The Loach of the Stream

Yeop Pung dreamed a very strange dream. In it, he stood within the Cheonun Sect of several decades past, and there he saw his masters and his martial brothers as they had been in their youth.

Stranger still, a mysterious voice had drawn him, compelling him to race toward the back mountain of the Cheonun Sect. And in the hollow of an ancient tree deep in those mountains, he planted Spirit Origin Grass.

Then Yeop Pung woke. At first he took it for an ordinary dream. But two peculiarities soon presented themselves.

First: a person typically forgets most of a dream within minutes of waking, left with only a haze of memory. Yeop Pung, however, remembered every last detail with perfect clarity. The dream had been so vivid that even the flowers and grasses that had brushed past him as he ran were etched in his mind — as clearly as if he had sprinted that mountain path in the waking world.

The second was harder to account for. Yeop Pung sat up and examined the soles of both feet, and found distinct traces of dirt still clinging to them.

In the dream he had run to the back mountain without shoes — without even socks. His body was not so fragile as to take injury from scraping against stones, but as he ran along the path, dust and earth had caked thickly on his soles. And that dirt from the dream was, in truth, still on his feet in the real world.

How is this possible? Don't tell me I've contracted that famous sleepwalking affliction and been wandering around in the night?

Yeop Pung stared at the dirt-stained soles of his feet, dazed, for several seconds. Then he shook his head with a wry smile and wiped the strange dream from his mind.

"I must be wearing myself too thin these days."

Yeop Pung lifted his gaze to the night sky beyond the window. The moonlight was bright and clean. The round moon had shifted only a little from where it had hung when he first lay down.

"I haven't even managed two hours of proper sleep a night lately. No wonder I'd have a dream like that."

Yeop Pung gave a self-deprecating laugh. He forced himself to ignore the exhaustion flooding his body and his bloodshot eyes, straightened his posture, and resumed his cultivation at once.

He drew a single herb root from a small pouch at his side. It glowed with a faint, mysterious green light. He looked at it with desperate hope.

"The last of the Spirit Origin Grass. Whether I can break through to the Profound Realm or not — it all depends on you!"

Yeop Pung swallowed the Spirit Origin Grass in a single gulp, then closed his eyes and began circulating his energy. The lustrous herb melted the instant it entered his mouth, transforming in a heartbeat into pure Profound Qi. That qi flowed into Yeop Pung's dantian.

Profound Qi was the fundamental energy by which martial artists of the Great Jin Empire cultivated their arts and attained transcendent realms. A martial artist tempered the body and refined the flesh to reach the Profound Realm, opened the meridians, and formed a spirit sea. Beyond that, they transformed the ten thousand laws to achieve supreme divine ability — the highest peak every martial artist dreamed of attaining.

And in this moment, Yeop Pung was attempting to take that critical step from the Body Realm into the Profound Realm, drawing on the Profound Qi contained within the Spirit Origin Grass.

A vast, tidal surge of Profound Qi already filled Yeop Pung's dantian. If a master of the martial path were to observe it, they would be astonished by the sheer quantity of qi stored within. His dantian was like an ocean of Profound Qi, far exceeding what any Body Realm martial artist ought ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to possess. An ordinary person would have had their dantian rupture dozens of times over from such an immense volume of energy. Yet Yeop Pung's dantian, like an iron fortress, held that tremendous qi locked inside, allowing not a drop to leak out.

The Profound Qi that ordinary martial artists cultivated was a milky white. But astonishingly, the qi in Yeop Pung's dantian shone with a brilliant gold.

And yet the surface of Yeop Pung's body remained utterly still, perfectly calm.

"Burst through!"

Yeop Pung cried out in a low voice. He strained with everything he had to draw that enormous quantity of golden Profound Qi from his dantian and send it flooding into his meridians. The qi within surged like a colossal wave, hammering furiously against the thin wall that stood between the dantian's barrier and the meridians throughout his body. But that final barrier of the dantian would not yield.

