Wudang Sacred Scriptures-Chapter 65

As Kwak Yeon reenacted the movement himself, he realized it wasn’t just designed to deflect an opponent’s energy strike. The form drove that force forward with fierce and ruthless intent.

At first, he had assumed it was merely a technique for controlling force—refined, not lethal. But that assumption was wrong. It wasn’t a neutral form; it accelerated the opponent’s own energy and turned it back on them. Inevitably, it would cause real harm.

Worse yet, it did so deviously—layering power atop the enemy’s attack with subtle precision.

A legitimate technique from Wudang that turns your enemy into pulp?

For the first time, Kwak Yeon felt a disconnect from the Wudang martial arts he knew.

Then, something clicked. A memory surfaced—one of Wudang’s most revered advanced techniques: the Principle of Four Ounces Moving a Thousand Pounds.

But that technique, though powerful, held no malice. It was elegant redirection, not slaughter.

The closest thing he’d ever heard to what he was now witnessing... was a forbidden demonic art—Heaven and Earth Transposition, a sinister martial technique known to the Demon Cult. A method that seized the forces of heaven and earth and rearranged them at will.

But even that ruthless technique... I’ve never heard it described as this brutal.

Still unsettled, Kwak Yeon carried the movement through to the end, replicating it fully.

And when he did, he was even more shaken.

Every form he traced was laced with a single overwhelming intent: to reduce the enemy to pulp. There was no ambiguity about it—this art was crafted to kill.

He couldn’t understand it.

How could such a savage martial art exist here, in the Immortal’s Room—the sacred heart of Wudang?

Especially when legend said this ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) place waited for a destined inheritor bound by spiritual affinity. Why, then, would it offer such a murderous inheritance?

Driven by the question, Kwak Yeon turned his full attention to reconstructing the second martial technique carved into the stone.

Surely, this next technique will contain a counterbalance to the killing intent in the first. Something to neutralize it.

He clung to the hope that these were preserved solely for their martial brilliance—that the killing intent was an unfortunate remnant, not the core.

But after three full cycles of the full moon—exiting and entering the Immortal’s Room—Kwak Yeon finally pieced together the second technique.

And was utterly aghast.

This is... an even more evil martial art than the last.

What surfaced in his mind was a legendary demonic practice: Essence-Draining Technique—a forbidden method that siphoned the opponent’s internal energy and absorbed it as one’s own.

Kwak Yeon had trained long in martial footwork that harmonized with energy accumulation. So he recognized it immediately.

This technique shared the same principle: circulate your own energy while moving. But the difference here was horrifying—every movement contained a method to continuously extract and devour the opponent’s internal energy.

If it had a name, Kwak Yeon thought grimly, it might be called Essence Extraction.

Wudang had a martial discipline known as the Great Purification Technique, which could absorb and redistribute hostile energy. But that was a righteous art, meant to purify invasive forces—not forcibly rip energy from another’s core.

These techniques carved into the stone... were nothing like Wudang’s.

Which led Kwak Yeon to a chilling realization.

Then... these couldn’t have been left behind by Wudang’s founder.

Pondering this, he formulated a new hypothesis.

If it had truly been left by the founder of Wudang, he would have named the art, even if he passed it on only in secret.

In other words, this wasn’t a legacy of Wudang.

It was a relic of a demon—an ancient martial heretic.

The Immortal’s Room had been sealed since the time of Grandmaster Jang Sam-bong himself. That meant these martial inscriptions were older—possibly far older.

If Jang Sam-bong had seen these techniques... then perhaps he had studied them and refined them into Wudang’s current martial canon.

With that possibility in mind, Kwak Yeon turned to the third and final martial technique—burning with curiosity.

If that theory holds... then surely Grandmaster Jang Sam-bong, the greatest of Wudang’s sages, must have left behind a countermeasure. Something to right the balance.

Only after five more full moons did Kwak Yeon manage to reconstruct the third technique in full. And when he did, the impact shook him to his core.

As he performed the completed form, a realization dawned: Dual-Mind Technique.

A martial art that allowed the practitioner to operate both yin and yang energies simultaneously—a dual cultivation method so perilous, it was often mistaken for demonic sorcery.

