Wudang Sacred Scriptures

The seething surge of fury ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) sparked through every major meridian in Kwak Yeon’s body. As if in response, his blood channels opened on their own, and the inner energy coiled deep in his dantian exploded outward.

Kwarrrumm!
The Art of the Everchanging Origin was no ordinary internal technique—it responded to the Five Desires and Seven Emotions.
To reach the Realm of Boundless Emptiness, one had to transcend those desires and emotions. But the only path to transcendence… was through deep confrontation with them.

The pure rage Kwak Yeon now felt—this, too, was part of that journey.
He gathered the violent storm of inner energy that had erupted through his entire body and guided it once around his meridians with the circulation method of Taiji Internal Energy, sealing it down once more.
Then, he unlatched the door to the laborers’ quarters.

He opened the door just wide enough to slip inside.
A stench assaulted him the moment he entered.
In the dark, he saw layered mounds strewn across the floor.

They began to stir. Only then did he realize—the laborers were stacked atop each other, sleeping in piles.
As the door opened, they sluggishly rose and began filing toward it in a daze.
None of them seemed to care who had opened the door. Their bodies moved on instinct—when the door opened, they exited.

They knew exactly what would happen if they stayed behind. Anyone left lying down would be dragged to the sulfur-reeking hell known as the warehouse.
The fear of death was what kept their gaunt, skeletal bodies moving at all.
A few of them stared at Kwak Yeon with wide, terrified eyes—those were the newest arrivals.

To them, the distinction between the living and the dead must have felt razor thin.
Kwak Yeon quickly scanned the room, then closed the door again.
Only then did the vacant stares of the laborers begin to focus on him.

It was the first time a guard had entered their quarters. Until now, the guards had always stood outside, covering their noses and checking only to see if all the laborers had filed out.
But this one… not only had he stepped inside—he’d shut the door behind him.
“Everyone, please sit down quietly.”
At his words, they sat down in unison. Like trained dogs. No… like dogs who’d long since learned that any command must be obeyed.

Kwak Yeon choked down the anger rising in his throat and continued.
“The situation is urgent, so I’ll keep this brief. Very soon, a battle will break out just outside this dormitory—between those here to rescue you, and the villains who run this place. During that time, you must protect yourselves. But it won’t be difficult. All you need to do is seal the door from the inside and hold it.”
He didn’t expect all of them to understand.

So he turned to the new arrivals.
“You who came today—take the lead. You want to live through this and return to your families, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir!”

“Then block the entrance. Pile up whatever you can—anything that will stop people from getting in.”
“Um… forgive me, but who are you?”
“I’m a military aide under the Provincial Governor of Honam. Skilled martial officers from the capital are here with me, just outside the palisade.”

Once again, Kwak Yeon invoked the authority of the Provincial Governor.
After closing the laborers’ door behind him, he turned toward the warehouse—where smoke still billowed steadily into the night.
Those bastards wouldn’t bother entering that place. Only the barely-living were left inside.

Kwak Yeon had taken the time to fortify both the mine and the dormitory precisely because of one detail: the Commander and his men wore masks.
That meant they were ready to abandon this place at any moment—and when they did, they would destroy all evidence. Kwak Yeon knew all too well: white-path martial artists, when cornered, silenced mouths first.
A part of him still hoped these masked men weren’t of the orthodox sects. But his mind kept drifting toward that grim suspicion—especially after he saw the Commander toss the tea caddy into the brazier without a word.

That refined taste in tea… and his refusal to accept a bribe—he didn’t seem like a black-path rogue at all.
Regardless, I’ll unmask them and extract the truth.
Kwak Yeon cast the thoughts from his mind.

First, I’ll deal with the guards.
He made his way to the mercenary quarters—built a tier higher than the laborers’ dormitory.
To him, these guards were no more than petty thugs. On any other day, he wouldn’t have spared them a second thought, just like with the Black Snake Gang.

But these men… these men no longer deserved to exist in the world.
Beasts in human skin, long accustomed to treating people worse than cattle. He had no intention of entrusting them to Heaven’s justice.
There were no sentries posted outside the guards’ building.

Of course not. They strut around here crushing workers underfoot, thinking they’re untouchable.
He opened the door.
—Creeeak.

Four men sat at a table near the entrance, squatting under the dim light of an oil lamp, tossing dice and playing gambling sticks.
Even as the door opened, not a single one of them looked up.
“What the hell, Wangseok? Done shitting already? That was fast as hell. If you’re gonna sit in on this round, move your ass and grab a seat.”

“…”
“Why the hell you ignoring me, huh? Think you’re hot shit ‘cause you’re a squad leader now?”
Squad Leader Jang Isul turned toward the door, voice prickling with annoyance.

“…Wait. Who the hell are you?”
At the sound of his voice, the other guards finally looked up from the table.
They all stared, confused.

Kwak Yeon stepped toward them without a word.
“What the—?!”
One of the guards sensed something wrong and threw a punch without hesitation.

Kwak Yeon made a slight gesture with his hand.
The guard felt his body suddenly lift off the ground. The world blurred around him, the walls and lanterns flashing by like streaks of light.
Then he saw someone directly in front of him.

