The Visit – Jin Mugwang 1
As training began, the relationship between the two changed rapidly.
When the directive from her sect—to obtain the insights (心得) of a master of Hwagyeong—came to light, Jimin's heart grew troubled and lonely.
She told herself it could not be helped, yet the fact that she had hidden it from Soun weighed on her.
Even if silence and concealment accorded with the world's etiquette, shame rose within her whenever she looked at the pure-hearted Soun.
One who uses another must one day bear the consequence.
She knew that truth, and yet she had acted.
Perhaps it was because of the circumstances into which one is born.
Many things can be explained by circumstance.
But explanation is not forgiveness.
One may say, "Ah, so that was why," and understand—
yet that does not make it right.
Whether he knew or did not know, Soun said nothing.
He seemed to believe that passing over such matters without comment was the more refined way.
At times he truly appeared unaware.
As though he genuinely did not see the hidden calculation behind her approach.
Soun trained Jimin in the manner of the White Dragon Unit.
It was the only method he knew.
He had never taught through lectures, demonstrations, or sparring.
Jimin had learned internal martial arts (內家), yet enduring White Dragon training without relying on her own techniques was no easy task.
Even soldiers found it grueling.
For a woman's body, it was harsh.
Still, because she bore fault and earnest desire to learn, she began again from the very foundations, awkward and unfamiliar though it felt.
Within a sect devoted to internal arts, there lingered a faint hope that perhaps some accelerated method existed.
The main mountain likely expected as much.
Seeing a youth who had reached Hwagyeong so swiftly, they may have imagined a secret manual recording some rapid mental method.
Several days passed.
Jimin was now practicing forms (形).
Fortunately, she was not forbidden from using her native techniques.
What Soun valued above all was breath and flow.
He instructed her to connect breath and flow according to precise formula, and to swing the sword very slowly.
At times he left her alone for a shijin or two, yet more often he remained at her side.
Being made to practice while he stood watching beside her was itself torment.
He rarely spoke, but his unblinking gaze allowed no moment's lapse.
They were returning to the inn, Jimin utterly exhausted.
The inn was still far from sight.
Suddenly Soun's eyes widened.
His steps quickened.
"Noona, hurry."
"I'm tired. Slowly—slowly. I feel like I'm going to collapse. I truly feel I might fall."
Soun stamped his feet in impatience.
The excessive training had left her body slack and heavy.
Her thighs were knotted with stiffness; crawling on all fours had left her shoulders and back rigid.
It was training that disrupted even ordinary walking.
Though she faintly lifted her head and told him to go ahead,
he merely fidgeted and would not leave her behind.
For reasons she did not understand, he insisted they hurry.
"We must go… quickly…"
Unable to endure it, he supported her and urged her steps forward.
When the end of the road came into view and the inn appeared, he left her briefly and ran ahead alone.
His steps were so swift they blurred from sight.
He burst through the inn door with a bright smile.
On the first-floor dining hall, two figures sat like a painting.
General Jin Mugwang and Lee Sogun.
Soun paid no heed to the surrounding gazes.
The inn below was crowded with those who had come to see him.
Yet none dared send up a visitor's card.
After the incidents with Peng Gi and Hwang Hak, few dared to request an audience lightly.
They did not openly ask to meet him, yet neither did they depart.
Only the innkeeper prospered.
Business flourished visibly.
Thus the Cheonhwa Inn had become like a den of demons.
All manner of strange martial figures gathered there.
At first, members of the unorthodox factions hovered about.
After Peng Gi's failure, none dared step forward.
Following the Hwang Hak affair, even the orthodox figures held back.
Many heroes assembled, yet none advanced.
The surrounding inns too were filled to capacity.
Ignoring them all, Soun ran straight to the table where the two sat, dropped to one knee, and offered a soldier's salute.
"I pay my respects to the Great General."
It was a sight rarely seen in the imperial capital.
Soun's salute bore not the slightest flaw.
His back was straight; the angle of his hands and the height of his gaze were exactly as in his White Dragon days.
There was no embellishment.
It was courtesy etched into his body through training.
"Rise (平身). Stand."
The General's voice sounded low.
Yet Soun did not rise immediately.
After a brief breath, he slowly turned his body.
Each movement was deliberate.
Before Lee Sogun, he bowed deeply once more.
The sound of his knee touching the floor was soft.
His forehead nearly reached the ground.
"I wish also to greet Aunt.
Aunt, have you been well?"
His voice was low and composed.
He remained bowed for a moment.
Even the act of lifting his head was unhurried.
The inn fell silent.
Murmurs ceased.
Even the sound of cups settling stopped.
People held their breath and watched.
A man said to have reached Hwagyeong—
bowing with such supreme courtesy.
There was no calculation in it.
No forced humility.
It was simply respect rising from deep within his heart,
visible in each movement and breath.
Those who watched understood.
Without hearing explanation,
they knew how deep that bow ran.
Soun slowly straightened.
When he lifted his head, his eyes were gentle.
It was not reverence imposed by hierarchy,
but respect he himself had chosen.
In that moment, the gazes of the assembled heroes lowered naturally.
No one asked who bowed to whom.
The scene itself was answer enough.