Wudang Sacred Scriptures

—Ttak!

The clear, ringing sound of a stone landing on the Go board echoed through the quiet room.

Danmok Seong, Grand Elder of the Danmok Family, watched the black stone Grand Scholar Seol Jung-hyu had just placed, then spoke casually.

“You seem troubled today, Grand Scholar.”

It was plain to see — Seol Jung-hyu had been placing awkward, uneven moves for several turns now, nothing like his usual sharp Go skill.

The Grand Scholar nodded without resistance.

“I haven’t heard a word from Daoist Kwak. I’m starting to think he really did go all the way to the Sang Gwan Family.”

Danmok Seong calmly set down a white stone.

“Didn’t we expect that from him already? That’s why you repeated your advice so many times.”

“I’m worried he won’t listen to what I said. And you, Elder—aren’t you concerned at all?”

Danmok Seong answered without a flicker of hesitation.

“What would I be concerned about?”

“......?”

Seol Jung-hyu looked at him, puzzled. The old man smiled.

“A dragon doesn’t cross a river unless it knows it can.”

He was quoting the saying — a fierce dragon only crosses when it knows it can. In other words, Kwak Yeon went to face the Sang Gwan Family because he believed he could win.

“Elder, are you saying Daoist Kwak’s martial arts are that extraordinary?”

The Grand Scholar looked genuinely startled. Danmok Seong gave a slow nod.

“Yes. They are.”

“But... the Sang Gwan Family is no small fish. It’s a den of tigers.”

“To ordinary men like me, perhaps,” Danmok said with a faint smile.

“......!”

Seol Jung-hyu was stunned.

He didn’t know martial arts, but even he had heard of Danmok Seong — a towering master of the martial world.

And now the man was calling himself ordinary, just to place Daoist Kwak above him?

Danmok Seong saw his expression, chuckled, and added,

“Sang Gwan Eung’s so-called iron will is going to melt like snow in fire. You can stop worrying, Grand Scholar.”

“But still—what if something goes wrong? He’s going in alone...”

Even as Seol Jung-hyu tried to reason with him, Danmok Seong interrupted gently.

“And that’s why you insisted he deliver the letter to the Family Head first, yes?”

“I just wanted to avoid more fighting over the Sangjeon land.”

“Then you clearly don’t know Daoist Kwak as well as you think.”

“......?”

“He didn’t go to hold them accountable. If that were the case, I would’ve done everything I could to stop him — as a martial senior, that would’ve been my duty.”

“Then why did he go...?”

“For something he truly wants.”

“......?”

“You’re not of the martial world, Grand Scholar. You can’t understand what it means for a warrior to meet their match. Even when there’s no reason, they’ll find one. And here? The Family Head practically invited him. Of course he said yes.”

“I see...”

“By now, the Family Head is probably getting torn apart. He’s up against someone far more ruthless than he was in his youth. Just thinking about it clears my mind.”

“Well... if that’s true, then I suppose we can be thankful.”

“We can. So let’s stop talking and focus on the game. It’s not every day I get to play someone who can match me.”

Reassured by the judgment of a master like Danmok Seong, Seol Jung-hyu finally relaxed.

“Thank you, Elder. Truly. For easing my fears—and for taking time to watch over him.”

“I’m not doing it for free. I’ve got a deal with Daoist Kwak.”

“A deal?”

“He said it himself — for men who carry swords, the greatest pleasure is crossing blades with a worthy rival. Think of it like how you scholars never say no to a poetry gathering.”

“Ah!”

At the word poetry, Seol Jung-hyu suddenly understood. A duel wasn’t just a test — it was art.

Feeling lighter, he set another stone down.

—Ttak!

Even before the sound had fully faded, Danmok Seong asked,

“Grand Scholar. Since we’re already on the subject... what did you actually write in that letter you asked him to deliver?”

He was curious. After all, it had been meant to stop bloodshed.

Seol Jung-hyu replied calmly,

“My brushwork is rather poor. The letter ended up a bit chaotic. I’ll explain it all after we finish this match.”

****

Inside the grand hall, now empty save for the two of them, the air had turned sharp. Tense. Silent. Cold.

One of the Twenty-Eight Great Masters of the martial world was about to duel a man in his twenties who had already reached the realm of Flowering Energy.

The silence cracked.

“This duel ground isn’t exactly cramped,” Sang Gwan Eung remarked.

“I’m grateful to be given such a fine stage,” Kwak Yeon replied.

The hall stretched twenty paces in all directions. More than enough.

But what pleased Kwak Yeon more than space was privacy.

There were no onlookers. No spectators. No chance for performance or pretense.

