The Weight of a Mother's Name
The Dan River linked Henan and Hubei Provinces.
The village that took its name from that river was Danjianggu.
“Gangcheon!”
The moment Ja Gangcheon reached the edge of the village, a familiar voice called out to him.
“Cheongu!”
He sprinted the rest of the way and came to a halt in front of his friend.
“Why are you waiting all the way out here? Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong. I just felt bitter and ashamed for leaving you behind, so I’m doing this much at least.”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I know. My being there would only have gotten in the way, right?”
Ja Gangcheon nodded, looking apologetic.
“I’ll take care of my own bruised feelings. Just tell me what happened.”
“Okay. I’m starving, so I’ll tell you everything over a meal.”
They led the carriage into the village.
Danjianggu was a riverside settlement with a navigable waterway as well, and it had grown into a surprisingly prosperous commercial town.
“Wow. The place is bigger than I expected.”
The population was large, and that meant a wide variety of halls and pavilions lined the streets.
“Huh? A martial hall.”
It was not the first martial hall Ja Gangcheon had ever seen, yet something about this one made him especially glad.
“That’s the Wudang emblem.”
A taiji symbol was carved into the hall’s signboard.
It meant the place was run by a lay disciple of the Wudang Sect.
And it was not only the martial hall.
“The merchant house and the escort agency are both run by Wudang lay disciples too.”
The reason so many people of Wudang origin filled Danjianggu was obvious.
“Mount Wudang isn’t far.”
Aside from the village that had grown up right at the mountain’s entrance, this was the nearest settlement of any real size.
“We can reach it in two days.”
That was the estimate if they took the carriage. The moment he heard it, Ja Gangcheon’s heart began to race.
“Should we head straight for Mount Wudang?”
“Your call. Just know there’s a lot here you can only see in Danjianggu.”
“Right now I want to see the Wudang Sect more than anything.”
“Then we go.”
They abandoned any thought of rest and set out for Mount Wudang.
Just as the taiji symbolized Wudang itself, Mount Wudang—where mist settled over towering ancient trees—embodied the grand harmony of nature.
At the foot of the mountain a gatekeeper stepped forward.
“What business brings you here?”
“We’ve come to pay our respects to the elders of the Wudang Sect.”
“Would you by any chance be the young brother who goes by the name Gangcheon?”
“Yes!”
“Please proceed. If you have any weapons, we will hold them for you.”
“I’d like you to look after the carriage. But I have to take this with me. I need to deliver it to my father’s master.”
Ja Gangcheon held out a single sword. The gatekeeper studied him for a moment, then nodded.
“You must not draw the blade from its scabbard under any circumstances.”
“I understand.”
Clutching the cloth-wrapped sword to his chest, Ja Gangcheon left the Sword-Surrendering Ground and began climbing the mountain at a rapid pace.
Cheongu found the ascent taxing, yet he could not bring himself to slow the boy who was racing upward in pure excitement.
Even though the path was steep, they soon stood before the great plaque of the Wudang Sect.
Taiji Wuji — Wudang Immortal Gate.
The weighty calligraphy that symbolized the sect greeted every visitor.
Ja Gangcheon gazed at the plaque for a moment, then stepped through the gates with a heart that pounded in his chest.
“Welcome, Little Brother.”
A welcome face was waiting for them.
“Hello, Daoist Jinmyeong.”
“Your friend has come as well. This way, please.”
After exchanging greetings with Cheongu, Jinmyeong led them into the inner courtyard.
“My master will arrive together with the Sect Leader.”
At the words “Sect Leader,” Cheongu drew a deep breath.
How many people in an entire lifetime ever met the Sect Leader of Wudang face to face?
Whether that meeting would prove fortunate or not remained to be seen, but it would certainly be extraordinary.
They sat at a table prepared in the courtyard, sipping mild tea while they admired the mountain scenery beyond the wall.
By the time the first cup was empty and the second was being poured, a small procession approached.
“We greet the Sect Leader.”
A man of ethereal, immortal bearing stood before them, white hair and a white beard falling in neat cascades.
At a glance he seemed to walk slowly, yet with every step the distance closed at an almost unbelievable rate.
Song Feng, Sect Leader of Wudang.
Having long since surpassed the rank of True Person and earned the title of Mountain Immortal, he had cast aside every epithet of his youth and kept only one: Jianghu’s Number One Sword.
