110
Learning the Wind
From the morning, the wind was different that day.The trees of Guwol Mountain twisted hard, groaning under its force.The sky pressed down dark and heavy.Rain was clearly on its way.
Iwol-gun silently covered the firewood blaze.Then he looked at Park Seong-jin and said,"Today, you will go outside. You must see the wind."
He did not ask the meaning.Park Seong-jin took up his sword and climbed along the ridgeline.
Each time the wind blew, it felt as though his face would tear,snow mixing in and whipping past.The clouds did not drift;they hung low, moving as if colliding with the ground.
After walking a long while, he stood atop a rock.Below him, all the trees of the mountain were shaking wildly.The roaring sound went beyond sound—it was the presence of a colossal being breathing.The entire mountain felt like a living, moving respiration.
He realized then:this whole land was one enormous living creature,and he himself was a small dot standing upon its back.
He raised his sword.
At first, he 펼쳐 familiar techniques.Heup-ji-pa.Inhaling, pausing, exhaling—a method of connecting breath to the sword's tip.
But at some point, the wind wrapped around him.His hair whipped.His clothes flapped violently.
He felt his body being shaken,yet it was not the wind that shook his body.His body was dissolving into the wind.
He stopped moving.Then he inhaled.
At that moment, the wind entered.
Not through ears or nose—it seeped in through his entire skin.The wind touched the ends of his flesh.That wind soon became blood, circulating inside him.
The energy within his body interlocked with the breath filling the mountain.The boundary between inhalation and exhalation disappeared.
It was not the sensation of drinking the wind.The wind was passing through him.
When he opened his eyes, the world was moving slowly.The arc of a single leaf swaying was distinct.The weight of a single falling raindrop was clear.Even the minute tremors of empty air felt as if he could grasp them.
He swung his sword.
Yet it was not the blade that moved.The wind moved instead.
That motion lay outside the bounds of technique.Heaven and earth connected.Between them, a human body flowed as a single line.
When the wind blew, the body tilted.When the wind ceased, even breath stopped.Within that stillness, the entire world was breathing together.
The sense of time unraveled into flow.
Soon, rain began to fall.His clothes were soaked through.Yet no chill entered him.
He could clearly feel the cold rainwater running over his body,seeping deep into the dantian.
Then, from afar, Iwol-gun's voice reached him.
"Do you understand now?"
Park Seong-jin slowly nodded."Yes. I think I understand a little, now."
Iwol-gun continued,"Humans come from the earth and return to the wind.Everything learned in between is study.One returns to nature."
Park Seong-jin lowered his sword.The rain-soaked blade glimmered softly.That light went beyond the sheen of steel.It looked like a trace left by the sky brushing past.
He knew then:it was not that the day had changed,but that he was breathing the same day differently.And that every one of those momentswas already at the very heart of study.
When the Secular World Beckons Again
That day, too, began with the same familiar flow.Mist filled the valley.Water ran with its usual sound.
Park Seong-jin swept the yard, drew water, chopped wood—opening the day as always.Outwardly, the scene had not changed.
Yet that day, the mountain's breath had a different texture.The stillness was deeper,and instead of closure, a sense of opening seeped through.
It was around noon.
From the lower mountain path came an unfamiliar sound—not wind, not beast, but the presence of people.Footsteps.Heavy breathing, slipping on stones as they climbed.
Park Seong-jin stopped his hands.Holding the axe, he took one breath and listened.
The mountain silently made space for them.No obstruction, no urging—only quiet.
Soon, two figures appeared between the trees.Their clothing did not belong to mountain dwellers.The marks of a long journey were clear.
"We heard there is a hermitage here."
The voice was careful.That carefulness carried a clear purpose.
Park Seong-jin bowed in greeting.He spared his words.
In that moment, he was already aware of how he had changed.In the past, questions would have come first.Now, breath moved first.
"We have words to deliver to Master Iwol-gun."
At those words, something within his chest trembled faintly—above the dantian,at the place where one meets the world again.
Iwol-gun stepped out from the hermitage.It was a face already known to the visitors.
"You've come."
Just that.No surprise, no delight mixed in—the manner of meeting a bond long since set.
The man took out a sealed document from his robes.The seal was from Gaegyeong.
The moment Park Seong-jin saw the emblem,he felt a familiar scent of the secular world—not blood and steel,but the scent of words and writing,the smell of command and duty.
"The court is seeking people.The war has ended, but much remains to be done."
An excuse.Another war.
Iwol-gun did not take the document.He looked at Park Seong-jin.
"The letter has come for you."
There was no judgment in his gaze.It neither held nor pushed away.
Park Seong-jin closed his eyes for a moment.The mountain's breath was still circulating within him.
Through that breath, forgotten faces passed by—his mother's hands,the village's gaze,nameless soldiers fallen on the battlefield,unfinished words.
The mountain's stillness remained deep.It no longer felt like a place of escape from the world,but a place of preparation for going down.
He took the document.He did not break the seal.The letter rested against his chest.
Iwol-gun said,"The mountain is not a place to flee.It is only a place to gather the strength to return."
Park Seong-jin nodded.The flow of breath continued evenly.Now that breath was directed toward both mountain and world.
The secular world was beckoning.And he was already prepared to answer that call.