WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: HidingTurtle
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Raised by a Ruthless Swordsman ◈
Chapter 42: The Soft Overcomes the Hard
──────
My mind, which had been sinking, instead grew cold and clear.
I had only just found a thread to follow. Yet the road by which those who had left might return could be closed again by the hands of people who had nothing to do with them.
I could not simply sit still and wait for word.
“Do you know where Nangong is now?”
“I’m not sure.”
Chae Wol lightly ran her fingers over her cup.
“Those who meant to load that tea onto a ship in Yeongpa would naturally have made their way there, so we have been looking in that direction. But after things went so badly awry, not even a shadow of them has appeared.”
Then again, people who had caused that much trouble would not leave a neat trail behind them.
“If you find any trace of them, would you let me know as well?”
“Of course.”
Chae Wol nodded readily.
After thanking Chae Wol, I left the main hall and retraced my steps through the corridor.
Every step felt as though anchors were tied to my feet. Yet that weight seemed to press my wavering steps firmly into the ground.
As I walked, soft footsteps silently followed behind me and saw me all the way to the outer gate.
Just as I was about to cross the threshold, a cautious voice reached me from behind.
“Young Master.”
I turned and saw Chae Ryeon’s face. Her eyes, usually bright with mischief, were filled with worry she could not hide.
“Please do not be too heartbroken. The road has not been cut off entirely. It has only grown distant for a while.”
I was grateful for her words and the feeling behind them.
“Do not worry. I will not collapse over something like this.”
Yet even after saying that, my face must not have relaxed. The concern did not leave Chae Ryeon’s eyes as she watched me, so I forced the corners of my mouth upward and gave her a faint smile.
The moment she saw that clumsy smile, the ends of Chae Ryeon’s brows drooped as though she might cry. But only for a moment. Soon, her expression smoothed out again.
“Yes. I believe you.”
Chae Ryeon smiled prettily as though nothing were wrong.
I clicked my tongue inwardly at my own immaturity. Even after ten years, I had not improved at this sort of thing.
With no other choice, I gave her a light nod and crossed the courtyard.
People moved through the courtyard of the separate residence as usual. Voices exchanging words and hurried footsteps passed by my ears, but none of it came through clearly.
It all merely drifted past like the distant, muffled sound of waves.
When I reached the side building, I saw Wi Jin-ak practicing forms in one corner of the courtyard. He spotted me and stopped, studying my face for a moment, but he did not ask anything in the end.
I was more grateful for that steady silence.
I considered going into my room to circulate my energy, but if I stayed still, my mind felt as though it would only boil more fiercely.
I called out to Wi Jin-ak, who was about to put away his sabre.
“Brother Wi. Let me join you for a few moves.”
Wi Jin-ak looked me over for a moment. From my face to my fingertips, then back to my face.
Then he slowly readjusted his grip on the sabre he had been holding loosely and moved to one side of the courtyard.
“No holding back.”
I nodded, drew my sword, and faced him. The moment I settled into my stance, Wi Jin-ak drove his sabre straight in without leaving an opening.
As I received and redirected it, my hands did not obey me as they normally did.
Was my family truly safe? Would anyone from that village return at all?
And what was I supposed to do about the private tea trade?
Even if I found Nangong, what could I possibly do alone?
Thought after thought slipped in between each block and each swing of my sword. The more I tried to drive them out, the more stubbornly they clung to me. Before I knew it, my grip on the sword hilt had tightened.
What I should have gently received and diverted, I forcibly knocked aside instead. My movements became rough and uneven. Having struck out too hard, my sword was slow to return, and my feet kept being pushed back through the gaps.
Grinding my teeth, I spun hard and drove toward the sabre. I intended to crush the clutter stirring up my mind beneath my sword.
Though rough, my relentless attack forced Wi Jin-ak’s sabre back one step.
One of his brows rose slightly. Perhaps he had decided to indulge me, because the sabre that had retreated came back in to meet me.
I heavily diverted the sabre and thrust my sword again.
Wi Jin-ak drew back his sabre and used its spine to turn aside my incoming thrust.
Before the sabre that had parried my sword could fall again, I pulled my sword back and attacked from the other side. Wi Jin-ak stepped away and diverted the blade. Without stopping the sword that had been sent aside, I curled it around and cut toward his shoulder.
