10. Cheolwon Pavilion (3)
Climbing the cliff face proved easier than expected. At first, he nearly slipped and fell several times, but his nimble movements blocked every mishap.
His hands and feet moved ahead of his thoughts, jamming into the rock's crevices. When one hand groped upward, three of his limbs formed a triangle for balance; once he found a grip, they shifted into another triangle, inching him higher bit by bit.
It wasn't without ups and downs. Untrimmed nails broke and tore without warning, his clothes shredded against the stone, and abrasions bloomed across his body.
Sometimes, glancing down without thinking made his head spin. Only then did the reality hit: he was dangling from a cliff dozens of zhang high. Each time, he gritted his teeth, craned his neck, and fixed his gaze upward.
By the time he reached the top, the sun was already dipping low in the distance.
Gazing at the Samcheong Hall bathed in orange hues, he swelled with emotion. The building's beauty was secondary; what filled him with pride was that he had scaled that sheer wall.
Of course, the pride didn't last. The elder who had received his dispatch grumbled about the delay, and descending the cliff proved even harder than the ascent.
By the time he made it back down to Cheolwon Pavilion, Mt. Wudang had been swallowed by darkness. Everyone seemed to have retired to their quarters; the place was deserted. As he pondered what to do next, a figure flashed out of the shadows.
"Gah!"
He toppled backward, landing hard on his butt. A simple step back should have sufficed, but his legs had gone completely limp.
"You damn brat! What the hell kept you so late?"
It was Cheongsu, master of Cheolwon Pavilion. With everyone else off duty, why was this guy still hanging around? It grated on him.
He pushed himself up from the ground, dusting off his pants.
"I went to deliver the dispatch, didn't I?"
"Not even half the messages for Samcheong Hall got sent today! Do you know the grief I endured placating their people complaining about the late messenger?"
"That's why I told you I'd be delayed."
"You think that's an excuse?"
Cheongsu bellowed at him. Truth be told, he couldn't have climbed any faster.
"You can't leave until you've finished all the dispatches for Samcheong Hall."
"Pardon?"
What thunderbolt was this? Peering outside, pitch blackness obscured everything—not even an inch ahead was visible.
"You're telling me to climb the cliff in this darkness?"
"That's your job."
"Are you trying to kill me?"
"If you can't manage it, then yeah, you die. Does it make sense for a Wudang core disciple to plummet from a cliff?"
"And if I refuse?"
"I'll personally cripple your dantian and kick you out myself."
"Cheonghwa Zhenren would love that."
"You're just a provisional core disciple—not even Cheonghwa's student. You think he'll complain over trash like you?"
He had no retort. Even he wouldn't value some kid who became a core disciple on a technicality.
"……Understood."
"Then get to it. I'm heading home."
Damn bastard. He silently unleashed a torrent of curses while glaring at Cheongsu's retreating back.
He returned to the dispatch room. A faint, flickering lantern lit the space.
The pile of messages for Samcheong Hall was still massive—likely grown even larger while he'd been away.
"Shit."
No way could he clear that in daytime alone. Tomorrow's batch would pile up just the same.
No choice—he'd work through the night. Fortunately, his eyes had adapted somewhat to the dark from those all-nighters fleeing. He stuffed his satchel full of bamboo tubes and slung it over his shoulder.
Reaching the base of the Samcheong Hall cliff was a breeze now. He'd grown familiar with Wudang's paths. Merchants needed sharp memories and a keen sense of direction; he'd never forgotten a trade route after one trip.
"The real problem's the cliff."
The wall loomed like an inky void. Moonlight struck its back, leaving no glow.
But he trusted his nimble movements. Without that faith, he wouldn't have come this far.
"Hoo."
He drew a deep breath and gripped the same holds as before. A strange sensation washed over him.
Incredibly, he remembered the entire route—not in his head, but in his body. No matter his memory, he couldn't memorize a climbing path. This had to be the nimble movements' doing.
He ascended slowly, groping the rock. In truth, he barely needed to grope. Even in darkness, his hands knew where to go; his feet naturally found purchase.
Halfway up, he spotted a pattern to the climb.
He'd been too frantic earlier to notice. With some leeway now, he realized he'd maintained the same posture, loading the same holds consistently.
Understanding the pattern made it drastically easier.
