Wudang Sacred Scriptures

At Kwak Yeon’s question, Elder Jo Cheon-yang replied.

“Two days from now, at Baekyang Hermitage on Gunsan Island.”

“Two days from now, Baekyang Hermitage...”

Chwi Dugae, reading the expression on Kwak Yeon’s face as he repeated the words, spoke up.

“Wait—don’t tell me you’re planning to go there...?”

When Kwak Yeon nodded as if it were the obvious thing to do, Chwi Dugae asked,

“But only Hao Clan Elders are allowed to attend the meeting, right? The Clan Leader and Vice Branch Leader won’t be present. So why would you bother...?”

Kwak Yeon shook his head.

“It’s not necessarily so.”

“Huh?”

“They’ve placed assassins at every major route—but still, nothing is certain. There’s no way they wouldn’t also prepare for contingencies at the Gunsan meeting site. Paranoids like them wouldn’t leave themselves exposed, no matter how secure the location might seem.”

Jo Cheon-yang, who had been listening to the conversation, interjected.

“What Daoist Kwak says is absolutely correct.”

As Kwak Yeon and Chwi Dugae turned to look at him, Jo Cheon-yang continued in a subdued voice.

“I learned just earlier at Cheongseok Pagoda that the Vice Branch Leader has already laid out some scheme for this Elder Council meeting.”

Jo Cheon-yang then conveyed, without embellishment, what he had heard from Gok Ji-ryang, the Vice Branch Leader’s close confidant.

Having heard the full story, Kwak Yeon turned to Chwi Dugae.

“Rear Beggar, we now have a clear reason to go.”

Chwi Dugae nodded.

“You’re right. If that’s the plan, then the Vice Branch Leader will have no choice but to show himself.”

After a brief moment of thought, Kwak Yeon addressed Jo Cheon-yang.

“I’d like to ask the Elder one thing.”

“Ask anything.”

“Was it you who chose Dongting Lake’s Gunsan Island as the location for the meeting?”

“Any Elder can convene a meeting, but the location is always decided by the Senior Elder. This time as well... surely not... the Senior Elder...?”

Kwak Yeon spoke without hesitation.

“An isolated island in the middle of Dongting Lake, surrounded by water, and now layered with the danger of conspiracy—it’s rather a strange coincidence, don’t you think?”

“But the Senior Elder...”

To the doubtful Jo Cheon-yang, Kwak Yeon responded firmly.

“I’ve heard that Im Saeng, the current Clan Leader, once rose to Vice Branch Leader thanks to the deep trust of Baek Munju. If that’s the case, is it wise to trust the Senior Elder so blindly?”

Jo Cheon-yang lowered his head in despair.

“Ah... how did the Hao Clan fall to such a state...”

Seeing the pale-faced old man drowning in guilt, Kwak Yeon spoke calmly.

“There’s no need for Elder Jo to grieve. It only proves how meticulous the forces behind the Vice Branch Leader are.”

Jo Cheon-yang abruptly raised his head.

“You’re saying there’s someone behind the Vice Branch Leader?”

“Where do you think he learned a demonic technique that allows him to kill without leaving a single trace?”

Chwi Dugae chimed in as well.

“Elder Jo, this incident doesn’t concern only the Hao Clan. There’s no reason to feel ashamed. And as for us Beggars’ Guild folks, think of us as taking part in the cleansing of the martial world’s shadows.”

“Rear Beggar... thank you. I will gratefully accept your help.”

Suddenly feeling awkward, Chwi Dugae diverted the subject and turned to Kwak Yeon.

“Anyway, how exactly do you plan on attending the Hao Clan’s Elder Council?”

“That part...”

Kwak Yeon looked toward Jo Cheon-yang and continued.

“I’ll need the Elder’s assistance.”

Jo Cheon-yang said,

“There’s only one path up to Baekyang Hermitage on Gunsan Island. Each Elder is permitted to bring one escort, and they’ve agreed to jointly guard the entrance.”

Kwak Yeon spoke.

“Then I’ll accompany the Elder as his escort. And Rear Beggar, I’ll need you to come with us to Gunsan as well.”