“I am told you rendered us great assistance. On behalf of all Wudang, I thank you once more.”
Like Jinmyeong before him, the Sect Leader knew how to set pride aside and bow his head.
Behind him the others offered their greetings in turn.
Yunhyeon, Yungok, Yunseong.
The three of them stood as martial uncles and seniors to Jinmyeong.
“You said your late father’s name was Ja Unhak?”
“Yes! He told me that if I showed you this, you would believe me!”
“Heh. So he must have met me once.”
Ja Gangcheon carefully drew a folded square of silk from his robes and spread it open. In one corner the characters for Unhak—Cloud Crane—stood out clearly.
Song Feng’s eyes shook as though he had seen a ghost.
“This…”
The Mountain Immortal took the silk and examined it again.
“This is the name plaque I gave Unhak when I bestowed his Daoist title.”
At those words every face around them changed.
“Then the name Ja Unhak…”
When Ja Gangcheon could not answer at once, True Person Yunseong spoke for him.
“To name a son, a man needs a family name.”
“Ah!”
Passing one’s surname to a child was the most natural duty of a father.
“Yes. Before Unhak received his Daoist name, his family name was Ja.”
Song Feng’s voice trembled as he asked the next question. The pure, aching sincerity in it made Ja Gangcheon’s throat tighten as well.
“Is Unhak still alive?”
Everyone held their breath.
“I believe so. I believe he returned to Guigokdo with my mother.”
From that moment Ja Gangcheon told them everything he knew of his parents’ history.
He was only repeating the stories he had heard from them, yet the faces of his listeners shifted with every word.
The Sect Leader, who had brightened at the news that Unhak lived, could not hide a note of regret when he heard of the marriage.
“A Daoist who should pursue purity and freedom from desire… married…”
He muttered the thought under his breath, then forced himself to accept it.
“So Unhak became a secularized disciple.”
After that he listened to Ja Gangcheon’s account with quiet composure, but the senior brothers could not conceal their joy.
“Ah! So that is how it was! He must still be alive—I believe it too!”
True Person Yunseong, who had cherished Unhak most of all, showed his emotion without restraint.
In the end even the Sect Leader’s true feelings spilled out.
“Yes. The fact that he lives is enough. What does it matter if he is a secularized disciple? I resented him so bitterly for leaving his master, and all the while I never even knew he was alive. I scolded him for being heartless. I am the one who must apologize.”
He had accepted the present reality.
There was a reason for his earlier regret. Unhak had been his personal disciple—the one who would have succeeded him.
Believing the boy dead on Guigokdo, Song Feng had been so shattered that he never again accepted another personal disciple.
To learn that this disciple still lived was joy, yet the man had married and even fathered a child; he could no longer be elevated as the future pillar of Wudang.
In effect he now stood in the same position as any lay disciple of the sect.
“And what of your mother’s name? Her family must be waiting desperately for news as well.”
The question was meant to soothe his own lingering regret.
“My mother’s family name is So. The characters are Cheong and Bi.”
The Sect Leader’s eyebrows twitched. The atmosphere grew heavy in an instant.
“So Cheongbi… Do you mean the Demonic Art Mistress, So Cheongbi?”
“Yes. That’s her.”
A heavy thud rang out.
The Sect Leader had stamped his foot without thinking. The stone floor cracked, and Ja Gangcheon’s balance wavered.
“Huh?”
Even so, he caught Cheongu before the other boy could fall.
Then the Sect Leader’s voice, thick with fury, crashed over them.
“I could overlook the secularization—but for the partner to be the Demonic Art Mistress! Is this true?”
The last of his regret had detonated into rage. The force of it made the skin crawl, yet Ja Gangcheon bristled at the atmosphere that denied his mother.
“Is there a problem with my mother?”
“You ask whether the eldest daughter of the Northern Heavenly Castle Lord is a problem? They are the very leaders of the demonic unorthodox path, and even now they cross blades with our Wudang.”
The confrontation between the orthodox and unorthodox factions had reached its breaking point; talk of an imminent Great War already filled the jianghu.
Without the Northern Heavenly Castle uniting the northern unorthodox forces, the martial world would never have grown so tense.
“Sect Leader. This is not the boy’s fault.”
As Song Feng’s words began to race, True Person Yunseong stepped in.
The Sect Leader stopped. The rebuke was not wrong.
“Yes. It is not this child’s fault.”
He mastered the rising storm in his chest, yet the line had already been crossed.
