The Palm King of Carefree Pavilion

"Who are you?"

He asked it plainly, without ceremony.

It was him — the same man Jin Myeong had seen that morning at the Imperial Stables. Meeting him face to face left no room for doubt. This was a far greater master than he had guessed.

To send a sound transmission from outside a hall into a specific person standing within it… that was no ordinary feat. Only those who had gone mad for martial arts ever touched such a skill, and even among them, only a vanishing few ever truly achieved it. At the very least, this man stood at the Peak Realm - Late Stage.

That he could feel the qi of a space sealed off from his own, and still send a transmission across it, was proof enough that he could Strike the Ox Across the Mountain. His command of internal energy had already slipped the leash of ordinary sight. Which meant the eunuch standing in front of him might well be a master of the Transcendent Realm.

And if he was Transcendent Realm — he was no eunuch at all.

Peak Realm Late Stage or Transcendent Realm, it made no difference. As Jin Myeong was now, this was not a man he could withstand. Damn it all. Yi Gwak's interrogation should have fallen on this one, not on him.

"This humble servant—! No. You don't appear to be of our kind, so I'll address you by the customs of the jianghu. That question is one I ought to be asking. This official is Zhang Jin Myeong, currently serving in the Great Ming's Directorate of Ceremonial. And you are?"

He knew neither this man's identity nor why he had been summoned. He had to ask — whether a courteous answer would be forthcoming was another matter entirely.

In this era, among the eunuchs who had cultivated martial arts, there was exactly one who practiced something other than the counterfeit Sunflower Manual. That man kept his arts alive by force, leaning on spiritual elixirs — but that was beside the point. Jin Myeong knew perfectly well who that one man was, and the master before him was not him. That man was sailing the open ocean even now. He was not in this country.

"That's my line. Just how swollen has your liver gotten, that you'd walk into the palace hiding martial arts of that caliber? Let me have a look."

Yi Gwak's face flickered through Jin Myeong's mind.

Hiding? I didn't hide a thing. Nobody asked. If nobody asks, why would I go volunteering it?

Damn eunuchs and the ones who weren't eunuchs alike — not a single logical human being among them.

That aside, he recognized the movement art the man unfurled at a glance.

"The Cloud-Ascending Step! A snub-nosed Daoist from Wudang Mountain!"

The Cloud-Ascending Step was a superior body technique of the Wudang Sect. It could not deceive his eyes — not after twenty-nine years in the Eastern Depot. That fluid leap, that drifting carriage of the body, as if the man were climbing a ladder laid across empty air: it was the Cloud-Ascending Step, without question.

The snub-nosed Daoist's figure, which had soared up the night sky on a current of soft wind, came crashing down toward him. Slow as drifting silk, and yet the distance vanished in a blink. Through the air he displaced, the Daoist thrust his right hand, index finger raised.

The posture of an immortal lifting a hand to point the way. The first form of the Three Calamities Sword Art: The Immortal Points the Way.

The Immortal Points the Way? Does this Daoist take me for some third-rate street thug? At least he's not here to kill me — that's something.

The intent behind the strike was obvious: he was testing him. Fine. Let's see, then.

A whisper of displaced air.

Jin Myeong stepped through the principle of the Sunflower Water Form and slipped off the line of the incoming finger. The Immortal Points the Way stabbed nothing but an afterimage, and came up empty.

"Astonishing! But speed is not everything."

A short cry of wonder escaped the Daoist. Of course he was surprised. In sheer swiftness, the Sunflower Water Form had no rival. Even its simplest movements approached the speed of Form-Shifting Position Change — a technique you only began to glimpse at the Transcendent Realm. Master the Cloud-Ascending Step or Cloud-Chasing Star-Plucking to their limits, and you still would not match the Sunflower Water Form for raw velocity.

The moment The Immortal Points the Way came to nothing, the finger that had pierced the afterimage split into seven stars of white light and poured toward Jin Myeong's entire body. He knew that technique on sight as well.

