Wudang Sacred Scriptures

“It’s that boy who goes by the Taoist name Hyeonmu,” Grand Elder Yunhak Jin-in clarified.

Hyun-sang Dojang could hardly believe his ears.

That boy had been so thoroughly forgotten—no one had even spoken of him in years, let alone seen him.

Why now, out of the blue, had he been ordered to check on the boy’s whereabouts?

Yunhak Jin-in watched the retreating back of his disciple with a faint furrow of concern, hoping his suspicions were baseless.

It was because of the closing lines of the Martial Alliance’s military reply.

The Demonic Alliance had mentioned a “young cave-dwelling Taoist from Mount Wudang” in their explanation to the Martial Alliance.

Wudang’s dispatched investigation team to Geyang-hyeon had been unable to uncover the full scope of the Zhengwuguan incident. All members had perished, and the Black Snake Gang—central to the conflict—had been wiped out as well.

Yet here came this sudden mention, in the Demonic Alliance’s own letter, of a cave-dwelling Taoist from Wudang. They even claimed he had displayed formidable martial prowess.

Though they gave no specifics about his level, the mere fact that they had sent the Black Execution Unit after him meant he had to be at or near the apex.

In any case, only one face surfaced in Yunhak Jin-in’s mind when thinking of a young cave-dwelling Taoist with martial prowess—and it left him no choice but to confirm.

“Of course, there is no martial cultivation in the Three Spirits Palace. It’s nonsense on its face,” he thought.

No doubt, the Demonic Alliance had fabricated the tale to deflect blame.

And yet... why did that boy continue to linger in his mind?

****

—Knock, knock, knock!

At the Jangchun Guesthouse in Shimjeong-hyeon, the attendant Mo Oh-sam tapped on the door of the third-floor special suite. As he had for the past four days, he knocked while casually walking past.

He assumed the room would be empty, as usual.

But then—

“I’d like to place an order for a meal.”

Mo Oh-sam, already a step past the door, whirled around and pushed it open.

“Good heavens! Taoist-nim, when did you return—? Wait...!”

He stopped short, stunned by what the man was wearing.

Kwak Yeon spoke with a faint smile.

“I’ve returned to secular life. After a recent journey into the world, I found it far more... flavorful than the mountains.”

The light in Mo Oh-sam’s face grew instantly warmer.

“Well, of course! What can one know of the world, stuck up in a mountain not tasting its bitterness or sweetness? Ah—but no offense meant to the Taoist of old! We know your cultivation was always for the good of the world.”

Kwak Yeon smiled gently.

“It’s all right. This time, I’ve come to understand just how right you were. And here—this is payment in advance for ten more days.”

“Ten days? You’ll be staying that long?”

At his look of surprise, Kwak Yeon replied calmly,

“I plan to take some time... to think carefully about what to do with my life. Watching the people pass through the marketplace should help.”

“Ah! Not a bad idea at all. You’ll see all sorts—each with their own path—and maybe something will call out to you.”

“Brother Mo, you should also help me figure out what path suits me.”

“Brother Mo...?”

“I’ve shed my Taoist robes. That makes you my elder now, doesn’t it?”

“Oh no, please don’t say that! You may be out of robes, but you’re still the guest, and I’m still the innkeep. Let’s not turn everything upside down. Now then, let me take your order.”

“I’ve eaten poorly the past few days. I keep thinking about that Fresh Stir-fried Beef with Green Onions I had before.”

“I’ll pester the cook until he brings it straight out.”

As Mo Oh-sam turned to leave, he paused.

“Ah—by the way, did you find your cousin?”

“Strangely enough, I heard he came back not long after I left my hometown.”

“Oh, thank heavens for that. I’ll have your meal prepared at once.”

As the door shut behind him, Kwak Yeon stepped into the shaded light by the window.

The atmosphere around Seongha Sangbang had not changed in any obvious way.

The merchant group sent out for overland trade had yet to return, and no notable news had surfaced.

The mine laborers had taken their silver bars and scattered—each returning to their home villages.

Kwak Yeon hadn’t revealed his name to them. He had let them believe he was an officer from the Provincial Governor of Hunan.

He had told them that the soldiers who’d come with him had gone ahead to hunt down remnants—so they wouldn’t think it strange.

To think that a lone military aide had single-handedly purged the evildoers within the palisade? That would be the true absurdity.

He had also asked them to keep everything quiet, for now, saying the true culprits had yet to be arrested by the authorities.

But with so many mouths involved, it was hard to believe the secret would stay safe forever.

Through interrogating Overseer So Seok-ha, Kwak Yeon had learned that Jeon Yu, the head of Seongha Sangbang, knew the true identity of the masterminds.

So Seok-ha had claimed complete ignorance of how the silver bars from the mine were handled—that it was all taken care of by the head himself.

A convenient way to maintain secrecy... and to cut loose any tails, should it become necessary.

If the head, like the masked Commander, chose suicide—or simply kept his mouth shut—uncovering the true culprits would become nearly impossible.

Thus, Kwak Yeon had ruled out the idea of arresting the head directly.

He knew that the moment the true villains sensed trouble, they would eliminate the head first—to erase the tail before it wagged.

That was why he had returned to the Jangchun Guesthouse.

“They won’t want to escalate the situation. They’ll aim only to silence the one man who knows their secrets.”

And if they went further... they might even target his immediate family.

“If they send multiple assassins, it’ll get messy. Keeping it quiet would be difficult.”

After finishing his meal, Kwak Yeon stepped out into the bustling marketplace and visited a blacksmith’s shop.

“I need needles. About the size used for embroidery would be ideal.”

As a Daoist, he hadn’t been fond of using hidden weapons. But in this case, adaptation was necessary.

