Chapter v16c5

Mo Yong hwi’s Concerns

– The Bonds of Affection

What is Qi?

What is the Eight Trigrams?

What is Yin and Yang?

What is nature?

What is the Taiji?

Is nature, that which is self-so, that which has no cause other than itself? Does that mean that the concept of nothingness, the opposite of being, cannot exist? Is nature without beginning or end? Then, is what is commonly referred to as nothingness relative nothingness or absolute nothingness? Does the “nothingness” in “being arises from nothingness” refer to the nothingness where even nothingness does not exist, that is, not relative nothingness, but absolute nothingness, which means formlessness? To be formless means to be able to transform into anything. Then, is it reasonable to view the nature of the Tao, which can be dared to be called the first cause, as formlessness?

But what does this speculative thinking have to do with the development of martial arts? Is it necessary to find answers to such difficult questions? Shouldn’t a warrior simply train his muscles and bones like steel and wield his sword as swiftly and sharply as the wind?

If it were during his ignorant childhood, when he harbored no doubts about the world and simply went with the flow, he would have been able to convince himself of such things without any problem. However, now that he knew better than anyone that true mastery could not be achieved through physical training alone, he could not bring himself to do so. It would be an act of avoiding the enormous problem that had suddenly appeared before him one day. He couldn’t be a coward. But… perhaps he already was.

“Sigh…”

A soft sigh escaped Mo Yong hwi’s lips.

Lately, this genius young man (a title bestowed by others, not himself) had been troubled by philosophical questions. They were consuming his mental energy. Was there any progress? The most frustrating thing about these questions was that the answers were not commensurate with the effort he put into contemplating them. It was a losing battle.

Of course, if the answers to these questions were so simple and straightforward, they wouldn’t have been debated for centuries. But he couldn’t deny the reality that he had to overcome these questions to progress further.

‘When a thing reaches its extreme, it must reverse…’

It meant that all things changed when they reached their limit. It was the way of the world. When a thing reached its extreme, parity was not conserved. There was no such thing as perfect balance between yin and yang. Perfect balance, in a sense, did not exist. And in this case, it should not exist. Because it would mean the world coming to a standstill. Perfect symmetry was not conserved, and that was why the world continued to cycle endlessly, never stopping.

‘To understand the world is to understand oneself, and to understand one’s essence is to understand the world. It is not for nothing that the human body is called a microcosm, and nature, that which is self-so, is called a macrocosm.’

The old man who had introduced himself as Hyuk Jung had said so. The mysterious old man… He had offered to teach him the most powerful martial art in the current world, boasting that the one who mastered it would become the undisputed best in the world. And he had said that what he had just explained was like an introductory course to that martial art. How surprised he had been to learn later that the old man was the leader of the Law Enforcers!

He didn’t think it was a lie. If it was truly the legacy of the Taiji Divine Lord, Martial God Hyuk Wol Rin, then it was certainly worthy of such claims. The old man’s status lent credibility to his words. But he couldn’t accept it.

“Thank you for your kind words. It is an honor to be so highly regarded by you. But I cannot accept. I haven’t even fully mastered what I’m currently learning. How can I be worthy of such a divine art?”

He had refused. He had said that, but perhaps he was afraid. Accepting it would mean shouldering a heavy responsibility and obligation. But he was willing to bear it.

However…

There was something he feared even more.

The fear of self-doubt, the fear that it would reveal how insignificant he truly was. He was afraid of realizing his own limitations, his own shortcomings. He had already experienced several setbacks. Once, to a friend he had once looked down on, and once, to a faceless being from the other side of darkness.

Yes, to be honest, he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to master the divine art. He was afraid of failing again. He felt like he would crumble if he experienced another setback. So he had shrunk back, using a superficial excuse to refuse the offer.

The old man hadn’t been angry. But he hadn’t given up either. He was grateful that he hadn’t cursed him for throwing away such a golden opportunity. He had simply left him with a philosophical question, saying that he might gain enlightenment if he pondered it deeply.

The question, left at the beginning and the end, remained etched in his mind, turning his thoughts into a jumbled mess. A question without an answer was like a labyrinth without an exit.

“Is this the extent of my capacity? Did people waste the words ‘prodigy’ and ‘genius’ on someone like me?”

The seed of self-doubt sprouted, and it quickly grew, spreading its roots throughout his mind. He had never doubted his abilities before. He had never experienced failure, so he had no tolerance for it. The despair he felt now was unbearable.

Of course, he had always been proud of himself, but he had never been arrogant. He had never lost his humility. He had always kept his ego in check. His grandfather’s overwhelming presence had been a shield against arrogance.

But he had never been looked down upon by anyone his own age. He had never experienced such humiliation. He wasn’t weak or shameless enough to rely on his lineage, and he knew that the only one who could improve his abilities was himself. He had mastered this simple, yet often overlooked and rarely practiced, truth. The sweat he had poured into his sword training was immeasurable. Was the ability to persevere also a talent? Natural talent and relentless effort, those were the driving forces behind Mo Yong hwi, the Seven Absolute Swords.

But his talent and effort had hit a wall for the first time. The shock was inevitable, and it shook him to his core.

The sense of helplessness he felt now was something he had never experienced before. The moment he lost faith in himself, the world lost all its color, turning into a bleak, gray wasteland.

He felt suffocated, trapped. He had never felt so alone.

