One day, during a training session, the Sword Sovereign spoke to Wi Seol-ah.
"Seol-ah, the question isnât how to swing the sword but what you should imbue it with."
Hearing this, Wi Seol-ah tilted her head, puzzled.
She didnât understand.
Imbuing something into the sword?
A sword wasnât a vessel, so what could she possibly put into it?
As a child, Wi Seol-ah couldnât grasp the meaning.
Or rather, she chose not to understand. At the time, she was too impatient to think about anything beyond her immediate training.
It wasnât until Wi Seol-ah surpassed Hwagyeong that she began to understand her grandfatherâs words.
What kind of sword dance should she perform?
What path should her sword trace?
Where should she place her strength, and how should she guide her Qi?
Before pondering such techniques, she realized she needed to think about what she was putting into her sword.
What thoughts and emotions should she bring to her blade?
The Heavenly Master who taught her once said:
"A martial artist can be categorized by levels, but a swordsman cannot be defined so simply."
"What matters is how much of yourself you can pour into your sword. For a true swordsman, that is far more important."
How much of oneself could be placed into the blade?
It was a difficult concept, yet it was exactly as stated.
It was what they called Sword and Soul as Oneâthe dream of all swordsmen to unite with their blade.
She began to grasp the meaning when she first felt that alignment.
But stillâ
âTo place myself into the swordâ¦â
What does âmyselfâ even mean?
Even as she caught glimpses of understanding, she couldnât fully grasp it because Wi Seol-ah didnât know what âherselfâ truly was.
âWho am I?â
What exactly was she?
Wi Seol-ah pondered endlessly, but no matter how much she thought, she still didnât know.
Would she come to understand someday if she continued to reflect quietly?
And if she ever truly discovered who she wasâ
Would that change anything?
Wi Seol-ah found herself inexplicably afraid of the thought.
ââ¦â