The Grain of All Creation
Chopping firewood was one of the few things Yeon-woo truly felt confident doing.
Long before she had been sold off to the Guan Clan Residence, back when she was just a beggar on the streets, her parents had forced an axe into her small hands and ordered her to bring home money. She had been barely four years old at the time. Looking back, it was an utterly absurd thing to demand of a toddler, yet miraculously enough, Yeon-woo had been exceptionally good at it from the very start. It was all thanks to the absurd physical strength she had been born with.
Naturally, there were few tasks in the world she felt more assured of handling. And yet...
“You want me to... chop this?”
Yeon-woo stared down in bewilderment. The log was completely submerged in the stream. No matter how strong she was, this felt like an impossible task.
“What do you think about before you split a log?” Namgoong Woon-hyeon asked quietly.
“Before I split it?”
“Before your axe strikes the wood.”
Yeon-woo knitted her brow, pondering the question. “I don’t think at all. I just swing down with a whoosh, and—”
She brought the axe down into the water. A sharp splash erupted, showering droplets into the air.
“—then crack! It splits right open. The wood, I mean.”
“And where do you aim your strike?”
“The side that splits easily, of course.”
“How do you know which side will yield easily?”
“Uh...” Yeon-woo faltered. How did she tell? Splitting wood had always been as natural to her as breathing, so she had never paused to examine it. It simply split whenever she struck that particular spot.
“Everything under heaven possesses a grain,” Woon-hyeon said, his tone measured and calm.
“A grain?”
“A flow. The current of this stream swirling past your legs. Even the faint breeze that sweeps in from across the valley only to brush past your cheek.”
Yeon-woo looked down at the rippling water, then followed Woon-hyeon’s gaze upward toward the canopy. A gentle rustle stirred the branches, and a stray leaf fluttered down on the wind, landing upon the water’s surface with a faint, delicate ripple. Caught in the stream, the leaf drifted lazily downstream toward them.
Just as it drifted alongside where they stood, Woon-hyeon gently lifted the sword resting against the submerged log and held the edge upright directly in the leaf’s path.
The leaf parted.
It did not snag against the blade, nor did its momentum stutter for even a fraction of an instant. Riding the steady speed of the current, it separated into two perfect halves and continued downstream as smoothly as silk slipping over stone. Yeon-woo’s eyes went wide, shimmering with pure wonder.
“Whoa...”
“Just as you instinctively recognized the grain of the timber when swinging your axe, you must now learn to feel the water, the air, and the earth beneath you,” Woon-hyeon continued, looking down at her. “Perceive the grain of the world. Grasp it through your senses.”
“My senses?” Yeon-woo asked, tilting her head. Like what we’ve been practicing these past few days?
“Indeed. Once you learn to read the grain of all creation...” Woon-hyeon raised his sword high. “...even a task like this will not be beyond you.”
With a calm, fluid descent, his blade swept down toward the submerged log anchored beneath his feet.
A whisper of displaced air hissed through the shallows. Just like the floating leaf moments before, the heavy timber parted in an instant, sliced through as cleanly and effortlessly as fresh bean curd.
Yeon-woo gasped, her breath catching in her throat. It was not merely the bisected wood that left her stunned. She had seen it clearly with her own two eyes. In that fleeting instant, along with the wood, the water itself had been cut in two.
“H-How did you do that?! How did you do that?!”
“I merely severed the grain.”
“The grain? The grain has a shape in water, too? Really?” Yeon-woo gripped the handle of her axe tightly, her chest pounding with a wild excitement. I want to do that. I want to do that so badly!
To watch something she had thought entirely impossible unfold right before her eyes was cooler than anything she had ever witnessed.
“Can I do it, too? Really? Truly?”
“You can,” Woon-hyeon replied with a faint nod. “From this day forth, make that your purpose.”
“Okay!”
For the very first time in her life, the little girl had found a true ambition: to cut water. Her bright, sparkling eyes fixed upon the murmuring current, brimming with more vibrant life than they ever had before.
