Do You Know the Dao?
Ugh, I hate this atmosphere so much.
Gazing at the weeping elders of Mount Hua, Soyul muttered to herself.
Not every disciple of Mount Hua had been swept up in that fervor.
Setting the elders aside, the disciples of the First Corps—who had been training on the sparring grounds when it all began—were simply dumbfounded by the elders' completely unexpected display. They couldn't share the elders' feelings at all.
For the elders, these things had been drilled into their ears so often by their own masters that the words might as well have been nailed there. But for the fledglings of the First Corps and below, it was only a story they vaguely knew the outline of. They had never shared that old, burning resentment.
That was simply what it meant for time to pass and generations to change.
The memory of the day the sky turned ashen gray—when the Demon Cult horde stormed Mount Hua, slaughtered its disciples, and plundered its treasures—that memory, that humiliation, had faded to the color of old cloth.
Even after the invasion, most of the sect's martial arts had been restored without much difficulty, thanks to the archive where the original texts were kept separately.
But Baekryu Maehwa Geombeop—the Plum Blossoms of the White Willow, the intermediate sword art said to form the very heart of Mount Hua's martial learning—was lost forever.
With that art, which students were meant to master between the Seven Plum Blossom Sword and the Twenty-Four Forms of the Plum Blossom Sword Technique, gone from the lineage, the growth of Mount Hua's disciples could only slow to a crawl.
One can only imagine how the elders felt, watching it happen.
Though none of it was their fault, as the leaders responsible for guiding the present-day Mount Hua, they had lived every single day on a bed of nails.
And now, without warning, in a way no one could have predicted, the lost sword art had come home. There were no words for what that felt like.
Watching them, Soyul couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.
A sword art plundered by the Heavenly Demon Cult—learned by her, a child of that very cult—and now being returned to Mount Hua while they thanked her for it.
Even for someone like Soyul, who held no particular feelings about such things either way, the thought Um, this feels kind of wrong, doesn't it? was unavoidable.
But what could she do?
It wasn't as if she could say, I'm a Demon Cultist who learned this technique from the Demon Cult, but I'm returning it anyway. Because it's the right thing to do.
After another glance at the First Corps disciples standing around stiff and bewildered, Soyul made her way over to Cho Ja-un.
"Ja-un, is this sword art really that important to Mount Hua?"
Cho Ja-un answered without even looking at her.
"I never heard the details myself, but I suppose so. I did know there was a sword art stolen from us by the Demon Cult long ago. Though I'm only now learning it was called the Plum Blossoms of the White Willow. But that aside..."
"Aside from what?"
"Why did you never tell me you had learned it, Miss Kang? Am I so untrustworthy? I thought all you had learned was the Withered Leaf technique."
Soyul had been wondering why he was answering without so much as a glance in her direction, and only then did she realize he was sulking. She burst out laughing.
"Gwahaha! What's this? Ja-un? Are you pouting? My dear friend Ja-un, who talks like an old man but sulks like a child?"
"Th-that's not it at all! How could you read me so easily..."
"For your information, I have no idea what martial arts you've learned either."
"......"
Watching him clamp his mouth shut, Soyul continued, still smiling.
"Not that I'm curious, of course. And if you'd asked me whether I'd learned anything else of Mount Hua's arts, I would have told you. But you never asked, did you?"
"......"
"Besides, as I understand it, asking about each other's techniques—or volunteering them—is one of those unwritten rules that even close friends don't break. Am I wrong?"
Every word of it was true, point by point.
And of course, Cho Ja-un knew all of those things far better than Soyul did.
Then what was this petty, narrow-chested disappointment? Why was it that standing before this girl alone made him so utterly childish?
"Fine, fine. I'm sorry. From now on, I'll tell you everything even if you don't ask. We're friends, after all!"
Patting his shoulder twice—as if to say, I don't know why you acted so petty all the way to the end—Soyul headed toward the Sect Leader. Cho Ja-un watched her retreating back for a long, long moment.
"Ah, Sect Leader."