"Seven Stars!"

"A boy not even twenty, and you name it at once. And I am unfolding it with the hand, not the sword. Your eye is not bad."

A hiss of cutting air, then another, then a flurry.

The snub-nosed Daoist's hands did not chase him. Speed would never catch him, so the man did not try. Instead he occupied the directions around Jin Myeong one by one, closing a net.

"How could I fail to recognize an art that is the very name of the Southern Venerable Wudang? Reveal yourself, True One!"

"I may tell ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you — if you can take it. How long do you intend to do nothing but dodge, child?"

"Very well, True One!"

We don't take that kind of talk sitting down. Fine. I'll meet you.

A man still whole, slipping into the ranks of their kind and playing at being one of them. If this snub-nosed Daoist was not genuinely mad, there was no explaining it. A man who had it, pretending he did not — to the brotherhood, that was an insult beyond even cursing someone's parents. If the eunuchs ever learned of it, they would piss themselves and charge him as one, down to the last man, ready to die together.

A heavy thud.

Jin Myeong, who had been appearing and vanishing from one instant and one space to the next, drove both legs into the earth. Then he gathered his Isin True Qi into both palms. White luminous energy beaded across his hands and swelled into spheres. Against the Seven Stars Sword, the answering art was the Bright Sky Hand.

A shattering crack. Then another.

In a span too brief to name, the dozens of spheres born of the Bright Sky Hand slammed into the snub-nosed Daoist's Seven Star sword-qi, and the night erupted with concussive force. The orbs crashed through the forty-nine stars the Daoist had woven by repeating his form seven times — and even after the stars were destroyed, the spheres held their shape and drove straight at him.

"Protective qi! You little—! This old man used sword-qi!"

The Daoist roared as he understood what was still coming for him: the spheres that had smashed his Seven Star sword-qi were gangqi — true protective energy, solid as a blade.

"You meant to test this humble servant's skill anyway, did you not? If you'd meant to kill me, you would have done it already. Am I wrong?"

Jin Myeong had begun to grasp, faintly, who this man was. Even as the forms unfolded, that question occupied his mind: why would a Wudang Daoist enter the palace and disguise himself as a eunuch? Turning the matter over, an old secret of the imperial palace surfaced all at once.

"Good. Today this old Daoist will teach you that there is a sky beyond the sky."

"True One! Wait—!"

He had been about to say that he more or less knew who the man was. The snub-nosed Daoist's hand, which had held only a raised index finger, opened wide, and the center of that flat palm took aim at Jin Myeong's heart.

This was a scene he had heard of more than once.

A low, gathering hum.

The air around them began to surge as if it were being sucked into the Daoist's palm.

This insane—! Who does this snub-nosed Daoist think he's trying to catch?!

And then — a hiss of unfolding silk.

Jin Myeong poured every last thread of his internal energy into both palms, with the desperation of a man who knew ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he might die. He had been too close. It was already too late to evade.

A ripping shriek.

Right in front of his face, the ten widths of silk split apart as if the night itself were being torn. The white brocade and his twin palms collided with savage force.

A thunderous blast. Another. A third.

"Kh—hurk!"

He was driven back a full three zhang before he could stop, and the blood that surged up his throat spilled from his mouth. The shock of exploding gangqi had struck his meridians; he had taken a light internal wound. If the mad Daoist had used his full strength, Jin Myeong would have been reduced to powder. Damn that snub-nosed priest.

"Hah—! Hah—! That damned Ten-Step Brocade. Using the Ten-Step Brocade on a junior of the later generation. Has your conscience gone out for a stroll?"

He spat the blood still pooled in his mouth along with the words. That last technique was, by any measure, a peerless palm art of the realm — one of the two supreme treasures in which Wudang took pride, alongside the Taigeukhye. The finest under heaven: the Ten-Step Brocade.

