Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Kwak Yeon had finally come to understand that the balance between the righteous and demonic factions of the martial world—the so-called White Path and Black Path—was not mere happenstance. It was an actual pact. A tacit agreement that kept the world from tearing itself apart.

He had once thought it was just a natural, unspoken balance born of circumstance.

“I have no connection to the Zhengwuguan.”

“But that uniform...?”

“I’m merely borrowing it, as a lay Daoist of the lineage of the Way.”

Sagungjin had no choice but to believe him. And no choice at all beyond that.

There was simply nothing the Black Snake Gang could do against a master who could unleash sword qi without a single preparatory motion—a peerless expert whose power felt as though it came from beyond the heavens.

And this man was here to spare his only son.

The Zhengwuguan-backed Ghost Sound Gang was already becoming too much to withstand. The final card he’d been saving for a desperate last stand had now been nullified—shattered—by the Reclusive Daoist.

“It may take some time... but I’ll begin the dissolution.”

That very day, Kwak Yeon left Geyang-hyeon behind.

There was no need to stay and verify the dismantling of the Black Snake Gang.

The moment word got out that the gang leader had conceded, the Black Snake Gang would cease to exist. In the Black Path, turning your back meant death. He’d heard as much from the Azure Dragon Swordsman, Hong Suchun.

”That’s why those in the Black Path fight to the bitter end, even when they know they’re doomed.”

Now that I think about it... the Gang Chief may have taken the wrong first step—but he wasn’t entirely vile.

At the very least, he had chosen to spare his son.

He was still a father.

Would he feel grateful? He’d lost the gang, but kept his life and his son’s.

Who could say what his life would look like from now on?

Could he and his family escape the net of heavenly retribution that comes for all wrongdoing?

That would depend entirely on the weight of the sins he’d sown over the years.

Crossing into Hunan, Kwak Yeon left all thoughts of Geyang-hyeon behind.

And yet, something still unsettled him.

It was the creeping sense of discomfort over the secular branches of the Wudang Sect expanding into business—corruptly, greedily.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the shadow of Elder Yunhak Jin-in.

He’d heard too many whispers about the Grand Elder pursuing Wudang’s worldly prestige above all else.

And whenever he thought of Yunhak Jin-in, all he could see was a father who drank and ranted when the world failed to give him what he wanted—and took it out on his family.

I need to get out of these robes—soon.

Only then could he stop thinking about Mount Wudang.

After all, his goal was not fame, not prestige—but the Realm of Boundless Emptiness.

As the concept surfaced in his mind—the elusive, dreamlike Realm of Wuji—his thoughts turned to the qi of evil said to permeate the world.

He’d seen no trace of it so far.

What exactly did Master Unseon see that made him fear this evil qi so deeply?

One question led to another.

Could that be why the Grandmaster has yet to send word? Could the danger be real enough to hold even him in place?

It seemed entirely possible. Who could stop the Sword Sovereign of the World from going wherever he pleased?

Still, Kwak Yeon did not believe for a moment that harm had come to him.

There must be a reason—something unavoidable.

That thought left him uneasy.

He had made a promise to Elder Jang. To keep it, he would have to find the Grandmaster. And he still needed answers about the iron medallion hanging from his neck.

Whether from that anxiety or simply the winding mountain paths, he lost his way again.

But this time, he hadn’t strayed far from the main road, and he soon came across a humble country home.

The woman of the house saw his robes and welcomed him in, gladly offering the spare room.

“As long as there’s a roof to keep off the dew, I’ll be just fine.”

“Nonsense, I couldn’t turn away a Daoist. If you really want to repay the kindness, then tomorrow before you go—could you write me a protective talisman?”

Despite the clear poverty in this remote mountain household, the woman had even prepared food with quiet devotion.

Watching her small children eye the food with wide, hungry stares, Kwak Yeon couldn’t bring himself to lift his chopsticks.

“I had a very full late lunch on the road. I’m still quite full.”

From the other room came the clatter of small hands clumsily wielding chopsticks.

Night fell, but no father came home.

And the children didn’t so much as glance toward the gate, which meant he was likely far away—or perhaps...

Perhaps there was no father at all.

Kwak Yeon didn’t ask. He couldn’t bring himself to risk stirring pain he had no right to touch.

At dawn, he slipped out quietly.

The woman, already up and tending the hearth, gasped at his sudden appearance.

“Daoist! The sun hasn’t even risen—why so early? Please, let me at least serve breakfast before you go.”

“I’m sorry. I have to reach Shimjeong-hyeon before the day’s out, so I must be on my way.”

“You’ll be there by mid-afternoon, even with a steady pace.”

“I’m slow of foot. And poor at directions. As for the talisman—I’ve already placed one in the room. I can’t promise it’ll be effective... my cultivation is still lacking.”

The hastily scrawled talisman likely wouldn’t do much—but the few gold coins he’d placed beneath it certainly would.

As he stepped into the yard, the woman spoke hesitantly.

“If you’re heading to Shimjeong-hyeon... may I ask a favor?”

“Of course.”

“There’s a place there called Seongha Sangbang, right by Cheoltong Bridge. My husband works there. If you’re passing by, could you let him know we’re well?”

