The Mo Sect (1)
“Screeeeeeeech——!!”
What the hell was this?
How was he supposed to turn it off?
Even when I shoved the chisel back into the place where I’d set the clockwork in motion, even when I jammed it in there as if I meant to drive it through, the wooden crow kept screaming at the top of its lungs.
I had tried everything I could think of, but no method of shutting the thing down came to mind.
Never thought there’d be a trap in here!
In movies, didn’t they always have scenes where the hero had to decide whether to cut the red wire or the blue one?
The Mo Sect’s mechanisms in Daemyeong Pungwhajeon were like that too.
Was the trap in the winding mechanism around its neck, or in the device buried deep inside the body?
One of the two had to be a decoy. If you activated the wrong part, a trap would spring out, that much was certain.
The silver lining was that the trap in this wooden crow wasn’t firing darts, spewing fire, or blasting poison mist.
The worst part was that it simply screamed its head off.
No, seriously.
That bird’s howl was shaking the master’s entire study.
The shriek only grew louder, until I could no longer stop myself from jamming my fingers into my ears and stamping around in panic, no matter how desperately I’d tried to deactivate the mechanism at first.
What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?
If Master saw this, she’d kill me.
She had always been absurdly wary of me touching her belongings.
It wasn’t strange for a disciple to glance at a book or scroll the master was reading, and yet whenever that happened, she would always react with more caution than necessary.
You raised me, you taught me, didn’t you?
Then as my master, shouldn’t you be willing to teach me something as simple as what I’m curious about?
But I didn’t dare say any of that. Her stern glare was terrifying enough to shut me up before I even opened my mouth — and besides, even if I had opened it, I couldn’t have spoken anyway. So I’d snuck into her study in the first place, and now I was paying for it.
Minute by minute, the wait was starting to feel like an eternity.
Seriously, this thing had no intention of stopping.
I did the math.
If Master happened to have gone all the way to Mureung County, then she wouldn’t hear the racket. But if she were gathering herbs in the forest or sitting in quiet breathing practice, she’d come racing back here without a doubt.
Her lightness skill was superb. I’d never seen the lightness skill of a peerless expert before, so I couldn’t compare, but the trip from the peak of Zhangjiajie down to this cottage would take her less than the time it took to burn one stick of incense.
But didn’t they say that if a tiger dragged you into its den, you could still survive if you kept your wits about you, and that even a rat’s hole might contain a way out?
In times like this, there’s always a way.
Sun Tzu, the man who recorded The Art of War, had said it himself.
The final trick to break a deadlock when no other method existed.
The thirty-six stratagems—flight is best.
First, get out before Master arrived.
Then find some excuse to talk my way out of it.
In that case, there was no time to hesitate.
I turned at once, ready to bolt before Master got back—
“Disciple.”
Ah.
“You will explain every last part of this to your master.”
I was done for.
***
“Disciple, your master will not ask you much.”
Hung upside down from a tree with my arms and legs bound by Master herself, I could only nod.
The blood rushing to my head made even that simple motion feel like it might bring on seasickness.
“You will answer your master’s questions only by nodding or shaking your head. If I truly wish to hear your opinion, I will place a brush in your mouth, and you will write your answer with it.”
Isn’t that a little much?
I looked at Master with that expression, and she shot me a demon’s glare, her eyes narrowing to slits. I quickly lowered my gaze.
“A wise old monk once said that even the Buddha’s smiling face may be tested only three times. Therefore, I shall allow no more than three unnecessary replies.”
What happens if I go over three?
“If you chatter beyond that and anger your master, you die. If you answer your master back, you die. If you anger your master, you die. If you speak nonsense that fails to match the front and back of itself, you die.”
So you’re just going to kill me no matter what!
“Your master asks: why did you sneak into my study, tamper with my mechanism, cause a disturbance, and stir turmoil in your master’s heart?”
When she finished speaking and still didn’t hand me the brush, it seemed she wasn’t yet interested in my opinion.
“Do you dare disdain your master’s words?”
I shook my head vigorously. Of course not.
No matter how strict or frightening she was, how could I harbor ill will toward the benefactor who had fed me, housed me, cleaned my filthy diapers, gone out begging for milk for me, and taught me everything I knew?
