20. Daoist (4)
Daoist (4)
20. Daoist (4)
When Son Yeong first copied the Snow-White Sword, she made mistakes in five movements. On her second attempt, she had minor errors in two movements, but by the third repetition, she was already executing the Snow-White Sword flawlessly. With my stronger muscles and internal energy, my execution was obviously far more powerful than hers, but I was witnessing a fragment of her talent right here. She poured overwhelming concentration into every single stance—as if grinding her very soul into each technique. So this was what true talent looked like.
Unlike me, who had swung my sword half-heartedly, after just four rounds of sword practice she collapsed to the floor, completely exhausted and panting heavily. And then, for a moment, Son Yeong regulated her breathing through qi circulation and breath regulation. I was no transcendent master, and I could never determine what internal art someone was using through breath regulation alone, but the internal art she was using now was plainly obvious even to me.
The Taiji Art. The Three Talents Sword of the internal-energy world. A breathing method solely for health—if you trained diligently for three years, you accumulated one year's worth of internal energy. An internal art like a free sample corner at a market, taught to the common people for free every month by the Wudang Sect daoists if you lived near Mount Wudang. Son Yeong finished one microcosmic orbit, rose from her spot, and began gripping her sword again.
"Senior Sister, I have a question. Didn't you also learn the Yang Blossom Art and Yin Blossom Art? Why are you performing qi circulation with the Taiji Art?"
Could our sect's supposed signature internal art truly be inferior even to the Taiji Art? Master had been so proud of it.
"You heard from the Master. What we trained in was the Yin Blossom Art. Junior Brother, you will be training in the Yang Blossom Art from now on."
Son Yeong spoke, stopping her sword.
"To be honest, the Yang Blossom Art and Yin Blossom Art were left by an ancestral master and happened to be discovered by Master beneath the floor of the Great Clarity Palace after the Bloody Calamity. They are our sect's signature internal arts, but... they don't seem to suit me."
"They don't suit you, Senior Sister?"
"Yes. How should I put it... When I circulate the internal art, my body gets hot and itchy, I suppose? A strange feeling comes over me, so I train in the Taiji Art instead."
Wasn't that dangerous? It sounded like the classic initial stages of qi deviation.
"They are also terribly difficult to learn. I don't know all the details, but Junior Sister Lee, Junior Sister Cho, and I have barely reached the First Stage. Even Master and Senior Sister Jeong are still only at the Second Stage."
Huh? That couldn't be right. The advantage of low-level martial arts like the Snow-White Sword, the Three Talents Sword, or the Taiji Art was supposed to be rapid attainment.
"Still, the Master wouldn't have transmitted it to you without any meaning, Junior Brother. With your Yang Blossom Art, it might just be a powerful internal art far superior to our Yin Blossom Art."
Could that really be? On the back of the daoist robe I was wearing right now, the yin-and-yang taiji symbol was drawn. Whatever that internal art was, yin and yang had to be symmetrical and identical. If they weren't, it could never be a Daoist martial art. In other words—if the Yin Blossom Art was garbage, then the Yang Blossom Art was garbage too. I was starting to feel uneasy, but once I met the Master tonight, I would finally learn its true nature. Truth be told, with internal energy as insignificant as ours, neither they nor I were at a level where even qi deviation was a real concern.
As the Master had instructed, I washed myself at the hot spring, sat on the bed in a proper posture, and waited for her. Just as I was growing slightly anxious from the persistent ominous feeling, the Master's voice finally came from outside the door.
"Disciple. May I come in?"
"Yes. Please come in."
When I opened the door, Master stood there holding a book. Just seeing her face reminded me of her naked body in the hot spring, and heat rushed to my cheeks. She placed the book on the table. The moon was still bright enough that the title Yang Blossom Art was clearly visible on its cover.
"As I said, this is our sect's signature internal art, the Yin-Yang Art. It is composed of two internal arts, the Yin Blossom Art and the Yang Blossom Art. Men can learn only the Yang Blossom Art, and women can learn only the Yin Blossom Art. I have learned the Yin Blossom Art as well, but due to the characteristics of this internal art, I need the help of the Yang Blossom Art for any further advancement. Union of yin and yang—that is the core principle of this martial art."
My unease grew steadily. Union of yin and yang—those words sounded all too familiar.
"Master."
"Yes. Disciple."
"I'm sorry, but this Yin-Yang Art—don't tell me..."
"Yes. That's correct. It is the Bedchamber Arts."
I had asked with my heart pounding, yet as always, Master sent my emotions hurtling into the depths of space.
"People commonly misunderstand them, but the Bedchamber Arts are not some unorthodox discipline born in pleasure houses or red-light districts. They are a recognized branch of Daoist study, originating with the ancient Queen Mother of the West..."
"W-Wait! Wait just a moment. Master. Why on earth must we learn the Bedchamber Arts?"
Master smiled brightly and innocently at the question.
"Why? Because we are Daoists who study the Way."
"No, there are plenty of other things to learn within Daoist studies besides that, aren't there?"
"Oh, Disciple, you only say that because you don't yet understand the effects of the Yin-Yang Art. Have you never found it strange that all our female disciples, even little Cho-ryeong, possess a mature allure?"
Ah... she had a point. Jeong-hyang was a peerless beauty, of course, but there was also our baby-faced, gentle Master; the thoroughly athletic Son Yeong; Lee Eun-ha, worn down by housework like a live-in maid; and even that little runt. Every one of them, though dressed in rags and thin from hunger, exuded an oddly bewitching sensuality. Was that the effect of the Yin Blossom Art? If I learned the Yang Blossom Art, would I begin radiating the male allure of a gigolo?
