The Savior of Wudang
The heart of Mount Wudang.
This mountain, suffused with sacred celestial energy, had not been mystical from the beginning. It all began with Zhang Sanfeng, the founder of the Wudang Sect and the supreme swordsman of his era. When he shed his mortal coil and ascended to the heavens, the radiant resonance he left behind took root throughout the peaks and valleys, permanently elevating the foundation of the entire sect.
In the centuries that followed, illustrious masters of later generations followed in his footsteps, ascending one after another. With each ascension, holy qi accumulated, layer upon layer, until the present day—where Mount Wudang’s aura had become so dense that venturing into its Deep Sanctum was nearly impossible for ordinary mortals.
So sacred was the place that virtually no one alive knew what lay within the Deep Sanctum. According to Cheong-won, only a single soul currently resided there: Cheong-won’s martial granduncle, who had served as the sect leader fifty years ago. He was also said to be the sole keeper of the Wudang Sect's heirloom treasure, the Taiji Heavenly Tablet.
Naturally, that raised a question: what would happen to the Taiji Heavenly Tablet once the old man passed away? The answer was simple—they would leave it there. After all, entering the Deep Sanctum required risking one’s very life.
For practitioners of the demonic path, approaching it was an outright impossibility. If the ambient celestial energy in the mountain's heart was already this concentrated, the sheer spiritual pressure within the Deep Sanctum was unimaginable.
Yet, even knowing the invaders could never lay a finger on the Taiji Heavenly Tablet, Wudang had refused to yield an inch of ground. What sect with an ounce of pride would stand idly by and decline to defend its ancestral grounds just because the enemy’s ultimate prize was out of reach?
The cost of that resistance was severe: the collective internal trauma suffered by their Transcendent Realm masters. Even so, doing nothing would have dragged the sect’s prestigious name through the dirt.
While Ryeong was relieved that the Demon Blood Divine Cult hadn’t stolen the Taiji Heavenly Tablet, it was frustrating that it remained beyond her reach. Hyeok had instructed her to gather the five sacred relics, but if the tablet was sealed away in an untouchable sanctum, how could she even ask for it?
“Are you having any difficulty breathing?” Cheong-won asked, glancing at her with concern.
“Not at all. If anything, it feels even more comfortable,” Ryeong replied cheerfully.
“...In all my years, I have met countless people, but never someone who wields power like yours.”
“Thank you for the compliment. I do have a knack for surprising people.”
Cheong-won swallowed his astonishment at her nonchalant demeanor. Under normal circumstances, any martial artist venturing this deep would struggle for every breath. Even Cheong-won felt slightly light-headed, his body buoyant against the concentrated celestial qi. Yet Ryeong showed not the slightest strain; she claimed to feel more at home than ever. Between the sacred aura she possessed and her effortless composure, a thought crossed his mind:
One could easily mistake her for an immortal walking the mortal earth.
He couldn't shake the uncanny impression that she was an enlightened being who had already transcended and stepped beyond the heavens. Transcendent Realm or not, her abilities defied all conventional martial logic. Jin-yeong, who had attempted to accompany them, had been forced to turn back early, unable to endure the pressure. Everything Ryeong had displayed since arriving at Wudang had completely shattered Cheong-won's understanding of the world.
“I sense a foul demonic qi,” Ryeong noted, her tone darkening. “For it to reek this pungently on a mountain teeming with sacred energy, things must be dire.”
“You can perceive it from this distance?”
“Yes. Sniffing out demonic qi happens to be a specialty of mine.”
The demonic aura Ryeong sensed was thicker and more virulent than any she had encountered before. It seemed the Demon Blood Divine Cult's assault on Mount Wudang had been far larger in scale and viciousness than reported.
She arrived at the medical pavilion a moment later, and her brow furrowed at the scene before her. The groaning masters lay sprawled across the floor, their veins bulging black and mottled across their skin, their faces ash-dark and deathly pale.
Their condition was worse than anticipated. Drawing upon the pure energy of the Celestial Immortal Divine Art, Ryeong walked directly toward the fallen Taoists. A startled caretaker rushed to bar her way, taken aback by an unfamiliar outsider, but Cheong-won announced from behind that she was an honored guest, prompting the attendant to step aside immediately.
In truth, using the Celestial Immortal Divine Art to heal others was a first for Ryeong as well. She only knew that its regenerative power far surpassed ordinary divine techniques and that it harbored an innate hostility toward demonic energy. She had reasoned that infusing it into another's meridian network might purge the corruption. Having tested that theory successfully on Cheong-won, she was now ready to treat the critical cases.
A pure, sacred radiance surges forth, flooding the meridians and annihilating the festering demonic taint.
Without a second of hesitation or preparation, Ryeong channeled her celestial qi straight into the first elder's acupoints. Instantly, the corrupted Taoist's eyes snapped open. Paralyzed by the venomous demonic qi and unable even to breathe properly, the sudden influx of soothing warmth jolted him back to consciousness.
“W-Who are you...?”
“I'm in the middle of treating you, so we can talk later. Focus on the energy I'm guiding into your meridians and begin circulating your qi.”
“I... I understand.”
Now able to move on his own, the elder sat cross-legged and focused his cultivation. With the Celestial Immortal Divine Art cornering and suppressing the invasive demonic blight, his vitality surged back. It took only moments for his pure orthodox internal energy to completely incinerate the trapped corruption.
