The Half-Jiazi Threshold
“I was no pushover as a master either, but you lot are truly beyond hope.”
Pahwanggun heaved his twentieth sigh.
Trembling.
Standing there with our hands behind our backs and our heads pressed to the ground, I felt like my skull was about to split open. My entire body was drenched in sweat. Passing disciples snickered as they walked by, hands clamped over their mouths.
“You’re the first disciples in history to start brawling on the very first day your group was formed. I’ll give you that much—I dare to acknowledge it.”
“…Shorry…”
My lips had swollen into something resembling overripe pollack roe; I could barely form words. Sweat dripped steadily. After a full shichen with my head planted on the ground, it felt like my scalp was about to peel off. My eye sockets were already black and puffy like overripe nightshade berries, and keeping my head down only made them swell further in real time.
I glared sideways at the other bastard head-butting the dirt beside me.
“Using body techniques like a cheap bastard? You happy winning that way?”
Moyong Ryu, trembling just as hard with his head down, fired right back without missing a beat.
“I’ve lived a long life and never once seen a guy lose a body-technique fight and then try to smash someone’s skull with a rock first. Is there even a scrap of common sense left in that head of yours?”
“Shut your mouths, you low-grade trash. My head’s ringing.”
Jin Muje was right next to me as well, soaked in sweat and trembling as he kept his head pressed down.
Pahwanggun’s eyes rolled back in fury.
“Oh, perfect timing. You want to know who the craziest bastard among you is? It’s you! You, Jin Muje, you little shit!”
He cracked Jin Muje over the head with a rolled-up spring painting.
“I actually believed you were the ‘relatively’ normal one here, but turns out you’re the biggest lunatic of the lot! Are you even a real Taoist?!”
“I apologize.”
“And why the hell did you jump into the fight and thrash both of them?! At least those two are family—you’re not even from the same house!”
Jin Muje furrowed his elegant, brush-painted brows and answered.
“The low-grade trash were making too much noise. Lunch hour is approaching. If physical training runs long and delays meal intake by even a single shichen, it hobbles my growth. And those who hinder my growth… I will kill them!”
Thud.
Pahwanggun dropped the spring painting to the ground and muttered,
“That bastard Gang Buryong… I wondered why he agreed to my request so easily. He just dumped a whole group of living thunderbolts on me!”
“Shorry… no excu… she…”
I mumbled endlessly through my pollack-roe lips.
Physician Haseo, who had been peeling fruit nearby, let out an admiring whistle.
“To think the great Pahwanggun himself is lecturing about character. Master and disciples are perfectly matched—a true clash of dragons and tigers.”
Pahwanggun glared at him.
“And why the hell are you here?”
“When I heard that for the first time in Cheonsubaekryeonsa history a group started beating the living daylights out of each other the moment it was formed, what kind of person would stay away?”
Pahwanggun stared at Haseo for a long moment. The look said he was seriously considering just killing the man on the spot.
“All of you, up.”
At Pahwanggun’s low command, we shot to our feet like lightning.
“Whoa. Your faces are completely wrecked.”
That was Haseo’s assessment.
“Jin Muje’s only a little swollen, but Moyong Bi and Moyong Ryu look spectacular. Bi’s lips especially—pure pollack roe.”
Haseo approached and examined our faces and other injuries. While he treated us, Pahwanggun lined us up and roared,
“I can say without hesitation that I want to call our group the absolute worst in Cheonsubaekryeonsa history. Who in their right mind would look at you and call you fellow disciples?!”
He jabbed a finger at each of us in turn and bellowed.
“One of you is a rabid dog who loses his temper and tries to cave skulls in with rocks!”
I hung my head.
“One of you is a character-deficient bastard who slacks through everything and throws out provocations like ‘I’m amazed your own family hasn’t killed you yet’!”
Moyong Ryu hung his head.
“And one of you is a thug of a Taoist who has ‘I’ll kill you’ permanently glued to his lips and beats his own comrades senseless just because mealtime is running late!”
Jin Muje hung his head.
“Truly lamentable. If you ever end up in a group sparring match, you’d start throwing punches at each other sideways the instant it begins instead of at the opponents.”
…
The mental image formed far too clearly. That was the problem.
