Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Wang Cheol-go led Kwak Yeon to a group of men seated in a circle on one side of the deck.
“They’re all refugees headed for Sangjeon Village. Everyone wanted to meet you, Daoist Kwak, so they gathered here like this.”

Seeing Wang Cheol-go glance nervously, Kwak Yeon quickly addressed the refugees.
“I am Kwak Yeon, a lay Daoist in cultivation from the Three Spirits Palace of Mount Wudang. Thank you for inviting me to your meal.”
“Oh no, the honor is all ours.”

“We didn’t know you were a Daoist from Mount Wudang, and we kept our distance. Forgive us.”
All the refugees looked worn and haggard, yet their eyes brimmed with hope.
“Daoist Kwak, it’s not much, but we’d be grateful if you’d share a meal with us.”

Though the food was meager, to Kwak Yeon, it felt like a banquet that warmed his insides.
After introductions and the beginning of the meal, the slightly awkward atmosphere began to ease.
Urged on subtly by the others, one of the men hesitated a few times before finally speaking up.
“Um, Daoist Kwak. I apologize for being forward, but may I make a request?”

“Please, say whatever’s on your mind.”
Kwak Yeon had already been waiting for him to speak, so he answered without hesitation.
“I should repay the hospitality I’ve received, shouldn’t I?”

“Oh no, that makes it all the more difficult for me to speak. What hospitality? This is hardly worth calling that.”
Seeing how sincere and humble the people were, Kwak Yeon gave a gentle smile and said,
“I was just joking to help you feel at ease.”

“Joking, you say?”
The man’s sun-blackened face brightened slightly.
“Then… I’ll speak honestly. Forgive me for the shameless request. But since you’re coming to Sangjeon Village as well, we were wondering if you could perform a Seongjo Chukshin Ritual at our new house sites.”

Hope filled the faces of all the refugees looking at Kwak Yeon. Because he came from Mount Wudang, he already seemed like a companion of the immortals to them.
And it made sense—ordinary people rarely, if ever, met a Daoist of Mount Wudang in their lifetimes.
Their intentions were pure, their hearts desperate. How could they not feel fear, starting over in a new place far from home?

To them, even a blade of straw felt worth clinging to.
And it wasn’t as if he couldn’t play the role of a Daoist.
Thanks to his time at the Three Spirits Palace, he could at least recite some incantations.

He couldn’t exactly invoke the presence of a house spirit, but he could certainly help bring peace of mind to the people.
Flushing slightly, Kwak Yeon said,
“My cultivation is shallow, and my Daoist power is lacking, but I’ll do my best with sincerity.”

The refugees’ anxious expressions brightened all at once.
“Truly, thank you!”
“This is the honor of a lifetime.”
“We’ll remember this for generations in our family.”

Kwak Yeon, feeling embarrassed by their gratitude, said,
“I’m not that remarkable. Please, let’s not overstate things.”
But the man who had spoken first shook his head firmly.

“No, no. Honestly, I never even dreamed I’d receive a talisman from a Mount Wudang Daoist in my lifetime. And now you’re performing a house-blessing ritual? It feels like a dream.”
Another man added,
“Coming to Sangjeon Village was the best decision we ever made. What better omen than to meet a Wudang Daoist right at the start?”

Kwak Yeon stayed quiet, knowing that if he kept acting modest, the praises for this 'fraud' of a Daoist might never end.
As he fell silent, the praise naturally subsided.
He looked around the deck.

The women among the refugees were gathered separately, chatting, while the children played together.
So-cheong…?
So-cheong stood a little distance away, silently watching the other children.

Kwak Yeon considered approaching him, but shook his head.
Getting too close too soon might only heighten the boy’s fear.
Meanwhile, the conversation at the meal turned to talk of Sangjeon Village.

“They say the Sangjeon fields cultivated by the Daejehak span over fifty jeong—that’s a full hundred and fifty thousand pyeong. I heard every household there raises silkworms.”
“So there’s income aside from farming?”
“Exactly! And that’s not all—they’ve set up weaving workshops that spin silk from the threads.”

“So you’re saying as long as you work hard, anyone can live well there?”
“I’m telling you! Sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it? Who is this Daejehak, really?”
“They say he studied the science of governing the world—gyeongsejihak. Even while in office, he devoted himself to aiding refugees. When he retired to the countryside, he petitioned the Emperor to grant permission to reclaim the reed fields around Sangjeon Village. And then he used his own savings to build up the dikes.”

“So he blocked off the wetlands around Lake Dongjeong with dikes and turned it into farmland?”
“Right. And he planted mulberry trees along the dikes to prevent flood damage.”
“Truly a great man. Doing what even the state hasn’t done.”

“But apparently, age is catching up with him now.”
“Doesn’t he have children?”
“Never intended to pass anything on to them. He gave all the reclaimed land to the refugees, and aside from those fields, he owns nothing. Even the Sangjeon fields are open to the public, so he makes no income.”

“Ha! A real saint, then. But…”
One man, who had been leading the conversation with non-stop admiration, suddenly turned to the speaker.
“How do you know all this?”