If I’d had even a single shameful thought, it was from much earlier in my childhood, when I’d been dazzled by her beautiful face — a face far too lovely to belong to a woman of fifty — and entertained some embarrassing, foolish feelings.
Of course, that feeling had vanished completely after a few years. Master was like a mother to me, and what kind of beast would lust after his own mother?
A creature who could bring such disgrace upon his ancestors deserved to be stoned to death. Absolutely.
“Then did you scheme to steal your master’s belongings?”
I shook my head.
Even if I stole one of Master’s things, I couldn’t use it. The only thing I could do would be to sell it.
And who around here would buy such a thing?
Take it outside and try to sell it in some distant market? If a mute tried to sell such a rare object, the best outcome would be not getting swindled by some lowlife merchant.
The people of Mureung County? Most of them were members of ethnic minorities like the Tujia, Bai, and Miao, with only a sprinkling of Han refugees who had fled the chaos.
They were the sort of people who only learned decades after the fact that the dynastic name had changed from Yuan to Ming.
What could a backwater like that possibly do with something like this?
“Then why did you recklessly trespass into your master’s study and commit such barbaric nonsense, you foolish disciple.”
Only then did Master place the brush in my mouth.
No, but how am I supposed to write while hanging like this?
When I looked at her with that expression, Master gave a snort and replied.
“You would damage your master’s mechanism with a chisel and hammer, and yet complain that you cannot manage a single brush stroke with your mouth, you insolent disciple. Must your master seize your head and shake it to demonstrate?”
I’ll write. I will.
I hurriedly shook my head and moved the brush.
[I was curious.]
“Curious?”
I saw her eyelids twitch.
When Master’s eyelids twitched like that, it meant she was truly angry.
But what was I supposed to do?
That was the truth.
[Master has never told this disciple your name, your occupation, or the origin of your teachings, have you?]
Master’s eyes stopped twitching.
[You have cared for me since I was an infant. You know everything about your disciple, but I know almost nothing about you, Master. This disciple merely wished to know you a little better.]
After I finished writing that much and Master looked over the paper, the furious expression from before slowly faded. In its place came a grave, hardened face.
Didn’t they say that sincerity moved even the heavens? My sincerity had even quieted the anger of a master as high as the heavens.
What else could this be but defying fate itself? Thank you, heavens, for your mercy.
But this was not entirely good news.
Instead of scolding me, Master simply stood there like a stone statue for a long while, lost in thought.
Master, thinking is fine and all, but could you please untie me first?
I feel like the blood in my head is about to burst.
Even if you are my master, I’m sure you don’t want to clean up the pieces of my exploded brain.
***
Mukjeok spent nearly half an incense stick of time considering her disciple’s writing.
There was not a single false note in what he had said. It was almost impossible to object to.
Mukjeok knew everything about her disciple. His strange temperament — obedient one moment, then suddenly able to spin out fluent words and push back at her the next. His likes and dislikes. What he was good at and what he was not.
And, now that she had only recently realized it, even the special ability the boy possessed.
But had she ever once told him anything about herself?
Using the excuse that she did not want to hand down the legacy of the Mo Sect and her own clan, had she not brushed aside his questions with the authority of a master who says, You do not need to know?
If she had been her usual self, she would have dismissed her disciple’s excuse and punished him without so much as blinking.
But now that she understood his Mind's Eye, she herself could not continue forever hiding everything from Wolyeon.
When I eventually depart this world, nothing will remain for this child.
The winds and waves of the jianghu were like the tides, after all. Even if one left without the slightest attachment, they would one day surge back like a flood and swallow countless lives.
A person might abandon the jianghu, but the jianghu never let go of a person.
Much less that child, who had no family ties or roots to speak of. How could the waves of the jianghu possibly show mercy?
They would rush in like hungry demons and swallow everything whole, only to spit out a corpse left cold and empty.
Then what if she told Wolyeon everything about herself here and now?
How would the disciple react?
Would he be foolish enough to say that he too wanted to roam the jianghu like a hero?
Would he fear a master who carried secrets even deeper than he could imagine?
Or would he, unexpectedly, accept it with calm composure?
“Disciple.”
At Mukjeok’s words, Wolyeon lifted his head.
At the same moment—
Snap.