His sabre blocked my Sword Path. I drew my stopped sword down to slash at his side, turned it toward his wrist, then swept upward again.
I poured out strike after strike, determined not to give my boiling mind even the smallest gap.
Wi Jin-ak took two or three steps back. The ease in his sabre as it received and turned away my attacks gradually faded. The blade that had been straight and weighty became increasingly busy trying to keep up with my sword.
More than ten exchanges passed in a blur.
The more attacks I poured out, the more strength filled my hand. I lashed my sword faster and more fiercely so that stray thoughts could not follow me.
Then, as I thrust my sword toward his sabre, Wi Jin-ak’s blade came in at an angle as though it had been waiting.
My thrust slid along the flat of his sabre. Because I had put more force into it than usual, the redirected sword flew farther aside as well.
My sword shot straight into empty air, and my body followed it to one side. Naturally, my flank opened wide.
Wi Jin-ak’s sabre cut in at an angle.
It stopped dead, a handspan before my ribs.
For a while, neither of us moved. Wi Jin-ak, who had stopped his sabre, and I, who was breathing hard.
At last, Wi Jin-ak withdrew his sabre.
“Your sword has too many thoughts in it today.”
There was nothing I could say to that casually tossed remark. I already knew it well enough, so hearing it said aloud only made me more embarrassed.
“I suppose it does.”
Wi Jin-ak looked up at the sky once. When I followed his gaze, I saw that the sun had already climbed high overhead.
My sweat had cooled and turned sticky. I went to the well, drew up a bucket of water, and poured it over my neck and forearms. As the cold water touched me, my boiling thoughts seemed to settle, if only briefly.
Wi Jin-ak sat on the edge of the wooden porch, silently polishing his sabre.
As I wiped away the water and turned around, a young attendant was coming out of the next room with a meal table held in both hands.
Wi Jin-ak raised the sabre he had been polishing and inspected its edge once in the sunlight before sheathing it. Then he gestured with his chin at the meal table.
“Let us eat. Swinging a blade on an empty stomach only wastes strength.”
I walked over and thanked the attendant setting down the table. The child gave a deep bow and withdrew.
We set the low table on the porch and sat facing each other.
There was white rice, a freshwater fish simmered in a little broth, greens stir-fried in oil, several salty pickles, and a bowl of thin soup.
I lifted a spoonful of rice to my mouth, but it would not go down.
This spoonful of steaming rice caught in my throat. Were my family, who had lost their livelihood and scattered in every direction, even managing to eat properly? Forget hot rice, were they able to swallow even a mouthful of cold rice?
The hand holding my spoon naturally slowed. I was staring down at the meal table, buried in worry, when a voice suddenly spoke.
“Eat.”
I raised my head. Wi Jin-ak scooped up some rice of his own and continued in an offhand tone.
“The more troubled your mind is, the more you must fill your stomach. A mind that boils while you starve will make even a sound calculation go wrong.”
Urged on by his blunt words, I took another two spoonfuls of rice. My mouth was still dry, and everything I swallowed caught in my throat as though I were chewing sand.
Still, I forced it down. Using Wi Jin-ak’s words as an excuse, I emptied the bowl of rice to the bottom.
I swallowed the last mouthful with difficulty and put down my spoon.
But that was all. Into the place where my worries had briefly subsided, anger now pushed its way in.
Why had my family scattered? Whatever the sea prohibition or the private tea trade might be, there was only one beginning to it all.
If I had remained in that fishing village when I was ten. If I had gone out on the boat with Father, mended nets beside Mother, and held Yeona’s hand.
Whether the sea had been closed or the village emptied, at least I would have been there with them.
What I had believed to be cold surged hot again.
I had thought I had torn it all out in that courtyard that day. But perhaps only the elder’s breath had ended, not the fury within me.
Just because I had tied off that knot did not mean that the ten years I had spent bound by it had never happened.
My hand, resting on the table, tightened without my realizing it.
I felt that I could not remain seated like this. If I left it alone, that boiling thing would consume me whole.
I rose from my seat. Wi Jin-ak was putting down his spoon at that very moment.
“Brother Wi. I have a request.”
Wi Jin-ak examined my face briefly, then stood without complaint and drew the sabre he had set down.
