Wudang Sacred Scriptures
Chapter 90

―Thud.

In an instant, Jeong Sang-cheon’s sword pierced cleanly through the chest of Jeon Yu, former head of Seongha Sangbang.

It was, without a doubt, a remarkable strike.

Kwak Yeon recognized it immediately. He also understood the incredible ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) level of internal and external energy harmony that Jeong Sang-cheon had reached.

He had reached the very pinnacle of explosive force. That meant he stood at the threshold of martial clarity.

In sheer internal energy, he was overwhelming.

Lacking true enlightenment, he must have relied on pure power alone.

His energy reserves easily exceeded three decades’ worth of cultivation.

Through perfect mastery of explosive force and overwhelming inner strength, he had demonstrated how one might control a sword using energy alone.

If this martial world had no such thing as realms beyond the human limit, he could have claimed the title of number one under heaven.

The reason he chose to kill the former head of the syndicate wasn’t because the man was a witness—it was to showcase that single move.

“How satisfying, and how regrettable,” Jeong Sang-cheon said.

He raised both hands.

“Well, Master Kwak. How do you intend to punish me? You surely don’t trust the district office here. The provincial office in Honam is stagnant and won’t satisfy you either. They say the current imperial inspector is an honest man—perhaps that’s your best option. Oh, and if you don’t trust the official authorities, you could even go to the Martial Alliance. There’s no shortage of old men there who would love nothing more than to devour me, thanks to a few things I did in my youth.”

Strategist Jeong Seung-su had never imagined his master would raise his hands in surrender so cleanly.

It had to be the result of cold, rational judgment.

Losing to a master in the realm of clarity was no disgrace. But the opponent was a young disciple of Wudang.

This would tarnish the honor of the Jeong family.

As expected, the Hall Master was a man of Jeong blood to the bone.

"The sword is always drawn last."

That old family axiom of the Jeong clan often made others say they were better at scheming than swordsmanship.

But the Jeong family took it as a compliment. It meant they never acted out of emotion.

It was that cold judgment, passed down through generations, that had solidified their position as one of the Five Great Houses under heaven.

Strategist Jeong Seung-su believed that the Hall Master would rise again, just like that maxim said—stronger, fiercer, sharper.

Next time, there would be no humiliation.

Just as the Hall Master had always done.

For the time being, Waryong Hall—the Jeong family's First Branch—would have to endure disgrace. In the meantime, he himself would ensure the aftermath was handled properly in the master’s stead.

As he made that silent vow, he heard Kwak Yeon speak with calm clarity.

“Have you said all you wish to say?”

Jeong Sang-cheon answered with a bitter smile.

“It seems none of those options pleased you. Fine, then. Take me to Wudang Mountain. I’ve always had a vague interest in Daoist cultivation anyway. Go ahead—decide my fate.”

“I already told you what I decided.”

“What do you... huh?”

Jeong Sang-cheon saw the Wudang disciple raise the Cheonggang Sword and aim it at his chest.

—Thrust.

He couldn’t understand what was happening.

“...I yielded. I even cast away my sword...”

To stab a bare-chested man who had already surrendered—

“That was your decision. It has nothing to do with the resolve I brought here.”

“So from the start... you...?”

“Did I not say it clearly? I would punish the one truly responsible with my own hands.”

“You’re not even afraid of the Jeong family’s wrath? How will you handle the consequences...?”

Jeong Sang-cheon had fully expected the Wudang disciple to take into account the long-standing alliance between their sects.

This result had not appeared in any of the thousands of scenarios he had considered. Naturally so.

Because this would forge an unbridgeable rift between Wudang and the Jeong family.

But then—

“Slay Buddha, slay ancestor.”

“...What?”

“A final teaching left to me by my master. If it is for a righteous cause, then even Wudang must be cut down.”

“A righteous cause? Killing me—the head of the Jeong family’s First Branch—over a few lowborn workers? You call that justice?”

Rage surged in Kwak Yeon’s eyes.

“Master Jeong, the weight of a life is the same for all. I hope in your next life, you are born with the wisdom to understand that. Though with the cries of tortured spirits hounding you in hell for eternity, I’m not sure heaven will grant you the chance.”

—Crunch.

Kwak Yeon twisted the Cheonggang Sword.

The spirits of the dead were clamoring.

They were begging him to send this man to them.

As Kwak Yeon pulled the sword free, Jeong Sang-cheon slumped back into his chair.

Strategist Jeong Seung-su felt like he was living through a nightmare.

The Waryong Dragon of the Jeong family was dead.

Killed here, in the inner chamber of his own estate, while seated in the very chair he always commanded from.

It was unthinkable.

It should never have happened.

And the one who killed him wasn’t some demonic cultist or rogue monk.

It was a Daoist of the orthodox path—a disciple of Wudang, no less. A sect that had shared a thousand years of brotherhood with the Jeong family.

He didn’t want to believe it.

But the gaping hole in the master’s chest said otherwise.

Kwak Yeon stepped toward the dazed strategist.

“I’m well aware that more than a few people from your branch of the Jeong family are involved in this affair.”

Jeong Seung-su snapped back to his senses at the sight of the fury burning in Kwak Yeon’s eyes.

