Chapter 5

Crack!

“…”

Jinheo’s expression went blank.

His empty hand.

The sword lying on the ground.

The stinging shock spreading from his Spirit Gate Point.

Ha! How could this…?

For a moment, he stopped moving altogether, overwhelmed by astonishment and bewilderment.

How was this possible?

True, Jinmu had aimed for such underhanded targets as his groin, eyes, and armpits, but changing a sword’s course was no easy feat.

Yet Jinmu had done it.

Jinmu, who had become a first-generation disciple only a year ago.

Jinheo might have been rigid, but he wasn’t unreasonable.

Ha! I’ve lost.

The match was over.

It had been a contest of techniques alone, but a loss was a loss.

Rather than feel humiliated at losing to Jinmu, Jinheo marveled at his junior martial brother’s progress.

While he hadn’t been looking, the boy had begun following in the footsteps of Myeongjin, once renowned as the finest of the first-generation disciples.

He felt proud of him. Deeply pleased.

“Jinmu…”

Just as he was about to offer praise, his heart swelling with joy, a tightly clenched fist came flying toward him, backed by Jinmu’s vicious expression.

But the match was already… over.

The fight’s not over. What’s this bastard doing?

Jinheo’s match had ended. Jinmu’s wouldn’t end until his opponent went down.

Thwack!

A heavy blow smashed into Jinheo’s face.

He didn’t even have time to groan.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The fists came at him one after another, leaving him no chance to collect himself.

Jinmu ran wild like an unbridled colt, and faced with his junior martial brother’s growth(?), Jinheo finally lost consciousness.

Oh, that feels gooood! Nothing like punching a Taoist. This is it! What a rush!

It had been so long since he’d felt this pleasure. After all the oppression(?) he’d suffered under Myeongjin, Jinmu felt as though ten years’ worth of indigestion had cleared in an instant.

Watching Jinheo crumple to the ground, beaten to a pulp, Cheongu couldn’t close his mouth.

But what shone in his eyes was admiration, not horror.

The youngest of the Jin generation.

Jinmu, who had remained unknown within the sect because he stayed at Chungheo Hermitage, had beaten down Jinheo, one of the Seven of Wudang.

And utterly mercilessly, at that.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Pardon?”

Jinmu called to Cheongu, who stood rooted to the spot with a vacant expression.

“Take him to the infirmary at Jeongdong Palace.”

Jeongdong Palace was one of Wudang’s Eight Palaces and served as its medicine hall.

“Yes? Yes, sir!”

Cheongu hurriedly hoisted the unconscious Jinheo onto his back and ran.

Watching the pair recede into the distance, Jinmu smiled slyly.

He’d beaten Jinheo.

Now that he’d sent him to Jeongdong Palace’s infirmary, word would naturally spread. And once Cheongu got talking, the story would gain plenty of embellishments.

The contest to become head disciple.

At last, he’d taken the first step.

Taoist or not, Wudang was still a martial sect.

What else could possibly matter in the martial world?

Strength was everything.

What if he kept going, defeated all Seven of Wudang, and became the strongest first-generation disciple?

Heh heh heh. The Two Principles Mind Art! I’ll learn it, whatever it takes.

Jinmu’s dream was beginning to flourish.

---

“That Jinmu defeated Jinheo?”

Sect Leader Myeonghyeon’s eyes widened at the words of Myeongseon, the elder in charge of Wonhwa Hall.

“Yes.”

“Good heavens!”

Exclamations of surprise rose among the assembled elders, and murmurs quickly spread.

Who was Jinheo, after all?

The youngest, perhaps, but still one of the Seven of Wudang, a group drawn from the first-generation disciples.

“How could that possibly…”

“Exactly. I thought the same thing, so I tried to summon Jinheo and ask him.”

“…”

“But he was in no condition to come.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The commotion had occurred that morning, and Myeonghyeon and the elders had yet to hear the details. They tilted their heads in puzzlement.

“Well, he was beaten to a pulp.”

“…”

“He was thrashed quite severely.”

“Thrashed? Jinheo? By Jinmu?”

“Yes. Half a day has passed, and he still hasn’t woken up. I ought to summon Jinmu and reprimand him, but… I’m too dumbfounded.”

