Taoist Arts (1)

24. Taoist Arts (1)

"Senior Sister. You said that only you and Master are training the Yin Blossom Art, correct?"

"Yes. The first-stage formula was passed on to the junior sisters too, but only I, as chief disciple, was permitted to train the second stage."

Jeong-hyang, nestled in my arms, playfully pressed my chest. I didn't know what Master was thinking, but at least one thing was a relief. It meant Son Yeong or Lee Eun-ha wouldn't be coming to my room after Jeong-hyang. As it was, the common sense about marriageable age here was worlds apart from my past life. Girls the age of elementary schoolers in my past life made perfectly fine brides in this world, so the day someone like Cho-ryeong came knocking, Yang Blossom Art or not, Yeongsan Sect or not, I'd want to pack my bags right then and head back to Baek Clan Estate.

Even so, no matter how far Yeongsan Sect had fallen, and no matter that the Yin-Yang Art was the only thing Master had left to cling to, a master who traded cunnilingus with her disciple while practicing sexual techniques was a freak among freaks. She was incomprehensible by the standards of both this world and my past life. Under her influence, Jeong-hyang displayed none of the ideas about chastity expected of women in this era and seemed to regard these ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠secret quasi-sexual acts as nothing more than pleasurable training.

According to Master's account, Jeong-hyang's beauty had shone since she was a child, but after losing her parents to a plague, she became the target of countless men. Fortunately, the village she lived in was so small that rumors of her never spread far, and she was taken in—almost seized—by the village chief's household. Then, several years ago, the head disciple before her—a senior brother who had recently dropped dead—paid a large sum and brought her to the Yeongsan Sect. From the moment Jeong-hyang entered the sect until now, all outings beyond its grounds had been forbidden to her.

In a way, it was a natural measure. If word ever spread of her beauty, which grew more radiant with each passing year, a place like the Yeongsan Sect would be crushed in an instant. Jeong-hyang had spent most of her life here. Perhaps because of that, Jeong-hyang was an exceedingly pure person.

As the sun rose, she slipped out of the bedding with a hint of reluctance, dressed herself properly, and left the room. I dressed as well and headed to the dining hall for breakfast. Master and Jeong-hyang. Oral sex that I'd been subjected to almost one-sidedly. Any man who claimed to dislike it would have to be a homosexual or a eunuch, but still—if the genders had been reversed, this would have been a horrific sexual crime. After all, the master and head disciple had come into the youngest disciple's room and forced quasi-sexual acts upon him.

Well, since the genders would never be reversed, none of that mattered anyway. The problem was the Yin-Yang Art. Having personally experienced the effects of the Yang Blossom Art, which I'd naturally dismissed as a cultish fraud, I could no longer ignore that bizarre thing called Taoist arts. That morning, I went into the archive, set aside the Tao Te Ching I'd been halfway through, and picked out the book of Taoist studies that seemed the most absurd.

This had to be the most absurd one. The Spirit-Binding Art. A Taoist art for commanding ghosts. When I turned the first page, the author's rambling account filled it. The man who wrote this book was none other than our Yeongsan Sect's founder, Reverend Hwangseong. A disciple of the Maoshan Sect, even after the Blood Sect Rebellion ended and everyone scrambled to transfer to the great sects, he remained captivated by his order's Taoist arts for destroying jiangshi. So, rather than transferring to a great sect for the sake of Taoist research, he chose to found his own sect. If jiangshi could be controlled, then surely there must exist Taoist arts capable of controlling spirits as well.

Thinking that way, he researched the Spirit-Binding Art ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠until the day he died. A researcher by nature, he completely neglected the newly founded sect's administration, leaving Yeongsan Sect a fifth-rate sect.

What an asshole. He was the root of all evil behind Yeongsan Sect's decline. If he had no martial arts to leave behind, he should have opened a Daoist temple instead of founding a martial sect. I supposed even a man like him coveted the title of first-generation Sect Leader. In any case, the culmination of his research was the book on Spirit-Binding Art before me. Its first stage was the Spirit-Summoning Art, a technique for summoning spirits with lingering attachments to the world and communicating with them.

