Returning to the room, Bu Eunseol explained to Bukgung Ryeong and Song Ak.
“There is someone within Wudang deliberately draining the elders’ vital essence.”
At this somewhat absurd conclusion, Bukgung Ryeong and Song Ak turned pale with disbelief.
“An object that steals vital essence? What do you mean?”
“Is there such a thing in the world?”
Bu Eunseol explained calmly. “There are objects known as the Black Divine Artifacts, though they are not known in the martial world. Each possesses abilities beyond imagination...”
Bukgung Ryeong, listening silently for a long while, furrowed his brow.
“Then can’t we simply find the one possessing the Black Divine Artifact?”
“It will be difficult. We don’t even know what it looks like, and whoever has it would surely hide it in a place that could never be discovered through investigation.”
“This humble one cannot understand.” Song Ak shook his head. “Even if such an object exists, why would someone bother infiltrating our sect to drain the elders’ vital essence?”
Wudang stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Shaolin.
There was no need to take such risks in a place where discovery was highly likely.
“The conditions to activate a Black Divine Artifact seem to vary. One I saw could unleash its power by draining a woman’s yin energy, for example.”
“Then you’re saying a Wudang disciple obtained such an evil object and is using its power?”
“Likely not someone from Wudang.” Bu Eunseol said firmly.
“It seems someone is impersonating a Wudang disciple.”
Yet Song Ak responded unexpectedly resolutely. “That’s impossible.”
“How can you be so certain?”
At Bukgung Ryeong’s question, Song Ak spoke honestly. “In truth, our sect once concluded that an evil outsider might have infiltrated. So we summoned every disciple and interrogated them one by one.”
He continued calmly.
“We asked each disciple things no outsider could possibly know. If someone had infiltrated, they would have been exposed for certain.”
“What if the interrogator was the culprit? Wouldn’t that go undetected?”
It was a sharp point.
Even so, Song Ak remained firm.
“That could be, but we do not believe any of the sect elders or leaders are the culprit.”
In short, the interrogations were conducted by Wudang’s core figures, and they were confident none among them was the perpetrator.
“It might not be discoverable through interrogation.” Bu Eunseol said. “The Three Realms have secret arts to steal others’ memories. There are even techniques to peer into one’s essence, energy, and spirit.”
Song Ak, familiar with the Three Realms, nodded without much surprise.
“If such arts exist...” He wore a grim expression. “They would have seen every memory, so we could never find them.”
In retrospect, Wudang disciples were closely bonded so those of the same generation were practically inseparable.
If someone suspicious existed, fellow disciples of the same rank would surely notice something off.
“Then is it the Three Realms again?”
“I don’t know. Only that the probability is high.”
In truth, Black Divine Artifacts were more likely tied to forces opposing the Three Realms than to the Three Realms themselves.
But since it wasn’t certain, he spoke vaguely.
Bukgung Ryeong nodded.
“Indeed, if not the Three Realms, who would dare play such tricks in Wudang?”
“We should investigate the Wudang disciples once more.”
At Bu Eunseol’s words, Bukgung Ryeong and Song Ak nodded heavily.
The investigation seemed destined to drag on longer.
Bu Eunseol and Bukgung Ryeong interrogated every Wudang disciple again.
Yet not a single suspicious person emerged.
‘Is it like the Clear River Realm, splitting personalities?’
Bu Eunseol stroked his chin.
‘No, that can’t be.’
Brainwashing took an extremely long time—at least a year, often more than a decade. No one would go to such lengths just to absorb Wudang elders’ vital essence with a Black Divine Artifact.
Buzz.
At lunchtime, Wudang disciples began eating in their respective halls.
With many members, Wudang had dedicated cooks managing the kitchens.
Bu Eunseol quietly observed the disciples eating.
Gathering for meals made it far easier to watch them all at once.
“Eat slowly.”
Among the cooks was a distinctive figure.
An elderly grandmother, quite advanced in years, would instantly spot where side dishes or soup were running low and quickly refill them.
‘Hmm.’
Bu Eunseol’s eyes sparkled as he watched the grandmother swiftly replenishing dishes for the young Taoists.
‘There’s a way.’
