Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Chapter 186

The place where the Ninth Sword Form should have been recorded was utterly blank.

Kwak Yeon could not make sense of it.

“Could it be that the Heavenly Saber of Pojun never completed it?”

The fact that it was named Falling Star Nine Swords meant that his original conception was certainly for nine forms.

“Most likely, he left the space empty out of regret. If he had truly given up, he would have renamed it the Falling Star Eight Swords.”

It was regrettable that the final form was missing, yet even with only eight forms, it was already a sword art of the world’s highest order.

To fully master all eight would require an immense foundation of inner true qi. Along with training in the Falling Star Nine Swords, he would have to redouble his work in circulating and cultivating qi.

Fortunately, the growth of the Honwonmusang Technique had greatly accelerated his ability to store inner true qi, making this an attainable goal.

Only one thing weighed on him: while traveling, he could only train at night.

But he could not afford to delay the journey toward Mount Wuyi—especially since Chwi Dugae was waiting in Hangzhou.

Thus his days were spent on the road, and his nights devoted to martial training, until before long he ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) found himself atop a high pass.

The view stretched wide and clear, the mountain trail he had climbed spread out beneath him.

Kwak Yeon heightened his vision to see if his pursuer had yet drawn close.

“Hm?”

Beneath the shade of a tree, he caught a faint movement. He unfolded the Solitary Moon Illumines the Boundless Skill.

Swaaah!

A surge of qi, guided by the External Spirit Boundary, streamed outward in a refreshing arc.

At a range of nearly thirty zhang, the movement was caught.

Thump! Thump!

The coarse beat of a heart revealed it to be a beast of the mountains. He had sensed that rhythm before, and upon watching, found it to be a wild boar.

“Is it still too early for the pursuer to have caught up?”

Withdrawing the qi-wave of the Solitary Moon Illumines the Boundless Skill, Kwak Yeon turned back—and then noticed two characters carved into the rock at the bend of the pass.

Jinryeong.

He remembered the merchants’ words: beyond Jinryeong Pass there would be a roadside tent-inn. His face brightened.

“At last, a warm meal. And perhaps, to see people again.”

He was a little startled to realize he had begun to long for human company.

“It seems I’ve grown accustomed to the world.”

The encounters and companionship he had shared along the way had made him familiar with it.

“Perhaps it’s only because I’ve been alone these past days.”

Either way, it was undeniable: he was opening his heart toward the world.

“To advance a step closer to the Boundless Realm, one must break down barriers.”

Hurrying down the pass, Kwak Yeon suddenly felt an ominous presence.

—Caw! Caw!

A flock of crows was quarreling as they swarmed a great tree in the distance.

He ran toward it to uncover the source of the ill-omened aura.

A human corpse was hanging from its branches.

“Ah!”

Even amid the crows, he recognized from the clothing that it was one of the traveling merchants.

Kwak Yeon leapt up to the branch, scattered the crows, and carried the body down.

The corpse, defiled by the birds, was too ghastly to behold.

And yet he could still recognize him as the merchant who had sat with him in the Hengshan inn.

The memory of the man’s bright smile, even while bearing a heavy pack-frame, made Kwak Yeon’s chest collapse in grief.

With that merciless sorrow came a surge of volcanic rage.

Not content merely to kill, the murderer had hung the corpse from a tree.

“Who could have done this...?”

The body had not climbed there by itself. Someone had deliberately placed it in that position.

And that someone had to be the killer.

Judging from the height of the branches, it was surely the work of a martial artist trained in lightness skill.

“But why would a martial artist slay a merchant?”

The unspoken rule of the martial world was never to harm common folk.

It was that very principle that allowed the martial world to exist apart yet still belong to the realm under Heaven. It was also why the authorities refrained from intervening in martial affairs.

Any martial man who harmed civilians was despised not only by the orthodox sects but also by the unorthodox and the demonic.

And yet, here a warrior had murdered a merchant and raised his corpse high on a branch. It could only mean one thing.

“He wanted it to be seen!”

Kwak Yeon understood with cruel clarity that the intended witness was himself. This was no coincidence—the man had shared a table with him at the inn.

Suddenly, his heart sank.

It led him to dread the fates of the other merchants.

He prayed it was not so—but that dread soon became reality.

—Caw! Caw!

Rounding the next bend, he found yet another corpse placed in the branches—again, one of the merchants.

“Spacing the corpses at intervals, set in plain sight—it’s to lead me onward.”

He could not know how the killer had identified those who had shared his table, but the place they had met was obvious enough.

And that same clue pointed toward the destination:

The roadside tent-inn.

That day, the merchants had said they too would stop at the tent-inn, urging him to visit.

And so Kwak Yeon was forced to take down corpse after corpse along the path.

At last, hot tears slid down his cheeks.

The grief had swelled too great to be held down even by his surging fury.

And within that grief crept a bitter self-reproach.

For to these merchants, the blessing of the Dark Cavern Taoist of Wudang had been no boon, but a curse. Their deaths were bound to him.

Kwak Yeon clutched the last merchant’s body and wept.

“...Forgive me. Truly, forgive me.”

If only he could restore warmth, if only he could rekindle the spark of life—he would do anything.