With a single sweep.
The black blade moved like a flash of darkness, severing every rope binding Wolyeon. He dropped toward the ground, only to twist in midair and land neatly in a proper recovery stance just before impact.
After landing, he brushed the dirt from his hands and examined where he had been tied while Mukjeok stepped closer and spoke.
“Once you learn about your master, you too will no longer be free of the responsibilities and obligations she bears. Even so, do you wish to uncover your master’s secrets and bind yourself to them?”
Wolyeon met his master’s eyes for a brief moment.
Those blue eyes like moonlight against Mukjeok’s black gaze.
Whenever she looked into those eyes, Mukjeok sometimes felt her own heart go strangely numb.
This time was no different.
Wolyeon picked up a twig and began writing on the ground.
[The body is all received from one’s parents, and wisdom and life are all received from one’s master.]
[To bear responsibility and duty is righteousness. And righteousness, too, is wisdom and life for one who walks a meaningful path, is it not proper that a disciple should follow his master and bear it as well?]
Mukjeok’s fingers, which had been drumming lightly atop her sword sheath as she waited for her disciple’s answer, came to a stop.
Her eyes widened at the sentence Wolyeon had written, and she blinked, almost unable to believe that it had truly been written by him.
How is this possible?
I never taught this disciple Buddhist scripture, so how is this brat using Buddhist teaching to argue back at his master?
Unless he had seen it somewhere and picked it up, these words must have come from Wolyeon’s own mind.
The people of Mureung County might be honest and simple, but they would not be well-versed in the ways of Buddhism or Confucian propriety. So Mukjeok naturally placed her faith in the latter possibility.
My disciple had literary talent all along?
Now that she thought about it, his talent was not limited to literature.
Though he had not trained in inner energy, his vessel was immense; if he had ever chosen to cultivate martial arts, he was certainly the sort of child who could have become extraordinary.
He was also excellent at herbal medicine.
Excellent at medicine.
Excellent at lightness skill.
He had perseverance.
He had a good nature.
And he was adorable, too.
As for cooking... expecting too much from a child without a tongue would be cruel.
My disciple had this many talents?
Though most of them had blossomed under her teaching, Mukjeok could only marvel at the abilities she herself had cultivated.
Then she suddenly remembered something she had once heard when she first met Wolyeon.
In a way, wouldn’t that child count as a fortunate chance that rolled right into your hands?
At the time, she had thought those words were just sophistry meant to persuade her.
Baekhyeon. Perhaps you were right.
To imprison a child with such gifts forever in Zhangjiajie and Mureung County would be to go against the teachings of her ancestors — against Practice and Persuasion, and against Esteeming the Worthy.
Mukjeok made up her mind.
Yes. If this child was ever threatened by the claws of the jianghu, then
she would protect him herself.
Before this life, precarious as a candle in the wind, was extinguished, she would pass everything on to her disciple, and then shape him from a small flame into a vast wildfire.
Only once this oil-dried lamp of a life had burned out would she stop, leaving behind the brightest thing she had ever seen, and depart the road to the Yellow Springs without a single regret.
“Disciple. Listen well. Your master will not say this twice.”
Mukjeok drew in a deep breath, then spoke to him.
“This woman, your master’s name is Mukjeok.”
She looked him straight in the face and continued.
“Your master’s ancestor was Mozi, that is, Mukjeok. Your master follows the teachings of the Mo lineage.”
When Wolyeon heard the truth of his master’s identity, his eyes grew wider than she had expected.
***
Mukjeok?
At that name, I had no choice but to hide my surprise as best I could and stare at Master.
The moment I heard her name, a game setting flashed through my mind.
Seven Unstoppable Heroes.
The seven heroes whom nothing could stop.
The greatest rising talents of their generation, who had made a thunderous name for themselves in the jianghu from seventeen years ago until seven years ago.
Now, they were all either sect leaders or clan heads, peerless Transformation Realm experts wielding immense influence over the martial world.
Of the Seven Unstoppable Heroes who appeared in the main story, there were only five in the actual narrative. The remaining two appeared only in the setting data.
Mukjeok was one of those setting-only figures.
One year before the starting point,
she would lose her life at the hands of Heavenly Dao King, one of the six Dao Kings of the Demon Cult.