So You're the One?
The sky was moving.
An unbelievable phenomenon unfolded before their eyes. The wisps of cloud that had drifted across the clear weather slowly faded away — but that alone was not what they meant when they spoke of the sky moving.
The heavens darkened. It was the hour when the sun hung at its zenith, and though every last cloud had vanished without a trace, the light could not reach the earth.
The sun was disappearing.
"A solar eclipse!"
"What in the..."
"A-an eclipse isn't supposed to come now."
"What kind of omen is this?!"
The Daoists cried out as one. These were men who cultivated the Dao every day of their lives, who spent their hours gazing up at the heavens. Most were well-versed in astronomy, skilled at reading the movements of the sky. A solar eclipse — the sun swallowed by the moon — was something they could predict, if not to the exact hour, then close enough.
Not today.
Every current of heavenly energy was reversing course. The sky itself was in motion. The Deputy Palace Master's face went deathly pale as he craned his neck back until it nearly snapped, staring at the heavens. However worldly and political a man he might be, at his core he was still a Daoist. He was not a man who could fail to recognize what that movement meant.
The brief mutter struck every ear with perfect clarity. The currents of heavenly energy were falling into alignment, as if they had been waiting for this very moment.
Sun Wukong laughed.
"I told you. I already settled it with them myself."
They had taken it for a throwaway joke. A cheap jab meant to needle them. But the sky was truly moving — who could say a word against him now?
They stared at Sun Wukong in stunned silence for a long while. Then he pointed at the sky.
"The heavenly signs you people talk about have lined up too. Open the rite."
The Daoists all nodded as if spellbound. They had witnessed the heavenly currents shift with their own two eyes. The Sun Wukong standing before them now was no mere human.
One who communed with the will of Heaven.
"One who has attained enlightenment!"
In the study of the Dao, the one who can reach Heaven is one who has awakened. In a single instant, one comprehends the Dao and becomes a person who is human, yet no longer merely human. That was the highest ideal the Daoist path pursued.
A being who had accomplished himself.
"A Self-Attained One...!"
A fire kindled in their eyes. Every Daoist parted to either side, opening a path as though Sun Wukong were making a royal procession.
But one man alone still blocked the way.
"This can't be... how could the heavens... how could the sky... the heavens that never once answered me no matter how I cried out my whole life, suddenly, suddenly..."
The way he muttered to himself was, in a certain light, almost pitiful. Sun Wukong felt no such sentiment. He just looked annoyed.
"Move. Geumgak here's going to preside."
The Deputy Palace Master bit down hard on his lip. He looked at Geumgak standing at Sun Wukong's side. The heavens themselves had opened. If they performed the rite here, they would surely commune with Heaven's will — and the seat of Palace Master of Yukhap Palace, a position he had once dreamed of, would be lost to him forever. That worldly greed left the Deputy Palace Master clinging to one last hope.
He rushed to stop them.
"B-but this isn't right."
"..."
"You can hold a rite, yes. But a rite to Taesangnogun is no simple affair. The cost is enormous. It would drain the Wudang Sect's coffers dry."
"Ah, you needn't worry about that, Deputy Palace Master."
Geumgak answered in his place.
"Teacher Sun will cover everything from his own purse. Not a single coin of the Wudang Sect's wealth will be spent. Yukhap Palace need only preside and provide the dance and music."
"...He'll bear the entire cost himself?"
The Deputy Palace Master's mouth fell open.
Taesangnogun was the highest deity in the Daoist pantheon. A rite offered to him would never be done halfway. Specialty goods from every corner of the Central Plains would be laid upon the altar, and the cost of gathering them all on Mt. Wudang alone was staggering. What's more, the Wudang Sect was a Daoist order and a Murim sect both. Its coffers were relatively lean, and even those were strained just providing spiritual elixirs, pills, and weapons for its martial artists. A proper rite had always been difficult to hold.
And now Sun Wukong was paying for all of it himself. Even a man of considerable wealth would struggle to do such a thing.
"Teacher Sun was that rich...?"
"Could it be the Namgung Clan's backing?"
"I heard even the Namgung Clan isn't doing particularly well."
"Heavens..."
"But even with the money, gathering that many ritual offerings would take time."
"We've been prepping since the day we arrived at the Wudang Sect. No problem there."
Sun Wukong gave the Deputy Palace Master's shoulder a light shove. A man who had never learned a scrap of martial arts, the Deputy Palace Master could only stumble aside.
Another figure slipped into view behind him.
"Haha. I'd always wanted to spend a fortune holding a rite at the Wudang Sect for the prosperity of the Chuhyeon Merchant Guild. And now here we are."
It was Chu Jahon, the young master of the Chuhyeon Merchant Guild. Sun Wukong smirked at him.
"Anyway, thanks. Looks like we're all set thanks to you."
"I already gave you a blank check. What problem could there be?"
"Still, hunting down goods from every corner of the Central Plains couldn't have been easy."
"Hard as it was, adversity is always opportunity."
Perhaps it was from spending time in a Daoist order. Chu Jahon tossed out a philosophical line, and Sun Wukong cackled.
After helping Chu Jahon some time ago, Sun Wukong had received what amounted to a blank check — and he had used it thoroughly.
Tsk. That old coot Taesangnogun. For a supposed immortal, the geezer sure is greedy.
What kind of rite cost a fortune just to hold? If he hadn't had a connection to the Chuhyeon Merchant Guild, just preparing the ceremony would have taken ages.
Well, this too is the current of fate, the pull of karmic ties.
Sun Wukong felt no particular burden. It was less that he owed a favor and more that they had used each other.
It's repayment for the help I gave him before, and this fellow's business sense isn't half bad either.
