The Principles Behind the Wolnyeo Sword Art
Dang Nan-a suspected the Goddess Sect was guilty of physically and emotionally abusing its outer disciples the moment she laid eyes on Cheong. Having grown up pampered within the Tang Clan, the sight hit her like a cultural sledgehammer.
The outfit was a single scrap of fabric so thin it might as well have been transparent, held up by two pathetic shoulder straps. One strap had already torn and been clumsily knotted back together, leaving the whole thing hanging at a drunken angle. Yet the misunderstanding cleared up almost immediately.
“Ah, Great-Aunt, you’re wearing that again? Wow, it still looks amazing on you. I’m genuinely jealous.”
“Why? Want to try it on?”
“Maybe when it gets hot. Right now it’s freezing. Couldn’t you dress me in it on a warm day when we’re alone?”
“Keep dreaming. This thing is so comfortable in the heat—why would I give it to you? If you’re not changing into it right now, forget it.”
A passing auntie—no, a first-generation disciple—chimed in.
“Grand-Aunt, I stitched two blankets together and stuffed them nice and thick with cotton. Take it. Even watching you makes me shiver.”
“Whoa. Thank you so much. You’re a true lifesaver.”
“If you’re really thankful, don’t just say it. You know what to do next time you go out into the Jianghu, right?”
“Message received. I’ll repay the favor with proper revenge, so look forward to it.”
Then came the third-generation chicks.
“Grand Grand-Aunt! Flute! Flute! Flute!”
“Did I look like a flute to you? Did you leave your flute with me or something?”
“Hurry, hurry! We’ve been waiting only for you! No new songs this time?”
“Let’s see…”
Cheong casually plagiarized a few immortal classics and played them on the spot. The girls went wild, squealing that it was incredible. Everyone treated Cheong’s scandalous attire as perfectly normal. If they made any fuss at all, it was to call her pretty, never once showing the slightest hint of contempt.
They had grown sick of the sight last year and were already used to it. Besides, constant stimulation eventually raises one’s threshold. What had caused a stir the previous winter barely registered by spring; the girls were far more interested in the flute recital than her clothes.
At this point even Dang Nan-a was confused. Am I the weird one here? They’re not embarrassed watching her walk around in something so see-through and indecent? And Cheong herself doesn’t feel ashamed either?
Yet Cheong simply rubbed her arms against the chill and scampered about without a trace of embarrassment. Whatever. If neither she nor anyone else sees a problem with it, there’s no point in me obsessing over it alone.
Still, every time she looked, her throat went inexplicably dry. So Dang Nan-a kept swallowing hard and watching with great dedication.
She couldn’t follow Cheong around all day, though. The Goddess Sect disciples were putting the doctor who had wandered into their territory to extremely thorough use. It was hard to tell whether he was a guest or a live-in physician. The self-sufficient, hardworking women of the Goddess Sect simply couldn’t stand to see anyone idle—especially not when even the youngest Grand-Aunt of the Sect Leader’s generation spent all day training in nothing but a single thin scrap of cloth.
---
After copying for roughly half a day, Cheong finally got the rhythm of it. She thought there was surprisingly plenty of time. The books of the Central Plains contained far less text than she had expected. On top of that, her stamina, concentration, and basic dexterity were on a completely different level from ordinary civilians who knew no martial arts, so her work speed was monstrous.
At this rate she could take it easy, finish everything over the winter, and head back out into the Jianghu come spring. Cheong let herself relax.
She had spent the entire morning wrestling with ink when a first-generation disciple approached with a worried expression while Cheong was busy massacring the Goddess Sect’s lunch. The meal wasn’t extravagant, but it was clean, deeply flavorful, and—most importantly—unlimited.
“Grand-Aunt, are you ill?”
“Hm? No, I’m perfectly fine.”
“The Supreme Matriarch asked why you didn’t appear for morning training. She wondered if you were sick. Are you just skipping?”