“My mother is not a bad person.”
Ja Gangcheon made no effort to hide his displeasure.
“Father always yielded everything to Mother. But there was one thing he never gave way on until the very end. The moment they reached the mainland, they had to go to Mount Wudang first. That was the one thing he would not yield.”
Ja Gangcheon’s heart ached.
He had never once imagined that his family might go unrecognized.
He had never dreamed that the three characters of his mother’s name could create a problem this large.
“So that’s why Father never taught me Wudang martial arts.”
Everyone stared at him in shock.
In truth, Unhak had never transmitted the sect’s personal techniques because he lacked Wudang’s permission.
“Father already knew I would not be welcomed here.”
Why had Father refused to teach him Wudang arts?
The question Ja Gangcheon had never been able to answer was finally resolved.
And with it came one more realization.
“Father said his dearest wish was to pass this sword on to me.”
Ja Gangcheon unwrapped the cloth from the blade.
“Ah…”
A soft cry of recognition escaped someone.
The Blue Cloud Sword.
It was both Ja Unhak’s epithet and the name of the sword that had been like an extension of his own body.
“I will ask the Sect Leader. May I inherit this sword?”
Song Feng could not bring himself to say the words If you renounce your mother. Instead he stated his will with absolute clarity.
“It is not permitted. I cannot allow the Blue Cloud Sword of Wudang to pass to the grandson of the Northern Heavenly Castle Lord.”
Ja Gangcheon felt as though his chest were being torn open, yet he forced himself to endure it.
This isn’t why I came.
Having decided to swallow his own pain, he set every regret aside and spoke with careful courtesy.
“I will accept all of it. But please save my parents. Father is still a man of Wudang. We need a ship that can reach Guigokdo.”
When the Sect Leader gave no answer, Ja Gangcheon bowed his head.
“I beg you. Please help us.”
For the first time in his life, Ja Gangcheon lowered his head for the sake of his parents.
A solemn voice fell upon the crown of that bowed head.
“It is not permitted.”
At those brief words Ja Gangcheon clenched his fists so tightly they trembled. His lips quivered as he asked one last, clinging question.
“Why? Is it because of Mother after all?”
“Through the Martial Alliance we have already attempted three search expeditions. Not a single vessel that entered Guigokdo ever returned. Counting those of the Sadoryeon as well, that sea has already swallowed five ships.”
“Ah…”
So that was why fragments of wrecked ships had washed onto Guigokdo.
“I understand.”
Ja Gangcheon turned away.
Half his heart felt submerged in water; in the remaining half, lightning seemed to crash without cease.
Dizzy. Heavy.
Without even a word of farewell he turned and left the Wudang Sect.
The same people who had welcomed him so warmly on his arrival did not send him off with so much as a glance.
He had just passed the mountain gate and reached the mid-slope when a voice called after him.
“Gangcheon.”
Someone came running hard. It was True Person Yunseong and Jinmyeong.
“I do not hate you. I am truly sorry it has come to this.”
“Then do you acknowledge me?”
“You are the son of the junior brother I trusted most. Even the bond of uncle and nephew is one Heaven itself forges. How could I deny you?”
“Then do you acknowledge me as a man of Wudang?”
Yunseong fell silent for a moment, then slowly spoke his true heart.
“If you choose Wudang, I will fight with everything I possess to make it so.”
“I would have to abandon Mother, wouldn’t I?”
Yunseong could not bring himself to say yes.
Ja Gangcheon looked him straight in the eye.
“You have two hearts.”
He said it because he felt betrayed.
People with two hearts are called hypocrites.
He swallowed that final sentence.
It would have felt like insulting his father rather than the Wudang Sect.
“Little Brother—no, Gangcheon. Why not stay a little longer before you go?”
Jinmyeong stepped forward. His face was full of quiet sorrow.
He’s a good man.
That was what Ja Gangcheon thought.
“I was told that by generation you are my senior brother.”
“Yes. You may call me that.”
Of everyone at Wudang, Jinmyeong was the person Ja Gangcheon had most wanted to see.
Jinmyeong’s sense of chivalry had set his heart ablaze; he had wanted to become someone who respected everyone the way Jinmyeong did.
But now he had something else to say.
“Senior Brother.”
Ja Gangcheon spoke as though delivering a declaration.
“I don’t think I can love the Wudang Sect anymore.”
To the boy who was walking away, Jinmyeong could find no words at all.