“I’ve got no reason not to go—but a Rear Beggar of the Beggars’ Guild can’t just go barging into «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» a Hao Clan event.”

“You won’t be attending the council—you’ll just be delivering a gift.”

“Well, if that’s all... but what kind of gift, all of a sudden?”

“We’ve already got it prepared, don’t we?”

“Prepared? Wait, you mean that rat-faced bastard Suhmyeon Horui?”

“We’ll have to put him in a box and carry him in—discreetly.”

Chwi Dugae, dumbfounded, asked,

“So you want me to carry that guy in a box on my back?”

“I’ll be posing as the escort—there’s no way I can carry anything on my back.”

“Well... that’s true, but... what about someone else...”

As his voice trailed off, Chwi Dugae glanced at Jo Cheon-yang and Gwaa—and his face immediately twisted in dismay.

The dying old man and the child barely in their early teens were in no shape to carry such a load.

“Goddammit.”

****

As expected of the Demonic Cult Alliance’s elite, the Black Death Division operatives fought with everything they had.

Even so, they fell one after another without being able to stop it.

Their opponents were disciples of the Wudang Sect’s main temple—selected elites from each of its palaces.

The Black Death Division operatives experienced firsthand the terrifying mastery of Wudang disciples who had trained in orthodox martial arts with pure precision.

Though both sides counted as first-rate masters, the depth of cultivation and level of discipline were on completely different levels.

If the Wudang disciples were like refined, tempered swords forged through thousands of repetitions, the Black Death operatives were nothing more than dull practice blades.

Moreover, the Wudang disciples had trained in the ancient formations of the True Martial Hall, making them formidable in coordinated battle—a necessity for group combat like this.

That the Black Death Division operatives were collapsing like scattered straw was no surprise.

By the time dawn began to break, only a handful of the Black Death operatives remained standing.

And even that was thanks to the desperate efforts of their Captain, the Blood-Mad Cultist Jeong Seop-bo. Only those near him had barely survived.

Captain Jeong Seop-bo cursed his own judgment.

He had thought they could at least hold their ground. Maybe not win, but at least inflict mutual damage.

His plan had been to blunt Wudang’s spearhead and retreat, hoping to regroup later.

But once the clash began, everything went awry.

They had been scattered across the mountain while scouting, and were caught in a chaotic skirmish almost instantly. The Wudang disciples, each a formidable foe in one-on-one combat, had them outnumbered as well.

In that state, issuing an order to retreat would only lead to death—so he had no choice but to stand his ground.

The result: annihilation.

The Black Death Division, optimized for assassination, was doomed the moment it got surrounded.

Now, only one path remained for Captain Jeong Seop-bo.

A life-and-death duel with Hyeonam Dojang, the leader of Wudang’s Pursuit and Execution Squad.

Death was a certainty—but if he could sever even a single arm of that bastard, he would be satisfied.

“Guhak!”

As the last of his men cried out in death and fell, Jeong Seop-bo stood tall and shouted,

“Hyeonam Dojang! Do you have the courage to cross blades with me?”

Hyeonam Dojang, having just beheaded the final Black Death operative, wiped the blood from his face with his robe’s sleeve and replied,

“That’s what I was hoping for. That’s why I’ve held back from finishing you until now.”

The implication that Hyeonam Dojang had been holding back this whole time sent a surge of fury through Jeong Seop-bo.

At that point, the Demonic Cult Alliance and the Black Death Division no longer mattered to him.

As a martial artist, all Jeong Seop-bo desired was to wash away the disgrace.

“Then step forward.”

Hyeonam Dojang spoke coldly.

“My apologies, but I will not be your opponent.”

“What did you say?”

“Our Wudang Sect trains in the mountains, so opportunities for real combat like this are rare. I brought a disciple with me specifically for this reason—to grant him practical experience.”

Captain Jeong Seop-bo of the Black Death Division felt even more humiliated.

So the reason he had been kept alive until now... was to serve as a training dummy for some disciple?

“You sons of bitches...”

He ground his teeth in fury.

Yet at the same time, a thought crossed his mind.

If he could dismember the precious disciple of that bastard, it would be even more satisfying.

“Fine! Which one of you bastards will take my blade?”

