Manhak Seogo (5)
“Taiji this, that.”
Srulk.
“Yin-yang whatever.”
Srulk.
“Two spirits blah blah.”
Only after reading through it about five times did he finally get a rough idea of what Yang-ui Simgong was all about... like hell he did. No, he was just brutally realizing one single fact.
“Samjae Geombeop was actually a pretty damn good martial art.”
Who knew making even a simple technique was this damn hard?
Sorry for looking down on you all this time, Samjae Geombeop.
Honestly, when he'd first entered the Manhak Seogo, he'd harbored a bit of hope that things might work out somehow. After all, he'd changed a lot since then.
Thud.
He tossed the Yang-ui Simgong manual carelessly to the floor.
If the Wudang folks saw that, they'd probably foam at the mouth and charge him.
Whatever. If it pissed them off that much, they could come complain to the Namgung Clan in person.
He was just venting on an innocent manual for no reason.
“Fuck! Did those Wudang bastards label this a martial arts text? Why the hell does a martial manual talk about the myriad phenomena of creation?”
It didn't feel like reading a martial arts manual at all—more like some Daoist scripture.
Nothing but incomprehensible crap.
The people who'd actually comprehended this stuff seemed downright amazing.
No wonder everyone made such a fuss about Wudang.
He realized it all over again.
Being a Daoist sect, they sure wrote it all in fancy, highfalutin terms.
“No surprise they went bankrupt acting all lofty and dignified all the time.”
He was spouting stuff that would make the bald monk next door freak out.
What if he heard? Eh, he'd probably just chant some sutras.
“Haa...”
With a sigh, he summarized the manual's contents.
“In the beginning, there was the small universe, a realm of chaos.”
He had no idea why learning a martial art required all this small universe nonsense, but to understand the manual, he had no choice but to accept it.
“Order emerged from that chaos, birthing the world of Wuji.”
After five full reads, he'd memorized the damn thing.
Sure showed how much smarter he'd gotten.
“It soon became Taiji. One took the energy of heaven to become yang, the other the energy of earth to become yin. This is called yangyi.”
“Alright! I get it up to here.”
Wudang's foundation was Taiji. He didn't know everything about their profound martial philosophy, but Wudang had once been one of the sects vying for the title of strongest under heaven. Anyone who lived by martial arts had to know the basics of Taiji.
There was more after that, but the conclusion was that Yang-ui Simgong involved splitting the energies of yang and yin—two opposing forces—and circulating one clockwise, the other counterclockwise.
However.
—Those who comprehend yangyi shall obtain the world.
“What a load of bullshit.”
He kicked the manual on the floor to one side.
He tidied up his spot and sat cross-legged.
“Alright. Let's give it a shot!”
Whether it killed him or fed him, first he had to try circulating the two energies separately.
Come to think of it, it had been ages since he'd last sat cross-legged like this. Until now, he'd gathered internal energy roughly with just Samjae Geombeop—no need for the full cross-legged meditation.
He'd wanted to try some fancy heart method for the flair of it, but the only one he knew was the Namgung Clan's most basic, Daecheong Simbeop.
Yang-ui Simgong was called a heart method, but it wasn't for building internal energy. It was more like a seasoning that added new flavor to an existing one—like enhancing a dish with multiple tastes.
Yang-ui Simgong simply overlaid another hue onto one's current heart method.
He gathered energy according to Daecheong Simbeop.
He moved the internal energy in his dantian, now roughly acorn-sized.
It felt bigger, flowing along his meridians and vessels.
But it was completely different from the Daecheong Simbeop he remembered.
'Was it always this fast?'
He hadn't run Daecheong Simbeop since regressing, but before, he'd practiced daily without fail. He knew exactly how it felt: a basic heart method, sluggishly crawling along the meridians.
Now, it was like sprinting down a wide, well-paved highway at full speed. He worried forcing it to stop might tear his meridians.
A full circuit finished in one breath.
'How long did a circuit take before regression?'
It used to take at least half a shichen... but this time, it was barely the time to scoop two spoonfuls of rice.
The heaven-sent Cheonmu Jiche.
The nurturing effects of Samjae Geombeop, crafted by the Three Talents Sword Emperor and endorsed by the Martial God.
The Great Return Pill Namgung Je-cheon had slipped him, disguised as a summoning pill.
