Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Uncheon Zhenren went on with a bitter look on his face.

“If a guest who arrived late were to suddenly take one of the eight seats, the guests who arrived much earlier would surely find it uncomfortable.”

When Uncheon Zhenren voiced his concern that the other sects and clans might grow dissatisfied, Myung Jincheon answered in a firm voice.

“Zhenren, Wudang—the very Mount Tai and Northern Dipper of the martial world—has joined the expedition. And with you here, Zhenren, the Sword of Wudang, I am sure everyone will gladly yield.”

“Heh. In any case, our sect delayed too long and has ended up stirring needless discord. We can discuss that matter after we arrive at the Martial Alliance headquarters.”

Uncheon Zhenren did not give a definite answer and instead left it there, so Myung Jincheon asked, in his capacity as the welcoming envoy,

“Does Zhenren intend to depart for the headquarters tomorrow at once?”

“We hurried a long way to get here, so everyone looks rather the worse for wear. I intend for us to stay here one more day, put ourselves in order, and leave after that.”

“Understood. I will take that into account and make the necessary preparations.”

As Myung Jincheon made a deep bow and moved to withdraw, Uncheon Zhenren called him back.

“Unit Lord Myung.”

Uncheon Zhenren continued, his eyes troubled.

“I have always felt sorry about what happened to your late father and your brother.”

“It is enough for me that Zhenren has not forgotten and still remembers them.”

“How could I forget? Not for a single moment since that day.”

Letting out a low sigh, Uncheon Zhenren went on.

“When I heard that you had made a place for yourself in the Martial Alliance and built a family there, I felt some small measure of the guilt ease.”

“......”

When Hocheon Unit Lord Myung Jincheon lowered his head in silence, Uncheon Zhenren spoke in a resolute voice.

“One reason I joined this campaign as well was to repay the bitterness of those who were sacrificed back then.”

Hocheon Unit Lord Myung Jincheon brought both hands together and bowed.

“You have my gratitude for your kindness, Zhenren.”

Yet the expression of Hocheon Unit Lord Myung Jincheon, who had been so respectful in front of Uncheon Zhenren, turned cold the moment he stepped out through the moon gate.

*****

Hu Gae shot Kwak Yeon a glare and grumbled.

“Brother Kwak, isn’t this too much, treating your sworn elder brother like this over a cup or two of liquor?”

Judging by the table, which was covered with bottles, calling it no more than a cup or two was utterly ridiculous.

“And what’s more, Taoist Hyeonam said it was something to be grateful for, so I shared out liquor as precious as blood.”

Kwak Yeon quietly bowed his head.

“Elder Brother, I’m sorry. I had no idea that was [N O V E L I G H T] the case...”

He could tell that Taoist Hyeonam had allowed the drinking party because he thought it would be a good chance for Hu Gae and his classmates from the Hall of Heroic Martiality to get to know one another.

How often would second-generation disciples of Wudang ever find themselves seated face-to-face with the future leader of the Beggar Clan, the greatest faction under heaven?

“Even if you didn’t know, still. I listened while they introduced themselves, and none of them have even received Taoist names yet. They’re all grown men besides. What’s wrong with letting them drink a little?”

Having found a pretext to complain, Hu Gae grumbled without stopping, as though he meant to vent all the resentment that had piled up in him.

“If a martial artist wants to walk the rivers and lakes, he ought to know how to drink too. Learning now won’t do them any harm.”

Hu Gae was not wrong. But it was as plain as fire that he had made them drink far too much, half by force, so Kwak Yeon opened his mouth again.

“Elder Brother, I understand how hurt you must feel. I truly am sorry.”

“......”

“Even so, Senior Brother Hyeonam only gave leave out of courtesy, because he could not refuse Hu Gae’s goodwill. It would be best to end the drinking here.”

It pained Kwak Yeon to see how ill at ease his Hall of Heroic Martiality classmates were in front of Hu Gae, Seokjangsan included.

Except for Seokjangsan, they were all only just beginning to set foot in the martial world, and they were feeling the oppressive weight of Hu Gae’s presence keenly.

After Kwak Yeon apologized politely and then, with perfect logic, urged that the gathering be broken up, Hu Gae smacked his lips.

“I specially ordered the most expensive Dragon Fang Liquor in this guesthouse because they’re Brother Kwak’s classmates...”