“…”

Myeonghyeon looked as though he suspected Myeongseon had eaten something that morning that had addled the elder’s brains and was now playing a joke on him. But Myeongseon’s expression was far too serious for that.

“Is such a thing possible? It has been only a year, at most, since Jinmu became a first-generation disciple and began studying under Myeongjin.”

“I don’t understand it myself. I asked the boy from the Cheong generation who carried Jinheo in, and apparently Jinmu used the Thirteen Spirit Gate Swords.”

“The Thirteen Spirit Gate Swords?”

“Yes.”

“Ha! It gets stranger by the moment.”

It made no sense whatsoever.

The Thirteen Spirit Gate Swords was meant to subdue weaker opponents without killing them, not to fight stronger opponents with all one’s might.

“But the boy said something else that was odd.”

“Odd? What?”

“He said Jinmu modified the sword art.”

“Modified it? The Thirteen Spirit Gate Swords?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I didn’t get that far. As I keep saying, I was too dumbfounded.”

Myeonghyeon stared speechlessly at Myeongseon, then let out a short laugh.

“What nonsense.”

“It’s true.”

“…”

A little disconcerted by Myeongseon’s utterly earnest expression, Myeonghyeon cleared his throat twice.

“Ahem. Ahem. Did Myeongjin teach him that?”

“That could be it.”

“Come to think of it, Myeongjin has had plenty of complaints about Wudang’s sword arts since that incident, hasn’t he?”

“Indeed. He said we should discard appearances and pursue practical results.”

At Myeonghyeon’s question, the elders nodded, each adding a word of agreement.

But.

“I thought so too… But apparently Jinmu also modified the Seven Stars Fist and taught it to the boy.”

“Hmm? The Seven Stars Fist?”

“Yes. Jinmu did. And he tailored it to the boy’s build.”

“Ha ha! You must be joking…”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

Myeongseon began to look less certain.

Even to the elder who had spoken them, the words made no sense.

Of course, modifying martial arts was not difficult in itself.

Any of the elders gathered in Purple Firmament Palace’s great hall could readily break techniques apart and combine them as the situation required.

But for first-generation disciples, it was another matter.

Such a feat was impossible without grasping the essence of the martial art.

“Ho ho. The boy from the Cheong generation must have exaggerated out of inexperience.”

“That must be it, mustn’t it? But Jinheo’s condition was so…”

Myeongseon sounded less and less certain. After all, even the elder could scarcely believe it.

Still.

“Whatever the case, Jinheo did lose to Jinmu. And he was beaten to a pulp.”

“Well, now…”

If a junior martial brother defeated his senior, his achievement deserved praise. But if he injured a fellow disciple in the process, he ought to be punished or reprimanded.

The problem was that the culprit was Jinmu, and the victim was Jinheo.

By any reasonable expectation, it should have been the other way around…

“Well, since Jinheo has yet to regain consciousness, we should hear Jinmu’s side.”

“Quite right. I think we should summon Jinmu at once.”

At Myeongseon’s words, Myeonghyeon stroked his beard for a moment, then shook his head.

“Hmm. No. I’ve been so occupied with the Cheongyang Merchant Guild lately that I haven’t visited Myeongjin. I shall take this opportunity to see my junior martial brother early tomorrow.”

“That would be better. I’m curious to learn what Myeongjin has been teaching Jinmu, too.”

“Indeed. Then let us all go tomorrow morning.”

“Yes.”

---

The day after his very minor(?) dispute with Jinheo.

He was back. That damned pig, Cheongu.

Unlike other days, he had come at an hour when the second-generation disciples should have been practicing qi circulation before breakfast.

Before Jinmu had even eaten, and laden with baggage, too.

“Haaah. Why the hell are you here again?”

As Jinmu sighed and asked, Cheongu answered proudly.

“As of today, I’ve been transferred from Wonhwa Hall to Chungheo Hermitage, Martial Uncle.”

“What? Why? Who? What for?”

This useless lump!

“Martial Uncle Jinheo said I should learn a great deal from you from now on.”

“…”

That lunatic! Dumping this burden on me. Didn’t I hit him enough? I’ll go over there right now and—!

While Jinmu trembled with his fists clenched, Myeongjin opened the door and spoke.