“How does your body feel?” Cheong-won asked.
“Sect Leader... Who in heaven's name is this young lady? To purge demonic qi with such astonishing speed...!”
“I am Jin Ryeong, a third-generation disciple of the Mount Zhongnan Sect,” she answered politely. “Hearing that the pillars of Mount Wudang were suffering, I came to offer what aid I could.”
“Zhongnan... Ah, yes. They entered secluded seclusion last year, so they must have reopened their gates by now.”
Daoist Cheong-ryu nodded thoughtfully. That hardly explained how a third-generation disciple possessed such terrifying power, but he sensed she wouldn't elaborate even if he pressed.
Ryeong was already moving on to the next patient. Having gained a feel for the process while treating Cheong-ryu, her efficiency accelerated with each pass. In less than an hour, she had successfully healed every last elder in the chamber. Deeply humbled, the restored masters crowded around, offering their heartfelt gratitude.
“Thank you, Ryeong,” Cheong-won said, bowing deeply. “Thanks to you, our most dire crisis has been resolved. Words cannot express the debt of gratitude we owe you.”
“Think nothing of it. Now, as I requested earlier, would you be willing to dispatch reinforcements?”
Before Cheong-won could answer, his martial brothers and elders roared with fiery indignation.
“Of course! This time, we will pay those bastards back in full!”
“The sin of staining sacred Mount Wudang with blood cannot be forgiven. We will make them pay tenfold!”
“I appreciate your passion, Daoist elders,” Ryeong intervened calmly, “but your bodies have not fully recovered yet. You still need proper rest.”
Delaying the expedition was an option. The orthodox sects would gladly wait if informed that Wudang's masters were joining the fray. But the enemy was the real problem. Ryeong knew that the Five Blood Kings were serving as the vanguard and bridgehead for the invasion of the Central Plains. The longer they delayed, the more likely the cult would reinforce their strongholds. Stalling merely to field healthier troops risked walking into an even deadlier trap.
“Our vanguard will depart one day later than planned,” Ryeong proposed. “The rest of you elders should set out a day after us. Three days total should be sufficient for your internal energy to stabilize.”
“Understood. We will do as you say.”
“Thank you for your cooperation. Truly.”
“Nonsense! After the immense grace you have shown us by saving our lives, if we could not even do this much, we would have no right to call ourselves Daoists of Wudang!”
With that, eight masters of the Transcendent Realm were added to the expeditionary force. It felt as though she had gained an army of thousands. Though the elders would depart a day late, their cultivation meant they would arrive at the enemy stronghold within an hour or two of the main force. They would serve as true reinforcements in the thick of the battle.
And then—
“...!?”
Ryeong stiffened as a strange, otherworldly presence washed over her senses. She whipped around. One by one, the Sect Leader and the elders followed her gaze, and collective gasps echoed through the hall.
Standing at the entrance was someone none of them had ever imagined seeing here.
“M-Martial Granduncle Ok-yeong?!”
“Martial Granduncle, what brings you down here?!”
The reclusive master of the Deep Sanctum of Mount Wudang. The unofficial supreme powerhouse of the entire Wudang Sect: Ok-yeong.
The ancient hermit had dragged his weathered body down to the mountain's central grounds. Such a thing had never occurred in living memory, leaving the Sect Leader and elders rooted to the floor in disbelief.
Yet Ok-yeong’s gaze bypassed his sect members entirely. His eyes, glowing with a clear, lucid fire, were locked onto Ryeong. It didn't take long for the others to realize the truth: Ok-yeong had come solely for her. In an instant, the way the elders looked at Ryeong shifted into profound awe.
“I have waited... for one such as you... for a very long time,” the ancient Daoist murmured softly.
“Greetings to the grand elder of Wudang. I am Jin Ryeong.”
“What an honor this is... To witness His power with my own eyes before my time comes...”
Stepping forward, Ok-yeong held out his weathered hands and offered her an object carved of pure black and white jade.
“M-Martial Granduncle?!”
“How could you give away the Taiji Heavenly Tablet...?!”
The elders of the Cheong generation cried out in sheer bewilderment. Most of them had only ever heard tales of the Taiji Heavenly Tablet, never setting eyes on the artifact in their entire lives. Yet here was Ok-yeong, handing it freely to an outsider.
Indebted as they were to Ryeong for saving their lives, the Taiji Heavenly Tablet was an entirely different matter. It was the paramount symbol of Mount Wudang. The sole remaining relic bequeathed by Zhang Sanfeng himself. An artifact whose sheer existence validated the prestige of the sect.
Yet Ok-yeong had placed that sacred symbol into Ryeong’s hands without a shred of hesitation. It was an unprecedented event in the sect’s history.
“How can I accept this...?” Ryeong stammered, bewildered.
A voice resonated directly in Ryeong’s mind through sound transmission, and a violent shudder ran down her spine. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected anyone else in the mortal realm to speak that name.
Her expression warped with shock. Ok-yeong observed her reaction, his gaze remaining crystal clear and calm.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Ryeong’s heart hammered furiously against her ribs. In the most unexpected place imaginable, the veil surrounding Hyeok was finally beginning to part.