289.
"What Have You Come Here to Seek?" — A Dialogue Between Yun Dam and Song I-sul
It was after Park Seong-jin's party had finished preparing to depart.
The soldiers secured the boats.
The horses were loaded with baggage.
In the midst of this, Yun Dam slowly stepped out before the pavilion.
"May I ask that one warrior remain for a moment?"
At his words, Park Seong-jin nodded.
"Sir Song I-sul, please stay and speak with the Daoist for a while."
Park Seong-jin walked ahead toward the river, leaving only the two behind at the temple.
The wind brushed the leaves.
The shadows of trees stretched long.
Yun Dam regarded Song I-sul quietly.
"You have the eyes of one who faces battle."
Song I-sul gave a brief smile.
"I fight while carrying fear, like any other."
Yun Dam nodded.
"One who carries fear sees the end."
At those words, Song I-sul's smile stiffened.
For a moment, Yun Dam seemed like a charlatan who beguiled others with cryptic speech.
"The 'way to win without fighting' that you speak of," Song I-sul said,
"lies far from men like us.
We survive through battle."
Yun Dam nodded again.
"You are one who knows death."
Song I-sul's gaze darkened.
Yun Dam closed his eyes briefly, then asked,
"Why did you come to this land?"
"We received orders."
"And from where did those orders come?"
"From the court."
"And what did the court hope to achieve through those orders?"
Song I-sul fell silent for a moment.
"They sought to maintain balance between Yuan and Ming.
If the chaos here grows, the flames spread north.
They wanted a lasting measure for peace."
Yun Dam smiled gently.
"That is the will of the court.
Now tell me—what is your will?"
Song I-sul murmured low.
He had believed that acting according to the court's will was a way of repaying the state.
That it would become the groundwork for enduring peace.
"When would we have the leisure to think of such things?
Surviving, and winning—that alone is already too much."
"That is precisely why I ask," Yun Dam said.
"Just once, try setting your own will."
His gaze pierced straight through Song I-sul.
"Did you truly come to stop the fighting,
or did you come to secure your place within this chaos?"
Song I-sul's face hardened.
"Do you doubt us?"
Yun Dam's voice remained calm.
"Not doubt—observation.
There are two kinds of people in this world:
those who seek to change it,
and those who profit from the moment when it changes."
He took a few slow steps.
"I see both within you.
Park Seong-jin carries the former.
You resemble the latter."
Song I-sul clenched his teeth.
"That sounds like an insult."
Yun Dam shook his head.
"It is not.
To hold the world in place, one needs those who understand profit.
Make clear who that profit belongs to.
Then your blade will carry your fight."
Silence followed.
Song I-sul tried to accept the words as those of a man who had already seen the final outcome.
A bird cried in the distance.
The rusted metal fittings of the bell tower rattled in the wind.
Yun Dam continued.
"You are a clever man.
You can temper the ideal world that Park Seong-jin sees with the eyes of reality.
But remember this."
He raised his gaze to the sky.
"The heavens remain in one place.
Movement belongs to the clouds.
No matter how swiftly clouds race, once the wind passes, they thin and fade."
Song I-sul slowly lifted his head.
"Then… what should people like us do?"
Yun Dam smiled quietly.
"After the wind passes, leave a single footprint upon the earth."
"What does that mean?
You do not speak plainly—it is hard to understand."
"The earth remembers.
Who passed, and what they stepped upon.
If you leave the trace of a human being, that itself becomes a fragment of the Dao."
Yun Dam inclined his head.
"You may go now.
If you remain beside Park Seong-jin,
your footprints will remain alongside his."
Song I-sul bowed without a word.
Confusion still lingered in his eyes—
but that confusion had already begun to turn into a question.
As he turned to leave the temple, Yun Dam's voice called from behind.
"Song the warrior—one more thing."
Song I-sul stopped.
"The force that moves the world does not reside in wisdom alone.
It resides in the courage to listen to wisdom."
Nonsense again—words as cryptic as husks of grain eaten by spirits.
Song I-sul decided the man had simply lived in isolation too long,
and would likely improve with time.
That, too, was why people must live within society.
The wind shook the temple's eaves.
The sound, like the slow surge of an ancient sea, gently pressed against his back.
Song I-sul left the temple without another word.
Crossing the threshold, he turned back without meaning to.
Yun Dam was still seated at the pavilion.
He did not rise quickly, as if lost in thought.
His figure was calm even within the wind—
still as a single brushstroke in a landscape painting.