Heavy Water (2)
Cheonhwa reflexively turned toward the voice.
There stood a figure he had not expected at all.
"Great-Uncle Jinhyun?"
Jinhyun, a first-generation disciple. The sudden appearance of the Taoist who always remained in Jangseogak left Cheonhwa nothing short of bewildered.
Wearing a gentle smile meant to soothe the boy, the Taoist explained the situation.
"This humble one is charged with managing this place. When a reaction suddenly registered, I came to see what was amiss."
"And found me here, then."
"Indeed. How did you come to this place?"
"Well…"
Cheonhwa recounted, step by step, how he had discovered the cave.
"You were searching for a place to train, sensed something out of place, dug into it, and ended up here?"
"Yes, sir."
"Haha. This, too, must be fate."
Jinhyun stroked his beard and continued.
"This is a training ground created by the Founding Ancestor himself—a secret realm known only to successive sect leaders and an extremely select few within the sect. To find such a place by nothing more than a sense of incongruity… you have done well."
"Thank you for the praise. But is it truly all right for me to have entered a place like this without permission?"
"It is fine. Few seek it out these days, and the Founding Ancestor left word that any who discovered it on their own were permitted entry."
At Jinhyun’s answer, Cheonhwa felt a quiet relief settle in his chest.
"Then the way I kept wandering and losing the path until I arrived here… was that a measure to protect this place?"
"That is the natural formation that has taken root here."
In the murim, formations meant two things, broadly speaking.
One was a technique that used terrain and objects to affect a wide area.
The other was a type of cooperative art performed by those who had learned martial arts of the same lineage.
What Cheonhwa had experienced belonged to the former.
"This place is the heart of a natural formation, but the Founding Ancestor arranged it so that it could be used as a training ground."
Cheonhwa thought of the cave passages. The traces of care taken to damage the cavern as little as possible. No doubt the result of efforts to leave the natural formation unharmed.
"I never imagined Zhongnan Mountain held a place like this."
"Mountains that house Taoist sects or temples—Zhongnan Mountain among them—are what people call spirit mountains, places rich in the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. And when that energy gathers in one spot, extraordinary things often occur."
Spirit beasts or spirit herbs might be born; materials of special nature might form. This training ground could be counted among such marvels.
"The heart of this training ground is none other than that water. One enters it to train."
"Train… inside the water?"
"A hundred hearings are not worth a single sighting. Better to see once than hear a hundred times."
Jinhyun led Cheonhwa closer to the water.
It was utterly transparent, revealing everything within. A steeply sloping passage lay below, and stone steps even seemed to invite them downward.
"Put your hand in the water."
At Jinhyun’s word, Cheonhwa carefully slipped his hand beneath the surface.
There was none of water’s usual resistance; his hand simply sank straight down. More than that, he felt a weight as if a boulder had been set upon it.
Startled, he withdrew his hand to check that it was unharmed—and somehow not a single drop of moisture clung to his skin.
"Great-Uncle Jinhyun, what in the world…?"
"That is the nature of Heavy Water."
Heavy Water.
Unlike ordinary water, objects did not float upon it but sank; and when it touched a living being, it exerted tremendous pressure. The training ground had been built here precisely because of those properties.
As he listened to Jinhyun’s explanation, one question rose in Cheonhwa’s mind.
"Why is there no moisture on my hand even after I put it in the water?"
"It is not only that it does not wet you. You can breathe perfectly well while submerged."
"How is that possible?"
"That is connected to a secret hidden deep within the training ground."
The Heavy Water training ground was divided into five levels in all. The reasons one did not get wet and could still breathe while submerged were concealed within the fifth level. The very maintenance of the training ground was bound up with that secret as well, Jinhyun added.
"Those are the words the Founding Ancestor left when he created this place. Yet from the founding of the sect until now, no one has ever uncovered that secret."
Jinhyun gestured for him to follow and stepped down the stone stairs into the water. Cheonhwa carefully descended after him.
The moment the Heavy Water touched his body, he felt again the weight he had sensed before. Drawing on the fully internalized Nine Palaces Footwork, he moved step by step under the pressure until he was fully submerged.
He held his breath by reflex—until Jinhyun, waiting a few steps below, spoke.
"You need not hold your breath."
It was not sound transmission through internal energy. He spoke as ordinarily as he would above the surface—something impossible if breathing were not possible.
