Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Shhrrrk—clank!

The Black Snake Gang thugs, clearly waiting for the cue, drew their blades in unison.

“Ten silver taels to whoever kills that foul-mouthed brat!”

Murderous intent flashed in their eyes.

It wasn’t every day they got to use their swords—and now there was a bounty on the line, too.

“Young Chief, that prize is as good as mine!”

“Don’t make me laugh! I’ve been practicing a secret move from the Thousand Slashes Manual for just this occasion!”

All four goons charged at Kwak Yeon at once, swords slicing the air.

The narrow alley was already surrounded—no room to dodge. Four blades came down on Kwak Yeon almost simultaneously.

Shlick! Slash! Stab! Splatter!

“Ha! My blade was the fastest!”

“Bullshit! I was definitely first!”

“Oh please—that’s my line! Look at that chunk of meat over there. My sword took it clean off!”

“Shit! That chunk’s from my shoulder, you idiot! Argh!”

One thug collapsed to his knees, clutching his shoulder, where bone shone through a fresh, raw wound.

“My bad! Wait, why’s your sword sticking out of my gut—?”

The sword that fell from the first thug’s hand had plunged into another’s belly.

Only now did that second one register the pain. He screamed and dropped to the ground, clutching his abdomen.

“AAAAAARGH!”

The remaining two thugs stared at each other in disbelief, suddenly pale.

They looked down—and realized their hands were empty.

Their wrists were gone.

Blood erupted like fountains from the stumps.

They clutched the air where their hands used to be and screamed in agony.

“AAAAAAHH!”

“GAAAAH!”

At that point, none of them even knew where Kwak Yeon was.

At first, blinded by greed, they had only focused on landing the blow.

Now, they were drowning in pain, no longer aware of anything else.

The only one who’d truly seen what happened was Sa Duyeong.

He saw Kwak Yeon drop backward beneath the flurry of blades, his sleeves flailing wildly.

But to his eyes, it hadn’t looked like some masterful technique—it had just looked like a man flailing in panic, trying to survive.

The attacks, launched too close and too recklessly, had gone wide and landed on the attackers themselves.

“You goddamn morons!”

Sa Duyeong cursed, furious as his henchmen collapsed in a heap of their own blood and stupidity.

He drew his sword himself.

Raising it high, he launched into a technique from the Mountain-Crushing Sword Manual, aiming to cleave Kwak Yeon in two as the lay Daoist stood.

Shwwip!

His sword cut clean through the air—

But then he heard a voice from behind him.

“This is simply the fruit of your own wickedness, Young Chief. Accept it with humility.”

Crack!

A noise like breaking wood echoed from his spine. His lower body went limp. His legs gave out from under him.

Sa Duyeong collapsed backward and stared up at the sky.

He could feel his upper body. But below the waist, there was nothing.

Did... did I just become a cripple?

Kwak Yeon’s face appeared above him, framed against the dim, clouded sky.

“You’ll be relieved to know you aren’t completely ruined. The secret techniques of our palace are rooted in compassion. They wouldn’t be truly Daoist otherwise.”

Sa Duyeong swallowed hard, his face twisted in disbelief.

“If you read the Scripture of Purifying the Heart ten times a day for the next thirty years, you may regain your sensation.”

“...”

“But skip even a single day, and there’s no turning back. Be mindful of that. Then again, you’ll be lying in bed all day from now on, so you’ll have plenty of time.”

Kwak Yeon turned to look at the stunned thugs, their faces ashen, clutching their ruined limbs.

For a moment, he considered severing their remaining tendons as well. But stripping them of even their means of survival felt excessive.

He turned away.

The rest is for Heaven’s net to catch.

He thought of all he had learned from the Azure Dragon Swordsman, Hong Suchun, as he walked out of the alley.

Kwak Yeon considered returning to the inn—but realized that might endanger the others who stayed there.

So instead, he made his way toward the city gate.

The night breeze was still mild. It had been a while since he last slept under the stars. He didn’t mind.

I wonder if the old musician and the girl made it out safely.

Achil was sharp—he would’ve avoided attention while guiding them.

That much concern is enough.

After all, each person must take responsibility for their own life.

****

“I ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) simply don’t understand it.”

Physician Woo Seongjin shook his head after finishing the pulse diagnosis.

“As Your Excellency said, there’s no fracture in the spine. And yet the nerves are severed. I can’t begin to explain it.”

The Black Snake Gang’s Chief, Sagungjin, scowled in fury.

“That’s what Geyang-hyeon’s most renowned physician has to say?”

At the roar of the clan chief, Woo Seongjin collapsed onto the floor, prostrating himself.

“Forgive me, my lord! But this is beyond my ability. Perhaps if we summoned the Divine Hand from the capital... But no one else could hope to treat this.”

“You dare spout nonsense in front of a patient?! What kind of physician says such things aloud?”

Before Sagungjin could erupt further, the gang’s General Overseer, Yi Gwal, stepped in.

“My lord, please—control yourself. Yelling won’t heal the Young Chief’s wounds.”

“Grrrgh...”

A guttural growl escaped Sagungjin’s throat as he forced himself to remain seated.

“Get out of my sight.”