“But as promised, I punished only the one truly responsible. Those four stood in my way. I had no choice but to cut them down.”

“Then...”

“The rest of you will answer to the net of heaven and earth. But if any of you choose my sword instead, I won’t refuse.”

“...!”

“It’s up to you now. But I expect that someone with the Jeong family’s blood will make a wise decision.”

Strategist Jeong Seung-su stood frozen, his face pale with disbelief.

Kwak Yeon slid the Cheonggang Sword back into its sheath, then turned to the gate officer Kang Chan-wook, who still stood pale and trembling in the corner.

“Constable Kang. Let’s go.”

Kang Chan-wook looked like his soul had half-fled already.

He had thought there was no way he would make it out of this place alive.

He had heard far too much. He had witnessed the death of the Waryong Hall Master with his own eyes.

If Strategist Jeong so much as gave the order—this hall would become a bloodbath.

Expecting a mere gate officer to keep his head in such a slaughterhouse was absurd.

And yet, the young master said, “Let’s go.”

As casually as if leaving a friend’s house after a quiet visit.

Constable Kang Chan-wook stared at Kwak Yeon, utterly bewildered.

Does this young man have nerves made of iron?

Of course, he knew the youth was a formidable martial master.

“Kang, once we step beyond the hall doors, look straight ahead. Don’t tremble, and keep your expression calm. Do that, and nothing will happen.”

Kang Chan-wook couldn’t bring himself to ask how he could be so sure.

His only hope lay in the fact that Strategist Jeong had yet to say a word.

He silently prayed to all the gods of heaven and earth that Jeong would remain silent until they passed through the gate and beyond.

Twenty steps left.

Kang walked exactly as the young master had instructed—eyes forward, composure firm. He had long since cast aside his dignity as a constable of the district office.

Ten more steps.

He ignored the sharp stares of the Waryong Hall warriors lining the corridor. All that mattered were the steps between him and the main gate.

Five, four... Please, gods of heaven and earth, please...

And at last, they stepped beyond the main gates of Waryong Hall.

I'm alive!

From that moment on, Kang Chan-wook vowed to believe in the gods.

No—since this youth belonged to the Wudang Sect, he would place his faith in the Primal Celestial Lord himself.

But once the gates of Waryong Hall were no longer visible behind them, Kang collapsed to the ground.

Whether the youth saw him or not, he simply couldn’t stand any longer.

“Master Kwak, I know I must look like a complete fool right now. But... I also know I’m as good as dead. You can leave here, but me... I... I can’t...”

He had witnessed the death of the First Branch Hall Master of the Jeong family. Even if the Wudang Sect was righteous, the martial world was still full of brutes.

These were not men who acted by common logic.

If it meant burying a disgrace to their name, they would burn the entire district office to the ground.

“They won’t be able to harm you.”

“...Sorry?”

“There’s no point in silencing something that’s already known to the entire world.”

“...?”

“As soon as you return to the office, tell as many people as possible what happened at Waryong Hall. Report it formally. Ask your commanding officer for protection if you value your life.”

“Ah...”

“Not a single detail must be hidden. Because the moment there’s a secret, someone will try to bury it.”

“Then... your identity, Master Kwak...?”

“What of it? If anything, it’s better this way.”

“You don’t seem like someone who seeks fame.”

Kang Chan-wook, for all his faults, had a decent eye for people. His first impressions were usually wrong—but still.

“Those who think too much tend to freeze up when things get noisy.”

Kang had no idea what that meant.

But he was relieved that this young master didn’t mind having his identity made public.

“If you’re still worried, request a transfer from your commanding officer. Tell him it was a personal favor from me.”

“...”

“And here—use this for expenses.”

Kang’s eyes widened when he saw the gold ingot in Kwak Yeon’s hand.

“Why go this far...?”

“Thanks to your cooperation, many lives were saved today. Consider this my way of repaying you.”

Then, a realization struck Kang.

“So it wasn’t that you needed me as a key to open the gate... it was because...”

Kwak Yeon nodded.

“With the former head of Seongha Sangbang, they would’ve opened the gate either way. But if I had come out alone, the guards outside might’ve found it suspicious. There could have been needless bloodshed. With you beside me, as a district constable, they were less likely to act.”

And that’s exactly what had happened.

Kang Chan-wook now understood that this youth wasn’t just powerful in martial arts.

He was thoughtful. Strategic.

And then he realized something else.

“Thank you for all your efforts today.”

At the young master’s courteous bow, Kang scrambled to return the gesture.

“Oh—there’s no need to thank me, sir. I had no idea who you truly were. I deeply regret how disrespectful I was earlier.”

But when Kang looked up, the young master was already gone.

If not for the weight of the gold in his hands, he would’ve thought it was all a dream.

So not all martial artists are ruthless brutes after all...

****

Grand Elder Yunhak Jin-in was rushing up the ice-crusted steps.

The very steps he had sworn never to ascend again, he now climbed beneath the pale light of dawn.

There was only one reason.

The keeper of the Jade Pavilion had come in a panic, carrying a sealed dispatch from Honam Province.

The man’s hands had been trembling as he held it.

Recalling that moment sent shivers down Yunhak Jin-in’s spine.