"If you trip and fall, just consider that spot your grave and keep practicing."
"Yes, Hero!"
Having realized the power of the footwork, Gu-sam excitedly and enthusiastically absorbed the teachings.
"Don't bend your waist too much. Don't put your weight on your front foot. If you do, you'll be slow to retreat. Why are you looking at the ground? No matter how hard it is, your gaze must be forward. Always keep your center of gravity in the middle of your body and maintain balance. That's the only way you can quickly advance and retreat in any direction."
Once his posture was somewhat stable, I also showed him how to pivot on his front and back foot to change direction.
"Wow, this is really amazing. What is the name of this footwork?"
"It doesn't have a name. Most masters move like this."
It's a footwork I learned not from a teacher, but by tumbling through real combat. If I had to give it a name, it would probably be something like the Eight Directions Step. It's not some great secret art, but if you master it completely, there's nothing better for actual combat.
Whether you use your fists or a sword, if your feet are fast, you can move a beat or two ahead of your opponent. In real combat, where life and death can be decided in half a beat, it was practically a life-saving technique.
"If you can properly execute the footwork to freely close and open the distance with your opponent, you will never lose."
"Yes! Hero!"
Gu-sam answered vigorously and diligently practiced the footwork. He had already mastered the basic forms. All that was left was practice.
To move like flowing water without freezing up in a life-or-death battle, he had to practice it endlessly until it was second nature. The simple movements, with nothing flashy, could have been boring, but Gu-sam shed beads of sweat and moved his body without rest. He didn't even ask how long he had to do it.
Sitting on the wooden floor, drinking cold tea and watching him, I felt a strange emotion. Since leaving my hometown, the only experience I'd had sharing what I had was with a few young beggars or some wandering swordsmen I could talk to. And even then, it was just drinks or a meal.
I thoroughly concealed the martial arts I learned and any hidden techniques I had. Everyone was like that.
It was only natural to be wary of amoral criminals who might stab you in the back at any moment, even while working together, let alone after the job was done, just because we happened to be sharing a meal for a while. It was a peaceful afternoon.
The sunlight was warm, and the breeze coming down from the mountain was calm and cool. Gu-sam didn't stop until the blue sky was painted red by the sunset.
"The sun is setting. Aren't you going back to the inn? You have to work the evening shift."
Only then did Gu-sam come to his senses, startled, and run into the room. He came out with the empty bamboo lunch box and water bottle wrapped in a cloth and hurriedly bowed.
"Um, Ma— no, Hero, may I come again tomorrow?"
"Come at the same time to deliver food. Pay the innkeeper properly with the money I gave you earlier. If you get caught stealing food, I won't see you anymore."
"Yes! Don't worry. The owner will be happy to have a regular customer."
Gu-sam, who was hurrying away, turned back at the gate and bowed deeply from the waist.
"Hero, thank you!"
"Alright, hurry along."
After sending Gu-sam off, I closed the gate. The yard, now sunk in silence, felt strangely empty. I was about to go inside, but I paused.
Countless footprints packed into the dirt ground. After watching for a moment, I brought out my long blade and drew it in the twilight. Gazing at the blood-red sky burning beyond the wall, I slowly took a sword stance.
I executed the Nameless Saber Technique, stepping through the footwork. The eighteen forms flowed on, repeating expansion and contraction in time with my exhales and inhales. The movements of the sword, stirring in all directions, sometimes became angry waves crashing against a cliff, and sometimes became clouds leisurely drifting across the vast sky.
Although it was an extremely practical and deadly sword art, the more I used it, the broader and deeper the truth within it became. I couldn't understand it all yet, but it felt like creating a shallow stream with water drawn from a well that never runs dry.
I was sure I could create a great river, but a stream was my limit for now. The sunset faded into darkness, and from somewhere, the moon rose.
Whoooosh!
On the blade that cut the darkness, moonlight gathered and vanished in an instant, like a night flower that blooms and wilts in a flash. * Perhaps because he was practicing in his spare time at the inn, Gu-sam's footwork became more skillful by the day. Still, he couldn't even lay a hand on my body.