Any one of those was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, let alone all three.
But his body had collapsed and reformed. The originally vast meridians had toughened and widened in the process.
The Great Return Pill naturally supplemented the energy needed for that expansion of meridians, vessels, and channels.
Sinui had called it the incarnation of foundations, or the perfection of jing (essence).
Jing literally meant refined rice grains in Hanja. In medicine, it was the root of life—the foundation all beings needed to be born. Simply put, it was the essence of reproduction in animals, plants, and humans.
For that, a healthy body was essential. The subsequent qi built on that healthy foundation.
Namgung Daeso's state was excessively so, which was the problem.
And Namgung Daeso was oblivious to it all.
Which made sense—this was his first proper ungijo-sik meditation since regressing.
Plus, even before regression, he'd never properly learned anything resembling martial arts.
Maybe that's why he'd dared attempt this insane stunt.
“Alright. Let's start by splitting it into yin and yang like the manual says.”
* * *
Bam!
The door to the 1st Gajujeon burst open as if kicked by someone.
“Hey!”
In the entire Namgung Clan, only one person would dare such madness.
“What?”
Namgung Hancheol replied indifferently.
“The clan's in an uproar right now! And you're just sitting there meditating like it's no big deal? You'll drive me nuts! Anyone'd think I was the patriarch.”
“Then you handle it.”
Yi Han recoiled.
“Are you crazy? How am I supposed to control all these monsters?”
“Then why are you making a fuss?”
Yi Han couldn't fathom Namgung Hancheol's calm.
“Want some liquor?”
“You think liquor goes down right now? You must know what's going on. It doesn't add up if you don't. Right?”
“I do.”
“Then why just sit there? The outside's chaos!”
Yi Han wasn't worried about the Namgung Clan itself.
If something happened to it, the world would shake. The peace upheld by the Namgung Clan might crumble.
When peace broke, the powerless suffered first.
Yi Han stood with the weak over the strong.
This could lead to countless deaths.
“Yi Han, calm down. This is Namgung.”
“I know, damn it! That's why I'm freaking out! What if...”
“And Namgung is me soon enough. How do I look to you?”
“Like you're sitting carefree in your room like a bum all day, meditating and pondering what to eat for breakfast tomorrow, without a worry in the world.”
Yi Han realized too late he'd gone too far in his anger.
'Should've skipped 'bum' and 'breakfast'!'
He hastily raised his protective energy.
Normally, a sword beam would fly by now.
But nothing happened.
“Exactly.”
'Has the bastard finally lost it?'
Lately, Yi Han had seen Namgung Hancheol smile more often.
“Don't worry. Namgung won't get a single scratch from something this trivial.”
Incomprehensible words, as usual for his style.
“Ah, whatever! Spill it already.”
Living in the Namgung Clan felt like it'd shaved years off his life.
Not from anything grand—just sheer frustration!
“You know why this is happening, don't you?”
Namgung Hancheol grinned.
'Smiling again.'
“Of course. I gave the order myself.”
“Knew it. Bring out the drinks.”
“Didn't you just say no?”
“You did it, right? Then you handled it fine. I'll listen over drinks. What? Problem?”
Namgung Hancheol spoke to the air.
“Bring liquor.”
A reply from nowhere.
“Yes, sir!”
Moments later, a light liquor table was set before Namgung Hancheol and Yi Han. Namgung Hancheol looked at Yi Han's dying-of-curiosity face and began.
* * *
Back inside the Manhak Seogo.
He'd tried everything possible.
Splitting his energy in half. Splitting those halves again.
Dividing it into yin and yang as the manual droned on about.
He'd figured it wouldn't work, but surprisingly, it succeeded easily.
For a moment, he'd wondered if he was a genius.
But nothing else happened after.
'Damn it. What now?'
If he knew what was wrong, he could fix it.
Everything succeeded, so he couldn't pinpoint the issue.
Worse, once he started circulating, the energy accelerated beyond his control.
'Whoa... it never acted up like this before. Why today?'
He'd assumed it would stop on its own during meditation.
It had before regression.
But the energy kept growing.
Thankfully, his expanded meridians and dantian could handle it for now.
The real problem was the yin and yang energies.
Tremble tremble.
His lower body shook nonstop.
