The Road to Mount Wudang
Jinmyeong finished speaking with a beggar outside an inn, then stopped before a large manor at the edge of the marketplace.
The burly guards at the gate seemed to have expected him; they opened the doors without resistance.
"Why did you ask a beggar?"
"A moneylender's house—plenty of coin, but too stingy to hand out a scrap. A beggar would know that for certain."
As Ja Gangcheon absorbed yet another lesson, Jinmyeong stepped inside the manor.
When he could no longer see him, Ja Gangcheon scanned their surroundings.
"Let's watch from over there."
Before Cheongu could answer, Ja Gangcheon seized him around the waist and leaped. In a single bound they landed on the roof of a three-story inn nearby, the manor grounds laid out clearly below.
"He's offering something?"
They saw Jinmyeong firmly refuse a pouch held out by an old man in silk. When Jinmyeong spoke further, the old man faltered and stepped back several paces.
"Threats? A warning? Looks like he's giving him one of those."
When no answer came, Ja Gangcheon glanced sideways.
"A-are you all right?"
Cheongu's face had gone paper-white; he leaned against the roof tiles, breathing hard. The sudden light-body technique had left him dizzy.
"I owe you so much that half this body is yours. Still—could you maybe handle it a little more gently?"
"Ah. Sorry…"
"I'm fine now. Looks like it's already over, though?"
The old man bowed, trembling, and Jinmyeong turned without a second glance and left the manor.
"Let's go say hello."
"If you were going to do that, why bother following him in secret?"
"I meant to watch without him noticing. He just caught us."
"That's not something you say with a smile, my friend."
Their quarry was none other than the White Clothes Sword, Jinmyeong. Yet Ja Gangcheon leaped from the roof without the slightest hesitation.
"Hello!"
Jinmyeong showed no surprise. He simply stopped walking, making space for Ja Gangcheon to land.
"Greetings, young brother."
Jinmyeong had noted that the boy's light-body skill was no ordinary thing, but he gave no sign of it and returned the greeting with courtesy.
"You looked so cool I had to follow you."
The expression and the words were so candid they caught Jinmyeong completely off guard.
"Haha. You flatter me. But your friend seems short on light-body skill—shouldn't you bring him down as well?"
Smiling, Jinmyeong pointed to Cheongu, who was floundering at the edge of the roof.
"Ah! Just a moment!"
Ja Gangcheon used his light-body technique once more and brought Cheongu down. This time Cheongu had drawn a deep breath beforehand, and he landed without dizziness.
"Whew. Hello. I'm Cheongu. Just so you know up front—we didn't follow you with any ill intent."
"A pleasure. I am Jinmyeong."
Once the two had exchanged greetings, Ja Gangcheon quickly said what he had come to say.
"Want to eat together?"
"I'm afraid I must decline. There is an elder I am duty-bound to attend. He will be waiting even now."
The refusal was so polite that Ja Gangcheon could not press him. By way of farewell, he gave his name.
"My name is Ja Gangcheon. We're on our way to Mount Wudang, so we might meet again."
"What takes you to Mount Wudang?"
"My father is of the Wudang Sect."
At that, Jinmyeong's face brightened—so openly that his genuine pleasure was plain to see.
The son of a lay disciple, then.
That was what Jinmyeong concluded.
The Wudang Sect did not forbid marriage outright, but a life of abstinence was the foundation of its practice. Marriage was naturally among the things set aside. At the mention of a son, his thoughts went at once to a lay disciple.
"I too am bound for Mount Wudang once my business here is done. I will go on ahead and wait for you."
"All right. Then we'll see you at Mount Wudang."
Jinmyeong bowed courteously to the two boys and took his leave.
"Are all Wudang Daoists like that?"
"I've never met a Wudang Daoist in person either. Still—don't trust people too easily. Who knows what they keep inside."
"Father told me a great deal about the Wudang Sect. He said it's the symbol of the orthodox path—upholding chivalry and righteousness."
"That doesn't mean it's all good."
"What do you mean?"
"Imagine a hundred of your father all in one place."
Ja Gangcheon looked up at the sky and pictured a Wudang filled with a hundred of his father.
"Ugh! Suffocating!"
One father, after all, was quite enough.
Merchant caravans and escort agencies traveling the official roads. For them, the hardest problem was always the same: sleeping rough.
When villages lay far apart there was no help for it, but cost was a large part of the truth. Using an inn every night was something no one could afford.
So experience with safe camping was a valuable asset indeed.
The most basic rule was to increase numbers and form a group. Travelers bedding down in roughly the same place was a common sight along the official roads.
Ja Gangcheon, driving the cart, was not about to miss such a chance. That day, too, he struck up a conversation with a family on the move.
Everything was still new to him, and he loved talking with people.
"Ah! So you're going for something good!"
"Haha. That's right. Time to give up the wandering peddler's life. Running myself ragged to feed my wife and children—I barely know my own face anymore."
The middle-aged man had been a peddler who traveled the whole realm; his efforts had been recognized, and he was to work for a trading house in Hubei. So the family had loaded their belongings onto a cart and set out together.
Once the talk began, the peddler spun stories of everything he had seen across the land.
"Wow! So what happened after that?"
Ja Gangcheon listened with such absorption that the speaker could not help but grow animated. They traded life stories for so long that night fell before they knew it.
Having carefully settled his children and wife for sleep, the man smiled.
"I've talked with strangers hundreds of times while wandering the realm, but never with anyone like you. If our ages matched, I'd want to drink all night—that's the only regret."
"There'll be another chance."
"Aye. The Central Plains may be vast, but if you keep roaming, you're bound to cross paths again."
It was time for the others to sleep as well, so they ended the conversation.
