Mukeoja — I Came on Two Feet
Along a mountain path where few ever passed, an old man in black descended slowly.
His steps were unhurried, yet never stopped.
Only the faint sound of dry leaves crushed beneath his feet continued.
It was an unfamiliar presence.
Sowoon's gaze settled in that direction.
The old man's eyes met his without delay.
They stopped squarely upon one another.
The energy was unlike that of an ordinary man.
Yet there was also a faint sense of obstruction, as though something were restrained.
The old man stepped into the clearing.
His black robe stood out sharply against the yellowed, barren ground.
The color was vivid, yet his presence seemed indistinct.
Though close, he appeared distant.
Before him, one of the trainees who had been crawling on all fours sprang upright.
With dirt still smeared across his forehead, he asked,
"How did you come?"
The old man smirked.
Since the question came from one who had crawled on four limbs,
the answer descended in kind.
"On two feet."
The reply was playful.
Yet his age and bearing were far from ordinary.
It was not something to answer lightly.
The man straightened his posture.
This time he chose his words carefully.
"May I ask your purpose?"
The old man tilted his head.
"I came to see that child."
The black hem of his robe stirred lightly in the wind.
His fingertip pointed toward Sowoon in the distance.
At the end of that gesture,
Sowoon was already watching him.
The trainee confirmed the direction of the gaze.
He recognized another who had come to see Sowoon.
He was aware, faintly, that he himself had arrived earlier than others.
A subtle pride flickered within him as the first to enter.
His expression hardened.
"Please present your visiting note."
People repeat what they have experienced.
They believe it is right.
They think it permissible.
Because they themselves endured it once.
He too had once been driven away at the gate for lacking a visiting note.
That memory remained.
If this man had come to see Sowoon,
he must undergo the same procedure.
"Heh heh, a visiting note… of course."
The old man chuckled softly.
Standing where he was, he picked up a sheet of paper from a nearby table.
He spread it open with a sharp flick.
The sound cracked briefly, as if his mood were slightly ruffled.
He took up a brush and wrote with a few swift strokes.
The tip pressed deeply into the paper.
Ink, insufficiently ground, bled outward.
'Mukeoja (默語子)'
The trainee seized the note and ran.
Dust rose behind him as he halted before Sowoon and held out the paper.
Sowoon read the three characters.
A smile touched his lips.
'Mukeoja (默語子)'
He had never seen the original manuscript.
All he possessed was a copied volume transcribed by Yi Hui,
and a single sheet summarizing its essence.
He had never read the entire Compendium.
He had only traced the path through copied words.
And now, the author of that Compendium stood there,
clad in black, in the middle of the clearing.
A stray thought crossed his mind.
Should he run forward and request even a single character written by that hand?
The smile deepened.
Yet his feet did not move.
Meeting eyes alone was enough.
So it was him.
The one who compiled the martial arts within the palace.
Sowoon's gaze sharpened.
He walked forward through those still training.
Dust stirred, but his steps did not waver.
He stopped before Mukeoja and cupped his fist respectfully.
"I am Yu Sowoon of Taewon. I have long wished to meet you."
Mukeoja laughed softly.
"Heh heh. So, the son of Lord Yu of Taewon… Why would you seek an old minor official like me?"
His tone was light, but his eyes were keen.
Sowoon answered calmly.
"I learned from your book. I wished to see what kind of person you were."
The corner of Mukeoja's eyes lifted slightly.
"Is that so? And now that you see me, what do you think?"
Sowoon regarded him for a moment before speaking.
"I could not imagine you. But now that I see you, you are very different."