Sun Wukong's assessment was correct. Chu Jahon was no pushover. To procure specialty goods from every region of the Central Plains, the guild had no choice but to expand again and again. They opened new trade routes across the land — and that wasn't all. They had come directly to the Wudang Sect and contributed to a grand rite.
Providing ritual offerings to Mt. Wudang. This is the chance to open major trade with the Wudang Sect.
Chu Jahon's eyes gleamed. Until now, the Wudang Sect had always prepared its own ritual offerings, usually by using their affiliated secular sects. Opening a direct trade relationship like this was a major achievement for the Chuhyeon Merchant Guild. The material profit would likely be modest, of course.
But a foothold toward an important connection with the Wudang Sect? That's no small thing.
Chu Jahon's face brightened.
"Teacher Sun, preparations are nearly complete. Please come inside. I'm truly sorry, but Young Master Chu..."
"Ah, I've followed along in far too much of a rush. I pray you accomplish your purpose and commune with Heaven."
Chu Jahon smiled and quietly withdrew. He watched Sun Wukong's back as the man entered the ritual hall.
I was right to invest in that man.
Chu Jahon made up his mind.
If our guild keeps supporting him, someday we might have the greatest under heaven as our backing, no?
He knew little of martial arts, of martial artists, of the Murim. But one thing he knew for certain.
The one they call the greatest under heaven in the Murim... it might just be that man.
Chu Jahon's eyes shone bright.
Outside was a clamor. Music rang out without pause, bells chimed, and the Daoists' chanting voices wove together — and yet the Daoist scriptures being recited carried a strangely uncanny air. The ceremony unfolding outside was a kind of rite.
Heaven never looks down upon what lies below with any ease. Just as a human does not look down no matter how the ants crane their necks to look up.
"But if the ants gather and dance together and sing and pile up offerings of food, even a human would bend down to look, if only out of curiosity."
Geumgak had it right. Sun Wukong nodded.
"Well, yeah. I didn't look down below the clouds much either, unless I had a reason."
"Pardon?"
"Nah. Still, that Taesangnogun fellow is pretty cheap. He ought to look after his own kids a little. He was human once, after all."
"Pardon?"
"You'll understand once the rite is over. Just keep going."
"A-all right."
Geumgak presided over the rite with a dubious expression. Originally, many renowned Daoists should have been present as well, but Sun Wukong had stopped them. Only Geumgak was to be here.
Truth be told, Geumgak himself had no idea if this would even work.
But the heavens opened.
The heavenly currents had reversed.
Something is happening.
A deep thrill swelled in his chest as he gazed at the painting set before him. It was a portrait of Taesangnogun, benevolent yet carrying a certain majesty.
The moment he recited the scriptures while looking at Taesangnogun in the painting—
Ziiing—
A thread of light unspooled from the center of the brow, reaching toward the portrait as if the mountain itself had drawn a breath.
"..."
The singing and instruments outside all fell silent at once, as if they had witnessed something and frozen in place. But Geumgak heard none of it. His eyes, stretched wide enough to tear, had rolled back to show only the whites. From the center of his forehead, a brilliant light radiated outward like a halo — and the light touched the portrait of Taesangnogun.
In that instant, Sun Wukong spoke.
"Hey, quit putting on airs and come on out already. What's with all the fuss?"
Geumgak did not answer. No — his ears could not hear Sun Wukong's voice in the first place. He had fallen into a state of complete self-forgetfulness.
The one Sun Wukong was speaking to was not Geumgak. He stared hard at the portrait of Taesangnogun, where the light was spreading.
"How about an answer already? Did you skip a meal or something? Why's your energy so weak?"
Sun Wukong tilted his head and approached the portrait.
"Hss. Even if the lower world and the celestial realm have been split apart, is it really this hard for Taesangnogun to manifest? Why's the energy so thin? We even held a rite to open the path."
The surroundings were silent, and nothing showed to the naked eye — but in the world beyond appearances, visible only through the Fiery Golden Eyes, a storm was raging.
The Yeongryeok contained within Mt. Wudang erupted all at once, as if the mountain itself had exploded. The swirling spiritual energy far surpassed even what Dangrang had displayed.
Even Sun Wukong, of all beings under heaven, could barely keep his feet in that storm. But he weathered the shock that carved through his entire body like blades without breaking a sweat.
Compared to the pain of the Golden Tightening Fillet, this is nothing.
Sun Wukong glared at the portrait.
"Come on out already. If you don't, I'll smash the whole thing with this iron staff."
Perhaps the threat worked.
A flash — and the closed eyes of Taesangnogun's portrait snapped open, as if it were a living creature. Clear eyes overflowing with radiance rolled about and settled on Sun Wukong.
Sun Wukong cocked his head to one side.
"What? You're not that old geezer Taesangnogun."
Sun Wukong frowned. For a moment, the pupils of the portrait gazing at him seemed to tremble. No — they were actually bouncing up and down.
"Spit it out before I rip those eyes out. Where'd the old man Taesangnogun go? Huh? I prepped this whole rite, you hear me? Since this morning? I even went through all that ritual nonsense with a bunch of guys who barely look like Daoists!"
Under Sun Wukong's savage threats, the portrait's mouth opened.
"I-it is a pleasure, T-Teacher Sun."
A trembling voice. A face that, somehow, looked extremely nervous at the sight of Sun Wukong. This was definitely not Taesangnogun.
Sun Wukong let out a sigh. He had a pretty good idea who this was.
"So you're the one?"
There had been no precise designation, but sometimes a conversation flows just fine without one. The portrait's face twisted into a bitter smile.
"This humble priest is called Jang Sambong."