The rumor that I intended to visit Yeongongbu didn’t even last a full day before spreading everywhere. Yeongongbu was a place so neglected that even the servants refused to enter for cleaning.
The one who amplified the rumor was Gwak Jindo’s Woldo. Since I always went to Yeongongbu with him, Gwak Jindo seemed to take it as a given that I would inevitably follow along—like a customary ritual. But that wasn’t the reality.
In truth, it wasn’t just suspicion but an actual master-disciple relationship.
“But are you really going to come here openly every day like this?”
“I’m here to try out some techniques in the forest. Didn’t I also practice Gonjataedo the other day?”
“Your words flow like a clear stream.”
With that, I assumed the stance of a qigong form—the same odd pose Gwak Jindo used, with one leg raised and the sword waving about.
As usual, this was inside the training ground of Yeongongbu. It had long been a fact that the training ground was untidy, and many fighters carried weapons.
Naturally, even if I gave it my all, no serious injuries or mishaps ever occurred.
“What form did you use yesterday to unfold your technique?”
“Hok, I unfolded it.”
At my answer, Gwak Jindo rolled his eyes upward. I didn’t particularly want to do what he commanded, but it felt as if evading his sudden ambush was a given.
“Then this time, try unfolding ‘Maehwa’ (Plum Blossom).”
“Yes.”
The distinctive feature of Namhae Sibigeom compared to other sects’ martial arts was its freedom. Unlike the Taeguk Wisdom Sword of the Shamans, which followed the principle of softness, or the Shaolin Luohan Fist Technique, which adhered to hardness, Namhae Sibigeom had no fixed principles.
It was said this was because the source of Namhae Sibigeom—the sea—had no set movements. Sometimes soft, sometimes sturdy, sometimes violent like a tidal wave, sometimes unpredictably shifting. It was certainly a difficult martial art.
“Now unfold Haeunmubong.”
Gwak Jindo spoke. Haeunmubong was the first primary form of Namhae Sibigeom.
The method of the primary form was simple. Place force on the rear foot, take a large step forward, and then thrust swiftly with the sword. It was like an unexpected column of water suddenly shooting up from nowhere.
The key was the unpredictability. No matter how fast, if the path was predetermined, it was no different from being stopped or moving without variation.
While using Haeunmubong, I could roughly follow the appropriate footwork, and by altering the footwork, I could change the sword’s path.
As I thrust my sword, the sand beneath it was blown away by the sword’s wind and overturned. After swinging the Namhae Sibigeom continuously for five days, I seemed to have acquired some skill.
“Continue to the next.”
A soft voice came from behind. That word meant I had passed. On the first and second days, training ended after repeating mostly just Haeunmubong.
Since becoming a disciple, Gwak Jindo was strictly scrutinizing my martial arts.
I was indeed mastering the essence and posture of Haeunmubong, but application was another matter.
However, I thought the form I just performed was quite perfect. Haeunmubong had to target Key Pressure Points where a lot of qi accumulated.
Delivering a powerful strike by putting your full weight into it was risky, so if you didn’t aim for the Key Pressure Points, you could be countered by the principle of Rokchamgoldan —“cut flesh, break bone.”
“Keep going, keep going.”
Even as other thoughts crossed my mind, I had internalized enough to unfold the early primary forms of Namhae Sibigeom.
This was the result of repeating just a few movements over five days.
While making me repeat the primary forms, Gwak Jindo explained this method wasn’t about achieving martial arts success but about raising perception.
“Now stop.”
After I finished the form Honggokyusu and unfolded the third form Iryeonmanjang, Gwak Jindo spoke.
“Hoo.”
With those words, he exhaled roughly. His hands were trembling, sweat oozing out, almost causing his sword grip to loosen.
“…Honestly, I don’t know what to do with this. It’s a headache.”
Gwak Jindo rubbed his head and approached me. Without another word, merciless punches and kicks began. It wasn’t the harmonious violence of a master-disciple but rather an interrogation mixed with bloodshed.
Only Gwak Jindo’s method was somewhat rough.
I felt a strange satisfaction but was also troubled. Our worries were the same.
Gwak Jindo said that the form and intention of my primary forms showed absurd achievements. But the problem was that since Namhae Sibigeom was an advanced martial art, it required a lot of internal energy, and my internal energy was weak.
Naturally, when using sword techniques and footwork, I unconsciously expended my internal energy, so if I used three or four primary forms, like last time, my internal energy would run out and I’d faint.
“Phew. Your primary forms hardly use internal energy. If this is happening now…”
“It’s all the fault of the imperfect disciple.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that…”
Gwak Jindo avoided my eyes. The Gwak Jindo I knew was always straightforward and principled, but in front of me, he was softening his tone.
I roughly understood why.
“Didn’t I tell you? You’re a person with an absurdly high talent. Internal energy can’t be obtained by shortcuts, so it’s unavoidable that yours is lacking. And you’ve never seen or heard of someone grasping the essence of martial arts as fast as you.”
Gwak Jindo continued.
“Let me ask you once more. You’re not someone who belongs in this third-rate sect. You’re someone who, if you demonstrated sword techniques before the Murim Alliance leader, would be accepted as a proper disciple.”
