Yin Stillness (3)
The wall of Peak was the end of winter and the beginning of spring.
Yet tearing it down was never a simple matter. The moment he set his hand upon that barrier, Cheonhwa understood it by instinct alone.
To cross it he would have to offer an answer that was entirely his own. Worse still, the wall never revealed what question it was waiting for.
Both the question and the answer must come from me alone.
Only then did he truly grasp why so few ever stepped from First-class into Peak. Being told, out of nowhere, to conduct a free exchange of question and answer was absurd enough. Even inventing a careless question and forcing an answer was impossible.
If the question and answer are not true, this wall will not even take a scratch.
A half-hearted attempt would rebound as a savage backlash—internal injury or, far worse, qi deviation. The number of chances a man received depended on the depth of the arts he had learned and the talent he was born with, yet every martial artist shared the same hard limit: the dialogue had to be completed within those finite opportunities.
And if the wall still stood when the last chance was spent?
He would fail to endure the rebound and die spitting blood from all seven orifices.
That was the merciful outcome. Some were seized by heart demons and went mad, rampaging until they were cut down. Countless First-class experts lingered at the final threshold for precisely this reason. Those of lesser talent, or those who practiced the unstable methods of the unorthodox paths, found a single failure fatal.
So where does that leave me?
Cheonhwa’s natural gift for martial arts was thoroughly ordinary. The orthodox arts of the Zhongnan Sect he had mastered, and the foundation he had built with blood and sweat, were not.
He turned and looked back along the road he had walked.
The instant he faced the wall, the mountain ranges that had represented autumn and winter vanished. In their place a vast taiji diagram spread across the floor, ringed by the Nine Palaces and Eight Gates that marked every direction. A shift in viewpoint had rewritten the landscape of his mindscape.
Gyunchon—the Balanced Heaven—was the sky of the center.
The center was the yellow of the five directional colors.
Yellow was the earth of the Five Elements.
Earth was the boundary of yin and yang.
Hocheon—the Vast Heaven—was the sky of the west.
The west was the white of the five colors.
White was the metal of the Five Elements.
Metal was the yang-within-yin.
Hyeoncheon—the Dark Heaven—was the sky of the north.
The north was the black of the five colors.
Black was the water of the Five Elements.
Water was the yin-within-yin.
He had stepped out from the boundary, completed both yang-within-yin and yin-within-yin, and forged them into a single harmony, a single balance. That was the completion of Yin Stillness.
Finished Yin Stillness was soft, continuous, and quiet; it could embrace anything. For Cheonhwa it meant chance after chance to challenge the wall.
Even the abilities I gained by perfecting each mind method exist for this dialogue.
With the power of detached observation won from perfecting the Hocheon-gigong, he would examine his own body. With the restorative power won from perfecting the Hyeoncheon-jingi, he would blunt the rebound of every failed answer. No matter how many times he failed, he could rise and try again—the stubborn creed of a man of ordinary talent who simply refused to stop until he succeeded.
Hand still resting on the wall, Cheonhwa sank into thought.
What question would he ask? What answer would he give?
Nothing came. Then, after a short while, understanding arrived.
It is not yet time.
By perfecting the Gyunchon Chukgi-gong, then the Hocheon-gigong, then the Hyeoncheon-jingi in turn and completing Yin Stillness, he had earned the right to stand before the wall of Peak. He still lacked the proper means to shatter it. And he already knew what that means must be.
The Cheonhasamsipyuk-geom.
He called up the mental image of the early-stage polarity. A longsword appeared in his hand—plain, unadorned, yet its keen edge left no doubt that it could fulfill a weapon’s true purpose.
To swing the sword is itself a question, and the result is itself an answer.
Where one placed the viewpoint would decide the form of both question and reply. Cheonhwa tested the wall with a single stroke. Naturally the barrier did not so much as tremble. An enormous rebound flung the sword from his grip; blood surged up his throat at once. The strike had been judged a full exchange of question and answer.
Early-stage polarity alone was never going to break the wall.
Yet the attempt had given him certainty.
To shatter it I must at least reach mid-stage polarity.
That meant first perfecting the mid-stage forms of the Thirty-Six Swords Under Heaven.
Once I return to the main mountain I will need a long stretch of quiet, focused training.
He already held the clue to polarity—the mid-stage formula he had grasped at the Geon-gon Gate in Baoji and reached in truth at the Dan Family Manor in Tianyang County. Completing it required understanding of the heavy sword, the rigid sword, and the blunt sword. Nothing would serve that training better than immersion in the Zhongnan Sect’s many sword arts. Another reason to hurry home to Mount Zhongnan had just been added to the list.
In a hidden cave near the summit of Mount Taebaek, three women waited for Cheonhwa’s qi circulation to end.
“It’s taking longer than I expected.”
“Probably because he perfected the Hyeoncheon-jingi.”
“He already perfected a second directional heaven art?”
Jeokhwa could not hide her shock at Yeonhwa’s reply. Cheonhwa had already completed one superior mind method; to finish a second so soon was an unnervingly rapid pace of growth.
“Even allowing for that, isn’t this still far too long?”
“For a First-class martial artist there is only one thing greater than perfecting a mind method.”
Seol Yerin offered a quiet conjecture.
“He may already be facing the wall of Peak.”
“Isn’t that going a little far?”
“Then what other reason would keep him from waking?”
“….”
