The Mountain Estate — In the Forest
"Alright, Scholar Yu. Begin."
Gunmyeong took So-un's belongings.
He slung over his own shoulder the bow, the quiver, and even the small cavalry ring that held the miscellaneous items carried when serving as a forward scout, leaving So-un with only his sword.
He meant to make So-un do the cutting.
So-un steadied his breathing, recalling the sensation of the previous night.
He pictured the path of the blade and recited the mnemonic verses under his breath.
That elusive feeling—almost grasped yet not—was not limited to drawing a sword.
The ancient verses were the same, and so was the ultimate secret of inner focus.
Something achieved once by chance rarely comes again on command.
Some dismiss it as mere luck rather than skill, yet matters that hover on subtle boundaries do not yield identical results each time.
What if it doesn't work?
The doubt flickered through him.
But once he began, a blue current gathered, and his shoulders and arms moved together with the sword.
What had been unclear flashed through his mind like a beam of light.
He could not name it.
He guided that current to the sword tip and struck the towering tree blocking his way.
He cut diagonally on purpose so it would fall cleanly.
The blade passed through the thickest part of the trunk, and with a thunderous crash, the tree collapsed.
A trunk as thick as a man's body fell in a single stroke.
"Wah! What! Hey—!"
Every kind of shout a single man could produce echoed through the forest.
Gunmyeong yelled as he dodged the falling tree.
He could have stood at a distance, yet he clung close, darting here and there, making a racket.
So-un brushed aside the smaller branches tangled in the fallen trunk and advanced.
Another tree blocked him.
He struck again.
The same form, repeated.
The blade fell, and another trunk crashed down.
After advancing several paces, Gunmyeong shouted from behind.
"Cut the one on the left! Not that one—the left!"
Unlike the night before, So-un heard him clearly.
Yesterday he had been so immersed that nothing reached him.
Now he seemed a step beyond that state.
He cut the tree on the left.
Gunmyeong began to worry.
Such an ability—to slice trees cleanly as if trimming twigs—was not common.
Even if one possessed it, the effort must be immense.
He felt ridiculous, an older man ordering a boy to cut trees while barking directions from behind.
Yet he could not waste So-un's effort.
He adjusted the direction carefully, keeping the path straight.
Strangely, So-un did not appear fatigued.
He seemed almost pleased to train in broad daylight.
The justification suited him well enough to brighten his mood.
He raised the sword, twisted it, struck downward, cut horizontally, deflected, drew in, spun like a windmill.
It seemed as though he had absorbed the entirety of the General Compendium into himself.
The General's movements, Yi Hui's sharpness, and even the deep, slow current of the original text had taken root in him.
He now bore the unmistakable shape of a true warrior.
Learning is not achieved by books alone.
Stories of mastering supreme martial arts by reading a manual are likely inventions.
One needs a master, fellow disciples to sharpen courage, and the talent to receive instruction.
In So-un's case, that talent was curiosity.
He had once pretended to study family martial arts without interest, like a blank sheet of paper.
Curiosity soaked up the original text like cotton absorbing water.
Yi Hui, Jin Mugwang, the Compendium, and real combat—that was all he had been given.
As they widened the path to allow two horses abreast, the forest opened.
Sunlight poured through.
After about half an hour, a clearing suddenly appeared ahead.
"So…"
So-un lowered his sword and stopped.
Is it done?
The thought was brief.
A path lay before them.
"Ha! A road!"
Gunmyeong shouted from behind.
But So-un felt despair.
The "road" Gunmyeong saw was strange.
The wide path, enough for two horses, was the very one So-un had carved from the start.
The end of the path was the beginning.
He had advanced in a straight line without deviation.
Yet the straight line had looped back to its origin.
It was incomprehensible.
Faced with the mystery, So-un faltered.
Dusk was falling.
If they failed to return in time, the others would worry.
So there are things strength cannot overcome.
He steadied his breathing, circulating his internal energy with another recitation.
He moved his body as if tracing sword paths, recovering.
Then he narrowed his eyes and looked to the far end of the path he had cut.
He saw something.
Two figures.
Themselves.
Like hamsters trapped in a wheel, he stared at his own back in the distance.
"So-un! You see it?"
"Yes, Uncle. Two people."
"That's us, isn't it?"
"It can't be… how?"
Gunmyeong climbed onto a rock and jumped up and down.
Far off, something wavered.
It mirrored him, flailing weakly.
At the end of a straight line stood themselves.
They sank down in defeat.
So-un, having expended enormous internal energy, was nearly spent.
Surely martial arts were not meant for such absurdity.
"Haa… haa…"
So-un panted.
Gunmyeong muttered.
"If that's really us over there, then this isn't natural. Whether it's some ancient formation or some damned trick, something's here. Who and why—that's one question. How to escape—that's another. No… perhaps the order is reversed. Solve one, and the other unravels."
To So-un, it sounded like rambling.
He had only done as told.
The effort was far greater than the night before.
His energy felt drained into the earth itself.
Gunmyeong handed him dried meat.
"Let's eat and think. If it's intentional, if the space bends but appears straight… Should we shoot an arrow? Before it gets darker. Maybe light a torch? No, no. A fire arrow? No—that would announce us. We've enemies hunting us."
"If Uncle Cheongyun were here, he'd curse until something answered."
The sun slid down the mountain ridge.
People fail to notice how quickly it falls until it reaches the peaks.
