The True Face of Wudang
By nature, for a proper duel to be established, matching one's opponent's caliber is essential.
It was a truth I could not fail to know, having just now brought down in a single strike Mudam — the genius who would one day stand at the vanguard of the Great Righteous-Demon War as the Azure Dragon Sovereign.
The reason Mudam had been shattered by a single blow was neither a lack in his training nor any deficiency in Wudang's martial learning. The right answer was simply that the caliber of the martial arts I had achieved stood so far above his as to admit no comparison.
Sword Emperor Mugeuk releasing his will meant that he had at last revealed a caliber in full flower — and so I had to draw out everything I possessed, without concealing so much as a single grain. Were I not to, then just as Mudam had collapsed before me in a single move, I too might crumble before the Sword Emperor in one.
Of course, with the gap in our rank so extreme, even if I crumbled helplessly before the Sword Emperor's will it could hardly be called a disgrace — but I did not wish for it. One might rightly call the feeling pride, yet it would be more correct to call it the commendable heart of a successor wishing to guard the honor of Grand Master Yakseon.
"I'll be coming at you properly as well."
Guuuung—
A force quite unlike my internal energy — so unprecedented that even calling it materialization outright would be difficult — stirred within me as well. It was the power whose mere edge I had grasped only upon reaching the Unification of the Five Dan Arts and Five Qi Returning to the Origin, now taking on substance and manifesting within me. I had experience wielding it at full power when I struck down the Eumhyeol Sinma, so it was right to see this will as more refined than it was then.
"Heh."
The Sword Emperor gave a hollow laugh. It was he who had told me to bring out everything I had — yet even he had not known that the height I had reached was this. In truth, my realm stood at a level for which "impossible, considering my years" would be the only fitting description.
It was a power I had achieved by crossing the fork between life and death, so I was entitled to take pride in it.
"Have you undergone some Youthful Reversion as well?"
"Don't be absurd."
Come to think of it, I had regressed — but that was a different thing from Youthful Reversion, so it was no lie.
"Block me at your ease. No matter what happens, you will not die."
Behind those words, which might at a glance seem irresponsible, the Sword Emperor's will came crashing down upon me.
Shshshsh—
What I had learned from Grand Master Pahwang and confirmed with my own body was that the image of one's will differs from person to person. Had not Grand Master Pahwang said that that singularity, that uniqueness, was the very essence of will? By nature, honing the martial arts begins with seeing one's opponent completely — and so my eye technique, answering the call of will, took in the Sword Emperor's will whole.
...Willow leaves?
The will welling up from the Sword Emperor and rushing toward me took the shape of flourishing willow leaves. I had witnessed many wills in my time, but Sword Emperor Mugeuk's alone carried an auspicious aura unlike any of them.
Huung—
I could hardly stand there admiring the view, so I poured my will into my Formless Sword and met it head-on. It was merely a swing — yet with will riding upon it, it could no longer be called merely a swing. The will I emitted was, rightly speaking, the severing of all things: a slash that would cut down even the soul.
But——
Shff—
The cut of my will — the cut I had been confident would sever all things — did not. The Sword Emperor's will did not resist the cut; it simply lowered its body. And that was not the end.
Shff-shff—
The Sword Emperor's will began to coil around my Formless Sword and the will it carried, like a vine. As though it had made my formless blade its own support, his will came hurtling toward me all the more fiercely.
"Hup!"
I hastily raised my body-protecting qi. As I had realized long ago, will in the shape of a rampart was precisely body-protecting qi. The moment it moved in concert with will, it became something of an entirely different order from the body-protecting qi of Creation Realm grandmasters who merely spewed out raw internal energy — something that deserved, precisely, to be called perfect protection. It might not yet reach the Rebounding Gang Qi the Heavenly Demon had once unfolded, which returned every shock upon the attacker, but it ought to be enough to neutralize most attacks.
Gagagak—!
But even that proved useless.
"...!"
Because every one of the countless leaves I had taken for willow leaves was, in truth, a sword. The fluttering things that had so clearly slipped past my slash bored sharply into my body-protecting qi, as though they had been a flexible soft sword all along.
Thud.
With thousands of blade-leaves binding my body-protecting qi and my body at once, the Sword Emperor at last set his steps toward me.
"An insight this old one reached only in his twilight years. One might call it the very extreme of overcoming the hard with the soft."
Only then could I know it for certain.
"Kgh."