"*Hah*... forgive me for such an unseemly display."
"Oh, please. Don't say such things. So—shall I begin writing out the manual for the Plum Blossoms of the White Willow?"
"D-did you just say... a manual?"
Cheonghyeon's eyes were practically bulging out of his head by now, and Soyul seriously debated whether she should press them back in for him.
"Yes. Ah—is something wrong? Is there some rule about outsiders, perhaps?"
"N-no. Not at all. But—you didn't merely learn the forms?"
This time it was Soyul who tilted her head, puzzled by the unexpected reaction.
"Can one truly master an art properly that way?"
"No, that's not—there's no elder of our sect who would have kept a written manual on them. I assumed you had been taught by word and demonstration alone. But to think you could write the manual yourself. Are you telling me you've memorized every single formula?"
"Yes."
Soyul's master, Baek Byeog-yeon, had learned and memorized the Plum Blossoms of the White Willow from the manual itself. Soyul, on the other hand, had learned it by memorizing the formulas exactly as Baek Byeog-yeon recited them.
In truth, memorizing every formula was no easy feat either, and it wasn't strictly necessary—omitting a few would not have hindered her from executing the sword art. The formulas were, after all, essentially an instructional primer meant to help beginners encountering a sword art for the first time.
But right now, that elementary primer was precisely what Mount Hua needed most urgently.
Only with established forms could one study, internalize, and progress onward to higher realms—was that not so?
"Original Sight, True Vision..."
At last, another Daoist title spilled from the Sect Leader's lips.
"I humbly beg this of you."
"Of course. Well, 'beg' is a strong word—you're simply having Mount Hua's own art returned to it."
At Soyul's words, which somehow carried the fragrance of the Dao itself, something shifted in the Sect Leader's gaze.
"No. Even if you claim it was merely a return, that you would retransmit this sword art to Mount Hua and even create a manual for us—this is no small debt of gratitude. Name what you desire. Not as payment. Simply as a token of our thanks."
Isn't that exactly the same thing? Soyul tilted her head—but there was, in fact, a difference.
Had Soyul said, If I write this manual, what will you give me for it?, it would have become a transaction, a matter of pricing the manual's worth outright.
But by asking for nothing and simply saying, Here, it's yours, Mount Hua became the recipient of a favor—one they could then repay.
And which position would Mount Hua prefer? Naturally, the latter over the former.
Of course, Soyul hadn't thought it through to that degree. And the Sect Leader, knowing that full well, could only feel all the more grateful.
"If there is anything you desire, speak freely. Wealth, gold, anything at all—it makes no difference."
"Um... isn't that a rather worldly offer, coming from the Sect Leader?"
Cheonghyeon smiled faintly at that.
"The truth is, our sect has long since become a sect of the world, a fact spread across all of the Central Plains. Without wealth, running a sect at all becomes impossible—perhaps that is simply what we've become. And you, Miss Kang, live in the mortal world yourself. Should we not tailor our gratitude to the standards of the one receiving it?"
"That's fair enough. Ah—sorry! I didn't mean to say your sect being worldly is a *good* thing, exactly."
At Soyul's sheepish grin, the smile on Cheonghyeon's face deepened.
He thought to himself that if only his own desires mattered, this was a talent he would take in as a disciple and raise at his side.
Weren't both her talent and her character exceptional?
But Cheonghyeon knew his greed had to remain nothing more than greed.
He could also feel it: that free-spirited child would never be happy cooped up in a cloistered Daoist sect buried in a mountain valley.
"You may call us a worldly sect freely—so name what you want."
"Hmm... well, first of all, I don't need wealth. Don't need gold either."
"Then what do you need? Ah—the spirit pellets, perhaps? We have three remaining, so if you..."
"No, I don't need spirit pellets either."
Cheonghyeon could understand a martial artist declining material wealth, but he hadn't expected her to refuse the pellets too. His expression grew a bit troubled.
"*Heo*... then what is it that you do need?"
"I'd like to study the Dao—Mount Hua's Dao."
