Sooner or later, one must descend.
One must face the world.
The moment for that descent was becoming clear.
Lee Wol-gun had always marked the important turning points in advance.
Looking back, the major inflection points of Seong-jin's life had always begun with a single word from his master.
He had gone down when told there was word for him.
When told to return and study, he set aside all matters below the mountain and devoted himself entirely to cultivation.
And now, told once more to descend, he did so again—without asking why.
Fate itself was another form of practice, walked by following those words.
It was an age that measured the world by wealth and advancement.
But when life was read instead through the measure of learning and cultivation, the conclusion was simple.
One climbs to learn.
One descends to learn again.
One returns to the world to refine what was learned.
Learning begins in the mountains and continues in the world.
Some return again to the mountains after descending.
Others remain in the world.
That direction was still open.
Only one sensation was clear: now was the time.
Time flowed on.
The seasons turned once, then again.
When the season of his original ascent returned, he realized that more than a year had passed.
He was seventeen that summer.
A strange sense of season settled in him.
When had he left Jiangnan? He could no longer remember.
More precisely, he could not recall the temperature or the wind of that time.
No summons had arrived during his stay in the mountains.
The time when he might have been called had ripened, yet no word came.
Even the months that should have held several mobilizations had passed like arrows in flight.
It felt as though he had only stepped into the mountains for a few days.
Time was relative.
Human perception of time even more so.
A thought brushed past him.
Perhaps his senior brother, Lee In-jung, had intervened.
Perhaps he had been watching this course of study and quietly supporting it.
Standing where the mountain gate came into view, Seong-jin paused and watched the shadows of clouds drift by.
Then, as if setting his resolve, he turned.
He headed toward the military camp.
There, the world awaited once more.
At the Threshold of the Secular World — Back Among People
The moment he left the mountain, the texture of the air changed.
Among the scent of earth, the smell of people seeped in.
The cries of roosters and barking of dogs that once echoed from below now sounded close at hand.
Human voices, market calls, splashing water, the smell of burning charcoal—all rushed in at once.
Seong-jin stopped walking.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Familiarity and novelty rose together.
The sounds he had once passed by now lingered.
More precisely, the core meaning carried within those sounds became tangible.
People spoke endlessly, yet now he could feel the weight of what lay beneath their words:
inevitable desires, the exhaustion of daily survival, and the warmth that bloomed in the narrow spaces between.
I am not the only one who is weary.
That realization comforted him.
There were those who worried for his weariness, and because of them he endured the present.
All of this entered him at once.
To know another's heart—this must be what it means.
Roadside inns newly built lined the path.
Children kicked straw balls as they played.
An old woman passed by carrying a basket of rice toward the market.
Watching her bent back, his heart moved quietly.
"I, too, am one person within that world."
His master's words returned to him.
"The stillness of the mountains is easy to learn.
The stillness of the secular world is deeper, and deeper still."
Now the meaning was clear.
To steady one's heart among people—
that was what his master had sent him to learn.
As he continued down the road, the distant sound of drums reached him.
A military camp.
Those of us who find the camp more familiar than the world—
perhaps we have lived our lives incorrectly.
Standard-bearers waved their flags.
Soldiers marched in formation.
With those sounds, the sensation of the battlefield resurfaced.
Seong-jin stood still for a long moment.
Then he resumed walking.
His steps were neither light nor heavy.
From now on, his study was not directed toward the sword,
but toward the human heart.
And so he walked back into the world.
Reunion — Meeting Lee In-jung, and the Whirlwind of Real Politics
The gates of Gaegyeong still stood tall and imposing.
If General Gang Gam-chan built the outer walls, how were they breached so easily by the Red Turbans?
This is not the time for such thoughts, he scolded himself—
yet his mind still analyzed reality in military terms.
It was a habit left by war.
Inside the gates, the air was unmistakably different.
Military banners snapped violently in the wind.
New proclamations were layered thickly along the streets.
The political climate felt fast and brutal.
Seong-jin guided his horse into the city.
The roads were the same as years ago, yet the stone beneath his feet felt new.
Anxiety lingered on people's faces.
Names rose and fell, then sank back into silence.
The war had ended, but the battlefield had shifted—
to words and documents.
Lee In-jung, Grand General of the Signal Guard.
Since the Jiangnan campaign, his name stood at the center of court politics.
On the battlefield, he ruled through decisive action;
in court, through responsibility.
He now bore the strongest headwinds—
caught between remnants of Yuan authority and rising reformists.
When Seong-jin announced himself at the door, the guard immediately bowed.
"The General has been expecting you."
He knew I was coming?
Crossing the threshold, the texture of the air changed again.
Inside was tension no different from the battlefield.
Commanders stood with bowed heads.
Clerks hurried documents back and forth.
Lee In-jung stood leaning against the military table.
His face was leaner, deeper than before.
"It's been a long time, Seong-jin."
At those words, many years passed in a single breath.
Seong-jin smiled broadly and bowed.