“So I thought long and hard. Leaving the promotion exam aside, how exactly am I supposed to fix this mess going forward?”
It was one of Pahwanggun’s grand speeches. After that long-winded rant, whatever came next filled me with dread.
And sure enough, his next words hit like a hammer.
“Special measures. This concerns the quarters you’ll be staying in after you pass this promotion exam.”
“Uh, we haven’t even taken the exam yet…”
Moyong Ryu carefully raised a hand to object.
“Any bastard who fails even the Chunmu Hall promotion exam will have me personally find him a nice grave plot, so don’t worry about failing.”
In this atmosphere, staying silent was the wisest course.
“You already know that normally each of you would receive individual quarters. But not you three.”
“What?”
“You’re going to room together so I can teach you what true cooperation actually looks like.”
Cheonsubaekryeonsa was a martial training facility managed under the full responsibility of the Martial Alliance. Moreover, the entrants—no matter how lowly—were at minimum children of the Nine Sects and One Gang, local powerholders, or members of the Five Great Families. The facilities ranked among the finest in the entire jianghu. Private rooms were the absolute baseline. Announcing that three of us would share quarters was a clear departure from the norm.
“No! Anything but that!”
Moyong Ryu shouted until the veins stood out on his neck. Pahwanggun’s eyebrows twitched.
“No? Do you have a reason that might convince me?”
“A convincing reason? Of course I do!”
Moyong Ryu waved his hands frantically.
“If it were the five great beauties of the Central Plains who supposedly enrolled this year, I’d welcome them with both arms wide open. But sharing a room with these stinking males? I’d rather just di— Aaaaagh!”
Pahwanggun’s kick sent Moyong Ryu tumbling. Then the master pounced and started stomping.
“A disciple’s wish, and this inadequate master can’t even grant something so small?! How have you even survived this long when breathing itself seems to bore you?”
“Aaaaagh! Aaaaaaagh!”
“I’m Pahwanggun. The Pahwanggun. You think the world’s a joke just because I’ve been going easy with the lectures?”
“Someone save—!”
Pahwanggun’s exquisite beating struck only pressure points, delivering extreme pain without damaging Moyong Ryu’s bones or muscles.
“I was wondering why that character-deficient bastard was holding out so long…”
Haseo covered both eyes with his palm.
After thrashing him for a good while, Pahwanggun finally wiped his forehead as if his anger had cooled and spoke cheerfully.
“There. Just now Moyong Ryu whispered that he wholeheartedly agrees with my opinion! This master is truly moved.”
Beside him, a dust-covered lifeform twitched on the ground. Haseo clicked his tongue and began treating the writhing creature.
“Anyone else have a brilliant opinion? I’m open-minded like a child, so if you have complaints, speak freely.”
I clasped my fists in salute.
“This Moyong Bi is deeply impressed by Master Pahwanggun’s profound thinking.”
“Wow, this selective anger-management disorder…”
I ignored Jin Muje’s muttering.
“Moyong Bi’s settled. Jin Muje?”
Jin Muje also clasped his fists.
“As a Taoist of Wudang, how could I possibly refuse communal living if it helps me focus on martial achievement?”
“Wow, this filthy opportunistic thug of a Taoist…”
Jin Muje ignored my muttering right back.
Pahwanggun nodded in satisfaction.
“Good. Finally some consensus. I’ve given you plenty of grief, but I’ve confirmed your potential for myself, so don’t stress too much about the promotion exam coming up shortly. You won’t fail, will you? Hahaha.”
Why deliver warm words of encouragement while clenching a fist and shaking it?
“We will certainly live up to Master’s expectations.”
Including Moyong Ryu, who had been restored to something resembling a human being by Haseo’s treatment, all three of us clasped our fists and bowed our heads.
Just then a proctor approached Pahwanggun.
“This is the content of this exam, to be delivered to each group’s supervising master.”
The atmosphere instantly filled with tension. Only Pahwanggun remained nonchalant.
“Hey, I told you not to tense up like that.”
Noticing the tight expressions on my face, Jin Muje’s, and Moyong Ryu’s, he whistled as he unfolded the note.