“Grandfather…”

He thought of Mo-yong Jeong-cheon, the Sword Saint, his role model, his goal. His grandfather had always been a source of comfort, a pillar of strength. But this time, it wasn’t enough. He felt even more lonely. Loneliness washed over him like a wave. Wandering through the darkness of his own mind was like being lost at sea. He felt like a shipwrecked sailor, searching for a lighthouse. He missed his grandfather terribly. Longing swept through him like a flood.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to cry. Is something bothering you?”

At first, he thought it was a hallucination. It was a familiar voice, filled with love and concern. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t his imagination.

He turned his head sharply. This was the second time he had been caught off guard since arriving on Mount Hua. But he didn’t care. He was too stunned to be surprised. He rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“…Grandfather?”

Standing there, within arm’s reach, was the person he respected and loved most in the world.

It was his grandfather, Mo-yong Jeong-cheon, the Sword Saint.

“Is this a dream?”

He asked, his voice trembling.

“Haha, you silly boy. Why are you staring at me like that? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

He felt like he had. The person he wanted to see the most, but also the person he was most afraid to face, had appeared before him, as if by magic.

“Hahaha, you rascal! If you want to know if it’s a dream or not, why don’t you find out for yourself?”

The white-haired old man laughed heartily, his arms outstretched, his face beaming with kindness.

It wasn’t a dream.

“G-Grandfather!”

His throat tightened, tears welling up in his eyes. But he couldn’t cry. Not in front of his grandfather. A descendant of the Sword Saint couldn’t show such weakness. But he couldn’t hold back any longer. He ran into his grandfather’s arms like a child. The young man who was known as the Seven Absolute Swords, who lived a disciplined and controlled life, was just a child in front of his grandfather. It was a sight that would have shocked those who knew him as a cold and aloof figure.

“Hahaha, you’ve become quite the crybaby in the two years we’ve been apart!”

The Sword Saint chuckled, patting his grandson’s back.

As his emotions subsided, Mo Yong hwi’s curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to know why his grandfather was here. He chose the most direct and effective method: asking him directly. He was curious why the Sword Saint, who rarely left his home, had come to Mount Hua.

“You seem to have forgotten who I am.”

The Sword Saint said, answering his unspoken question.

“You are the greatest swordsman in the world, the Sword Saint, one of the Heavenly Martial three saints, and my beloved grandfather. How could I forget?”

Mo Yong hwi replied respectfully.

“Haha, then why did you ask such a question?”

His grandfather’s gentle rebuke made him realize his mistake.

“You’re right. I apologize for my foolish question.”

There was nowhere in the world that Mo-yong Jeong-cheon, the Sword Saint, couldn’t go. Especially not Mount Hua, the site of the Mount Hua Sword Conference. The Heavenly Martial three saints had been the guests of honor at the Sword Conference for the past hundred years. They would have received a formal invitation from the Mount Hua Sect. He had never heard of a Sword Conference without the three saints in attendance. It was a testament to their unwavering support for the event.

Of course, the Heavenly Martial three saints received invitations to every major martial arts event in the world. Whether they attended or not was irrelevant. It was an honor to be invited. The point was that the invitations were sent. It was a sign of respect for the legends of the martial world.

“Ah, my friends are waiting for me. I should go before they start complaining. Come with me. They’ll be happy to see you. It’s been a while.”

“Your friends…?”

There weren’t many people who could be considered friends of the Sword Saint and would be invited to Mount Hua. He could only think of two people.

“Could it be…?”

The Sword Saint nodded.

“Who else would it be? Our bond has lasted for over a hundred years. Haha. You should greet them too. It’s been a long time…”

“Yes, it’s been ten years since I last saw them.”

“Yes, it’s been ten years since you fell off that roof!”

“G-Grandfather… Please don’t…”

The Sword Saint chuckled, his eyes filled with nostalgia, and Mo Yong hwi blushed, embarrassed by the memory.

He had been a twelve-year-old boy when he first met them. But he was a descendant of a martial arts family, and he had been training since he was five. He had grown up listening to stories about the legendary figures of the martial world.

Stories about heroes and masters inspired children, giving them dreams and goals. It was encouraged. What else would they talk about? And the most popular stories were about the Heavenly Martial three saints, the living legends of the current world. To instill pride in the descendants of the Mo-yong Clan, the elders would often tell them stories about the legendary exploits of Mo-yong Jeong-cheon, the Sword Saint.

None of the children, whether from the main family, the branch families, or the guardian families, were uninterested in those stories. And the stories about the Sword Saint always included his two companions – the Sword Empress and Do-seong – though they would probably protest if they heard him call them “sidekicks.” So Mo Yong hwi had grown up listening to stories about Mo-yong Jeong-cheon, the Sword Saint, and his trusted companions, the Sword Empress and Do-seong, and they had become his heroes.

So when the Sword Empress and Do-seong visited the Mo-yong Clan for the first time, holding a meeting with the Sword Saint in the backyard, he had watched them with wide-eyed admiration. He had been so engrossed in watching them that he had fallen off the roof. But none of them had scolded him. They had even saved him.

“Time flies… It’s been ten years since you fell off that roof and the Sword Empress saved you! They’ll be happy to see you. They were very fond of you.”

“Yes, I was the envy of all the other children.”

It was only natural. He had been thrilled to meet his heroes.