"At the First Stage of the Yin Blossom Art, you gain a seductive aura. At the Second Stage, your skin becomes smooth and wrinkles disappear."
The Master confidently touched her taut face and showed it to me. No, the Master was naturally baby-faced anyway, and Jeong-hyang was naturally a beauty, so wasn't her skin just innate too?
"Upon reaching the Third Stage, your entire body supposedly begins to emit fragrance. Is that not remarkable? They say that when Mount Hua's Plum Blossom Sword Art reaches its zenith, the scent of plum blossoms spreads through the air. Is our Yin-Yang Art not impressive as well?"
Ah... Mount Hua's so-called sword fragrance was the manifestation of a force as intense as the light of sword aura. I felt sorry for the Plum Blossom Sword Art itself, being compared with this kind of bedchamber technique.
"The Yang Blossom Art is a little different. At the First Stage, you gain a similar allure, but at the Second Stage your virility becomes tremendously powerful. Is that not magnificent? You are fortunate, Disciple. It is an internal art that enhances virility, something every man in the Central Plains desires."
Hahaha... Damn it. I hated myself, a premature ejaculator, for getting tempted by this nonsense.
"And you already possess a magnificent member, Disciple. If you master the Yang Blossom Art as well, you could become the greatest man under heaven where women are concerned."
Even under the dim moonlight, the Master's eyes sparkled. The greatest master under heaven—I had given up on that. But the greatest man under heaven when it came to women! I knew it was absurd, and yet feeling intrigued was the sad instinct of a man. So this was how everyone fell into cults.
"Starting today, memorize the oral formula and begin training. It is simple enough that even little Cho-ryeong learned it, so you should master it quickly. From this moment, however, I will place one prohibition upon you."
"A prohibition?"
"It is a natural prohibition for a Daoist. A man's sexual desire should naturally be released through a woman; resolving it alone is unnatural. From this moment... no, that would be too harsh. Beginning tomorrow, masturbation is forbidden. Eun-ha handles the laundry, and Jeong-hyang observes the state of your member every morning, so remember that you will not be able to lie."
"W-Wait a moment! Senior Sister Jeong observes it?!"
"She brings you water every morning, doesn't she? She sees it whether she wants to or not. Your member is especially large, after all."
Ah... I wanted to cry. No, I wanted to bolt out of here right now. I had only been secretly delighted that I could see a peerless beauty every morning, but all along, my morning erections had been observed by her and reported to the Master.
"While studying the Bedchamber Arts, I learned a great deal about men. I know how much a man suffers when forbidden to masturbate while surrounded by attractive female disciples. Once you reach the Second Stage, however, it will no longer trouble you. I will make an exception tonight, so you may masturbate as much as you please."
The Master spoke with a warm face. I would have preferred an internal art inferior to the Taiji Art—a complete piece of garbage.
"Men are vulnerable to visual stimulation, are they not? Tonight, you might even masturbate while imagining my naked body. A female master and a male disciple—perhaps that is more appealing than I expected."
"N-No! I won't do it! I said, I won't jerk off!!!"
Clearly it was the Master, not me, saying the embarrassing things, so why was I the one drowning in shame?
"Well, you are sincere by nature when it comes to the study of Daoism, are you not, Disciple? I will look forward to your progress. I shall visit your room every night to examine your attainment, so train diligently."
Having finally transmitted a treasured teaching to her disciple for the first time, Master left the room with an utterly satisfied expression, abandoning me in my humiliation.
Only then did I understand that a human being might truly die from shame alone. I had done something unforgivable to Gyeong Su-yeon. Karmic retribution. It wasn't a Daoist teaching, but no other phrase had ever described my present situation so perfectly.
When morning came, Jeong-hyang woke me and brought wash water. Once I finally understood where her gaze had been directed all along, another day steeped in humiliation began. I hated it, but this was Master's first command and first lesson, after all. I couldn't ignore it and remain in Yeongsan Sect. As difficult as it was to believe, I was also genuinely interested in the promised enhancement of virility. After breakfast, I entered the library, memorized the oral formula of the Yin-Yang Art, and cautiously began circulating qi.
Unlike ordinary martial arts, the circulation began at the perineum rather than the dantian and gathered in the testicles—an utterly nonsensical route by ordinary standards. Even after one microcosmic orbit, the energy produced was so faint that it seemed unlikely to conflict with the internal energy I had already cultivated through my family's art. Just as Master had promised, and as befitted such a garbage art, I learned the Yang Blossom Art almost instantly. I had no mirror and couldn't inspect my face, but I didn't seem any more attractive. My aptitude might have been poor, but I had trained in vastly superior internal arts. Compared with my family's method, the difference was like middle school and kindergarten.
The Yang Blossom Art's circulation was extraordinarily simple. I reached the Second Stage in less than half a day and still felt nothing. Powerful virility? The only way to test that now was to masturbate, but after Master had forbidden it yesterday, the idea of secretly jerking off in the library seemed unbearably pathetic. Reaching the Second Stage in half a day even with my dull aptitude cooled my head. Whatever ancestral master had left it behind, this was still Yeongsan Sect. It had to be little more than a fraudulent martial art. The allure and smooth skin Master had described were probably just the women's natural qualities.
In any case, I had done what Master ordered and could face her without shame. Pretending not to notice and humoring my innocent master's girlish fantasy was probably part of a disciple's duty.