Wudang Sacred Scriptures

“Kwak Yeon! Don’t be startled.”

“......”

“We have a guest.”

At Three Spirits Palace, not only were visitors rare—people rarely showed up at all.

So it made sense that Daoist Cheongmu was acting so flustered.

“What kind of guest came?”

“I don’t know who it is. I only caught a glimpse—they were wearing Daoist robes. Right now, Master is meeting with them at Purity Hall.”

At that moment, Kwak Yeon’s mind flashed to Master Hyeonmun of Yeongmu Hall.

“Do not give up. I will not give up on you.”

Not a day had passed since leaving Yeongmu Hall that he hadn’t recalled that final farewell.

Even if it wasn’t Hyeonmun himself, the fact that the guest wore Daoist robes meant it must be one of the masters from the Seven Halls. He might finally hear news of his fellow disciples from Yeongmu.

‘Ah... come to think of it, it’s already been more than half a year. They must have made great strides by now.’

Compared to that, he felt endlessly insignificant.

It had been two weeks since he’d gained the seed of Internal Energy Pressure, yet he was still stuck in the same faint state.

Though he’d been secretly training in Nine Palace Palm during ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) free moments in the mountains, he hadn’t made even a flicker of progress.

“Brother Cheongmu, would it be alright if I swept the courtyard today?”

“Hey, that’s my job though.”

“Then maybe you could clean Daoist Hyeonin’s room instead? It’s just... doing the same thing every day gets a little dull.”

He was gradually learning how to work around Cheongmu’s stubborn simplicity.

“Fair enough. Doing the same chores every day was getting a little boring anyway.”

More than guilt, curiosity took the lead in him.

As Kwak Yeon swept the courtyard, he sensed a presence and lifted his head.

He froze when he spotted a Daoist emerging from Purity Hall.

‘Ah! Master Hyeonmun!’

He hadn’t forgotten the promise.

And Master Hyeonmun had spotted Kwak Yeon as well, standing in the courtyard.

That’s when Daoist Hyehae’s voice came from behind.

“Hall Master, the mountain path is steep. You should hurry. The sun is nearly down—you’ll need to cross Azure Cloud Bridge soon.”

At those words, Hyeonmun’s lips soured.

But there was nothing he could do.

He hadn’t been invited. He was an outsider to Three Spirits Palace.

And worse still, he had come with an unreasonable request—an unwelcome visitor.

—step, step

Hyeonmun stepped onto the stone path. His gaze met Kwak Yeon’s.

When Kwak Yeon bowed his head, Hyeonmun simply returned the gesture in silence.

Because Daoist Hyehae’s voice still rang in his ears:

“The boy’s heart has only just begun to find peace. I cannot permit anyone to cast stones into it.”

Hyeonmun realized what this meant—Hyehae had resolved to accept Kwak Yeon not as a mere novice, but as a true disciple of the Line of the Daoist Immortals.

‘Am I too late?’

He bowed again, and could do nothing but walk past Kwak Yeon.

Kwak Yeon stood frozen.

How long he had waited for Master Hyeonmun. How much he had longed for this moment.

He feared that if he ran into the man’s arms, he would break down in tears.

He feared he’d burst into sobs over all the pain he had endured, and shout that he’d finally begun to generate energy—he feared he’d let it all out.

But Hyeonmun had merely bowed and walked away.

With a gaze that felt deliberately distant. With an overly formal air.

“......!”

Kwak Yeon’s eyes turned to the open doors of Purity Hall.

And there, he caught sight of Daoist Hyehae’s stern gaze.

Hyehae summoned Kwak Yeon to sit before him.

“You haven’t been practicing seated meditation lately, have you?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then I imagine you’ve been neglecting your studies of the Daoist Scriptures as well?”

“I apologize. This may sound like an excuse, but the texts you gave me were ones I’d already studied at the school below the mountain.”

“Are you still the same person you were back then?”

“I’m sorry.”

“The fault lies with me. I didn’t realize your heart was still wandering.”

