Mount Wudang
The next day, Hyeongong appeared at the Guest Hall. Unlike the day before, his expression was vacant, as if his spirit had left him.
Namgung Myeong seemed to intuitively understand just from that look.
He sprang lightly to his feet and, with steps as weightless as a feather, approached Hyeongong.
"Just by looking, I can tell."
As soon as Namgung Myeong spoke, Hyeongong's face returned to its usual composure—though it was already too late.
"Tell what?"
"I thought it odd that you didn't follow us out right away yesterday and stayed behind in Hyuncheondang. I figured something was up."
Rubbing his chin with his right hand, Namgung Myeong smirked crookedly.
"Since you're walking around, it's not confinement. That leaves only one thing. Did Wudang expel you?"
Hyeongong's face stiffened. He hadn't betrayed any obvious clue, yet Namgung Myeong's words struck straight to the mark.
In his mind, the conversation he had with Elder Yeongbo the day before replayed itself.
***
"Hyeongong. Helping Tang Mujin fight assassins was not the problem. But to lie to the Master of the Taeui Sword Sect and be caught—that immaturity leaves me speechless."
Hyeongong prostrated himself and held his tongue. Even excuses must be timed carefully.
Elder Yeongbo continued.
"It ended quietly only because your opponent was the Master of the Taeui Sword Sect, because you still held the stronger justification, and because Tang Mujin had already extended his goodwill. Think about it. If I made a similar mistake between the heads of the Zhongnan Sect and the Huashan Sect, do you think I could smooth it over?"
His words pierced Hyeongong's chest like a blade. Lowering his head further, Hyeongong answered:
"...It would not be easy."
"In my view, your mistakes always come from the same root."
"What root?"
"People always bind themselves. How tightly, and with what, differs for each person. And now I see clearly what binds you: you always try to appear perfect in front of others."
Hyeongong fumbled for words.
"I never thought of it that way, but..."
"No. I say this with certainty. You care too much for others' eyes and judgments. That is why you weave lies at every turn, merely to escape the moment."
A long silence followed.
Hyeongong's heart pounded painfully. Not a single word of Yeongbo's was wrong.
Though he could not see the world as a whole, Elder Yeongbo's innate insight allowed him to read people's hearts more deeply than anyone.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"Hyeongong."
"Yes, Elder."
"Leave Wudang."
"...What?"
"As it happens, good ties have come to Wudang. Go with them, and leave."
It felt as if Hyeongong's world crumbled. Was his dream of becoming sect leader already shattered?
Seeing his expression, Elder Yeongbo smiled.
"I do not mean never return. Look far, experience much, and come back a greater man. Just because I shut myself in Mount Wudang does not mean you should confine yourself to Mount Wudang or Hubei."
Still bowed, Hyeongong raised his head slightly to gauge Yeongbo's true intention.
It sounded like kind advice, but he could not be sure his words matched his heart.
In the worst case, this might truly be his last day at Wudang.
What if he slipped back months later, only to be driven out again?
Banishing once was difficult, but preventing a return was not.
Countless thoughts crowded his mind.
"If I'm expelled now, it's over. I'll never establish myself on Mount Wudang."
"No, building ties with Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae is also important. In the long term, that could be better. A crisis is an opportunity."
"But what if, in my absence, others seize the chance to impress the elders and secure the position of next or future sect leader?"
"Still, Wudang will grow stronger. External ties are vital. Beyond Namgung and Hong, I could meet even greater people and form bonds. So what if I never become sect leader? If people see me as greater than the sect leader, that will suffice."
Positive and negative prospects churned endlessly in his head.
Yet a weight pressed at his chest. Being forced onto a path always bred unease.
"Bear that in mind, and withdraw."
"Yes, Elder."
Hyeongong had no choice.
Elder Yeongbo waved him off lightly, and he left HyuncheonTang in silence.
***
When his recollection ended, the first thing he saw was Namgung Myeong's face blooming with laughter.
Namgung chuckled.
"See? I knew you'd end up like me someday."
"...Like you?"
"Expelled, of course."
"I wasn't expelled. I'm only traveling the world for a while..."
