Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Kwak Yeon couldn’t help but ask, urgently.

“Brother Cheongmu, does Young-a hate the Immortal’s Room?”

Cheongmu paused, tilting his head toward the empty air as if listening, then replied.

“She really hates it.”

That wasn’t something he could just ignore. Even if Young-a was nothing more than a product of Cheongmu’s imagination.

“Could you ask her to explain it in a bit more detail?”

“Before that, Young-a wants to ask you something. She wants to know why you want to learn martial arts.”

It was a question far too serious to have come from the usual Cheongmu.

For a brief moment, Kwak Yeon even wondered if Young-a might actually be real—someone Cheongmu was truly talking to.

“Because I need strength to protect my family. Watching helplessly as we’re torn apart... it’s too painful.”

Cheongmu gasped in surprise.

“Kwak Yeon! You have a family? Where are they?”

“Right in front of me.”

“Huh? There’s nobody here but Young-a.”

“You’re here, Brother.”

“Me? Then I’m your family? Wow! That’s awesome!”

Cheongmu bounced excitedly, then tilted his head.

“Then you don’t need to work so hard. I’m super strong, you know.”

“That’s true.”

Kwak Yeon nodded.

“But you’re not the only family I need to protect.”

Cheongmu glanced once more toward the shadow under the tree.

“Young-a’s asking if you have a lot of family.”

“I do. Just within the Wudang Sect alone, there are more people than I can count—and there will be even more in the future.”

Cheongmu cocked his head, then turned his eyes again toward the shaded tree he’d been watching this whole time. He nodded a few times, then turned back to Kwak Yeon.

“Young-a says you’re the first person she’s ever seen call the people of Wudang your family. As for the Immortal’s Room, she says she’ll explain more later. Oh, and—ah! She says what happened in there is what’s making your lower belly itch.”

“Please... could you ask her just a little more? About the Immortal’s Room?”

“Young-a’s gone.”

“......!”

Kwak Yeon couldn’t hide his disappointment.

Whenever Cheongmu had no more questions of his own, Young-a always seemed to disappear.

But then—

“Ugh, if Young-a’s right, this ginseng is useless.”

That offhand remark confused Kwak Yeon all over again.

It didn’t sound like the idle muttering of someone talking to himself—it sounded like he was genuinely conversing with someone.

He remembered the first time Cheongmu had ever mentioned Young-a.

It had been when he was deep in training, practicing Nine Palace Palm in the clearing among the pine trees, trying everything to stir his stagnant energy.

—Crash!

Pushing too hard with a technique that still wasn’t responding, he lost control of a movement and dropped a stone block, snapping the branches of several young pines nearby.

While smearing mud onto the wounded bark to protect the trees, Cheongmu had suddenly appeared and said:

“Kwak Yeon. Young-a’s wondering what you’re doing right now.”

“Brother Cheongmu, who’s Young-a?”

“Don’t you see her right there? Oh, wait—she told me not to talk about her.”

“......?”

“I’m sorry, Young-a! Don’t leave. No, really—I swear, I won’t talk about you to anyone but Kwak Yeon. Promise!”

That was when Kwak Yeon realized Cheongmu was beginning to show signs of something troubling.

He thought the condition would pass with time, and not wanting to startle him, he played along.

“Tell Young-a I’m helping the pine trees heal because I hurt them.”

“Ah, you’re treating the trees. You hear that, ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) Young-a?”

“......”

“She’s asking who taught you to do that.”

The way Cheongmu perked up his ears, like a child listening intently to a friend’s whisper, tugged at Kwak Yeon’s chest.

“No one taught me. I just thought if I left their wounds open, they might rot in the rain or attract bugs. Please tell her that.”

Cheongmu glanced once more at the shaded clearing, then said:

“Young-a says you’re a strange one.”

Looking back on it now, it was strange how Cheongmu had opened up—speaking his innermost thoughts through the made-up character of Young-a.

‘Have I just gotten used to this... this division of personality?’

Kwak Yeon sighed inwardly.

He was worried about Cheongmu. If he left in this state, what would become of him?

No matter what decision he made, it felt like the worst possible one.

Every day was its own kind of torment.

And so, ten days passed in helpless silence.

“Have you come to a decision?”

Daoist Hyehae’s voice broke the stillness. Kwak Yeon straightened his posture.

“Yes, I have.”

“Well then—which path have you chosen?”

“No matter how hard I try... I can’t give up on the dream of martial cultivation.”

Daoist Hyehae’s gaze dimmed.

“Why are you so attached to martial cultivation?”

“Because I want to protect with my own strength.”

“Protect what?”

Hyehae’s question was earnest.

Kwak Yeon fell silent for a moment. He had always just vaguely said “family,” never having defined what exactly he wanted to protect.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then you’re saying... whatever it may be in the future, you want to protect it with your own strength?”

“That’s right.”

His eyes burned with quiet resolve.

Snap.

In Hyehae’s heart, he felt the last strand of hope break.

He had found a rare vessel of the Way—a beopgi—but one already filled to the brim.

Worse still, it was filled with molten iron, hardened and set.

And the boy looked ready to pour even more of that red-hot metal into himself.

Such a vessel would always clash with the path of the Immortal Line—a path that required a lifetime of emptiness.

For both Three Spirits Palace and for the boy’s own sake, it was best to part ways quickly.

“I will respect your choice.”

Hyehae broke the heavy silence.

“The teachings you received as a disciple of Wudang will become the foundation of your future. Since all you’ve learned are the widely known basic disciplines and fundamental techniques, there is nothing for Wudang to reclaim from you. Leave the mountain and follow your own path.”

