Wudang Sacred Scriptures

A group of trainees emerged from the pine grove, causing Kwak Yeon to tense slightly.
"What are you doing here?"

They were familiar faces—trainees from Byeongpal Dormitory.
"Is this what you’re looking for?"
Mae Jang-so, the boy in the lead, waved a worn martial uniform in front of him.

"We heard what you told Instructor So."
Kwak Yeon immediately understood why they had come.
After the commotion in the dining hall, Kwak Yeon had explained his nourishment techniques to Instructor So Jin-sam to clear the suspicion. Although the instructor hadn’t fully let go of his doubts, his watchful gaze had eased significantly.

"We want you to teach us that technique. If you do, this is yours. But if you refuse…"
The boys’ nervous expressions made it clear what their unfinished sentence implied.
"And what if I refuse?"

Kwak Yeon’s confident tone caught them off guard.
They had expected him to be timid and compliant, given his usually quiet demeanor.
Mae Jang-so frowned and said:

"We thought long and hard about this. You know we’re the weakest ones here. If things stay the same, we’ll have no future in this training hall. Rather than accept failure, we decided to take a risk. We knew you might refuse, but we’re out of options. So if you won’t help us, we’ll have to do things our way."
The boys clenched their fists, clearly ready for a fight.
Anger flared inside Kwak Yeon.

He had vowed never to hurt others, having suffered under his two older brothers’ bullying throughout childhood.
He refused to relive that misery here.
"No matter how much you beat me, you won’t hear a single word about the method."

Standing tall, Kwak Yeon’s boldness startled the boys.
Yet, as he looked at their anxious faces, a wave of pity washed over him.
Their actions infuriated him, but he understood their desperation—he had felt the same hopelessness just a month ago.
"But if you apologize for what you just did, I’ll teach you the method willingly."

The boys’ eyes widened in surprise.
"Really? Just for an apology?"
"Even if it costs you?"

"And how do we know you won’t trick us?"
Their skeptical stares pierced through him.
With a deep sigh, Kwak Yeon said:

"We’ve lived under the same roof for six months. Like it or not, we’re practically family. Helping you is the least I can do. Besides, the nourishment method isn’t some secret—it’s in the library for anyone to read. I can even give you the title if you want to check for yourselves."
Their hostility melted away.
Mae Jang-so stepped forward.

"Then…I’m sorry."
"We thought you were looking down on us—always keeping to yourself like you were better than us."
"That’s not it," Kwak Yeon said softly. "I’ve just…never been good at talking to people. I didn’t know how."

Mae Jang-so extended the uniform.
"Here. Take it back."
Kwak Yeon shook his head.

"You don’t need to repay me."
Mae Jang-so scowled.
"Can’t you consider other people’s feelings for once? It’s annoying how you always act like you’re above it all."

"…!"
Kwak Yeon felt like he had been punched in the gut.
He suddenly remembered Elder Jang No-ya’s words—the ones about the training hall feeling like a gathering of old men and how no one survives alone.

In that moment, Kwak Yeon realized why he couldn’t connect with others.
"Thanks. I’ll take it."
He accepted the uniform with an awkward smile.

Mae Jang-so snorted.
"What’s that? Are you smiling or crying?"
For Kwak Yeon, it was his first attempt at a genuine smile.

It felt awkward and embarrassing, but for the first time in a long while, he felt happy.
*****
Time flew by.

As some of Mae Jang-so’s group began seeing results from following the nourishment method Kwak Yeon had shared, Instructor So Jin-sam’s suspicions gradually faded.
However, his dislike for Kwak Yeon remained.
Watching Kwak Yeon—who wasn’t even guaranteed to pass the promotion exam—openly share his methods with potential competitors left So Jin-sam puzzled.

‘Has he already given up on advancing?’
But Kwak Yeon’s dedication to training and studying showed no sign of resignation.
Soon, even mid-level groups started associating with him.

Within a few more days, trainees from other dormitories also began gathering around Kwak Yeon.
The sudden rise of a previously invisible boy to a central figure in the training hall became a hot topic among the instructors.
"Could the nourishment method really be that effective?"

"It definitely works—if followed properly. Training alone wouldn’t yield such results in such a short time. But maintaining it is hard. It requires monastic discipline. Most of them will give up before long."
"Still, that boy’s influence is undeniable. That’s why the others rally around him."
"It’s not just the nourishment method. I heard he also explains meridian studies and scripture readings to anyone who asks."

"What? That’s unheard of! This is a problem."
"Why would it be a problem?"
"Think about the hall’s purpose. Ever since Grand Elder Unhak Jinin took charge, our goal has been to filter out the weak and keep only the elite. But if the trainees all end up at the same level, how will we separate the wheat from the chaff?"

"Still, we can’t just stop them from trying harder."
"The real issue is Kwak Yeon."
"What do you mean?"