Another guard—eyes wide in shock.
A thunderous boom rang out.
—CRACK!

The sickening sound of bones shattering followed.
That was the last thing the two of them ever heard.
Jang Isul and the remaining guard watched, stunned, as their comrade was hurled backward with terrifying speed—slamming directly into another.

And then…
When their bodies collided, they burst like overripe drums.
—Splatt.

Blood and viscera splashed across the table, drenching Jang Isul and the last man standing.
They, too, were men who had brushed shoulders with the martial world. And they understood immediately what had happened.
That silent young man’s hand gesture—it had summoned this.

Merciless and refined: a cruel demonic technique.
Jang Isul and the final guard stood frozen in place.
Kwak Yeon turned to Jang Isul, eyes cold.

“Squad Leader Jang. You were bragging on the mountain trail about how good you were at handling livestock, weren’t you? Was that true?”
Jang Isul, pale as a ghost, nodded as if hypnotized.
“Y-Yes… it’s true.”

“Then I suppose slitting the throats of those pigs and dogs sleeping in the pen would be no trouble for you, would it?”
Squad Leader Jang Isul’s eyes widened.
“You don’t mean—”

“If you’d rather not, I can find someone else. Of course, I’ll start by cutting the throat of the most useless pig first.”
“I-I’ll do it!”
Kwak Yeon gave a slight nod.

“In that case, the one beside you is no longer of any use.”
The guard immediately realized what that meant and reached for his sword—but Jang Isul was faster.
—Shhk!

The guard looked down in disbelief at the blade now buried in his stomach. Then he met Jang Isul’s eyes and spat a curse.
“You son of a—ghhk!”
He never finished.

Jang Isul twisted the blade, severing the windpipe and ending it cleanly.
Wiping the bloodied blade against his sleeve, Jang Isul turned to Kwak Yeon.
“Leave it to me. I’ll handle it thoroughly.”

Kwak Yeon briefly grasped the man’s wrist, then released it.
“I’ve injected Exploding Blood Qi into your meridians. In half a ke—your heart will seize. I don’t need to tell you what happens after that. Miss even one of them… and the result will be the same.”
Jang Isul, now ghostly pale, nodded solemnly.

“I’ll finish them all within the time. Not one will be left standing.”
Kwak Yeon watched in silence as Jang Isul, eyes bloodshot and wild, turned and entered the sleeping quarters of the guards.
A part of him wanted to rouse each one, force them to wake and face death fully conscious, consumed by terror—to realize, too late, the value of the lives they’d scorned.

But he discarded the thought.
These men had long since stepped beyond the realm of human empathy.
Granting them even a second more of breath, just for reflection, was a waste of clean air.

So Kwak Yeon simply stood, watching as Jang Isul moved in and out of the guardroom, soaked head to toe in blood.
Finally, the man Kwak Yeon had been waiting for appeared—Sub-leader Wangseok, barging into the room.
“Hey, give me my sticks back for the—huh?”

His eyes widened.
He saw the gambling table drenched in blood. A stranger standing calmly amidst the carnage.
Wangseok instinctively drew his sword.

“Who the hell are you? What the hell is going on here?”
Seeing Kwak Yeon’s untroubled face, he didn’t immediately register the young man as an intruder.
Just then, Jang Isul returned from his butchery.

His entire body was drenched in gore. Blood dripped from his blade in crimson rivulets.
“Jang? What the hell…? Don’t tell me—you did this?”
Kwak Yeon didn’t even look at Jang Isul as he spoke.

“There’s still one pig left. Seems you didn’t keep your promise.”
“Then…”
“I always keep my word.”

He’s saying he won’t remove the Exploding Blood Qi.
Jang Isul’s eyes flashed.
The bastard’s back was turned.

No matter how strong he was, a sword through the back would kill him like anyone else.
Jang Isul poured every last ounce of his inner energy into the thrust.
But nothing responded.

His internal energy had seized up—his meridians twisted into knots. The force behind his strike collapsed, and his sword merely trembled against Kwak Yeon’s back.
Kwak Yeon slowly turned around.
“You wrung out a dry rag one too many times. I absorbed that meager scrap of internal energy you had left the moment I touched your wrist.”

“Then… that feeling earlier wasn’t Exploding Blood Qi?”
Jang Isul never got to hear the answer.
With a flick of Kwak Yeon’s finger, a sliver of Constructed Primordial Qi shot out like a gust of wind and pierced his forehead.

His body dropped without a sound.
A layer of frost had bloomed across his brow. Not a single drop of blood spilled.
Wangseok’s jaw dropped as he saw the pale frost crusting Jang Isul’s forehead.

“I-Is that… Frozen Yin Cold Arts?”
Kwak Yeon nodded once.
“For a pig, your eyes are unusually sharp.”

He had channeled Yin-Chill Energy into his Constructed Primordial Finger, just enough to ensure Wangseok would understand the futility of resistance.
As expected, Wangseok slowly lowered his sword.
“…What do you want?”

Kwak Yeon smiled faintly.
“Smart. You’ve got the instincts of a true Sub-leader.”