What welcome words could these possibly be?
The very girl he had wished to take as a disciple, offering to enter Mount Hua of her own accord?
Just as a delighted Cheonghyeon opened his mouth, Soyul caught the look on his face and added one line.
"Ah, I won't be formally entering the sect, though."
He felt a flicker of disappointment at that, but decided that surely, with some persuasion, this much could be arranged. He spoke carefully.
"Transmitting our swordsmanship without formal entry into the sect... that is something I must consider. In truth, it is without precedent and impossible—but because you are Miss Kang, I am willing to consider it."
"Oh, no, not the swordsmanship."
"...? What do you mean?"
At Cheonghyeon's puzzled question, Soyul's expression grew even more confused.
"I said I wanted to study the Dao, didn't I? Not swordsmanship? Isn't this a Daoist sect?"
"......"
At those utterly ordinary words, Cheonghyeon was struck as if by a hammer to the skull.
Yes—she had clearly said she wanted to study the Dao.
Then why had he taken that to mean the study of the martial?
To be sure, the Dao was embedded within Mount Hua's martial arts. But when someone said "the Dao," they naturally meant the cultivation of the heart and mind.
And it was Soyul's final words that pierced the Sect Leader's chest most deeply of all.
Isn't this a Daoist sect?
Why did he keep forgetting a truth that even this young guest, visiting Mount Hua for the very first time, knew by heart?
Before we are martial artists, we are first and foremost followers of the Dao.
The martial arts piled upon this mortal body were nothing but a single branch, grown as an offshoot of studying the Way.
Cheonghyeon, Cheonghyeon—did winning the hollow title of Sword Emperor make you believe the martial was everything in this world?
Did pride in being a master of Hwagyeong turn you into a fool who abandoned the Dao for the sake of strength alone?
Are you not ashamed to cry out your own Daoist title with that mouth?
In an instant, dozens of self-reproaches burrowed into Cheonghyeon's heart, and his qi and blood began to seethe.
"Khh... khhagh."
That the Heart Demon should strike so suddenly was surely a measure of just how devastating that offhand remark had been.
"Sect Leader?"
When the Sect Leader, who had gone blank, suddenly began to groan, his condition clearly dire, Soyul called out to him—but nothing could reach Cheonghyeon's ears anymore.
What have I been doing all this time...
I have lived rightly.
I have lived for Mount Hua alone...
To protect the Dao, one must first cultivate the martial. There is no other way.
Think of the Demon Cult's invasion!
As a Daoist, I...
Think of the senior disciples, dying one by one!
"Krrrgh..."
Before anyone knew it, bloodshot veins threaded through Cheonghyeon's eyes, and the vast inner power stored in his dantian began to rampage wildly in every direction.
"S-Sect Leader!"
"Sect Leader!"
Startled by the sudden turn, the elders and Cho Ja-un rushed toward him—but there was nothing any of them could do.
What if their interference only made things worse?
As everyone stood stamping their feet in helpless panic, a slender voice rang out.
"Please step aside."
The elders parted almost without thinking, and Soyul raised her right hand.
Watching inner power so vast it hardly seemed possible for the initial stage of the Jeoljeong realm concentrate into that one hand, that one palm, Cho Ja-un let out a groan.
"Surely not..."
The next moment, Soyul put her whole strength into slapping Cheonghyeon squarely across the face.
*BWAAAM—*
Flesh striking flesh, and yet the sound of a drum tearing split the air across Mount Hua's grounds.
*BOOM — BOOM — BOOM —*
*CRRRASH—*
Struck across the cheek by that colossal inner power with no guard raised whatsoever, Cheonghyeon was sent flying like a skipped stone, rolling five full times before slamming flat against the wall of the training grounds.
*Slrrrp—*
Right there, he lost consciousness and crumpled to the ground in a heap.
"N-no way..."
As the elders could only blink dumbly at the unbelievable scene that had unfolded in the span of a heartbeat, Soyul scratched her head.
"Uh... maybe I hit him a little too hard?"