Once caught on the ridge, it sinks fast into the forest, and darkness follows.
They lit a small fire to test the illusion.
Through the carved corridor, they saw another fire burning in the distance.
Only a sigh escaped them.
"Let's rest for now."
68.
The Mountain Estate — Losing the Way
The two men lit a small campfire and chewed on dried meat, deciding to take turns sleeping.
They did not even know where they were, yet they had no choice but to spend the night outdoors.
So-un had exhausted himself, so Gunmyeong told him to sleep first and planned to rest later.
Spring nights were still bitterly cold.
If it was this cold now, how harsh must it have been before spring arrived?
Gunmyeong, who had been keeping watch, dozed off for a moment.
Half-asleep, he thought he heard something.
He blinked, but saw nothing.
When he closed his eyes and listened, a faint rustling reached him.
The sound of cloth brushing against his cheek…
Then he sensed it.
He saw it.
A pale human silhouette briefly blocked the space between the campfire's light and the illusion beyond, then vanished.
He cursed himself for having slept so carelessly.
So-un was still asleep.
Gunmyeong made a decision.
He sprang to his feet, drew his sword, and shouted.
"Who's there! Who dares play tricks!"
Startled by the shout, So-un woke.
"What is it?"
Still half asleep, he asked, but Gunmyeong did not answer.
Sword drawn, he stared ahead, then whipped around sharply.
His silence and rigid posture revealed his tension.
Since nothing was visible in the dark, So-un tossed more dry wood into the fire.
They needed light before they could do anything.
If it's an assassin of the Black Blades…
If the Black Blades had followed them this far—
Before the thought even finished forming, So-un drew his sword.
Holding the blade steadied his heart.
Though he had driven himself to exhaustion earlier, a short sleep had restored him considerably.
A tingling current flowed through his arms.
He could no longer tell whether it came from the sword or from his breath, but he knew the blue energy was with him.
Back-to-back with Gunmyeong, he peered into the darkness.
There was nothing but blackness.
"Uncle, what was it? What did you see?"
Only the faint outline of the path, trees, grass, and the lingering warmth of the wind under moonlight.
No human presence.
"Did you see the King of the Mountains?"
"No. Something passed between me and the fire. I didn't see it clearly… but something was there."
Time stretched endlessly.
There is no time longer than one spent standing still.
So-un did not doubt Gunmyeong's senses.
He was former Imperial Guard, trained in orthodox martial arts, respected even within the White Dragon Unit.
"Uncle."
"What."
Still crouched and ready to fight, though nothing appeared, So-un's curiosity flared again.
"Why did you go to the White Dragon Unit?"
"Is that really the question to ask right now?"
"As Imperial Guard, you protected the Emperor directly. Promotions, salary, prestige—you had them all. Why go to Haran? Did you do something wrong?"
So-un already sensed there was nothing nearby.
He was softening the tension with conversation.
"I volunteered."
"Why?"
"Because I thought that's what a soldier should do. A warrior, at least… something like that. But wait—that's strange. The fire we saw earlier—it's gone."
"What fire?"
"The one at the end of the path. We saw it before. Now it's not there. Look."
"You're right."
"What do you mean 'you're right'?"
"Doesn't that mean it's normal now? Earlier was strange. If it's back to normal, that's good."
"If this is some formation, that means the formation changed."
"I don't believe you can make a formation out of trees and rocks without soldiers. We might have mistaken it. You can block sight with smoke and hide troops behind it, but how do you confuse people with trees just standing there?"
Their back-and-forth seemed endless.
Gunmyeong realized again he was being drawn into So-un's questioning.
"No, So-un. Think. Even if it's impossible in theory, we saw something earlier that isn't there now. That means something changed. Right?"
"Yes."
"If something changed, how? Before, we circled no matter how straight we walked. If we no longer circle, that means we can leave. Use that clever head of yours."
So-un needed no further prompting.
The reasoning was obvious.
"Then let's get out quickly."
"You just said there's no formation, and now you want to escape one?"
"Whatever it is, whatever we call it, we shouldn't stay stuck in a loop."
So-un had grown certain that something unseen was at work.
Though invisible, something capable of altering space was present.
"Yes. Let's get out."
If someone was hiding—someone playing tricks—So-un felt they deserved punishment.
If the formation had not changed, he would not have thought this way.
He deliberately raised his voice.
"If someone is there, playing games with us, then it wouldn't be wrong for me to punish them."
"What are you saying now?"
Gunmyeong asked cautiously, wary of being pulled into another spiral.
"If such a being exists, I'll teach it a lesson."
The boy's voice rang through the forest.
"How?"
"I'll burn this place down. We'll clear a path while we're at it. Dry brush, the gentle wind… burn it all. Then we'll leave once it's ash."
So-un was convinced someone was responsible.
If the formation was man-made and could be altered, then surely the threat of fire would provoke a reaction.
He sheathed his sword and lifted the largest burning log from the campfire.
"Uncle, let's burn it all. Clear a path and kill any cunning beasts hiding here."
Quick-witted, Gunmyeong realized So-un was not threatening him, but someone unseen.
He picked up a flaming branch as well.
So-un had said "cunning beast."
If the hidden presence was not a beast, being called one would sting.
It was a tactic—to provoke anger and force it to appear.
And the mountain was dry.
At the cusp of spring, everything was brittle.
If fire caught the brush, it would spread through the forest in an instant.