"Haaah, why isn't this working?"
Gu-sam, exhausted, lamented with a look of despair.
"It's because your moves are too obvious."
"Moves? Ah, feints and real attacks! That's it! Right?"
"If you gathered all the things you've overheard, you could probably create a secret manual."
"I'll try again!"
On the ninth day of having food delivered daily and making him practice the footwork, Gu-sam's hand finally touched my upper garment.
"Heok heok, now... fist and foot techniques. I get to learn them, right?"
Having barely passed the test by rushing at me like a madman without rest for a full half-hour, Gu-sam collapsed onto the ground. Even as he gasped for breath, Gu-sam smiled proudly. His face, dirty with sweat and dust, was filled with a sense of accomplishment and overwhelming joy.
It wasn't an achievement he'd earned solely with his own skill. It seemed like it would take years at this rate, so at the end, I deliberately slowed my steps and let him catch me. Still, it was true that Gu-sam's movements were more agile than before.
His footwork didn't break down even at the end.
"Get up. Time for fist and foot techniques."
"Yes... Ugh."
The way to use one's fists was simple. From the basic Eight Directions Step stance, with the left foot one step forward, you slightly twist your upper body to the right and raise both hands. The left hand faces forward with the left foot, and the right hand is naturally placed below the chin.
From that stance, you move according to the footwork, dodging or blocking the opponent's attacks, and thrust your fist into their openings. Just like the footwork, it was simple and easy to learn, but to use it properly, there was no other way than endless, repetitive practice.
Gu-sam, who was diligently moving in all directions and throwing punches, kicking up dust, stopped and looked back.
"But Hero, what kind of fist art is this?"
"It doesn't have a name."
"Huh? The fist art too? Is there anything in the world without a name?"
It was a strangely piercing question. But I didn't feel like giving it a name now.
"Instead of worrying about that, just practice."
"Yes!"
A few days later, Gu-sam came to deliver food with more bruises on his face.
"That damn guy from the cloth shop started a fight, so we had a go at it."
"Did you win?"
"No. But I landed a few hits. Hehe."
Gu-sam rubbed his bruised eyelid gently, looking disappointed, but his expression wasn't bad. There was a light in his eyes. Until now, his days had been bleak, filled with nothing but one-sided beatings.
Now, every day was a hopeful one, his heart pounding as he grew stronger than the day before. From what I heard, even after returning to the inn, he was saving time from sleep to practice the footwork and how to use his fists.
The day was not far off when he would knock down his nemesis and unleash all his pent-up frustration. Gu-sam pressed on without rest toward the glorious moment when he would command the alleys of the Western Village. After finishing our meal, we went out to the yard and stood facing each other.
"Try a kick."
"Like this?"
Gu-sam awkwardly raised his foot. It was an unsightly sight.
"You're not even fully grown, why are your joints so stiff? Even a drunkard kicking at a barking dog could raise his leg higher than that."
"Hehe, is that so? I've been busy trying to make a living."
"Let's start by stretching your legs."
"What? My legs? Ah, Hero, now that I think about it, I don't think I really need the foot techniques... Aaaaaaaah!!"
I pinned the fleeing Gu-sam against the wall and pressed down from above, forcing his legs into a split. Fortunately, his bones hadn't fully hardened yet, so his legs stretched out completely after just a few attempts. After teaching him for about half a day, his kicks started to look decent.
Having learned the footwork, punches, and now kicks, Gu-sam puffed out his chest as if he'd obtained some world-shaking divine art.
"Wow, I feel like I could even win a fight against a robber with a sword."
"You can't." "Then what should I do when fighting someone with a sword?"
"You should be holding something in your hand too. A long blade, if possible."
"What if I have nothing?"
"You run."
At such realistic and uncool advice, Gu-sam could only blink, at a loss for words.
"Hero, I heard something from a customer once... In Kaifeng, there's a sect famous for its fist and foot techniques called the Iron Blood School. They say its leader shattered the Shaolin abbot's bamboo fan with his fists and even broke swords."