Her face darkened, but Kwak Yeon said nothing about it.

“I will. I’ll make sure to stop by.”

“His name is Seo Cheongsam. We haven’t heard from him in some time, and I hate to impose like this. I did try visiting once, but he’d gone on a long business trip, and I missed him. And with the children, I can’t go often. I know it’s a burden, but I’d be grateful.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ll be sure to deliver your message.”

As he left, the woman stood watching from the yard.

Even as he rounded the bend at the edge of the woods, he could still feel her eyes on his back.

So this is what a home feels like.

He realized—he’d never been seen off by anyone.

At Three Spirits Palace, Elder Hyeonhae had forbidden anyone from doing so, mindful of the eyes of the Wudang sect.

Surely, Daoist Cheongmu had watched from the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» forest... but Kwak Yeon had never looked back.

He hadn’t dared, in case she came running after him in tears.

Back in Hanghwaseokjeong, in the village of his childhood, his mother hadn’t come to see him off either—too afraid of his father’s wrath.

I wonder... was she hiding somewhere, just like Daoist Cheongmu, watching in silence?

He was certain of it now.

Of course she had watched.

Kwak Yeon’s steps grew lighter with that quiet realization.

It didn’t take long to find Seongha Sangbang, just past Cheoltong Bridge in Shimjeong-hyeon.

The real problem was that no one there seemed to know anyone named Seo Cheongsam.

“Please, think carefully. I’m looking for a man named Seo Cheongsam. He’s from a mountain village called Ududeom, about a day north of here.”

“Ududeom, Madudeom—it doesn’t matter what you call it. I’m telling you, we don’t know anyone by that name.”

When Kwak Yeon remained rooted in place and refused to turn back, the man scowled and asked,

“Who exactly are you, anyway? Why’re you so desperate to find this Seo fellow? You his brother or something?”

“I was asked to find him by his wife. She told me she came here before, but was told her husband was away on extended business.”

“Extended business? Then you should speak to the overseer. Ah, speak of the devil—he’s coming now.”

A middle-aged man in fine silk stepped out through the gates of Seongha Sangbang.

“What’s all this noise about?”

“Overseer, this Daoist is asking after someone named Seo Cheongsam from Ududeom. Claims he heard the man was out on long-term business.”

“Seo Cheongsam, long-term business...?”

The overseer, So Seokha, gave Kwak Yeon a sweeping glance, then said,

“Ah, I remember now. That one and a few other laborers up and vanished during a shipment run. Caused no end of trouble—we were short-handed for weeks.”

“You mean... he deserted during the trip?”

Kwak Yeon stiffened. So Seokha continued with a grimace.

“They took some of the goods and ran off. Bunch of country bumpkins saw the big city and lost their damn minds. The loss we took from that was no small thing. If you’re a family member, we’ll have to talk compensation...”

“Oh no, Overseer! This Daoist just came on someone’s behalf—he’s not family.”

So Seokha frowned.

“Then why the hell is he making such a fuss? Get lost. If you keep blocking the entrance like this, I’ll have the constables drag you off.”

There was no point in insisting on meeting a man everyone claimed didn’t exist.

Kwak Yeon stepped away from the gate and tried to gather his thoughts.

He didn’t know Seo Cheongsam, but he knew his wife—and the children with wide eyes and hollow stomachs.

She was kind-hearted, full of quiet warmth. And her love for her husband had been clear in every word, every glance.

Even as I rounded the bend, she was still standing there, watching. You don’t say goodbye like that unless your heart is sincere.

It was hard to imagine that a man with such a wife could disappear without a word.

And he had given her his word—to deliver her message, no matter what.

Come to think of it, when he first mentioned the term “extended business,” the gatekeeper had looked uncomfortable. As if trying to shift responsibility toward the overseer.

Even the way the overseer had examined him—head to toe—had felt wrong.

He was gauging me. Watching for something.

No matter what, Kwak Yeon couldn’t shake the image of that woman, waiting in her mountain home with her children—for a husband and father who might never return.

This smells of something rotten.

There was no way to force the truth from them. Not without alarming them. And from the doorman to the overseer, they had all seemed unusually guarded.

If I go poking around now, I’ll only drive the rats deeper into their holes. Better to watch from a distance...

With that, Kwak Yeon crossed the street to a nearby inn that offered a clear view of Seongha Sangbang.

“Welcome, traveler!”

Kwak Yeon approached a slightly older-looking servant boy and asked,

“I’m thinking of staying a few days. Do you have any rooms available?”

“Of course we do, but...”

The boy’s gaze hesitated—probably put off by the worn and dusty robes.

Kwak Yeon let a pouch of silver glint just enough to catch the eye.

“I’d prefer a room with a view of the street.”

“Ah! As it happens, we’ve got just one of those left. It’s a larger suite, though—far more than one guest needs...”

“No matter the price.”

“In that case, allow me to show you up right away!”

The suite on the inn’s third floor was every bit as grand as advertised—wide, ornate, and obviously marked up for profit.

There was no way it was the only room left, not with how empty the dining hall was.

But Kwak Yeon didn’t mind.

People tended to be more attentive when money was involved. And besides, he had gold to spare—courtesy of the bounty that had once been on his own head.

He had brought it for moments like this.