Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Seok Jangsan had shown remarkable talent from a young age, which inevitably led to jealousy from those around him. In particular, his legitimate half-brothers openly scorned and kept him in check.
When they discovered his dyslexia, they began actively slandering him.

Eventually, Seok Jangsan was summoned before the clan head and retainers to take a scripture interpretation test. Although he had memorized the texts, his upright nature prevented him from attempting to interpret even a single line.
Despite his extraordinary talent, an illegitimate son who was effectively illiterate could not be sent to the Main Sect as a disciple.
To fail in becoming a Main Sect Disciple was to be deemed useless within the Seok Clan, which was essentially a branch of the Wudang Sect.

His father, the clan head, lamented Seok Jangsan’s wasted potential but offered him a chance.
“No one can stop you from becoming a Main Sect Disciple if you resolve this difficulty on your own.”
With that, Seok Jangsan left the Seok Clan under the cover of night and arrived at the training hall.

Kwak Yeon thought Seok Jangsan’s fate was truly tragic.
Unlike Kwak Yeon, who had been sold off and had nowhere else to go, Seok Jangsan carried the burden of needing to succeed and return in triumph.
Still, Kwak Yeon felt a sense of pride in being able to offer Seok Jangsan even a little help. He was eager to continue supporting him. At the same time, the yearning to experience internal energy circulation firsthand grew stronger.

To achieve that, he had to pass the promotion test.
Kwak Yeon trained harder than ever, day and night.
“The smaller muscles support the bones, stabilize the joints, and absorb impact. It’s like how a lever can’t function properly without a sturdy fulcrum. And when the larger muscles relax, the smaller muscles contract to distribute the impact, improving endurance.”

Seok Jangsan carefully explained how to train the smaller muscles and personally corrected Kwak Yeon’s posture as he practiced.
Following Seok Jangsan’s instructions, Kwak Yeon realized how blindly he had been training his muscles before.
Focusing only on major muscle groups wasn’t enough to unlock true strength. He had to strengthen even the smallest supporting muscles to fully utilize his power.

‘If only I had known about the tendon and bone training method earlier…’
Whenever he felt resentment toward his fellow trainees for not sharing this knowledge, Kwak Yeon forcefully shook his head to clear his thoughts.
‘They must have had their reasons. Or maybe they just assumed I already knew.’

More than anything, he didn’t want to waste even a moment of his precious time dwelling on resentment. After all, it wouldn’t change anything.
Exhausted from training, Kwak Yeon lay down by the stream and gazed up at the night sky.
The stars glittered like scattered jewels, filling the heavens.
As he looked at them, Seok Jangsan’s earlier mention of a star map came to mind.

Thinking about the meridians and acupoints, Kwak Yeon began mentally connecting the stars with lines. Soon, a map of meridians appeared across the night sky.
What had only existed in his imagination now took form as a tangible image.
Staring at the celestial meridian map drawn across the heavens, he felt as though he were inside the vast network of meridians within the human body.

Kwak Yeon imagined himself as internal energy flowing through the meridians.
However, he struggled to picture the energy moving along a single path.
He couldn’t understand why it felt so difficult.

‘Isn’t imagination limitless in this world?’
In his mind, anyone could become the greatest martial artist under the heavens, cross a river atop a reed, or topple a mountain with a single punch.
‘So why can’t I imagine the flow of energy?’

After much deliberation, Kwak Yeon realized the problem lay in his own doubts.
‘I unconsciously denied that meridians exist as singular lines. It happened as my studies grew deeper.’
The realization struck him so hard that his eyes flew wide open.

"That’s it! Meridians aren’t lines—they’re pathways!"
Kwak Yeon exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.
But almost immediately, he tilted his head in confusion.

‘Then where exactly do these pathways exist?’
The blood vessels spread throughout the body were known to transport nourishment obtained from food—they weren’t meridians.
‘But aren’t there no other such pathways in the body?’

As Kwak Yeon wrestled with the question, a passage from the Heavenly Medicine Manual suddenly surfaced in his mind:
"Meridians and collateral vessels are never blocked. They always gather in acupuncture points before dispersing."
‘Never blocked… that must mean they disperse and flow freely. And since energy always gathers at acupuncture points, that’s why they’re called blood points.’

The concept became clearer, but he still couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of the meridians.
‘If they disperse and flow, could it mean they’re like capillaries? But even capillaries can get blocked, so that doesn’t fit.’
Then, out of nowhere, Kwak Yeon thought of the spaces between muscles.

“The clan leader said the tendon and bone training method is the foundation of martial studies. How well you develop it determines how effectively you can unblock clogged meridians later, so focus on it.”
It was what Seok Jangsan had emphasized when explaining the importance of the smaller muscles.
Training both the smaller and larger muscles naturally created and expanded spaces between them.

Kwak Yeon suddenly had an epiphany about the flow of meridians.
Meridians weren’t actual physical pathways—they were the patterns formed by energy dispersing and flowing through the spaces between muscles.
Since there was no defined path, there could be no blockages. Yet because energy flowed through these channels, they were still called “meridians.”

Recalling the meridian map he had imagined in the night sky, Kwak Yeon erased all the lines connecting the acupuncture points in his mind.
Then, he pictured himself as internal energy flowing freely.
To his amazement, he could now imagine himself moving without obstruction through the twelve meridians and twelve collateral vessels.