About an hour passed. Even the last traces of Profound Qi from the Spirit Origin Grass were exhausted. The violently churning dantian, regrettably, fell still once more.

"So it really isn't happening..."

Yeop Pung slowly opened his eyes. A bitter smile spread across his lips.

"I clearly have more than enough power to break through to the Profound Realm, but I've run out of Spirit Origin Grass... My dantian, just what are you supposed to be? I've been feeding you for eight years, and you're telling me you're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still hungry?"

Yeop Pung's bitter laugh finally turned into a self-mocking sigh.

Eight years of grueling cultivation. Hundreds of roots of Spirit Origin Grass. A volume of Profound Qi that far surpassed the limits of an ordinary Body Realm martial artist. None of it had mattered. None of it had helped Yeop Pung cross the threshold of the Profound Realm.

No one knew how Yeop Pung had endured the time that had passed. In the Cheonun Sect, where heroes and ordinary men were divided by the standard of martial prowess, no one knew how much mockery and ridicule he had been forced to bear. And no one knew how he had managed to keep walking forward, step by step, until today.

The disciples who had once entered the Cheonun Sect alongside him had, one by one, become dragons soaring high into the heavens. Each time, Yeop Pung had tried every method he could, wriggling like a loach struggling in a shallow stream — and it had all been for nothing. In the end, all he could do was look up at the sky.

Eight years was more than enough time to turn a once-brilliant genius disciple into an unremarkable handyman disciple whom no one paid any mind. And that time had transformed even Yeop Pung's bright, radiant nature into something quiet and dark.

Yeop Pung had long since grown accustomed to repeated failure. Only the flame of obsession in his heart, a flame that would never go out, sustained him. He strove, and strove again. And yet fate seemed determined to hand him a despairing conclusion. The inner sect disciple selection examination of the Cheonun Sect, three days from now, was the last chance remaining to him.

He was already sixteen. If he failed to break through to the Profound Realm, he would be driven from the sect without mercy. It would mean a life cut off forever from the martial path.

The morning sun rose as if ablaze, breathing vibrant life into the Cheonun Mountain Range.

Yeop Pung had not slept a wink through the night. He left his quarters and headed for the Herb Garden, where he worked during the day.

According to Cheonun Sect tradition, new disciples had a three-year training period in which they were expected to temper their bodies and break through to the Profound Realm. Disciples who failed to break through after those three years were deemed of ordinary talent by the sect, and were assigned various menial tasks to contribute in other ways. Yeop Pung had fallen to precisely that status — a handyman disciple — and had already spent five years here.

Every year, as the inner sect disciple selection examination drew near, a gloomy atmosphere settled over the Herb Garden. The handyman disciples facing expulsion crouched among the plots, lamenting the unfairness of fate and worrying over what awaited them once they left the Cheonun Sect.

Over the past five years, Yeop Pung had thought himself thoroughly accustomed to that sight. But now that the situation had fallen upon him, his heart was not nearly as settled as he had expected.

"Brother Yeop Pung, you're here!"

The moment Yeop Pung arrived at the Herb Garden, voices called out to him from every direction. Over five years here he had looked after many of the newer handyman disciples, and he had earned a fair measure of trust and standing as the senior among them.

Yeop Pung offered a slight smile, hiding the shadow over his heart, and assigned everyone their work as he always did before heading to his own plot. He began the daily labor of planting herbs.

But today, no one seemed to have any mind for work. Many of them crouched in the garden, chatting among themselves.

"Damn it! I poured four years of blood and sweat into cultivation, and I still couldn't break through to the Profound Realm! I've been planting these damned herbs for a whole year! Heaven is heartless!"

Someone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spat curses, unable to contain their frustration. Others took what comfort they could from seeing people in the same predicament.

"Heh, you call that heartless? There's someone who's hung on here for four or five years, and he's getting kicked out with the rest of us anyway."

"Jang Oh, what the hell are you saying!"

