Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Kwak Yeon looked at Chwi Dugae with eyes full of expectation.

“Master says that’s probably the case.”

At Chwi Dugae’s answer, Kwak Yeon let out a breath of relief inwardly.

Ah!

At last, he knew whom the Supreme Patriarch wished him to meet, and where to go to find him.

“Thank you—truly.”

When Kwak Yeon offered thanks, Chwi Dugae slid in a question.

“Brother Kwak, then you mean to try the Martial Alliance?”

“I’ll stop by Mount Wuyi and then go straight there.”

“I knew you would.”

Chwi Dugae nodded and, his face a shade brighter, went on.

“The truth is, I have to go to the Martial Alliance too.”

“For what, Brother?”

“Master told me to go.”

“...?”

“You’ve been busy, so you won’t have heard. The Martial Alliance is opening an All-Under-Heaven Heroes Assembly.”

Kwak Yeon knew that now and then, tourneys were held in the rivers and lakes, so he wasn’t much surprised.

Being hosted by the Martial Alliance, he thought, the scale would be immense.

“Ah, then you’ll be attending as the Beggar Clan’s representative?”

“At my age, what business do I have playing hero?”

Chwi Dugae shook his head and lowered his voice.

“According to Master, something called the Martial World Pact has been struck. So the Heroes Assembly is the pretext; the reality is they’re gathering to set that, and our Beggar Clan can’t simply stand by, so he told me, a Senior Beggar, to go take a look. Hooah!”

He heaved a deep sigh and grumbled.

“That old man—works his disciple to the bone.”

At the words “Martial World Pact,” Kwak Yeon wondered if it might be connected to the baleful qi Unseon Taoist had spoken of, and asked:

“Brother, do you know what that Pact is?”

“It’s a fine-sounding name for one thing—grabbing land.”

“Grabbing land?”

“It means divvying up spheres among the martial factions. Even if you’ve spent your time training in the mountains, as a disciple of the Wudang Sect you can’t be unaware how jealous the sects are of their spheres.”

“That is so.”

Of course Kwak Yeon knew.

He knew that the aim of the Wudang Sect’s outer schools, once established to train outside warriors, had turned into expanding Wudang’s sphere.

“In the martial world, none can step outside the grand rule: the strong remain. The strong even get to proclaim what is righteous. If a trainee dislikes living under that rule, leave the school at once.”

When Senior Instructor Kang Ik-yu urged the trainees that way, Kwak Yeon had winced, like a thief’s feet pricked by his own guilt.

“All this while, disputes—open and hidden—have been frequent over jurisdiction between orthodox sects. The Martial Alliance has worn itself out trying to mediate.”

At Chwi Dugae’s words, Kwak Yeon winced again.

Since the Grand Elder took the lead of Wudang, in overreaching to widen their sphere, they had earned resentment not only from the demonic path but even from orthodox martial men.

“In truth, there’s nothing fiercer, nothing where men yield less, than a fight over rice bowls. Even we affectionate beggars of the Beggar Clan—half our labor is brawling daily over the bowls of food we scrounge.”

Kwak Yeon doubted the depth of Beggar Clan affection—but he agreed with the phrase “fight over rice bowls.”

A sect’s sphere was the rice bowl of the lay disciples.

Moreover, he had personally tasted the tragedy born of those fights.

He had chanced into the quarrel between Wudang’s lay-house, the Martial Arts Hall, and the Black Shrine of the Alliance of the Demonic Path.

Chwi Dugae asked, out of the blue:

“Brother Kwak, do you know the best way to settle a fight over rice bowls?”

“I couldn’t say. My ken is shallow; I know nothing of such statecraft.”

Thanks to Grand Scholar Seol Junghyu’s teaching in Sangjeon Village, Kwak Yeon had come to grasp how vital the rice bowl is. He suspected half the world’s troubles arise from it.

So he called it statecraft.

“It’s only a talk about rice bowls—why drag in grand words like ‘statecraft’? Typical Taoist—hidebound.”

Not knowing Kwak Yeon’s mind, Chwi Dugae clicked his tongue and continued:

“In our Beggar Clan, first we collect every bowl and mix them together. Then we have them eat one mouthful at a time.”

“......”

“There are still complaints, of course. The sorest one is the man who begged the most. So we let them raise spoons in order of who brought back the most. On days when there’s even a few pieces of meat, they end up his share—so he stops grousing, and the rest, at least not starving, soon enough are all grins and chatter again.”

Chwi Dugae smiled and went on:

“It may not suit your palate, but it’s roughly like this Martial World Pact.”

“So the sects have agreed that, by standards set at this Heroes Assembly, they will redraw spheres.”

“That’s right.”

“As you said—fights over rice bowls—getting the sects to agree must have been hard. It’s remarkable.”

If disputes among the sects were stilled by agreement, nothing could be better.

“Honestly, it is remarkable.”

Nodding, Chwi Dugae spoke with a bitter look.

“Only, the method set by that standard is... rather brutal. Granted, without something on that order, it would’ve been hard to exact agreement from the high-nosed sects—so I understand it.”

Since earlier, Kwak Yeon had been curious about that standard; he asked at once:

“What is the standard?”

“They say spheres will be reset according to the recorded military merit in subjugating the Demonic Eight Divisions.”

“The Martial Alliance has decided to subjugate the Demonic Eight Divisions?”

