The Return of the Lost Martial Arts
The moment Ouyang Qiangang stepped out of the Munyeong Pavilion, a young eunuch in his twenties blocked his path.
The man bowed respectfully and spoke.
"Young Master Hahu, His Highness the Crown Prince has asked me to relay a message. He wishes to see you."
Ouyang Qiangang had been hoping to bid the Crown Prince a final farewell before leaving the palace anyway, so he followed the eunuch without hesitation.
The study of the Jaseondang.
Warm sunlight filtered in between the bookshelves, wrapping the entire room in a gentle glow. The Crown Prince, who had been standing by the window gazing out at the garden flowers, turned around as Ouyang Qiangang entered.
A bright smile completely different from before lit up his face.
"So you've seen my father?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Can you tell me what was discussed?"
Ouyang Qiangang gave a brief account of the mission the Emperor had entrusted to him. He was confident the Emperor would not fault him for sharing it — the Emperor had kept no secrets himself.
Through the events of recent days, the relationship between the Emperor and the Crown Prince had been reborn as one of genuine father and son. And the factions that might have threatened the Crown Prince's position as heir had been swept away entirely.
The Crown Prince nodded with a contented expression.
"It sounds like a difficult task. But if it's you, I'm certain you'll succeed."
"I will do my utmost to make it so."
"By the way, I hear you went into the Imperial Treasury and came out carrying a rusty sword?"
A mischievous glint flashed in the Crown Prince's eyes.
"Has even that story reached Your Highness's ears?"
"Everyone who matters knows of it by now. Some praise you for your lack of greed, but I hear no small number of them mock you for having a rather foolish streak."
Ouyang Qiangang answered with a wry grin.
"As long as it pleases me, it doesn't matter what others think of the item I'll come to possess."
"Well said."
The Crown Prince's expression turned serious as he continued.
"But hearing that, I couldn't help feeling it was a shame. Considering how you saved me, my father, and Myeonghwa, even ten thousand in gold would be insufficient as a reward."
He paused for a moment, regarding Ouyang Qiangang with warm eyes.
"So I've prepared a gift for you."
The Crown Prince drew a small, exquisitely crafted jade box, no larger than a palm, from within his sleeve and offered it to Ouyang Qiangang.
"My father scoured the whole world to find this rare treasure, hoping it would help cure my illness. Thanks to you, I'm fully healed now — I no longer have any need for it. I would be honored if you accepted it."
Sincerity saturated the Crown Prince's voice. It was the deep gratitude of a man toward the benefactor who had freed him from an illness that had tormented him for thirty years.
"Your Highness…"
Ouyang Qiangang tried to decline, but the Crown Prince waved his hands.
"If you refuse, my heart will not be at ease. Please, accept it."
It was not a situation in which refusal was possible.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
Ouyang Qiangang bowed deeply and accepted the jade box. From the moment it touched his hand, a subtle warmth emanated from within.
Curiosity drew him to lift the lid — and astonishment flooded his face.
Inside the box sat a Bodhisattva statue intricately carved from myriad-year warm jade.
'This is… it can't be!'
Doctor! This is…
Even Akasha, uncharacteristically, had a sharp edge of shock in her voice.
The same warmth began to resonate from within Ouyang Qiangang's own chest. It was the other myriad-year warm jade Bodhisattva statue he had carried with him since his days at the Ouyang Clan Manor — and it was responding to the new one.
The Crown Prince observed his stunned expression.
"Judging by your face, it seems this is even more precious than I realized."
"Yes… it truly is."
Ouyang Qiangang's voice trembled. It could not help but do so.
Doctor, these two statues appear to be a matched pair. There is a strong possibility that this contains the latter half of the holographic pupil.
Akasha's excited voice pressed on.
It was the first-half mental cultivation method hidden within the statue that allowed us to lay the skeleton of the Transcendent Formless Divine Art. If you acquire the second half as well…
Ouyang Qiangang felt his heart pound. The Transcendent Formless Divine Art was already immensely powerful, but he knew it was incomplete.