He stopped, then frowned. The more important part was the phrase Namgung had used.
"Wait. Like you? Were you expelled from the Namgung clan?"
"That's right."
At that, Hong Geolgae chimed in:
"Know who cut off his left arm? His own father did! Sword Demon Namgung Jincheon!"
Hyeongong thought it was a crude joke, but Namgung Myeong did not deny it.
In his mind, Namgung's value plummeted straight down.
Background score revoked.
His expression grew cold.
"Hold it. Don't lump me in with you, Namgung. I'm only wandering to broaden my learning. Elder Yeongbo told me to return as a greater man."
"My father said the same. Told me to come back grown-up. And when we met again, he cut off my arm."
Hyeongong's voice rose.
"You and I are not the same!"
But Namgung's taunts didn't stop.
"Mark my words. When you return to Wudang, Elder Yeongbo will cut off your left arm himself. It's already written. It just follows naturally."
Absurd. Yet Namgung spoke with strange conviction, his look that of a senior regarding a junior.
Hyeongong glared at him, then hesitated and moved toward Hong Geolgae, his expression softening again.
"Hong Geolgae. Did you accept Namgung even knowing his circumstances? Truly magnanimous. Worthy of a future successor."
Hong Geolgae asked back:
"Future successor?"
"Of course. You already have five knots, don't you?"
"You must be mistaken. Future successors have eight."
"I know. But since you're designated, you must have received five knots at your age already. When officially confirmed, you'll gain three more."
"No. I'm Deputy Vice Leader of the Central Division—that's why I have five knots."
Hyeongong burst out laughing.
"Naïve fellow. At that age, to be recognized by Elder Geolseon as deputy vice leader—that's as good as being chosen as successor. Even I know it usually takes until fifty to earn such a post."
Hong Geolgae shrugged.
"I wasn't appointed by Elder Geolseon."
"Then by whom?"
"Not long ago, when I stopped in Chongqing, Elder Hongmyeon Nogae suddenly handed me his post. I was half-asleep and completely flustered."
Hyeongong stepped back two paces, his estimation of Hong Geolgae also dropping sharply.
Still, being a deputy vice leader of Beggars' Sect was worth something. Considering his martial ability was behind Namgung's, their combined "scores" were about even—only now in the negative.
His breathing grew labored. Both men he had considered lifelines had turned out to be disappointments.
With cold eyes, he looked at them, then briskly turned to Tang Mujin.
This time, he felt no hesitation. Tang Mujin had gained his standing not from background, but from pure ability.
In the end, what matters is one's own worth, not mere background.
Scratching his head with a sheepish smile, Hyeongong spoke:
"Tang Mujin. I owe you an apology. I thought I was showing you the greatest sword under heaven by bringing you to Mount Wudang, but it turned out to be a sword you yourself had forged. I prided myself on recognizing the finest swords, but it seems I lacked the eyes to recognize the finest blacksmith."
It was a refined gesture—lowering himself while praising both Tang Mujin and his Songmun Ancient Sword.
Most people would have been flustered at such words, but Tang Mujin remained calm throughout. Hyeongong was impressed.
As expected. He has the ability to deserve such praise. This was the right alliance to choose.
Tang Mujin asked:
"It's fine. So, what brings you here?"
"Elder Yeongbo asked me to fetch you. It seems he intends to give you the gift he mentioned yesterday."
"A gift... I see. Should I head straight to Hyuncheondang?"
"Yes. Shall I escort you?"
"No need. I'll go on my own."
"While you're at Hyuncheondang, I'll get your belongings ready. You're leaving for Chengdu tomorrow, right?"
At Hyeongong's question, Tang Mujin shook his head.
"No. Before Chengdu, I'll stop in Yangyang."
"Yangyang? Why?"
"There's something I left behind."
Tang Mujin gave a faint smile.
***
Tang Mujin made his way to HyuncheonTang without a guide.
"I'm coming in."
He carefully looked around inside, but the hall was empty.
Stepping back outside, he glanced around until he found Elder Yeongbo in the rear courtyard, seated upon a flat stone like a go board, eyes closed.
