Visitors (2)
News of the Wudang Sect Taoists’ visit spread through the Zhongnan Sect in an instant.
The second-generation disciples bustled about preparing to receive their guests, while the entry-level disciples helped with the arrangements and whispered among themselves about just what sort of people might be coming.
Even as he finished his own share of the work, Cheonhwa felt a lively energy different from the usual atmosphere settling over the sect.
The Wudang Sect…
Like Zhongnan, it was one of the Nine Great Sects, and among the righteous Taoist schools it was said to stand at the very pinnacle. Yet how different would it be from Zhongnan, a Taoist sect that still carried a strong worldly flavor?
Will they be older men of high standing, like Uncle-Master Jinhyun or the Sect Leader?
Cheonhwa pictured the visiting Wudang Taoists in his mind. When he thought of Taoists, the first images that rose were of elderly figures like Jinhyun or Okwon Jinin, and he simply assumed these newcomers would be the same.
The Wudang Taoists who actually arrived, however, were the complete opposite of his expectations. Every one of them had the still-youthful face of someone barely past adulthood.
The young man at the head of the party stepped forward and offered the first greeting.
“This junior pays his respects to his seniors.”
“You are welcome at the Zhongnan Sect.”
The Wudang Taoists were guided through the sect by the second-generation disciples. The third-generation disciples watched the welcome from nearby, and Cheonhwa stood among his martial brothers, observing with the rest.
So these are the Taoists of Wudang.
He was surprised by how young they were, but even more startling was the refined qi he could clearly sense even from a distance. Their cultivated energy felt almost like that of the second-generation uncle-masters.
Beside him, Myeonghwa could not hold back his admiration either.
“Wow. I heard that by generation they count as third-generation disciples just like us, but the gap is heaven and earth.”
“They’re third-generation disciples?”
“Yeah. Every sect takes disciples at different times. There’s a pretty big age difference, but you can still treat them as the same generation.”
Cheonhwa looked toward the Wudang Taoists again. The visible age gap was only about ten years; a few of them did not even look as if they had passed their early twenties.
“Unlike us entry-level disciples, they’re full formal disciples, right?”
“Of course. And not ordinary formal disciples either—they were specially selected for the Righteous Path Journey. Their skill is bound to be outstanding.”
The Righteous Path Journey.
It was a form of martial pilgrimage practiced by the Nine Great Sects: an exchange tour in which promising talents visited each of the other great schools. Only the most promising disciples of each sect were allowed to take part. The groups were small—anywhere from three to ten people—and the leader of each party was either the Head Disciple or someone of equivalent standing.
“The one leading this Wudang Righteous Path Journey is Young Hero Heogong. I heard he’s the Head Disciple of the Heo generation.”
Cheonhwa’s gaze followed the direction Myeonghwa indicated. There stood the young man who had stepped forward as their representative.
Even if he had not sought the position, he was the one closest to being Head Disciple. How, Cheonhwa wondered, did Heogong himself regard that place?
They said there would be a formal exchange soon.
If the chance came, he would ask.
That was what Cheonhwa decided.
The first day of the Wudang Taoists’ visit ended with a welcoming ceremony and rest to shake off the fatigue of travel. The real exchange began the following day.
They called it an “exchange,” but in truth it was closer to the Wudang disciples recounting the experiences they had gathered on their journey through the martial world. The entry-level disciples, who as martial artists had never once stepped outside their own sect, listened with rapt attention.
The most energetic questioner among them was none other than Myeonghwa.
“Which sects have you visited so far?”
“On the way to Zhongnan we stopped at three places in total. In Henan we visited the Beggar’s Union and Shaolin, then crossed into Shaanxi and called at Mount Hua.”
They asked which schools the party had passed through and what had happened there; they also sought practical advice from seniors who had already tasted the wider world.
“What do you consider most important on a long journey like this?”
“Learning a light-body art suited to long-distance travel. If your attainment is low, the schedule simply falls behind.”
“Even if you have learned the right footwork, roaming the vast Central Plains is still no small hardship.”
Questions and answers flew back and forth. Cheonhwa watched from the side. In the middle of the lively crowd he found himself at a loss for what to say if he approached, and he could not help envying Myeonghwa’s thick-skinned, shameless way of simply pushing forward.
