Chương 53: A Letter from the Master

Written by Baek In-gyeom To Youngwoo. I hear that you have gone far from home and taken up the sword. Since that news reached me, there has not been a single day when my mind has rested in ease. The world is in turmoil, and it drives men toward the blade; this cannot be said to be your will alone. Since ancient times, in ages of chaos, there have been many who took up the sword, yet few who fulfilled their purpose in the end.

It may appear that the strong prevail, yet in truth it is those who do not lose their heart who endure. From your youth, your spirit was clear and your resolve upright, and the hand that held the sword did not waver. As I have often told you, the sword is not a thing meant merely to kill a man, but an instrument that tests the heart of the one who wields it. When you step onto the battlefield, the enemy stands before your eyes, and fear gathers behind your back; between the two, a man easily loses himself.

Therefore, the more you take up the sword, the more you must first hold fast to your own heart. There is another reason I write this letter. I have met the Khan, and I have heard him speak of you. He said that he wishes for you to remain among the Jurchen. He said that in you he sees the future of his people. He wishes to receive you with the honors due to a general. In return, he has said that he will halt the present war and withdraw his armies.

He has said that matters with Goryeo shall no longer be contested by the sword, but sought only through peaceful diplomacy. What he desires, he said, is the unification of the Jurchen. To cast off the yoke of Liao and stand independent. And one day, to advance upon the continent. To accomplish this, he said, it is not easy to obtain a warrior of true excellence. Thus he wishes to aid you, who still stand at the beginning of your path.

He said he would lay the foundation and open the road for you, so that in the end you might reach the state of Hwagyeong, the highest attainment. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. It was a declaration that he would stake the future of a nation upon a single man. I write this so that you may know. The world is ever calling to men. Yet the path of a man is something he must choose for himself. Take care of your body, and do not let your heart be clouded.

Written beneath the lamp, your master, Baek In-gyeom. When Youngwoo awoke in the morning and read the letter, he was seized by an intense hunger. His stomach was indeed empty, yet there was something more—a thirst that could not be put into words, drying him from within. He pushed aside the leather flap of the tent and stepped outside. Where a guard should have been standing, there was instead a maidservant.

"Food. Give me some food."

"Yes, of course." It was not the hour, and ordinarily he should have been turned away, or told that no meal was to be given to a prisoner. Yet her manner was excessively courteous.

"If you would wait just a moment, it will be prepared at once." Polite—overly polite. Only then, in the act of asking for food, did what he had read begin to take shape in his mind. The Khan wants me… and the choice is mine… For a brief moment, a thought crossed him—had his master cast him aside? No. That was not the kind of man he was. He stepped out and began to walk slowly. No one stopped him. It was, in effect, freedom. There were those who greeted him as he passed.

They smiled and offered their words as though he were a familiar neighbor. He made a circuit of the camp. It was not so different from the Goryeo army. The clothing, the weapons, the overall colors differed somewhat, yet in essence it was the same—men living their lives. The atmosphere had changed. He was no longer a prisoner. The memory of the fighting only days before stirred uneasily within him. As he walked as though on a quiet stroll, his thoughts flowed like a stream.

There would be no more fighting, they had said. All matters would now be settled through diplomacy. The Jurchen had given up much in order to bring him in. They had said they would never again invade Goryeo. As he circled back toward the tent, the maidservant approached him.

"Your morning meal is ready."

"Thank you." She was as courteous as one would be to a noble of the Jurchen. He entered the tent and sat down; she remained standing beside him.

"What has happened here? To treat a prisoner in such a manner…"

"There has been word that you are no longer a prisoner, but are to be treated as an honored guest." All the rumors he had heard about the Jurchen rose up like summer clouds. Ignorant. Savage. Lawless. Yet the world before his eyes was different. Had it been that only the unlawful face of the enemy had been magnified, again and again? A soldier's meal was always brief. One never knew what might happen. Youngwoo finished his food quickly. Leaning back against the support behind him, he was served tea.

"Tea? In a Jurchen camp?"

"It has come from Song."

"Truly?"

"Yes."

"Then… was this taken as plunder as well?"

"No." The maidservant smiled faintly. He had heard that much of Jurchen life was sustained by plunder, that there were many things this land did not produce, that it lacked the refinement born of skill and learning. Yet perhaps all of that had been prejudice. With warmth at his back and food in his stomach, his thoughts continued to unfold. As he sipped the tea, he felt almost like a nobleman.

Thoughts arise without warning, yet they do not continue in perfect order; one grasps at what can be held in the moment, and then, at some point, the mind comes to rest. Suddenly, he wished to meet his master and ask him: If a man is offered rank, wealth, and power enough to change the fate of a nation—what should he do? More than anything, if he were to remain among the Jurchen, the thread connecting him to his master might be severed.

He had sought to become a master of the sword in order to live, yet that path would no longer be open. Nor was that what they desired of him. And if he failed to become what they wanted, then the treatment he now received would not last. Another thought rose, unbidden. Should he not hunt down Yoon Ji-ung and that Seo bastard and kill them? Men who betrayed their own side and handed their comrades over to the enemy—could such men be allowed to walk the world as though nothing had happened?