"Magnificent! At your age, how many in the jianghu could have blocked this old Daoist's Soft Palm? That unnatural speed of yours is a problem, but the hand technique is not heretical — it is fierce and true. And your true qi is the very image of our sect's Yin-Yang Wuji. Who are you?"

Who are you? That was Jin Myeong's line. And it needed saying at once: Patriarch Dongfang Guihua was some three hundred years the senior of Wudang's Patriarch Zhang Sanfeng. If anyone resembled anyone, it was Yin-Yang Wuji that had taken after the Sunflower Dual Body.

A short while later.

"There's a hall hidden in the ninefold depths of the palace, and in it five divine masters who guard His Majesty the Emperor. Isn't that so?"

"How do you know of that?"

Daoist Hyundo started. The existence of the Carefree Pavilion was a secret even within the imperial palace. Only three of the imperial house knew of it — the Emperor, the Empress, and the Crown Prince — along with the Seal-Holding Grand Eunuch of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Directorate of Ceremonial, the Brush-Holding Grand Eunuch, and the Rank Two Military Commissioner who served as both commander of the Brocade Guard and head of the Imperial Bodyguard. The sect leaders of the five Carefree Pavilion masters' own schools knew as well, of course. But a young eunuch knowing a secret of that order was enough to stun him.

"It isn't that great a secret, True One. Anyway — am I right? If you don't answer, I intend to spread word to every corner of the realm that there's a fake eunuch in the Directorate of Palace Attendants who uses the Ten-Step Brocade."

"Insolent whelp. This old Daoist is Hyundo of the Carefree Pavilion."

"The Palm King! Daoist Hyundo!"

This time it was Jin Myeong who was stunned. Who was Palm King Hyundo? Forgotten now, perhaps — but he was a Transcendent Realm master produced by Wudang, a champion of the orthodox path. A man who had once contended for the title of First Under Heaven.

"This old Daoist has been in the Carefree Pavilion some seventeen years, and you look about that age yourself. Your learning of the world outstrips that paltry martial art of yours."

Having given his name, Hyundo snorted a laugh and tossed the rebuke at him. But Jin Myeong was not a man to be outdone in that particular arena. That was Hyundo's mistake.

"No wonder I caught a whiff of stale fasting-pill somewhere."

"You—!"

"What's so unspeakable about it? I coughed up blood because a Daoist came charging out of nowhere in the middle of the night. Is a Daoist allowed to beat an innocent official half to death like this? If you've got a Purple Empyrean Pill, give me one."

"The brat's got nerve, I'll grant him that. I know now you are no heretic of the demonic path, and that is enough. How you came to be a eunuch I neither know nor care. We will meet again in the light of day. I have no interest in you — but your martial art has woken this old Daoist's curiosity."

"True One!"

Having said his piece, Hyundo unfurled the Cloud-Ascending Step and vanished into the night sky. The speed he had shown in their bout had been play. Now he receded in a genuine instant, gone as if he had never been there.

"That snub-nosed Daoist, I swear. I had a few things I wanted to ask."

Left alone, Jin Myeong clicked his tongue in disappointment, then turned his steps toward his quarters.

Meanwhile, Hyundo raced at his leisure above the palace roofs, lost in a reverie of his own.

"Interesting. How interesting."

He and the other masters of the Carefree Pavilion guarded the Yongle Emperor and no one else. Who Jin Myeong was did not concern them. So long as the Yongle Emperor remained whole, the shape of politics, the power struggles between the imperial house and its officials — all of it lay outside their interest. That was the pact they had sworn from the beginning.

Jin Myeong's skill was rare, even remarkable, but not enough to threaten the Yongle Emperor. And since the boy was no heretic of the demonic path, Hyundo felt no need to restrain him.

"To break through the Ten-Step Brocade and come in… was this old Daoist's concession too generous?"

