tribes.
By the solar calendar, the deepest bite of winter cold—Sohan, the Lesser Cold—had only just passed, and Daehan, the Greater Cold, would soon arrive. A razor-sharp wind, steeped in the chill of the far north, came sweeping down and wrapped itself around the desolate land. On days like these, even the born-and-bred locals curled up inside their homes and refused to come out.
It was on precisely such a day that Hong-wi stood atop a hill.
Silently, he gazed down at the bleak yet boundless plain spread before him. How different this land was from the Korean soil to the south—bleak, yes, but rolling and vast! Over the past few months, Hong-wi had tried, again and again, to overlay the scenery of his homeland upon it, though the effort was a futile one. Golden grain ripening across the countryside, a farmer leading a yellow ox hauling a plow, smoke drifting up from thatched roofs through the pine branches, mountains and fields dense with evergreens... But this land seemed rooted in something entirely different from Joseon.
"Ho-in."
"Yes, my lord."
Ho-in answered at once. Hong-wi had given him a strict order: he was to address him as "my lord" not only in the presence of others, but even when the two of them were alone. The reasoning was that a slip of the tongue at a decisive moment could prove fatal—yet Ho-in had refused, saying he simply could not bring himself to do that one thing.
"How does this land strike you? Compared to ours."
At the question, Ho-in narrowed his eyes. "Compared to my homeland... it is very different. Bleak, and desolate. It almost seems to reject a stranger with its whole body."
"Hmm."
Muddy rivers and marshes wound their way through untouched forests, tangled with brush and boulder-strewn wasteland. Where the Korean landscape felt soft and welcoming, this land wore an air of primal roughness, a wildness from the beginning of time that refused the touch of human hands.
"When I look out over this vast land, I feel crushed by its endless breadth. Truly, the first time I saw it, the sight stole the very breath from my lungs—and it is so open, so boundless," Ho-in said.
Hong-wi had felt something similar at first.
"But it is different now. How should I put it... it no longer feels vast and empty. This land has a rough vitality to it."
"Yes! So you felt it too. Exactly right. You can feel it from the very air you breathe."
Hong-wi drew the cold, dry air deep into his lungs. "Look here. This land is as strange to you as it is to me, no doubt of that. And yet doesn't it stir something familiar? As though it were quenching a thirst that had slumbered in my chest all along. Yes—the air here is wild, and yet sweet and beguiling. And it is not only the air. This place... truly, it is savage and captivating at once. It makes me want to gallop until I drop!"
Hong-wi squared his shoulders and looked around. "Had I remained in my Joseon, I would never have known a thrill like this."
How bitterly ironic fate could be! Fate had stripped him of his throne and cast him down to the estate of a mere fugitive—and yet, precisely because of that, it was granting him fresh sensations he could never have known within the palace walls.
"And yet there is something strange, my lord."
"What is it?"
"Though it is a land I have never seen before, it feels familiar."
"You're right—I felt much the same."
Hong-wi nodded in agreement. "A land I've never set foot on, and yet it feels like somewhere I know. Like walking through a place I had forgotten for a very long time. Wasn't there something called reincarnation in Buddhism?"
"So I have heard."
"Yes, well—supposing there is such a thing as a former life."
A distant, wistful look crept over Hong-wi's face. "Mm... lately I keep having the same dream at night. A strange dream. Haunting, somehow."
"What kind of dream?"
"Hm. When I try to put it into words, nothing quite settles—it only leaves a vague impression. As best as I can recall: hundreds, no, thousands of warriors in black armor come thundering across this plain. I am riding among them, galloping alongside. I don't know where we are going. We simply... ride on, without end."
Hong-wi looked up at the far-off sky. "If only that were all there were to it—what a magnificent thing it would be."
Ho-in smiled faintly. "Are you not riding at my side even now, my lord?"
"Well, I suppose I am."
Hong-wi laughed, bright and clear—a smile like sunshine, the first Ho-in had seen from him since they left Yeongwol. Something in Ho-in's chest swelled without reason. Over the months of traveling together, he had already fallen deep under Hong-wi's spell, and he had resolved to follow the man wherever he might go. Even to the lowest of hells, he would gladly follow.
"Well then—shall we ride again?"
Hong-wi urged his horse down the slope of the hill, and Ho-in followed. By now his horsemanship had grown to the point that even a capable instructor of the royal guard would have had to tip his hat. All of it was thanks to Cha Gyeong-yeon's ruthless special training.
