Martial Manuals Can Be Found at the Library

In the middle of a bustling street on the southern side of the city center stood a large building, planted there as solidly as if it had every right to the space.

This was a martial arts manual shop — better known simply as a library. And in truth, the exterior looked very much like one.

As a government-certified manual shop, it was also called the State Library. Under administrative regulations, every city was required to have at least one. It was a form of social welfare. Every martial arts hopeful had the right to freely study martial arts.

In larger cities, private libraries run by corporations or sects often existed alongside the State Library. Depending on their operators, private libraries specialized in selling particular styles of martial arts.

A Wudang private library, for instance, specialized in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Taoist-lineage techniques and provided custom training facilities to match. This city, however, was a rural one. There were no private libraries here — only a handful of State Libraries.

"If there's a field you want to dig into specially, a private library would be nice," Un-rang said as they stepped into the building. "But honestly, the State Library is nothing to scoff at. It's under the direct, eagle-eyed management of the Galactic Government — the Imperial Court — which sits above the planetary governments. Far more trustworthy than most private libraries. And larger, too."

Unlike private libraries, the State Library made no distinctions. It stocked manuals of every kind with comprehensive neutrality. The sheer number of manuals it held put private libraries to shame, and the building itself tended to be larger as well.

"If you compare it to school," Un-rang went on, "the State Library is regular class. A private library is more like after-school tutoring for a specific subject."

"Didn't you say elementary and middle schools for kids are all under the Galactic Government as well?" Gong Ryun said. "They keep a pretty tight grip on education."

"Exactly. The government is truly serious about education. The most important resource in the galaxy is none other than people themselves."

No matter how well you built an excavator, it could never match digging with martial arts.

No matter how powerful a chemical bomb you made, it was weaker than a single strike from a high-level master.

In the end, in this age of galactic murim, the most cost-effective resource of all was the human being. Feed them, and they would teach themselves martial arts and grow strong on their own.

Which was why education mattered. Martial arts were not something stamped out on a conveyor belt. You could not plug a chip into your brain and learn them that way either. You had to learn them directly from a master, or from a book. You had to wring your mind dry, wrestle with understanding, and earn your own insights before anything truly took root.

And so education had continued to advance with the ages — always toward teaching more easily, more quickly.

"Long ago, before the age of galactic expansion — back in the 'Terra Era,' when humanity lived only on Earth — people did not understand the importance of education," Un-rang said. "Much as primitive humans failed to understand the importance of economics. They kept martial arts closed off and taught them only among themselves, so progress was slow. But once the pre-modern industrial age brought large-scale research into systematic curricula, human civilization finally took wing."

That was how it used to be.

A sect's martial arts belonged only to the sect. A clan's martial arts belonged only to the clan.

But the times had changed. Martial arts were made public, and education flourished with them.

That humanity had been able to open the age of galactic expansion rested, too, on the advance of education. Martial arts were, after all, a form of learning. Sects and demonic cults alike were, in the broad view, nothing more than educational institutions.

Rising educational standards brought endless progress. Martial arts ceased to be merely a matter of swinging a sword around. They entered the domain of science and technology.

"I still don't understand the principle behind interstellar shrinking-earth dimensional gates," Gong Ryun admitted. "I searched the internet, but I couldn't make head or tail of it."

"The interstellar dimensional gates were built by the greatest geniuses in human history," Un-rang said. "It would be stranger if you understood them overnight."

"I suppose it's like relativity or quantum mechanics — things you can look at and still not grasp."

"Precisely. Heh heh."

They pushed open the library entrance. The first thing that met their eyes was the pamphlet area, which occupied the entire first floor.

It was a space lined with promotional pamphlets, each bearing an overview and a brief description of a martial arts manual — a place to browse what techniques were for sale. It looked rather like a bookstore.

Promotional posters hung here and there as well. One read, "Blood Demon Horse Spear Technique — Special Discount!" An expensive model posed inside the poster.

Gong Ryun picked up a pamphlet. It was for the palm technique Pagojang — the Void-Breaking Palm. The stiff paper felt solid in his hand. Across five or six pages, the technique's origin and history, a brief technical outline, and demonstration photos were laid out in a clean, attractive design.

"Hm? Gong Ryun. Thinking of learning Pagojang?"

"Not particularly. But that unfilial Jason used it yesterday, so it caught my eye."

"Heh heh heh. The performance isn't bad, but I wouldn't personally recommend it."

"I don't much care for it either. The internal energy consumption is needlessly high."

"Being able to deliver a fairly strong instant shockwave is an advantage, true. Beyond that, though, the technique has little to recommend it. High energy cost, and very few variant forms. Ah — the low price is an advantage, I suppose."

"A bargain-bin unorthodox-style technique, then."

"It's the kind of technique you pick up as a spare — something for breaking free of an opponent's continuous assault. An emergency tool."

In other ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠words, a backup dagger tucked in the rear pocket.