****

It had been years since Hyun-sang Dojang had last seen Taoist Hyeon-hae, and now that he did, he couldn’t help but note how much the man had aged.

But after just a brief encounter, he realized it wasn’t just physical.

There was essence to him now—a presence that radiated cultivation.

And it wasn’t simply the authority of being a Palace Lord of the First Palace.

It meant his inner discipline had reached great depths.

Hyun-sang felt an unshakable pressure rising within himself. Though he had reached no small level in martial study, something in him shrank before the man.

“Heh. So this ‘cave-dwelling Taoist’ isn’t one to be underestimated.”

As he wrestled with his thoughts, Hyeon-hae asked quietly,

“Dojang Hyun-sang, what brings you here?”

He couldn’t exactly blurt out his true reason, so Hyun-sang chose a roundabout path.

“Must there be a reason? I thought I’d pay my respects to my Senior Brother the Palace Lord and look in on how Three Spirits Palace is faring.”

Taoist Hyeon-hae, long used to the Hye-gak Institute’s disinterest in the Three Spirits Palace, gave no sign of emotion at the polite lie.

“Well then, now that you’ve come, how do you find it?”

“There’s a liveliness here now that I didn’t see during the previous Palace Lord’s time. Not that I mean the past was lacking, of course.”

“I intend to take this place in a different direction than our master did. Accept more disciples, too. I’m even considering rebuilding a few halls—if the Institute would offer its support.”

“Well then, you should attend a Palace Lords’ meeting. With their decision, anything can be arranged.”

“In that case, I’ll make my way down in due time.”

“May I ask—what inspired such a change in direction?”

The question was little more than polite curiosity.

And yet—

“It’s thanks to Master’s completion of this palace’s great task,” said Taoist Hyeon-hae, “that this unworthy disciple now has a bit of freedom.”

“A great task?” Hyun-sang Dojang blinked. “What task is that?”

“There was one. You’ll come to understand in due time, Brother Hyun-sang.”

It sounded utterly absurd.

To Hyun-sang, it was the usual cloud-chasing nonsense—sitting in a cave, claiming to cultivate the Way, while spouting vague philosophies.

Feigning casual curiosity, he asked, “Are the disciples of the Three Spirits Palace all well? On the way here, I noticed only a few young ones wandering about.”

“They’re all safe and sound,” Hyeon-hae replied.

“And how is Brother Hyeonmu?”

Taoist Hyeon-hae’s eyes grew still and deep.

“Tell me, Brother Hyun-sang. What is it that you truly wish to know?”

“You once said Brother Hyeonmu would carry the martial lineage... so I wondered...”

“He continues his martial studies.”

“Would it be possible for me to meet him? I’ve long been curious how far he’s progressed in these years.”

“He’s currently training in seclusion elsewhere. So no, that wouldn’t be possible. I’ll tell him to visit once his training ends. That should suffice, no?”

Hyun-sang’s face flushed.

It was clear who that message was meant for.

Still, hearing that Kwak Yeon was away training elsewhere gave Hyun-sang a sense of relief.

It never even occurred to him that “elsewhere” might not be on Mount Wudang.

As he walked through the courtyard of Three Spirits Palace, Hyun-sang couldn’t help but wonder—why was his master so fixated on that boy?

Just then, he caught sight of Taoist Cheong-mu crossing the Azure Cloud Bridge, carrying a bundle of firewood.

“Ah! Uncle Hyun-sang, it’s been a while!”

Cheong-mu hadn’t changed much—except perhaps that age had added some weight to his frame.

“Yes, Brother Cheong-mu. It’s been a while indeed.”

“Hehe, I’d bow properly but I’ve got this load. Don’t scold me, please.”

“Carry on however you like.”

Every time he came here, Three Spirits Palace gave him a headache.

Best to leave as quickly as possible.

He had already crossed half the Azure Cloud Bridge when the thought ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) struck him—

Why not just ask Cheong-mu where Hyeonmu is training?

“Cheong-mu!”

But the man was already halfway across the courtyard.

“Yes?” he called back, turning abruptly and swaying under the firewood.

“Whoops!”

Cheong-mu fumbled to collect the spilled wood—but when he looked back toward the bridge, Hyun-sang Dojang was gone.

“Huh? Did I just see a ghost or something? I swear I heard someone call me...”

Still frazzled, Cheong-mu returned to his task, unaware that Hyun-sang had already left the bridge.

Hyun-sang reported to his master that Kwak Yeon was still in Three Spirits Palace.

And so, Grand Elder Yunhak Jin-in, seeing that the Demonic Alliance’s explanation had indeed been nothing but a cunning ruse, was enraged—and began accelerating the formation of the Pursuit Unit.

****

At last—they came.

It was on the third day of Kwak Yeon’s watch over Seongha Sangbang.

In the dim glow of pre-dawn, they slipped over the outer wall.

The very moment they appeared, Kwak Yeon had already leapt silently through the guesthouse window.

The intruders moved without hesitation through the compound. Two stopped outside the head chamber, while one entered.

Inside, the figure looked down at Jeon Yu, the head of Seongha Sangbang, sleeping soundly.

Such an easy mark—he nearly yawned.

Still, this was a top-priority assassination target. Carelessness was not an option.

The order had been clear: pierce the heart and sever the neck. Then ransack the chamber to make it look like a burglary and disappear. Simple enough.

There were other steps to take, some of which would require the help of his two companions waiting outside—but the most important thing was ensuring the target’s death.

There was no other presence in the room aside from Jeon Yu’s calm, sleeping breath.

His sensing ability had never failed him. Confident, the assassin moved in.

He drew a pitch-black dagger and pressed it gently against Jeon Yu’s chest, aligning it with the heart.

Then, slowly—he pushed.