Haste Breeds Heart-Demons
After meeting Yang Su-rin, I spent a while in something of a daze.
For someone who invariably surveyed the state of affairs with cold, rational eyes and planned the future around them, this was truly a rare occurrence. Perhaps the unexpected sincerity Yang Su-rin had shown had thawed a heart I had assumed had frozen over for good. Such was the unclouded genuineness of what she revealed that day.
Why?
Objectively speaking, I knew my discernment was exceptional. I had trained it directly under Chwipung-gae, a master the likes of which the world rarely produced, and honed it through more than a decade of application. Add to that my quick-witted five senses the hidden depths of the Beggars' Gang — the very essence of an information network — and there was no denying its accuracy.
And yet.
'I'm just asking you to think about it. That's all I wanted to say.'
Even with my discernment, I could not read the heart behind those words of Yang Su-rin's. This is not to say I failed to grasp the emotion steeped in them, or the hidden meaning beneath — I am hardly a blind man. Rather, what I truly could not fathom was how a person like Yang Su-rin had come to harbor such feelings in the first place. And beyond that, I could not truly say I understood my own feelings upon hearing them.
Like Dancheon Myeong before his regression, I had become a person riddled with things I did not know. The fact sat strangely with me.
"I'll be going, then."
"Go well, my lord."
When the mind grows tangled, there is nothing better than moving the body. Experience had taught me that once you latch onto a single worry and begin to drag it around, it buries you alive. A buried thought inevitably narrows; a narrowed gaze inevitably yields a cramped conclusion. In such moments, keeping one's distance from the problem is the wisest course — so I resolved to stay away from her question for the time being. And I chose as my means the sharing and pursuit of martial arts, which was a thoroughly productive decision.
Clang!
Chun-baek's sword qi came crashing against my Invisible Sword. As though to burn away the thoughts cluttering my mind, his martial art stood resolute before me.
"Chun-baek, you seem a bit rough today."
I knew, of course, that Chun-baek's swordsmanship prized efficiency and discipline. Strip away the vagabond's name, and his art embodied practicality and refinement in equal measure. But the strike he had just delivered resembled, if I may put it so, truly a vagabond's sword — a roughness that might well be the very essence of the art itself.
Ordinarily, when an inferior practitioner moves raw and unpolished, it makes for an ugly sight. But for a master ascending the heights, rawness is a word that stands for essence — for origin itself. That is only possible because the foundation is rock-solid. A solid foundation permits transformation; transformation permits one to circle back and touch the root once more. In the Wudang way of speaking, that, too, is the Dao.
By my assessment, Chun-baek's swordsmanship was advancing toward its roots.
"I want to break out of the mold, so I've been trying all sorts of things."
"Excellent."
At my answer, Chun-baek smiled with satisfaction — no doubt because he knew my words carried not a grain of flattery.
"Coming from you, that's a real encouragement."
"You flatter me."
A martial art that has reached the heights of ascension is, in truth, like a boundless open sea. Because one knows it can stretch in any direction, many find themselves unable to move in any direction at all. Set a foot down the wrong path, and you may be forced to walk a long way back — in the worst case, you may even regress. This fear is what we call the heart-demon.
In the end, one finds the road in a master's footsteps and advances step by step, using one's own conviction and enlightenment as signposts. But how could a person remain unshakable at all times? The recognition of someone you yourself respect — that, too, is a means of hardening one's conviction. That is why we always exchange our martial arts with one another, and why Chun-baek looked so pleased just now. His certainty that his path was right had grown a little firmer, and I hoped his steps forward would grow all the steadier for it.
"Come at me with that feeling today."
"I was already—"
Clang!
"—intending to."
Chun-baek, uncharacteristically, loosed a sword strike in the middle of our conversation.
"Haha!"
Something about the sight pleased me so much that I laughed out loud.
"Truly worthy of the Vagabond Swordsman, Yi Chun-baek."
"You're too kind."
This, too, was rawness for Chun-baek — a new attempt. For a martial artist who prizes form and pattern, occasional boldness is vital, and surely at the end of the road he now walked, the seed of a new enlightenment awaited.
"My turn now."
Whoosh—
"Eek!"
"You'll find it hard to keep dodging."
"I know that much—"
Clang!
"—already."
After that I kept my mouth shut and swung nothing but my sword, yet it was, by honest assessment, a time of remarkably rich conversation.
Half a sihin passed that way. Neither of us aimed for the other's vital points; we sought only to probe each other's martial art, and so a truly honorable duel came to its close.
"Whew—"
I left behind Chun-baek, who was drawing his breath with particular difficulty — likely because he had wielded his sword on a different current of qi than usual.
My bout with Dancheon Hak, my eldest brother, was scheduled next.
"Eldest Brother, I'm ready."
"No words needed — the sword speaks!"
As though refusing to grant me the first strike, Dancheon Hak soared into his movement form and came hurtling at me.
CLANG!
A shockwave that would not have shamed my bout with Chun-baek rattled the training grounds.
"Brother, I have a question."
"Hmph. What?"
"You declare 'no words needed — the sword speaks' every time we begin, so why do you talk so much during the duel itself?"
"……No words needed — the sword speaks!"