Hyeonam Dojang turned to the Wudang disciples surrounding him and called out.

“Seok Jang-san of Woojin Palace, where are you?”

“Disciple Seok Jang-san, here!”

“I will grant you this special opportunity. Will you take it?”

“This disciple dares not ask but humbly accepts.”

“Then step forward and face this Black Blade.”

Captain Jeong Seop-bo of the Black Death Division smiled when he saw the large young Daoist step forth.

Big frame, sure—but clearly a greenhorn, not even dry behind the ears.

No doubt this was his first real mission, with zero combat experience.

He might be a promising second-generation disciple, but Jeong Seop-bo had survived over a hundred life-and-death duels.

He’d show the brat just how decisive experience could be in true combat.

With death as the price.

“I, Seok Jang-san, second-generation disciple of Woojin Palace, accept the order of the Grand Elder to face you.”

—Chwarang!

As the novice named Seok Jang-san stepped forward, Jeong Seop-bo raised his cherished weapon, the Blood-Maddened Blade, high into the air.

“Come, boy. This will be your grave.”

A red aura gleamed along the Blood-Maddened Blade.

In that instant, Seok Jang-san stepped into True Stance.

—Thoom!

A thunderous boom shattered the dawn.

Seok Jang-san’s form blurred into a haze.

A supreme-level Preemptive Vision of the Grand Supreme!

Captain Jeong Seop-bo barely managed to block Seok Jang-san’s Songmun Sword as it came crashing down right in front of him.

—Jjaang!

As a white flash blazed before his eyes, Jeong Seop-bo realized something.

Seok Jang-san was unleashing True Martial Art—a seamless fusion of internal energy and martial forms.

In the face of True Martial Art, even ten thousand duels were meaningless. No tricks, no luck would avail him.

True Martial Art walked the purest path of martial cultivation, expressing its essence without compromise.

Only now did Jeong Seop-bo understand why none of the other Wudang disciples had objected to letting Seok Jang-san step forward.

So he’s Wudang’s rising divine dragon, acknowledged by them all.

Still, he couldn’t go down like this—not to some fledgling.

He was the Captain of the Black Death Division of the Demonic Cult Alliance.

Even True Martial Art had openings.

If you couldn’t find one—you make one.

Even if it cost you blood.

All he needed was a single opportunity.

Blood Cleave of Brutal Savagery!

A desperate, death-defying strike!

Focusing all of his internal energy into sheer offense, he hurled it through his blade.

The rookie flinched and fell back.

Just as I thought.

Blood Cleave of Brutal Savagery grew more powerful the more the opponent retreated.

Jeong Seop-bo rushed in, compressing his movement to deny any counterattack.

But then—a white wall appeared before him.

What the hell?

His Blood Cleave of Brutal Savagery could rip through ordinary sword energy barriers.

But this was no mere barrier.

There was an actual wall.

—Kkaang!

Sparks burst as the Blood-Maddened Blade was flung skyward.

An overwhelming force he couldn’t control.

The rookie had met his full-force strike head-on.

Then this sudden surge of internal energy—

Jeong Seop-bo immediately leapt back.

As expected, the white barrier dispersed, and the Songmun Sword came slicing down.

Shwaa!

Jeong Seop-bo twisted the Blood-Maddened Blade upward to block.

—Kwaang!

It felt like being struck by a giant log.

The impact was so fierce his internal energy twisted and collapsed inward.

Uwoooong!

Even his lower dantian vibrated.

This isn’t just sword energy.

The rookie was channeling external force too.

Nothing else could explain the resonance of internal energy like this.

Seeing the sword body of the Songmun Sword glowing white, Jeong Seop-bo realized that this Wudang disciple had reached the level of Force Manifestation.

A revelation born at the edge of life and death.

The kid was using him as a sacrifice to break through.

These fucking Wudang bastards. They’re playing me like a joke.

Jeong Seop-bo gritted his teeth and forcibly steadied his disrupted dantian.

I swear—I’ll take at least one of your arms with me.

As the Blood-Maddened Blade remained locked against the Songmun Sword, Jeong Seop-bo twisted it violently.

Sskeok!