He was quietly sighing and staring at Heogong when he felt someone approaching.
Turning, he saw the youngest-looking boy among the Wudang Taoists. The boy looked Cheonhwa up and down from head to toe, then spoke in a tone far too flippant for a Taoist.
“I’m Heosang. You’re Cheonhwa—the strongest among Zhongnan’s Hua-generation disciples?”
“I am Cheonhwa, yes. What business do you have with me?”
“I came to get a look at the face of the guy they call the strongest of his generation… but…”
The boy Taoist stared at him as if he could not believe his eyes.
“I don’t feel any of that special genius aura I sensed from the prodigies at the other sects. Don’t tell me you’re some young master from a great clan?”
“I’m an orphan with no family.”
“Not that either?”
Heosang looked at him with open puzzlement.
“You’re not a genius and you don’t have a powerful backer. So how did you become the strongest entry-level disciple?”
“I simply worked hard in an ordinary way.”
In truth he had been blessed by fortuitous encounters as well, but he felt no desire to explain any of that to someone so rude at first meeting.
“That’s ridiculous. Or is it that the level of Zhongnan’s third-generation disciples is just—”
Before Heosang could finish a remark he would never be able to take back, a calm voice cut in from a distance.
“Junior Brother Heosang.”
It was the young Taoist Heogong.
“Tch. I’ll deal with you later.”
Heosang clicked his tongue and fled the scene at once. The speed of his escape suggested this was far from the first time such a thing had happened.
Heogong let out a sigh, then turned to Cheonhwa with an apologetic expression.
“I am sorry. My junior brother has caused you trouble.”
“It’s all right. He does seem rather hot-tempered, though.”
“To my shame, yes. He is our youngest disciple, but his mental cultivation has not kept pace with his skill.”
Heogong gave a bitter smile and bowed his head.
“I am late with introductions. I am Heogong, third-generation disciple of the Wudang Sect. May I ask the name of my Dao Friend?”
“I am Cheonhwa, third-generation disciple of the Zhongnan Sect.”
“You have been looking my way for some time. Is there something you wished to ask?”
“…”
For a moment Cheonhwa was at a complete loss for words. The idea that the other man had sensed his gaze and come over of his own accord made him want to crawl into a hole. Still, he could not waste an opportunity that had sought him out, so he swallowed his embarrassment and answered.
“I heard that Daoist Heogong is the Head Disciple. How did you come to hold that position?”
“That… is an unexpected question.”
Heogong looked intrigued, yet answered with complete sincerity.
“That this humble Taoist became Head Disciple is closer to something that simply happened of its own accord.”
“Of its own accord?”
“I mean that, as a direct disciple of the Sect Leader’s line, I naturally assumed the role of Head Disciple.”
Every sect had different rules, and the method of choosing a Head Disciple was no exception. Where Zhongnan recommended the most talented candidate for the position, Wudang simply bestowed it upon a direct disciple of the Sect Leader.
“Thanks to having a good master, I was given the undeserved role of leading the Heo generation.”
“You took on the position of Head Disciple without really wanting it. Isn’t that difficult?”
“It is difficult. How easy can it be to lead junior brothers who have just learned martial arts and are full of youthful vigor?”
Even as he spoke of hardship, a smile never left Heogong’s lips.
“But there is equal reward. As the eldest brother of my juniors, I receive their trust.”
Heogong felt the weight of being Head Disciple, yet he took even greater pride in the fact that he was one.
“Daoist Heogong is an impressive person.”
“Please do not praise this humble Taoist so highly.”
“You do not fear the expectations placed on you by many people. That alone makes you impressive enough.”
“I am grateful for your kind view. But this humble Taoist does not think of it that way. Things simply flowed, and I arrived here of their own accord.”
Heogong smiled gently and continued.
“I cannot know what weighs on my Dao Friend’s mind, but I suspect it has something to do with the position of Head Disciple.”
“…”
Unable to deny it, Cheonhwa answered with silence. From that reaction Heogong roughly guessed the boy’s situation. In all likelihood the youth before him stood closest to the seat of Head Disciple—yet the position was probably not one he had sought of his own will. Otherwise he would never look so reluctant.
