Chapter 46. Counsel and Preparation
The Rite of Sending a Disciple to the Battlefield
Baek In-gyeom flicked a thin bundle of paper from his fingertips.
For a moment it seemed to hang in the air, suspended, before gliding forward in a slow, level line.
Infused with inner force, the bundle did not drift with the wind but slid straight toward Youngwoo.
Youngwoo caught it in one hand.
"What is this?"
"Open it."
Inside was something like a thin garment.
Its color held a pale sheen of silver, tinged with a dry yellow.
"What is this?"
"Wear it beneath your clothes. It is a heart-guard—護心甲. It will turn aside blades, arrows, and spears. Even poison."
He had only ever heard of such things.
They said men of high rank did not die easily for this very reason—because they possessed such rare instruments.
"It is too much for me."
"No. You are worth it. Just guard your neck."
"Yes."
"And do not rely on strength. Recall what you have learned."
The words were kind.
But what one has learned only settles into the body through countless repetitions.
It is a matter of time.
Though young, he had seen more in the army than most.
Even so, he could not say he was ready.
"I will remember. Without fail."
"Do not speak of taking one with you when you die. Live. You must live."
Youngwoo fell silent for a moment.
He could not even say why he resisted that thought.
Seo-seobang, Yun Ji-ung, and those lackeys driven by resentment.
Men who wielded poison and hidden weapons—treacherous men.
Had he known it would come to this, he would have ended it when they first clashed.
With what little he had learned then, he could have sent them all to their deaths.
"I understand. I will live."
"Recall what you have learned. Do not lose the center of your mind."
"The center…"
Baek In-gyeom remained beside him, repeating what must be heeded.
To die now would feel like a betrayal of that concern alone.
Within his words lay the methods of martial skill—
how to act in each moment,
how a warrior meets what comes.
"Do not try to block and strike as two separate things."
"Yes. Then how—"
"Block as you strike."
"How could I possibly—"
"I am teaching you now. Try. Attack me."
Youngwoo rose and threw a punch.
His master's hand brushed it aside, deflecting the strike, while the other hand drove into his side.
The pain stole his breath.
Tears sprang to his eyes.
"Again."
This time, thinking to counter, he lunged forward with a long step.
Baek In-gyeom sank his body, slipping past the attack, and in the same motion swept Youngwoo's supporting leg.
Youngwoo lost his balance and fell hard.
"This is how it is done. If you only block, the next strike will take you. Block, evade, and strike in the same breath. The one who attacks reveals himself."
"Ah…"
"Again."
He demonstrated a movement, then made him repeat it until it settled.
The techniques were cunning, precise, and terrifying.
One could see why an enemy would fall the instant they collided.
At the very moment of attack, both sides collapsed together—
a refined and dangerous art.
In a short span, he absorbed more than twenty forms.
Movements of hand and foot, of sword and spear, were interwoven.
The essence lay in this: attack and defense were not separate.
To defend was to strike.
It resembled the methods of footwork—
the turning of the body, the shifting of stance,
the subtle difference before and after movement.
A high art.
"I will teach you a few killing techniques, in case death comes for you."
"Thank you."
"When you defend, be simple. When you strike, be decisive. Leave no room for rising again."
"Yes."
"When you spared those men at the west gate, they returned to bite again."
Youngwoo recalled it.
"You knew?"
"I did."
"I thought I should not kill them. However foul they were, they were still our own."
"If you had killed them, there would have been no hatred left to return."
"Was it him… the one who moved Seo-seobang?"
"That, I do not know. But it is certain he led it."
"I understand. I will not forgive them."
Baek In-gyeom rose, leaving his final words behind, and handed him a small vial.
"Ah—I nearly forgot. If they use poison, and you do not know what it is, take this. It will slow the poison."
"So such things exist."
Baek In-gyeom gripped his shoulder.
"Remember this. If anything happens to you, that man dies as well. Do not hesitate. Stand as you are."
"I understand, Master."
Baek In-gyeom studied his face for a moment.
"You now bear the face of a true warrior."
Then, briefly, he drew him into an embrace.