Wudang Sacred Scriptures

“Hmph!”
The Escort Captain scoffed and then roared,
“What trickery could a Cave Daoist of Samnyeonggung possibly possess to dare behave so rudely toward our house! You’d best get lost before you—urk!”

The moment Kwak Yeon grabbed his hand, the Escort Captain suddenly couldn’t breathe—he was utterly unable to speak.
Still holding the Escort Captain’s wrist, Kwak Yeon calmly asked again,
“Tell me. Has your house ever suffered loss because of this Palace?”

As his breathing loosened just slightly, the Escort Captain blurted out in haste,
“...No.”
“Then wouldn’t an apology be in order?”

“...I—I apologize.”
“In that case, shouldn’t you now step aside? The Danmok Clan surely isn’t some bandit family that blocks roads without reason.”
With that single line, the Danmok Clan was, in an instant, made out to be mountain thugs.

“Khk! …Very well, we’ll clear the way. But you’ll come to regret it.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
With his face pale and cold, the Escort Captain gave orders to the warriors beneath him.

“All of you, step aside.”
The moment Kwak Yeon released his hand, the Escort Captain collapsed to the ground with a thud.
No strength came to him at all. His body felt as heavy as if it were burdened with a thousand-jun boulder.

Only then did he understand why his subordinate earlier had crawled across the ground.
Soon enough, his inner energy and qi circulation recovered, and it was as if nothing had happened at all.
‘Sorcery? That Cave Daoist must’ve used sorcery.’
He had never heard of a martial art that could render someone helpless just by grabbing their hand.

As soon as Chwi Dugae passed by the Danmok Clan’s guards, he moved right up to Kwak Yeon’s side and asked in a hushed tone,
“Brother Kwak, what you just used—wasn’t that Wudang’s Great Flowing Yang Art? The very essence of Qi-Borrowing Qi-Filling, that technique where you turn the enemy’s incoming qi into your own?”
“…”

“Then that means you’ve been taught the martial arts of the Purple Vault Palace. And not just from anyone, but as a direct disciple of the Sect Leader himself.”
It was known that the Great Flowing Yang Art of Wudang was passed down only to direct disciples of the Sect Leader.
Kwak Yeon couldn’t reveal that what he had used just now was actually the Semah Flowing Yang Art left behind by a Western disciple in the Seon Chamber of Samnyeong Peak.

Even so, the Great Flowing Yang Art itself had been newly devised by the Patriarch Jang Sam-bong based on that very Semah Flowing Yang Art—so he couldn’t exactly say Chwi Dugae was wrong either.
“Ah! So it’s true that the Purple Vault and Three Spirits Palaces are close allies on Mount Wudang, unlike the other six palaces.”
Since Kwak Yeon didn’t answer, Chwi Dugae simply took it as confirmation.
Kwak Yeon once again found himself admiring Chwi Dugae’s deep understanding and insight into martial arts.

‘No wonder they say he’s the Beggars’ Guild’s next Little Chief.’
That talk about him becoming the cleverest man alive when drunk might be an exaggeration, but still.
At any rate, Kwak Yeon let Chwi Dugae believe what he wanted. Thanks to that, the man wouldn’t pry any further into the origins of his martial arts.

Though Kwak Yeon had used the Semah Flowing Yang Art just now, he hadn’t actually taken the inner energy and qi circulation of the Danmok Clan warriors.
He had named it the Semah Flowing Yang Art because he had resolved to never extract another’s inner qi unless they were a demon practitioner.
Thus, what he had done was merely draw out their inner energy to his fingertips temporarily, and then return it.

At the very moment he gave it back, a subtle wave rippled through the air—perhaps the lingering trace left behind as the qi returned.
That slight tremor vanished like water seeping into a dry field.
It had been a strange sensation.

So when the Escort Captain had provoked him, he’d used it again just to confirm.
As expected, the Escort Captain’s inner qi had also left behind a wave of residual energy.
‘That Western disciple must not have known about this part. His notes didn’t contain any mention of it. And the fact that Patriarch Jang Sam-bong himself didn’t refer to it likely means he didn’t know either.’