As the trembling physician scrambled to gather his needles and medical kit, Yi Gwal leaned close and muttered to him.

“Woo Seongjin. Keep your mouth shut. If word of the Young Chief’s condition spreads, you’ll disappear without a trace.”

“You need not worry...”

With a pale face, the physician hurried out.

Yi Gwal then turned to his master.

“My lord, it’s clear this wound isn’t something a physician can fix.”

“Then that bastard from the Reclusive Cave—his technique was real?”

“Daoist cultivators are bound by their path—they cannot lie easily. There’s likely truth in what he said.”

“I’ve never heard of a martial technique like that in all my life.”

“Chief, I agree with you... but the world is full of strange and unpredictable things. In any case, the damage is done. What matters now is how to treat it.”

“Did you just say treat it?”

Chief Sagungjin’s eyes flared as he glared at the Overseer.

“There’s only one so-called cure—he has to lie in bed for thirty years reading the Scripture of Purifying the Heart all day, every day. And you call that a treatment fit for a man? Say he actually recovers—he’ll be past sixty by then. Might as well be dead.”

“Chief... the Young Chief is right here.”

“I’ve already struck his sleep acupoint. He can’t hear us. Useless bastard! I told him a hundred times—don’t mess with Wudang disciples!”

Sagungjin ground his teeth audibly, then narrowed his eyes at Yi Gwal.

“Overseer. Are we certain he’s a lay Daoist from the Reclusive Cave?”

“We are. He said it himself—he’s from the Three Spirits Palace. Wudang’s martial artists see that place as an embarrassment, so there’s no reason for him to lie. And the Young Chief described his technique not as martial arts, but sorcery.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Chief... don’t tell me...”

“My son has been crippled.”

He’d fathered that boy late in life and named him Duyeong—a name meant to crown him a future hero. But forget heroism. The boy couldn’t even function as a man now.

“As a father, I can’t let that go.”

“But no matter what we say about his lack of cultivation, he is from Mount Wudang. And we’re already in constant friction with the Zhengwuguan. If we make a move...”

“So long as we don’t lift the knife ourselves, we’ll be fine. What does it matter if a single lay Daoist vanishes during a solitary pilgrimage?”

“Still... I can’t help but feel uneasy. That strange technique he used—”

“That’s why we’ll use a reliable blade. And as it happens, one is already nearby.”

“You’re not talking about... the Divine Night Killer, are you? That man only accepts a single contract—no exceptions.”

Yi Gwal lowered his voice, glancing toward the doors and windows.

“If we do that, the contract we worked so hard to arrange with the Zhengwuguan Lord will be nullified.”

“Overseer, there are always exceptions in matters of sequence. And it’s only natural to act based on what carries the greater weight.”

Sagungjin looked down at his son, still motionless on the bed.

“You may see him as a disappointment, but to me... he’s worth more than all of Black Snake Gang combined.”

And that’s exactly why you ruined him, Yi Gwal thought—but he held his tongue.

“...Understood.”

“Track that bastard quietly. As soon as he’s found, notify the Divine Night Killer for immediate execution.”

“Immediate execution?”

That meant zero delay. The highest priority level of assassination—and the most expensive.

“Even if it costs ten thousand gold taels, I don’t care. I don’t want to breathe the same air as that man—not for one second longer.”

****

The Divine Night Killer, Oh Gwiseong, stood before a fire crackling at the side of a mountain trail, and his mood was foul.

Had it not been for a contract passed down from the Demonic Alliance, he would never have come to such a backwater place. And now they wanted him to kill some no-name lay Daoist from the Reclusive Cave?

And not just kill—execute immediately.

He might be a contract killer, but he still had some pride left as a martial artist.

Just what the hell do these Black Snake bastards think I am?

If not for the heavy pouch of gold tossed to him by that smug Overseer, he might’ve sliced off the gang chief’s head right then and there.

But according to his code, he never accepted the same client twice—so this would be their first and last exchange. He took the gold.

The sooner he took the lay Daoist’s head and left this place, the better it would be for his peace of mind.

Oh Gwiseong approached the man sitting half-asleep by the fire.

He could’ve approached using stealth techniques, as was proper for an assassin—but there was no one else around. They were deep in the mountains. No witnesses. No need for theatrics.

Besides, he figured he might enjoy the look of panic on the man’s face when he realized death had arrived.

...Huh?

Normally, a man would flinch—at the very least react—when an unexpected visitor appeared in the wilderness.

But this one didn’t even open his eyes.

“Well, now...”

Oh Gwiseong clicked his tongue in disbelief.

“I don’t have tea prepared for guests. Apologies.”

“You... were expecting me?”

“Not you specifically.”

“But you were expecting someone?”

Now Oh Gwiseong was truly thrown.

“Then shouldn’t you be running for your life instead of lounging around a campfire? Not that I mind—it saves me the trouble of chasing you down.”

“I figured I’d wait here tonight. It saves me the return trip, too. I was hoping things would go exactly like this.”

That statement chilled him.

He was implying he’d expected a response from the Black Snake Gang—and waited for it.

For the first time, Oh Gwiseong felt the stir of tension in his chest.

This one... is no ordinary Reclusive Cave Daoist.