Wudang Sacred Scriptures Chapter 68

Daoist Hyehae continued, a shadow of worry on his face.

“No matter how much I’ve researched and consulted the records, I’ve found no precedent for a case like yours.”

“You’ve been researching the condition of my body...?”

Kwak Yeon had heard from Daoist Cheongmu that Hyehae had secluded himself with stacks of ancient texts.

“I... I’m not sure I deserve such effort.”

“It was your master’s order.”

“Ah...”

“In all the dical scrolls and ridian records I’ve studied, not one ntions a case of soone being born with such imnse innate essence that it could burn away even the internal energy refined through martial cultivation. They all agree—no amount of breathing exercises or physical refinent can compare to what is gained through seated ditation in the Daoist path.”

“...!”

“In conclusion, the cause doesn’t lie within—but outside. Can you think of anything at all?”

But Kwak Yeon could recall nothing unusual.

“No, I can’t.”

He’d always assud it was just a side effect of operating the Celestial ridian Map. But clearly, it wasn’t.

Then what in heaven’s na caused it?

Without an answer, it ant he’d have to keep relying on the Immortal’s Room to accumulate energy—a prison of cultivation.

Daoist Hyehae, seeing the frustration on Kwak Yeon’s face, gently said:

“Don’t let despair overtake you. Your master believed the essence she left you is so vast, it could surpass even the equilibrium point.”

“Equilibrium point?”

“No matter how much essence one possesses within, compared to the qi of the world, it’s like a single raindrop falling into the sea. But if your refined internal energy crosses a certain threshold, even your innate essence will cease to act as a limitation.”

“Ah...”

“She also believed that once you reach that stage, it will beco your greatest blessing. Your internal furnace is so vast, it will allow you to refine qi of the purest clarity.”

Kwak Yeon felt a profound sense of comfort. He still didn’t know when that ti would co, but now he had hope—hope that he might one day leave the suffocating chamber that had been both sanctuary and prison.

Daoist Hyehae continued.

“That’s not the only reason I called you.”

He reached beneath the desk and brought out a sword.

“Take it.”

The blade glead faintly with a cool blue light. The sheath, fashioned from smooth, unblemished leather, had clearly been crafted with exceptional care.

“Daoist Hyeonmun of Yeongmudang asked to deliver it to you. He commissioned it from the master smith of the Ironworks Hall. It lacks only the pine emblem—but it’s no different in quality from a true Songmun Sword. He said it should serve you well.”

Kwak Yeon felt his eyes sting with tears as he thought of Daoist Hyeonmun.

He hasn’t forgotten ...

“It would have been proper to grant you an official Songmun Sword, but your master did not wish it. Do not take it as neglect.”

Back in the Immortal’s Room, Kwak Yeon sat in silence, staring at the sword.

It wasn’t just a weapon.

It carried the affection of Daoist Hyeonmun. Though circumstances had prevented them from forming a formal bond of master and disciple, in his heart, he had always been Kwak Yeon’s teacher.

Kwak Yeon placed the sword [N O V E L I G H T] before him and bowed three tis.

I will beco a disciple of Wudang worthy of this honor.

He had been quietly longing for a proper sword.

With great care, Kwak Yeon gripped the hilt.

“Press down on the guard with your thumb and forefinger. The remaining three fingers should hold the handle lightly.”

He could almost hear Hyeonmun’s firm voice from the days he first learned Tai Chi Sword Forms.

Shhhk.

The blade slid smoothly from its sheath.

A flash of green-blue light danced across its surface, and the weight in his hands told him it had been forged and reforged many tis over.

This wasn’t a casual request.

The spacing and density of the folded steel patterns were too precise—clearly the work of a master. Probably the Ironworks Hall’s head smith himself.

Even for the sake of a hall lord’s personal request, it was rare for such a craftsman to put this much care into a weapon.

Kwak Yeon realized then:

The people of Wudang... they’re supporting .

I was never truly alone.

On impulse, he began to perform the Tai Chi Sword Forms.

Perhaps it was the surge of emotion—

—but sword aura began to rise from the blade in streams.

By the ti he had completed all sixty-four postures, he realized that the Art of the Everchanging Origin had been flowing through him the entire ti.

Mind gives birth to energy!

Ah—so that was the aning.

It wasn’t my own feelings that stirred it. It was the mory of those who care for .

It was the beginning of true realization—of the Art’s deeper purpose.

After returning the sword to its sheath, Kwak Yeon sat in silent ditation for a long while. And in that silence, the path ahead slowly revealed itself.

To understand Heaven’s will, he realized, he would need to leave this place—and step into the world.

But for that...

He had to escape the invisible shackles of this chamber.

That strange, unexplained fate still bound him here.

As he gazed blankly at the sword in his lap, a mory surfaced—this wasn’t the first thing soone had given him.

There was the pouch. The one entrusted to him by old man Jang.

He had said the owner would find it when the ti ca—but that ti had not yet co.

Kwak Yeon had never once opened it. Partly out of loyalty to his promise, but also because he instinctively knew it was important—too important to ddle with casually.

"Its effect did not co from within, but from without."

Daoist Hyehae’s voice echoed in his mind.

So too did a conversation with Daoist Cheongmu.

"Why do you like so much?"

He had asked once, when the Daoist expressed regret about not spending more ti with him.

"I don’t know! I just feel good when I’m around you, little Senior Uncle."

Cheongmu had said it with a beaming smile.

"That’s different from the Palace Lord... or even your master."

And now Kwak Yeon rembered—he had always felt at peace when he was with old man Jang.