His toes stung like frostbite, needles pricking—might as well chop them off.
Sweat sweat sweat.
His upper body poured sweat.
Heat rose to his head; was it cooking? What if he went bald?
His hair already felt scorched.
'Okay, stop. Baby! We didn't start like this. Sorry, bro.'
Rumble!
The energy rampaged angrier.
'Whoops! My baby hates older guys, huh? Sis then? Your type?'
Kaboom!
'Big bro! Forgive this fool for mistaking your gender! Your little bro humbly greets you.'
Swish swish!
'Little bro?'
Rustle rustle!
'Heh, you like it rough, slut.'
Rumble kaboom!
'S-sis! Why there? Th-that spot!'
Swish rustle!
Yeah, if talk could fix it, it wouldn't have escalated.
Now his ears rang, and the rising heat dulled his mind.
Maybe martial arts weren't for learning after all.
He should've stuck to his original plan.
'What the hell do you want?!'
Then a line from the Yang-ui Simgong popped up.
[Wuji becomes Taiji, Taiji births yangyi, yangyi births the four images, four images the five elements, five elements the eight trigrams, eight trigrams the sixty-four hexagrams. This is the origin of all myriad phenomena.]
'Yeah yeah, barking dog passing by.'
Woof woof!
Bullshit sounded profound if written fancy.
* * *
“Yi Han, as a martial artist, you know what Taiji is, right?”
Yi Han answered Namgung Hancheol's question.
“Isn't it what those Wudang pricks babble about nonstop?”
“Exactly. They act like they know it best without even understanding it.”
Namgung Hancheol downed his drink.
“Taiji's core is yin-yang harmony. You know that much?”
“I'm Sinui. Of course.”
“Even a fool like you knows that.”
Namgung Hancheol downed another, genuinely surprised.
Yi Han's face soured, but seeing the sincere ignorance, he downed his own in exasperation.
“Then you know this: Taiji's yang energy becomes heaven, yin becomes earth. Heaven and earth form, merge to birth all things, creating new orders like four images, five elements, eight trigrams, sixty-four hexagrams. Humanity harmonizes them.”
Sinui blinked blankly.
“No clue.”
Namgung Hancheol smirked triumphantly and drank.
* * *
He didn't know why the manual's end came to mind now, but this way, he'd die for sure.
Lower body felt like an ice block had settled in.
Upper body, like the sun blazed overhead.
'Screw it. All or nothing.'
Too cold below, too hot above—the obvious conclusion.
Warm the cold, cool the hot.
He released the meridians blocking the boundary between lower and upper body, his last defense.
'Either I'll steam, freeze, or just die!'
With the block gone, yin energy from below surged up.
Yang from above plunged down.
Yin and yang met.
The energies mixed.
Already overwhelming, now utterly opposed.
Krarung!
A roar incomparable to before echoed inside him.
Like dozens of explosives detonating.
His body jolted each time, ears assaulted by endless thunder.
'Am I dying...'
At least his body held amid the explosions.
But the shocks overwhelmed; blood burst from his seven apertures.
* * *
“Yeah, ordinary folks wouldn't know. You have to experience it.”
Namgung Hancheol continued softly.
“Most called absolute in the martial world started like this. No wonder Wudang was once the supreme sword sect. Now just mediocre.”
Yi Han wanted to say Wudang was still top-tier—only Namgung monsters called it mediocre!
Expecting common sense from them was impossible.
“Haa... Naturally, you're one of those absolutes. Anyone else?”
“My late father and eldest.”
Current top under heaven Namgung Hancheol and former top Namgung Bigwang made sense.
“Eldest? That Namgung Dae kid too? Did the heaven-earth-whatever on his head?”
“Not heaven-earth—Wuji, Taiji, yangyi, four images...”
“Skip the details! Just the conclusion!”
“Tsk tsk. Eldest seems dim, but he takes after me about thirty percent from childhood.”
It ended in self-praise, as usual.
Yi Han, used to it, pouted.
“So what's that got to do with this mess?”
Namgung Hancheol grinned.
“Maybe one more in the martial world soon.”
He frowned, dissatisfied.
“Yeah, even a dimwit like you gets it this way. I didn't see it, but Father said the Heavenly Demon had it too. Weak for it, though.”
* * *
'This is!'
That instant, the energy's flow changed.