The second stage, the Soul-Ascension Art. Its original function was a typical Taoist art for sending lingering spirits up to heaven, but its purpose within the Spirit-Binding Art was somewhat different. A Taoist art for controlling and commanding ghosts, intimidating souls that refused to obey with the threat of being sent up to heaven. Since spirits are spirits precisely because they have lingering attachments, it would be an effective means of coercion against that type of soul.

The third stage. The Spirit Vessel Art. A technique for placing a ghost's soul into an object so that it moves on its own. And the last, the Spirit Possession Art. A technique for receiving a ghost into one's body and wielding the ghost's power.

No matter that this was a world with bedchamber arts and jiangshi, this was truly absurd. I'd thought it before as well, but if this were really possible, one could summon the soul of a past peerless master to learn supreme martial arts, or even possess one's own body with it and wield that power directly. If this technique had been viable, no martial artist would ever train by swinging a sword. They'd simply learn Taoist arts and be done with it.

Unlike the neat handwriting in the opening sections, the latter half of the Spirit-Binding Art grew increasingly violent and nearly illegible. Reverend Hwangseong had ultimately failed to make the Spirit-Binding Art usable. He had completed the system itself, but until the moment of his death he never discovered how to obtain the Divine Power required to use it.

Hmm... I'd let myself hope a little, but reality had once again asserted itself in an unexpected place. It was a wasted effort either way, yet that afternoon I shut myself in the archive again and searched for a usable Taoist manual. As expected, there were no fantastic arts besides the Spirit-Binding Art. Books about locating water veins had existed even in my previous life, so those were nothing special. Most were merely complicated but mundane Taoist texts describing ritual procedures. Come to think of it, the Yin-Yang Art had been found not in the archive but in a hidden chamber of the Great Clarity Palace. The manuals left in the archive had probably already been examined by all those dead bastards, so there seemed to be nothing useful. Just as I was about to close the book, leave, and exercise, the Spirit-Binding Art I'd read that morning suddenly stopped me.

Divine power.

Reverend Hwangseong had given up, claiming there was no way to obtain the power called Divine Power. He must have cultivated internal energy himself, so he would have known it was something different, and as a master of Taoist arts, he had surely tried every other method he knew to acquire it. Yet he never succeeded. The scrawled handwriting in the latter half of the Spirit-Binding Art plainly revealed his despair and anguish.

Divine power exists. However, it does not exist in this world.

The final line he left behind stopped me. Could this, perhaps...?

I opened to the first stage of the Spirit-Binding Art, where the Spirit-Summoning Art was recorded as a peculiar incantation, and slowly read it aloud. Like reciting an invocation at a funeral, I simply spoke the meaningless words one by one. Something moved. A strange energy I had never felt before was born not in my dantian but in my heart. Instinctively, I knew what it was. Divine Power. Another name for that strange force was the magic power the demon had granted me in my past life.

In the empty air of the archive, a bluish mass slowly gathered and began to take human shape. A short old man with a long beard, clad in a splendid Taoist robe unlike my own, slowly took form. The old ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man, who had been drifting as if swimming through the void, eventually looked toward me and his face filled with astonishment.

—Di... Divine power! Divine power, of all things!—

I didn't know how to use voice transmission, but I had once received voice transmission from a Murong Clan master. Though looking at martial arts scientifically was a foolish thing to do, I had arbitrarily concluded back then that voice transmission was a highly directional sound wave. But the words resonated not in the ears but in the mind, with a different feel from voice transmission. Would Shaolin's legendary martial art, the Wisdom-Light Mind Speech, feel something like this?

—Uh... How can such a thing be! How can a human being with a physical body wield divine power!—

The old man's scream-like cries continued. It seemed the Spirit-Summoning Art had been a success.