Trusting Jinhyun, Cheonhwa released the breath he had been holding and tried to breathe. Not only could he respire as freely as on dry land, he confirmed that even the breathing of internal cultivation was possible.
"It really works…"
"A wondrous experience, is it not? I was quite startled myself the first time."
Jinhyun continued down the stone steps, and Cheonhwa followed. Before long they reached the bottom of the stairs, where a broad, level space opened out.
"Great-Uncle Jinhyun, is this…?"
"Yes. The first-level training ground."
The Heavy Water training ground was structured so that the pressure doubled with every level descended. Reaching the fifth and final level meant enduring pressure sixteen times that of the first.
The immense load pressing in from every direction felt as if he were shouldering a colossal boulder. It was a burden greater than even the tenth-stage training apparatus; simply withstanding it counted as outer-body training.
"If I train here, I should be able to master the Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art far more quickly, shouldn’t I?"
"That is precisely the purpose for which this place was made. The difficulty is that finding one’s way here rests entirely upon one’s own ability."
Cheonhwa grasped the meaning behind Jinhyun’s words. The Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art was practiced mainly during the introductory disciple stage; anyone capable of piercing the formation and discovering the training ground was far more likely to already be cultivating some other mind method. Cheonhwa, who had found this place without yet learning another art, was the unusual case.
"Is it truly all right for me to train here?"
"Of course. Discovering this place was the fruit of your own effort; it is your rightful claim. This is a rule acknowledged by the Founding Ancestor himself. Accept it with peace of mind."
"Thank you."
"But finding the entrance will be inconvenient, so I shall give you a gift."
Jinhyun drew a book from his robes and handed it over. On the cover was written the title Six Harmony Sensory Path.
"Great-Uncle Jinhyun, this is a martial arts manual. May I truly accept it so freely?"
"It is fine. This is not a secret art exclusive to our main mountain; it is a technique this humble one newly created to give to you. It is still incomplete, but it will be more than sufficient for laying a foundation."
"For me…?"
Cheonhwa looked down at the manual. This was the first time he had ever received a gift given purely as a gift, and a warm tightness rose in his chest.
"Thank you!"
"I am glad it pleases you. Once you learn that art, coming and going from this place will become far easier."
At Cheonhwa’s thanks, Jinhyun smiled with quiet satisfaction. Ever since Cheonhwa’s entry into the Zhongnan Sect, it had weighed on him that he had been unable to offer any proper help. To be able to give genuine aid at last felt deeply fulfilling.
"Ahem, ahem."
"Is something the matter?"
"Ah—I have just remembered other business. I must take my leave."
"Please take care on your way back."
Cheonhwa saw the departing Jinhyun off. From the haste in his steps, whatever business it was must have been rather urgent.
Left alone in the training ground, Cheonhwa began his training. It was nothing more than bare-body conditioning, yet the effect surpassed even the tenth-stage apparatus.
Even without any training equipment, training here alone should be more than enough.
The old saying of Sai Weng’s horse came to mind. Having lost the use of the training apparatus, he had found a training ground superior to it. He had never imagined that what he had thought a misfortune would lead to good fortune.
From now on it will be better to request permission for free training and practice here.
There were already more than enough people competing for the training equipment. Better for everyone if he trained here rather than taking up a place among them.
Since I am focusing solely on the foundational arts, getting free training approved should not be especially difficult.
Including the effects of the special Qi Building Pills, he had expected it would take a little over a year to reach the fourth stage of the art. But if he continued training in the Heavy Water training ground…
I might reach the fourth stage within half a year.
Cheonhwa refined the plan in his mind and drove himself harder into training.
Without missing a single day, Cheonhwa visited the Heavy Water training ground and poured himself into conditioning.
Obtaining permission for free training was not particularly difficult, though Inwol eyed him with the clear expectation that he might have found some new training method. Cheonhwa deflected by saying he was climbing cliffs with sandbags of the four seasons hung about him.
The reason he concealed the Heavy Water training ground was the rule he had heard from Jinhyun. The right to use it belonged solely to those who found it on their own; one was not to speak of it carelessly, and one was to guard it strictly.
Fortunately his excuse was accepted, and he was never pressed further.
The real problem lay elsewhere—namely, with the sect brothers who had once belonged to the opposition faction and had since turned into his supporters.
Perhaps because of the growth they had experienced over five months of continuous round-robin sparring, they flooded Cheonhwa with requests for instructional matches.
"I want a turn too!"
"This humble one wishes to as well!"