When Seol Yerin pressed the point, Jeokhwa fell silent. It was common knowledge that even a talentless man could reach First-class if he poured in enough time and resources. Peak was another matter entirely—a realm that could be opened only by one’s own hands, without outside aid.
He has not even reached the age of weak-crown, yet he already stands before the wall of Peak.
In the long history of the martial world such cases could be counted on one hand. She had been told again and again that his talent was ordinary, yet his progress outstripped even Yeonhwa, the foremost genius among the third-generation disciples. Watching him grow without pause, one began to wonder whether “ordinary talent” was the right description at all.
While she watched him closely, Cheonhwa’s body suddenly shuddered. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth—blood vomited from internal injury. Something was clearly happening.
“So he has reached the wall after all. Stay alert, all of you. In the worst case he may fall into qi deviation and lash out without warning.”
At Seol Yerin’s warning, Jeokhwa and Yeonhwa fixed their eyes on Cheonhwa, ready to move at any moment. Fortunately he never ran wild. More than that, the pallor caused by the internal injury faded with startling speed. A short while later Cheonhwa opened his eyes. Finding three gazes locked upon him, he realized only then how deeply he had sunk into the trance.
“Forgive me for keeping you waiting.”
“That much is fine. Did you reach the wall?”
“You noticed. Yes—while perfecting the mind method I came face to face with the wall of Peak. I tested it once. As expected, it will not be easy.”
“Hah. For someone who just challenged the wall you look remarkably unharmed.”
“I owe that to the peculiar nature of the arts I practice.”
When Cheonhwa mentioned his sect’s martial methods, Seol Yerin did not pry further. To examine another’s arts without leave was a breach of courtesy—especially when the other party was a benefactor who had saved her life.
“What do you intend to do now?”
“We plan to return to our sect as we are. What of you, Young Palace Master?”
“This lady likewise intends to return to the palace.”
Having recovered the Ice Crystal, Seol Yerin had no reason to remain in the Central Plains.
“This experience has shown me my own shortcomings. I mean to devote myself to training within the palace for some time.”
“How coincidental. I had the same thought.”
“You have not yet turned twenty. What absurd ambition.”
Seol Yerin clicked her tongue at Cheonhwa’s earnest reply. Achievement of that level at that age would have justified pride, yet instead of pride he only sought further progress. It was a stance worth emulating.
Afterward the party prepared to descend Mount Taebaek. Seol Yerin recovered the thief’s corpse that had been hidden beneath the cave floor. The bodies of the Blood Wolf Iron Claws they buried nearby, digging through snow and earth.
“What shall we do about the Snow Moon Flower? The stem and roots are still here.”
“The flower bloomed only because the thief stole the Ice Crystal and hid here. Once the crystal is gone, the Snow Moon Flower will never grow again.”
Even the remaining stem was already withering now that the flower had been taken; the cold energy the Ice Crystal had drawn from outside had vanished with it.
Their business finished, the group left the cave and made their way down the mountain.
“If fate allows, we shall meet again.”
Seol Yerin parted from them at the foot of Mount Taebaek and set out at once for the north. The others turned their steps toward Xi’an.
Moving for several days with the Cloud-Treading Leisure Step, they at last reached the city. Perhaps because they had traveled all the way to the borders of Shaanxi and broadened their horizons, they felt anew just how flourishing Xi’an truly was.
“First let us stop at the Hyeonhwang Blacksmith.”
It was customary for Zhongnan disciples returning from a journey to call at the Hyeonhwang Blacksmith in Xi’an—both to have their weapons inspected and to renew acquaintance with the smiths. The moment they stepped inside, a wave of heat rolled over them and Vice-owner Gu Cheol-mun came forward to greet them.
“Welcome.”
One glance at their travel-worn clothes told him they had just returned from a long journey; he asked no questions and simply took their weapons for inspection. Yeonhwa’s and Jeokhwa’s Hyeonhwang swords showed nothing of concern. Cheonhwa’s Okgyeong was another matter.
“This… is serious.”
Gu Cheol-mun shook his head over the tattered wooden sword.
“The core is warped. Surface polishing will not save it. Frankly I am amazed it has not already broken.”
After a careful examination he pronounced the blade beyond recovery. A metal sword might have been melted down and recast, but a wooden sword carved from a single branch offered no such hope.
“Was the child of any help to you?”
“Yes. Without Okgyeong I would not be standing here now.”
It was Okgyeong that had let him endure the flames of the Yi-hwa Gate Master and survive the wager with Wol-ak.
“That is why I am not yet ready to let this fellow go.”
“You have a method?”
“I cannot say whether it will succeed, but I believe it is worth attempting.”
If he returned to the Sinking Heavy Water Tree that had first given the branch for Okgyeong, a way might yet open.
After leaving the blacksmith, Cheonhwa visited a cloth shop on separate business—to have a new long robe woven with thousand-year silkworm thread. He paid with the bounty money County Magistrate Kang Yu-seung of Nonghyeon had pressed upon him.
Their errands in Xi’an complete, the party set out for the main mountain. Passing beneath the mountain gate that bore the Zhongnan Sect’s name plaque, they stepped into the familiar grounds. The scenery that met their eyes was more than familiar; it was longed-for. Strength drained from their shoulders and the tension they had carried for months slowly loosened.
Why did a quiet warmth settle in a corner of the heart?
The answer came at once.
I have come to think of the main mountain as the home I return to.
Feeling anew that the Zhongnan Sect was a place he could always come back to, the disciples of Zhongnan, after months of travel, finally returned home.