Each movement radiated devastating killing intent. He had never studied this particular technique before, but its nature was unmistakable. It matched what he had once heard of Dual-Mind Method—the ability to split one’s consciousness and wield two martial paths at once.

This was no longer a hypothesis.

Grandmaster Jang Sam-bong must have seen these demonic arts—and forged new paths from them. That’s how he created the Dual-Mind Technique.

Wudang’s greatest techniques—the Four Ounces Principle, the Great Purification, and even the Dual-Mind Method—had all sprung from the roots of demonic arts.

It was no wonder Kwak Yeon was stunned.

And now... he found himself spiraling into confusion.

Was this savage martial legacy truly the inheritance prepared for the one chosen by fate?

Did they expect the destined inheritor... to embrace these demonic arts and become a demon themselves?

Kwak Yeon couldn’t comprehend it.

Reeling from the revelation, he suddenly heard an ear-splitting roar that shook the earth.

KRRAAA-KOOOOM!

Unlike previous nights, the sound didn’t echo from one direction—it surged simultaneously from both sides of the Immortal’s Room.

A memory slammed into him. A warning from Daoist Hyehae.

“Judging from the celestial patterns, the full moon this month will be the most intense of the year. You must leave the Immortal’s Room before nightfall.”

Kwak Yeon had forgotten.

He knew that during nights of the full moon, yin and yang energies would both surge, without respite, all through the night.

Even with the fortified barrier inside the chamber, he would be overwhelmed if he stayed.

Too late to escape.

Already, the biting yin and searing yang energies were piercing his skin.

Kwak Yeon dropped into a seated posture and began circulating his Tai Chi Internal Skill.

But immediately, he ran into trouble.

Tai Chi’s method involved alternating between the Conception and Governing Meridians in rhythmic cycles.

Up until now, the energies of yin and yang had entered in alternating flows. Tai Chi worked perfectly under that condition.

But now... the energies were slamming into him at the same time.

The most violent surge of yin-yang force in the entire year had arrived.

He could feel his internal core—his dantian—boiling over, unable to settle into a path.

If this keeps up, my dantian will rupture.

He had to find a release. Somehow.

Trying to circulate through the Conception Meridian only drew in more cold yin energy. Trying to channel through the Governing Meridian brought a flood of fiery yang.

The chamber had become a battleground. Yin and yang collided in chaos, raging in an unending war.

If it were just one full cycle, he could focus his will elsewhere, as he had before. But this wasn’t a cycle.

It was simultaneous. Continuous. Unrelenting.

And if he failed to endure it, he wouldn’t just lose focus—he’d lose everything.

This wasn’t just about spiritual damage. It wasn’t like Daoist Cheongmu, who’d merely lost a portion of his memory.

He could become a living husk. A mindless shell.

I have to survive this with my full mind intact. The only thing I can rely on... is my energy circulation.

In that desperate moment, Kwak Yeon remembered the third technique.

Split your consciousness.

Yes... I’ll circulate both meridians at once. Conception and Governing—together.

He forced open his dantian, now on the verge of exploding.

He had never walked this path before. But better to risk the unknown than to lose his inner core forever.

A life without dreams is no life at all.

With unwavering focus, Kwak Yeon divided his intent and opened both meridian channels wide. He began circulating his energy through both pathways at once.

Immediately, his inner power split into two streams. And the opposing yin and yang energies began to chase after them, each finding its path.

It worked.

As the internal force erupted from Kwak Yeon's core and split along both the Conception and Governing Meridians, his swollen dantian finally subsided.

But his relief was short-lived. Something was wrong.

Instead of circling back to his core through the usual pathways at the forehead and nape, the energy surged wildly toward the Crown Point at the top of his skull.

It’s out of control.

Then he understood.

The overwhelming storm of yin and yang energy inside the Immortal’s Room had flooded his meridians and overpowered his internal circulation. His own energy was no longer obeying him.

The Crown Point—also known as the Gate of Life and Death—was the most dangerous of all pressure points. Mishandling it could mean instant death. There was a reason it was called the fatal point.