A brilliant idea struck him. He approached Song Ak and asked a few questions.
“Is there a strict master in Wudang?”
“A strict master?”
“With so many disciples, there must be someone who enforces hierarchy and teaches them rigorously.”
“There is, of course.”
Song Ak widened his eyes and shook his head.
“It is our sect’s Great Master, Cheong Sung. Though ‘strict’ hardly does him justice.” His face looked somewhat haggard as he continued. “You are fortunate, Benefactor. If he were here, we couldn’t investigate so leisurely.”
“Where is he?”
“He has been in secluded meditation in the small garden behind Okheo Palace for over a year. He will likely emerge around this time next year.”
“That’s fortunate.”
“What do you mean?”
“That he is still on Mount Wudang.”
A pale smile curved the lips of Bu Eunseol, disguised as mercenary Seolso.
“Now we can find the culprit.”
***
All disciples of the first generation and above had gathered in front of Okheo Palace.
Because Cheong Sung, who had been in quiet seclusion in the small bamboo grove behind the palace, had descended.
As Wudang’s most senior elder and Great Master, he was the martial uncle of Sect Leader Yeong Cheong. Though nearly a hundred years old, Cheong Sung’s frame was bear-like, and he still ate three bowls of rice per meal with vigor.
Until recently, he had complained that Wudang disciples were too weak and personally trained the elders, leaders, and first-generation disciples—excluding the sect leader—in martial arts.
Thud, thud.
From the top of the Okheo Palace stairs, Cheong Sung looked down at the disciples—including the sect leader—with tiger-like eyes.
“Why was I not informed of the crisis in our sect?”
His booming voice echoed, and Jin-in Chungyeop, who had been watching nervously, stepped forward quickly.
“The sect leader feared disturbing your secluded meditation...”
“Nonsense!” Cheong Sung’s cold gaze flashed, and Jin-in Chungyeop dared not lift his head, retreating. “The elders collectively fell to sleepwalking sickness and tore apart beasts alive to eat them? Does that even make sense?”
Cheong Sung descended the stairs and began scrutinizing each elder’s face.
They avoided his gaze, lowering their eyes.
Especially those who had eaten live birds in their sleepwalking state trembled with eyes closed.
“What were you lot doing!” The fire now turned to the hall leaders and first-generation disciples. “Is it because you didn’t do your jobs properly that the elders’ bodies wasted away?”
Whenever Cheong Sung passed nearby, the leaders and disciples flinched.
His temper was explosive, almost volcanic.
When teaching martial arts, he demonstrated personally with his aged body, using hands and feet.
If a disciple failed to concentrate or made a mistake?
A roar would follow, and the demonstrated technique would crash into their faces.
He showed no mercy, so those learning from him often ended up bedridden for days.
“If rumors spread outside, the martial world will mock our sect as a den of heretical Taoists!” Cheong Sung said solemnly. “Starting tomorrow, I will resume personal martial training. Gather in front of Clarity Hall by the hour of the Snake (9:00 - 11:00 am).”
At his words, groans of despair rose from all the disciples.
Unable to bear it, Sect Leader Yeong Cheong stepped forward cautiously.
“Samchon*, the elders are at an age where their joints stiffen. Can they endure such harsh training?”
*Uncle
“Sect Leader, Wudang martial arts are rooted in internal energy. Their sleepwalking sickness came because they neglected cultivation and allowed illness to invade.”
Cheong Sung turned to the disciples.
“Chungyeop and Geum are burdened with heavy duties, so exclude them.”
Jin-in Chungyeop and Yeong Geum looked at each other with moved expressions, clasping their hands.
They felt the reward of their years assisting the sect leader.
“Prepare yourselves starting tomorrow!”
Shouting loudly, Cheong Sung turned without looking back and ascended to the bamboo grove through Okheo Palace.
“...”
A heavy silence fell over Okheo Palace.
Suddenly, every Taoist present turned cold gazes toward one spot.
They were staring at Song Ak.
‘Because of that bastard causing trouble...!’
It was he who had summoned Cheong Sung from seclusion.
Trusting Bu Eunseol’s words, he had persuaded the elders to meet him.
Because Bu Eunseol had said: ‘Summon Cheong Sung, and we will immediately find the culprit. Trust me.’