Cha Gyeong-yeon, who had joined them at Wonju, was said to be a jaein—a performer, an entertainer by birth—who had wandered the roads as a peddler for many years. Entertainers made their living drifting from place to place showing off one acrobatic trick after another, so a trained body was a necessity of their trade. And whether performer or peddler, life on the road demanded that one pick up the martial arts—subak barehanded fighting, and taekkyon kicking among them. Even the cotton batting hanging from a peddler's hat brim was there to be used for dressing wounds in an emergency.
From the moment they left Wonju, Cha Gyeong-yeon had drilled the two of them in martial training and basic conditioning whenever the chance arose. Granted, simply riding horseback all day long was itself a quiet form of discipline. By the time they reached Manpo, Hong-wi was already far sturdier than he had been in Yeongwol.
But that was only the beginning. Once they arrived in the wild lands, Cha Gyeong-yeon threw himself into training the pair in earnest—and in barely a few months, Hong-wi was transformed to a startling degree. Tough sinews, like those of a rugged bull, stood out along both his shoulders and arms. His eyes had grown so clear and keen they seemed to pierce the vast sky and the great steppe, and the vitality of the wild had quietly settled into his body. Just as a lump of clay, worked by a skilled potter's hands, is fired into porcelain with graceful curves, so the boy had grown into a fine man in the space of a few months, in this rough northern land.
They had been riding for some time when they spotted a speck approaching in the distance and reined in.
"Who could that be?" At Hong-wi's question, Ho-in studied the figure for a long while before answering without confidence. "A single rider, it seems... Could it be Cha Gyeong-yeon?"
"Didn't Cha Gyeong-yeon leave yesterday to procure some goods? He said he'd be gone several days." Hong-wi tilted his head.
A sudden unease settled over the two of them. Without hesitation, their hands went to the curved swords and bows strapped to their saddles. Both of them could now handle their weapons with ease.
After a moment, Hong-wi spoke. "It is Cha Gyeong-yeon, all right. What in the world has happened? He's ahead of schedule—and riding at full gallop."
Hong-wi spurred forward and shouted, "Let's go at once!"
"Yes, my lord."
Ho-in raced after him. They flew down the hillside like arrows. As the distance closed, Hong-wi turned his horse with practiced skill and pulled up squarely in front of Cha Gyeong-yeon—a maneuver far harder than it looked, a feat possible only for someone who had truly mastered his mount.
Cha Gyeong-yeon broke into a grin. "My lord! You've come a long way."
"Better than before, perhaps, but I've far to go yet." Hong-wi wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve as he replied.
"To speak plainly, I'd have to say the same—but the time we've had is far too short for that."
Hong-wi had only seriously taken up his training a few months ago. Two months, at most, by now? Considering that, his progress was remarkable.
"King Taejo, the Great, was himself a great general, they say—and Your Majesty carries his blood."
"Haha. Is that so?"
Hong-wi laughed, unguarded. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "I'd like to think it were true."
But Cha Gyeong-yeon could see straight through to Hong-wi's latent strength. In truth, the mere fact that they had traveled safely from Yeongwol to this place was extraordinary. Had they not hacked their way through trailless mountain paths from Yeongwol to Wonju, with no proper preparations, no help, and no guide? Thinking back on it now, even that was an astonishing feat. In other words, it was no empty flattery to say that Hong-wi had a natural gift.
Forgetting, for a moment, the urgent message he carried, Cha Gyeong-yeon fondly recalled the past few months of instructing Hong-wi, his face full of satisfaction.
They had begun with physical conditioning. The wild land where they were hiding was already in the grip of a bitter cold snap, but Cha Gyeong-yeon paid it no mind. He made them run—twenty ri there and back, every single day, without fail. Once he judged that their stamina had improved somewhat, he began teaching them acrobatics. Before the two of them, Cha Gyeong-yeon launched his body into the air, turned a full somersault, and landed as lightly as a falling leaf—the same trick he had shown when knocking down the soldiers in Wonju.
"Magnificent, even seeing it a second time."
At Hong-wi's admiration, Cha Gyeong-yeon smiled. "I didn't show you just for the spectacle. From now on, I'll teach you every bit of it, one step at a time."
Ho-in's eyes went round. Good heavens—was he actually to learn such a thing?
Cha Gyeong-yeon set down a stone about ankle-high and had the two of them leap over it in turn. It looked like nothing at all, but at first it was harder than they expected. Still, after a few days of practice it grew easier—and each time it did, the stone rose: from ankle height to shin height, then to the knee, higher and higher.
