A cool breeze swept past the body of a man drenched in dust and sweat.
A small village even further north than Baekseong, located at the northern edge of Jilin Province.
He stood atop a hill overlooking Guihon Village, silently gazing at the scenery for a long while.
The wind blew lightly, but his shadow hung heavily.
A towering height, at least six feet tall.
His long limbs stretched out with a firm strength, and despite his height, his well-balanced physique created a natural harmony.
For a moment, his face was revealed—beneath thick, bold eyebrows were not very large eyes that carried a languid glow.
A prominent nose and lips that hinted at stubbornness left a strong impression.
Though his appearance was kind, it was undeniably striking, capturing the gaze of anyone who looked at him.
Slung across his back was an axe with a blade about one foot wide and two feet long, attached to a handle roughly one foot in length, forming a unique shape.
The blade was so wide that it almost covered his back like a shield.
On one shoulder hung a horn bow, smaller than those from the Central Plains but appearing extremely sturdy.
This was the hometown he had returned to after seven years.
Twelve years ago, the land where his father and many brothers fell, bleeding out on the ground.
The place where they sacrificed their lives to protect him and the villagers now stretched out before his eyes.
The pain from that day, which he thought had dulled after wandering the Central Plains for so long, suddenly came rushing back.
And with it, tears streamed down his face.
The little boy who once screamed in terror at being left alone in this vast world was still standing there.
Behind him, the red sunset slowly sank.
“Who… are you, at Cheongangmun?”
A low murmur, as if he were asking himself.
The voice quietly faded with the fading light of the sunset.
No one answered.
Twelve years ago, on that day, his older brother Gangcheol, along with nine other village youths, sacrificed themselves by acting as bait to buy time for the villagers to escape, disappearing into the northeastern mountains.
After the enemy withdrew, the villagers searched desperately for his brother’s body for days on end.
Gangchan himself searched alone for several months but couldn’t find a single strand of hair.
In the end, before leaving the village, he built an empty grave next to his parents’ tomb and held memorial rites.
Then, not long ago, by chance, he heard through Haomun that someone was living there, posing as the gatekeeper of his family’s Cheongangmun.
Putting everything aside, he set out on this journey.
He prayed over and over along the way that the man would truly be his brother.
His gaze lingered on the distant spot where Cheongangmun was believed to stand.
“I’ll know once I go there.”
Muttering this resolve, he scanned the small, wind-blown hill one last time and quietly vanished from the spot.
As if no one had ever been there… heading toward the village that had been hell for the boy he once was.
Ganghwan is the sixth gatekeeper of Cheongangmun.
***
At that time, Goryeo’s internal affairs were in utter chaos, and many refugees from Goryeo crossed the Amrok River into the Central Plains.
However, the Central Plains had only recently come under Ming rule, and the central power structures were still unsettled.
Naturally, border concepts were vague, and in Yodong, remnants of the Mongols had taken control of various territories after being pushed northward.
The Goryeo refugees settling in Yodong faced harsh land, countless bandits, and occasional raids by Mongol remnants who would steal not only crops but also people, forcing them to live in constant fear.
They had only two choices: survive by overcoming these dangers, or die.
Gangchan’s ancestors were no different.
His fifth-generation ancestor, Ganghyeokmin, was a low-ranking Goryeo military officer whose superior was falsely accused of treason and executed.
To save his family’s lives, he migrated to Yodong.
At that time, there were numerous villages established by Goryeo refugees in Yodong.
Among them, Guihon Village, where Ganghyeokmin settled, lay hundreds of li northwest of Changchun in Jilin Province, near the border of the grasslands—composed of about 100 households with roughly 500 residents.
The village was named Guihon (Return Soul) to embody the hope that even lost souls would return to their homeland.
Surrounded by tall mountains forming a basin, with North Tiger Mountain to the northwest wrapping around the village.
Crossing the mountain led to vast, endless grasslands.
The village was enclosed by forests on all sides, making access difficult except via a few narrow mountain paths.
To protect themselves from countless enemies, they formed a self-governed defense unit, going door to door to guard the village.
When they discovered Ganghyeokmin was a former Goryeo military officer, they entrusted him with leading the defense.
For someone with little talent in farming like Ganghyeokmin, their offer was a welcome relief.
After much thought on how to protect the village more efficiently, he founded today’s Cheongangmun.
He took in one or two sons from each household and taught them reading and martial arts.
The problem was, the martial arts Ganghyeokmin had learned were too weak to defend the village effectively.
He made every effort to acquire stronger martial arts.
But finding decent techniques was nearly impossible then, as it is now.
Then, by chance, he obtained the Palseonbirok.
Palseonbirok was a book obtained by one of the refugees entering Guihon Village.