“Huh?”
Only then did Cheong realize her mistake. It hadn’t been training—it was homework!
One question immediately followed. Even copying at a leisurely pace, the workload was enough to last the entire winter until spring. If she had to visit her master both morning and afternoon… wouldn’t there be no time left at all? Then when exactly was she supposed to sleep?
But to Seomun Su-rin, the books she had given Cheong were nothing more than basic knowledge required for learning. The very concept of setting aside separate time to study something so elementary was completely foreign to the cold-blooded woman.
“It is not as if the Central Plains is begging for disciples. What could possibly be so urgent? Take your time and learn it properly before you leave. Will you die if you cannot depart in spring? Tsk. Your head is filled with nothing but thoughts of leaving.”
“No, it’s not like that…”
Since the words weren’t wrong, Cheong had no rebuttal. In the end, if she had to accept it anyway, she might as well do so cheerfully. She reached her conclusion.
“Hehe. I don’t know. I can sleep when I’m dead.”
“Excellent. Yes. I have pondered how my disciple might achieve greatness. It seems you understand martial arts easily yet fail to contemplate them deeply, which delays your progress.”
She only understood things to the extent that someone explained them, but when it came to pioneering her own martial learning based on that knowledge, she made no progress whatsoever. It was an accurate assessment.
Of course, even her quick comprehension relied on the cheat of engraving knowledge directly into her head with the Ink Sword, so deeper study would be even harder.
“Did I not tell you before that your Wolnyeo Sword Art follows the principles of the Nine Heavens Mystic Maiden’s Doctrine of the Mean? It is a supreme sword art that encompasses every mystery from the moment of introduction. It is only natural that you feel lost now.”
Seomun Su-rin began her proper instruction.
“The Doctrine of the Mean means never letting any one aspect dominate. Thus it embraces all four basic mysteries of martial arts. These come from the harmony of heaven and earth, yin and yang: quick, dull, illusory, and heavy.”
A quick sword was a fast sword, and a dull sword was a slow one. Cheong raised her hand.
“Um, then isn’t a sword that is unconditionally fast just better? And since power comes from speed and weight, doesn’t that mean a fast sword is the stronger one…”
“Dull does not refer to slow speed. Dullness means not moving—it is static. Quick means moving. The harmony of these two forms yin and yang, and from there follow the four states: movement within movement, movement within stillness, stillness within movement, and stillness within stillness.”
“Uh…”
Cheong’s eyes spun in circles. Seomun Su-rin gave a small laugh and continued.
For quick and dull, the contrast between the Jeomchang and Wudang sects served as perfect examples. The Jeomchang Sect’s martial arts embodied extreme speed. Their Sairi Sword Art, which pierced the sun in a single ray, was a bolt of light shooting like lightning toward the enemy’s heart.
In contrast, the Wudang Sect’s martial arts calmly held their ground. No matter how ferocious a killing move came swirling toward them, they simply returned it according to the principle of Taiji, standing unshakable as Mount Tai.
“Oh, um. I think I sort of get it…”
Seomun Su-rin smiled gently.
“If you truly understood, you would have already reached the realm. For now, simply engrave it in your mind. Next come the mysteries of illusory and heavy.”
The illusory sword, also called the changing sword, focused on dazzling, gorgeous manipulation of sword energy to confuse the enemy. The heavy sword, on the other hand, pursued an honest, weighty strike that sent the opponent straight to paradise in one blow.
This could be compared to the Huashan and Shaolin sects. Huashan’s martial arts overflowed with vitality. The sword dance that painted fully bloomed plum blossoms was in truth an illusion where every falling petal felt real, the very embodiment of unpredictable change.
Shaolin’s martial arts were honest. Though the monks upheld the precept against killing and their techniques lacked lethal killing intent, they contained the mystery of heavy that sought to subdue the enemy in a single strike.