“Fine. Better to move your body than sit still and boil.”
* * *
Wi Jin-ak forcefully knocked away my thrust and opened the distance between us. Then he looked up at the sky once.
When I followed his gaze, the sun was already hanging at the edge of the eaves. We had begun at midday, yet it had tilted this far already.
“Let us stop here for today.”
At those words, I lowered my sword. It would be a lie to say I was not disappointed, but I had no right to ask for more. He had crossed blades with me for nearly half a day.
“Thank you. I am indebted to you, Brother Wi.”
Wi Jin-ak slid his sabre into its sheath and received my words calmly.
“What debt is there? My hands had been itching for a fight as well.”
He tapped his shoulder once with the hilt of his sabre, then added as though he had just remembered.
“I have somewhere to go, so I will be away for a while.”
I nodded.
“Go ahead.”
Wi Jin-ak gave a light nod, crossed the courtyard, and disappeared through the gate.
I watched his back absentmindedly.
The more I looked at him, the less I understood what sort of person he was. He seemed to move at Chae Wol’s orders, yet he did not seem like a subordinate.
He did not quite fit as a member of Haomun, but neither did he feel like someone merely staying here for a time, as I was. What connection had brought him to live as a guest in this secluded residence?
But he was not the sort of person who would answer freely even if I asked. I put aside the pointless curiosity and lowered my eyes to the sword in my hand.
The setting sun struck the blade at an angle, and a thin red gleam flowed along its length.
I adjusted my grip on the sword once, then turned toward the empty courtyard.
With Wi Jin-ak gone, along with the elegantly dressed woman and the fierce-looking gatekeepers, the courtyard was silent. The slanting sunlight stretched long through its center, while the dry reeds beyond the wall occasionally rustled.
I walked into its midst and stood in the center of the yard.
With my sword hanging at my side, I steadied my breathing once. It was not as though I could not swing a sword simply because I was alone.
Then I began unfolding the form I had practiced for ten years, starting from the beginning.
The first movement drew a round trace. Its end moved into the next movement, and that end flowed into the one after.
It was a Sword Path I had repeated tens of thousands of times in the mountains. I did not need to consider what came next. Where one movement ended, the next naturally came into my hand.
For the first few rounds, my sword felt heavy. The arm that had crossed blades with Wi Jin-ak for half a day hung as though it weighed a thousand jin, while the thoughts that would not leave me kept clinging to my fingertips.
Still, I did not stop. After completing one full round, I returned to the beginning and started again. Another round. Then back to the beginning.
How many times had I circled through the same place? How many times had my sword returned to the first movement?
At some point, I no longer felt the weight in my arms. I did not know whether the tension had loosened or whether I had simply forgotten it. The sword was as light as part of my hand.
The things that had clung to my fingertips had fallen away as well. My family, the private tea trade, Nangong. I swung my sword steadily and forced them all away.
Only the sword and my breathing remained. When I inhaled, one movement went forth. When I exhaled, the next turned.
The feeling of my feet touching the earth and the wind against my skin grew distant. Even the boundary between one form and the next blurred.
I simply followed the sword and let it go where it wished.
* * *
Suddenly, the footsteps of someone approaching sounded distant to me.
At that sound, my sword stopped. At the same time, the body I had forgotten returned all at once.
Night had already fallen. The sunlight that had lit the courtyard was gone without a trace, and the moon hung low above the eastern wall.
When I had first picked up my sword, the sun had been at the edge of the eaves. Now it had set, and the moon had taken its place.
My entire body was soaked in sweat. The arm holding my sword and the legs supporting me felt as though a thousand jin were tied to them. It seemed that if I took one more step, I would collapse where I stood.
Yet strangely, my mind was unbelievably clear.
Where had all the boiling thoughts gone? It was as though they had stepped back and sat down somewhere else. They no longer disturbed my fingertips.
My body was empty to the bottom, while only my mind had opened wide. It was a strange feeling.
As I stood there for a while, the approaching footsteps finally stopped beside me.
“You have been at it all this time?”
I turned to see Wi Jin-ak entering the courtyard.
Something about the way he looked at me was different from usual. A faint surprise passed through his normally steady eyes.
He had returned to find someone who had been swinging a sword since noon still in the empty courtyard. It was only natural.
