Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Master Jeong Sang-cheon of Waryong Hall had no way of knowing the storm brewing inside Kwak Yeon.

Thus, he assumed Kwak Yeon's silence was simply due to being overwhelmed by the prestige of the Jeong family.

“Well, matters of the world are never so simple,” he said. “When attempting great deeds, small sacrifices are bound to happen. In truth, the sacrifices this time were... a bit excessive.”

Master Jeong Sang-cheon turned to his strategist, Jeong Seung-su, and continued.

“Strategist, didn’t I tell you to stop before it went too far? I warned you that when a tail grows too long, it starts to tangle.”

Strategist Jeong Seung-su bowed his head deeply.

“Master, I apologize. I will take full responsibility for what has happened.”

“That’s the proper attitude.”

Master Jeong Sang-cheon gave a slow nod and turned toward Kwak Yeon.

“This was done under the authority of this Hall, so we will bear the consequences. Strategist Jeong will report to the district office and accept punishment. This Hall, too, will publicly declare its wrongdoing and face the condemnation of the martial world. We will also ensure proper compensation is given to the victims.”

Kwak Yeon remained silent, and Master Jeong Sang-cheon’s face hardened as he went on.

“This is an excessive concession, given only because of our long-standing friendship with the Wudang Sect. Frankly, I sometimes wish I had never known you were one of Wudang’s disciples—but what can I do, the truth is already out.”

Kwak Yeon answered calmly.

“Don’t hold back.”

“...What?”

“I said, do not hold back on my account. Just because I belong to Wudang.”

Master Jeong Sang-cheon furrowed his brow.

“Come now, Master Kwak. There’s no such thing as a perfect secret in this world. If something were to happen to you here, our Jeong family would be seen as having wronged Wudang. That must never happen.”

He shook his head and continued.

“Above all, I don’t want to see a promising young master like yourself lost. So let us end this here. Return home. I will spread the word far and wide of your righteous deeds. Honestly, for me, this level of concession is unheard of.”

His words rang with sincerity.

So much so that even Strategist Jeong Seung-su stared at him as though seeing a different man altogether.

Everyone present—Master Jeong Sang-cheon, Strategist Jeong Seung-su, and the four guards—naturally believed Kwak Yeon would rise, express his gratitude, and take his leave.

But—

“There is only one thing I resolved to do when I came here.”

“...?”

“To punish the true instigator behind all of this.”

There was no need to name who that one person was. Everyone understood instantly.

That one person—Master Jeong Sang-cheon of Waryong Hall—his face contorted in rage.

“You reject amnesty and insist on punishment? This is quite the dilemma you present.”

He leaned back into his chair, speaking with a slow drawl.

“Well then. Let’s see if you have what it takes to punish this Hall Master.”

The way he sank into his seat was a signal to the guards.

He was done. Remove him.

As the legitimate successor of the Jeong family, Jeong Sang-cheon was always cautious in his actions. He weighed his decisions carefully, even considering the distant consequences his actions might cause.

But once his mind was made up, not even heaven itself could overturn it.

It was this very caution and cold precision that had placed him as head of the Jeong family’s First Branch.

Even the absurd concessions he had just offered to Kwak Yeon were a result of that same deliberate calculation.

He had recognized Kwak Yeon’s martial mastery, unusual for one so young. He had felt the unyielding aura that matched his own.

In his judgment, Kwak Yeon was the Wudang Sect’s secret dragon—raised with extreme care.

Surely, the sect had spared no elixirs, no resources. He imagined even their elders had poured internal energy into this disciple.

Nothing else could explain such unfathomable internal power in one so young.

And so, if this Wudang disciple were to disappear, Wudang would not let it go. They would pursue it to the ends of the earth.

That was why Jeong Sang-cheon had offered every concession he could.

He had been willing to cover himself in filth, to even sacrifice Strategist Jeong—an indispensable asset of the First Branch—if only temporarily.

But this arrogant brat, so blind to the ways of the world, dared to stab the sky itself.

Master Jeong Sang-cheon concluded: Kwak Yeon would one day pose a grave threat to the Jeong family’s future. If left alone, he would surely grow into a force surpassing even the Supreme Wudang Swordmaster of the past.

And if that happened, just like their fathers' generation, the Jeong family would once again be forced into Wudang’s shadow for decades to come.

Now there was only one path left.

Whoever refuses the hand he extends is no ally—but an enemy.

—Sching! Sching! Sching! Sching!

The four guards drew their swords in unison, and killing intent filled the grand hall.

A faint smile crept onto Strategist Jeong Seung-su’s lips.

Thanks to Kwak Yeon’s stubbornness, he no longer needed to report to the district office and be branded a criminal.

‘Still, the work ahead has only grown.’

Covering up the mine incident would require a great deal of money—but the profits from the silver veins had been immense. That was not a concern.

The real problem was erasing all traces of this Wudang disciple. That would not be easy.

‘Before killing those two fools still frozen over there, I must extract every detail they know about him.’

Then, tracing the trail backward, they would wipe out everyone who had ever seen this Wudang disciple.

And time was of the essence.

If the Wudang Sect caught wind of his disappearance and acted, the cleanup would be nearly impossible.

‘If it comes to that, I may have to ask the main family for help.’

The Jeong family’s main branch had people who specialized in such cleanups.

If the First Branch couldn’t handle it alone, there was no other choice.

