Wudang Sacred Scriptures

Seok Geon quietly let go of Kwak Yeon’s collar.
“You bastard. Be glad there were witnesses.”

Kwak Yeon shook his head.
“Who said you get to tuck your tail and walk away?”
“What?”

“You started it, but that doesn’t mean you get to end it whenever you feel like it.”
“So what? What are you gonna do about it? Gonna grab me by the collar or something?”
Kwak Yeon smiled faintly.

“No, I’m thinking I’ll just break your nose. Like this.”
—CRACK!
“Argh! You psycho bastard—!”

Everyone was shocked. They never thought Kwak Yeon would actually throw a punch.
Thick blood dripped between Seok Geon’s fingers as he clutched his nose.
“Shit! My nose!”

Kwak Yeon spoke in a calm voice.
“Seok Geon, now go run to your master and tattle on me. Tell him you picked a fight with a disciple of Eternal Wudang and got socked in the face. I bet he’ll just love that.”
“……?”

“I’ve got nothing to lose. Worst case, I get demoted from Main Sect disciple to Outer Sect. But what about you? If you cause trouble here on Mount Wudang and end up getting sent home early, do you think your father—the head of your noble house—is going to welcome you with open arms? Oh, wait—your other brothers might. Especially since your father probably warned you over and over not to fuck this up.”
Seok Geon’s face turned pale.
“…I’ll just say I bumped into something.”

Kwak Yeon shook his head slowly.
“That’s not gonna cut it.”
“What the hell do you want then? What do I have to do for you to drop it?”
“Apologize for being rude to your older brother.”

“…What?”
“Think carefully, Seok Geon. Between a son who got kicked off Mount Wudang and one who officially became a disciple of the sect, who do you think your father respects more?”
Seok Geon’s face went white.

This leech clearly had no intention of letting things go.
And the way he kept saying “your father, the clan head” was painfully deliberate.
Left with no choice, Seok Geon turned to Seok Jangsan.

“…I’m sorry.”
Kwak Yeon shook his head again.
“Seok Geon, call him brother properly. Isn’t that right?”

“…Jangsan hyung. I’m sorry.”
Seok Jangsan looked at Seok Geon with a dissatisfied expression, then let out a quiet sigh.
“…Fine. Just go.”

Seok Geon rushed back to his group, then shot a glare at Kwak Yeon.
“Kwak Yeon. I’ll never forget this.”
Once things settled down, Seok Jangsan turned to Kwak Yeon.

“That was unnecessary. You think I care about being treated like an older brother?”
“Huh? You don’t? You’ve been acting like one toward me so often, I figured you wanted to be acknowledged that way.”
Kwak Yeon knew full well that Seok Jangsan looked out for him like an older brother.

“Well, I am older than you.”
Seok Jangsan let out a small laugh, then continued with a hardened expression.
“It was satisfying, sure, but it doesn’t change anything.”

“I know.”
Kwak Yeon nodded.
“But at least you got treated like a proper big brother this once. Like they say, the first step is half the battle. If it happens a few more times, it'll start to come naturally.”

Seok Jangsan chuckled softly.
“Sometimes I forget how damn simple you are.”
“What’s wrong with being simple? When things get complicated and messy, thinking simple is better.”

“…?”
“I’m saying keep your eyes on what’s in front of you. Think only about the reason your father sent you here as the school head.”
Seok Jangsan realized, with startling clarity, why Kwak Yeon had stepped in like that. He had suspected it already.

“Anyway… thanks. I was this close to losing it.”
“Don’t you always say not to thank friends?”
“Cheeky bastard… Still, I’m worried. Seok Geon’s not the type to let this slide during the Contest for the Pearls.”

“Even better. That’s exactly what I want.”
“…Huh? Ah. So that’s why you provoked him even more.”
Kwak Yeon nodded.

“Wouldn’t say I planned it, but I can’t lie and say I didn’t hope for it. The opportunity presented itself—how could I pass that up?”
Seok Jangsan’s expression briefly showed admiration, then turned grim again.
“But the news of what just happened will get out soon. That’s the problem.”

They weren’t the only ones who witnessed the scuffle in the dining hall. The instructors from the Precepts Hall would hear about it soon enough.
Kwak Yeon shrugged, unfazed.
“You think the instructors at the Precepts Hall are really gonna raise hell because one of their own picked a fight with an Eternal Wudang disciple and got punched? Especially when that same disciple insists he just tripped and broke his nose?”

“Ah…!”
Kwak Yeon flashed a sly smile and added,
“For now, let’s just focus on the Contest.”

He turned to look at the noble-born Outer Sect disciples huddled at a table across the dining hall.
Seok Geon, with a blood-stained cloth shoved up his nose, was ranting furiously.
 

****
During the intermission between martial bouts, the Contest for the Pearls began.
It was a rare occasion where the Lords of the Six Palaces had gathered in one place to watch their disciples duel.

Upon seeing the two teams of children enter the grand arena, the Lord of Namam Palace spoke.
“Looking at those kids brings back memories. We used to have so much fun playing the Contest back in the day.”
“Indeed. Feels like just yesterday, doesn’t it?”

“But isn’t this match-up way too lopsided? The Eternal Wudang disciples are going up against noble-born disciples from the Precepts Hall who were scouted as frontline warriors.”
“You said it. If Eternal Wudang lasts even half a round, they’ll be lucky.”
Instructor Hyeonmun listened to the conversation drifting down from the honored seats above, and his heart sank even further.

‘I never should’ve brought them here.’
It was far too late now to make excuses or back out.
The moment they arrived at the Precepts Hall, the Grand Elder had started calling Instructor Hyeonmun nonstop—clearly trying to keep him separated from the Eternal Wudang disciples.