“Jinmu.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I gave my permission.”

“Oh, you did… Pardon?”

Jinmu began to answer agreeably, then looked up in surprise. Myeongjin smiled brightly… No, what the hell are you grinning at?

“Jinheo came to ask me last night, so I told him to go ahead.”

Jinheo, you bastard. You talked my gullible master into it while I was out for a moment.

“Teach him well from now on.”

“Yes… What?”

Jinmu’s polite reply gave way to even greater bewilderment.

“Master, your disciple is not yet skilled or ready enough to take a disciple of his own.”

Jinmu spoke in protest.

“My boy, who said anything about taking a disciple? I simply heard what happened from Jinheo. To think I doubted your talent. Have you already grown strong enough to defeat him? Ho ho. Yours is truly a gift for martial arts bestowed by heaven. A great blessing for Wudang.”

If Myeongjin knew, the story must have spread.

That was a good thing, but…

“Ah, well…”

“Enough, enough. I heard how it happened, too. All streams return to the same source, as they say. Though you may have strayed from the proper path, your master can only rejoice at your achievement.”

“…”

Turning away from the speechless Jinmu, Myeongjin looked at Cheongu.

“Cheongu.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

“You must work hard from now on.”

“I will!”

“Good. Ho ho.”

Why are these two suddenly singing the same tune? Work hard at what? And who told you to answer him!

Unable to bring himself to glare at his master, Jinmu shot Cheongu a fierce look instead.

Cheongu merely took it as a look meant to strengthen his resolve and steeled himself once more.

Then.

“Jinmu.”

“…Yes.”

“Let’s eat. I’m getting hungry.”

You bottomless pit of a master!

But once again, instinct left him no choice but to answer politely.

“…Yes.”

Ah, these damned memories.

Damn it. Whatever happens, happens.

As Myeongjin went back into his room and closed the door, Jinmu heaved a sigh deep enough to sink the ground beneath him.

“Martial Uncle, how should I prepare Grandmaster’s breakfast? I’ll do it from now on.”

“…”

Jinmu stared at Cheongu with unfocused eyes.

A plump face, eyes curved into slits, and a smile turned up at both corners. He certainly was cheerful.

“Hey.”

“Yes, Martial Uncle!”

Making his scowl as threatening as possible, Jinmu placed a hand on Cheongu’s thick shoulder.

“I’ll take you in because my master ordered it.”

“Yes!”

“First, I am not your master.”

“…”

“Second, from now on, do exactly as I tell you. Everything.”

“…”

“Where’s your answer?”

“…Yes.”

“Third and last, when I’m training, don’t go shouting ‘Wow! Whoa! Oooh!’ like you did before.”

“…”

“Just follow those three rules, and nothing will happen to you. Understood? And every time you break one of them, I’ll kill… Well, I can’t do that. Expect to get beaten within an inch of your life.”

“…U-understood.”

Cheongu answered, looking a little cowed.

“Good. Now off you go.”

“Where?”

“To catch a chicken.”

“Pardon? A chicken? Surely you don’t mean to eat it? Our sect forbids eating meat because it interferes with the cultivation of immortal qi—”

Thud!

A fist shot straight into Cheongu’s plump side.

“Guh!”

Despite the thick layer of fat protecting him, the pain was so intense that Cheongu’s eyes widened as though they would burst out through the flesh.

“I told you. Beaten within an inch of your life.”

His face twisted in pain, Cheongu nodded hastily.

“Good. Since it’s your first time, I’ll leave it at that. Now go.”

Seeing that Cheongu understood, Jinmu released his shoulder in satisfaction.

“Ummm… But, Martial Uncle.”

“What!”

“Where am I supposed to catch a chicken…?”

“…”

Instead of answering, Jinmu raised his fist with a broad smile.

“Eek! I’m going! I’m going! I’ll be back in a flash!”

While Cheongu used the Cloud Ladder Leap, Wudang’s exclusive lightness art, to go and catch a chicken somewhere or other, Jinmu filled the pot with water and lit the fire.

Come to think of it, having Cheongu around might be convenient. There would be someone to send on all sorts of errands.

But what’s taking this bastard so long? Master must be hungry.