The Sunflower Manual
In the end, Seomun Hwi remained another full seven days and nights before he finally left the Kongdong Sect. Even after half a month had passed since his departure, Soga-yul still had not summoned Cheongwol.
With nothing particular to occupy him and boredom settling in, Cheongwol began latching onto Unhak whenever the senior brother came by with meals, striking up conversation after conversation.
"Senior Brother Unhak, do you know any interesting stories? Tales of chivalrous heroes who uphold righteousness and justice, for example?"
"Senior Brother Unhak, would you spar with me? I'm curious what Kongdong martial arts are like."
"Senior Brother Unhak! Hey! Look over there! There's an enormous frog! There's no river nearby—where could it have come from?"
At first Unhak had treated Cheongwol with a certain wary deference, sensing the young man was somehow acquainted with the Sect Leader. Before long, however, he was handling him exactly as one would a thoroughly bothersome little brother.
"Well… it probably just climbed up on its own, didn't it? It's not just any frog—it's a Kongdong frog. Maybe it picked up a cultivation method somewhere."
The answer was pure nonsense, delivered without the slightest effort, yet Cheongwol laughed like a child at Unhak's words.
"If frogs are learning martial arts, then every animal on Mount Kongtong must be a spirit beast. Should we catch one or two and check whether they have inner cores?"
"You'd be hard-pressed to find even one. The senior brothers sneak out every night and eat them all without leaving a single scrap."
Even Unhak could not keep a straight face after that; he broke into laughter alongside Cheongwol.
"Ah, Senior Brother Unhak. Today I really do have something I've been wanting to ask."
Still chuckling, Cheongwol came closer with sparkling eyes. Unhak thought, Here we go again, yet found himself quietly curious about what the boy would bring up this time.
"What are you wondering about now? As I told you before, I have no idea how the duel between the Alliance Leader and the Abbot of Shaolin turned out."
"That doesn't matter anymore. What I want to know about today is the Central Plains."
"The Central Plains… You mean you wish to learn about the murim?"
"Yes, exactly."
When Cheongwol raised such an ordinary topic, Unhak felt a faint twinge of disappointment. After days of laughing together over the sort of gossip commoners traded in the marketplace—Alliance Leader versus Shaolin Abbot, the greatest orthodox master versus the greatest unorthodox master—he had grown rather fond of that playful banter.
Still, a disciple of the Daoist path could not give a half-hearted answer to someone who truly wished to learn.
Unhak picked up a fallen twig and began sketching lines across the ground, calling Cheongwol over.
"Here. This is a map of the Central Plains. And for the record, you must never tell anyone you've seen this."
"Why not?"
"Everyone knows it, yet everyone pretends not to—that is the unspoken pact among the people of the Central Plains. Break it, and agents from the imperial court will come hunting for Fellow Daoist Cheongwol."
"I could just run away."
"Their eyes cover the entire Central Plains. It would be difficult unless you fled beyond the borders entirely."
"…All right. I promise I won't tell a soul."
Only when Cheongwol nodded did Unhak resume moving the twig.
"The Central Plains are broadly divided into two great powers. Taking the Yangtze River you see here as the boundary, the north belongs to the orthodox murim and the south to the unorthodox murim."
"I already know about the orthodox side. The Six Great Clans and the Nine Sects and One Gang form its core. Right?"
"Correct. And among the unorthodox, there are those called the Eight Demonic Clans. You need not memorize them all at once, but be sure to remember the Jin Clan of Guangdong."
"Why?"
"Like the Sichuan Dang Clan, they specialize in hidden weapons and poisons, and they never forget a grudge. They wear purple robes, so they are not hard to recognize."
"Understood."
"Now look over here."
Unhak lifted the twig from the center of the map and shifted it to the far left edge.
"This is Qinghai, home to the Kunlun Sect of the Nine Sects and One Gang. What makes them unusual is that, though they are a Daoist order, they pursue martial arts optimized for killing. There is a reason Kunlun became that way."
The twig moved a little farther, leaving the map of the Central Plains behind.
"It is because of the two powers that lie here: the Demonic Cult seated in the Heavenly Mountains, and the Potala Palace located in Tibet."
Unhak paused briefly, then began to explain.
"The Demonic Cult… From what I know, they first appeared in the Western Regions. Beyond the fact that they are utterly unpredictable, I myself do not know a great deal about them. It is unlikely you will ever meet them, but should you do so, you must never call them Demonic Cultists—always address them as Ming Cultists."
"And if I don't?"
"Either the Ming Cultist or Fellow Daoist Cheongwol will stop breathing."
