50. Kicking Away the Torch (1)
Vomiting in the master's quarters had been contained thanks to Cheongui's mercy, preventing any spread of the news. Instead, Cheonghwa had cleaned up the mess spotlessly.
Cheonghwa grumbled at me, asking why I'd thrown up, but with no good excuse, I just mumbled that my stomach felt off. I couldn't exactly say it was an allergic reaction to the spiritual energy clashing with my demonic qi.
Fortunately, it wasn't qi deviation. Just a simple immune response from my body. If I'd blindly swallowed the Taecheong Pill, I probably would've spewed blood from all seven orifices and collapsed.
Anyway, this was my problem to solve. Whether by converting the Taecheong Pill's spiritual energy to demonic qi, changing my constitution, or just selling the damn thing if all else failed. Plenty of options.
"Ughhh."
I stretched, cracking my joints. It had been a peaceful few days.
Since returning, I'd stuck to routine training with nothing out of the ordinary.
As I sat there shaking off sleep, the door burst open.
"Little brother."
"Knock first, like I always say."
"I'm your senior brother—do I need manners too?"
"Fine, whatever. What's so urgent?"
I yawned widely, eyeing Myeonggyeong. He jerked his thumb backward.
"Master's looking for you."
"Master?"
Big deal. He'd critiqued my Ohaeng Geom just yesterday.
"Where is he?"
"Waiting at Three Peaks Pavilion."
"Three Peaks Pavilion?"
Then it hit me why Myeonggyeong was making such a fuss. Named after the sect founder, True Man Jang Sambong, it was a place every Wudang disciple dreamed of entering. The repository of all Wudang martial scriptures. Being summoned there by Master meant he was about to teach me a new technique.
"Yeah, so hurry up! Before he changes his mind. I'm off to train!"
Myeonggyeong bolted without even closing the door. I straightened my robes and headed to Three Peaks Pavilion.
My heart pounded. Was I finally ready for advanced techniques?
Come to think of it, basics like Ohaeng Geom or Samjae Geom didn't require a trip there. I'd learned them from the Myeongja division seniors. So this was my first real shot at proper Wudang advanced arts.
Three Peaks Pavilion sat tucked in a remote corner of Wudang Mountain, shrouded by formations for good reason—precious martial texts inside.
I'd been there a few times during messenger duty, but only to hand off documents at the formation's edge. Never inside.
"Master."
Cheonghwa stood with his back turned. He spun around at my voice.
"You're here."
"Yes."
"You know why I called you here."
"The birth of a world-shaking master, right?"
"Tch. No humility—how can you call yourself a Daoist?"
"I'm not a Daoist. I'm a full-fledged merchant with a trading company."
"Enough. Arguing with you on this just wears out my mouth. Follow me."
Cheonghwa led me straight into the pavilion's compound. A hazy mist filled the air—familiar somehow. Then I remembered.
"This is the same formation as at the Jeon clan estate."
"They set it up, so of course."
"Ah, got it."
The Jeon clan excelled at formations, apparently sharing with other sects. Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans competed, yet cooperated under the righteous faction banner.
First time, it'd be alien, but having seen it before, I could observe leisurely. Unlike natural qi flows, the formation twisted into closed loops, trapping energy. Illusions from deliberate distortions—makes sense.
Passing through revealed a windowless building. This was the true secret vault of Wudang martial lore: Three Peaks Pavilion.
"Books are sensitive to climate; they need stable conditions. No windows for that reason."
"I see."
"Let's go in."
Inside, a towering statue of Jang Sambong—ten zhang at least—dominated. Original wood shelves encircled it in a ring.
Half the shelves groaned under packed volumes. At least five zhang high. Ladder for the top ones?
Meanwhile, Cheonghwa pulled a worn book from the bottom shelf—the oldest-looking of all.
"Here. This is the manual for Samjae Geombeop."
"Even Samjae Geombeop is here."
"That's just the start. That entire bottom row is Samjae Geombeop variants."
Cheonghwa chuckled. Even I was stunned. Horizontal, vertical, diagonal cuts—how many versions?
"Ancestors refined it endlessly, adding annotations. Your version differs vastly from street peddlers'. Theirs lack subtlety; ours has it."