It was not only acrobatics. Cha Gyeong-yeon was equally skilled in the sword, the spear, the bow—a whole range of martial arts. The two of them grew curious about his past. A man of this caliber could have held his own even within the Naegeumwi or the Owi of the Joseon army. Indeed, he seemed to carry military experience from somewhere.
But above all, Cha Gyeong-yeon emphasized archery.
"I trust Your Majesty has had some schooling in the bow already."
"Some, yes." Hong-wi nodded. It was well known that Yi Seong-gye, King Taejo, had been a prodigious archer of legendary caliber, and perhaps for that very reason, archery was the one art even Joseon women were sometimes taught.
"From here on, Your Majesty must train his archery until he could stand shoulder to shoulder with the Great King Taejo himself." Cha Gyeong-yeon spoke firmly. "The wild tribes may be careless about other things, but they regard skill with the bow as paramount. They are fastidious about bloodlines, yet they honor a master archer without reservation. Even Yi Ji-ran, the right hand of the Great King Taejo, was originally a man of these wild lands—he submitted to Taejo on the strength of his archery alone."
Unlike the deeply nomadic Mongols, the Jurchen people also farmed, hunting and herding alongside it. Even so, warriors who rode well and shot well were held in the deepest respect. For Hong-wi's party—strangers in a strange land—to win their regard, mastering the bow was not optional. It was essential.
"Even so, how could I ever measure myself against the Great King Taejo?" Hong-wi gave an awkward laugh.
"You must. Come—let's see you practice."
Cha Gyeong-yeon led the two of them to an empty clearing, where he set up a tall target post at roughly a hundred paces' distance.
"With your permission, I would see your skill. Loose ten rounds, if you please." With those words, Cha Gyeong-yeon set down a bundle of arrows. Ten rounds meant some fifty shots.
Ho-in stepped forward first. "Allow me to shoot first."
Hong-wi nodded. Ho-in, too, had trained in the martial arts to some degree from childhood. Raising his bow, he took careful aim at the target and loosed. One arrow, two, three... shaft after shaft struck true.
"Not bad at all."
Cha Gyeong-yeon offered his praise as Ho-in finished, wiping the sweat from his face. Of fifty arrows, only four had missed the mark. Against ordinary military officers, that was hardly a level to be ashamed of.
Next it was Hong-wi's turn. He drew a deep breath, raised his bow, and fixed his clear eyes on the target a hundred paces away. At first, it looked terribly small. He held his breath and concentrated.
For an instant, the image of his uncle flashed through his mind. When was it—some old hunting ground, long ago—where his uncle had taught him the secrets of archery? He clenched his teeth. The next moment, the bowstring slipped free of his fingers.
With a sharp hiss, the arrow flew toward the target—and grazed its edge, just barely striking. Without a word, Hong-wi nocked the next arrow. The other two men said nothing. Again the bowstring sang through the air.
"Dead center!"
As the arrow struck home with a resounding crack, Ho-in shouted with all his might. Hong-wi silently nocked the next. Again and again he loosed, as if trying to shake something loose from his very bones. When the arrows ran out, he stood staring hard at the target.
"Seven misses in ten rounds, my lord. That is not bad." Cha Gyeong-yeon had gone to inspect the target.
"Haha. That's a bit embarrassing, isn't it?" Hong-wi replied.
It was no idle modesty. Forty-three hits out of fifty sounds like considerable skill—but to a practiced archer, it was nothing remarkable. And after all, Hong-wi's ancestor, King Taejo Yi Seong-gye, was the master archer who could strike the very eye of a goose in flight, was he not?
"Compared to the Great King Taejo, I'm ashamed to call myself his descendant."
"Ah... but Your Majesty need not see it quite that way. In truth... this much is already enough to make the wild tribes marvel."
"Is it?"
Not only Hong-wi but Ho-in tilted his head as well. Cha Gyeong-yeon retrieved the arrows and explained with a grin. "They say the wild tribes are fine archers, but their actual skill, surprisingly, is nothing extraordinary. In large part that's because—beyond the men themselves—their craft in making bows and arrows lags far behind... At around fifty paces, landing this many hits will earn you a reputation as a fine archer among them."
"Really."
"If this is your first attempt, practice will only improve you. Eventually, you'll need to learn mounted archery as well."
Hong-wi threw himself into his training in earnest. Like a well-wrung cloth drinking up water, he absorbed everything Cha Gyeong-yeon taught him. Even Cha Gyeong-yeon himself was taken aback. And when a student keeps pace so well, the teacher cannot help but pour his heart into the work. Before he knew it, Cha Gyeong-yeon was passing on to the two of them everything he had ever learned.