Overwhelmed by satisfaction, Kwak Yeon lost track of time as he repeated the visualization over and over again.
How long had he wandered through the celestial meridian map as internal energy?
Suddenly, Kwak Yeon snapped out of it, realizing he had wasted too much time. He erased the meridian map from the night sky in his mind and stood up.

Just as he resolved to refocus and resume his tendon and bone training, he felt something strange.
"…?"
His body, which had been heavy with exhaustion moments earlier, now felt unexpectedly light.

Kwak Yeon looked up at the night sky.
Countless stars glittered above, twinkling as if they were watching over him.
He smiled bitterly.

‘Looks like I ended up resting longer than I thought.’
From that night on, whenever he became exhausted during training, Kwak Yeon would mentally draw the celestial meridian map and imagine himself flowing as internal energy.
It cleared his mind of distractions and left him feeling refreshed.

Before he knew it, the day of the promotion test was right around the corner.
*****
“Failed!”

The instructor’s cold voice rang out across the training grounds.
“Instructor, please! I can climb higher if you just give me a little more time—”
The trainee clinging halfway up the rope cried out desperately.

“Get down! Your incense just burned out.”
“No, please!”
“If you don’t get down this instant, I’ll knock you off myself. Do you want to end up crippled? Get down now!”

Faced with the instructor’s harsh threat, the trainee slid down the rope, his body trembling.
With tears streaming down his face, he looked back at the other trainees before reluctantly joining the group of disqualified candidates.
“Next trainee, get ready.”

The next trainee stepped up to the starting line, his face pale with tension.
“Place your incense stick in the burner, light it with the candle beside you, and begin when ready.”
The physical test involved navigating four obstacles arranged around the training grounds.

The obstacles included:
Crossing five swaying iron pots.
Traversing a narrow, three-jang-long suspension bridge that bent under weight.
Throwing a 20-keun (approximately 26-pound) iron ball into a pit two-jang away.
Scaling a slick, oil-coated wooden wall and jumping over it.
 
Finally, the trainee had to return to the starting point, climb a rope suspended from a horizontal bar five-jang high, and ring the bell at the top.

All of this had to be completed before the incense stick burned out.
The incense sticks provided to the trainees were longer and thicker than regular ones, burning for approximately one daegyeong (about 15 minutes). However, considering the difficulty of the obstacles, the time limit was unforgiving.
More than half of the trainees who had attempted the test so far had failed, and the tension in the air only continued to build.

The current trainee hesitated to place his incense stick in the burner.
“What are you waiting for?”
“Instructor, my incense stick seems shorter than the others.”

The instructor’s gaze turned sharp.
“All the incense sticks were custom-made and are identical.”
“But—”

“One more word, and you’re disqualified. Start now!”
Tears brimming in his eyes, the trainee lit the incense and began the test.
Meanwhile, Kwak Yeon remained far less anxious than the others.

His confidence didn’t just stem from his steady progress through the Jianche Yangsheng Method and the tendon and bone training Seok Jangsan had taught him. It was also thanks to the sense of calm he had gained by visualizing himself flowing through the celestial meridian map in the night sky.
Imagining himself drifting through the vast heavens, far beyond the confines of the narrow training grounds, had made even the most daunting challenges feel trivial.
Of course, when he returned to reality, anxiety sometimes crept back in. But with repeated practice, his mind had grown more resilient.

The trainee who had just started fell off the suspension bridge, unable to keep his balance.
‘Ah! He was too nervous and lost his footing.’
Kwak Yeon sighed inwardly at the missed opportunity.

Then, he noticed a trainee glancing at him from a short distance away. The boy had been sneaking looks at him for some time, which made Kwak Yeon uneasy.
The boy moved his lips slightly but quickly lowered his gaze.
“…?”

Following the boy’s line of sight, Kwak Yeon’s eyes fell on the incense stick in his hand.
His incense stick was bent slightly near the top, almost as if it had been snapped and reattached.
‘Huh?’

Startled, Kwak Yeon lifted the incense stick to examine it more closely, but the moment he did, it snapped with a sharp crack.
The boy who had been watching him quickly turned away, pretending not to notice.
Staring at the broken incense stick, now missing nearly a third of its length, Kwak Yeon felt a wave of panic.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed faint scrape marks where it had snapped.
Then, he remembered the instructor’s earlier warning:
“There are no spare incense sticks. Handle yours carefully. Any damage is your own responsibility.”

It didn’t take long for Kwak Yeon to realize this was no accident.
This was sabotage—a deliberate ploy by the instructors to make him fail.
‘They really went this far?’

As he glanced around, he noticed the other trainees hastily averting their eyes.
Bitterness surged within him—an aching sense of injustice.
Passing the test with a significantly shorter incense stick was impossible.

His hands trembled slightly as frustration and despair threatened to consume him. But alongside those feelings, a fierce determination began to rise.
Failing due to a lack of skill or preparation was something he could accept.
But to fail because of such underhanded tactics? That, he refused to tolerate.

More than anything, Kwak Yeon couldn’t allow himself to return to the powerless, submissive life he had once endured—silently enduring mistreatment without ever fighting back.
‘Even if I break, I’ll push through to the end.’