306.
The One Who Crossed the Wall
Dawn mist wrapped the ramparts.
As birds rose in a single sweep from the military fields of Yangzhou, two shadows faced each other in the courtyard beneath the walls.
They were Park Seong-jin and Yi In-jung.
There was not a single breath to be heard.
Only the flow of air divided the two.
Yi In-jung spoke quietly.
"You haven't held a blade for some time."
Park Seong-jin replied.
"I was busy. And it was peaceful."
Yi In-jung continued.
"Your eyes have changed. Before, they were eyes that sought battle. Now… they are eyes that wait for something."
Park Seong-jin smiled.
"Hm. I suppose they are quite different from before."
Yi In-jung drew his sword first.
The sound of metal sliding rang through the morning mist.
Park Seong-jin slowly lifted his blade.
The tip of his sword did not tremble.
At first, it was a simple crossing.
The tips brushed with a light ch'ang of steel.
But soon, the air changed.
It felt as though not the air, but space itself followed the arcs of the blades.
Yi In-jung's toes shifted ever so slightly.
He cut upward, as if cleaving the sky.
Park Seong-jin let it pass, as if sweeping aside the wind.
The metals met, yet did not collide.
Between sword and sword lay an unseen interval.
It was the interposing force of qi.
The currents pressed against each other, dispersing rather than crashing.
Yi In-jung was startled.
Extraordinary. He's not merely deflecting—he's containing me.
Park Seong-jin's sword flowed like water.
When Yi In-jung applied force, the force drained away.
When he pressed forward, the sword tip was already gone.
Words slipped from Yi In-jung's mouth.
"He doesn't block qi. He circulates it…"
He immediately changed trajectory and thrust toward Park Seong-jin's flank.
But in that instant, Park Seong-jin's body stepped aside one breath earlier.
Before the blade could touch, the path was already sealed.
Park Seong-jin's voice sounded calm.
"Are you still trying to break the wall?"
Yi In-jung breathed hard.
"If you don't break it, how do you pass through?"
Park Seong-jin answered.
"You melt the wall. If you melt it with time—"
Yi In-jung cut him off.
"With endless waiting?"
At that moment, Park Seong-jin's sword moved.
It was slow.
Yet there was no way to evade it.
The blade descended as if grazing Yi In-jung's shoulder.
Its tip gently pressed down on Yi In-jung's sword tip.
A moment of stillness stood.
Yi In-jung closed his eyes.
The blade had stopped.
Slowly, he lowered his hand.
"I've lost."
Park Seong-jin shook his head.
"There is no winning or losing.
Only the fight has vanished."
"…Remarkable."
The boy who once learned from me has now passed beyond me.
He felt it clearly.
This was no exchange of formulas, no trading of techniques.
Qi had already surpassed skill.
The mist lifted.
The eastern sky brightened.
Yi In-jung looked at Park Seong-jin for a moment, then gave a short laugh.
"You see farther than I do now."
Park Seong-jin offered a formal bow.
"What I saw was the end of the road you guided me along."
Yi In-jung nodded.
"Good. From that end, open another road.
The sword is carried forward, and so are people."
At that moment, someone was watching them from the ramparts.
It was Yun Dam.
A deep light shone in his eyes.
He murmured, as if to himself.
"The sword no longer governs people.
People govern the sword with the heart."
He raised his brush and recorded:
「武之極 無戰也」
— The ultimate of martiality is the absence of battle.
That dawn, blades did not collide.
Two hearts touched one another.
That touch ran deeper than war.
It was a time of recognizing difference.
Yi In-jung's Congratulation — "The Joy of One Who Did Not Cross"
When the morning mist fully cleared, both sword tips were already lowered.
Yi In-jung's shoulders rose and fell once.
A deep breath escaped him.
Silence lingered.
He sheathed his sword.
The brief sound of metal locking rang out.
"Seong-jin."
When he spoke the name, there was no command, no rebuke.
Only a tremor long held down, mixed with warmth.
"I… did not cross this wall."
Yi In-jung's gaze rested on the eastern ridgeline.
"I held a blade for decades, saw blood, crossed battlefields.
And yet, in the end… the sword never left my body."
He slowly turned his head.
"But you… at such a young age, you crossed the wall."
Park Seong-jin bowed his head in silence.
"If it were not for you, senior brother,
I would not have even known where the path lay before that wall."
Yi In-jung gave a short laugh.