“......”

“That is why I called you here today.”

Kwak Yeon swallowed hard.

“I intend to take you as my disciple of the Main Hall.”

Boom.

The ground beneath him felt like it was falling away. What he had feared from the sight of Hyeonmun’s weary back had become reality.

He had never wanted to become a disciple of the Line of the Daoist Immortals.

Not because of the mockery of being called a “Cave Daoist.”

But because he knew they had no connection to martial cultivation.

He had thought such a thing would never happen. Yet here it was, staring him in the face.

And it came just as hope had begun to bloom in his chest, after sensing the seed of Internal Energy Pressure within his dantian.

He wanted to ask the Primordial Celestial why he was being treated so cruelly.

Why couldn’t he have just been born into an ordinary family? Or given a normal body—one that could build Internal Energy like everyone else?

And if not that... why even allow moments like this to exist?

“From now on, you must not practice Moving Meditation or cultivate any martial arts. It would interfere with the Spiritual Energy of the Immortal Line.”

“Don’t I have a choice in the matter?”

A bold question.

No novice had ever asked such a thing before. Even among the many who had passed through Three Spirits Palace, being chosen as a disciple was rare beyond rare.

“A choice? For a novice?”

“Is it really such an outrageous thing to ask?”

“It is.”

Daoist Hyehae nodded solemnly.

“If those who once dreamed of becoming disciples heard you, they would grieve. Of course, I’ve been told by Hyeonmun of Yeongmu Hall that your circumstances are unlike others.”

“......”

“But that doesn’t change the position of this hall. Novices who prove themselves through training are chosen as disciples of the Main Hall.”

In other words, he had no choice.

But Kwak Yeon was not one to follow paths that weren’t his own.

Even if the one speaking was the highest authority in Three Spirits Palace, he would not hold back what he needed to say.

“I didn’t climb Three Spirits Peak of my own will. And more than anything else, I do not seek the Daoist Immortal path.”

For a moment, Hyehae seemed taken aback.

He closed his eyes for a beat, then opened them slowly.

“Not just your heart, but your entire being is still wandering in the fields.”

“......”

“This hall does not have the leisure to carry a novice who lacks the will to follow the path. Still, your beopgi is promising, so I will grant you ten days to reflect.”

“If I leave Three Spirits Palace... where would I go?”

“Like the other novices, you would descend the mountain. You would leave Mount Wudang completely.”

That meant Kwak Yeon was being abandoned all over again.

To give up the dream of martial cultivation and instead accumulate Spiritual Energy—one couldn’t say it was a bad path.

In fact, being recognized for one’s Daoist power often earned even greater respect.

It was only within the Wudang Sect that the Immortal Line was looked down upon, mocked as “cave hermits.” But among common folk who believed in Immortals, it was often Three Spirits Palace they thought of first when speaking of Wudang.

It may have started as a joke passed along by visiting adepts well-versed in formation arts, but there was even a rumor that the Seven Halls of Wudang were actually the honor guard for Three Spirits Palace.

Strangely enough, the way the Seven Halls were arranged around the palace really did resemble the shape of the Big Dipper protecting a central star.

But Kwak Yeon had a profound dream.

He wanted power—to protect his family.

He had never longed for personal peace or comfort.

In the end, even the Immortal’s path was just another form of eternal leisure for the self.

****

“I’m sorry.”

Daoist Cheongmu appeared by Kwak Yeon’s side for the first time in a while.

He scratched furiously at the back of his head.

“Master said I shouldn’t come near you for ten days.”

For someone like Cheongmu—who would lay down his life if his master asked—it said a lot that he had shown up after just three days. It meant he truly, desperately couldn’t stay away.

“Kwak Yeon... do you not want to be my junior disciple?”

“Brother Cheongmu, why would I dislike that? It’s just... the path is different from the one I’m aiming for.”

“That itchy feeling in your body?”

“If I had to pick just one reason, then yes, that would be it.”