"He was probably wearing iron knuckles. Made of white lotus iron or refined steel."
"Things like that exist?"
"They exist. Rumors are just rumors. Don't believe anything you haven't seen with your own eyes. Now, practice."
"Yessir!"
Gu-sam diligently practiced the Eight Directions Step, unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks. After a few days of correcting his posture and having him practice simple but effective combination moves, we began to spar.
"Come."
With a tense face, Gu-sam clenched his small fists tightly and got into a stance.
"Here I come."
As I nodded, Gu-sam kicked off the ground and advanced, thrusting out his left arm like a jab. I leaned slightly to dodge, and his right fist flew at me immediately. Even though he had only been learning for a short time, his punches were quite sharp.
As I deflected it to the side, Gu-sam used his footwork to twist his body and close the distance in an instant. It was a recklessly bold move. His defense was sloppy, as if he believed I wouldn't counter-attack, just like when we were practicing footwork.
I reached for an opening a half-beat faster. A light tap on his forehead made Gu-sam flinch and hastily retreat. Perhaps his efforts hadn't been in vain, as his feet didn't get tangled, and he didn't fall.
Gu-sam rubbed his forehead and moved cautiously from side to side. Raising both hands to his face in a proper defensive stance, he charged again. This time, I didn't dodge and blocked his fist with my hand.
Even though his consecutive attacks were nullified, Gu-sam didn't give up and clenched his teeth. His fighting spirit was good, but his movements were too wide, and his vision was narrow. He was so focused on landing a hit that he couldn't maintain his own rhythm and was getting swept up in my movements.
When I brushed aside his deeply committed punch, Gu-sam lost his balance for a moment and staggered. When I extended my fist, he was startled and crossed his arms to block.
"Ouch!"
I gave him a knock on the head, and as he faltered, I tripped his leg and made him fall. Gu-sam shot back up, dusted himself off, and panted angrily.
"Where's the rule that says you can suddenly trip someone like a coward!"
"Are you going to say that in a real fight? You went through all that pain to stretch your legs, so use your feet."
Provoked, Gu-sam muttered something about body-flickering techniques and charged in, frivolously using his footwork to move in all directions. His face was slick with sweat, and his breathing was rough. He looked a little tired, but his gaze was more intense than ever.
I blocked his fists, deflected his kicks, poked his openings, and made him fall, continuing the spar for a long time. As I started to get into it, a slight smile unknowingly formed on my lips.
This kid.
He definitely has talent. His grit to stand up again no matter how many times he falls was good, and his fighting spirit as he strived toward his goal was quite something to see.
I liked that about him, so I didn't stop after a day or two and continued to make time for him, but that was as far as my teaching would go. With just this much, if he polishes it for a month or two, he'll find it hard to find an equal among the neighborhood kids.
From the next day on, I had Gu-sam practice alone while I did my own things. After slowly eating my meal and drinking tea, I went outside, briefly checked his posture, then went to the bamboo grove, cut some bamboo, and brought it back.
Sitting on the wooden floor, I split the bamboo with a dagger, folded a long leaf diagonally, and inserted a pin. I wasn't very deft with my hands in this regard, so I completely messed up the first few. I held up the pinwheel I barely managed to finish and blew on it.
Something was wrong, as it didn't spin properly. I scratched my head and pondered for a long while, and only after failing a few more times did I finally complete one. As the pinwheel spun around cheerfully, Gu-sam wiped the sweat from his forehead and trotted over.
"Wow, did you make this, Hero?"
"Can't you tell by looking?"
"Can I have one too?"
"If you win."
"Really?"
"Have you lived your whole life being deceived?"
"No." Gu-sam's expression turned serious.
I looked at the kid anew, then let out a chuckle. Then again, it was a world where you could live with being beaten, but not with being deceived. When effort was added to talent, the result soon followed.
Exactly seven days after that, Gu-sam finally achieved the accomplishment of a lifetime.