Wudang Sacred Scriptures-Chapter 55

As Kwak Yeon made his way back to the Three Spirits Palace, he thought of Elder Yunhak Jin’s cold, snake-like gaze when he had been sent up the mountain.

Why?

The feeling of injustice and suffocating frustration weighed heavily on him.

He had given everything, believing the Wudang Sect was his home, his family — so why did it seem like they were so desperate to drive him out?

Kwak Yeon recalled the father who had sold him off for three nyang of silver.

Back then, he had been too young, too soft-hearted to even say he didn’t want to go.

But from the moment he set foot on Mount Wudang, he had vowed he would never be cast out again.

I will never surrender.

He vowed that he would not give up training at the True Martial Hall.

It wasn’t enough just to accumulate Internal Energy. He couldn’t live like Daoist Cheongmu, using Internal Energy just for day-to-day survival.

He had to master martial arts.

But how...?

As the saying went, “When desperate, a way appears.”

Suddenly, an idea struck him.

No rule said martial arts could only be learned from a master.

He might not know the oral formulas, but there was still a path to learning martial movements.

Movements that could be broken down clearly and observed.

The next day, just as before, Kwak Yeon descended to the Cheongsu Training Hall.

When Daoist Hyeonho saw him again, standing there like a sack of barley stuffed into the corner of the courtyard, he frowned deeply.

“You still haven't learned any forms, have you?”

It was only to be expected.

How could the hermits of Three Spirits Palace, who spent their days meditating on breath and chewing fasting pills, know anything of martial forms?

“Master, is it truly alright to leave him like this?” asked his disciple, Cheongjin, unable to hide his discomfort.

“What troubles you?” Hyeonho replied, his voice cold.

“It seems he’s trying to memorize the forms by sight.”

Hyeonho snorted, unconcerned.

“Anyone can mimic a movement. Without the oral formulas, it’s pointless.”

“Yes, but still...”

Cheongjin, who had to see Kwak Yeon every single day without fail, was beginning to feel the strain.

For a month now, he had come every day, rain or shine.

Unlike Hyeonho, who only occasionally appeared, Cheongjin had to endure the daily reminder.

“Let him be. He’ll tire himself out.”

“......”

“Focus on correcting the trainees' postures instead.”

“Yes, Master.”

Daoist Hyeonho gave Cheongjin a dissatisfied glance and turned toward the hall’s entrance.

Cheongjin had been forced upon him — an unwanted disciple he had no choice but to accept.

Remembering that left a bitter taste in Hyeonho’s mouth.

Cheongjin had shown promise among the students of the academy, catching the eye of the True Martial Hall’s master, and was assigned to Hyeonho — the lowest-ranked disciple at the time.

No matter how talented, his origins had predetermined his future.

Moreover, there had been rumors of his involvement in an unsavory incident back at the academy.

Accepting such a disciple had been a blow to Hyeonho’s pride.

Still, Cheongjin was diligent, hardworking, and useful for errands, if nothing else.

Though he occasionally, like now, overstepped his bounds, which grated on Hyeonho’s nerves.

I’ll have to start visiting the hall less often, Hyeonho decided.

There’s nothing pleasant to see there anyway.

****

As Kwak Yeon watched the trainees of Shinryongban performing the movements of the Tai Chi Sword Technique, Cheongjin approached him.

“Why don’t you stop coming here?”

“I’m fine.”

Cheongjin looked at him for a moment, then let out a sigh.

“Hoo... Honestly, I feel bad. It’s uncomfortable.”

Kwak Yeon bowed respectfully at the sincerity behind Cheongjin’s words.

“Thank you.”

After a brief hesitation, Cheongjin asked,

“You really are trying to learn by watching, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

Cheongjin, seeing Kwak Yeon’s straightforward response, sighed again.

“I should tell you it’s a wasted effort.

You might mimic the movements by sight, but without the oral formulas, it’ll be poison, not skill.”

“Thank you for your guidance.”

Moved by Kwak Yeon’s sincerity, Cheongjin returned the bow.

“Hyeonmu, may I ask one thing?” Kwak Yeon said respectfully.

“Go ahead.”

“Is it possible to break down the forms into smaller parts?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering... the movements always seem to be taught as a full sequence, but in actual combat, it seems rare one would use them all at once.”

“You’re quite right.”

“......”

“Originally, martial arts are meant to be used as single movements. But techniques must be connected seamlessly.

Without adjusting the transitions, they won’t link naturally.

That’s why they evolved into 'forms' — sequences.

But of course, they can be broken down.

You can have a form of one movement, three, or four — however many you need.

In the end, martial arts are about adaptation.”

“Ah!”

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“Still, the traditional forms are the most proven methods.

If you carelessly cut or extend them, your efficiency will drop.

Perhaps after you've truly mastered them, it would be a different story.”

“Thank you. That answered my question.”

Cheongjin felt a pang of regret.

But he could not teach or guide Kwak Yeon — that was the Master's command.

“No matter how much we share the same Daoist lineage, in this hall, you’re considered just another trainee.

Personally, I would have taught you, but...”

“I truly understand. I know it’s not your fault, Senior Brother.”

After a moment of silent regard, Cheongjin spoke.

“If you have other questions, feel free to ask.

No one said I couldn't answer your curiosity.”

****

When Kwak Yeon returned to the Three Spirits Palace, Daoist Cheongmu was already waiting for him at the Cheongjin Bridge.

