Training, Training!
The afternoon sun hung high in the sky.
Having returned from the Guan Clan Residence, Un-hyeon had coaxed the weeping Yeon-woo to sleep and taken a brief respite of his own. Now, he was tending the fire and preparing a meal before the child awoke.
In the midst of his chores, Yeon-woo padded out from the room and casually dropped a verbal thunderbolt.
“Wh-what did you just say?”
Eyes swollen like ripe plums, Yeon-woo sniffled and repeated herself.
“I wanna learn martial arts. Teach me.”
Clack—thump—clatter!
The bundle of firewood in Un-hyeon’s hands crashed to the floor, rolling in every direction. His lips parted in stunned disbelief.
A heavy silence hung in the room for a fleeting breath.
Step.
Rushing forward, Un-hyeon sank to his knees so his eyes were level with hers, his weathered hands catching her small shoulders.
“Did you truly say you wish to learn martial arts? You, learn martial arts?”
Yeon-woo nodded vigorously.
“Yeah.”
“Good heavens!”
“You don’t want to?”
“H-how could I possibly not want to?! Of course I shall teach you! Naturally, I will! It is only… your sudden change of heart caught me entirely off guard.”
“You said it yourself, Grandpa.” Yeon-woo sniffled, dragging her sleeve across her runny nose with a careless swipe. “You said if I learn martial arts, I won’t die.”
“Yes. I did indeed say that…!”
“So that’s why I decided to learn. Martial arts.”
Sniffle.
Her eyelids were so puffed up that one could hardly tell where she was looking. Yet to Un-hyeon’s eyes, the little girl had never looked more precious.
In the path of martial arts, nothing mattered more than the student’s own will to learn. He had spent restless hours fretting over how to kindle that very spark within her, only for her to offer it freely.
“You have chosen well. A truly wise choice.”
Un-hyeon smoothed down her messy hair with deep affection.
“I shall pour every ounce of my heart and soul into instructing you. If it is you, child, you will surely master it.”
He stroked the head of the quietly sniffling girl again and again, murmuring with tender conviction.
“You will do splendidly.”
“Do you know what is most important in martial arts?”
Their bellies full after a warm meal, Un-hyeon and Yeon-woo sat across from each other with a small wooden table between them.
At Un-hyeon’s question, Yeon-woo cocked her head to the side.
“Super crazy strength?”
“Strength? Yes, possessing power greater than any foe is certainly vital. However, raw strength cannot be considered the foremost priority in mastering the martial path. Even without overwhelming muscle as a foundation, one can become immeasurably strong.”
Poison arts and hidden weapons were prime examples. Countless disciplines throughout the world placed far greater weight upon seasoned technique, cunning precision, and vast knowledge than mere physical brawn.
“Then what is it?”
“The five senses.”
“The five senses?”
Un-hyeon held up a hand, unfurling his fingers one by one.
“Sight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste. These five fundamental senses. Once they are honed to perfection, you can advance toward cultivating qi-perception—the ability to sense the ebb and flow of internal energy itself.”
“Yeon-woo has a really good nose!”
“Indeed. You were born with an extraordinary sense of smell. From what I have observed, it is so sharp that you scarcely require training for it. Thanks to that, your sense of taste will pose no trouble either.”
She could already discern medicine from poison by scent alone without needing a single drop to touch her tongue.
Yeon-woo bobbed her head with immense pride.
“Therefore, we shall devote our efforts to training the remaining three.”
“Three of them…” Yeon-woo wiggled her stubby fingers, counting aloud. “Sight, hearing, and… uh… qi…?”
“Touch. And thereafter, qi-perception.”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Attempting qi-perception at your current stage is far too ambitious.”
She had not yet grasped the faintest concept of internal energy. Skipping ahead would be building a pavilion on sand.
“Hence, we shall begin with the fundamentals. First is your sight.”
Clack-clack-clack!
Un-hyeon set three identical teacups in a neat row upon the table.
“Now, observe. Here are three stones. In consideration of that sharp nose of yours, I took special care to select stones free of any distinct scent.”
Un-hyeon opened his palm. Resting upon his calloused skin were three river pebbles identical in size and contour. Two were pitch-black, while one gleamed milky white.
“I shall place these beneath the cups and shuffle them. Watch with keen eyes and locate where the white pebble rests.”
“What! That’s so easy!”
Thrilled by what seemed like a simple parlor game, Yeon-woo kicked her feet together and giggled.
Un-hyeon offered a gentle, knowing smile.
“It will not be as simple as you think. Watch closely now, for I shall swap them five times.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The inverted cups came down, hiding the three pebbles from view. Yeon-woo nodded with confidence. The white stone rested beneath the center cup. With an easy, self-assured gaze, she locked her eyes onto the porcelain.
“Ahem.”
Un-hyeon’s fingertips lightly pressed against the rims of the cups.
Whoosh—whir-whir-whir—snap!
“……!”
In a mere fraction of a breath, the positions shifted five times. Not a single movement more, not a single movement less—precisely five switches.
The trouble was…
“Now then. Point it out.”
“……”
Yeon-woo blinked her round eyes and stared up at Un-hyeon in absolute shock.
She had seen nothing. Rather, she had registered a blur of wind and motion rushing before her nose, but the cups remained sitting in their exact original spots. Un-hyeon’s hands had moved with such terrifying velocity that the porcelain seemed as though it had never budged at all.