He hadn’t come here for fame.

Sang Gwan Eung nodded, then pointed at the massive plaque hanging high on the central wall.

“That’s the plaque my family has preserved for generations.”

Four golden characters glowed: Sang Gwan Grand Office.

“I chose this place for the duel... because I don’t want to be ashamed in front of those words.”

“I’ll do everything I can not to bring shame to this exchange,” Kwak Yeon replied.

Sang Gwan Eung chuckled.

“You say that like you had a choice.”

“......”

“I saw the level of your Force. That’s why I’ll be using a personal weapon for this match.”

“That’s only right.”

Kwak Yeon’s answer was firm and immediate. Sang Gwan Eung raised an eyebrow.

“Have you heard of the Skyfrost Blade?”

“Grand Elder Danmok once praised it as one of the finest blades in the world.”

A polite deflection — Kwak Yeon remembered well that Danmok Seong had warned him about it.

“The Skyfrost cuts clean through any energy shielding, even sword-Force. You’ll want to be very careful. Not that you seem like the type to dodge.”

There was a strange glint in the old man’s eye.

“And still you’re not backing down. Impressive. Can you tell me where that confidence comes from?”

“If I prove myself worthy, and the moment’s right... I’ll share the answer.”

Sang Gwan Eung stared at him for a long beat — then smiled and nodded.

“You remind me of myself. I used to be reckless too. Once challenged Danmok In-ryong, if you can believe it. He nearly broke me in half. That lesson made me who I am.”

Which meant: Now it’s your turn to learn one.

He stood from his seat.

“We’ve said our piece. Now let our blades speak for us.”

He jumped down from the platform.

“This looks like a good spot.”

Now the space between them was ten paces.

To fighters like them, it might as well have been none.

Shhhk.

As the junior, Kwak Yeon drew first.

The Bluesteel Sword slid free with a whisper.

Sang Gwan Eung followed, drawing the Skyfrost Blade.

Clang.

White light exploded across the hall — then faded.

A blade that shone with its own light.

Kwak Yeon didn’t hesitate. He pulled energy into his sword.

Without proper shielding, even a sword like the Bluesteel could be cut in two.

Hummmm.

A wave of white energy blossomed around # Nоvеlight # the blade, cloaking it in solidified Force.

They were ready.

They stared each other down.

Ten paces apart, but already clashing with their eyes.

Among masters, even that look could be the first strike.

As they summoned their power, the pressure began to show in their gaze.

The Light of Will.

If the difference in power was wide enough, it could crush an opponent without a single move.

Impressive, Sang Gwan Eung thought.

Kwak Yeon’s eyes weren’t just bright — they burned.

That light was internal energy. Pure. Refined.

This much power... and still in his twenties?

I can’t afford even a moment’s slack.

He had planned to fight seriously. Now he committed to everything.

Sure, the Cave Daoist had probably had some lucky breakthrough — but he was still young. That meant his total energy was shallow.

Judging by the pressure, he’s First Grade at best.

Meanwhile, Sang Gwan Eung had cultivated since birth. Elixirs. Rare techniques. The Sang Gwan family’s deepest arts. His energy had grown massive over decades.

Even someone with Force couldn’t just overcome that.

And he had something else: a lifetime of experience.

Your arrogance brought you here. Don’t blame anyone else.

Sang Gwan Eung summoned all five grades of his cultivated energy.

It surged through every vein in his body.

HUMMMM.

The Skyfrost Blade glowed white and hummed low.

Its aura filled the room. The air turned cold.

True to its name — it hadn’t frozen the heavens, but the hall was full of frost.

Ssshhh.

He stepped forward slowly, lowering the blade. His arms settled diagonally, his posture solid, eyes locked ahead.

Stillness Lifting Form.

The moment Kwak Yeon saw it — he froze.

He couldn’t breathe.

It was the first time this had happened since entering the martial world.

Why isn’t it working?

Since his breakthrough in the cave, after mastering the Primordial Harmonious Art, his mind had been clear — like sunlight breaking through a fog.

He could see what his opponent would do before they moved. He had awakened Dynamic Perception.

Every technique, every body movement, every flow of energy — it all formed one vast ocean in his mind.

He had faced dozens of opponents since then.

Some showed ten moves in his head before the first strike.

Even if he didn’t want to win outright, he could follow the sequence in his mind — strike for strike, up to ten exchanges.

Most fights ended in three.

Chwi Dugae had forced only two.

The weaker the opponent, the more clearly the future appeared.

But now?

Now... facing Sang Gwan Eung?

Nothing.

No vision. No flow. No pattern.

Just silence.

Why?