Tang Mujin approached and bowed with clasped fists.
"I heard you called for me."
Elder Yeongbo opened his eyes.
"Yes. You know why I summoned you, don't you?"
"Because yesterday you said you'd give me a gift."
The first gift that came to Tang Mujin's mind was the medicinal elixir Hyeongong had mentioned before they came to Mount Wudang. But such things held little appeal for him. Since taking the Great Rejuvenation Pill, he was convinced no elixir would benefit him further.
Namgung Myeong, who had surely consumed his share of tonics, must have been in the same situation.
Tang Mujin had even thought, If I do receive an elixir, I'll give it to Hong Geolgae instead. He could imagine all too well how miserable and bitter life must be for a first-rate martial artist stuck at the bottom.
But Elder Yeongbo did not bring out an elixir. Instead, he presented the Songmun Ancient Sword.
"I don't intend to take this sword back."
Tang Mujin replied with some reluctance.
"I never meant to keep it. It's far too precious to return—this old man cannot cast away such greed. No, what I intend to give you is experience."
"Experience?"
"Yes. No matter how I thought on it, I could find no fitting gift. I am not wealthy, nor widely connected, and I cannot freely wander anymore. All I have in abundance is experience. And I have just enough to share a little with a young warrior struggling to break through his wall."
Elder Yeongbo picked up a wooden practice sword from behind him. Unlike Hong Geolgae's heavy staff, it was an ordinary blade carved from wood.
He stood it upright.
"Now then. Strike me with all your strength."
"Understood."
Tang Mujin did not ask, 'Is this really okay?' He had already met several supreme masters, and not one of them had been the least bit ordinary. Not approachable, not even remotely.
And among those supreme masters, Elder Yeongbo was famed for his overwhelming defense.
There was no reason to worry about striking into the three-steps radius that no other master had ever breached.
"Here I come."
He opened with the technique he trusted most—Pierce (Cheom).
Tang Mujin thrust cleanly forward—
—or tried to. But Yeongbo's wooden sword pressed lightly against his fingertips, stopping his arm before it could even extend fully.
Tang Mujin flowed into the techniques of the Heart-Needle Sword, the style taught to him by the strange recluse. It was the only sword art he had ever learned.
Yet not a single move could unfold properly. Before his forms could even take shape, Yeongbo's sword extended and cut them off in advance.
He would flick the flat of the Songmun Sword aside, disrupting its path. He would tap a meridian a beat ahead, bending Mujin's arm. He would aim at fingertips, denying the blade its course.
Mujin finally withdrew, shoulders slumping.
"Your martial skill is truly extraordinary. But somehow... it leaves me strangely deflated."
Elder Yeongbo gave an awkward smile, realizing his mistake.
"Oh dear. My apologies. Try again."
This time, he did not smother Mujin's techniques. Every form of the Heart-Needle Sword was executed cleanly. Only—none had even the slightest chance of reaching him.
I can't understand it at all.
Not long ago, Hyeongong's swordplay against assassins had seemed formidable.
Against him, one felt every strike would be blocked.
But Yeongbo's defense was on another level entirely.
Before he even swung, Mujin knew: Even if I commit my all, my sword will never touch him.
Clean forms, flawlessly executed—yet they held no meaning.
It felt like endlessly slashing at the surface of a vast lake.
A defense so absolute, it erased not only his will to fight, but even the intent to attack.
Though Elder Yeongbo had no legs, masters like Huayeon Shin-ni and Namgung Jincheon had never pitied him. No one dared call the world unfair.
Only after swinging his sword at him did Tang Mujin understand why.
If Elder Yeongbo had legs, then the world would truly be unfair.
Tang Mujin's blade slipped gently into Yeongbo's, twisted, and dropped from his hands.
Yeongbo set both swords neatly down.
"I see what's wrong."
"What is wrong, Elder?"
"The sword art you've learned is filled with resentment and rage. It doesn't suit one with a gentle nature like yours. And yet, you're absorbing that resentment and rage, letting it shape you. Why must you resemble the sword art itself?"