The Mountain Guest taught Vale one final movement.
It was not a technique.
It had no form.
He called it Sweeping the Six Directions.
"Up, down, left, right, front, back," the Guest said, standing in the clearing. "Most fighters guard one or two. Masters guard four."
He stepped slowly, turning once.
"This movement guards none," he continued. "It removes the need for guarding."
Vale watched carefully.
The Guest did not swing.
He did not cut.
He simply shifted.
The air around him folded subtly, as though the space itself had been tidied.
"Six directions are not positions," the Guest said. "They are relationships."
Vale mirrored the step.
Too much intent.
The Guest shook his head. "You are still acting."
Vale exhaled and let his posture soften.
He shifted again.
This time, the world adjusted around him.
No sound followed.
No echo.
The Guest nodded once. "Good. That is enough."
Vale's breath caught. "Enough?"
"You are not meant to stay," the Guest said. "If you linger, this place will teach you nothing more."
Vale bowed deeply.
"This movement," the Guest added, "will save your life when you do not know where danger comes from."
Vale memorized the feeling rather than the motion.