Gagagak—
The Sword Emperor was, at this very moment, suppressing me. Victory in a contest may befall even equals, but it is established truth that complete suppression is difficult without standing a full step above. I could not afford to lose so hollowly as this.
"Hap!"
Huung—
In an instant I released my body-protecting qi, and in the same breath coated my sword in will to shake off the willow leaves once more. And——
"...I lost."
I had been defeated. It should be judged a defeat swept clean in a single stroke. My will could not push back the Sword Emperor's, and his will wound around the body I had left unprotected.
The wondrous part was that, just as the Sword Emperor had promised, the thousands of blade-leaves that had shredded even my body-protecting qi did no more than bind my body, leaving not a single wound.
"Your righteousness is firm, yet it bears no image."
The Sword Emperor, wearing a satisfied smile, left me nothing but those words, so hard to understand.
I had once spoken of what cannot be done, what cannot be seen, what cannot be felt. For that reason, I could not know what the onlookers had witnessed in our duel. Only this much was certain: everyone here had watched the Sword Emperor win in an overwhelming rout.
"..."
"..."
Even with the outcome decided, everyone in the arena remained silent. There had been no room for either praise for the victor or consolation for the defeated to slip in. If I had to guess, it was because even the spectacle put on by the defeated — by me — had walked a transcendent realm.
"That was enjoyable."
The youth of barely twenty, whom I had thought wore a mischievous expression, now stood there as a giant.
"I have gained a lesson."
The Sword Emperor's words — that he would grant me a lesson if I gave my all — had been no lie. Though I had lost helplessly, it had without question been a move that taught me greatly. If I chased down even the fragment of the enlightenment I had gained today, I could surely reach a higher realm. I knew that merely gazing up at the saying of Six Dan Arts Pacifying the World was not the right way. Only by diligently honing myself and reaching the six dan arts could I place even the Heavenly Demon beneath me and hold back the Great Righteous-Demon War.
But the Sword Emperor shook his head.
"This was not a lesson."
When I looked at him with a questioning face, he added:
"What just passed was merely a spar, was it not? We made an agreement, so I shall grant the lesson separately."
"...Pardon?"
"Do you dislike the idea?"
"How could I possibly dislike it?"
"Then that is settled."
I did not know his reason, but I could tell the Sword Emperor meant to give me a great deal. I knew that martial arts are, by nature, not to be taught to the unworthy, and that instruction across different sects rarely comes easily.
My thoughts could not continue.
"Before that — I took a liking to your valor and your righteous spirit, so I ought to give you an additional gift. No — not a gift. I should call it washing away my own fault."
For the Sword Emperor's body, leaving those cryptic words behind, had shot off through the empty air.
Thump.
The place the Sword Emperor arrived at was before Cheonam Jinin, who had been serving as referee.
"Cheonam."
"Yes, Martial Granduncle."
A Daoist past forty, gazing toward the mandate of heaven, bowed his head respectfully before a youth who looked barely twenty — yet the sight no longer seemed strange to anyone. It was because Sword Emperor Mugeuk had proven his greatness regardless of outward appearance. And when such a Mugeuk Jinin asked:
"Who was it that drew up the bracket?"
"Pardon?"
Cheonam Jinin asked back.
"The bracket. I have been watching in secret from the very beginning, you see — and something has come to puzzle me."
Then the young Daoist attending at Cheonam Jinin's side stepped forward.
"I drew it up."
Resolve had risen upon his face; the young Daoist had surely guessed in full why Mugeuk Jinin was asking.
"You — Jinsu, was it?"
"Yes, Grandmaster. Thank you for remembering me."
"You too are a child of Wudang. Of course I would."
Seeing a supreme master of the previous era know even the Daoist name of a disciple two generations his junior, one could gauge the affection Sword Emperor Mugeuk held for Wudang.
"You say that you, Jinsu, drew up the bracket?"
"That is so."
"Hmm."
Mugeuk Jinin deliberated for a moment.
"Jinsu, step back."
"Martial Uncle."
Pushing Jinsu Jinin back behind him, Cheonam Jinin stepped forward once more. Perhaps it was my imagination, but Cheonam Jinin, coming to the fore again, wore a different bearing than before. There stood a complete Daoist, every worldly affliction shed, his mind a clear mirror over still water. The stark new clarity of his eyes proved it. A Daoist's growth is said to come as sudden enlightenment — and for Cheonam Jinin, this may well have been that very moment.
