Episode 5. A Stone Outside the Go Board

by God of Music · 2026-08-31

"Get out of the way!"

With a shout, one of Mount Hwa's elite disciples surged forward.

Every time he swung his sword, enemies were pushed back. However, masters of demonic arts also swarmed in from the opposite side. The air exploded, and dirt and blood surged together.

Mu-hyeon was completely lost in the chaos.

Whether to advance or hold the line, the commands were already drowned out by screams and unheard. Underfoot, he trod on corpses, indistinguishable whether they were familiar faces or not. The hand gripping his sword was slick with the blood of others and his own sweat.

The fact that Jin-gon was still by his side. That alone was a meager comfort.

But even that didn't last long.

"Mu-hyeon! Behind you!"

The moment Jin-gon's shout was heard, I instinctively turned around.

It was too late.

It was Jin-gon who blocked the sword of the rogue aiming for Mu-hyeon. The enemy's longsword deeply pierced Jin-gon's side.

A scream erupted.

Jin-gon's eyes widened as he coughed up a gush of blood. He moved his lips several times, but whatever he tried to say was unheard. He only managed to squeeze out his last strength and pushed Mu-hyeon away.

"Run… away…."

With that single word, Jin-gon's knees buckled.

His mind went blank.

He was the one who said he had people at home. He had an elderly mother and young siblings, which was why he couldn't run away. He was the one who said it was a hundred times better to live and earn food for his family, and who promised they would only think of returning alive. That man, leaving the words "run away," had taken a sword in Mu-hyeon's place and collapsed.

"Brother, brother!"

He knelt and shook the shoulder. There was no response. He only felt something hot gushing out from under his palm. He had to stop the bleeding. He had to call a physician. Someone was screaming that in a corner of his mind, but his hands only trembled and couldn't do anything. This wasn't the marketplace. There was no one to carry him on a door, nor a physician to run to. People were dying all around, and no one looked back at a fallen common soldier.

Just then, a familiar voice was heard.

"Maintain formation! Retreat and you die!"

It was Ju Myeong-su. He was still alive, shouting and driving people forward as usual.

It didn't last long.

A giant demonic cultist who had penetrated towards Mount Hwa swung a massive crescent blade, and its edge diagonally split Ju Myeong-su's chest from shoulder to waist. Ju Myeong-su paused for a moment, as if he couldn't believe his body had been split. Soon, blood gushed out, and his body collapsed like a sack of goods.

The instructor also died.

Jin-gon also died.

And next, it was him.

The fear was so vivid that he could no longer think of anything else. Formation, military discipline, desertion, execution — everything vanished from his mind. Only one thing remained. The beast-like instinct to live.

Mu-hyeon turned his back.

"That guy's running away!"

Someone yelled from behind, but I didn't look back. I ran like crazy. I trampled over fallen corpses, and ran as if rolling over the ground slick with blood. Without distinguishing who was an ally and who was an enemy, I just ran towards where there were fewer people, where fewer swords flew.

I didn't let go of the black hand the whole time I was running. I didn't know if I couldn't think of throwing it away, or if I didn't have time to throw it away. When a shadow holding a spear suddenly appeared in front of me, my body moved before I could think. Half a step with my left foot. The tip of the sword extended, the shadow moved aside, and I slipped through the gap. That was all I had learned, and all of it worked once.

The terrain beneath my feet was gradually lowering.

Down the hill. Towards the gorge.

The sound of water, which I had only heard from afar when I first entered the battlefield, grew louder and louder.

KWA-AAAAAH.

The roar of water, like an animal's cry, grew closer. The ground turned into a bumpy stone field, and ahead, the ground had already sunk deeply, revealing the edge of a cliff. A hazy mist of water was rising from below.

I couldn't stop.

I heard footsteps chasing me from behind. I didn't know if they were from the Sa-pa or allies. But it was clear that someone had swung a sword at me.

Thwack!

It felt as if a hot fireball had embedded itself in my back.

"Kuaaak!"

The moment the blade deeply grazed my back, my body bent forward. Stone fragments crumbled beneath my stumbling feet.

Instinctively, I reached out my hand to grab onto the empty air.

There was nothing for my fingertips to catch.

The world turned upside down.

My body tumbled down the cliff.

CRASH!

His back hit a rock, and his rebounding body scraped the cliff face again. All the air in his lungs was squeezed out, and the metallic taste of blood spread throughout his mouth. The sky, the cliff, and the shadows of the battlefield swirled together. A pain like something breaking shot through his entire body.

And then, a deafening roar that seemed to tear his ears.

It was a waterfall.

A massive torrent of water pouring down a thousand feet shimmered distantly at the edge of his vision.

He watched it with blurring eyes.