"He’s not particularly talented, and he’s barely on the edge of passing the promotion exam. Why would someone like that be so generous unless he had some ulterior motive?"
"You’re overthinking it. He’s barely past ten years old!"
"So Jin-sam says he’s always been cunning. Acting like a teacher while barely keeping up himself—it’s laughable."

"So what do you propose?"
"We’ll be extra strict during his promotion exam. There’s no need to carry this problem into next year."
In the kitchen hall, Head Cook Jang No-ya silently observed the whispering instructors.

Later that evening, while Kwak Yeon was washing dishes near the water basin outside the kitchen, Jang No-ya approached him.
"You finally look like a proper person now."
Kwak Yeon looked up, startled.

"You were nothing but a scrawny, flea-bitten colt when you came here to burn your rags."
Kwak Yeon nodded politely.
"It’s thanks to you and the kitchen staff for providing such good meals. I’ve been meaning to thank you."

"No need to thank us. We’re just doing our jobs."
"Still, we share the same meals and live under the same roof. That makes us family."
"Family, huh?"

Jang No-ya paused, studying Kwak Yeon’s face carefully before continuing.
"Do you understand what this place really is? Why you’re all being trained here?"
"Of course. It’s to select disciples for the Wudang Sect."

"And do you know what happens if you fail to be selected?"
Kwak Yeon nodded.
"I heard they work as laborers at the Taoist temples."

"That’s right. Cleaning, chopping wood, farming vegetables—even hauling dung from the latrines."
"But those are necessary jobs, aren’t they?"
Jang No-ya’s gaze sharpened.

"What if that ‘someone’ was you?"
Kwak Yeon froze.
Jang No-ya stepped closer.

"While your peers become famous martial artists, roaming the world, would you be content hauling dung in the vegetable fields?"
 
Kwak Yeon’s thoughts drifted to his father.

His father, once a slash-and-burn farmer, had fled to the city chasing dreams of a better life.
But with no skills or connections, he ended up taking menial jobs to survive.
To endure the hardships, he turned to alcohol and eventually became a drunkard.

When he returned to the village, he had nothing but resentment—which he poured out on his family.
And in the end, he sold his son for a few silver coins.
That silver likely bought his family a few days of peace at most.

"Most people can’t endure it and leave the mountain," Jang No-ya said.
"But even if they leave, it never leaves their minds."
Jang No-ya continued, his voice low.

"There’s no hell worse than this world."
Kwak Yeon’s eyes widened as he asked:
"Why are you telling me this?"

"You probably feel like you’re becoming someone important because everyone’s treating you so well. But is that how they really feel?"
"Didn’t you tell me to get along with the others?"
"I didn’t mean for you to bare your soul and let them walk all over you. If you were prepared, I’d understand, but—sigh."

Jang No-ya let out a long sigh before continuing.
"I want to see you here next year. I finally get to see a real person in this kitchen, and I don’t want to lose that. But you need to use your time wisely—because your promotion exam is going to be especially harsh."
After leaving those cryptic words, Jang No-ya turned and walked away.

Kwak Yeon felt a chill.
He had already noticed the disapproving stares from the instructors in recent days.
‘They don’t want me to pass.’

But why?
He had never caused trouble, followed the rules, and worked harder than anyone.
He was too young to understand how difficult it was to shake off resentment once it had taken root—or how much of this situation he had brought upon himself.

Yet, what troubled him more than the difficulty of passing was a new question that lingered in his mind.
He had never stopped to ask himself why he needed to advance.
Like the other trainees, he simply assumed it was natural to keep climbing ranks, graduate, and become a disciple of the main sect.

Becoming a Wudang disciple—one of the pillars of the martial world—was a dream.
He had heard countless times that it would change his life.
It meant wealth, respect, and admiration.

For someone like Kwak Yeon—born into poverty, abandoned by his family, and sold for silver—it was the perfect revenge and a chance to rewrite his fate.
But after the conversation with Jang No-ya, that dream began to feel hollow.
He couldn’t pinpoint why, but the feeling nagged at him.

That night, Kwak Yeon stayed late in the library.
Reading helped him escape his frustrations and calm his thoughts.
He had also started feeling that his knowledge of meridians and energy channels was lacking.

Answering questions from other trainees only highlighted his weaknesses.
The more he studied, the more he realized how endless the topic was.
The idea of the human body as a microcosm of heaven and earth, as stated in “Heavenly Medicine Manual”, resonated deeply with him.

Teaching others had led him to new insights he would have never gained alone.
Learning through teaching became its own form of training—one that Kwak Yeon welcomed.
But it also left him less time for physical training, earning him warnings from Jang No-ya.

Yet he couldn’t resist the pull of the books or his growing curiosity about meridians.
Rustle. Rustle.
The sound of pages turning filled the quiet library.

Then—
Thud. Thud.
The heavy sound of footsteps echoed down the aisle.

Step. Step.
The steps approached directly toward him—and stopped right in front of him.