At those words, a dark-skinned disciple beside him shot to his feet and glared.

"N-no, Brother Yi Sang, I didn't mean Brother Yeop Pung..."

Jang Oh realized he had misspoken and hurriedly tried to explain himself.

"With Brother Yeop Pung's skills, he could leave the Cheonun Sect and still live just fine..."

"Shut up!"

Yi Sang snorted coldly and dropped down beside Yeop Pung. He had arrived at the herb fields a year after Yeop Pung and had done menial labor for the past four years. To Yeop Pung, he was one of the few friends in this Herb Garden with whom he could truly share his heart.

"Brother Yeop Pung, don't mind what that idiot said."

"He's always had a loose tongue. Aigoo, it's fine."

Yeop Pung pulled weeds at his feet and offered Yi Sang a faint smile. But today his mouth felt especially heavy, and no matter how he tried, the corners of his lips would not lift.

"Brother, like Jang Oh said, with your skills you don't need to worry even if you leave the Cheonun Sect. Brother, come with me. My family runs an escort agency in the city. I'll vouch for you and get you a captain's post. We'd eat well and live well, I know it!"

Yi Sang's family had a certain reputation in Bongsang County Seat, at the foot of Mount Tianyun. They operated one of the most prominent escort agencies for a hundred miles around. Yi Sang thought his words would help Yeop Pung. But to Yeop Pung, they stabbed like needles.

I suffered through eight years of this — and for what? A captain's post in an escort agency?

That would be a tragedy too absurd for words.

Just then, a commotion erupted from beyond the Herb Garden.

"Hey! Y-you — why are you hitting people!"

What was going on? Yeop Pung and Yi Sang turned at the same time and ran toward the sound.

In the clearing in front of the Herb Garden, three boys in outer sect disciple uniforms had surrounded a handyman disciple sprawled on the ground. Two stood in front, eyes flashing fiercely. Behind them stood a boy of about thirteen or fourteen, his arms crossed.

The boy wore his black hair long, and despite his young age his face was full of arrogance. He looked down at the fallen handyman disciple with an expression as if he were royalty.

"What, we're not allowed to hit him?"

The sturdy boy on the left of the two in front sneered.

"Do you even know who we are? This is Young Master Gi Beonjin, champion of this year's new disciple tournament. We came to collect the spirit medicine he received as his prize, and you dare tell us you don't have it?"

The other one's face was as cold as a sheet of ice.

"Hmph! Enough useless talk. Bring Young Master Gi Beonjin his herbs, now. Or you'll regret it."

"Th-that's Gi Beonjin!"

Whispers reached Yeop Pung's ears from the people around him.

Gi Beonjin. His name and his abilities had spread widely among the outer sect disciples of the Cheonun Sect over the past two years, making him famous. He had reached the completion of the Body Realm within a year of entering the sect, and broken through to the Profound Realm in less than two. At a mere fourteen years of age, he had surpassed countless senior disciples to claim a commanding victory in the recent outer sect disciple tournament. Gi Beonjin was the brightest, strongest newcomer among this year's new disciples.

But Yi Sang, standing beside Yeop Pung, quietly clicked his tongue.

"Tch! Strongest newcomer, my ass. He's nothing but an empty shell piled up with spirit pills and tonics, using the fact that his family is a prominent clan in Bongsang County Seat!"

Yeop Pung, watching the arrogant boy from a distance, nodded as well. He could clearly sense a powerful aura of the Profound Realm from the other party. But in bearing and presence, the boy was pitifully lacking compared to the innate geniuses Yeop Pung had seen over the past several years.

"You're right."

Yeop Pung agreed with Yi Sang.

"That one has decent martial skill, that's all. He's a long way from the likes of Yi Hwawu or Un Cheoncheon from back then."

Yeop Pung and Yi Sang whispered in low voices. But the cold-faced boy in the distance seemed to have sharp ears, and appeared to have heard every word. He turned a fierce gaze upon the two of them.