Wudang Sacred Scriptures

The sound was a ripple of air. There was no way to control the spreading waves of energy moving in all directions.
Of course, by invoking the Realm of Ascension, one could reduce the sound produced by their own movements.
Kwak Yeon had also learned Night Travel Techniques, a basic martial skill taught at Yeongmudang.
The problem, however, was noise coming from external sources.
Even now, approaching the office wasn’t particularly difficult—but opening the window would inevitably make noise.
What’s more, if the latch inside was secured tightly, breaking it would be unavoidable.
The extra shutters of the window were crafted with Wudang’s renowned precision technique, Myeonjanggong, so they would stay intact, but the sound of a latch breaking? That couldn’t be avoided.
No matter how cautious one was, there was no way to prevent all noise entirely.
That was why he had chosen broad daylight instead of the stillness of night.
In the quiet of night, sound traveled farther and became a greater problem. By contrast, during the day, ambient noise helped conceal smaller disturbances.
For that reason, Kwak Yeon had made a difficult request to Danmok Seong, a senior figure of the martial world, though it was rather shameless of him—to cause as much noise as possible out in the central courtyard.
And right now, Danmok Seong was carrying out that task brilliantly.
Kwak Yeon could sense that the eyes and ears of the two guards stationed by the office door were entirely focused toward the inner garden.
That flamboyantly titled martial grandmaster was loudly airing old martial secrets for all to hear. And considering the person at the center of those secrets was none other than their superior, the current head of the Sangwan Clan, how could they not be all ears?
“Your Ice Palm Master sent me a duel challenge back then, did he? Quite bold for a newcomer to the Jianghu, I must say.”
Danmok Seong’s voice carried from beyond the inner garden wall, reaching a dramatic peak. At that moment, Kwak Yeon slipped out from the shadow of the roof ridge.
Shhhht!
For Kwak Yeon, moving across rooftops like a ghost was as easy as breathing. Descending beneath ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ the eaves was no more difficult.
Even when he’d possessed not a shred of internal energy, he had passed through the treacherous Sakkat Peak of Mount Jeorae with nothing but body technique and physical endurance.
Slithering down under the eaves like a lizard, Kwak Yeon dangled upside down like a bat.
Ever since stepping into the Jianghu, Kwak Yeon had often marveled at the effectiveness of Wudang Mountain’s rigorous foundational training.
The reason he had been able to manifest vacuum techniques stemmed from that very foundation, and his rapid martial progress owed itself to those basics as well.
Though, the harsh management style and brutal training methods of the instructors still left lingering resentment in his heart.
While Kwak Yeon was calming the expenditure of internal energy consumed by performing the highest-grade Realm of Ascension, Danmok Seong’s booming voice continued beyond the garden wall.
“Even after I firmly rejected him, your Ice Palm Master barged into my quarters, didn’t he? Stubborn as a mule, that one. Hah-hah-hah! And do you know what I did next?”
“Of course not, sir.”
“Oh? Right, of course. Then take a guess.”
“Taesang Clan Head, wouldn’t it be better to continue this discussion inside the main hall?”
“Heh! Clan Lord, why so impatient?”
“The tea we prepared is growing cold.”
“Mm! My teeth aren’t what they used to be, cold tea suits me better. In any case, let me just finish my story first…”
Kwak Yeon focused entirely on the window.
Even for someone like Danmok Seong, there was a limit to how long he could stall for time.
Just as Kwak Yeon was positioning himself to use Myeonjanggong to break the latch of the window, he suddenly recalled the stern-faced instructor of Yeongmudang.
‘If Master Hyunmun saw me using Myeonjanggong for the work of a mere “Gentleman on the Beam” (a fancy term for thief), what would he say?’
Most likely: “If your intentions are righteous, what does it matter how you use your skills?”
Given his personality—the belief that a martial artist must act decisively for justice—it was probably exactly what he’d say.
Shaking off the idle thoughts, Kwak Yeon carefully tested the window, gauging the size of the latch.
Click.
Surprisingly, the window slid open with ease.
Though startled by the unexpected stroke of luck, Kwak Yeon quickly understood why.
In the rush of receiving Danmok Seong—a martial grandmaster of such high renown—the manager of Cheongujang, Sangwan Jin-ho, must have forgotten to secure the windows.
Once again, Kwak Yeon thought it was providence that he had encountered Danmok Seong on the road. Of course, he had promised to repay that favor properly.
In truth, Kwak Yeon had been hoping for a martial duel with Danmok Seong. He wanted to confront the wall of energy he had sensed at Guando Pass firsthand.
‘But that comes after all this business is done.’
Like mist seeping through cracks, Kwak Yeon slipped inside the room and quietly shut the window behind him.