“Junior Uncle, why are you so late today?”

“Senior Brother Cheongmu, did something happen at the palace?”

“Something happen? What do you mean?”

“I just thought so because you came all the way here to meet me.”

“Ahaha! Nothing happened.

You were just later than usual.”

Only then did Kwak Yeon realize that Cheongmu had been waiting for him at this time every day.

It was the lingering unease in his heart.

“Senior Brother, I will never leave without saying goodbye.”

“I know. We made a promise.”

It was heartbreaking.

Lately, left alone to guard the palace, Cheongmu had grown even more attached.

“Is Daoist Hyehae still in meditation?”

“Yes.”

“And what about Young-a?”

“She left... and hasn’t come back.”

Kwak Yeon glanced up at the Purity Hall where Daoist Hyehae was meditating.

Nothing bad has happened... right?

After achieving the Yin Spirit Transformation, the Palace Lord, Kwak Yeon heard from Daoist Hyehae, had thrown herself even more deeply into cultivation.

It meant she was nearing the moment of Ascension.

Feathered Transformation and Ascension.

For the one ascending, it was transcendence.

But for those left behind, it meant something much harsher.

The cruelest farewell.

Death.

A heavy sadness settled over Kwak Yeon’s chest.

"Junior Uncle, let’s go gather some Songam mushrooms today."

"You know we can't leave the palace unattended."

"Aww! I was going to teach you how to leap over rocks in a single jump today!"

"Daoist Hyehae will finish his meditation soon. Teach me then.

For now, please go alone."

"Alright."

After Cheongmu left, Kwak Yeon remained in the courtyard, gripping his wooden sword and beginning the movements of the Tai Chi Sword Technique.

Nothing cleared a heavy heart better than training.

Thanks to Instructor Cheongjin, he now understood the structure of the forms, allowing him to focus completely on their flow.

Martial arts forms were not arbitrary.

They were refined through countless real battles.

It was after fully mastering these forms that one could naturally adapt them and improvise.

Kwak Yeon became more and more absorbed in the Tai Chi Sword.

The deeper he went into the practice, the more certain he became —

every movement was designed to open the body's meridian pathways.

He couldn't help but be amazed.

Posture is everything.

Instructor Cheongjin’s sharp corrections of the trainees' stances now made perfect sense.

Kwak Yeon moved without pause, endlessly unfolding the Tai Chi Sword forms.

He knew: understanding was one thing, but true mastery came only through relentless repetition.

Even without formal guidance, his movements grew sharper, his stances more perfect.

Because with every breath and step, he was matching the flow of his Celestial Meridian Map.

Whenever he sensed the slightest deviation, he stopped and corrected it.

And then — suddenly —

his Internal Energy stirred.

It twitched inside him, eager to respond.

Kwak Yeon gritted his teeth and suppressed it.

It was dangerous to move Internal Energy without knowing the oral formulas.

He forced down the temptation, and continued training with only his body’s strength.

—Ssshhht!

He burned through every ounce of energy he had left.

Thud!

Kwak Yeon collapsed flat onto his back.

The sky spun above him.

His body felt like it was sinking into the earth.

Gasp, gasp!

He shut his eyes, struggling to catch his breath.

The usual teachings about calming his breathing were useless now.

Not even the fierce training could calm the storm inside him.

Without the oral formulas, I can't unleash my Internal Energy properly.

Watching could teach him the names and movements,

but not the secret chants that truly opened the body.

I’ll find a way.

Just like I always have.

He had accumulated over ten years’ worth of Internal Energy inside himself.

Just a few months ago, that would have been unthinkable.

Still... maybe I overdid it.

Even with his eyes closed, it felt like the clear sky was suddenly darkening.

Kwak Yeon opened his eyes.

And then—

"...?"

Against the vivid blue sky, a girl's face was looking down at him.

Her skin was as pale as porcelain,

her hair black as ink.

And her eyes — a brilliant, blinding blue.

She seemed almost too beautiful to be real.

A celestial maiden?

With those otherworldly blue eyes, she didn’t seem human.

Then—

"...Young-a!"

Kwak Yeon's first thought was of Young-a — the spirit that Daoist Cheongmu often spoke of.

Had he finally gained the ability to see her?

"Young-a?"

At his words, the girl's blue eyes widened.

"My name’s not Young-a.

It’s Jeong."

It was only then that Kwak Yeon realized —

this girl was real.

He scrambled to sit up.

"...Who are you?"

"I just told you — my name is Jeong."

She looked about thirteen or fourteen, dressed in a lively, colorful outfit.

"I wasn’t asking your name.

I meant — how did you get here?"

"Why?

Was I not supposed to?"

Her innocent counter-question threw him off for a moment.

There was no strict prohibition against outsiders here —

only, no one ever came.

"This is a place for Daoist cultivation.

It’s supposed to be quiet."

"Ahh!

So I shouldn’t have been making noise.

Sorry — I didn’t know."

"......"

"I just saw a staircase leading up the mountain and decided to follow it."

Kwak Yeon thought, Maybe she was a temple visitor who wandered up out of curiosity.

But something about it didn’t sit right.

The only path up to the Three Spirits Palace passed directly through the Registration Hall.

And the Registration Hall was the innermost sanctum of Wudang.

Ordinary visitors could never set foot there.

Then he remembered —

earlier ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ today, the Registration Hall had been unusually crowded.

The stewards had urged him along, whispering about an important guest.

Could she be... part of that guest’s entourage?