Yet far from finding the culprit, he had only provoked Cheong Sung’s anger and received a threat of renewed martial training.
Moreover, Bu Eunseol had vanished without a trace in the meantime.
‘To catch a single flea, he burned down the whole house.’
Song Ak’s eyes lost focus, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.
It would have been better if the elders had kept sleepwalking and eating raw flesh. The thought of first-generation disciples and above undergoing brutal morning and evening training was unbearable.
“Song Ak, because of you...”
The most hot-tempered elder, Yeong Hyeon, rolled up his sleeves and approached.
Thud, thud.
At that moment, two shadows appeared on the stairs of Okheo Palace.
It was Bukgung Ryeong and Bu Eunseol.
“My Lord!” Song Ak shouted, and Bukgung Ryeong nodded.
“We will reveal the full truth. Listen.”
He looked solemnly at the disciples.
“Song Ok. Step forward.”
A first-generation disciple—slender and frail-looking—tilted his head.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
As Song Ok stepped forward, Bukgung Ryeong said in a low voice.
“Who are you?”
Song Ok replied with a bewildered expression.
“I am disciple Song Ok.”
“Hahaha.” Bukgung Ryeong laughed lowly. A pebble floated at his fingertip.
Swoosh!
Song Ok drew his sword like lightning, taking a defensive stance.
A flawless move befitting a first-generation Wudang disciple.
Boom!
Yet when the Inner Bullet Technique Technique struck, Song Ok—though blocking it—was sent flying dozens of feet, crashing into a large tree.
“Ugh.”
He rose quickly, but blood flowed from Song Ok’s mouth.
He had suffered severe internal injuries from a single strike.
“My Lord!” Jin-in Chungyeop, flustered, stepped in front of Bukgung Ryeong. “What are you doing?”
“This man is not a Wudang disciple.” Bukgung Ryeong said calmly. “Capture and interrogate him. Everything will be revealed.”
“My Lord, we already investigated all first-generation disciples.” Jin-in Chungyeop said regretfully. “Song Ok has been fully confirmed not to be an outside spy.”
“Of course. He shares identical memories.”
‘Identical memories?’
Every Wudang Taoist present widened their eyes.
Bukgung Ryeong’s words sounded utterly alien.
“I am Song Ok.”
Song Ok said indignantly.
“Why would an outsider like you deny what all our sect elders have confirmed?”
He raised his voice again.
“Could it be that you, Lord, are acting on orders from outsiders to further disrupt our sect?”
The elders and disciples unconsciously nodded.
Though Bukgung Ryeong was a renowned righteous hero enshrined in the Hero’s Monument, to Wudang, he was still an outsider.
For him to interrogate a first-generation disciple—who could be called a pillar of the sect—without evidence?
It was utterly unacceptable.
“Confident, aren’t you?” Bukgung Ryeong smiled faintly. “You’re certain there’s no way to prove it.”
“It’s not that there’s no way—it’s that there is no evidence.” Song Ok said clearly. “Because I did nothing.”
“Very well.”
Bukgung Ryeong nodded toward Bu Eunseol.
Bu Eunseol shouted loudly.
“Great Master! One more time, please!”
His voice echoed through Mount Wudang, and from behind Okheo Palace, a bear-like shadow lumbered down.
It was Cheong Sung, who had just ascended to the bamboo grove.
“You keep bothering me!” Cheong Sung glared at Bu Eunseol and Bukgung Ryeong irritably. “If you caught him, deal with it quickly. Why call this old Taoist?”
“It seems the Wudang disciples failed to notice.”
At Bu Eunseol’s reply, azure light flared in Cheong Sung’s eyes.
“You incompetent fools.”
Glaring fiercely at all disciples except Sect Leader Yeong Cheong, he thundered.
“Even an outsider can see it at a glance, yet our sect disciples cannot distinguish?” Storming forward, he jabbed a finger at Jin-in Chungyeop’s face. “You, who should teach the disciples properly, waste your days wandering the martial world on nonsense, turning our disciples into idiots?”
Jin-in Chungyeop flinched with every movement of Cheong Sung’s finger.