‘I’ll be severely reprimanded for it, but still...’

As Strategist Jeong Seung-su organized his next steps in his mind, his eyes caught sight of the Wudang disciple rising to his feet—drawing his sword.

Immortal Points the Way.

It was the signature opening stance of the Wudang Sect’s foundational Taiji Sword Technique—and Jeong Seung-su was dumbstruck.

Was this not the very same rising star that even Master Jeong Sang-cheon had so deeply admired?

He hadn’t expected him to open with advanced swordplay—but he thought he’d show something at least somewhat profound.

And yet, he was adopting a stance used only by Wudang’s novice disciples.

One’s movements in a sword form are limited by its opening posture.

And in this stance, Immortal Points the Way, with the sword raised behind the back, there is only one follow-up: a lateral cut forward.

The Split-Light Swords of the four elite guards were so fast they could cleave sunlight itself.

‘This is reckless bravado. He’s asking to die.’

This Wudang disciple would simply become one more gifted young master who died for lack of experience.

‘Still, dying by the hands of masters like these won’t bring shame to Wudang’s name.’

Strategist Jeong Seung-su clicked his tongue with regret as he watched four streaks of azure light flash through the air.

He had hoped to witness a proper ascending-level sword duel for the first time in a long while.

Pahh!

In that instant, darkness fell.

Strategist Jeong Seung-su was stunned.

The light of the world had gone out.

Even if it was just a fleeting blink.

He wondered if he was feeling faint from nerves.

I should visit a physician and have my pulse read.

The world couldn’t simply go dark. This must have been that brief blackout that follows exposure to an intense light.

What he had seen was the four flashes of blue light conjured by the personal guards.

Jeong Seung-su assumed it had been the clash of their sword auras in a single point—an explosive flash resulting from it, which caused that moment of darkness.

And yet, the four elite guards were standing still like logs.

Frozen mid-strike.

He had heard that with the Split-Light Swords, once set in motion, they were too fast to be stopped.

But they’re frozen?

Soon after, Strategist Jeong Seung-su grew even more bewildered.

The guards who had been frozen in place were now shifting—ever so slightly.

Their lower bodies remained still, but their torsos were sliding—subtly, like gliding over oil.

No... they've been misaligned!

There was a faint but undeniable disconnect between upper and lower halves at the waist.

Heavens! Then that means...

Clang. Clink. Clatter! Clang!

One after another, four swords fell to the floor of the great hall.

And finally, the guards’ torsos slid off entirely—thudding heavily onto the floor.

From the clean cuts where upper and lower halves had parted, blood sprayed in fountains.

Only then did the lower halves, which had been standing so stiffly, collapse onto the severed torsos.

Strategist Jeong Seung-su felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

That blinding flash had devoured all four sword energies!

When had the Wudang disciple managed to draw a full circular arc of a sword path with a radius of over one jang?

And despite drawing his sword later than his opponents, he had completely overpowered them.

Post-initiative victory!

Then it hadn’t been Taiji Sword at all—but the Wudang Sect’s Ascending Sword Technique?

The opening move of Taiji Sword had merely been bait to lure the four guards closer?

Even if that were true, the blinding flash defied explanation.

No—his mind already understood it. He had grasped it.

It was just that his heart had not been ready to accept it.

Because it shouldn’t have been possible. Considering the Wudang disciple’s age, merely entertaining such thoughts would be deemed madness.

A tense silence settled over the hall.

Strategist Jeong Seung-su turned to Master Jeong Sang-cheon.

He hoped—hoped that the master would be enraged.

That he would decry the disciple's actions as disgraceful tricks unworthy of Wudang.

With his depth of cultivation, the master must have seen through such deceit instantly.

But then—

Master Jeong Sang-cheon broke the silence with unexpected applause.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

“Congratulations! So, this is the realm of Gang.”

Strategist Jeong Seung-su felt the world collapse with those claps and those words.

The Realm of Gang!

The state of Fire-Sword Fusion—of manifesting Sword Qi!

They called it a realm because it transcended the boundaries of human capability.

The labels of first-class, pinnacle, or transcendent meant nothing in comparison.

They were just children squabbling inside the limits of human power.

“It’s been ages since I last witnessed Sword Qi Manifest. Our former family head displayed it once, long ago.”

“...”

“And now, in his twenties, he has already reached the Realm of Gang. In all of martial history, this may be unprecedented. Hah... I have no choice but to acknowledge Wudang’s martial arts as the greatest under heaven.”

“Master Jeong, I will say it again—I’m not here for praise.”

At Kwak Yeon’s steady reply, Master Jeong Sang-cheon spoke, still seated.

“Well, I suppose the masters atop Wudang Mountain must have praised you to the point your ears have grown tired. But you’ve clearly proven that you are qualified to punish this Hall Master. I cannot defy that.”

Master Jeong Sang-cheon drew the sword from his waist and raised it vertically before his eyes.

“I haven’t let this sword leave my side for forty years. Even when I slept, it lay under my pillow.”

“...”

“The former family head once said, ‘For a martial man, the moment he lays down his sword is the moment he ceases to be.’”

He looked squarely at Kwak Yeon.

“And yet you... you’ve made me put down my sword.”

Master Jeong Sang-cheon released the hilt from his hand.

In that instant, the sword moved on its own—blasting forward with explosive force.