Now that he thought about it, it made sense.
Semah Flowing Yang Art was a form of Demonic Qi Absorption.
Who in their right mind would willingly return inner energy they’d struggled to extract?

He could feel, through instinct, how the residual wave had spread throughout the body and stimulated the subtle meridians.
At any rate, he decided he should refrain from using it too often.
Temptation grows with familiarity—and once he had extracted someone’s inner qi with the Semah Flowing Yang Art, the desire to keep it rather than return it had begun to stir.

‘Unless I’ve reached a mental state where such temptations can be utterly cast off…’
Kwak Yeon resolved to avoid using the Western disciple’s other demonic arts as well.
Demonic arts always demand a price in return.

Before long, the tower of Aknyang Pavilion came into view.
 
****

For Danmok Cheong, the presiding chair of the Hwayeong Assembly, today was an exceptionally good day.
In recent memory, there had not been a more thriving gathering of the Hwayeong Assembly.
Though it fell short in renown compared to the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering—a meet-up of the promising heirs of the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans—it rivaled them in scale and influence.

Now that he, the Young Clan Lord, had taken the role of chair, the Danmok Clan was holding great expectations. With the foundation of the Hwayeong Assembly’s influence, they hoped to elevate the Danmok Clan to a status on par with the Five Great Clans.
This was why the Danmok Clan had spared no support.
They had poured immense funds into this Hwayeong Assembly at Aknyang Pavilion.

This event would mark the grand finale of a splendidly held Hwayeong Assembly.
‘Only the formalities remain.’
At this final gathering of all Hwayeong Assembly members, he was to be formally appointed the Assembly Leader. Most of the members had joined with his help, so he enjoyed overwhelming support.

Still, mindful of the saying “A good event invites misfortune,” Danmok Cheong had locked down the area around Aknyang Pavilion.
Who would dare cause a disturbance at a gathering of the martial world’s finest young heirs? But there was no harm in caution.
The Pavilion was already filled to the brim with youthful male and female martial artists gathered in clusters, chatting and mingling.

As the chair of the assembly, Danmok Cheong exchanged greetings with each member before walking toward the staircase leading up the tower.
There, he asked Jin Hong, the Third Head Officer and current secretary of the Hwayeong Assembly,
“Officer Jin, who has yet to arrive?”

The flow of arrivals had slowed, and the appointed time had passed by nearly a quarter-hour.
“Young Clan Lord, three people in total. Two of them have already sent word they won’t be attending. The only one yet to arrive is the young hero Hwa Yu-yang of the Sun Sword Sect in Shanxi.”
“Didn’t Young Hero Hwa arrive in Aknyang a few days ago?”

“That’s what I heard as well. People say they’ve seen him in town.”
“Hmm, must’ve gotten tied up with something urgent.”
Danmok Cheong kept his tone generous, but he was not pleased. Hwa Yu-yang hadn’t shown his face once since arriving in Aknyang.

As the chair, he should’ve at least paid a courtesy call.
‘He gained his nickname thanks to me, and now he doesn’t even bother opening his mouth.’
“Officer Jin, we can’t just wait around. Let’s begin the gathering.”

Just as Danmok Cheong turned to hurry things along—
“Ah, Young Clan Lord—someone’s coming.”
Danmok Cheong assumed it must be Hwa Yu-yang at last. After all, the Danmok Clan’s escorts had been blocking the entrance from the general public.

But then...
“What are those?”
Four unfamiliar figures had reached the base of the stairs.

“Officer Jin, what the hell is the escort unit doing?”
“My apologies.”
Chief Officer Jin asked with an embarrassed expression,

“Young Clan Lord, what should we do with them?”
“What do you mean what should we do? Drive them out at once. Ah, since it's a good day, do it quietly—no noise.”
“Understood.”

Danmok Cheong turned away, watching as Chief Officer Jin hurried down the stairs.
From below, there came the sound of voices exchanged briefly—followed by the thud-thud of blows being struck.
“Hey, I told you to clear them out quietly.”

When Danmok Cheong turned back toward the stair entrance, his eyes widened.
The guards who had been posted on the staircase were sprawled all over the place.
Danmok Cheong tensed slightly.