That’s why I went to see him every night. I even stopped caring about watching the Celestial ridian Map.

Then he rembered sothing else: since the day he’d received that pouch, his fatigue had mysteriously disappeared.

That’s when it started. I stopped using breathing techniques under the night sky.

He had been too caught in grief after Jang’s death to realize it before.

Now, with a strange resolve, Kwak Yeon took off the pouch hanging around his neck.

It had never once left his body.

He never said I couldn’t look inside. Only that it was a secret.

He was alone in the Immortal’s Room. There was no one to spy on him.

Old man Jang... just for a mont, may I?

Of course, there was no reply.

But he was sure the old man wouldn’t mind—not for this.

He would keep his promise. That much, he vowed.

Carefully, Kwak Yeon untied the threads that sealed the pouch.

Inside, he found a small object.

And froze.

It was a flat, rounded piece of black tal, no larger than a fingertip.

What stunned him wasn’t its shape, but what was engraved upon it.

A blazing, spiraling fla emblem.

He had seen it before.

This... this is the sa pattern as that girl’s necklace!

It was said to be tied to the ancestors of long ago—and ant to lift the shackles now binding him.

"Though it’s useless to now," the old man had said.

Was this really what she was searching for?

Kwak Yeon doubted, but only for a mont. It was clear the item had been what the girl, Jeong-ah, had been seeking. And just as clear—it was not her whom old man Jang had spoken of.

The person he’d ntioned had been from Wudang, and soone he’d called his oldest friend.

That this object held weighty significance was sothing Kwak Yeon had always sensed. After all, old man Jang had begged him repeatedly to never speak of it.

It wasn’t just sentint—it held a secret.

A secret...?

The word triggered a mory: the strangeness surrounding Jang’s death.

According to the apothecary Heon-ik, who had perford the examination, Jang should have died long ago from multiple chronic illnesses.

Could it be... this thing helped him gather life essence?

He rembered Jang sitting beside the fire night after night, boiling an empty cauldron over blazing wood.

And when he had once asked, “There’s nothing in there, is there?” the old man had grinned and replied:

"I’m nurturing life."

"The things we see aren’t all there is," he’d added later, handing over the pouch—with a face full of peace, and a sorrow that stretched beyond words.

Jang had known that removing this item would end his life.

He was truly sustaining himself... gathering life essence all that ti.

Everything now made sense.

Why Kwak Yeon’s essence had beco so powerful. Why he’d been able to survive the tornt of the Immortal’s Room. Why his internal energy had burned away and refused to settle.

He felt no resentnt—none at all.

Jang had known nothing of martial cultivation. He couldn’t have imagined the side effects. In his eyes, it was simply a gift—strengthening one’s vitality could only be a blessing.

In the end, he even led to the Wudang Sacred Scripture itself.

Truthfully, there was no natural opposition between innate essence and internal energy.

He had rely suffered because the imbalance had been too extre. But once he found equilibrium, it would actually help him refine purer energy. They’d said so themselves.

Kwak Yeon placed the object back in the pouch, carefully retying the cords just as they had been. Then he hung it once more around his neck.

Even while growing this essence, I’ve still been refining internal energy. That’s why my qi is purer. If I abandon this process now, I might be able to train outside the chamber—but I’d lose that purity. It might even cause harm later.

He had no intention of choosing the easy road.

Most of all, he didn’t want to dishonor Daoist Unseon’s final gift—the precious essence she had entrusted to him.

Even if the Immortal’s Room is hell now, I know this hardship will help in the future.

As the storm of emotions subsided, his mind grew calm again. And with it, ca a question—who had this treasure been ant for?

A peerless relic that gathered life essence.

Whoever it was had to know its nature. Had to be soone worthy of possessing it. Soone who had been away from Wudang for a long ti... and soone of Jang’s own generation.

Only one na ca to mind.

The Grandmaster of Wudang.

The one they called Sword Sovereign Wudang—a peerless sword saint.

It must be him!

When heart and body shine, the sky turns blue even in darkness.

If not him, who else could carve such boundless intent into the foundation stone of Akyang Pavilion, upon erging from seclusion?

Kwak Yeon imagined the two of them—born into opposite stations, yet secretly bound by lifelong friendship.

One, a prodigy of Wudang. The other, just a scullery boy in the kitchen halls. They must have t as children, before anyone noticed the divide between them.

How did they et, I wonder?

Perhaps young Jang, sneaking roasted chestnuts into the kitchen fire after picking them in the mountains, had been caught by the scent. And perhaps that sll had lured the young future Grandmaster—then a child himself, being scolded by his teacher—into the sa kitchen.

The image made Kwak Yeon smile.

That’s not such a far-fetched thought.

After all, the first ti he’d t old man Jang had been in front of the kitchen fire—and so had the last. The man had spent his entire life beside the hearth.

Two children with soot-covered cheeks, cracking chestnuts, giggling at each other’s ssy faces.

Surely, the Grandmaster must have noticed his old friend’s ailing body. And with so excuse or another, he must have forced the priceless relic into Jang’s hands.

And when Jang realized he would be expelled from Wudang before the Grandmaster returned, he must have entrusted it to the one he believed in most... .

Tears welled in Kwak Yeon’s eyes.

Was I truly worth that kind of trust?

He’d done his best. He always would. But he couldn’t say he was confident. Only that he would try harder than anyone.

Still, old man... that was too much. I nearly failed the disciple trials at Yeongmudang because of that thing. I was this close to being expelled from the mountain.

"What, you brat! You think you’d have made it up here with that scrawny body if not for it?"

He could almost hear Jang’s scolding bark echoing in his ears.