From that day on, Yeon-woo’s training became far more demanding and systematic.
Rising before the first light of dawn, she climbed the mountain alongside Woon-hyeon. Reaching the peak just as the horizon began to pale, the two sat cross-legged and drew in the crisp mountain air. She learned to read the purity of that atmosphere, sensing the invisible currents of the wind through her nose, against her skin, and across her entire body.
After descending for a morning meal, they hiked right back up. Their next destination was a small, secluded waterfall tucked just above the mountainside. Beneath the thunderous cascade, Yeon-woo sat cross-legged once more, immersing herself in the language of the current. The water that plunged from above, the water that shattered against stone, the water that flowed, the spray that sank into the loam, and the whirlpools that swirled in the basin—she tracked every single motion.
The mountain water carried a sharp, mineral freshness that she found intoxicating. She loved the scent so much that Woon-hyeon often had to physically pull her out of the spray before her shivering lips turned completely blue.
To warm her chilled limbs, she trained in the axe with Woon-hyeon. Though he was a master of the sword, he was also the foremost martial artist in the Central Plains; his mastery of axe forms was vast enough that he could never hope to teach her everything he knew. Even so, he did not have her chop down trees. Her target had already been chosen, rendering ordinary wood meaningless. Instead, he taught her how to channel the full weight of her strength into the weapon, how to guide its arc with proper balance, and how minute shifts in grip and posture dramatically altered the force behind a strike.
Once the forms were burned into her muscles, Yeon-woo returned to the stream. Submerged to her waist in the frigid flow, she faced the heavy log driven deep into the riverbed and lashed securely to the surrounding boulders.
Axe blows crashed down one after another, throwing up white plumes of spray. Cutting wood submerged beneath moving water was brutally difficult. The axe would sweep down from overhead with tremendous momentum, only to lose all its power the moment it struck the surface, wobbling erratically under the drag of the current. The sheer resistance of the water was relentless. Even when she knew precisely which seam of the timber to strike, the blade slipped away before it could bite.
Yet Yeon-woo never once lowered her arms in defeat. I’m going to cut the water. With every single swing, she poured the whole of her heart and stubborn will into the strike.
After two grueling hours in the stream, she climbed the mountain once again—this time, with a thick cloth wrapped securely around her eyes.
Robbed of sight, the child had to rely entirely on her hands and feet to keep from tumbling down the rocky slope. Her ears strained to catch the faintest whisper of rustling brush, and her skin prickled with awareness, reading the drafts of air like a living membrane. Woon-hyeon trailed silently behind her with his presence completely masked, patiently waiting for the day when her senses would grow keen enough to detect him.
By the time she reached the halfway point of the mountain, the chill that had seeped into her bones from the river was replaced by rivers of hot sweat. When she finally reached the cave and pulled off the blindfold, her face was always radiant with unbridled joy.
It was not merely the satisfaction of hard work that made her beam. Waiting for her at the summit of her climb was a small mountain of sweet, delicious snacks.
Though the treats were piled high, Yeon-woo kept her promise to Woon-hyeon and ate only a single piece before sitting cross-legged before the cave entrance. There, she meditated once more, feeling the drafts wandering in and out of the cavern, the sugary aroma hanging thick in the air, and the myriad songs of distant birds and creeping insects. And when the faint, crystal chime of Woon-hyeon’s bell drifted through the trees, she leaped to her feet and raced down the mountain path with sheer delight.
Waiting for her back at the house were Woon-hyeon, the Dark Shadow Demon Lord, and a feast of steaming, savory meat. By the time she had stuffed her belly full, the sun would dip beneath the western peaks, and the Dark Shadow Demon Lord would sit her down for the nightly meridian restructuring.
Once the grueling process of channeling internal energy through her meridians was complete, the Demon Lord would gently tap her sleep acupoint, plunging her into a deep, dreamless slumber. That was the peaceful end to Yeon-woo’s long, exhausting days.
Three months passed in the blink of an eye.