“It may not quite rise to the level of advice, but sometimes it is better not to strain after something and simply let matters flow as they will.”
“Let them flow as they will?”
When Cheonhwa looked puzzled, Heogong offered another question to make the idea easier to grasp.
“In my Dao Friend’s opinion, who is the strongest martial artist in a sect?”
“Hmm… the Sect Leader, I would think?”
“In the unorthodox sects that is usually true. But among the righteous schools, the Sect Leader need not necessarily be the strongest fighter in the sect.”
A Sect Leader was the one who guided the school; the duties of a leader and those of a martial artist did not always coincide. At times character or other abilities could take precedence over raw martial power. Which path was correct could only be known after the results appeared.
“So there is no need to feel burdened by a seat that has not yet come to you. If it is your destiny, it will draw near of its own accord; if it is not, no amount of striving will keep it from drifting away.”
“…”
Cheonhwa turned the koan Heogong had given him over in his mind. He still did not know whether he was a person suited to the place of Head Disciple. He had never stood above others, and he had never wished to. Above all, nothing had yet been decided.
Such worries could wait until after he was actually chosen.
Once he reached that conclusion, the anxiety in his heart seemed to clear like mist.
“Thank you, Daoist Heogong. Thanks to you my mind feels as clear as if a fog has lifted.”
“I am glad I could be of help.”
Those who walked the same path called one another Dao Friend; those who had walked farther ahead were called Daoist Senior. The young Taoist had listened to the boy’s troubles, and the boy had received an answer from the young Taoist. For that alone the exchange could already be called a success.
Yet the exchanges of the Righteous Path Journey were not limited to conversation. An exchange as martial artists still awaited them.
Though the chill of winter had not yet fully retreated and a cold wind still blew, the training grounds were filled with a heat that made one forget the weather entirely—the heat of anticipation and excitement rising from all those who had gathered to watch the sparring matches between the seven Wudang Taoists and Zhongnan’s second-generation disciples.
The Righteous Path Journey was a place of exchange, and no exchange between martial artists could omit sparring. Properly speaking, third-generation disciples of matching generation should have stepped forward, yet the gap in skill between full formal disciples and mere entry-level disciples was still far too great. That would have made the event nothing more than a one-sided lesson bestowed by Wudang upon Zhongnan. Thus, under the name of instructional sparring, matches against the second-generation disciples were held first.
Cheonhwa watched as a simple spectator.
The expressions of the Wudang seniors have changed.
Their gentle, soft features had hardened into the resolute faces of true martial artists. One look was enough to know they had stepped onto the platform as fighters.
The first match was between Heogong and Inwol. One was the guest who had given him advice; the other was the instructor to whom he usually owed a great deal. Cheonhwa could not decide which side to cheer for.
“I am Heogong of the Wudang Sect. I have cultivated the Taiji Heart Method and the Taiji Sword Art.”
“I am Inwol of the Zhongnan Sect. I have trained in the Vast Heaven Qi Art and the White Steel Sword Art.”
Those who had mounted the platform each named the arts they would use—essentially declaring the techniques for the match. A person of broad knowledge might have recognized the styles from the names alone, but Cheonhwa’s experience was still shallow, so he asked Myeonghwa, who was watching beside him.
“Senior Brother Myeonghwa, what do the martial arts of Wudang feel like?”
“If I had to sum up Wudang’s arts in a single phrase, it would be ‘softness overcomes hardness.’”
Softness overcomes hardness.
That was the essence of the soft-sword arts practiced by the Wudang Sect.
“You’ll understand faster if you just watch.”
Almost before Myeonghwa finished speaking, the match began.
Given the first move, Heogong closed the distance as if flying and thrust his wooden sword forward. The motion almost seemed designed to invite a block. Instead of parrying, Inwol chose to retreat and evade—yet he did more than simply dodge. While stepping backward he was already preparing his counterattack.
Boom!
A heavy shock-foot stamped the ground as he withdrew, the deep sound rolling across the platform. It was the Diamond Leap Step, the footwork that paired with the Vast Heaven Qi Art. The powerful jin force generated by the stomp was converted into sword force, and the fierce true qi of the Vast Heaven Qi Art followed. Along the arc of the wooden sword that swung with the retreating step, a single stream of wind shot forth.