The aftermath of colliding with Jin Myeong's twin palms still lingered in both of Hyundo's hands. In the right, which had poured out the Ten-Step Brocade, a distinct numbness remained. Had he put more internal energy behind it, the result would have been different — but even this much was astonishing. He had used perhaps three-tenths of his power, and still the boy had shattered Wudang's foremost Ten-Step Brocade like so much dust.

"Insolent whelp. The Directorate of Ceremonial, was it? All the better. This old Daoist will put him to proper use."

A thought rose unbidden, and Hyundo smiled the smile of a man who had found his piece. He had considered summoning the boy to the Imperial Stables again tomorrow, then changed his mind.

The next morning.

They were on the road to the Directorate of Ceremonial.

"It's different, after all."

Walking, he turned over the bout with Daoist Hyundo. The Transcendent Realm truly was another thing. Hyundo had even raised a qi barrier to cut off sound while they crossed hands. Thanks to that, neither the trainee eunuchs nor a single soul in the palace had any idea the two of them had fought.

"Hm? What's different, hyungnim?"

Jeong Go asked, catching the mutter that had slipped out.

"Nothing. Never mind."

"Yes."

Daoist Hyundo had not pressed him with questions. He had tested the martial art once, decided, in so many words, You! You're not a bad eunuch! — and gone on his way. It was almost insulting.

The confidence of the Transcendent Realm? I was tense for nothing.

They said the masters of the Carefree Pavilion took no interest in anything but the Emperor's person. It was true. The eunuchs of their brotherhood had their share of prickly temperaments — but the great masters were no easier. Why a man who was martial uncle to Wudang's current headmaster would play at being a eunuch of the Imperial Stables was beyond him. If you meant to guard the Emperor, you belonged in the Directorate of Ceremonial. Or disguise yourself among the Brocade Guard. They did whatever they damn well pleased.

Pleased. That's an indecent word to use of the brotherhood.

In any case, he intended to meet Daoist Hyundo again before long. He would ask whether the man knew anything of extreme-yin materials, and see what else might be pried loose. Even if all he managed was a measure of familiarity, there would be a use for it later. Hyundo was the Palm King, after all — martial uncle to the present headmaster of Wudang.

"Hyungnim, today's the Directorate of Imperial Kitchens, isn't it?"

"It is. Learn the cook's work well. It comes in handy more often than you'd think. You'll have use for it later, so watch closely."

"Yes, hyungnim. I'll keep that in mind."

Watching Jeong Go answer, another thought surfaced. He wondered whether he might ask if the boy's dantian could be repaired. Even among Transcendent Realm masters, their Great Mother could not do it — but Wudang might. Wudang's martial learning pursued the harmony of yin and yang at a relatively high level. That was why, among Daoist sects, Wudang Mountain had so many women. And their strange arts and elixir-craft stood at the very peak.

He was still turning over how best to make use of Daoist Hyundo when they arrived at the Directorate of Ceremonial.

A short while later.

"We were told it was the Directorate of Imperial Kitchens today, Gonggong."

"It was changed at the last moment. This official does not know the reason either. Be that as it may — know it, and attend faithfully to today's duty."

What waited for them was the news that their assignment had been switched. According to Yun Bong, even Elder Gonggong Yi Gwak did not know why. Those two were in charge of the trainee eunuchs' education, which made it all the stranger.

Who, then?

As if the heat were not already killing them, they were being packed off to the Directorate of Palace Attendants, of all places. Go stand in the blazing sun and watch eunuchs dig ditches. Wonderful.

"Yes, Gonggong!"

Whatever the case, Jin Myeong and Jeong Go gave their assent and left the Directorate of Ceremonial. That neither the Elder Gonggong nor Yun Bong knew of it left a bad taste. It was the first time anything like this had happened.

What day is it, that they'd specifically send us to the Directorate of Palace Attendants…? Don't tell me some distinguished guest is coming.

He had a feeling it was going to become a nuisance. Still — if it came to that, he could always kill a little time at Yuwol Pavilion and come back. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It had been a while since he'd seen the family's faces.