The guards stationed around the pavilion were the clan’s elite. To subdue them in an instant meant the intruders were no ordinary martial artists.
Danmok Cheong clasped his fists respectfully in the direction of the people ascending the stairs.
“May I ask from which direction you venerable guests have come?”

The young martial heirs gathered for the Hwayeong Assembly sensed the unusual atmosphere, and all eyes turned sharply toward the newcomers.
Kwak Yeon spoke.
“I am Kwak Yeon, Lay Daoist of Samnyeonggung of Mount Wudang.”

Chwi Dugae thought to himself that Kwak Yeon truly had a remarkable temperament.
This was already the third time he had politely introduced himself. And each time, despite the scornful looks and mocking tones that followed, he never faltered.
Still, this time was different. Since he had already demonstrated his martial skill below the tower, the reception was more subdued.

“A Lay Daoist of Samnyeonggung—then you’re of Wudang’s secular line?”
“That would be correct. And who might you be?”
“I am Danmok Cheong, Chair of the Hwayeong Assembly and Young Clan Lord of the Danmok Clan.”

Kwak Yeon’s gaze turned cold.
“So, you are the one called Chairman Danmok.”
He remembered clearly—it was Danmok Cheong who had introduced Seo Myeonho to the young heroine Jeong, who had died by Yeong Ho-beom’s sword in Hyeopmungok.

Naturally, Danmok Cheong had no idea. He assumed this Lay Daoist must’ve heard of his reputation and raised his shoulders proudly.
“What business brings a Wudang secular disciple to make such a commotion?”
“They blocked my way, so I simply removed the obstruction.”

“Seems my subordinates failed to recognize that a Wudang disciple had come to join the Hwayeong Assembly. If you’re from Wudang, we’ll of course offer you a seat.”
“There’s no need. I have no interest in the gathering.”
“Then why have you come?”

“Obviously, to ascend the Aknyang Pavilion.”
Danmok Cheong frowned.
“No matter that you’re from Wudang, you’ll find no good comes from disrupting a gathering of young heirs.”

“I’ve no intention of causing disruption.”
“Lay Daoist, if this isn’t disruption, then what would you call it? Leave now. Out of respect for Wudang’s reputation, I won’t hold your followers accountable.”
Kwak Yeon said,

“Seems you don’t understand plain speech. In that case, there’s no helping it.”
“...?”
Kwak Yeon strode directly toward Danmok Cheong and asked,

“Are you still going to stand in my way?”
“Of course. How could I not, when you’re being so unreasonable... Stop! Take another step and I’ll be forced to act!”
But when Kwak Yeon ignored the warning and continued forward, Danmok Cheong threw a punch.

—Whoosh!
—Smack!
His weighted strike was blocked.

Then—
Smack!
With a sound like thunder, a burning pain exploded across his cheek.

Danmok Cheong couldn’t believe it.
“You son of a—”
Smack!

The other cheek lit up just the same.
Danmok Cheong had no idea what had just happened.
Only when he saw the shocked expressions of the other young heirs did he realize it.

That he had just been utterly humiliated—struck across the face—by a Cave Daoist of Mount Wudang.
“You bastard Cave Daoist! I’ll kill—”
Boom!

He never even managed to draw his sword.
Kwak Yeon had lashed out with a kick to his chest, and Danmok Cheong lost consciousness on the spot.
Kwak Yeon turned to face the other young martial heirs.

“Does anyone else wish to block my path?”
Every one of «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» them was well aware of Danmok Cheong’s skill—he was considered top-tier among them.
And yet, the Lay Daoist of Mount Wudang had treated him like a disobedient child. The slaps had come so fast they hadn’t even seen his hands move.

What’s more, that final kick wasn’t some refined technique. It was a basic deunggak—a straightforward push-kick using the full sole of the foot.
Even a beginner new to the martial world knew to avoid getting hit by deunggak. But Danmok Cheong had taken the front kick straight on and been blown three jang back, landing face-first.
Anyone who stepped forward now would only be asking for disgrace.

No one among the heirs dared to move, and so Kwak Yeon walked straight through the pavilion.
Just like parting waves, the young martial heirs stepped aside one by one.