He summited swiftly, handing the bamboo tubes to the duty officer at Samcheong Hall, who gawked at a messenger arriving at this hour.
Thus, he scaled the cliff three times that night. Considering he'd used the full day for just one earlier, it was staggering progress.
"Haa."
Confirming no Samcheong Hall tubes remained, he slumped against the wall. The job done, exhaustion crashed over him.
Feeling dawn creep through the window slits, he passed out cold.
Cheongsu ran into Cheonghwa outside Cheolwon Pavilion. Ignoring her courteous clasped-hands bow, he brushed past. Cheonghwa smiled and sidled up behind him.
"I told you I'd handle it—did you doubt me that much?"
"How could I doubt Martial Brother? Just curious, that's all."
"You begged me to grind him. And grind him I am."
"Grind him harder. He's got talent; he'll manage."
When Cheonghwa had visited before, she'd asked a favor: a talented kid lacking basics was coming.
No matter the innate martial prowess, without foundational stamina—or with a protruding belly—mastering martial arts was tough. Cheonghwa seemed genuinely intent on raising this Muk Hwi-yeong.
Wudang's great fortune.
Cheonghwa was known for taking few disciples relative to her strength, teaching only those who caught her eye. Captivating her at first glance meant the kid was no ordinary sort.
"And talent he has. Scaled the Samcheong Hall cliff on day one. Probably brute-forced it, but he knows how to move his body."
"Heh. Really? Impressive."
Pulling an all-nighter didn't matter. What counted was an untrained novice conquering the Samcheong Hall cliff.
"He's probably climbing it right now. I told him to try at night. He can't have left long ago."
Cheongsu spoke as he eyed the morning sun. Scaling it in darkness required grasping the cliff's martial principles. The Samcheong Hall cliff wasn't mere rock—it was a natural martial manual.
"Martial Brother's got high hopes too, huh? Sending him up at night on day one."
"Hmph. Hopes? Few climb it first day, so I tossed it out there. Even geniuses need their pride broken early."
Cheonghwa nodded. The Central Plains teemed with geniuses, and Wudang drew the best.
Some geniuses thought themselves supreme until glimpsing heavens beyond—and crumbling. The cure? Early setbacks, to build resilience.
Without moonlight, the cliff was pitch black—impossible to climb. Muk Hwi-yeong had likely paced at the base, daunted, until dawn broke.
"Must be a huge backlog for Samcheong Hall."
"Got me chewed out royally for it."
"Sorry, Martial Brother."
Cheongsu sighed at Cheonghwa's smirking apology. You couldn't spit on a smiling face, but that grin made him want to punch her.
"Got business at Samcheong Hall. Hand over the dispatches—I'll handle them. A master's duty to cover for his disciple."
"Well, well. Already calling him your disciple? Wasn't he provisional?"
"Heh heh. Telling you early so you don't get ideas. He's mine."
"Ridiculous."
Cheongsu shook his head and opened the dispatch room door. He froze. Someone slumped against the side wall, head bowed.
More strikingly, the Samcheong Hall dispatch stack was cleared clean.
"Heh."
Cheonghwa, following, saw it too.
"He's not dead, is he?"
A soft breath escaped Muk Hwi-yeong's lips. Head down, asleep—it was their conversation's subject.
"……No dispatches left."
Cheonghwa pointed it out. Both peak experts fell silent at the unbelievable sight.
Wudang gathered only genius-of-geniuses. It ranked among the Nine Great Sects for good reason.
Yet even they had never seen someone master the Qingyun Step etched into the Samcheong Hall cliff on day one.
And Cheongsu knew the backlog's size.
"Not a round-trip job. At least three climbs."
Cheongsu nailed the exact count. Cheonghwa clicked her tongue again. Three full ascents and descents?
She needed to redefine "genius." At Wudang, everyone was called one, diluting the term.
Genius—heaven-bestowed talent—fit Muk Hwi-yeong alone.
"What a shame. Ten years earlier, and he'd be a pillar of the martial world……."
Cheongsu tsked. Cheonghwa agreed fervently.
Showing this talent with rigid meridians and bones set? Ten years sooner, he'd absorb every teaching like a sponge.
"……Martial Brother."
"Hm?"
Cheongsu met Cheonghwa's gaze—regret, greed, excitement, delight all mingled.
"Let's grind him harder."