"You seem truly delighted."
The Crown Prince continued, looking satisfied.
"I appear to have made the right choice. When my father bestowed this, he said, 'If I have no further need of it, give it to him.'"
"His Majesty said that…?"
"He did. It seems my father was also bothered by the fact that you came out of the Treasury carrying only a rusty sword."
Ouyang Qiangang looked down at the jade box once more. The Bodhisattva's serene smile felt almost alive.
Doctor, even if not immediately, combining these two statues should yield the complete divine art. It will also be of decisive help in treating your Nine Yin Severed Meridians.
'What an astonishing coincidence… No, perhaps it isn't a coincidence at all.'
Ouyang Qiangang looked at the Crown Prince with profound gratitude.
"Your Highness, thank you."
"There's nothing to thank me for. Compared to what you have done for me, this is nothing."
The Crown Prince waved his hand.
"Thanks to you, I have been given a new life. You granted a future to a man who had done nothing but wait for the day he would die."
His tone turned to concern as he went on.
"But I hear the Murim is a dangerous place. And the Dark Liu faction are utterly ruthless men. Be careful."
"Thank you for your concern. But I have a companion I can trust."
Ouyang Qiangang replied with a smile — though the Crown Prince, of course, had no way of knowing who that companion was.
"Then I'm relieved. Still, be careful. They say the Murim hides masters beyond imagination."
"I will bear it in mind."
Ouyang Qiangang's steps felt noticeably lighter as he left the Jaseondang. Warmth still flowed from the jade box tucked within his sleeve.
Feeling the first-half statue at his chest resonating with the second-half statue in his hand, he set off toward the Yeomga Manor.
Time flew by in a blur. The days were so busy he scarcely had a moment to examine the Bodhisattva statue in detail.
The Yeomga Manor bustled like a military camp preparing for war. From the very first day the Emperor's proposal was accepted, meetings centered on Sangguan Wan'er and Yeom Pung had continued without pause.
Detailed plans were debated for defending the coastal salt fields of Shandong Province — the heart of the salt enterprise — and the transport routes that connected them.
"We must station reconnaissance squads around the salt fields at all times, and assign a minimum of five escorting warriors to every transport convoy."
Sangguan Wan'er spread a map across the table as she explained.
"There's no telling when Gold Pagoda Mountain Manor might move, so we should also establish emergency escape routes and communication networks in advance."
Yeom Pung added his own words with a worried expression.
"Wan'er speaks true. We cannot know what tricks the enemy may employ, so we must be prepared for every eventuality."
Just as the meeting was reaching its height, the sound of horse hooves rang out noisily outside the main gate.
"Milady! Warriors have arrived from the Du Clan Manor!"
Not long after the servant's report, three hundred warriors lined up in the front courtyard of the Yeomga Manor.
Their ages ranged from their mid-teens to their mid-thirties, but the same indefinable something gleamed in every pair of eyes. They were the descendants of the enfeoffed vassal families who had once stood together under the Ouyang Clan's name — and had since been forgotten.
Perhaps that was why their eyes held a mingling of the bitterness of years past and the hope of what was yet to come.
Yeom Pung had the servants guide the three hundred warriors to their quarters so they could rest.
Ouyang Qiangang still wore the Hahu Gang mask of human skin, and this was hardly the moment to reveal his identity to the warriors from the Du Clan Manor.
Zhu Biao, entering the main hall, bowed to Ouyang Qiangang and spoke.
"Zhu Biao greets the Eldest Young Master."
Ouyang Qiangang took Zhu Biao's hands and raised him up.
"You've had a long journey. Please, rise."
Having straightened his back, Zhu Biao wore an expression thick with fresh memories.
"Eldest Young Master… I confess I never expected you to summon us this soon."
A profound current of emotion ran through his voice as he continued.