“The mystery of the Mean that embraces everything must contain all these principles. Therefore you must understand every one of them.”
“Ah…”
Seomun Su-rin continued.
“I say this because my disciple seems to have a talent for picking up martial arts from somewhere. Be sure to take these words to heart.”
By now Seomun Su-rin naturally understood. Just where could one possibly pick up the Yi Jin Jing and the Daejeong Seongong? Of course, the fact that she had also obtained the Wave-Treading Micro-Steps showed her connections were extraordinary, but those two divine arts were far beyond the pale.
“Ah.”
“It is difficult to comprehend the four basic principles through the single sword art of the Wolnyeo Sword Art alone. Because it embodies the Mean, no single mystery stands out, and because none stand out, they are even harder to feel. Therefore, if you learn martial arts that pursue each mystery to its extreme, when those four come together you will understand them all.”
“Uh, so what you’re saying is…”
“Quick. The fastest sword under heaven. Without question, that would be the Jeomchang Sect’s Sairi Sword Art.”
Dull. The most static sword under heaven. That was precisely what the Emperor’s Sword Form of the Namgung Clan—the greatest sword family under heaven—sought.
Illusory. The most ever-changing sword under heaven. That would be the Taiji Hui Sword, the divine technique of infinite yin-yang taiji changes with which humans could overturn heaven and earth.
Of course, some might mention Huashan’s Plum Blossom Sword, but while it was splendid and ever-changing, it was as light as flower petals, so its depth could be considered shallow.
Heavy. The heaviest sword under heaven.
“Hmm. Among sword arts, there is nothing truly suitable for pursuing extreme heaviness. At best, the Peng Clan’s Honwon Byeokryeokdo could be called the heaviest blade art under heaven.”
“Then?”
Seomun Su-rin smiled and continued.
“Even if it is not necessarily a blade art, does my disciple not already hold the mystery of heavy in those hands of hers?”
“Ah! Then Sosu Magong— Ack!!”
Cheong rolled across the floor once more. A moment later she protested with tear-filled eyes.
“It was a joke…”
“Even when my disciple jokes, it does not sound like a joke at all. And no matter how much of a joke it is, one should not casually utter the name of a demonic art.”
“Yes. So… the Yeorae Shinjang…”
Since it imitated the Buddha’s palm, it was indeed a martial art that carried the heaviest image in the world. Cheong’s lips protruded like a duck’s after suffering for her ill-timed joke.
“Then, among them, which should I learn first? There are three of them—it will take a long time.”
“In that case, it would be best to begin with the Taiji Hui Sword, which possesses both the illusory and dull mysteries. The mystery of quick is the most common in martial arts even without the Sairi Sword Art, so it can be left for last.”
“So the order is Taiji Hui Sword, Emperor’s Sword Form, Sairi Sword Art.”
At this point she had clearly given up on hiding anything. Still, Seomun Su-rin had already noticed and essentially declared she would not ask. Cheong could therefore ask lightly.
“Hmm. If it will take time, learning the Emperor’s Sword Form first might be good. Since Mucheon Daeje left something behind at the Sword-Carving Cliff, it seems better to learn the Namgung Clan’s martial art before those of the Nine Great Sects.”
“Then the order would be Emperor’s Sword Form, Taiji Hui Sword, Sairi Sword Art.”
“Yes. If possible. Of course, this is no different from stealing another sect’s martial arts. You may not even be able to learn them, but even if you do, you must absolutely never use them recklessly.”
Had anyone else heard, they would have pointed fingers and said she should know shame. What kind of master advised her disciple to steal other sects’ arts and even provided a list?
Yet Seomun Su-rin had already abandoned ordinary human decency for her disciple’s sake since last year. Looking at the current state of her disciple, however, one might say she had given up human decency and gained nothing in return.
After all, she had cast aside shame to quickly obtain a protective technique that one would naturally realize upon reaching a high enough realm. In the end, it was not such a great loss.