The Training Ground
After leaving the Sarang(the family patriarch's chamber), Seongjin Park headed straight for the training ground.
Only now did he fully recognize his mistake.
He had tried to solve a problem that could not be reached by a blade—with a blade in his hand.
The realization settled into him as shame.
When he stepped into the training yard, the more perceptive warriors sensed the shift immediately. Something in the air had changed.
Even Song Yisul was there. And Song Yijeong, who had already completed his duties, had not returned to the main mountain. At Yisul's request, he had assisted briefly in the recent campaign and was still staying in the warriors' quarters.
The rhythm of practice slowed.
Breathing steadied.
No one spoke, but all were waiting.
Seongjin gathered those present. He did not line them up. He did not divide them into ranks. He simply stood at the center and spoke.
"For several days, I have carried a question."
No one interrupted.
"About good and evil. About the world. About politics."
He paused briefly.
"The privileges that crush the lives of the people remain. The court struggles to contain them. The king wishes to change things, but the blades of the entrenched interests resist fiercely."
All eyes settled on him.
"At first, I believed I should step forward."
He did not hide it.
"I have a sword. I have strength. I believed I could stop it."
Silence deepened in the yard.
"But that was my error."
His voice remained steady.
"We have seen this road before. Those who begin speaking of justice, then seek position, then become another power, and eventually draw their swords to protect their own share."
Several lowered their heads.
"So I ask you today."
His tone was low, but clear.
"In times like this, how should a warrior live?"
It was not an order.
Not a demand for an answer.
It was a question.
"If you raise a sword without understanding the current of the world, you create disaster."
He drew a slow breath.
"And if you easily choose a side and become that side's tool, you sink deeper."
Only breathing remained.
"The warrior's path is not about choosing answers."
He spoke slowly.
"It is about carrying the question and living with it to the end."
Some would say now is the time to strike.
Others would say one must withdraw entirely.
A warrior, he said, does not easily surrender himself to either.
"To know the question. To refuse to discard it. To live with it. That is our path."
There was no applause.
Yet everyone stood straighter.
No new answer was born that day.
Instead, a question took root.
How should I live?
Seongjin did not claim certainty.
"I do not know the answer."
The words did not scatter lightly.
Warriors understand when "I do not know" becomes a burden of responsibility.
"But I will not abandon the question simply because it is difficult."
He lowered his hand from the hilt.
The tip of his sword rested toward the earth.
"Do not become the sword of power."
His voice carried to the far end of the yard.
"The moment you believe you can fix the world, you stray. I am a warrior. I have no reason to believe I understand politics better than those who govern."
He paused.
"But we are not bound by profit. That is what allows us to remain sincere."
It was not self-deprecation.
It was clarity.
The yard fell silent again.
Someone looked up at the sky.
The gaze spread.
Blue sky.
Clouds drifting slowly.
Unhurried.
They understood.
Even without answers, one must live.
Even without certainty, one must carry the sword responsibly.
Power is always accompanied by weight.
There were no slogans.
No vows.
Only silence settling heavily upon each of them.
And within that silence, they became more fully themselves.
No Easy Choice
The training yard was packed with firm yellow earth, hardened so feet would not sink.
Years of footsteps and blade-tips had pressed it smooth.
Low wooden fencing encircled it.
Practice weapons stood in neat order—worn wooden swords, blunted spear shafts, stone weights, sandbags.
Nothing lay scattered.
Order defined this place.
At the center, Song Yisul exhaled deeply.
"Huh…"
It sounded close to a sigh.
"Today, we studied something more important than any technique."
Seongjin gave a small, embarrassed smile and removed his hand from the hilt.
"I am sorry for offering words without answers, Elder."
Yisul snorted.
"If there were answers, that would be the real problem."
He nudged the soil with his foot. A faint cloud rose and settled.
"We are warriors."
He nodded.
"That struck my chest. It's easy to pretend to be politicians, to give advice about how the world should move… You're remarkable, truly."
"I learned from you," Seongjin replied quietly. "Looking back, I think I tried to force an easy solution through strength."
Yijeong, standing nearby, nodded and tapped Seongjin's shoulder lightly.
"Because of you, the war stopped."
Seongjin shook his head.
"The war stopped. But this nation is rotting from within."
His gaze drifted to the fence at the far end.
"Last night, rebels attacked Manwoldae. There are those willing to sell the country to preserve their privilege. Can such a state truly function?"
Yisul's face hardened.
"I heard there was trouble."
"What happened?"
"I handled it. Injung Lee took custody."
"And the king?"
"He is safe."
Yisul smiled faintly.
"Of course he is. You were there."
Then his eyes narrowed.
"Did he say anything else?"
"He tried to assign me a role. I declined."
Yisul clicked his tongue.
"You could have asked for a high office."
Seongjin remained silent for a moment.
"The thoughts I shared today came to me then."
Yisul nodded again.
This time he did not smile.
"Yes. That is what matters."
Silence returned.
The three stood on the yellow earth and looked up at the sky.
Surrounded by swords and spears, they felt it clearly.
There are things heavier than strength.