"No. I only showed you the entrance.
You were the one who walked."
He paused, resting his hand on the scabbard.
His fingers trembled faintly.
"Congratulations."
He continued.
"I still have battles I must fight.
You—go now to where there is no fighting.
Make your road there.
Plant your sword in a world I could not reach."
Park Seong-jin lowered his gaze.
His hand rested quietly on his blade.
"Your footprints remain upon that road.
I will only follow where they lead."
Yi In-jung smiled.
Not as a veteran of war, but as an elder martial to a junior.
"Still, I envy you."
He looked up at the sky.
The dawn light was slowly brightening, seeping into Park Seong-jin's face.
"You now stand ahead of me.
I am proud of you. Truly."
The words were few, but his expression was deeply moved.
Park Seong-jin bowed deeply.
"Thank you, General."
As Yi In-jung turned away, he said,
"No matter how long the road, never lose the hearts of people.
That is the beginning and the end of your sword."
As Yi In-jung receded, Park Seong-jin watched his back for a long while.
It was broad, yet somehow lonely.
No matter what I do, I could not cross it—
yet the young one passed the wall first,
Yi In-jung thought.
Senior brother, because you were there,
I was able to cross this wall,
Park Seong-jin thought in return.
The wind rose.
It wrapped both names and scattered them over the ramparts.
The one who did not cross congratulated the one who did.
That heart remained as Dao (道).
The Martial Confirmation
The day after Park Seong-jin's bout with Yi In-jung, wind once again moved through Yangzhou's courtyard.
Morning sunlight brushed the walls.
Below them stood Song I-sul and several martial men.
All were survivors of battle.
They had honed their arts through years of blood and sweat.
They had watched Park Seong-jin as a comrade, at times as a junior.
Today, a peculiar light mixed in their eyes.
Respect and curiosity intertwined.
A thin thread of fear as well.
Song I-sul stepped forward.
"Seong-jin."
"Yes."
"I saw your bout with the High General.
Your sword has changed."
He took a breath and continued.
"Show us as well.
What kind of sword does the one who crossed the wall wield?"
Park Seong-jin fell silent for a moment.
There was no sign of combat in his eyes.
Quietly, he unfastened the sword at his waist.
"Please, keep it light."
"This rascal—still acting relaxed."
Song I-sul laughed as he drew his blade.
There was no envy in that laugh.
Only the joy of confirming a friend's change.
The martial men formed a circle.
Some had once shown Park Seong-jin their swords.
Others had fought shoulder to shoulder with him.
"Begin!"
At the shout, the two blades crossed.
It was an instant.
Park Seong-jin's sword was soft.
Though his body scarcely moved, the air shifted first.
When Song I-sul thrust, the force drained away before the tips met.
Song I-sul's center collapsed for a heartbeat.
"This… where did it go?"
Park Seong-jin smiled.
"The sword did not vanish.
The mind passed through first."
The second exchange came.
Song I-sul hurled his full strength forward.
Park Seong-jin's sword tip tilted by the slightest margin.
The force returned 그대로.
Song I-sul's sword flew from his hand.
It felt as if he had been repelled—
not by recoil, but as if an outer object (外物) could not enter
the handspan of space occupied by the blade.
We prick with needles, someone thought,
but Seong-jin strikes like a club.
A moment of silence hung.
The martial men swallowed their breaths.
No one had seen strength.
Yet the result was unmistakable.
"This isn't… technique," one murmured.
"There was no movement, and I was already stepping back," another said softly.
"Before the sword moved… the mind blocked me."
Song I-sul picked up his blade and laughed.
"You really did cross the wall."
Breathing hard, he continued.
"I've held a sword for thirty years.
I've never seen a blade like this."
Park Seong-jin spoke quietly.
"The sword has not changed.
Only the mind has.
I no longer try to cut an enemy.
I follow the flow."
"The flow?" Song I-sul asked.
Park Seong-jin pointed to the ground with his sword tip.
"In spring, water flows.
In summer, leaves grow.
It is the same.
When movement is natural, the path opens without force."
Hearing this, the martial men fell silent.
They were men who had learned the world through life and death on the battlefield.
That day, they touched the way of learning with the heart.
Song I-sul laughed loudly.
"Hahaha. Now I must learn from you.
To see Dao at the tip of the sword—who would have thought."
Park Seong-jin bowed his head.
"It is a road we walk together.
If I crossed the wall alone, then it was never a wall."