Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Kwak Yeon had to go that far for the man to finally nod with difficulty.
“In that case… it’s shameless of me, but I’ll accept it.”

When the man took the silver, the woman turned to her young son and said,
“So-cheong, quickly thank the warrior.”
So-cheong hesitated for a moment, then bowed his head.

“……”
The woman added,
“Sir Warrior, our child cannot speak. Please don’t take it as him being rude.”

Kwak Yeon, seeing that So-cheong understood his mother’s words, realized the boy wasn’t mute by birth. And when the woman said those words, he also felt the infinite sorrow buried within her.
Kwak Yeon looked to So-cheong’s father and spoke.
“I’ve had nothing in particular to do and was growing a little restless. Would you mind keeping me company in conversation for a while?”
The man seemed to understand that he hadn’t asked more directly because of the child, and nodded.

“Please, let’s do that.”
The two of them walked to the stern of the Pyouunseon and gazed for a time at the rippling waters of Lake Dongjeong.
After a brief silence, Kwak Yeon spoke in a courteous tone.

“I’ve delayed my introduction. I am Kwak Yeon, a lay Daoist currently undergoing cultivation at the Three Spirits Palace on Mount Wudang.”
“Ah! So you are Daoist Kwak of Mount Wudang!”
Kwak Yeon didn’t take offense at the man calling him Daoist [N O V E L I G H T] Kwak. From his worldly experience, he knew that to common folk, the distinction between “Daoist” and “lay Daoist” was a blurry one.

“No wonder your bearing felt so refined.”
The man exclaimed with admiration.
“I’m Wang Cheol-go, from Chillyang County in Hunan Province.”

“So you’re Brother Wang.”
“Oh no, please—Brother? That’s too much.”
“You’re quite a bit older than I am. Of course I should call you Brother.”

“Daoist Kwak, as you can see, I’m just a humble farmer.”
“My master always said the noblest profession is that of a farmer. He told me to be ashamed of playing at Daoism while living off others.”
“To hear such words from one of the immortals about us ignorant farming folk… I’m truly grateful. But still, Brother—that really…”

“It puts me at ease to call you that.”
“Ah, well… sheesh.”
After a brief pause, Kwak Yeon continued.

“To tell you the truth, Brother Wang, I sought you out because of So-cheong.”
“…?”
“I realized that what startled him was my sword. I know it’s presumptuous, but as someone cultivating the Dao, I couldn’t ignore a child whose heart had been wounded.”
“Presumptuous? Not at all. To us, it’s a kindness worth thanking you a thousand, ten thousand times over.”

“From what I can see, So-cheong wasn’t born unable to speak. It looks more like he’s chosen not to. I suspect it’s related to whatever frightened him about the sword.”
Wang Cheol-go looked at Kwak Yeon in astonishment, then nodded.
“That’s right. So-cheong used to be the most talkative child you could imagine.”

“Would you be willing to tell me what happened to him?”
“Why do you ask…?”
“I’ve trained in the Dao and have some ability in soothing wounded hearts. But to do so, I need to know the cause.”

Kwak Yeon couldn’t reveal his true intention outright, so he spoke around it. But in essence, his purpose wasn’t far off.
“If it’s too painful for you to speak about, Brother Wang…”
“No, that’s not it. It’s not because it’s hard to say.”

Wang Cheol-go’s expression collapsed into grief.
“It’s all because I was incompetent as head of the household. That’s what pains me so much. I feel so sorry for the child…”
Tears welled in the corners of Wang Cheol-go’s eyes.

“…Forgive me for showing such disgraceful weakness.”
Kwak Yeon turned his gaze toward the lake, deliberately looking away as Wang Cheol-go wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Yes… it’s all my fault. No matter how desperate things were, I should never have borrowed from Yeomwangchae…”

Yeomwangchae—a usurious loan said to bind the debtor’s soul even in death.
“A few years ago, my wife fell ill, and I took out an emergency loan from the market. It wasn’t a large amount. I thought I could easily repay it after the harvest. That was the trap of Yeomwangchae.”
“The trap?”

“I brought the money to repay the debt on the agreed date, but the lender’s agent said the master was bedridden and told me to come back another day. When I did, the amount had doubled. They claimed I’d missed the deadline and had incurred a penalty fee. The money I brought could barely cover the interest. I scraped together another sum and returned on the next promised date, only to be told the master was away again.”
“……”
“That’s when I realized it was all a ploy. The interest ballooned like a snowball, and before I knew it, I was drowning. Even after they took our home and farmland, the principal remained. And when they had nothing left to take from me, the lender handed my debt contract over to Yeomwangsa.”

“What’s Yeomwangsa?”
“They’re the ones who buy up uncollectable debts from the money markets at bargain prices. Then they extract what they can, no matter the means. No scruples. None.”
Wang Cheol-go let out a long, heavy sigh before continuing.

“Those Yeomwangsa bastards kept squeezing and squeezing. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I went to the authorities. But somehow they found out right away. They barged in—put a cold blade to So-cheong’s throat. Said they’d let me watch him die.”
His fists clenched so tightly they turned white from rage.
“They took everything down to the last spoon in the house. I barely managed to save So-cheong, but… from that day on… he hasn’t spoken a word.”

“……”
“So we had no choice but to flee our village. We had nothing left anyway… and if we’d stayed, the Yeomwangsa bastards would have killed my son for real.”
Kwak Yeon boiled with fury. At the same time, a worry nagged at him—had this family been wandering without direction ever since?