'Ah, that's it.'

He might die before he even reached it. Even if he survived, being caught in that current would be the end. In the end, death was the same either way.

The time he spent falling felt strangely long.

In that elongated moment, things that didn't matter passed through his mind. The yawn he swallowed in front of the guest house. His grandmother's dry hand stroking his back by the brazier. Wang Cheol-san's snort, saying he looked like a dead fish. Jin-gon's face, lowering his voice, telling him to run away at the crossroads.

Should he have run away then?

No, if he had, Brother Jin-gon would have been alone from the crossroads. Without anyone to push him away at the end.

He could never know which was right. But one thing was clear: he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to his brother.

He painfully exhaled a breath mixed with blood.

He was a gatekeeper. It had been barely a month since he first held a sword. Today was the first and last time he had ever cut down a person. He couldn't save the one person he was supposed to protect, and it cost him his life just to follow that one command to run away.

'What a pathetic end, indeed.'

Something akin to a smile touched his lips.

With that last thought, his consciousness was cut off as if by a knife, plunging into darkness.

"Ugh..."

He opened his eyes with a low groan.

The first thought that came to mind was singular.

Is this the underworld?

The scenery beyond his blurry vision was not of the human world. He was surrounded by fog, but it wasn't just any fog. White and blue light mingled, suspended in the air, and within it, countless lines twisted and untwisted, forming a giant checkerboard pattern.

Someone was beyond the fog.

In the middle of the vast emptiness, an old pavilion floated. It was a pavilion built neither on clouds nor on land. Inside, an old man in white clothes was placing a Go stone, and across from him, a middle-aged man in a *dopo* (道袍) frowned, glaring at the board.

Clack.

The sound of a Go stone being placed echoed.

With that brief sound, the pain that had been crushing Mu-hyeon ceased. Or rather, it felt as if it had ceased. His body was still heavy and his breathing labored, but the pain that had been tearing at his back and the bone-crushing ache from moments ago had miraculously faded away. At the same time, his body slowly slid towards the pavilion, against his will.

The old man in white raised his head.

"Huh."

A short exclamation echoed like thunder.

The man in the *dopo* also looked up. He openly frowned as soon as he saw Mu-hyeon.

"What fell?"

"It seems to be a person."

"I see. What I mean is, how did a living child drift in here?"

Muhyeon opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Perhaps it was because he had lost too much blood, or because the sight before him was too surreal, he couldn't even tell if he was still alive.

The old man in white flicked his finger once.

Then, his body dropped with a thud onto a non-floor in front of the pavilion. He definitely touched something, but there was no sensation of soil or stone. It felt as if he had been thrown onto a floor made by forcibly compacting clouds.

"He's on the verge of death."

"Indeed."

"He barely caught himself in the gap."

The two looked down at Muhyeon as if he were a piece of luggage that had rolled onto the roadside.

A moment later, the mist outside the pavilion rippled again.

Only her hair was white, but her face still looked like a woman in her twenties. An old woman walked out, followed by a giant old man with shoulders as wide as mountains, yawning. The old woman's eyes were sharp, and the giant old man looked half-asleep, but each step he took was as heavy as a mountain moving.

The old woman looked at Muhyeon and showed a surprised expression for a moment. Soon, her eyebrows shot up.

"Did you drop a stone off the go board again? I knew a day like this would come again!"

The old man in white narrowed his eyes.

"It wasn't me."

The old woman immediately glared at the man in the *dopo*.

"Then it must be you."

"No. This move isn't mine."

"Then are you suggesting the go stone rolled out on its own?"

They raised their voices as if they had forgotten that Muhyeon was listening.

He barely managed to lift his eyelids and look at them.

They were immortals.

Though they had human forms, they were too different to be called human. Every time they exchanged words, the surrounding mist rippled like waves, and every time they twitched their fingertips, the lines in the air moved like Go stones. It seemed as if the principles of heaven and earth were playing in their hands.

Only then did he vaguely realize.

I must have died after all. This must be the underworld I've only heard about.

However, listening to their words, it seemed to be a place slightly different from the underworld he was supposed to go to. He couldn't even distinguish if it was a fleeting path, or a rift where no living human should have come in the first place.

The old man in white robes looked down at Muhyeon's face and mumbled.

"Interesting. He should have died by now, but there's still a thread left."

The man in the 'dopo' snorted.

"He's just a trivial human. We should just let him go."

At that moment, the old woman stared intently at Muhyeon.

The fiery gaze she had moments ago softened for a brief moment.

"What a truly pitiful child."

At that single remark, his heart welled up.

For some reason, he was reminded of his grandmother, who had raised him in place of his parents who had passed away early, and who had died last year. She was a person who, even if she starved, would first ensure a spoonful of porridge for her grandchild. The only warm memories in Muhyeon's life suddenly flooded back.