The Daoist Cheonam met the eyes of his martial nephew Jinsu.
"I said I would take all of it upon myself, did I not?"
"...But—"
"Do not shame me any further."
"...I am sorry, Martial Uncle."
Jinsu Jinin seemed about to raise some protest, but upon seeing the firm set of Cheonam Jinin's expression, he shut his mouth and stepped back a pace. The steadfast Daoist, without letting go of his reverence for his martial granduncle, opened his mouth with dignity.
"Martial Granduncle, it was I, Cheonam, Master of the Martial Scripture Pavilion, who drew up the bracket."
"Yes. That is right."
Mugeuk Jinin nodded and asked:
"Cheonam."
"Yes."
"Was there the Dao in what you did?"
"...No."
"Then why did you do it?"
At the repeated question, Cheonam knelt.
"This disciple was steeped in worldly delusion and empty fame, and strayed from the Dao."
"So you knew."
"...I have only now come to realize it."
"That is enough."
Mugeuk Jinin continued.
"I will forgive you — but you must also earn the world's forgiveness. You should enter wall-facing meditation. How many years would be fitting?"
Wall-facing meditation. Self-cultivation, or punishment. Either name would fall short of the practice. Rather than merely atoning for one's crime beneath the disciplinary rod, it is a means to sit in one's own reflection, repent one's sin, and turn it into nourishment for growth — a method truly befitting a Daoist. Moreover, since the agony of wall-facing meditation was said to far surpass that of the rod, no one present had grounds for complaint.
Cheonam Jinin answered without hesitation.
"I will do three years."
Long ago, the Grand Master Bodhidharma of Shaolin left a legend enduring in the history of the gangho with his nine years facing the wall — three years was by no means a short time. It also meant that the weight of the sin Cheonam Jinin counted against himself was every bit that heavy.
"But harshness toward oneself is also not the Dao. One year will suffice."
"Thank you, Martial Granduncle."
"From this day forth, Cheonam shall enter seclusion. And Jinsu."
"Yes."
"Your crime of attempting to deceive your grandmaster could be called the betrayal of master and ancestors."
"I will accept my punishment gladly."
Jinsu Jinin knelt without hesitation.
"Yet I judge that there was the Dao in your conduct. Therefore your punishment shall be commuted: for one year, you shall fill Cheonam's post in his stead. See to it that everything is in perfect order when he returns."
"Yes, Grandmaster."
Just then, a Daoist stood before Mugeuk Jinin in a hurried burst of qinggong. It was Taecheong Jinin, the Sect Leader of Wudang, who had left his seat after delivering only the congratulatory address.
"Martial Uncle — what brings you out into the world?"
"Sect Leader."
"Yes, Martial Uncle."
"The Sect Leader's own fault is also great."
The old master's yardstick did not pass over even the Sect Leader of his own sect.
"...I have no face to show."
Strictly speaking, office ought to be hierarchy itself — but since rank is what stands above all else in every aspect of the Nine Sects, there was nothing unreasonable in Mugeuk's exercise of authority. Even so, Mugeuk was a Daoist who knew the proper measure.
"The hierarchy of a sect is a solemn law, so an old man retired to the back rooms cannot reprimand the Sect Leader. Still, I trust you will do better from here on. The name of Wudang is not so light a thing."
"I am sorry, Martial Uncle."
Mugeuk Jinin had disciplined Cheonam without mercy, yet he had not forgotten, there in a public setting, to shore up the authority of Sect Leader Taecheong Jinin. Judging it personally, this was truly the deep reserve of a great sect.
"The Sect Leader of the Great Wudang must not bow his head. Pay no mind to these old bones, and see to your duties."
"...Yes."
Having looked over Taecheong Jinin, Mugeuk Jinin turned his gaze to the martial artists ringing the training grounds. The supreme master of the previous era, who had not spared even the Sect Leader of Great Wudang his rebuke, did not offer the cupped-fist salute to the fellow martial artists of the gangho — he bowed his head.
"Wudang has shown itself wanting."
Though he put no force into his voice, it arrived whole at every ear present.
"I will offer an apology in my own name, so I ask the fellow martial artists of the gangho to look past this old man's failing just this once. That is my request."
Saying so, Mugeuk Jinin bowed his head again.
Rank, strength, standing. By whatever measure, Mugeuk was the foremost in this place — yet there was no hesitation in the way he bowed. In that figure, I saw the true face of the great sect Wudang.