“Did you not claim it was easy? Come, take your guess.”
“Y-Yeon-woo didn’t…”
I didn’t catch a single thing!
Desperate, she stabbed a finger toward the cup on the far right.
“This one!”
Un-hyeon lifted the center cup. Nestled beneath it was the pale, white stone.
“Incorrect.”
“It didn’t even move?!”
“To be precise, from your vantage point, it traveled right, left, right once more, and returned to the center.”
“When did it do that?!”
“Do not rely on blind luck.”
“……!”
Yeon-woo flushed with flustered indignation. She opened her mouth to protest that he had moved ridiculously fast, but before the complaint could leave her lips—
Rustle.
Un-hyeon retrieved an object from behind his back: a sturdy wooden chest wrapped in patterned silk cloth. Untying the knot, he slid back the lid to reveal an assortment of savory beef jerky and honeyed dried fruits packed to the brim.
“Whoaaa…”
A glistening line of drool instantly trailed from the corner of Yeon-woo’s mouth. Acting on pure primal instinct, her little hand shot forward like an arrow—
Thwack!
Before her fingers could graze a single strip, the lid snapped shut.
Yeon-woo stared at Un-hyeon in dazed betrayal.
“This is your prize. From this day forth, we shall perform this exercise ten times every day. Should you correctly pinpoint the white stone three out of ten times, a reward from this chest shall be yours.”
“…Three whole times…?”
“Did you not boast of how simple it was?” Un-hyeon teased, his eyes crinkling. Who was it that had been practically humming a victory tune just moments ago?
“Hmph.”
Yeon-woo slumped into a dejected puddle.
Watching her pout, Un-hyeon tapped the corner of his own eye.
“Train with diligence, and a day will come when your eyes can pierce any illusion.”
“Really?”
“Truly.”
With time, she would learn to see through an opponent’s subtlest intentions. The slight shift of a shoulder, the pivot of a toe, the flickering angle of a gaze. She would anticipate their strikes before they were launched, distinguish deadly feints from genuine blows, and attain the clairvoyance required to stay one step ahead of mortal peril.
“Therefore, discipline yourself tirelessly until a test of this caliber becomes nothing more than child’s play.”
Un-hyeon retrieved a solitary, savory ribbon of beef jerky he had set aside earlier and held it out. Yeon-woo bounced on the spot, snatching it into her mouth with delighted crunches.
“Grandpa, let’s go again! Do it again!”
The corners of Un-hyeon’s mouth curved into a warm grin.
“Very well.”
His weathered fingers rested lightly upon the porcelain cups once more.
Babble, ripple…
A broad, clear stream flowed placidly through the wilderness.
In water running waist-deep, Yeon-woo sat cross-legged upon the smooth riverbed, her eyes bound tight beneath a dark blindfold. Surrounding her was an enclosure of finely woven fishing netting, inside of which dozens of fish—both large and small—darted lazily through the gentle current, circling her submerged form.
“Touch is the sense of reading the world through your skin. Once your tactile perception is refined, you will learn to interpret heaven and earth without relying on sight or sound.”
Hardness and yield. Chill and heat. The faintest resonance rippling across the four quarters of the world. Even the imperceptible stirring of the wind.
When touch was developed to its zenith, one could reckon the number of approaching foes purely through the tremors of the earth. A single point of physical contact would lay bare an enemy’s trajectory and balance. Furthermore, one could discern lurking doom before it struck by sensing the subtle compression of the atmosphere.
“Touch shares the most intimate tether with qi-perception. You must never neglect its refinement.”
“Grandpa, I wanna eat the fish.”
“Did I not say you may feast upon them the moment you tell me how many swim beside you?”
“But still…!”
Discerning the precise count of fish gliding erratically through a churning stream purely by the water’s minute ripples was madness! True, the surrounding net prevented any fish from escaping or entering, but—
“How am I supposed to figure this out?!”
The fish never stayed still! She couldn't tell if this ripple was that fish, or if that ripple was this fish!
“I don’t know!”
“You are capable of it. Center your mind and focus.”
“!”
Yeon-woo scrunched her little brows tight. Hearing him claim that she was capable made a stubborn competitive fire spark inside her belly. It still felt utterly impossible, but perhaps… just maybe… she really could do it?
Hrmph.
“Feel the flow of the water.”
Seeing the child settle into earnest contemplation, Un-hyeon gently guided her inner imagery with a calm, resonant voice. His gaze lingered upon the small figure submerged in the rippling current.
‘Telling her she can achieve this is no hollow praise.’
Throughout the time he had watched Yeon-woo, her innate sensory faculties far outstripped those of any child he had ever encountered. At first, he had assumed only her sense of smell was remarkable, but that was merely the most glaring of her gifts. Sight, touch, hearing, taste—every single faculty operated on a plane leagues beyond an ordinary mortal.
It was precisely why he had chosen to build her foundational training around sensory mastery before introducing complex martial forms.
Yet…
‘Those senses are not Yeon-woo’s true weapon.’
The most terrifying asset that young child possessed lay elsewhere.
‘Her boundless concentration.’
The moment she resolved to do something, she possessed a chilling ability to shut out every distraction in existence, plunging headlong into a state of absolute, terrifying focus.