The old woman hardened her face again and glared at the two inside the pavilion.

"How many times have I told you not to play Go here? You dropped the Go stones incorrectly, creating a rift in space, and this child flowed in through that rift. What are you going to do now?"

The man in the 'dopo' rested his chin on his hand and mumbled.

"Huh, it is a big problem indeed. There's no suitable way to send him back."

The old man in white was indifferent.

"Just let him naturally flow to where he needs to go. He's destined to die even if he returns to the human world anyway."

"It's not something to speak of so lightly."

The old woman's voice lowered.

"For a living soul to be caught in this rift means that, at the very least, his heavenly mandate has not been completely severed."

Only then did the large old man look down at Muhyeon with interest.

"Hmm."

He bent down and lightly poked Muhyeon's forehead with his finger, then chuckled.

"It's empty."

"What are you talking about?"

"The vessel."

The giant old man spoke slowly.

"He has no internal energy, his qi and blood are a mess, and his bones and muscles aren't particularly outstanding. Yet, he's strangely empty. There's nothing there; rather, he's a vessel that can hold anything."

The old man in white scoffed.

"Such a fellow breaks more easily."

"That's because your methods are too rough."

The old woman interjected.

"There's no way to send this child back now anyway. Time here is different from the human world, so we can let the child stay until they find their own path."

The man in the do-po clicked his tongue.

"What do you intend to teach a pure white human who knows nothing?"

The old woman tapped the floor with the tip of her staff.

"We can teach him."

Silence descended.

It was a different kind of silence from the bickering just moments ago. Mu-hyeon, with blurring eyes, saw the immortals' gazes all turn to the old man in white.

The old man in white was only looking down at the Go board.

"Teach them, you say."

A low voice cut through the mist.

"Two hundred years ago, someone said something similar."

The old woman's staff paused in mid-air. The man in the *dopo* silently folded his fan.

"Back then, they also called it an empty vessel. Said it could hold anything because it was empty. So I filled it. I know better than anyone here what became of that child."

No one answered.

"I will never teach a human again."

The old man in white silently placed a Go stone on the board, as if to signal the end of the discussion.

The old woman raised her eyebrows.

"This child isn't that child."

"We flowed into the same place, through the same crack. That is enough for me."

The man in the 'dopo' quietly opened his mouth.

"There is also the issue of 'beopdo' (law/custom). Merely bringing a living person here has already crossed a boundary; if we teach him and send him back to the world, that would be meddling with the human realm."

"Who meddled with the board first?"

The giant old man yawned and mumbled. It was as if he was asking who had dropped a stone while playing 'baduk' (Go). The man in the 'dopo' furrowed his brow deeply. However, instead of backing down, he glanced down at Mu-hyeon.

"Let's concede a hundred steps and say we teach him and send him back. Where is the guarantee that this child will return to the exact time and place he left? Cracks do not open according to human calculations. It could be a month later, or a hundred years later. If we drop him into a world where not a single familiar face remains, can that truly be called saving him?"

Silence fell upon the pavilion once more. This time, even the old man in white did not speak. It was not a silence of refutation, but of agreement.

It was the old woman who broke the silence.

"When it will fall is not for us to decide."

"..."

"Heaven decides. This child is caught in this rift with their heavenly mandate unbroken. That means Heaven has left a place for this child to be used. So, when and where to place this stone is also Heaven's business. It's not for us to worry about."

The man in the do-po opened his mouth to retort but then closed it. For someone whose profession was Go, there was nothing harder to refute than the statement that the one holding the board decides where to place the stones.

The old woman tapped the floor with her staff. Clack. It was a sound that cut off the argument.

"This is not something to argue about. It's not too late to decide whether or not to teach later. Even if a vessel is empty, you must look inside to know if it's a vessel that can hold anything."

"Huh."

A hollow laugh of disbelief echoed in the pavilion.

Mu-hyeon's lips twitched as if to say something. Where was this place, was he dead, or simply, that his older brother had died. Not a single sound could escape. The massive old man looked down at him and said indifferently.

"There's no need to rush. Here, there is plenty of time."

Mu-hyeon at that time did not understand the meaning of those words.

Fragmented words swirled in his consciousness as he drifted back into a deep sleep.

Teach, they said. Whom? Surely, not me. And who exactly was 'that child' from two hundred years ago?

He had no way of knowing whether this scene of immortals arguing over a dying gatekeeper was a dream or the afterlife.

Only, in his fading ears, the sound of a Go stone being placed echoed once more.

Clack.

Strangely, that sound resembled the sound of his grandmother cracking open chestnuts by the brazier last winter.