What Is the General Compendium – Qi Perception (氣感)
"What is the Compendium?"
Princess So-hye entered the dining hall and finally gave voice to her curiosity.
The men, unaware that she was a princess, answered casually.
"It is a martial manual that gathers and systematizes the finest teachings of East and West, ancient and modern."
She covered her mouth and let out a small laugh.
She was careful not to let it sound like mockery.
"Surely such a thing doesn't really exist?"
No matter how she searched her memory, she had never heard of such a book.
At best, she assumed it was some reorganized military training manual given a grand name.
Yet the pride in the Baekryongdae soldiers' faces was unmistakable.
To them, receiving a secret manual was no small matter.
"Of course it exists. You could call it the essence of imperial martial arts."
The man answered briefly, took his meal, and continued muttering even as he sat down.
They recited.
They repeated.
They questioned each other on unclear passages.
Memorizing it once meant nothing.
They had to be able to recite it at any moment.
Only repetition would make it truly theirs.
"You all seem very fond of that secret manual."
"For low-rank fighters like us, it's something we would never even glimpse in a lifetime. And yet—we received it…"
They barely listened to her reply.
They nodded vaguely and returned to their own world.
Many hardly touched their food.
So-un had not even come inside.
He remained in the training yard.
Nearly half the men had failed to memorize their assigned sections.
Their faces held humiliation, greed, frustration, and stubborn resolve.
The looks they cast at those who had passed were almost tragic.
How long could one maintain horse stance with arms raised, reading aloud?
"Idiots…"
Lee Hee muttered under his breath.
Then he called a halt to what was either training—or punishment.
"Go eat. The last ten back will stay up all night."
"Yes!"
More than a hundred men rushed toward the dining hall.
Lee Hee did not openly speak of Qi perception, but that was precisely his aim.
Contemplative stillness—reciting incantations while holding posture, until one felt the stirring of Qi.
So-un had begun to surpass others because he constantly recited the verses, thinking and breathing through them.
If the others could imitate that—even imperfectly—they might lay a foundation.
They could not sit beneath blooming plum trees like the sons of noble martial families, cultivating fragrance in their blades.
They could not plant plum trees and wait for seasons to pass.
They had no luxury to gamble their lives on uncertain enlightenment.
The Baekryongdae had only one method.
Training.
And more training.
There would be no elixirs.
No miraculous pills.
No slow, effortless accumulation of inner power.
What they possessed was a single body.
And experience—more battlefield experience than almost any force on the continent.
Close combat.
Formation warfare.
Survival.
Lee Hee chose the crude but certain path.
Drive them through training.
Hope that the Compendium would awaken something within them.
One hundred and twenty returned soldiers.
Each had his reason for refusing to go home.
No home to return to.
Or only poverty and indifference waiting there.
Loyalty.
Brotherhood.
Or simply the first place in life where they had been treated like men.
For a moment, Lee Hee's eyes grew clear.
He might not be able to protect them forever.
He might not be able to feed them properly.
The army's official support was gone.
Any new patron would demand payment.
And that payment might be blood.
He swallowed tears no one could see.
Then suddenly he stood.
"Damn it! Why are you still standing there? Move!"
What burst from him was profanity.
Softness did not suit him; it emerged as harshness.
He gathered the thirty who had memorized their sections.
"You memorized it. But you haven't trained."
"We memorized everything, sir."
"Do you think memorizing it makes you stronger?"
Silence.
"You need practice."
"Yes, sir."
Some already touched the hilts at their waists, eager to try the techniques.
"Forget your previous training. Inner power doesn't grow like that. First—you must feel Qi. Qi perception. Without that, nothing follows."
He continued:
"Some will feel it quickly. Some will take a year just to sense it. Even heirs of great families struggle. We are different. We are forged in battle."
The thirty faces hardened.
"Horse stance. Eyes closed. Recite the incantation. Spine straight. Breathe long and thin. Follow the verses. You'll see nothing but darkness inside. That's fine. There will come a moment when something shifts. Endure until then."
He paused.
"And anyone who stands up early—I'll split your forehead."
Thirty men formed two rings around the bonfire.
Flames painted their faces red.
The rest of the estate sank into darkness.
"Will this truly work?"
"The beginning is everything. The beginning is Qi perception. Once Qi is felt, martial skill, breath, inner power—even that manual—come alive."
Perhaps his words struck home.
Their expressions changed.
This was no longer forced obedience.
It was willingness.
Success and failure hinge on voluntary resolve.
Compelled effort has limits.
Chosen hardship does not.
They closed their eyes.
Horse stance.
Flames crackling before them.
Beyond the western wing, night deepened.
But within that small courtyard,
someone, perhaps for the first time,
was searching for Qi氣