Even in the face of such a final decision, Kwak Yeon’s gaze did not waver.

“I’ll inform the Registration Hall of your departure, so leaving Mount Wudang shouldn’t be too difficult.”

His face remained calm, but inside, his chest felt as if it were being torn apart.

‘I’m not being thrown out. This is my decision.’

Even if it was forced upon him—it was still, in the end, his choice.

“Cheongmu is at Spirit Energy Cliffs. Pack your things and leave without delay.”

Kwak Yeon briefly considered telling Hyehae about Cheongmu’s condition—but held back.

He had promised to keep Young-a a secret.

Everyone has a weight they must carry on their own.

His bundle had already been packed before he left his quarters—there was nothing left to do now but walk away.

“Take this with you as well.”

Daoist Hyehae handed him a small envelope.

“Daoist Hyeonin left it in your name. There’s no need to refuse.”

Inside were several vouchers.

Kwak Yeon felt a lump rise in his throat.

“It’s... too much.”

Daoist Hyehae shook his head.

“It was becoming a burden. Wealth only disturbs the purity of a Daoist hall. You know the way down—I won’t see you off.”

Kwak Yeon bowed his head deeply to Daoist Hyehae.

The elder pressed his palms together in quiet return.

It was the sign that their connection had come to an end.

Holding back tears, Kwak Yeon stepped out of Purity Hall.

He picked up the small bundle he had left outside Spirit Heart Hall.

The sight of dry ginseng leaves sticking out of the cloth brought tears rushing to his eyes.

It was the “grandfather ginseng” Daoist Cheongmu had dug up just a few days earlier.

“Either way, this one’s yours, Kwak Yeon. It’ll be good for your body.”

He couldn’t leave it behind.

Once he left Mount Wudang, he would need travel funds immediately.

—step, step

Crossing the courtyard, Kwak Yeon came to stand before Azure Cloud Bridge.

Once he crossed that bridge, there would truly be no going back.

‘My ties to Mount Wudang end here.’

He could still remember the day Martial Instructor Hadongjo led him up the mountain, and they looked up at Wudang for the first time.

It felt like yesterday.

Like waking from a long dream, every memory came flooding back.

Getting absorbed in meridian theory in the school’s archive; the kindness of Assistant Lee Jongsam, the library steward, who had taken notice of his passion.

‘Actually, it all began with the Complete Treatise on Health and Cultivation he lent me.’

His late-night discussions with Seok Jangsan about martial theory would often spiral into wild, cosmic-level martial fantasies. They’d laugh and argue about whose invented techniques were more ridiculous.

‘We were just a pair of fledglings, but the dreams we dreamed were enormous.’

Watching firewood burn beside Elder Jang’s stove. The school exams, when the kids all broke incense together in solidarity.

The gruff concern of Assistant So Jin-sam.

The thunderous applause from instructors and staff the day he left the academy.

Training with the Yeongmu Hall disciples, standing shoulder to shoulder and managing to humble even the proud heirs of noble clans.

All the hardship had faded from his mind—only the good memories remained.

‘Yeah. That’s what home really is.’

Which made his heart ache even more.

Because now, Wudang was no longer his home.

‘If I stand around too long, and Daoist Cheongmu comes... it’ll only make things harder for both of us.’

This wasn’t running away. So it wasn’t breaking their promise.

Just as Kwak Yeon was about to place his foot on Azure Cloud Bridge—

“Hah! Truly a strange one, you are.”

An old, scratchy voice rang out from behind.

“I tossed you such a tasty rice cake, and you refused it without a second thought. Tsk, tsk!”

When he turned, a gaunt old Daoist with hair white as snow was seated on a boulder beside the path.

‘Since when was he there?’

There’d been no one when he passed by earlier.

‘And what rice cake did he supposedly give me?’

Kwak Yeon had never seen this Daoist before.

“May I ask who you are, Elder?”

Even though he was leaving, this man had come to Three Spirits Palace—he still needed to show respect.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“Forgive me, but I don’t recall ever meeting you.”

“You’ve met me three, no—four times at least, and now you pretend not to know?”

Kwak Yeon stared, baffled.

This was ridiculous. What kind of nonsense accusation was this?

“I truly have no memory of meeting you.”

“Tsk, tsk. You only look at the world with the eyes of the flesh. The road ahead of you is long indeed.”

“......?”

“Well, unlike that Cheongmu child, your heart isn’t exactly pure. Still, I figured you had enough wit to recognize a few things if I dropped some hints.”

The words felt like a riddle, and they sent a chill down Kwak Yeon’s spine.

He was suddenly reminded of what Cheongmu had said: “Young-a says you’re a really strange one.”

“Hah! Truly a strange one, you are.”

And then—the rice cake tossed in front of him.

‘Could it be... was he talking about the Immortal’s Room?’

Kwak Yeon’s eyes widened as he stared at the old Daoist.

‘Then Young-a... could she be this old man?’

The elder smiled faintly.

“Looks like your eyes are finally starting to open.”

“......!”

“Then... do you recognize who I am now?”

The old Daoist of Three Spirits Palace!

He had heard whispers that the Palace Lord had reached a state halfway between human and immortal, and now wandered the realm of no-mind.

Back then, he’d thought it was just a poetic way to describe someone who had abandoned worldly attachments.

“I pay my respects, Palace Lord.”

“Oh, cut it out with the formalities, child. Hurry and give me a hand, would you? It’s been far too long since I played the role of host, and this old body isn’t used to it anymore.”