Now both streams of energy—one from the Conception Meridian, the other from the Governing Meridian—were racing toward it.

If I can’t control it... I shouldn’t resist it. I should open the path ahead instead.

Trying to block it would only waste strength. Sooner or later, he’d be overwhelmed.

It was a dangerous gamble. But Kwak Yeon had no other choice. He had to trust the body he had spent years cultivating.

He had strengthened his tendons and widened his meridians. His refined internal energy now coursed through every vessel, shielding them.

With focused intent, he tried to expand the Crown Point itself.

A moment later, energy from both meridians struck the gate at once.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion rang through Kwak Yeon’s skull.

It felt like his mind had been shattered into pieces.

A lifetime of memories flashed all at once—blinking in and out of existence.

Is this... the end?

It felt as though his Crown Point had been turned to pulp.

He saw it, clear as day—two dragons, surging into his mind, locked in vicious combat.

Two dragons!

“All things in creation begin as One and are born when divided into Yin and Yang.”

The words of Master Hyeonmun surfaced in his heart—lines from the inner teachings of Tai Chi Internal Skill.

If all begins as One, then returning to One must also be possible.

The Supreme Balance of Yin and Yang—Tai Chi.

Kwak Yeon gathered his fractured mind and aligned it with the ancient martial verses.

As he did, the battling forces within his Crown Point began to blend.

The savage struggle subsided. The two dragons began to fill each other's voids, spiraling together in perfect harmony.

His trembling body stilled. A divine light flashed in his eyes.

Outside, the Immortal’s Room was still being battered by violent yin-yang storms, but within, Kwak Yeon had found perfect calm.

The fused energy inside his Crown Point now flowed along the Eight Extraordinary Meridians. Finally, it returned to his dantian—his center.

And that’s when Kwak Yeon realized it.

He had broken through the Gate of Life and Death.

He was... dumbfounded.

I pierced the most perilous of points in a single attempt?

There was a reason they called it the Gate of Life and Death. Its name wasn’t just poetic—it was an admission that most would die trying.

And yet here he was, alive.

Only two years ago, he couldn’t even form a proper core of internal energy. How had he come this far?

Was it because of this place?

Then he understood.

The Immortal’s Room wasn’t just a sealed cavern. It was like a living body.

It was completely cut off from the outside world, its own cycle of yin and yang energy forming an enclosed system.

In a way, he was navigating a celestial meridian map—his own body laid over a greater cosmic flow.

One way or another, he had done it.

He had crossed the threshold between life and death.

Just then, Kwak Yeon noticed something strange.

The cave had grown bright.

And then... he heard a voice.

"Chosen one, I congratulate you for passing through the Gate of Life and Death."

It wasn’t a voice in the ordinary sense. It didn’t enter his ears—it surfaced inside his mind, like a thought that wasn’t his own.

He had heard of supreme martial arts techniques that allowed a master to project thoughts directly into another’s mind—transmission techniques that bypassed speech.

But this... this was something else entirely.

A mind-born message.

It transcended time and space. And though the speaker never named themselves, Kwak Yeon knew instinctively.

Grandmaster Jang Sam-bong.

He felt it in his bones—this was the voice of Wudang’s founding sage.

"You have likely realized that the martial techniques carved into this room originate from demonic roots. And that several of Wudang’s disciplines were born from them."

Kwak Yeon’s breath caught.

So it was the Grandmaster’s intention. The carvings, the legacy—they were left by Jang Sam-bong himself.

"Indeed. Those techniques came from a demonic cultivator of the Western lands. I entered this room, saw the legacy, and from it created several of Wudang’s core teachings—stripping away the malice and preserving the principles. In that process, I grasped the mysteries of Tai Chi and gave birth to our true internal cultivation. I drew upon the martial ways of the Buddhist monks, the Daoist sages, the Confucian scholars, and all the Hundred Schools of Thought to form its foundation. It is for this reason our techniques may rightly be called a martial science."

Who would dare call Grandmaster Jang arrogant for claiming such a thing?

"Even so, you may wonder why I did not destroy the demonic legacy entirely."