"I can’t be left out of something this fun!"
Riding that current, even other sect siblings such as Yeonhwa and Yeobhwa began applying for spars. The pure volume of sparring requests alone could have filled an entire month’s schedule to the brim.
Cheonhwa, of course, and the second-generation disciples who would have to serve as referees, all looked troubled. He and Muwol even put their heads together over how to handle it.
"What should we do about this?"
"If it were up to me, I would simply reject every last sparring request."
"If we do that, they will almost certainly protest as a group."
And the number was not one or two; it amounted to roughly half the introductory disciples. If that many raised a disturbance, it would become difficult to settle at the second-generation level. In the worst case, it might escalate beyond the first-generation disciples to the elders themselves.
While searching for some sharp solution, Cheonhwa hit upon an idea.
"What if we gather them all in one place to make management easier, and have them spar among themselves?"
"Explain in detail."
"What the supporters and most of the others want is to gain experience and improve through sparring, is it not?"
Then there was no need for Cheonhwa to face them one by one; they could simply spar with each other.
"Every five or ten days we hold a small-scale tournament in a single-elimination format. And the final winner is granted the chance to spar against whoever they wish."
"From the perspective of those who have to referee, handling everything in one batch would certainly be more convenient. I will put the proposal forward."
Having secured the elders’ approval, the second-generation disciples announced that individual spars would be banned outright; in their place, single-elimination tournaments would be held periodically, and the final victor would be given the opportunity for a private spar against the opponent of their choice.
Introductory disciples flocked to apply for the tournaments, and Cheonhwa and the second-generation disciples could finally breathe a little easier.
Because a full tournament schedule could not be completed in a single day, they processed one round every five days. Around the one-month mark they held the finals and the winner’s individual spar. The following month was set aside as a rest period to prepare for the next tournament. Thus the second-generation disciples fell into a two-month cycle of single-elimination tournaments—and only belatedly realized one fact.
Aren’t we essentially running promotion-exam-scale events every two months?
The realization came late, but the introductory disciples’ enthusiasm was far too fierce for them to stop now. In the end they had no choice but to continue the tournaments as a desperate measure.
And so six months passed.
The second-generation disciples gathered for a meeting. Reports of the results achieved through six months of single-elimination tournaments followed one after another.
"Every introductory disciple has completed entry into the second stage of the Balanced Heaven Qi Accumulation Art."
"Nearly half of the introductory disciples have reached the fifth star of the second stage."
"Those who have reached great mastery of the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven now exceed one-tenth of the total."
Report after report of growth. Every one of them was an outstanding achievement.
It was clearly something to celebrate—yet the second-generation disciples could not rejoice purely.
"The atmosphere at the tournaments lately has grown far too heated."
"Agreed. At this rate it would not be strange for the competition to overheat and breed grudges."
"Recently even the head of the Medicine Hall lodged a complaint. She said far too many people have been coming in injured from sparring."
The single-elimination tournaments had undeniably advanced the introductory disciples. At some point, however, the spars had ceased to be merely for growth.
And that was not the only problem.
"Roughly how many participants are registered for this tournament?"
"About half the total."
Gowol answered Muwol’s question. The second-generation disciples gave wry smiles at how many had applied.
"We did set the requirement for tournament registration as having learned the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven, correct?"
"We did."
"Then half the total means every single person who has learned the sword art applied?"
"It appears so."
"Can we handle that many?"
"If we mobilize all available hands as we do for the promotion exams and run it in a single day, I believe it is possible."
"Then it can no longer be called small-scale."
Muwol dragged one hand down his face once and spoke.
"We have no choice but to admit it. We miscalculated the passion of the introductory disciples."
How had it come to this?
The influence of Cheonhwa, who had steadily poured effort into his training? The conflict between Cheonhwa and the opposition faction? Or perhaps the goodwill sparring with the Wudang Sect?
It was not any single issue, but the cumulative upward spiral of many processes stacked one upon another. It had long since exceeded what the second-generation disciples could manage.
"What if we redirect the introductory disciples’ attention elsewhere?"
At Inwol’s suggestion, Muwol motioned with his chin for him to speak.
"Nearly half the introductory disciples have now learned the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven. Using that as justification, we teach them a new martial art."
"A martial art suitable to teach when many have already learned the sword art… you don’t mean—?"
"Yes. Exactly as you suspect."
Inwol nodded and spoke the answer aloud.
"We teach the introductory disciples the Sword Heart."