Chapter 172 — Take a Look at Mine
At last, So Cheolun got down from his horse.
"Ah! Again! Why?"
"Please take a look at my sword practice."
"I have already seen it. I have seen it millions of times."
"No, when Master told you to show yours, he said you had improved. Please look at mine too."
"You have not improved at all."
"I have not even started yet."
"The road ahead is long."
"Now, I begin."
He stood in a broad patch of ground where short grass had grown thinly.
The moment he began, So Cheolun started dancing.
This fellow's sword method was peculiar.
There was no will in it to kill a man.
It was literally dance.
A performance.
That was why he stood out even when several men practiced together.
The curve drawn by his sword tip was soft.
It resembled the flowing hills and rivers of Goryeo.
It drifted on without end, like a broad river moving at leisure.
There was no force that ran, stopped, and settled.
He had chosen the wrong trade.
He might have done well performing a sword dance in a tavern.
Still, the forms were accurate, so Youngwoo had held his tongue.
But now that he was watching Cheolun alone, the sight displeased him greatly.
"Did you learn from a gisaeng?"
"What? What is wrong with me?"
Even while practicing, his mouth would not stay still.
"Hyeh."
Youngwoo sighed.
He was still on horseback.
The riderless horse grazed lazily, then lifted its head and stared, then grazed again.
Even the horse seemed displeased with what its master was doing.
"Stop. Is that sword practice or dancing?"
"Can you not feel the force flowing grandly within softness?"
He did speak well.
Since his interpretations of everything were so fine, the fellow would probably live happily until the day he died.
"When I get to Gaegyeong, I will find you a job."
"Where?"
"If you do that in front of a troupe of tightrope walkers, you will be popular."
"Ah! Aah! Aaaah! How can you say such a thing? I am serious in my own way."
"Yes. It seems your seriousness froze to death. Stop. You are ruining my eyes."
Cheolun finished the sword practice to the end.
Perhaps he had seen Youngwoo perform before Baek Ingyeom, because he kept the proper form to the very last movement.
"How was it?"
"I told you. It looked like dancing."
"I made it soft and graceful, so of course it did."
"Could you cut even a chicken's neck with that?"
"Would it hurt you to say something a little nicer?"
Youngwoo laughed faintly.
Everyone wants praise.
But there had to be something to praise.
"The will is good. But…"
"Ah, stop! Do not say anything negative."
"That is why I do not know what to say when you ask me to say something. I am still a student, not a teacher. If this was what you wanted, you should have asked Master to look at it when we went to Huiling Prefecture. How can I do anything when I do not know enough? Ah, why ask me for this?"
"Tsk. So it does not work, then. Just tell me what is different between you and me, and what I should fix."
"Everything is different. What more is there to say?"
"You cannot speak more concretely? What phrase is more vague than 'everything'? I can only fix it if you distinguish the parts."
"Change it all! All of it!"
"What is wrong with me?"
Cheolun seemed determined.
Youngwoo got down from his horse and demonstrated one movement.
"Fine. What is this? This."
Youngwoo's sword rose upward.
As if lifting a cauldron, the force climbed through his shoulders and stood upright.
The sword tip pointed upward, and his center settled firm.
Geojongse took shape.
His waist tilted at an angle, and his body flowed after it.
The sword slid down diagonally and entered the opponent's flank.
The twist of the waist carried straight into the blade, cutting long.
Sayose unfolded through the body.
His foot stepped in one pace farther, and the distance closed completely.
Shoulder and arm joined into one line, and force gathered forward.
The sword tip entered along the centerline and thrust straight ahead.
Jigipse pushed in as it was.
"Martial arts must have proper method and form. Of all the movements expressed through the body, they must be the most exact. Dance is different. When excitement rises, one may sway and wave about. But that is not martial art.
In a single fight, your head may fly off. So every movement must have a reason. If the direction of the sword tip changes even by a hair, that change must have a reason. Even one turn of the eye and one breath must be explainable. Your one and only life hangs on each of those things."
— Korean Martial Arts Newspaper
"The basic movements that contain attack and defense are called single-hand forms and single-fist forms. They are connected and repeated without end in training. When three or four, or four or five of these techniques are linked together, that becomes a routine, a toulu."
Youngwoo rested for a moment, then continued.
"How well that routine is composed determines the level of that martial art. It connects several basic movements into combinations. They appear differently depending on the situation. Which one is most suitable is proven in real combat.
You must practice by connecting these basic movements. If you move roughly as though dancing, nothing will come of it. You must think that the great enemy of your lifetime stands before your eyes, and you must fight."
Youngwoo looked into So Cheolun's eyes.
This fellow would not do.
Youngwoo knew him well.
How slippery and idle was he, that he would truly practice martial arts?
He had mastered the art of doing things easily without spending effort.
The shape looked the same, but there was no result.
Youngwoo finished what he had been saying.
"And though they seem few, all methods of attack and defense are contained in the twenty-four techniques. You must master each one perfectly, then connect them into routines. The sixty or so movements you practice now must be repeated with sincerity, as though a life-and-death enemy stands before you. Merely copying the shape is dance. It is performance."
So Cheolun's spirits sank.
He realized that what he had been doing was only posture.
That was what came of trying to save effort in the army.
He had developed his own secret method to make something that had to be done for a long time, often, and in great amount feel comfortable.
His goal had been "doing it without effort."
It was a trick of military life.
He only copied the shape.
He did what others did, but there was no force inside it.
They had lived 붙어 together for years.
How could Youngwoo not know?
The tricks and calculations passing through that fellow's head were plain to see.
Youngwoo felt he could say the next words before Cheolun said them.
He tapped So Cheolun's drooping shoulder.
"Let us go. We can talk while moving."
"So you are not going to teach me?"
His mouth stuck out an inch.
"I will teach you. But will it work with that dancing of yours?"
"I will do it properly. From now on."
How much trust can one place in the words, "from now on, I will do it properly"?
There were tens of thousands of reasons he had not done so until now.
Could he suddenly change now?
Only one more reason not to change would be added.
But Youngwoo could not say that.
"Yes. Then it will work. You know how to do it. I expect you to change. If you keep at it, you will change. So that careless way of doing things, you know what I mean? Do not do that anymore. Understood?"
"Yes!"
"Let us go. The road is long."
Youngwoo climbed onto his horse as if annoyed, and So Cheolun lowered his head deeply.
The saddest thing is when everyone else can do something and only you cannot.
Youngwoo did understand that feeling, but he had no room to spend effort on something that might not work.
He could not even manage the life before his own eyes.
How could he tell another man what to do?
As they rode side by side, Cheolun moved half a step behind him, then fell farther back altogether.
He expressed his hurt that way.
Would that change anything?
Youngwoo's heart was in haste.
No, all of Gaegyeong looked to him like a den of demons.
After being struck several times, people no longer looked like people.
It was a place where those who lived for their own needs would not hesitate to commit any cruelty.
Because his heart was that way, he did not see Cheolun's hurt.
Or even if he saw it, he did not want to pay it much mind.
I am worrying over matters with my life at stake, and he sulks over whether or not I will teach him martial arts.