Hu Gae still lingered without taking the hint, and Jin Cheongha, who had been silently watching until now, suddenly spoke.

“Sub-Branch Master, would you care to step outside and get some air with me for a moment?”

“Hm?”

“It’s stifling staying indoors, but I feel a little awkward going out by myself.”

The guesthouse was full of Wudang Taoists, so it was true enough that a woman wandering out alone would feel uncomfortable.

But how could Hu Gae fail to understand that was not her real reason?

“Ugh!”

Hu Gae reluctantly rose from his seat.

“If Sister Jin says she feels stifled, I’ll step out with her for a bit.”

After Hu Gae cast one last lingering glance over the bottles on the table and followed Jin Cheongha out of the hall, sighs of relief burst out from everyone present.

“Hoo!”

Jongsu looked at Kwak Yeon with exaggerated drama.

“Martial Uncle Kwak, I thought I was going to suffocate to death.”

“Jongsu, you haven’t changed at all.”

Kwak Yeon smiled faintly and continued,

“Don’t speak to me so formally. It’s awkward between us.”

“But if someone hears us, it’ll be a disaster...”

“There’s no one here but us.”

When Kwak Yeon said it with a straight face, Seokjangsan spoke.

“Martial Uncle Kwak, just because there are no eyes on us doesn’t mean we can be disrespectful to you.”

“Jangsan, why are you doing it too?”

It hurt Kwak Yeon that his classmates seemed to be keeping their distance.

He was happy to see them as if they had only parted yesterday, yet his classmates were clearly feeling the distance of the years between them.

When Kwak Yeon’s face stiffened, Seokjangsan spoke again, a smile touching the corners of his eyes.

“Still, if Martial Uncle Kwak orders it, we juniors have no choice but to obey.”

Only then did the stiffness leave Kwak Yeon’s face.

“As your martial uncle, I grant permission. When we’re in private, all of you should speak to me plainly.”

Having said that, Kwak Yeon suddenly pulled Jongsu into a fierce embrace.

“Jongsu! It’s good to see you again.”

“Martial Uncle Kwak... I’m glad too.”

Jongsu’s voice trembled as he wrapped his arms tightly around Kwak Yeon.

“Since that day... you’ve no idea how much I missed you.”

Kwak Yeon remembered the thunder of applause his classmates from the Hall of Heroic Martiality had given him the day he left for Samryeong Peak.

—CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP...!

Because that applause had gone on and on without end, he had managed not to collapse and had climbed the stairs of Samryeong Peak all the way to the top.

After Jongsu, Kwak Yeon seized Ho Cheoljung in an embrace.

“Cheoljung, you’ve turned into a lump of iron, just like your name.”

Ho Cheoljung crushed him against his chest as if he meant to mash him flat and said,

“That’s because I’ve been learning the Iron Shell Technique. Master said he took note of my bones and frame during the Mid-Autumn Festival martial tournament and decided it suited me.”

Wudang’s Iron Shell Technique was an external martial art of hardened bone, comparable to Shaolin’s Diamond Technique.

At those words, Kwak Yeon remembered the ball-snatching contest they had fought during that Mid-Autumn Festival tournament.

The disciples of the Hall of Heroic Martiality, who had done nothing but receive condescension, had banded together and mounted a small but great counterattack.

To hide the redness gathering in his eyes, Kwak Yeon hurriedly pulled Jeong Unho into an embrace.

“Unho, I heard training at Okheo Palace is like real combat. How is it that you look perfectly fine?”

“Martial Uncle Kwak, I only look fine on the outside. My body is covered in scars.”

As Jeong Unho groaned about it, Jongsu suddenly cut in.

“Martial Uncle Kwak, that’s only because the wound medicine from Okheo Palace is so good. Unho shared some with me too, and I got a lot of use out of it. He’s probably still got a bottle or two on him, so you should get one from him too.”

“Ah! I didn’t think of that.”

When he saw Jeong Unho fumbling around inside his robe, Kwak Yeon waved a hand.

“Just keep it for now. If I need it later, I’ll ask then.”

Kwak Yeon quickly turned to Pyo Yeongsang.

“Pyo Yeongsang.”

Pyo Yeongsang’s eyes were brimming with tears.