“Wonder what this exam is. Swimming upstream like last time? Climbing a mountain peak? Not that my disciples need to worry.”
Pahwanggun opened the paper. His eyes moved across it.
“What.”
His face hardened. He looked at the note again.
“What the hell is this.”
He lifted his head and stared at us—specifically at me.
“Bi!”
“The promotion exam will now begin. All Chunmu Hall promotion candidates, please gather immediately in front of the platform.”
A clear female voice rang across the training grounds.
Pahwanggun spoke urgently.
“That internal energy method I taught you before… you mastered it properly at least, right?! No—wait. That won’t be nearly enough.”
His voice was uncharacteristically frantic.
I answered blankly.
“If you mean the One-Wheel Three-Seals Heart Method, yes, I learned it. But it’s so basic there’s hardly anything to ‘master’…”
“Damn it, this has never happened before!”
“What?”
Anxiety reared its head.
“All examinees, gather without delay.”
The proctor herded us forward like pigs. Pahwanggun opened and closed his mouth as if trying to shout something, only to be stopped by the proctor. That was the last I saw of him.
A huge crowd of prospective Chunmu Hall disciples had already gathered in front of the platform. A strange tension blanketed the assembly. Here, some would rise and some would fall, forever stamped as Chunmu Hall material.
The four seasonal halls of Cheonsubaekryeonsa—Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter—became lifelong markers of a martial artist’s ability within the orthodox path even after graduation. Of course the superior martial arts and various benefits available in the higher halls mattered. But the most important thing was which hall you belonged to when the six years ended and you graduated. For martial artists of the jianghu who lived and died by reputation, it was as good as an identity certificate that powerfully influenced everything from personal pride to connections and one’s entire path in life.
On the platform where Gang Buryong always stood, a woman wrapped in blue silk robes spoke in a clear, ringing voice.
“Welcome, all of you who have come to take the Chunmu Hall promotion exam. Over the past eight weeks you have received personalized instruction from your assigned masters and, I trust, have used that precious time to grow. This is the least we can offer you as disciples of Cheonsubaekryeonsa.”
Internal energy rode her voice. Though quiet and gentle, a strange high note like glass being scraped mixed into the resonance, vibrating our bones and setting every nerve on edge.
“The leadership of Cheonsubaekryeonsa debated the content of this Chunmu Hall promotion exam at length. In the end we reached a single consensus without dissent. A high-level martial artist requires many things, but among them the most fundamental foundation is, after all, internal energy.”
Oh no.
My mind went blank white.
She drew a document from her robes and read it aloud, word by careful word.
“The content of this exam concerns internal energy, the most basic foundation for any superior martial artist. Those who meet or exceed the designated internal energy threshold within the time limit will be promoted to Ha-mu-gwan.”
Internal energy was currently my weakest point—practically nonexistent. It was also the single area I had not prepared for at all. And they were singling it out like this?
The only somewhat useful internal energy method I had learned was the One-Wheel Three-Seals Heart Method. Even that was basic, focused more on physical recovery than on accumulating internal energy.
The woman’s words continued.
“And the passing standard for this exam is half a jiazi of total internal energy—one half of one jiazi. Regardless of how much you currently possess, once you reach a total of half a jiazi you will automatically pass.”
Impossible.
My knowledge of internal energy was meager, which only made me understand the scale all the more clearly. Half a jiazi? Was this woman in her right mind?
As if my feelings meant nothing, she smiled and continued.
“It is a somewhat high standard, but it was set as the minimum qualification required to fully absorb the wholehearted support of the renowned Cheonsubaekryeonsa. We ask for the disciples’ understanding.”
If what I knew was correct, one jiazi represented the internal energy an ordinary martial artist could accumulate through roughly sixty years of training. Even half a jiazi equaled at least thirty years’ worth. It was an absurd unit.
And right now the internal energy I possessed was essentially zero.
“Furthermore, under the strengthened exam standards that began this year—just as with the entrance exam—if a disciple’s total internal energy fails to reach even half of half a jiazi, that disciple will be judged unworthy even of remaining in Chunmu Hall and will be issued an expulsion order. All of you, do your utmost.”
The clear announcement rang across the training grounds. Listening to it, only one thought rose in my mind.
I’m screwed.