There was no easy way to explain every single martial discipline—inner energy techniques, cultivation manuals, sword forms, fist arts, movement skills.

And truth be told, Cheongmu probably didn’t have the attention span to follow any of it.

So any conversation with him had to be kept as simple as possible.

“I’ll beg Master to let you keep doing it.”

“Brother Cheongmu, begging won’t change anything.”

“I don’t care how complicated it is! Just say you’ll become Master’s disciple. I’ll secretly keep teaching you anyway.”

“That’s not the issue. And besides, you’re not supposed to use martial arts anymore either, remember?”

“So I really can’t?”

“Absolutely not.”

Cheongmu’s face darkened.

“Kwak Yeon, promise me you won’t leave.”

“......”

“Why won’t you answer?”

“Because as far as my will is concerned—I won’t leave.”

A vague answer. He was saying he wouldn’t run away on his own.

But Cheongmu, in his simplicity, lit up with relief.

“Good! Actually, the reason I came to you today was...”

He glanced around furtively.

“To give you this.”

He pulled something from his robes, wrapped in leaves.

“It’s that thing you ate last time—the one that made you itchy inside. The ginseng! Turns out there was another root I didn’t dig up.”

Kwak Yeon felt a lump in his throat.

He now understood why Cheongmu had been wandering the mountains with that frantic look in his eyes.

“Just wait. This one’s even stronger. It’s the granddaddy of the last one. I caught it peeking out from behind a rock and snatched it right up.”

Ginseng typically grows in clusters. The original “mother root” is usually the oldest and largest among them.

Kwak Yeon had been wondering about the ginseng he’d eaten before.

Wasn’t it the spiritual herb that birthed his first Internal Energy Pressure?

He unwrapped the leaf bundle.

‘Wait... this is just a regular ginseng?’

Its bulb was dense—likely over a hundred years old. It was about the size of an adult’s thumb.

An incredibly rare ginseng, yes—but not a spiritual creature.

Ginseng like this could be found with enough effort.

Which meant the ones he had taken before were probably smaller, younger roots.

‘But... then how did I develop Internal Energy Pressure from them?’

“Eat this one and grow that itchy thing even bigger. I’ll get you loads more.”

The sincerity behind those words brought tears to Kwak Yeon’s eyes.

“Thank you, Brother Cheongmu.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Still scratching his head, Cheongmu looked to the side and suddenly brightened.

“Oh! Little one, you’re back again?”

Kwak Yeon didn’t even flinch. He was used to this by now.

Cheongmu often talked to thin air as though someone were standing right there.

What made it unnerving was how logical the conversations always sounded.

It was beyond the level of someone merely talking to themselves.

So Kwak Yeon had asked once:

“Brother Cheongmu, who are you talking to?”

“The little one. I’ve been wanting to introduce you two, but she keeps hiding like she’s embarrassed.”

There was no trace of anyone hiding.

His hallucinations seemed to be worsening. It had started the day he collapsed after knocking on the Immortal’s Room door.

‘It’s because of me.’

He couldn’t exactly tell him it was just a ghost or figment of the mind, so he played along.

And the more he played along, the more frequent the conversations became.

Now, Cheongmu would speak to her as though she were standing right there.

“What’s wrong with Young-a today?”

Cheongmu had even given her a name: Young-a.

“She said she got frustrated watching you and had to come out.”

“Watching what?”

“She says it’s absolutely impossible to develop Internal Energy Pressure just from eating ginseng.”

Kwak Yeon’s eyes widened.

“She said that?”

“Yep. She’s nodding right now. Okay, okay, I get it, stop nodding already. So the itchiness came from something else?”

Kwak Yeon was stunned.

And yet, he couldn’t help but ask. Maybe it was that desperate need to grasp at anything—no matter how unreal.

“Brother Cheongmu, could you ask Young-a for me? Ask her what the reason is.”

That’s how Kwak Yeon communicated with the invisible presence.

“She says... it happened because you entered the Immortal’s Room.”

A shiver rippled down Kwak Yeon’s spine.