Clang!
Dancheon Hak was, by honest assessment, a man one understood and yet did not.
Another half sihin passed.
"……You, huff, have changed, huff, again."
Dancheon Hak's always-immaculate hair hung in disheveled strands. His strength had long since run dry, and it was fair to say he had simply gritted his teeth and held on. If I guessed right, he had clearly been keeping count of how long my bout with Chun-baek had lasted. Pride fuels improvement, so that too was a welcome thing. And while I called it gritting his teeth, my sword never once pulled its punches out of consideration for him — proof in itself that Dancheon Hak gained a great deal from his month at Wudang.
That aside, my eldest brother had always made a habit of talking about how I had changed.
"Brother."
"What?"
"In what way have I changed?"
I asked because I suspected that perhaps the person who knew me better than I did was none other than Dancheon Hak. Could this, too, not be a seed of enlightenment?
"Hmph. If I told you that, would I lose to you?"
"Hmm……"
This was Dancheon Hak being Dancheon Hak, one might say.
"Brother."
"What now?"
"You've changed a great deal too. For the better, I mean."
The ones who had truly changed were Chun-baek and Dancheon Hak. Having crossed blades with them directly, I could see that their month at Wudang had not been spent in vain.
"Hmph! Don't presume to judge me, of all people!"
"……"
I should have landed a few more blows during the duel. No — we would spar again tomorrow; saving them up wouldn't be a bad idea either.
One of the blessings of reaching the ascending realms is how easily one manages one's stamina. In truth, "manage" hardly covers it — my stamina had become simply inexhaustible. An ordinary master of the ascended realms naturally gains a fountain-like wellspring of endurance, but what of mine, steeped in every peerless elixir under heaven and tempered by the Yakseon Heart Decision? Unless I faced a great enemy like the Heavenly Demon or went mad enough to conjure natural disasters with my own hands, I judged that the day my strength ran dry would simply never come.
Whoosh— flick— flick!
Since my stamina never wavered, the Invisible Sword in my hand embroidered the empty air — now fierce, now savage, now swift, now sudden as a storm. Most would cite the obvious advantage of endless training, but for me the greatest gift was the ability to shut out every stray thought. Moving the body has always been the surest way to strip away tangled reflections.
Naturally, I was not yet sorting out my feelings about Yang Su-rin. My temperament has never favored chewing over the past. What I was thinking about now was the future — or, more precisely, the present that walks toward the future.
Whoosh— flick!
That is the nature of enlightenment. It seems plainly visible, yet it isn't. It feels as though you could seize its tail, yet it slips away. The martial art of the Sword Supremacy Wuji had surely reached me as a boon — and yet I could not say with certainty what it was. That was also why Dancheon Myeong, who had long since brought the Dancheon Sword Formula to mastery, was not practicing forms, but simply swinging his sword.
A long stretch of time passed that way.
"Go gently, now."
Behind me, mid-drill, came a welcome voice. It was my uncle Yeo-baek, kept from sparring with me today by the clan's busy affairs.
"Uncle."
My sword path had already reached a subtly masterful level, so I gathered my momentum in an instant and sheathed my blade. In my uncle's gaze as he faced me, I caught two emotions: warmth and worry.
The warmth was surely because he was glad to see me — but why the worry?
"Myeong."
"Yes, Uncle."
"What has you in such a hurry?"
"I beg your pardon?"
So the warmth had been for me, and the worry had been for me as well.
"I know your realm has long since touched the summit of the world. Even in our recent spars, you don't hold back your hand, do you?"
"I do not, Uncle."
"Hah, indeed you don't."
My uncle Yeo-baek smiled ruefully and went on.
"The time when I could still teach you anything has passed. Still, one thing gnaws at me: I read a certain haste in your sword and in your conduct."
"……Ah."
Hearing it put into words, I understood. It was true of me lately. Stepping toward the unprecedented unknown of the Sixth Pillar, I had let impatience creep in without realizing it.
"I will keep it in mind."
"No need to go that far."
As though he had said everything he came to say, my uncle laughed heartily. He had returned to his natural self — the man who had lately led the clan with gentleness and good humor.
"Thank you for the lesson, Uncle."
"Lesson, indeed."
It was no mere courtesy. I genuinely felt his words were right. Knowing with my reason that haste serves nothing is one thing; acting on that knowledge is quite another, which is precisely why it is hard. Enlightenment, by nature, is the crack that brings a wall down — but the small shifts of daily life are enlightenment too. In that sense, I had just sought and found another piece of it from my uncle Yeo-baek.
This was a heart-demon that even the Sword Supremacy Wuji had failed to catch — and so I understood anew that teaching is not confined to the reaches of martial art. Against my wishes, I had come to learn from many people, but if I had to name my first true teacher, it must be my uncle Yeo-baek.
"So — why did you call me here?"
Whether or not my sincerity had come through, my uncle Yeo-baek asked with a satisfied smile. Ah, right. He had not happened upon my training by chance. It was I who had summoned him here.
"Uncle."
"What is it?"
"Who do you trust most?"
"Hmm?"
I had called him here to speak of trust. Not the conviction the Sword Supremacy Wuji had spoken of, but the trust between one person and another.