That’s… sword wind?!
Cheonhwa could not hide his astonishment at the technique that was the very emblem of a first-class martial artist—something he had known only from books.
What followed, however, went beyond surprise and into sheer shock.
Even with the sword wind flying straight at him, Heogong showed no panic. Instead he simply extended the tip of his sword toward the blast. The instant the sword wind met the wooden blade—
Crack!
The trajectory of the wind twisted and left a scar across the floor of the training grounds.
“What just happened?”
Someone’s muttered question spoke for every entry-level disciple watching. They understood that Heogong had redirected the sword wind, yet they had no idea how he had managed it.
While the novices stood dumbfounded, the match continued. Inwol kept launching sword winds as if testing something; Heogong continued to neutralize every one that came.
Cheonhwa focused intently on Heogong’s movements. At the moment each sword wind touched the blade, there was motion not in the tip of the sword but in the lower body.
It looks as if he isn’t moving at all, but that’s not true. Starting from the lower body, his entire frame is shifting in tiny increments.
The motion was simply so still and natural that it was nearly impossible to notice. The Wudang Taoist was constantly moving in order to receive the sword wind.
There’s no doubt. He’s receiving and redirecting the attacks with Neutralizing Jin.
Neutralizing Jin stood at the opposite pole from Jin Release. Where Jin Release meant projecting refined force outward, Neutralizing Jin meant receiving that refined force and dissolving it. Like a reed that sways with the wind, it could soften the impact of an opponent’s attack; like a boat carried by a river current, it could also redirect force or collapse the opponent’s center of balance.
Heogong was applying the principle to interfere with the sword wind and twist its path. Easy to say, yet the feat of neutralizing formless sword wind was astonishing.
One small mistake and he would be caught in the blast. To redirect it with Neutralizing Jin without the slightest disorder…
While Cheonhwa marveled inwardly, Inwol suddenly changed his approach. After launching only sword winds from a distance, he abruptly closed the gap. At the same time the qi wave coating his wooden sword swelled violently for an instant. Seeing it, Cheonhwa belatedly understood Inwol’s true intent.
The sword winds weren’t mere harassment. He was gauging his opponent’s level while accumulating Stored Jin.
Then Inwol’s sword stroke crashed down toward Heogong’s wooden blade like a bolt of lightning. A thunderous roar shook the air as force whipped through the space. The aftershock reached even beyond the platform; anyone would have expected the opponent to be driven backward by the pressure.
Yet contrary to every expectation, Heogong remained standing exactly where he was—as if he alone had stepped outside the influence of that force.
Having failed in his decisive assault, Inwol hastily tried to open distance again, but Heogong stuck to him and mercilessly disrupted his center. The movements were still and the power behind them faint, yet Inwol was swept away like a man caught in a raging current. Heogong seized the opening without hesitation and laid the tip of his sword against Inwol’s throat.
By any measure it was a clear defeat for Inwol.
Uncle-Master Inwol’s plan itself wasn’t wrong.
He had gauged the level of his opponent’s Neutralizing Jin, avoided close exchange that might let him be drawn in, and waited until he could drive forward with the Stored Jin he had built using footwork and heart method suited to a hard sword style. It had been an excellent strategy. The only problem was that the opponent’s Neutralizing Jin was refined enough to dissolve even that stored force.
So this is the sword art of Wudang, said to contend for the title of greatest under heaven.
The matches that followed offered just as much to learn. Soft sword against soft sword, the two blades locked as each fighter tried to collapse the other’s center, looked almost like a dance. Some pressed so fiercely with speed that Neutralizing Jin could not keep up; others used heavy swords to reverse the flow of soft techniques and snatch victory.
After the first match, most of the victories went to the Zhongnan side rather than Wudang—the difference of a full decade of experience. The only one who overcame that gap and claimed an easy victory was Heogong alone.
With the seventh match the sparring against the second-generation disciples came to an end. For the entry-level disciples, however, everything was only just beginning.
“From this moment we will begin the friendly sparring matches!”
The chance to cross swords with the guests from Wudang had finally arrived.