Startled, Kwak Yeon asked in succession:

“Do you know why?”

He wondered if it might be tied to the baleful qi troubling the realm, prompting the Alliance’s sudden decision.

“This is something people hush up, but a little over ten years ago there was a prison break from the Martial Alliance’s dungeon. That very prison held demonic leaders seized during the Great Upheaval of the Eight Desolations. Those who escaped then rebuilt the Demonic Eight Divisions and began to rampage.”

“I had heard the Demonic Eight Divisions were on the move again.”

“The Martial Alliance resolved to root them out before they grew further—and chose to issue a general mobilization to the orthodox world. The problem was, the sects were lukewarm.”

Lack of cooperation from the sects was a chronic ailment of the Martial Alliance.

“So the Alliance’s Chief Strategist put forward the solution of the Martial World Pact. The sects had been tiptoeing, lacking justification, about widening their spheres; they cried ‘just so!’ and welcomed it with both hands.”

In other words, the orthodox sects moved not for the rite of great righteousness, but for the cake called sphere.

“In any case, that Chief Strategist is a clever one. With the Pact, he can sweep the Demonic Eight Divisions and also dampen quarrels among the orthodox—killing two birds with one stone. Well—that’s why he holds the office. Of course...”

“...?”

“There are things even that fine head hasn’t solved.”

Seeing Chwi Dugae glance at him as he said this, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Kwak Yeon realized he was laying the ground.

“Brother, what is there to hold back between us? Speak plainly.”

“I can’t match your eye, Brother Kwak.”

Shaking his head, Chwi Dugae went on:

“The whole orthodox world did not consent to this Pact. Two great sects opposed it.”

From Chwi Dugae’s vexed eyes, Kwak Yeon could tell one of the two was the Wudang Sect.

“One of them is Wudang, then?”

“Right. The other is Shaolin.”

“...?”

“They say Wudang and Shaolin objected that it’s wrong for the orthodox to shed blood first—but everyone knows that’s only a fig leaf for opposition. Between them, they hold half of Zhongyuan.”

Kwak Yeon recalled Grand Elder Unhak Zhenren’s obstinacy and agreed inwardly.

Grand Elder Unhak Zhenren had expanded Wudang’s sphere to its greatest extent ever. To assent to the Pact would be to lay down that very achievement.

“Even so, Shaolin has decided to send lay disciples to the Heroes Assembly. They judged that merely standing by might cost them. Those bald monks turn their wits better than the horse-faced Taoists.”

Grumbling, Chwi Dugae started and said:

“Brother Kwak, I don’t mean to insult Wudang. The sect must have its reasons...”

“It’s all right.”

“Hm?”

“Though it is my sect, if there is cause for reproach, I think it should be received. Only then can faults be known and mended.”

Chwi Dugae smiled gently.

“Rightly said! That’s why I like you. You’re not like those musty horse-faces.”

“Still, saying ‘horse-face’ about Taoists in front of me is a bit much.”

“Hmph! For that I apologize. Your preceptors and seniors are Taoists, after all.”

With an abashed laugh, Chwi Dugae grew serious again.

“Be that as it may, for such reasons I think you may find it awkward at the Martial Alliance. And with several sects—in particular the Jegal Family—you’re on uneasy terms.”

Kwak Yeon had thought the same since hearing the Assembly would open. Of all times, he would be going to the Alliance at a delicate moment.

At the same time, a part of him had hoped to see his seniors and juniors on Mount Wudang. Hearing that Wudang had decided not to attend, that hope vanished.

“Even so, I cannot forgo going.”

“Of course.”

Chwi Dugae nodded readily.

“Who could best your stubbornness?”

“But why are you going, Brother? You said the Beggar Clan’s policy is not to take part in the Alliance.”

“The Pact is none of our concern—but the subjugation of the Demonic Eight Divisions is an affair of the orthodox as a whole. As one of them, we can’t simply stand aside—we go to support.”

“Then you’ll be leading the Beggar Clan’s support contingent?”

“What contingent—I’ll only be passing along what intelligence I pick up. Master threatened me thoroughly not to overstep my station or I’d get killed—my ears have scabbed over.”

“......”

“In any case, as far as the Martial Alliance, I can travel with you.”

For Kwak Yeon, going with a Senior Beggar of the Beggar Clan could only help—especially in meeting Elder Begs-for-All.

“They say the Heroes Assembly runs a full month, so there’s no need to rush. We won’t be late even if we take our ease and tour the rivers and lakes.”

Chwi Dugae was delighted at the thought of stripping this patron down to the bone. He had seen that the money pouch Kwak Yeon had set aside to bathe was well stuffed.

“We’ll stop only at the most expensive winehouses and live in style.”

It would balm his pride to take revenge that way for the stigma of “golden beggar.”

As he carefully picked, in his mind, the famous winehouses along the road to the Alliance, Kwak Yeon said:

“Then I’ll go pay a call on the Wuyi Sect tomorrow and return.”

“Brother Kwak, let this elder brother come too. Since we’re here, I’d like to see the Wuyi Sect.”

Chwi Dugae needed a pretext—he couldn’t risk letting this patron slip away.

For a man who loathed temples and cloisters, no less.

He could not, for the life of him, understand people who labored up to such harsh places that served nothing but plain greens and bitter water.