Even the elders in the village can perform this Taijiquan.
"Noona(sister), how are you now?"
"Me? The same as always… They say I'm just a foolish woman with brute strength… I thought if I could channel internal energy into a weapon, that would be it—but that's not it at all. It just doesn't work."
Sowoon returned to his proper role.
"At that moment, did you try reciting the mnemonic verse? The one about breath and movement repeating together. Have you tried?"
"It doesn't work well. If I think about breathing, the movement falters. If I focus on movement, the breath and flow wander elsewhere…"
"Look. This is the basic form of Taijiquan."
Sowoon began to demonstrate.
It was that very movement—even elders in the neighborhood could perform it.
From a distance, a self-proclaimed Wudang Daoist twisted his lips at the mention of Taijiquan.
He had often invoked the name metaphorically.
To see it actually displayed unsettled him.
Taijiquan rests upon flow.
Flexibility and continuity are its essence.
Sowoon infused it with breath.
He laid inhalation and exhalation upon the movement.
He entrusted his body to the flow.
The simple form continued like water.
There was no break.
His martial art was not Taijiquan.
Yet in his hands it felt cool as a passing wind.
Like water descending to lower ground, it was natural.
With a single circling arm, energy swelled round and full—like an inflated balloon.
Full, yet light.
There was no sense of forced accumulation.
Yet it was not empty.
The breath of the onlookers stilled for a moment.
"You see."
Sowoon spoke without halting the motion.
"Whether this form or that form does not matter. I merely attached movements that match the breath. The essence is the breath."
His arms flowed in circles.
His fingertips sank gently.
"Form (形) is laid atop. So too is posture (勢). The essence is breath."
He inhaled slowly.
Not the chest, but the dantian moved first.
"This is not calisthenics. It is practice in learning breath."
He glanced around.
"Go slowly. And think. Think deeply."
The movement continued seamlessly.
"What shape does this breath desire? In what direction does it move first? Observe that."
His hands traced a natural circle.
"When thought deepens, the body follows. Awareness follows that flow."
His gaze was tranquil.
"Do not forcibly attach what comes next. It is already connected. Follow it as though reciting. That is enough."
He paused.
"Would you like to try here?"
Jimin's expression turned sharp.
Was this instruction—or criticism?
Instruction often sounds like reproach.
Perhaps that is why admonition feels worse than nagging.
She tried to comfort herself that Sowoon was not that kind of person.
Yet was he not pointing out that they were neglecting something simple?
"Then what does it become? If we do this—what does it lead to?"
Someone asked carefully.
Sowoon smiled.
"It would likely resemble what the world calls Unity of Body and Sword (身劍合一)."
He drew breath, then added,
"Unity of Body and Sword does not mean the body flies when the sword flies. It means they are placed upon each other. They flow together."
His fingertips flickered lightly.
"If I had directly witnessed true Unity of Body and Sword, I could speak with certainty. My understanding of other martial paths is limited. I cannot firmly declare yes or no."
His eyes remained calm.
"Still, perhaps it is that. I have not tried it myself. Some seem to think that if you leap with a sword, that's Unity of Body and Sword. If it goes bang, they call it sword energy. It's rather amusing. Ha."
A murmur spread.
Unity.
Unity of Body and Sword.
They had believed they had yet to solidify even the basics—
and now they brushed against a profound realm.
Jimin muttered to herself.
"Unity of Body and Sword… So that's why it's so difficult. Then perhaps there's no need to suffer over it. It's natural if it doesn't come."
Sowoon nodded.
"Do not strive to hoard qi. Accumulation (蓄氣) exists so that it may flow."
He lowered his hands slowly.
"The moment you try to grasp it, it blocks. Entrust it—to nature, to the earth, to the wind."
Jimin answered clearly.
"I understand, Young Master."
She sprang to her feet.
"Where are you going?"
"To practice."
Sowoon laughed and waved his hand.
"Rest first. Thought (念) comes before movement. The strength to concentrate thought matters more. Thought and breath—and from them, living respiration (息)."
The air beneath the canopy quieted.
"Sit still. Let it settle. You must enter stillness (靜)."
Jimin sat back down.
Her eyes half-closed, she regulated her breath and sank into thought.
Sowoon added nothing more.
He sat beside her.
He hoped that his own study of breath might aid hers.
Jimin did not move all afternoon.
She sat blankly, like a frog that had wandered from its pond.
Outwardly, it appeared she did nothing.
Yet within that stillness, something moved.
Those who conversed with Sowoon often became like this.
For a time, they seemed dazed.
Then, little by little, they changed.
They advanced of their own accord.
One day, suddenly,
they discovered themselves altered.
As Sowoon taught others, his own speech increased.
Time spent explaining grew.
Thought became organized.
Language became clear.
To articulate meant already to understand.
To express in words meant it had been ordered within the body.
The process reorganized his own martial art.
Teaching was for others—
yet at the same time, it refined himself.