He recalled being forced into the Golden Rooster Stand stance all day for having weak lower body, nearly breaking his waist.
“You too.” Cheong Sung now strode toward Song Ak at the front of the first-generation disciples. “You called outsiders for no reason and turned our sect’s affair into a spectacle.”
As Cheong Sung raised his foot as if to kick, nearby disciples flinched in unison.
They remembered being kicked by the Mystic Eighteen Legs for “proper leg technique training.”
‘Ah?’
Watching this, the Wudang elders and leaders realized.
All Wudang Taoists here had suffered so much under Cheong Sung.
A mere glance made their knees buckle; his approach alone set their hearts racing.
But Song Ok….
Though feigning fear, his physiological reactions remained perfectly calm.
Why?
To the fake Song Ok, Cheong Sung was merely a terrifying figure from memories—not someone he had personally experienced.
Real Wudang disciples reacted instinctively with fear.
But he showed no change despite his fearful expression.
“Surround that villain immediately!”
At Yeong Cheong’s command, the first-generation disciples drew their swords and encircled Song Ok.
“A method that strikes at the flaw.” Having realized everything, Song Ok looked around coldly. “Exploiting the inability to control bodily reactions to uncover the truth. Truly admirable.”
“Who are you!” Yeong Cheong stepped forward solemnly. “Why have you committed the heinous act of draining our elders’ vital essence!”
“It was unavoidable.” Song Ok drew a transparent ring from his robes. “To activate this Flawless Ten-Finger Ring, I needed the vital essence of those who cultivate Taoist internal energy.”
“Flawless Ten-Finger Ring?”
Even the experienced Wudang elders had never heard the name.
What was this transparent ring that could drain the elders' vital essence?
“Unfortunately, I’ll have to visit again later.”
Song Ok slowly put on the ring, speaking leisurely.
“I wonder what identity I’ll use next time.”
Crack.
As he wore the ring, a transparent fissure suddenly appeared between Song Ok and the Wudang Taoists.
As if the world split in two, torn like a painting.
The Flawless Ring.
The mysterious Black Divine Artifact began exerting its power.
“Catch him!”
At Cheong Sung’s shout, Wudang disciples attacked Song Ok with drawn swords.
Yet no matter how they struck, they couldn’t pierce the faint boundary.
It was as if the world where Song Ok stood was separated from theirs by that small fissure.
“Did you think I came to Wudang unprepared?”
Song Ok smiled faintly and waved his hand.
“Then until next time.”
He turned leisurely.
Everyone poured their energy desperately, but none could breach the gap.
“Hahaha.” As Song Ok laughed and turned slowly,
Whoosh.
Black mist spread, and his figure vanished instantly. Simultaneously, the fissure he created began to close.
At that moment, a tremendous explosion rang out, and violet thunder energy flashed as golden rings poured endlessly into the fissure.
Boom! Boom boom boom boom!
Bukgung Ryeong held his index finger upright.
He was flicking his unique weapon, the Purple Lightning Golden Rings, one after another at maximum power.
Boom! Boom!
Finally, after unleashing all eighteen golden rings he possessed,
Zing!
The fissure widened slightly, and faint light leaked out.
“Now!”
At Bukgung Ryeong’s shout,
Kwaaaa!
A massive figure wielding an iron sword infused with purple thunder energy thrust through the fissure.
Bu Eunseol had executed Sword-Body Unity, forcing his way through the gap.
Bu Eunseol and Bukgung Ryeong.
The two grandmasters transcending generations knew each other’s ultimate techniques and abilities perfectly.
Without discussion, they improvised this tactic to neutralize the Black Divine Artifact’s power.
Clang!
A clear sound like shattering glass rang out.
Bu Eunseol broke through the spatial wall created by the Black Divine Artifact and arrived where Song Ok stood.
“My Lord.”
Jin-in Chungyeop asked Bukgung Ryeong in shock.
“Is it all right to send your disciple in instead of going yourself?”
Even from a single strike, they could see how formidable the fake Song Ok’s martial arts were.
Yet he sent his disciple without hesitation?
“Don’t worry.”
Bukgung Ryeong smiled with full confidence.
“We may not capture him alive, but we will surely take his head.”
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