As Wi Jin-ak started walking again, he casually said, “I understand why, but you will injure yourself at this rate. Do enough and go inside to rest.”
Watching him pass me on his way to the porch, I thought inwardly that he was right.
Yet it was strange.
Here, with my body empty to the bottom and only my mind opened wide, the thing that had hovered at my fingertips for days felt somehow close.
The sensation at the end of receiving and redirecting Wi Jin-ak’s sabre. The feeling that seemed within reach, only to slip through my fingers every time. It felt as though I could touch it now.
I grew anxious that it might scatter again if I tried to grasp it. Before this empty, open state cooled away. Before my limp arms remembered their own weight again.
I abandoned the thought of going inside and called out to Wi Jin-ak.
“Brother Wi. Forgive me, but would you receive just one more move?”
Wi Jin-ak stopped on his way to the porch and turned back. He looked me up and down once, then shook his head.
“You have been swinging your sword without pause for several double-hours, and now you want to lift it again? You will truly injure yourself. A sabre’s edge does not grow dull simply because it is a Sparring Bout.”
His intention to stop me was clear. Then again, even to his eyes, I could not look well.
But I could not retreat.
“There is something that has seemed within reach, only to vanish, these past days.”
Wi Jin-ak’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Though I have searched for it for days without grasping it, I feel that I may be able to reach it now. If I let this chance go, I do not know when I will touch it again. So I ask you.”
When I finished speaking, I met his eyes. A few exchanges would be enough. But it had to be now.
Wi Jin-ak silently looked me over for a moment. His steady eyes stayed on my face for a long while, as though measuring something.
At last, he drew the sabre from his waist.
“Fine. But do not blame me if you injure yourself.”
I readjusted my grip on my sword and faced him. Wi Jin-ak raised his sabre in his familiar guard stance.
“Here I come.”
The instant the words left his mouth, he rushed forward and swung his sabre in at an angle. I received the diagonal cut with my sword and redirected it.
But despite what my mind wished, the sabre before me was still heavy.
Its weight struck straight into my wrist through the flat of my sword as I diverted it. I received, turned aside, took half a step back, and received it again.
The thing that had seemed within reach fled far away the moment our blades crossed, refusing to catch on my fingertips.
Impatience slowly raised its head.
The more I tried to seize it, the farther it moved away. Tension entered my shoulder, and the sword that had been redirecting his attacks grew rough again. The rougher sword received more weight, and the arm receiving that weight grew heavier still.
After taking several more exchanges, my limp arm finally stopped obeying me.
I could not put strength into it even if I tried. The strength I had meant to use to meet weight with weight gave out on its own. With no other choice, I could only set my sword against the sabre wherever it came.
Then Wi Jin-ak’s sabre fell at an angle.
I had no strength left to block it or turn it aside. I merely laid my sword gently on the path the sabre was taking, intending to open that path one handspan wider.
And in that instant, the weight in my hand vanished as though it had never existed.
The heavy sabre was clearly resting on the flat of my sword, yet even the sensation of holding it disappeared. As though it had left its own weight somewhere behind, the sabre slid along my sword by itself.
It was that very strange sensation that had hovered at my fingertips for days.
At the end of that sliding sabre, I gently twisted my wrist. It was no more than turning its path by the width of one finger joint, as though laying down a feather.
With that slight motion, the vanished weight awakened again.
The heavy sabre, which had flowed on after losing its own weight, was thrown wholly off its path along that single added point. The weight carried in the sabre became a burden, and unable to overcome its own weight, it dragged Wi Jin-ak along.
His wrist, shoulder, and center of balance crumpled forward after the sabre in turn.
In an instant, his side opened wide.
I drove my sword in without any obstruction. Its tip stopped before Wi Jin-ak’s throat.
We both froze there. Wi Jin-ak, thrown forward after losing his balance to his own sabre, and I, standing still with my sword pointed at his throat.
At last, Wi Jin-ak slowly straightened his tilted balance. Then, instead of sheathing his sabre, he quietly looked down at what he held in his hand.
Unlike himself, his eyes moved between the sabre and me several times. His normally steady eyes seemed to have widened slightly.
“…Four Ounces Deflect a Thousand Pounds.”
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried
