Training was hell.
The poleaxe wielder's morning practice of swinging his poleaxe did not even qualify as training. The first thing the tiger woman demanded was not the "strength of muscle," but the "use of bone and breath."
"Strike harder! Don't let the weight of the iron drag you down. I said, thrust into the mountain's breath!"
The woman shouted lazily from where she lay atop a rock in front of the cave. Strange, absurdly heavy iron rings the woman had brought from deep within the mountain were fastened around Wiho's ankles and wrists. With the weight of the stones added to his massive frame, the muscles in his thighs and shoulders screamed each time he swung the poleaxe.
Once the basic strength training was over, the "energy-piercing training" began.
He had to sit beneath a waterfall in a cold valley, letting the stream crash over his entire body while regulating his breathing. It was training to bring the stagnant spiritual energy gathered deep in his lower dantian into contact with the mountain's energy.
"Don't close your eyes. Don't try to overcome the water's flow. Make your body part of the mountain."
The woman pressed down hard on Wiho's back with her small hand as he trembled, soaked to the bone. Each time her hand touched him, energy like a ball of fire burst through his ice-cold body. Whenever that unfamiliar energy broke through his tightly blocked energy meridians, Wiho clenched his teeth and swallowed his screams.
At night, the training grew even stranger.
In a pitch-black cave where not even moonlight reached, or deep in the forest at night, he had to evade attacks from the tiger spirit followers the woman had set loose.
"In darkness, you don't see with your eyes. Read the flow of blood, the texture of the wind, and the breath of beasts."
For the first few months, the tigers' claws tore his clothes and covered his body in bruises. But after the third month, a strange change occurred. Even in the darkness, the beasts' outlines began to appear as bluish trails. He had begun to "see clearly" through the night with his senses rather than his eyes.
Starting in the fourth month, speed training was added.
He had to strike at falling leaves with the tip of his poleaxe the instant they dropped, or leap like a tiger between cliffs and steep rocks. Once the divine spirit power was added to the weight generated by his six-foot frame, Wiho's movements gradually grew terrifyingly fast and agile.
About once every two months, Wiho went down to the township beneath the mountain to obtain salt, grain, and daily necessities for his training.
Whenever he entered the township carrying hides from beasts he had hunted in the mountain or rare medicinal herbs, the villagers were horrified. A terrifying man more than six feet tall, steeped in the blood and energy of mountain beasts, had come down from the mountain. Their reaction was only natural.
"T-that man... Is he a ghost or a goblin?"
At first, even the merchants trembled, trying to cheat him out of his goods or giving him a wide berth as they cleared the road. But Wiho remained silent. He paid a fair price, exchanged the goods without a word, and returned to the mountain.
By around his third visit, the township's people had begun to let down their guard.
"Hey, mountain man! Bring any good hides this time?"
"...Salt and rice will do."
The villagers approached him in response to Wiho's weighty, straightforward manner. They seemed to have decided he was an honest mountain man, though he looked a little slow on the uptake. On his way back after completing his trade, Wiho tucked into his robes a small honey taffy the friendly tavern owner had pressed into his hand.
When he returned to the cave and tossed it to her without ceremony, the woman snorted.
"You brought me this sugary trash made by lowly creatures?"
Even so, while Wiho was away training, the woman hid behind a rock and nibbled on the honey taffy, crumbs clinging to the corners of her mouth. Wiho pretended not to notice and polished his poleaxe.
Six months passed.
Two seasons changed, and the cold winds began blowing across Seoraksan once more.
One night after training, Wiho quietly watched the woman combing her hair atop the rock in front of the cave, bathed in moonlight. Her white hair gleamed in the reflected light, and her yellow eyes made her look exactly like a tiger in a snow-covered mountain.
"Why are you staring blankly? Is there honey powder on my face?"
The woman whipped around and snapped at him. Her tiger ears perked up.
"...You said you didn't have a name."
"So? I gave you the name 'Wiho.' Wasn't that enough?"
"I mean you."
Wiho planted the butt of his poleaxe on the ground as he spoke.
"It doesn't seem right to call you 'the master of this mountain' every time. Shouldn't you have a name of your own?"
The woman stopped combing her hair and looked up at Wiho. The chilly tension that had filled the space between them six months ago, when both were brimming with suspicion, had vanished without a trace. Their speech was still curt, but the wariness between them had already melted away like snow.
"You would give me a name? How dare a lowly creature presume to name a spirit deity?"
"I just want something easier to call you."
Wiho looked at the woman's white hair and the tiger ears glinting beneath the night sky, then tossed out the first name that came to him.
"Beomseol."
One of the woman's ears twitched sharply.
"...Beomseol?"
"Beom for tiger, seol for snow. It means the tiger of snow-covered Seoraksan. It suits your appearance perfectly."
The woman stared at Wiho for a long while, as if she had been rendered speechless. She raised her nose and tried to act haughty, but the tail thumping against the stone floor had not stopped moving for a moment.
"...Hmph. What a simple, thoughtless name. Exactly the sort of stale thing that would come out of a human's head."
Beomseol turned sharply and walked into the cave.
"If you don't like it, I won't call you that."
"Who said I don't like it!"
Beomseol's voice rang out from inside the cave.
"Call me whatever you want! It's my mountain anyway, and you're practically my disciple... Tsk."
Wiho sat at the cave entrance and gazed at the night sky, a quiet smile forming on his lips.