Kwak Yeon hurriedly pulled him into an embrace, and Pyo Yeongsang sniffled.

“Martial Uncle Kwak, I... I was really... really sorry. It felt like I’d stolen your place...”

Among the classmates from the Hall of Heroic Martiality, Pyo Yeongsang had been the last to make it through.

And even that had only happened because Kwak Yeon had poured so much time and effort into helping him.

Pyo Yeongsang had tormented himself with the thought that, because of that, Kwak Yeon himself had failed to pass.

“Pyo Yeongsang, what kind of awful thing is that to say?”

“Huh...?”

“If it had happened the way you say, then there’d be no me standing here now, would there?”

“Ah? ...That’s true.”

At Kwak Yeon’s dry reply, Pyo Yeongsang broke into a broad, tear-soaked smile, and the others from the Hall of Heroic Martiality burst into laughter.

“Heeheehee!”

“Kh-kh-kh!”

“Hahaha!”

Before he knew it, Kwak Yeon was laughing with them.

He felt as if he had gone back to his childhood, to the days when they trained together in the Hall of Heroic Martiality.

Outside the scheduled training hours, after they finished their group practice, his classmates had often broken into sudden laughter just like this.

“Instructor Hyeonmun will definitely stare with his eyes bulging tomorrow and bark, ‘You slugs! What in the world happened to you all overnight this time?’”

At the memory of Jeong Ichu’s comical imitation of Hyeonmun Dojang’s scolding voice, with the corners of his eyes twitching just so, they had never been able to keep from clutching their sides laughing, no matter how exhausted they were.

“......!”

All at once, Kwak Yeon realized Jeong Ichu was not here.

And at the same moment, the pain of having seen him off at Seongil Market in Sain County near Yueyang rose up whole once more.

Even as he sat facing his classmates and traded stories of how they had each been living, that heavy ache did not fade.

When his eyes fell on the empty places left by Hu Gae and Jin Cheongha, that ache only deepened.

Of the eight classmates who had gone up together from the training ground to the Hall of Heroic Martiality, two were not here now.

To Kwak Yeon, Ha Gang—who had confessed he was a spy of the Demonic Cult and run away, no, left—was no different from a dead man, just like Jeong Ichu.

Kwak Yeon found himself afraid that, the next time he met his classmates from the Hall of Heroic Martiality, there might be even more empty places.

He knew this Martial Alliance campaign against the Demonic Eight Divisions would be no easy matter, and that only made the worry heavier.

“...Anyway, the atmosphere on Mount Wudang really has changed a lot. The training ground at the foot of the mountain and the Hall of Heroic Martiality have both become much more active, and I heard Instructor Hyeonmun will be promoted soon and moved up to a senior post in the True Martial Hall.”

After finishing his story, Jongsu tilted his head.

“Martial Uncle Kwak, aren’t you surprised? Instructor Hyeonmun is going to become the man in charge of the True Martial Hall.”

Kwak Yeon immediately changed his expression.

“I am surprised. More than that, I’m glad to hear Instructor Hyeonmun is doing well.”

Because Kwak Yeon regarded Hyeonmun Dojang as his martial arts master, he did not dare address him as senior brother.

At Kwak Yeon’s answer, Jongsu said with a deflated look,

“That reaction’s a little strange. Well, whatever. What I really meant to say is that the beginning of all that was you, Martial Uncle Kwak.”

Kwak Yeon let out a faint laugh.

“Jongsu, you really should fix that habit of exaggerating everything.”

“Hey, I exaggerate about plenty of things, but not when it comes to you!”

Jongsu barked the words, then swept his gaze across Seokjangsan, Ho Cheoljung, Jeong Unho, and Pyo Yeongsang as he continued.

“And it’s not just me. Everyone thinks the same.”

Seeing the steadfast look in his classmates’ eyes, emotion welled in Kwak Yeon’s chest.

He surely had not brought about some tremendous transformation the way Jongsu claimed. Even so, there was no question that he had been one cause that set things in motion.

Kwak Yeon felt a quiet pride in knowing that his efforts had not been entirely in vain.

“Thank you, all of you, for thinking of me that way. It’s more than I deserve, but...”

As the mood in the hall began to sink, Seokjangsan spoke.

“Hey! You all remember the thing we said we’d do someday if we ever got together again, right?”

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