Unhak's words were both ruthless and absolute; Cheongwol understood their temperament at once.
"As for the Potala Palace, it is home to monks whose Buddhist faith differs from that of the Central Plains. Aside from the Kunlun Sect, relations with them are not particularly bad, so they occasionally appear in the Central Plains. Their skin is darker than that of Central Plains folk, so you will recognize them immediately."
When the explanation of the Potala Palace ended, Cheongwol stretched both arms high overhead, loosening his stiff body.
"Now tell me about the other places. For instance… the Seomun Clan?"
At Cheongwol's words, Unhak's lips curled into a knowing grin.
"I wondered why you suddenly wanted to learn about the Central Plains. So what you really wanted to know was something else entirely."
Caught out, Cheongwol gave an awkward little laugh.
"Of course I want to hear about the other places too. After the Seomun Clan."
As if he understood without needing further words, Unhak nodded and pointed the twig toward the right-hand side of the Central Plains.
"Here. This is Anhui, home to both the Seomun Clan and the Namgung Clan. It is where your friend, Young Master Seomun Hwi, resides."
Only three days after hearing Unhak's account of the Central Plains was Cheongwol finally able to meet Soga-yul again.
"Sect Leader."
"Come in."
Permission granted from within, Cheongwol carefully opened the door and stepped inside.
"Sit. Do not just stand there staring."
"Yes."
Perhaps it was the thought that he must now regard her as his master. A faint tension showed on Cheongwol's face.
"Have you been well? I hear you latched onto Unhak and refused to let him go. Young Master Seomun will be rather displeased if he finds out."
Soga-yul asked with a sly smile, clearly teasing. Cheongwol scratched his cheek, embarrassed.
"Hwi is not so petty a friend as that."
"Hmm… I rather doubt it, but never mind. That is not what matters, so let us move on."
Soga-yul shrugged, then came straight to the point.
"I have been giving some thought to the martial art I ought to teach you. The arts of the Im Clan are no ordinary, peculiar techniques."
She fixed Cheongwol with a serious gaze.
"Tell me. What did he teach you, and how much do you know of the Im Clan's martial arts?"
Cheongwol carefully began to speak, recalling what his grandfather had told him.
"The martial art of the Im Clan is a sword technique called the Bixie Swordplay. It consists of seventy-two forms and primarily employs the Changing Sword and the Illusory Sword."
When Cheongwol fell silent afterward and simply gazed at her, Soga-yul's brow furrowed slightly.
"…Is that all?"
"Yes. That is everything I know. Ah—I also know that no internal energy method matching the Bixie Swordplay exists."
Soga-yul gave a small shake of her head.
"Of course not. The Bixie Swordplay was never a sword technique to begin with. It is an internal energy method."
"What?"
The Bixie Swordplay was not a sword art but a cultivation method? What on earth did that mean?
Cheongwol stared at her with startled eyes. From her robes Soga-yul drew out a single worn book and set it upon the table.
"This is…"
"Another secret manual of the Im Clan that he entrusted to me. Without this manual, the martial arts of the Im Clan are only half complete."
So saying, she held the book out to Cheongwol.
"Only today am I able to return it to you."
He ought to have rejoiced at reclaiming an Im Clan secret manual, yet Cheongwol merely stared at it for a long while, his eyes filled with complicated emotion.
"…Without this manual, the Bixie Swordplay is only half a martial art?"
"As far as I know, yes."
"Then… why did Grandfather never master this manual? If he had learned it, the Im Clan would have…"
Sensing the thoughts running through Cheongwol's mind, Soga-yul let out a quiet sigh.
"…That manual does not contain another martial art. It records a great method, and the conditions required to perform that great method."
"A great method…?"
"Yes. There are three principal conditions for performing it."
Soga-yul tapped her fingers against the tabletop as she enumerated the requirements.
"First, one must be a boy who has not yet passed the age of twenty."
"Second, one must be able to execute every form of the Bixie Swordplay with complete mastery."
"And third."
Her brow furrowed faintly as she looked at Cheongwol.
"One must remove the yang root, purging as much yang energy from the body as possible."
"…"
For a moment Cheongwol simply blinked, as though he had not understood her words.
Then, in an instant, the color drained from his face.
"Wait—removing the yang root… You don't mean…"
He desperately hoped he had misheard, yet the words that left Soga-yul's lips remained unchanged.
"It is exactly what you are thinking. Only by doing so can the Bixie Swordplay reclaim its true name."
Soga-yul looked at him and offered a faint smile.
"The peerless divine art that dares claim no rival under heaven—the Sunflower Manual."