"Understood, Beomseol."
Over those six months, Wiho's body had already surpassed the limits of humanity by a wide margin. When he inhaled, he could feel the energy of the entire mountain entering deep into his lungs.
But their peaceful training would not last much longer. Down in the township beneath the mountain, the banners of the Goguryeo army had begun to move little by little.
"It reeks! Are you planning to burn down the whole mountain?"
"The meat won't cook otherwise."
"You're such a nuisance, honestly..."
Though she grumbled, the woman did not leave the cave. Instead, she rested her chin on the edge of the rock and stared intently at the meat roasting in the flames. Each time fat dripped down with a sizzle, her tail tapped against the stone floor. She could not hide her interest.
When the meat had browned nicely, the poleaxe wielder tore off a large piece, let it cool, and held it out to the woman.
"Would you like some?"
"Are you offering me food from my own mountain? Don't get the wrong idea. I'm only taking it because I happen to be accepting it, not because I particularly want to eat it."
Though she said that, the woman's hand moved faster than light. Snatching the meat with her fingertips, she took a small bite. For an instant, her eyes widened ever so slightly. Her ears stood straight up, and her tail brushed the rock with happy little swishes.
"...Not bad. I suppose using fire has its merits."
Without another word, the woman devoured a piece of meat in an instant. Then, perhaps embarrassed by herself, she cleared her throat and rested her chin on her hand again.
"I thought humans did a lot of pointless things... Still, I suppose they aren't entirely useless."
The poleaxe wielder swallowed a small laugh to himself and chewed the remaining meat. It was the first proper food he had eaten in days. He could feel his dulled senses gradually returning.
Several days passed.
Once his wounds had nearly healed, the poleaxe wielder swung his poleaxe every morning in the clearing before the cave. The arcs cut by the weapon wielded by his six-feet-three-inches frame were heavy. Each motion—cutting, thrusting, and shoving—came back as an echo through the mountain.
The woman would sit on the rock at the cave entrance and quietly watch him. Though she yawned as if bored, whenever the poleaxe wielder's weapon cleaved the air, her ears perked up and her eyes followed its arc.
"Too slow."
The woman suddenly tossed out the words. Wiho stopped and turned toward her.
"Too slow? It's not easy to reach this kind of speed with a polearm."
"To my eyes, it looks like a snail crawling. Your muscles and bones are sturdy, but that's all. You can't step into the earth's energy, and you can't ride the mountain's breath. All you're doing is wringing out your own strength and abusing that poor piece of iron."
The woman lightly hopped down from the rock. At roughly five feet three inches, she was not particularly small by human standards, but she looked distinctly petite beside the poleaxe wielder's six-foot frame. Yet she was in no way inferior in the weight of her presence.
"That Goguryeo commander you fought, and the strength you used to beat down my cubs—both are human techniques with clear limits. No matter how tough you are, it is strength that will grow old and wither as the years pass."
The poleaxe wielder adjusted his grip. The woman was not wrong. On the battlefield, even commanders hailed as invincible across the land died futilely from a single sword or arrow. Human strength had a definite wall.
"Then what should I do?"
"Who knows?"
The woman slowly circled the poleaxe wielder.
"You said you had no name."
"That's right. I'm only called the poleaxe wielder."
"A sword without a master, a shell without a name. You look stupid, and I don't like it."
The woman placed a finger against the poleaxe wielder's chest. A cold energy pierced through the fabric and reached his heart.
"From today onward, your name is Wiho."
"Wiho..."
"One who guards the tiger, or one protected by the tiger. Either interpretation is fine. I can no longer stand watching you wander around my mountain like a lowly creature, being called 'hey you' or 'poleaxe wielder' or some such nonsense. Take it as I say."
Wiho looked down at the woman's small hand against his chest.
No one had ever given him a name in his entire life. The generals of Silla and his fellow soldiers had all simply called him "Axe." Only the Goguryeo commander had offered to give him a name, and he had refused.
And yet the spirit deity of this mountain, this impossibly prickly tiger woman, had thrown a name at him.
"...Wiho."
Wiho mouthed the name over and over. Something warm seemed to resonate deep in his chest.
"Thank you."
"Hmph, there's no need to thank me. I chose it because it would be easier for me to call you. Don't get the wrong idea."
The woman spun around, her tail flicking. But the tips of her ears, shifting ever so slightly, were faintly stiff.
"Wiho."
"What is it?"
"Do you want to leave my mountain?"
Wiho took a moment to gather his thoughts. If he went down, where would he go? Should he return to the Silla army? But even if he went back with his current strength, he would still be nothing more than a nameless common soldier, dying while blocking some narrow passageway. The Goguryeo commander's words flashed through his mind. "A sword I cannot have must be broken."
The time was not yet right.
"If I go now, I'll only die like a dog. I need to grow stronger."
The corner of the woman's mouth lifted slightly. She tried to put on a haughty expression, but the interest shining in her yellow eyes could not be hidden.
"Oh? At least you know your place. You want to become stronger? You want strength that surpasses the limits of humanity?"
"If that's possible."
"Good. Watching you die on my mountain would be a nuisance, so train under me. I will teach you how to step on the earth, and how to draw the mountain's breath into your body."
The woman reached out and grasped the shaft of Wiho's poleaxe. As strength filled her small hand, the poleaxe shaft, harder than steel, began to tremble faintly.
"But don't run away crying just because I teach you harshly. Understand?"