“Then… where are you headed now, Brother Wang?”
“In Gyeongsa, there’s a retired Daejehak scholar—he’s settled in Sangjeon Village in Deokseong County and started a wanje project, reclaiming land by building dikes and canals. I heard he needs a lot of hands.”
“……”

“And I heard he’s even dividing some of the newly reclaimed land among refugees. All the displaced folk on this Pyouunseon are headed to Sangjeon Village.”
“That Daejehak must be an unusually virtuous man.”
“I didn’t believe the rumors at first either. But I asked around, quietly. It’s true.”

“In any case, I’m glad you have a destination.”
Now that Kwak Yeon had heard So-cheong’s story, he found himself troubled once more.
He understood now—what the child had seen was a sword, and what he’d felt was terror. All because of the atrocity committed by those Yeomwangsa fiends.

But he still had no idea how to help the boy overcome it.
It felt like standing before a young sapling on the verge of snapping.
This wasn’t a wound that could be healed by a smear of mud. It was the kind of deep and grave injury that required splints and layer after layer of care.

Kwak Yeon knew well that mind (心) and body (身) were one, and that their harmony brought balance. That understanding allowed him to arrive at a solution.
‘If I can replenish the boy’s fractured True Source Qi—disrupted on that day—his heart will find calm again, and he will grow. And if I can plant the seed of courage in him while doing so, then with the resilience of youth, he’ll surely overcome it.’
Wang Cheol-go, having seen the slightest nod from the motionless Kwak Yeon, asked cautiously,

“Daoist Kwak… is the treatment going to be difficult?”
“Brother Wang, though So-cheong has suffered a serious wound at such a young age, his ability to recover is just as strong. So yes—it can absolutely be healed.”
“Ah!”

“Though it will take some time.”
At those words, the light of hope faded from Wang Cheol-go’s eyes.
“Hahh…”

“I don’t have anything urgent at the moment, so I’ll give it a try.”
“Truly? You mean that?”

“A Daoist from Mount Wudang is not permitted to speak falsehoods.”

The fire that had died in Wang Cheol-go’s eyes reignited in an instant.
“Thank you. Thank you, Daoist Kwak!”
“But… will it not be uncomfortable for you and your family if I stay with you for a while?”

“Uncomfortable? We’re only worried we won’t be able to treat you properly because of our poverty.”
“I’ll take care of my own meals and lodging. Please don’t trouble yourselves.”
Wang Cheol-go’s eyes widened. In truth, he’d been anxious about just that—he had so little, it had weighed on his mind.

“Still…”
Kwak Yeon deflected gently, so the family wouldn’t feel burdened.
“I need time alone for my cultivation as well. I won’t always be around, so I hope you’ll understand.”

“…Thank you.”
Tears welled up once more in the eyes of the wiry, weather-beaten Wang Cheol-go.
Looking at those thick, knotted hands wiping away tears, Kwak Yeon felt a tightness in his chest.

So this… is what a real father’s hands look like.
Kwak Yeon stepped toward the bow of the boat.
He wasn’t the only one there—several people were standing at the prow.

Since he had concealed the Cheonggang Sword, people no longer treated him with such distance.
There’s no need to rush to Mount Wuyi.
Kwak Yeon believed the Wise Daoist would be doing just fine.

The Mount Wuyi Sect, unlike the Wudang Sect, was a Daoist school where Immortal Cultivation was the mainstream.
He’s probably deep in seated meditation right now, having reached a sudden realization while training in the Dao.
As a Daoist of the Immortal Path, it was unlikely that he’d be struggling on his journey.

Kwak Yeon recalled hearing that the Wise Daoist had left behind the promissory notes he’d gathered over the years for him.
Though their beginnings hadn’t been smooth, in the end, the bond they formed was warm and sincere.
From that experience, Kwak Yeon learned that any relationship was what one made of it.

I wonder what the Wise Daoist will say when he sees I’ve become his disciple in truth.
They might both be so awkward they end up pretending nothing happened for a while.
On the horizon of the vast lake, great mountains began to appear.

While gazing at the now noticeably closer mountain ridges, Wang Cheol-go approached him again.
“Daoist Kwak.”
Since commoners didn’t know the difference between Daoist and Lay Daoist, Kwak Yeon let Wang Cheol-go continue calling him that.

“Yes, Brother Wang?”
“It’s a bit early, but we’ve prepared dinner. We wanted to eat before reaching the pier. Once we land, we’ll need to hurry.”
“I…”

Kwak Yeon was about to decline, but changed his mind. After all, nothing brought people closer than sharing a meal.
And there was something to be said for the sincerity of the invitation.
“It irks me when you act like it’s enough for just you to be fine.”

A sharp rebuke he’d once received from Maejangso came to mind—one that had taught him to open his heart to Seokjangsan and others since.
“Then I’ll gratefully accept.”
“Accept? We’ll be living like one household for a while, won’t we?”

Household…
Kwak Yeon felt anew the weight of that word.
At the sound of it, it was as if Wang Cheol-go’s family had stepped into the circle of his life without warning.

Watching Wang Cheol-go’s back as he walked ahead toward the deck, Kwak Yeon felt warmth stir within him.
…Brother.
At least in this moment, the man looking out for him truly felt like a brother.

“Kwak Yeon! Get over here and eat already! If you don’t come by the count of three, you’re not even getting the soup. One! Two! Two and a half! Two and a half of a half! Two and a half of a half of a half! Two…”
He remembered—those mischievous older brothers had never actually finished counting to three.