102
Guwolsan — The First Gate
The mountain seemed close, yet the distance held.The path grew narrower with every step.
Once he passed the last village at the foot of the mountain, human dwellings ceased.Only piles of stone and the wind remained as companions on the road.
Guwolsan was far more massive than it had appeared from afar.As he drew nearer, the ridges overlapped in layers, and mist drifted slowly over them.The wind was cold, yet within it was a distinct vitality.
The white mist coiling through the valleys carried a sacred presence.When he closed his eyes, he could feel breath in every blade of grass.
The mountain path was quiet.Only birdsong, wind, and the sound of the horse's hooves continued low and steady.
Around midday, clear water flowed along a rocky ravine, and beside it a small hermitage appeared.The moss-covered roof tiles were half-collapsed, yet the traces of human habitation were unmistakable.
"Who… is there?"
A low voice drifted from within.
Park Seong-jin turned to see an old man standing there, leaning on a wooden staff.His hair was grizzled, his clothes worn and frayed, but his eyes were clear, like a child's.
"I am looking for the way,"Park Seong-jin said, bowing at the waist.
The old man smiled.
"You've come to the right place."
A quiet smile spread across his lips.
"The place you seek is right here."
There was a tone in his speech as if he were addressing someone he had known for a long time.
Park Seong-jin spoke.
"I have come to study.I wish to learn the sword.I was a soldier, and I have long reflected on certain matters, which led me here."
The old man closed his eyes briefly, then slowly nodded.
"You are one who has crossed the storm of war.There is still the energy of blood upon your body."
Park Seong-jin's gaze wavered slightly.The words sounded as if they carried unease.
He had believed he had already set those things down.
The old man continued.
"I heard of you from Muk-hyeong.The man in black."
"Muk-hyeong…?"
He did not know.Who was it?Who could have known he would come and spoken in advance?
"Yes.He passed through this mountain yesterday and mentioned that you might come this way."
"So his name was Muk-hyeong.I met him at Simsui in Liaodong."
The old man gave a small chuckle.
"To have spoken so much without even knowing his name—he spoke as though you were people who had known each other for ages."
Park Seong-jin dismounted and bowed deeply.Finding that insufficient, he knelt fully on the ground.
"Please allow me to learn."
The old man looked down at him for a long moment, then spoke slowly.
"That is why I was waiting here."
He pointed toward the ravine.
"The mountain is open to anyone.Only those who can endure remain.Go draw water from below.By the taste of that water, we shall decide your place."
Park Seong-jin bowed silentlyand carried the water jar down to the ravine.
The water was ice-cold.His fingertips numbed, but he held the water to his lips.
Within the cold, strangely, there was a hint of sweetness.
When he returned, the old man was seated in the same place.
"How was it?"
"It tasted alive.Cold, vivid, and clear."
The old man nodded.
"Indeed.The water of this mountain is alive."
"And soon, you will be as well."
The meaning was not plainly explained, though it sounded like a natural conclusion.Yet the words did not pass lightly.
Their weight came from context.
The old man rose slowly.
"Now, set down the heavy things.On this mountain, one does not learn mu through the body.One learns through breath."
Park Seong-jin looked at the sword at his waist.After a brief hesitation, he placed it upon a nearby rock.
At that moment, the texture of the wind changed.Leaves stirred, and a bird cried out in the distance.
The old man smiled.
"Now you have truly arrived, child."
At that moment, the wind of Guwolsan wrapped around him as if alive.
Within it, Park Seong-jin felt for the first time an energy not of battle,but of study.
**The Rite of Entering the Mountain (入山儀禮) —
Cleansing the Secular World and Entrusting Oneself to the Mountain**
The old man led Park Seong-jin up the mountain path in the early dawn.The mountain was still, like a beast that had just steadied its breath.
Wind passed through dew-laden pine needles,and the sun lingered beyond the ridgeline.
The light was behind them,but the energy was already awake.
The old man stopped and said,
"To enter this mountain, one must first receive permission.Not the permission of people, but of the mountain itself."
He took a small pouch from his waist.Inside were three sticks of incense, a bottle of clear liquor,and a handful of grain wrapped in white cloth.
"In old times, before entering a mountain, one always announced oneself—to all living energies dwelling within it.People climb mountains, but mountains choose whom they accept."
They stood upon a rock ledge deep in the mountains.It was a natural slab, flat across its top.
The old man swept away last autumn's fallen leavesand wiped the stone with his hand, forming a small altar.
He placed the incense and poured the liquor.As the scent of alcohol spread on the wind,the breath of the forest gathered evenly.
The old man brought his hands togetherand bowed deeply three times.
Park Seong-jin followed.
The first bow was offered to the master of the mountain.The second bow to all living beings that breathed within it.The third bow to the world left behind.
The old man intoned softly,
"O spirits of the blue mountain,receive this young man today.He has set down a blood-stained bladeand come seeking the Way with a clear heart.Let him learn the mountain's breath,and with that breath, bring life and benefit to others."
Park Seong-jin closed his eyes.
Though he did not believe in such ritual words,the mountain wind came,touching his shoulders like an unseen hand.
At that moment, something deep within his chestslowly loosened and melted away.
The old man lifted the bottle.
"This is the final rite.Take one sip into your body,and return one sip to the earth."
Park Seong-jin lifted the liquor.As it touched his lips, a cold, clear fragrance spread.
He slowly poured the remaining liquor beneath the rock.
The earth quietly accepted it.
The old man said,
"You have now left the secular worldand stand upon the threshold.If you remain and learn, this mountain will accept you.If you leave, the mountain will close its door once more."
He murmured something in an unfamiliar tongue,like a spell spoken low.Names of heaven and earth, ancient signals,mingled and flowed through the wind.
At last, the old man bowed deeply toward the mountain.
"The rite of entering the mountain ends here."
As those words settled,a wind rose somewhere in the forest.
Pine needles shook all at once,and several birds burst into flight.
At that moment, sunlight crossed the ridgelineand touched the tips of their feet for the first time.
The old man said,
"The mountain has called your name.Now, let us enter."
Park Seong-jin lifted his head.
Ahead lay a narrow mountain path,leading into the mist.
The moment he stepped onto it,he understood—
from now on,the struggle would beginwithin himself.