He felt a blaze rushing up through his meridians.

Fwoooosh!

In an instant, the flames consumed him, leaving behind only blackened ash. But within that ash was sealed a magma-like fire.

A fire that would not extinguish until it had utterly burned away the murderer. Kwak Yeon knew this.

Once the white heat of the Honwonmusang Technique swept through him, he grew calm again.

The final corpses he took down were two: a withered old man and woman, half-grey.

Kwak Yeon knew them as the elderly couple who had tilled fields and tended the roadside tent-inn.

He covered their bodies with branches to shield them from the crows, then pressed on.

At last, a yellowed tent came into sight in the mountain clearing.

Scattered packs. Pools of blood.

The place of slaughter.

And the killers were there.

Kwak Yeon walked toward the tent.

—Thoom! Crack!

A giant, reminiscent of a towering statue, split firewood with an axe and turned to stare at him. His bare bronze-toned chest gleamed like cast metal.

—Clack! Clack!

At the tent’s entrance, a red-faced middle-aged man flicked the beads of an iron abacus and looked up.

—Clatter! Thunk!

A woman pale as a ghost—her face, lips, even brows stark white—tossed a pile of ritual knives onto a table, then smiled at Kwak Yeon.

And within the tent, an emaciated half-grey elder sat behind a rough wooden table, an empty chair set opposite as though reserved long ago. His leisurely gaze settled on Kwak Yeon.

—Step, step.

Kwak Yeon walked past the giant with the great axe on his shoulder. Past the middle-aged man scraping his nose with the tip of the iron abacus.

—Step.

Past the ghost-faced woman, her crimson tongue flicking over blue lips.

—Thock.

He sat in the empty chair. A flicker of light stirred in the old man’s eyes, then vanished.

The chair and table were crude, fashioned from whole logs.

Surely they had been made by the old man of the roadside tent, who now lay dead.

Seeing the murderer seated comfortably in such a chair made Kwak Yeon feel as though the coal in his chest had cracked.

Czzzrrk.

But this was not yet the time to let fury erupt. He forced the surging fire back down.

Silence fell beneath the tent, until the red-faced man broke it.

“White Sister, how’s the fortune today?”

The ghost-faced woman gathered up her knives with a metallic chime and replied,

“Not so auspicious. The Divine Mother said the early signs were excellent, but for some reason she has not revealed the latter hexagram.”

“The Divine Mother of Baekma must have soured at the smell of blood since dawn. My abacus, though, gave me Heaven’s Blessing, Mutual Welcome—fortune in abundance.”

“Heaven’s blessings competing to arrive? That bodes well for you, Brother Ga.”

“Don’t be disappointed, Baekma. No augury hits its mark every day.”

The ghost-faced woman licked her blue lips with a lurid tongue.

“Brother Ga, I still read it true that our guest would arrive. So perhaps today’s fortune is not so bad after all.”

The axe-bearing giant rumbled as he entered the tent.

“White Sister, wasn’t that expected? After all the signposts we left behind, only a blind fool could miss the way.”

“Brother Deuk, not everyone is like us. Most people, at the sight of corpses, run. Only thanks to this young Taoist’s lack of fear did he come.”

The red-faced man gave them both a look.

“Now that the guest is here, enough chatter. The Great One seems to have words for him.”

Kwak Yeon saw how the three shifted subtly, surrounding him from three sides. He did not care.

In truth, he welcomed it—that way, none would escape.

His composure drew another flicker in the eyes of the withered elder.

“Is this youthful bravado? Or the pride of Wudang?”

Kwak Yeon shook his head.

“Neither.”

“...?”

“Wasn’t it you who left this seat empty, waiting for me?”

“That’s true. But I did not think you would sit so boldly. And know this—no one who has ever sat in that seat has risen alive.”

The elder, called the Great One, rolled his eyes.

“So then—do you not regret it now?”

“If I did, would you yield the seat back?”

The half-grey elder gave a thin laugh.

“Of course not. Capturing a master who has broken free into the Fire Realm is a troublesome matter even for us, the Four Evils of Heaven.”

Even as he named them, Kwak Yeon remained unmoved, and again the elder’s eyes gleamed.

“I cannot tell if your calm comes from great courage, or from ignorance of the martial world.”

The Four Evils of Heaven were among the Twenty-Eight Demonic Devils, feared above all.

When they chose to kill, none survived. Their acts were notorious for secrecy and cruelty.

They had long been listed at the top of the martial world’s roll of public enemies—yet none dared move against them.

For the four always acted together as one body. Who but a madman would challenge such demons?

Thus the Great One’s doubt at Kwak Yeon’s composure.

Kwak Yeon answered steadily,

“Whether you are the Four Evils of Heaven or not is of no concern to me. I came here for one reason only—to ask a question.”

He was not ignorant that the Twenty-Eight Devils were the demonic counterparts to the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions of the orthodox world.

But what did it matter? Today, they were nothing more than human refuse, destined for death.

Kwak Yeon fixed his gaze on the half-grey husk.

“Why did you kill these people? Even demonic men are said to leave the common folk untouched.”

The only reason he still kept formal speech, suppressing the urge to retch, was to hear the answer from their own mouths—so he could weigh out the punishment to fit the crime.