“I worked as a servant at a high-end inn when there was nothing else. Lots of silk merchants stayed there. I picked up bits and pieces.”
“Ah, and once you learned the details, you packed your bags on the spot?”
“That’s right. Unless you’ve been one yourself, you can’t know how wretched it is to work as a tavern boy.”

As the conversation shifted to laments and misfortunes, Kwak Yeon sank into his own thoughts.
This Daejehak of Sangjeon Village was truly admirable.
He is someone who spreads the Way of salvation in the world. A warrior like me can do no more than punish the wicked.

Since he was already heading to Sangjeon, he thought it might be worth meeting the Daejehak once.
A scholar of his caliber might just offer insight into the will of Heaven.
Elder Josa of Jamsang Peak also said it: “Whether it’s martial arts, learning, or the arts, all things return to one origin—Manryu Gwiywon.”

Perhaps meeting So-cheong was the heaven-sent bond that would lead to such a meeting.
Kwak Yeon turned his head.
So-cheong was still standing there silently, watching the other children at play.

Kwak Yeon was reminded of the first six months he spent as a loner at Byeonggeup Academy.
I was just like that back then…
If Head Chef Jang Noya hadn’t shown him kindness, he would have broken down not long after.

No—if he thought back, it had all started with Scholar Yi Jong-sam, the silent guardian of the West Library.
He’d handed me the “Health and Vitality Manual” without much thought… and forgotten it entirely.
Kwak Yeon realized that even the smallest acts of kindness could cause tremendous change in another person.

Maybe it was these small attentions that truly changed the world.
Yes. No more hesitating. I need to try something.
He quietly stood and walked over to So-cheong.

“…?”
The child’s frightened eyes looked up at him—and again, that dark aura stirred faintly in Kwak Yeon’s chest.
Say something. Anything.

He noticed the glass marble in So-cheong’s hand and spoke.
“I had one just like that when I was little.”
So-cheong edged away step by step, then abruptly turned and ran straight back to his mother.

…I knew this wouldn’t be easy.
Even saying a single word had felt difficult.

He had made a conscious effort to smile, too.
Perhaps his first impression had been too strong.
What can I do to erase this child’s fear of me?

Just as Kwak Yeon was wrestling with that thought, a low horn call echoed across the lake.
―Bboooooooo!
The signal that Pyouunseon had reached its destination and passengers should prepare to disembark.

When he turned around, the refugees were busily cleaning up the meal.
Not long after, the boat arrived at the pier.
The refugees, with their belongings slung on their backs, murmured in unease.

“Why are government officials waiting at the dock?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Do you think they’re going to send us back to our home villages?”

The state managed its commoners under the igapje system. It was a way to collect taxes steadily, but also a means of preventing people from moving freely between regions.
A tension settled over the ship.
On the dock stood a petty official in official robes, holding ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) a ledger. Four constables stood behind him.

Seeing them, Kwak Yeon briefly wondered if the officials were here for him.
He had caused more than a few blood-soaked incidents in Aknyang and Jeongyang.
Even if the martial world and the government normally regarded each other with mutual indifference, something on that scale couldn’t be ignored entirely.

He hoped they were here for him. A few constables weren’t worth the trouble.
But if they were here to force the refugees back to their hometowns—what then?
All of them were people who could never go back. Their hopes would be crushed.

Yet interfering with government business as a Wudang Daoist would also be problematic.
―Thunk!
As Kwak Yeon stood troubled, the deckhands lowered the plank to the dock.

“Disembark now.”
The refugees hesitated to move, so Kwak Yeon strode down first.
He wanted to see how the officials would respond.

Let it be me they’re here for.
But the petty official only gave Kwak Yeon a passing glance and said nothing. The constables looked on with blank expressions.
So… they’re not after me. Then…

Kwak Yeon stood at the edge of the pier, watching as the refugees disembarked with their belongings on their backs.
As he feared, the petty official addressed the approaching refugees.
“All refugees, prepare your identity tags. Then, in order, state where you’re from and how many family members you have.”

The refugees’ expressions stiffened.
“Sir, may we ask what this is about?”
The petty official answered.

“What, afraid we’re going to haul you back to your hometowns?”
The refugee who asked turned pale, but the official gave a small smile.
“Don’t worry. This is just to verify your identities as part of registering incoming refugees to Sangjeon Village.”

Relief swept over the refugees.
Kwak Yeon, watching from the pier, also let out a breath of relief.
The official checked each refugee’s tag and logged their information before waving them through.

Wang Cheol-go’s family passed without incident as well.
Kwak Yeon, waiting at the end of the dock, said,
“Brother Wang, what a relief.”

“Truly. When they suddenly asked for household records, I was inwardly anxious.”
“Will you be heading straight to Sangjeon Village now?”
“It’s about a sijin and a half from here, so we plan to hurry. And you, Daoist?”

“I’ll take care of a few things here first and join later.”
He didn’t want to burden them by tagging along, but he also had some business to attend to in the market nearby.