Once he was sure most of the camp had drifted off, Ja Gangcheon caught Cheongu's eye. He meant to oversee his inner-energy practice before bed.
As always, Cheongu went deep into the woods, sat cross-legged, and settled into place. When he took a qi stone in hand and began circulating his energy, Ja Gangcheon held his breath and kept watch on their surroundings.
Hmm?
A faint presence stirred in the distant trees.
A person?
It was so slight he could not be sure.
They're deliberately erasing their presence.
It was the same method his parents always used when they played tag on the island. Tag had once been a game of eyes and ears; after he learned inner energy, it became a hunt for presence.
When he smothered his own presence, even his parents had trouble finding him. A skill learned for play grew several times faster than one learned from necessity.
I'll check later.
Ja Gangcheon chose not to poke at it first, and waited for Cheongu's practice to finish.
The presence remained where it was until then. Even after he had guided Cheongu back to the road, it still did not move.
In the dead of night, when everyone else slept, Ja Gangcheon opened his eyes and went into the forest once more.
Bandits?
He had heard that bandits appeared even on the great official roads, though he had not met any yet.
He erased his own presence and drew near to identify them—and soon heard voices.
"You've come?"
He flinched for an instant, but the question was not aimed at him.
The reason the presence had never moved was that it had been waiting for someone else.
Ja Gangcheon crouched low and focused on the sound.
A voice that sounded middle-aged, around forty, spoke first in greeting; an old man's voice, rough as scrap iron, followed.
"Have they arrived?"
"Not in sight yet."
"Odds they take another road?"
"This is the fastest route to Mount Wudang. If they mean to travel with company, there's no reason to leave the official road."
At the words Mount Wudang, Ja Gangcheon's expression hardened.
"Are you truly set on doing this?"
"What? Are you worried?"
"The other side is the Wudang Sect. Even if the job succeeds, the aftermath will not be light."
At the middle-aged man's warning, the old man gave a throat-scraping chuckle.
"Heh-heh. And is there anything left that could get worse from here?"
The mockery left his tone, and a cold killing intent took its place.
"They took what was mine. The price must be paid. Even if it were the King of Hell himself—I will take it back."
Under the old man's blood-chilling vow, the middle-aged man could find nothing to say.
"Master. We must rest a moment."
Hearing his disciple's voice, the middle-aged Daoist looked back.
A boy was barely keeping up, supported on either side. Even with the Daoist's disciple holding his arm, he looked ready to collapse at any second.
"Jinmyeong. Seat him over here."
Jinmyeong eased the mid-teen boy down by the roadside.
"There. Draw a deep breath, and let it out slowly."
Under the hand stroking his back, the boy's breathing steadied.
"Haa. I'm all right now."
"Good."
"When will we reach Mount Wudang?"
"In a hurry, are you?"
"Yes. I'm uneasy."
At that, the Daoist smiled kindly.
"Do not worry. Having given my word, I will keep it. You will reach Mount Wudang safely, and you will be treated and purged of the poison. Until you are free of Heuksu Nogoe, you may remain at Mount Wudang as long as you wish."
The Daoist's words were so calm they sounded like things that would simply come to pass.
The boy looked at him once more.
Unseong Jinin of the Wudang Sect—the Gentle Mountain Hermit.
Beneath a Daoist cap that neatly ordered hair half black and half white, the crow's-feet and round eyes gave him a playful cast.
For all the warmth of his title and face, he was the hardest of the hard-liners within Wudang—and its man of action.
"Thank you."
"It is repayment for your courage. There is no need for thanks. You have earned it."
Hearing himself acknowledged, the boy felt some of the weariness leave him.
"I can go on now."
"Heh-heh. I will find a better way—there is no need to rush."
Having soothed the boy's impatience, Unseong Jinin spoke to Jinmyeong at his side.
"Myeong. At the next village we must find a carrying frame."
Their progress was slower than expected, and the boy was suffering; there was little choice. The boy could not manage horseback either, so shouldering him on a frame was the fastest method—one martial artists often used when traveling with ordinary folk.
"Until then, I will carry him myself."
Without hesitation, Jinmyeong took the boy onto his back.
"Truly—thank you."
"It is no great burden for me. Please think nothing of it."
Even with the boy, Jinmyeong did not forget formal address. He followed his master and increased their pace.
The boy, who had been chattering away, fell silent the moment Jinmyeong opened his light-body technique—the wind striking his face made it impossible to keep his eyes open.
Their speed climbed steadily, and the arms locked around Jinmyeong's neck tightened harder and harder—when suddenly:
"Halt!"
His master ahead shouted in urgent warning. Before the sound had even died, a monstrous force of internal energy crashed down on Jinmyeong.
"Kh!"
Jinmyeong hurled the boy from his back into the air and twisted his own body aside.
Boom!
What slammed into the ground where he had stood was a massive axe.
The Bloodspirit Axe!
An axe with a blade that shimmered blue-green and a crimson haft—there was only one of its kind in the martial world.
There was no time to marvel. Jinmyeong had to catch the boy again as he rose and fell through the air.
His master was already locked in combat with another. Jinmyeong sprinted toward the falling boy.
"You fool!"
The master of the Bloodspirit Axe—Heuksu Nogoe, the Black-Handed Old Demon, hands steeped in poison—struck for Jinmyeong's back as he reached for the child.
Himself or the boy. One of them would have to die.
Jinmyeong could not bring himself to abandon the boy. He drew up every scrap of his inner energy, bracing to endure behind a protective aura—when
Whoosh—!
A fierce gale slammed in from nowhere and took the Black-Handed Old Demon's crushing force in his stead.
KRA-KOOM!
With a thunderous report, everyone on the spot was flung in different directions.
"Ugh! That hurts!"
Clutching a numb shoulder, Ja Gangcheon scowled.