But that was not the manual Gong Ryun had come to buy today. He had decided before they even arrived.

His savings had piled up nicely of late, and he had been itching to purchase one quality technique.

Gong Ryun and Un-rang skimmed the pamphlet area and headed for the counter at the far end of the first floor.

The counters were staffed like a bank, with several clerks waiting. Un-rang and Gong Ryun each approached an open station.

A clerk greeted Gong Ryun.

"Welcome. Is there a product you're looking for?"

Gong Ryun named the technique he had settled on.

"I'd like to purchase the manual for the Haenam Sect's palm technique, Parangjang."

Not Pa-gong-jang. Pa-rang-jang. Pagojang meant a palm art that shattered the void; Parangjang meant a palm art that embodied the principles of ocean waves — the characters for 'wave' and 'billow.'

"Yes. One moment, please."

Click-clack. The clerk tapped at a computer.

"There are three versions of Parangjang: Basic, Intermediate, and Advanced. Would you like to purchase them individually, or as a set?"

Basic, Intermediate, and Advanced could be thought of as upper, middle, and lower volumes of a divided set. The Basic volume covered proper stance, overall internal energy circulation, and the foundational forms that built the framework.

The Intermediate and Advanced volumes then delved into techniques derived from the basics, high-output skills, and the finer points of internal energy flow.

The Basic volume was quite cheap — a kind of trial version, supposedly. Buy it first, the public-minded argument went, and decide afterward whether to learn the rest.

Though Gong Ryun could not shake a less charitable suspicion: that splitting one volume into three was simply a sales tactic.

In any case, he had bought the Basic volume previously, tried it out, and judged it a solid technique. He had decided to learn it properly.

"I'll take the Intermediate and Advanced as a set."

"Ah. Set discounts only apply to the full Basic–Intermediate–Advanced package, or to a Basic–Intermediate set."

In other words: if you wanted the set discount, you had better not test the waters with the Basic volume — buy the whole thing from the start.

…So it was a sales tactic after all? Gong Ryun's suspicions deepened.

"Then I'll just buy them individually."

"Yes. Please complete the payment."

Beep!

Gong Ryun finished the payment on his personal device.

Meanwhile, the clerk was producing the "manuals" on the machine behind the counter.

The clerk fed two thick white cards into a large machine. It wrote data into the memory storage inside each card and printed images and text onto the surfaces. Moments later, the finished cards had turned blue.

It was rather like baking cookies.

"Here are your manuals. Please note that reissue fees apply in case of loss."

The clerk handed over the two freshly made manual cards.

These ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were modern martial arts manuals: the Intermediate and Advanced volumes of Parangjang.

The surface of each card bore the Haenam Sect's brand mark — a wave design. The color was the Haenam Sect's signature sea-blue. The words Parangjang Intermediate and Parangjang Advanced were printed on them, and the reverse side listed the owner's name and the selling shop's information.

The contents of the technique were not stored on the cards themselves. They were a kind of security key: plug one into a library computer, and you could access the corresponding technique. You could not view it on a personal computer.

That was why these shops were called libraries rather than bookstores. You could not study a manual at home — only here.

As Gong Ryun left the counter, Un-rang had just finished his own purchase.

Looking at Un-rang's card, Gong Ryun saw it was the same blue as his own.

"Un-rang. What manual did you buy?"

"I purchased a Haenam Sect footwork manual."

Sure enough — the same sect.

"Hm? I thought you were getting a staff technique manual."

"Ah. That was the original plan, but this one happened to be on sale. The clerk and I are acquainted, so she tipped me off. I'd been eyeing this technique for a while, so I snapped it up."

"Heh. Sale means buy, of course. But footwork? Aren't you already thoroughly versed in Shaolin footwork?"

"The more footwork you know, the better. And Haenam footwork is well worth learning. It was born for close combat on the deck of a ship in rough waves, so it's both stable and elusive. At high mastery, they say you can even surf on the soles of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your feet without a board."

"That's a little bizarre."

"And you bought Parangjang as planned, I see."

"Yes. Went all the way to the Advanced volume."

"Well done. Parangjang is an excellent technique. If Pagojang feels like junk food from some unorthodox corporation, Parangjang is more like a nourishing home-cooked meal made with orthodox care."

"Well, the Haenam Sect is a prestigious orthodox school. The price being a bit steep is the only real drawback."

"Martial manuals have always commanded a high price. You saw Samdo-ryu use the Jewanggeomhyeong yesterday, didn't you?"

"Oh, man. That really was strong."

"Heh heh. One must never begrudge money spent on martial arts."

Indeed. Money spent on martial arts was never money wasted.

Martial arts became blood and flesh in the truest sense.

"Well then — shall we head to a reading room?"

"Sounds good. Let's go."

Once you had a manual, the proper thing was to crack it open at once.

They stood before the elevators. From the upper floors on, the building held the reading rooms with the library computers. There, they could study their martial arts manuals.