Lady So-gun's Aid
"Does the end of martial arts leave nothing but bloodstained regret?"
After a long silence, Lee So-gun finally spoke.
Her eyes were lifted toward the distant sky.
When people seek answers that cannot be found, they look upward.
They do so because the ground beneath their feet yields none.
"If it is war… then yes.
When one becomes a killing fiend and wanders the plains of Haran, everything in the world that once invited affection begins to look empty.
Like a patient who has lost his sense of taste and no longer knows the sweetness of confections, one may lose the ability to recognize small and precious values.
It was truly so then.
It was the fault of war.
Only regret remained.
I do not wish to live by the sword.
I refuse to become someone else's blade.
To serve as the Emperor's sword, or as the vanguard of rebellion, is to become a sacrifice in the calculations of political intrigue.
I will not become such a blade."
"I have thought deeply about why the General left.
What would I have done?
Had I possessed the strength, I would have slain the Black Blades and the usurping Emperor.
Yet perhaps that is excessive.
The Grand General must have thought of his family and household.
My father would have done the same.
So he must have stopped at a certain point.
If one returns to oneself and raises one's own boundary through study, another world may come into view.
I already sense a part of it.
New experiences may bring new perception, and ultimately enlightenment."
"So you divide the laws of the world in two?
Human society rests upon interdependence.
We wear garments others have made and eat grain others have grown.
Depending on the nature of the bond, we may call it dependence or exchange.
To dismiss it all as exploitation and intrigue is not just.
When we look at the worst of politics, your words hold truth.
But the world of people contains far more than that.
There are good people.
There are good relationships…."
So-un nodded.
"You are right.
Relationships take many forms.
What I resist is not relationship itself, but politics.
To pass the civil examination and enter official life is inevitably to step into politics.
Now is not that time for me.
Perhaps a day will come when serving in office and acting upon one's convictions is something to take pride in.
A day when one need not feel shame for what one hopes and desires.
But to pass the examination now and become the current Emperor's instrument—that is not my path."
His answer was firm.
He was no ignorant child.
He understood the boundary of reality.
He refused office because the world itself was wrong.
"Then what will you do now?
If the world is wrong, is idling within it not wrong as well?"
Her question struck at the heart.
It was the unavoidable question of a lifetime.
To point out injustice is easy.
To offer a solution is not.
So-un felt the same hesitation.
He wished to defer the answer.
To speak it aloud felt as though the world that formed him might collapse.
Yet the question demanded a reply.
"For now, I cultivate martial arts, and I wish to see its end.
When I studied as a scholar, it was to become a magistrate.
Now I believe martial cultivation is a path toward human completion.
I wish to go to its very end.
Study is a bridge that carries me across.
The sword and study are the same."
So-gun's tone sharpened.
"The world is flawed, so you will perfect yourself instead.
Is that your solution?"
"I must continue to study to know fully.
But I believe there may be another reason to live.
To elevate oneself into something higher.
In this world, it is something I can do, something I do well, something I love, and something necessary."
So-gun listened without dismissing a single word.
Few live according to what they truly believe to be right and good.
"You think deeply, So-un."
He smiled like a child again.
"Right now, I hardly think at all.
I am absorbed in a martial discipline called Chongram.
When I rest, when I sleep, even in battle, I think of nothing else.
I am sinking deeper into it.
This thought is more important to me than my future path.
I do not know what it is.
I do not even strongly desire to define it.
There is a subtle current that feels almost tangible, as though it has form.
I cannot say what it is, yet I feel I might understand.
It is difficult to put into words.
This thought…"
He did not finish.
Thoughts bred further thoughts.
He forgot even that So-gun stood before him.
Beneath the moonlit spring sky, leaning against the railing, he drifted inward.
The thread of conversation dissolved, and he slipped into stillness.
So-gun knew what this was.
She had once heard of it.
When one crosses a boundary, form and technique lose importance.
Practice itself matters less than thought.
Thought follows thought endlessly.
Many are called masters, yet true mastery begins only after transcending a realm.
Yes.
So-un was crossing into the realm of Hwagyeong.
But how could this be?
He had trained only a few months.
Yet he stood at its threshold.
If this were true, much became clear—
his victories as a boy-general,
his confrontation with the Imperial Black Blades,
his brilliance in training at Surim Mountain Villa.
His internal energy was slight.
But attainment is not measured by quantity alone.
So-gun rose quietly.
He did not notice.
No one could say when he would return from that inward passage.
She withdrew softly.
This was a time that required solitude.
Calm surroundings, pure energy, a good master, worthy companions—
none alone could guarantee such a crossing.
She realized her earlier insistence on examination study had been misplaced.
He was passing through a greater gate.
She summoned Mirang and gave careful instructions.
Do not disturb him if he remains still.
Do not speak to him unnecessarily.
Do not force him to follow the household schedule.
Prepare simple meals when he wakes.
Watch from a distance.
Keep space.
If he falls into contemplation or swings his sword, do not approach.
Returning to her quarters, she searched through martial texts.
She studied passages on Hwagyeong, on boundaries, on completion.
She memorized descriptions of signs that appear at such thresholds.
There was little practical guidance.
Records spoke only of masters behaving strangely.
They required solitude.
They often neglected food, sleep, and daily life.
Someone had to tend to those matters for them.
Space, attendants, and above all, the guidance of one who had already crossed Hwagyeong—
that would be ideal.
But where could such a master be found?
Across the vast continent, how many even knew how many there were?
In a single era, perhaps one or two at most.
The conversation with So-gun had drawn So-un deeper still.
Crossing Hwagyeong was not a mere transformation of muscle or body.
It was an elevation of the spirit, inseparable from the flesh.
Perhaps the spiritual ascent was the greater driving force of all.