—Old man. Are you perhaps Reverend Hwangseong?—

—Who are you? State your name, you who used Divine Power to cast the Spirit-Summoning Art I created!—

Had he been loud when he was alive too? The old man's booming cry reverberated in my chest.

—I am Baek Eun-hyeok. I don't know if I should call it a voice, but it's noisy, so please lower it a little.—

—You... Are you a disciple of the Yeongsan Sect?—

—Yes. I entered last month.—

—I am Hwangseong, founder of Yeongsan Sect. How dare ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you keep your head held high before the founder of your own sect? Pay your respects at once!—

—The hell. What courtesy. Look here. Old man.—

—O... Old man?—

—You must have spent plenty of time playing at being a Taoist yourself. You drove off all sorts of ghosts, didn't you? Those ghosts would have lived before your time. Did you show every one of them proper courtesy, old man? Instead of shouting, 'Ghost, begone!' did you exorcise them by saying, 'Honored elder ghost, please be so kind as to leave'?—

—What? What did you say?!—

Even without a body, the sight of him trembling in midair was extremely entertaining. What a pathetic old bastard. What was he going to do even if he got angry? The spirit's present appearance was probably how he had looked in life. Judging by his hunched back and diminutive stature, he couldn't have been much of a martial artist. Even in the Maoshan Sect, which had possessed almost no martial learning just like the present Yeongsan Sect, the old man had probably spent his life being ignored. Taoist or not, weak men were naturally looked down on.

I could practically see the reason he had founded the Yeongsan Sect. Even though Taoists were nothing special in Taoist martial sects, the Yeongsan Sect had always maintained an absurd level of deference toward Taoists. He had gathered a motley bunch and wanted to be treated with respect there—as a Taoist, as a martial artist, and as a founding ancestor.

—You were the founder when you were alive. Once you're dead, you're just a stray spirit. Do you still expect to be treated with honor even in death?—

—Y-you outrageous wretch! You dare insult the founder of your own sect?—

I felt sorry for the trembling ghost of the old man who couldn't contain his rage, but I was now a Taoist. A Taoist bowing to a ghost was something that could never be.

—You sure do love being the founder. The hell. If you were going to make it like this, why found a sect at all and make your disciples suffer? You should have just settled into some Taoist temple. Did you borrow the Maoshan Sect's name to found the Yeongsan Sect and then want to be treated as the revered founder? If that was the case, you could've at least managed the sect properly.

Honestly, you could have managed it, couldn't you? Your fellow disciples went to Mount Hua and Wudang. If you'd swallowed your pride and asked them, at least the Three Talents Sword wouldn't have become Yeongsan Sect's signature martial art. Do you have any idea how hard your descendants are living now? If you wanted to be revered as the founder, you should have left them something.

Ah, right. While we're on the subject, let me ask you one thing. Do you happen to have any martial arts tucked away, or maybe an elixir or something?—

The old man, who had been ranting, fell utterly silent at my words as if struck dumb. It seemed he knew it himself. Just how much of the worst possible founder he had been. Seeing the old man grow somber, unable to offer a single word of rebuttal, did improve my mood a little. What was the point of taking out my anger on a man already dead?

—I vented some irritation in a fit of temper. Seeing as you appear to have failed at immortal ascension, I'll at least perform the Soul-Ascension Art for you, so don't stay bound to this world—just ascend to heaven.—

—W... Wait! Just a moment!—

—Why? Have you remembered some martial art?—

—Ah... Ascension is still premature!—

—Then when do you plan to go? You know, don't you, old man? You're an earthbound spirit, bound right here in this little archive. For someone who lived as a Taoist, even if you couldn't become an immortal, you shouldn't become a stray spirit.—

—A lingering regret, still unfulfilled, remains. Just a little, just a little longer, I beg you.—

The old man's spirit spoke urgently. He was already dead, yet he still hated the thought of disappearing. His plea overlapped with my own image from my past life, begging before my extinction for those memories to remain in my next life. I could understand some of the lingering spirit's attachment.