As he said this, Gwak Jindo’s focus sharpened, his veins bulging more than when he was simply watching my martial arts.
“I already told you I’m not going.”
“Honestly, your talent makes it difficult for me to teach you fully. My talk about internal energy was just out of regret. If only you had been born in a decent sect, at least a middle-rank one, instead of this golden third-rate sect, you would’ve been widely recognized in the Central Plains as a prodigy.”
I shook my head. Though Gwak Jindo didn’t know, it was clear my achievements so far were due to my lower dantian.
If I had entered a middle-rank sect as he suggested, my lower dantian wouldn’t have opened.
Honestly, I also partly thought about how pure the Murim Alliance or other sects truly were.
“You may be my disciple now, but unless the Jangmunin knows about it, you’re not properly registered. So you can’t use the Yeongongbu’s spiritual medicine.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need it.”
“Are you one of those foolish types who thinks that because the spiritual medicine isn’t fully your own power, you can use shortcuts?”
I ignored Gwak Jindo’s words, stood up from where I was sitting, and brushed the dirt off my pants.
Of course, I believed I needed internal energy. To learn more advanced martial arts, it was fundamentally necessary.
But I was currently refusing the spiritual medicine for a reason. It wasn’t, as Gwak Jindo implied, due to a mental block.
At least for now, Gwak Jindo had to be by my side. In a way, this was the most dangerous time.
“I know your talent is noble, but the help of spiritual medicine isn’t entirely bad. Of course, those born into famous clans who rely on spiritual medicine without talent earn scorn.”
Regardless of any misunderstanding from Gwak Jindo, I walked to the center of the training ground and drew my sword planted in the ground. My body was quickly freed from the bruises, and unless I overdid it, I could go several more rounds.
“Starting already? Your body must still be stiff. If you push too hard, you’ll break down.”
“It’s manageable.”
I thought about the swiftly shooting flow of water. Even in the sea, there were places where currents ran fast.
In an instant, Haeunmubong, Honggokyusu, and Iryeonmanjang unfolded. The movements resembled the ever-changing sea.
Haeunmubong unleashed a shooting water column, Honggokyusu’s great sword strokes lightly skimmed the water surface like a gliding eagle wave, and Iryeonmanjang was like a vast expanse of gently flowing water—a full sword technique.
“Hoo.”
I could unfold them quickly like this. However, when Gwak Jindo taught me, he said it was more important to clearly map out the sword’s path than to unfold rapidly, so I focused mainly on that.
When I tried moving faster, even the four primary forms seemed manageable, so I swung lightly, but my internal energy soon ran out and I experienced dizziness.
I planted my sword firmly in the center and leaned my back against its flat side.
“What’s the rush?”
Gwak Jindo stood before me. Looking up, he was robust, solidly built in every direction.
“What do you mean?”
“With your talent, even though you’re running faster than anyone, why are you pushing yourself so hard?”
I paused to think. It was a question I hadn’t considered.
First, knowing my talent was fully mine must have had some influence.
But the greater influence was probably from my past life. I gathered my thoughts and spoke.
“If you don’t walk today…”
“Tomorrow you’ll have to run? You’re already running.”
Gwak Jindo interrupted me, causing me to stop briefly. When he finished, I continued.
“Tomorrow, your legs might break. Then you’ll regret not walking today.”
Despair always arrives unexpectedly. Many people knew this, but only a few prepared for it.
I closed my eyes. Gwak Jindo was about to interrogate me again.
But no matter how long I closed my eyes, I felt nothing in my body. Only then did I open my eyes. Gwak Jindo was sitting far away, silently watching me.
“What are you doing? You should be interrogating me.”
I asked immediately. Gwak Jindo said,
“I won’t.”
“Why?”
“I’m trying to rest a little.”
Gwak Jindo closed his eyes. After that, no matter what I said, he didn’t respond. I didn’t urge him either, unsure what sudden change this was.
I closed my eyes again. At that moment, a sleepiness I hadn’t felt even with my instincts swept over my entire body.
***
The sunlight poured down so brightly it made my eyes sting. I bolted upright.
I was lying on the bed in Okmyogak. Twisting my body to look out the window, the sun seemed to be at about a 45-degree angle.
I got up and leaned against the window frame, looking outside. The willow trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches like a woman’s flowing hair.
I opened the window. The breeze, borrowing fragrance from the willows, brushed past me.
Feeling the wind, I gradually began to recall whether I had eaten something before sleeping.
“Must’ve been tough, huh.”
Well, what I refined in my past life was not the body but the mind.
The mental pain was so intense that I ignored all signals sent by the body. But even that had its limits.
I loosened my hands, shoulders, and legs. It felt as if I’d been wearing a Sanyang —a sand pouch—but my body was much lighter. Now, if I tried again, the results would surely be better.
If I had swung the sword throughout the entire time, I wouldn’t have lasted.
I closed the window, put on a new Po-ui, and was about to leave the room. But before I could even grasp the door handle, my door was pushed open.
Standing there was my eldest brother, Geumwolsang. Before I could speak, he grabbed my shoulder.
“My brother. You’ve been well.”
Geumwolsang, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time, was smiling brightly. I returned his smile lightly.
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