On his way to Guihon Village, he had cared for an injured old man, who gave him the book as a token of gratitude before departing.
Illiterate at the time, the refugee passed the book to Ganghyeokmin with the words to take it if needed.
Despite its mysterious title, the Palseonbirok contained little of substance.
Over many years, Ganghyeokmin’s efforts to find stronger martial arts were fruitless, and there was no better alternative than the Palseonbirok.
Its origins seemed ancient, and the title alone gave it an air of mystique.
For these reasons, the enigmatic Palseonbirok became the exclusive martial art of Cheongangmun.
It was said to be the immortal martial art once practiced by the sages of the Korean Peninsula.
Furthermore, a legend passed down by the old man instilled blind faith in the villagers that the Palseonbirok was indeed a divine art.
The legend told of one who mastered the Palseonbirok, becoming a deity who led all its practitioners to defeat fierce monsters that plagued the human world, thus creating a peaceful and prosperous realm where all lived like immortals.
In reality, however, the book contained nothing extraordinary.
It only described a few basic movements useful against ferocious beasts like tigers and wolves, as well as the fundamental qualities a person must possess, written in somewhat metaphorical and vague terms.
It also included a meditation method said to calm the mind.
Compared to manuals like Samjaegeombeop or Yukhapgwon, which were more accessible and practical, the Palseonbirok seemed inferior.
But the name, nostalgia for their homeland, and a sense of pride were reasons enough to train in it.
Of course, the harsher reality was that no better alternatives existed.
Unbeknownst to the villagers, after starting the meditation practice Inuigiseong recorded in the Palseonbirok, they rarely suffered from minor illnesses.
People who turned their backs on their beloved homeland to survive.
Those with similar stories leaned on each other and gave their all every day, hoping their descendants would live more comfortably and peacefully.
That was, until the incident twelve years ago…
Im, the village herbalist, had been fortunate to find a few relatively valuable herbs and hurriedly descended the mountain.
Feeling lucky that day, he had ventured into the southeastern Amsan, where he rarely dared to go, and found the herbs there.
Given the nature of the herbs, there could be more nearby.
But the forest there was so deep that even entering was a challenge.
Moreover, being unfamiliar with the path, he had to be cautious, causing him to lose much time.
Not wanting to spend the night on the mountain, Im memorized the terrain and hurried down.
Fortunately, he arrived home before nightfall, greeted by his wife.
“You didn’t come back until the sun was almost down. I was worried. Go out earlier next time.”
“Quit nagging and come here.”
“Did you find a treasure?”
“Does it look like it?”
With his answer, Im pulled out the herbs he had gathered from his pouch.
“If I trim and dry these well, I’ll make some good silver.”
“Wow, you struck gold!”
“Right? I’m planning to go again early tomorrow.”
“Then eat quickly and go to bed early.”
***
After a hurried dinner and preparing for the next day’s journey, Im went to bed.
Before dawn, he woke and hurriedly retraced the route he had remembered, dreaming of a big find as he headed back up the mountain.
However, he couldn’t easily find the path he recalled from the descent.
“There was definitely a big rock here, and a narrow path beside it…”
“Ah, whatever. I’ll just go forward.”
Though uncertain, he feared that wasting more time would make descending again difficult.
The path grew narrower, and the trees thicker.
The dense canopy blocked the sunlight, making the surroundings darker.
As the forest dimmed, Im grew uneasy.
“Ah. What if my greed ends up killing me?”
Around an hour in, chasing the patchy sunlight filtering through the trees, Im suddenly stepped into a burst of sunlight and was momentarily dazed.
He had finally emerged from the forest.
And before him lay a paradise of rocks.
Bizarrely shaped stones scattered across the land formed a magnificent sight.
Im sat on one of the rocks to calm his mind.
As he settled, hunger crept in.
He took out his water and rice balls, eating while surveying the surroundings.
Sunlight glimmered off the rocks.
Among them, one rock shone more brightly than the rest, catching his eye.
Setting aside his food and drink, Im cautiously approached the rock.
Unlike the others, the lower part of this rock cast a yellowish glow under the sunlight.
“What is this? Could it be gold?”
He touched the glowing rock, then picked up a fairly sturdy stone nearby and struck it hard.
Thunk.
With a dull sound, a sparkling fragment chipped off.
He examined the piece from various angles.
“Could it really be?”
The thought that it might be gold made his heart pound wildly.
Trembling, he gripped the fragment in his hand.
His pupils gleamed with a golden light.
Struggling to calm his racing heart, Im ran down the mountain, losing track of how he made it back to the village.
The village appeared in the distance.
He clutched the stone tightly to his chest and nervously glanced around.
After confirming no one was nearby several times, he quietly entered his home.