Dusting off his sleeves with a faint patter, the Dark Shadow Demon Lord stepped out from the inner chamber into the cool evening air. He cast a glance toward the yard. Beside the dying embers of a campfire stood Woon-hyeon, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed up at the pale moon hanging in the dark sky.
After observing the swordsman for a quiet moment, the Demon Lord strolled over with a lazy grin. “Trying to look tragic and brooding, are we?”
Woon-hyeon turned his head toward him.
The Demon Lord chuckled, pointing an accusatory finger. “Keep standing around with that gloomy scowl, and people are going to start mistaking you for a decrepit old fossil.”
“How is Yeon-woo?”
“Asleep, of course.”
“You’ve worked hard.”
“Listen to you,” the Demon Lord scoffed with a breezy snicker. “Anyone overhearing would think you’re the brat’s doting grandfather.”
“It would not be entirely false.”
“Nor is it entirely true.”
Woon-hyeon exhaled a quiet sigh. After a brief pause, he asked, “Is the meridian restructuring truly finished as of tonight?”
“Well, continuing would be utterly pointless,” the Demon Lord replied casually. “Her meridians are completely open and settled. Every trace of impurity has been flushed clean, and that monstrous skeletal frame she was born with has been polished into absolute perfection.”
He folded his arms, a self-satisfied smirk touching his lips. “The results are far better than I anticipated. Partly thanks to your harsh training regimen, I suppose. Though the lion’s share of credit naturally belongs to me.”
The meridian restructuring had sharpened her five senses, and those heightened senses had made her physical conditioning far smoother. As her body grew stronger through rigorous training, it absorbed the benefits of the restructuring all the more effectively. Woon-hyeon’s discipline and the Dark Shadow Demon Lord’s esoteric arts had complemented one another in flawless harmony.
“I’m already tingling with excitement just imagining what she’ll become when she grows up,” the Demon Lord mused, a dangerous spark flashing in his violet eyes. A masterpiece honed by the greatest martial artist of the Central Plains and shaped by his own hands—the mere thought of her tearing through the Demon Dragon Hall in the future made his blood simmer with anticipation.
“Oh, right. I’ll be away for a little while,” he added offhandedly.
“Where are you going?”
“Believe it or not, I happen to be an extraordinarily busy man.”
“So you are aware that you look like someone with nothing better to do.”
The Dark Shadow Demon Lord pouted theatrically. “Aren’t you even going to ask where I’m headed?”
“Where are you headed?”
“It’s a secret.”
Woon-hyeon’s gaze turned flat and chilly. I shouldn't have bothered asking. He had known that absurd answer was coming, yet managing to irritate people even when entirely predictable was an impressive talent in its own right.
“Since her meridians are settled,” Woon-hyeon remarked, looking away, “I intend to teach her internal energy cultivation starting tomorrow.”
“Oh? Finally?” The Demon Lord’s brow arched. She’s finally going to start gathering internal energy in her dantian?
“I do not know when you plan to return, but by the time you do, that child will have...” Woon-hyeon cut himself off mid-sentence, his brow furrowing in irritation as he caught himself. Why am I even telling him this?
A muffled snicker escaped the Demon Lord’s lips. “Telling me to look forward to it? How surprisingly sweet of you. If you put it like that, how could I possibly resist coming back?”
Woon-hyeon’s expression cooled to ice. The Demon Lord only laughed harder, waving a dismissive hand.
“Well, whatever. Don't worry your pretty head—I’m leaving a dog behind to watch over things while I’m gone.”
“A dog?” Woon-hyeon asked, genuinely taken aback. A barking hound?
Before he could demand an explanation for the bizarre remark, the Dark Shadow Demon Lord had already drifted several paces away into the shadows. He offered a lazy, fluttering wave over his shoulder, only to suddenly freeze in place.
“Oh, right.” He turned his head back toward Woon-hyeon, his smile thinning into something sharp and knowing. “They should be arriving quite soon, by the way.”
“...?”
“Those little lackeys you’ve been so patiently waiting for.”