"The men Old Servant brought here are half of our total number. The rest are training at the Du Clan Manor even now, and with Clan Master Du continuing to accept warriors, our numbers only keep growing."
"That is a comfort to hear."
As Ouyang Qiangang recalled the warriors who had arrived with Zhu Biao, a warm ache stirred deep in his chest.
'The number of people I'm responsible for keeps growing. It feels like sinking deeper into the mire with every step.'
I would advise against saying such things aloud, Doctor. You will be cursed behind your back.
'I know, I know!'
Ouyang Qiangang turned to Zhu Biao.
"You said these warriors are descendants of the enfeoffed vassal families. Are their family-inherited martial arts still preserved?"
A deep shadow fell across Zhu Biao's face at the question.
"A few men still remember the forms of the techniques, but during the Righteous Demon Great Purge, the mental cultivation methods and the essential core of every art were utterly lost. That is why they now train primarily in the Four Great Martial Arts of the clan that you, Young Master, transmitted to the Du Clan Manor."
Decades of regret were weighted into his voice.
Ouyang Qiangang's eyes gleamed.
"If the forms survive, restoration should be possible. Have the Old Servant tell them to write down everything they remember of the family martial arts — every last word, nothing omitted — and compile it into secret manuals."
Zhu Biao's eyes went wide with disbelief.
"But — Eldest Young Master — how can the essence of martial arts that have been lost possibly be restored?"
Ouyang Qiangang answered with a faint smile, and in his voice was a conviction stronger than anything else in the world.
"Because I am Ouyang Qiangang."
That evening, Zhu Biao came to find Ouyang Qiangang again, his face a tangle of embarrassment and hope. In his hands were three freshly made booklets.
Sasang Wind-Thunder Fist, Falling Blossoms Returning-Sun Sword, and Ghost Wind Chaotic Spear.
Once, these arts had been hailed as first-rate martial techniques of the martial world — but now, the name alone shamed them. The mental cultivation formulas contradicted one another, the sequences of forms were broken mid-flow, and two men had even drawn entirely different figures to represent the very same technique.
Ouyang Qiangang clicked his tongue inwardly, though outwardly he maintained a placid smile.
"Eldest Young Master, I am ashamed to show you this. This is… all they remember. Can you truly… truly restore them from this?"
To Zhu Biao's trembling voice, Ouyang Qiangang nodded with an air of utter confidence.
"Do not worry. By tomorrow morning, the vassal families will have reclaimed martial arts greater than they ever possessed in the past."
That night, Ouyang Qiangang sat alone in the training chamber and spread out the three manuals.
Within his mental landscape, the tangled fragments of broken forms drifted like shattered ghosts.
'This is not mere restoration. It is re-creation.'
Operating the Dual Cultivation Divine Art, he split his consciousness in two.
One consciousness, together with Akasha, cross-referenced the hundreds of martial arts datasets obtained from the Imperial Treasury, hunting down the lost links. The other, drawing upon the principles of movement gained from the Nine Dragons ten-thousand-step manual, reconstructed the broken roots of the shattered forms.
As the night deepened, a wondrous spectacle unfolded within his mental world. The scattered fragments of technique found their places one by one, assembling themselves into flawless shapes.
The next morning, Zhu Biao — who had lain awake all night in an agony of suspense — entered the main hall at Ouyang Qiangang's summons.
On the desk before Ouyang Qiangang lay three new manuals, the ink-scent still not yet dry.
Zhu Biao picked them up with trembling hands. The moment he turned the first page, his pupils quivered like waves caught in a typhoon. When he closed the last page, he bowed his head low.
"Thank you, Eldest Young Master."
Zhu Biao realized it anew.
'The Eldest Young Master is not a man who will merely raise a fallen clan back to its feet. He is a giant who will one day rewrite the very martial learning of this age — a Martial Saint the likes of which the world has never seen…'
The following day, Zhu Biao departed the Yeomga Manor with his three hundred warriors.
With an escort provided by Yeom Pung, the road to Shandong Province would be safe enough.