The inner garden remained loud with Danmok Seong’s robust voice.
“I had no choice, so I faced your Ice Palm Master directly. And then, without warning, he drew his sword…”
Finding the safe inside the empty office was easy.
The problem was, the safe was locked tight.
‘One stroke of luck is enough.’
Kwak Yeon had already seen that Sangwan Jin-ho, heading toward the inner garden, had the key hanging from his waist.
It was as expected, so Kwak Yeon wasn’t flustered.
A key wasn’t the only way to open a locked door.
The sealed safe reminded him of his life.
No one had ever handed him the key—but in the end, he always found a way. This safe would be no exception.
If he used brute force with Myeonjanggong, the metal would make a tremendous noise.
Instead, Kwak Yeon inserted a slender iron pick he had prepared into the keyhole.
Clink.
Something inside caught on the tip of the iron pick and shifted slightly.
‘The latch.’
Confirming the presence of the latch behind the iron door, Kwak Yeon gathered energy for Yang Heart Divine Art—the foreign spiritual cultivation technique of Western sects—and ignited his internal Yang energy.
A scorching heat coursed through his meridians.
Suppressing the blazing energy as it flowed through his vital points, he refined it into pure, concentrated heat, draining his internal reserves considerably.
Thanks to building his foundation with Primordial Harmonious Art, he could extract only the desired heat.
The Yang energy surged from his palm, traveled along the iron pick, and poured into the latch.
Wuuunng.
Kwak Yeon felt a faint metallic vibration, like the iron was softly groaning. Judging the latch sufficiently heated, he retracted the Yang energy.
Next, he circulated the Yin-cold energy of Yang Heart Divine Art.
As the Yin energy traveled down the iron pick, a sharp sizzle rang out.
It was the sound of overheated metal rapidly cooling.
Frost formed even at the keyhole as Kwak Yeon blasted Yang energy into the latch again.
Beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
The latch, heated in an instant and then chilled just as swiftly, began to crack microscopically.
Crack.
On the fourth infusion of Yin-cold energy, a clear fracture sound echoed faintly.
‘That should be enough.’
Stuffing cloth into the keyhole to muffle noise, Kwak Yeon unleashed his Sword Force.
Chrrrng! Psshh!
The latch shrieked in protest before shattering apart with a subdued pop.
Multiple fractures had already weakened it, and with the keyhole stuffed, much of the sound was contained.
Still, cautious as ever, Kwak Yeon opened his senses wide and waited.
“…”
Hearing no reaction from the guards outside, Kwak Yeon finally opened the safe.
Clunk.
The safe door swung wide without resistance.
One by one, Kwak Yeon pulled out every document and stuffed them into the sack he had brought.
‘The snare is now mine. But they mustn’t realize the snare is missing. Only then will they reveal the hand trying to tighten the noose tomorrow.’
Kwak Yeon didn’t intend to simply destroy the contracts.
He wanted to expose Sangwan Jin-ho’s despicable schemes to all the martial world and ensure Sangjeon Village’s long-term safety.
For that, the manager couldn’t discover the missing documents.
‘In that case…’
Closing the safe door, Kwak Yeon placed his palm upon it.
He maximized his Yang energy with Yin-Yang Divine Art.
Ziiiiing.
The iron door glowed red-hot, emitting a faint wail.
Grrrrnch.
The door expanded from the heat, wedging itself tightly into the frame.
Stopping before the deformation became suspicious, Kwak Yeon cooled the door with Yin energy, then tested it.
Clunk.
The door, which had shifted slightly, now stuck perfectly, impossible to open.
Satisfied that the safe’s exterior showed no signs of tampering, Kwak Yeon rose to his feet.
No one would ever suspect an intruder had been here.
Slipping out the window and closing it behind him, Kwak Yeon left the office shrouded in silence.
Only a faint lingering warmth subtly heated the air.
 
****
“Damn that chatty old bastard.”
Returning to his office after seeing off Danmok Seong, the Taesang Clan Head, and Danmok Cheong, the Clan Heir, Sangwan Jin-ho couldn’t suppress a curse.
Every word from Danmok Seong had been pure nonsense.
And he’d repeated himself over and over.
Listening made one’s ears bleed.
If not for the fact that Danmok Seong was the Taesang Clan Head of the Danmok Clan and one of the Twenty-Eight Celestial Lodges, a Grandmaster of unmatched reputation, Sangwan Jin-ho would have left under any pretext.
The old man was downright bizarre.
“I’ve never heard rumors about him being this talkative.”
At this rate, his reputation should’ve been infamous.
“Do people just get more talkative with age?”
And stubborn as hell.
Truly, Danmok Seong was an impossible elder to deal with.
He’d heard Danmok In-ryong had never once left the Danmok Clan. His sphere of movement was so small, people sneered, calling him the “Dragon in the Well.”
Yet suddenly, he’d crossed Lake Dongjeong and appeared here in Jeongeum.
‘Even if Sangjeon Village’s Grand Academician is famous, would a “Dragon in the Well” really leave his pond for that?’
Scratching his head, Sangwan Jin-ho wondered if the Danmok Clan had finally recognized Sangjeon Village’s true value and were eyeing it hungrily.
It made sense.
Perhaps that’s why they’d visited Cheongujang, which governed Sangjeon Village.
Normally, neither Danmok In-ryong nor the Clan Heir would even glance at a mere branch like Cheongujang, not even a formal sub-clan.
‘No doubt about it. Hmph! But it’s already too late.’
Tomorrow, Danmok Seong would realize that for himself. He’d witness Sangwan Clan’s grand charity toward the common folk.
And with a Grandmaster like Danmok In-ryong present to legitimize it, no one would dare covet Sangjeon Village again.
Sangjeon Village’s ownership would fully transfer to Cheongujang—as a formal branch of the Sangwan Clan.
Satisfied, Sangwan Jin-ho considered it a fair price for enduring that torturous conversation.
Arriving at his office, he addressed the two guards.
“Everything quiet?”
“Yes, Clan Manager.”
“Not even a rat stirred.”
As expected.
Wearing a satisfied grin, Sangwan Jin-ho opened the office door.
“…Hm?”
The air inside felt strangely warm.
‘Because the doors and windows were shut?’
But even so, something felt off.
Sangwan Jin-ho slowly scanned the room.
“…?”
Nothing looked out of place.
‘Am I just being paranoid? Probably that old bastard’s rambling heated me up too much.’
Shaking his head, Sangwan Jin-ho pulled out the key from his waist, heading toward the safe behind the desk.