The Visit – A Letter from Hwang Hak (黃鶴)
"So now you mean to lecture me?"
Hwang Hak's voice sank low, yet beneath it something boiled.
The tip of his beard trembled faintly.
The surrounding air felt pressed down and heavy.
"It does not seem a matter that can be settled with a lecture,"
Soun replied calmly.
"You do not even hear what is being said.
Perhaps your ears should be opened first."
For a split second, Jimin's heart seemed to stop.
The wind over Namsan stilled into silence.
The distance between the two men had not shortened by a single inch, yet the tension already met like blades at their tips.
Even Hwang Hak—renowned for his mild temperament—felt anger surge at Soun's harsh words.
To be cursed to his face by a mere youth set his inner fire (心火) bubbling.
The atmosphere shifted.
The air grew heavier, as if compressed.
In all the jianghu he had traversed, nothing like this had happened.
When Hwang Hak appeared, people bowed at the waist.
They observed courtesy.
They offered before he asked.
Before his name, explanation was unnecessary.
But this was different.
The boy before him did not bend in the slightest.
"Why would you stake your life on such a matter!"
Hwang Hak's voice resounded low.
The air on the mountainside rippled outward.
"Because precious people are there."
Soun's answer was short. His gaze did not waver.
"And it is not I who stakes a life.
It is you, Elder."
Hwang Hak's eyes flashed.
"Where?"
He steadied his breath before asking again.
"The Jin estate?"
His voice dropped further.
"Who… Jin Mugwang?"
At the name Jin Mugwang, Soun's eyes snapped open.
Who would dare utter the Great General's name so lightly?
There was a custom called pihui—one did not speak a respected person's name directly.
Those of high rank or virtue were addressed by title or honorific.
To speak the given name outright bordered on discourtesy.
Yet Hwang Hak had said "Jin Mugwang" without title, without hesitation.
Soun's eyes slowly closed and opened again.
His breathing settled evenly.
The flicker of anger vanished, replaced by a sharp, distinct line of resolve.
He stepped out from in front of Jimin.
Now he stood squarely before Hwang Hak.
"He is like a father to me,"
Soun said quietly.
"And that place is not one where wandering rabble of the martial world may stroll in and issue demands."
His gaze drove straight forward.
"Do you not understand?"
He stepped closer.
"If you must throw your weight around, do so where it belongs.
I heard you behaved the same way at the Great General's residence as you would with lowly drifters of the martial world."
His breath did not falter.
"And all while posturing as the greatest under heaven."
When the words ended, the air tightened.
Hwang Hak's eyes sank into coldness.
He did not respond verbally.
Instead, he quietly drew up his inner force.
The immense latent power that had never yielded to anyone stirred within him.
Energy honed over long years awakened gradually.
The soil beneath his feet trembled.
"The inscription 'Greatest Under Heaven'—was that carved by you as well?"
His voice remained low, but power surged beneath it.
The inner force he had summoned spread outward along his breath.
"If you truly understood that,"
Soun answered evenly,
"you should first regret raising your internal power just now."
His eyes did not flicker in the least.
"A false Daoist who circles the threshold of Hwagyeong without ever stepping through it—
unable to make the decisive leap that truly matters."
His words flowed coldly.
"You drift about with the appearance of an immortal,
but you are only an empty shell."
Jimin's breath caught.
Was it so?
Was the revered master not truly of Hwagyeong?
The air of Namsan pressed down heavily.
"If you push further, you will die,"
Soun said, his voice low but clear.
"You are welcome to test it."
He did not retreat a single step.
"For the mere act of making demands at the Great General's residence,
your life was already something that could just as well have been forfeit."
Thud.
Hwang Hak felt shock ripple through him like a tremor.
Before truth, everything in the world stops.
The words and attitudes he had piled up to justify himself lost their force in an instant.
The years spent concealing falsehood lost meaning.
In the suspended stillness, he felt as though he stood alone, frozen.
With his inner power fully raised, he expanded his perception to its limit.
Yet he could not grasp the boy's presence.
The youth stood clearly before him, yet his senses brushed nothing.
Only the wind passing by could be felt.
The existence before him was empty.
Like a hollow space, nothing touched it.
It was not a trick to conceal presence.
There was no forced suppression.
As though dissolved into nature itself, he stood without trace.