The moment their eyes met—those calm, deliberate eyes—he knew for sure.
‘There’s no backing out of this now.’
The Eternal Wudang disciples stepped shirtless into the center of the Grand Arena.

The noble-born disciples of the Outer Sect followed next, removing their upper garments and stepping into the center of the Grand Arena. But the contrast between the two sides was striking.
The noble-born disciples had lean, well-toned, and smooth upper bodies, while the Eternal Wudang disciples had muscular frames covered in scars.
It was like comparing smooth, straight paulownia wood to a knotty, weathered pine.

“The Contest for the Pearls may involve wooden balls lighter than metal and no use of hands, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. Remember, this is just a game—don’t overdo it.”
Hyeonho Dojang, one of # Nоvеlight # the first-generation instructors from the Precepts Hall, cautioned the disciples before officially declaring the start of the contest.
“Each disciple, carry one wooden ball and spread out into position!”

As the Eternal Wudang disciples and the noble-born disciples from the Precepts Hall positioned themselves in the center of the arena, Hyeonho Dojang shouted again.
“Begin the Contest for the Pearls by rolling your wooden ball over your upper body!”
Whirrrrr!

The wooden balls began spinning all at once across the disciples’ chests and shoulders.
The hum of fourteen spinning wooden balls echoed across the Grand Arena.
“They’ve got solid fundamentals, at least.”

As lords of the Six Palaces, it was only natural that they could judge a disciple’s level of training at a glance.
They were quietly impressed.
Then, watching the Eternal Wudang disciples slowly form into a formation, the Lord of Okheo Palace tilted her head.

“Is that... the Seven Star Formation?”
“Not quite. It’s a sloppy attempt at shaping themselves like the seven stars, but it’s far from the real thing.”
Grand Elder Unhak Jin-in, upon seeing it, assumed that Eternal Wudang’s head, Instructor Hyeonmun, had tried to prepare something at least.

He must’ve realized there was no way to raise their skills in such a short time and opted for a desperate strategy.
But a formation isn’t something that can be casually thrown together. It requires a deep understanding of its inner principles and countless hours of synchronized practice. Mimicking the shape alone would only backfire and become a hindrance.
As Grand Elder Unhak Jin-in smiled in satisfaction, Instructor Hyeonmun sat in the lower platform, frowning deeply.

So that’s what they were practicing every evening—some half-baked formation. Should’ve taken a closer look.
If he had, he would’ve told them to quit wasting their time on such useless tricks.
Watching the Eternal Wudang disciples huddled together while the noble-born Precepts Hall disciples began to surround them, he was filled with regret.

They couldn’t stall for time anymore. Now it was only a matter of time before the match ended in the worst possible way.
Shuaa! Shuaa!
The noble-born disciples of the Precepts Hall moved like lightning—rolling their wooden balls across their bodies with perfect control even at high speed.

It meant they had fully grasped and mastered the mysteries of Taiji.
The balls glided effortlessly along their torsos, never interfering with their movement.
In contrast, the Eternal Wudang disciples struggled to maintain even basic flow while standing still. Their movements were jerky, uncoordinated.

It was like watching grown adults up against toddlers learning to walk.
“Hyah!”
Finally, one of the noble-born disciples—Yang Jin—charged into the midst of the Eternal Wudang group, his wooden ball spinning behind his back, partially hidden.

His tactic was clear.
He aimed to disrupt the leading Eternal Wudang disciple’s balance and make him drop his wooden ball.
As Yang Jin suddenly crashed into him, Ho Cheoljung panicked and tried to roll his ball hastily over to his right shoulder.

“Not so fast!”
As if expecting it, Yang Jin spun in close contact, smoothly shifting his own ball to his side. With a pivot, he shoved his opponent while attempting to guide the opponent’s wooden ball onto his own left shoulder.
Whump!

As expected, Eternal Wudang’s Ho Cheoljung was helplessly pushed back.
It was inevitable.
He’d been too focused on maintaining control of the wooden ball.

Easy, Yang Jin thought, feeling pleased that he had scored the first point for the noble-born disciples.
He had pushed his opponent away, and now the opponent’s ball, momentarily airborne, would surely land on his own shoulder.
But—

Huh?
The airborne ball wasn’t falling.
“Hmph!”

Suddenly, Yang Jin felt a sharp pain shoot through the back of his knee.
Ho Cheoljung had driven his knee into the inside of Yang Jin’s knee joint.
“Guh!”

Thrown off balance, Yang Jin nearly lost control of his ball spinning at his side. Desperately, he raised it to his chest and gave it another spin.
Whirrrr!
At that moment, Ho Cheoljung lunged in and headbutted Yang Jin square in the solar plexus.

Thud!
“You son of a—”
Ho Cheoljung had no wooden ball on him. He was moving freely.

But according to the rules of the Contest, he should’ve been seated in place, no?
Ah—!
The wooden ball hadn’t touched the ground—it was still in the air.

Ho Cheoljung had flicked it upward with his shoulder at the last second, sending it soaring.
As Yang Jin stumbled backward, gasping from the blow to his chest, Ho Cheoljung caught Yang Jin’s wooden ball with the back of his head, guided it to his right shoulder, and stepped back just in time to catch his own falling ball on his left shoulder.
Just like that, Ho Cheoljung now had two wooden balls, one balanced on each shoulder.

“Yang Jin, eliminated!”
Hyeonho Dojang, acting as referee, made the official call.
Yang Jin immediately shouted back.

“Instructor! He threw his ball—he let it leave his body! That’s against the rules!”
Hyeonho Dojang hesitated.