"I see."
I gazed at the shelves anew, struck by Wudang's vast history. Awe washed over me.
First goosebumps since peeking at Hwiju Merchant's gold vault as a kid.
"Impressive, right?"
"Hate to admit it with your tone, but yeah."
"This is Wudang. Accept with thanks if taken as core disciple—no questions."
Still hung up on my lay disciple choice. I changed the subject.
"So, what technique for me?"
"Hmm. What to teach?"
"That one on the top shelf."
"Dream on. Top-shelf arts are sect leader exclusives. Even you can't sniff 'em."
Higher up, the real advanced stuff. I smacked my lips.
"Besides, no instant power boost. Need solid inner energy even to start."
"How solid?"
"Sect leader arts? At least three gapja."
Over one gapja: peak expert. Two: super peak. Three: Flower Realm. Untouchable.
"Any preference?"
Cheonghwa asked slyly. I pondered. Talents in lightness skills and sword arts. Gwonjangak via Tenacity, but lacking aptitude, progress stalled.
"Oh, never asked. What heart method are you cultivating?"
"Pardon?"
I startled. Demonic qi leak? Nah, unfounded.
"Heart method. No way you took spirit pills without one. Can't properly refine without."
Didn't think of that. I hadn't cultivated normally; absorbed others' demonic qi like a true fiend.
"...Uh, well."
"No need if it's personal."
"Pardon?"
Saved from lying.
"Probing cultivation roots is taboo, even for masters."
"Thank you."
"Pity, though. Wudang sword arts need Wudang heart methods to shine."
Even I knew that. Evil faction arts: raw, fierce. Righteous: serene, refined. Wudang especially Daoist-subtle.
Then it clicked.
"Ah."
"What?"
"Found one I want."
"Which?"
"Yangui Simgong."
"Huh?"
Cheonghwa's face twisted in confusion. Wudang's famed arts: Taeguk Hyegeom sword, Cheun Jong lightness, Sipdan Geum palm. Heart: Yangui Simgong.
"...That's tricky."
"Why? Too hard?"
"Obviously. Even in Wudang history, few masters it."
Made sense. Splits mind in two for dual inner energies. Tricky. But perfect for my demonic qi mess.
"I want it."
"No lay disciple precedent. Even core lay disciples denied. Needs sect leader approval for cores."
"Get it for me."
"Not that simple. Botch it, turn idiot. Why risk?"
"I can do it."
Confident, especially mentally. Tenacity Talent built unbreakable will—no breaks since. But can't show shop.
"...I'll ask the sect leader."
Cheonghwa caved to my gaze. Persistence pays.
I also got a Yuun Geombeop manual. Advanced water principles from Ohaeng Geom. Cheonghwa picked it to soften my rough style—probably the demonic qi.
Thus ended my Three Peaks outing. Time to master real Wudang swordplay.
Cheongui closed his book with a sigh, as if it were worthless. Before him sweated his junior, Cheonghwa.
"Sudden Yangui Simgong nonsense?"
"...Tell me about it."
"Sword talent and mind cultivation are worlds apart. Great at swords and lightness doesn't mean mind mastery. Kid's never properly trained his heart."
"Can't argue."
"Out, then."
"But masters should grant disciples' wishes."
"If unreasonable, no."
Absurd. Even gifted first-gen disciples struggled; twenty years barely first stage. Third-gen lay disciple? Laughable.
"For my sake, one chance?"
"Not blocking him. Hwi-yeong's precious Wudang talent. Can't waste it."
"True, but... gut says he can."
Cheongui eyed Cheonghwa's earnest gaze.
Attached already.
Normal for master-disciple. But clouds judgment.
"Enter him in next Taiji Sword Master selection. Test his mind there."
Cheonghwa brightened, then dimmed.
"That's just dodging? Even Jade Emperor would flee that hell."
"Don't blaspheme."
Grudgingly, Cheonghwa obeyed. Slim odds, but a shot—huge mercy.
"Thanks for the consideration, Sect Leader Brother."
"Whatever. He'll fail anyway."
Neither imagined Muk Hwi-yeong seizing it.
Wudang's hell on earth: the Taiji Sword Master trials, as disciples called them.