"Senior Brother, have you been well?"
"Well? I wish I could finally be well.
The war has ended, yet things have grown harder.
The fight has only changed its shape and location."
Sealed documents lay scattered across the table:
'Remnants of Yuan', 'Envoy of Zhang Shicheng', 'Ministry of Rites Minutes'.
The embers of a new era.
"The court is unstable," Lee In-jung said quietly.
"I heard relations with Yuan have been settled."
"Many misunderstandings… the shadow is lifting.
Old trees have deep roots."
"And deep misunderstandings as well?"
Seong-jin recalled the atmosphere in Dadu when Goryeo forces withdrew without word.
"Dadu must be the problem."
"Of course. They've been relentless."
After a pause, Seong-jin asked the name he had been most curious about.
"What became of Zhang Shicheng?"
"He surrendered to Yuan."
Seong-jin froze.
"Surrendered?"
"Dalashitimur led an army south. Zhang yielded.
He received the title of Grand Commandant."
It was hard to believe.
"He's preparing to rise again," Lee In-jung continued.
"A person's nature does not change so easily. He will rebel again when the time comes."
His voice sank lower.
"I am now fighting on two fronts—
the enemy outside, and the people within."
Fatigue and responsibility clung to him.
Seong-jin glanced around the command hall.
Though merely a martial officer, he was no longer ignored.
He bowed carefully to each figure present.
His master's words returned to him:
"The world is harsher than the mountains,
and the human heart deeper than water."
Lee In-jung was searching for a path in that deep water.
"It's good you've returned," he said.
"We need more people like you for the country to stand."
"Senior Brother, I intend to follow the path of study rather than battle."
"A study that saves people. The same study."
Seong-jin smiled faintly.
A trumpet sounded outside.
Lee In-jung gathered the documents.
"The winds of court change constantly.
Keep the stillness you learned in the mountains—even here."
"And you?"
"I won't return to the mountains. There is too much to do."
Seong-jin bowed deeply.
As he left the tent, the evening sun spread red across the western sky.
The same sky he had seen every day atop the mountain
now stretched long over the capital.
---*
Annotations — Buddhist & Daoist Correspondence (Chapter 172)
[1] Descent from the mountain (하산, 下山)
In both Buddhism and Daoism, descent from retreat signifies the transition from inner cultivation to engagement with the world.
In Buddhism, this aligns with entering the marketplace after awakening (入世行).
In Daoism, it corresponds to returning from seclusion to act in accordance with the Dao (出山應世).
[2] Learning in the world (세속에서의 공부)
Buddhism emphasizes that wisdom is completed through compassion and action among sentient beings (利他行).
Daoism views worldly engagement as a testing ground where internal harmony must remain undisturbed by external movement.
[3] Time as relative (시간의 상대성)
This reflects the Buddhist insight that time is a construct of perception (無常觀).
Daoism similarly treats time as a function of natural cycles rather than linear measurement.
[4] Stillness within movement (동중정, 動中靜)
Buddhist meditation teachings describe maintaining mindfulness amid activity (行住坐臥皆修).
Daoist practice emphasizes preserving inner stillness while acting naturally (守一而動).
[5] Familiarity with the military camp (전장에 익숙함)
This contrasts conditioned habit (業習) with conscious choice.
Buddhism interprets this as karmic imprint remaining after experience.
Daoism sees it as residue of prior alignment that must be softened, not rejected.
[6] Reading the hearts of people (사람의 마음을 읽음)
In Buddhism, this reflects deepened compassion born from insight into suffering (苦諦).
Daoism interprets it as attunement to the natural emotions arising within the human field.
[7] Human desire and fatigue (욕망과 고단함)
Buddhist teaching frames desire as a condition of suffering rather than a moral fault.
Daoism recognizes desire as part of human nature that must be regulated, not extinguished.
[8] Politics as a new battlefield (말과 문서의 전장)
This corresponds to Buddhism's view that conflict persists through form even when violence ends.
Daoism regards political struggle as a manifestation of imbalance in collective qi.
[9] Two fronts: external and internal enemies (밖과 안의 적)
In Buddhism, the internal enemy refers to afflictions such as attachment and aversion (煩惱).
Daoism similarly warns that disorder within invites disorder without.
[10] The refusal to return to the mountain (산으로 돌아가지 않음)
This reflects the bodhisattva vow to remain in the world rather than withdraw after realization.
In Daoism, it signals commitment to responsive action (應化), abandoning personal completion for balance in the whole.
[11] Keeping mountain stillness in the world (산의 고요를 지킴)
Buddhist teachings emphasize non-duality between meditation and daily life (定慧一如).
Daoism frames this as maintaining original simplicity amid complexity (守樸).
[12] The unchanged sky (같은 하늘)
This symbolizes the Buddhist notion that ultimate reality remains constant despite changing conditions.
Daoism similarly uses the sky as an image of the Dao: present everywhere, altered by nothing.