Hyeon-jin let the fallen Hyeon-geol lie where he was and turned his body.
Hyeon-chang stood frozen, his mouth agape.
"You… you broke the Seven Stars Formation with just the Seven Stars Steps?"
It was unbelievable.
The movement technique Hyeon-jin had displayed was none other than the Seven Stars Footwork—a technique he himself knew well. Though a signature of Wudang, it was basic footwork, taught from the third-generation disciples onward.
And yet Hyeon-jin had shattered the Seven Stars Formation using nothing more than the rudimentary Seven Stars Steps?
Even seeing it with his own eyes, he could hardly believe it.
Still, there was no way he could admit it outright.
Hyeon-chang immediately raised his wooden sword and attacked Hyeon-jin.
"You bastard, don't you dare—!"
Hyeon-jin twisted his body slightly, slipping past the wooden sword, and once again drove his fist—still gripping his own wooden sword—into Hyeon-chang's face.
Thwack!
"Urgh!"
Hyeon-chang's face contorted, and he staggered backward, too stunned to even think of counterattacking.
In a calm voice, Hyeon-jin said,
"Amitabha. Now it's senior brother's turn. Let's see what you're really made of."
"You… what the hell…?"
Hyeon-chang could not finish his words.
Hyeon-jin's wooden sword poured down like a rainstorm, accompanied by flashing sword-shadows.
Papapapapap!
Half a moment later.
The disciples of Wudang stumbled into the Purple Subhall like beaten dogs, their wretched appearance catching the eyes of several onlookers.
It wasn't just one or two—it was eight of them. There was no way such a sight could escape attention. Naturally, the disciples of the Purple Subhall themselves saw everything.
Their swollen faces and blackened eyes told the story; their lips were puffed up like carp mouths.
Soon, whispers spread all around.
"How did they end up in such a state?"
"That's not from training. They clearly got beaten badly somewhere."
"But who could have done it?"
One of the martial instructors of the Purple Subhall, Cheong-ho, heard the talk and flew into a rage. Among the beaten disciples, three were his own direct disciples—including Hyeon-chang.
Cheong-ho summoned Hyeon-chang and demanded,
"Who was it? Who left you in this state?"
Hyeon-chang lowered his head deeply. His pride would not allow him to tell the truth.
"It's nothing serious, Master. We were sparring amongst ourselves, and our competitiveness got the better of us. We just went a little too far."
Cheong-ho glared at him with sharp eyes.
"Is that truly the case?"
"Yes, Master."
"So you weren't beaten by anyone else?"
"Yes…"
Hyeon-chang stuck to his lie.
How could he admit that even with seven of them forming the Seven Stars Formation, they were thoroughly beaten by Hyeon-jin?
If his master found out, Cheong-ho would beat him senseless before even going after Hyeon-jin.
That damned bastard. Just wait. I'll repay this humiliation in full someday!
At that moment, Cheong-ho asked,
"Then why did you call Hyeon-jin over in the first place?"
Hyeon-chang's eyes widened.
"…Excuse me?"
"They say you and the others summoned Hyeon-jin."
"T-that… we only had something to ask him."
"So you didn't fight with him?"
The implication was clear: Were you beaten by Hyeon-jin?
"Ha… ha… Master, really. Why would we fight Hyeon-jin? He's our junior. Besides, there were seven of us, and we were practicing the Seven Stars Formation. How could we possibly lose to him?"
"Well, that's true enough…"
Even Cheong-ho thought it made no sense.
"Do not worry too much. Any strange rumors will fade quickly."
Hyeon-chang exhaled in relief, hiding his anxiety.
What a disgrace, all because of him…
But it wasn't over yet.
On his way back to his quarters, a fellow disciple approached and whispered,
"Senior brother, Senior Brother Hyeon-woo wishes to see you."
Damn it all!
When Hyeon-chang entered the room, Hyeon-woo sat there with elegant posture, lifting a teacup.
Though not as refined as Grand Senior Brother Hyeon-su, Hyeon-woo too enjoyed tea.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk."
Hyeon-chang clenched his teeth at the sound of his tongue-click.
Today, I'm nothing but everyone's punching bag.
With eyes full of disappointment, Hyeon-woo asked,
"Was he really that difficult to handle?"
"If I hadn't been careless…"
"How many did he bring with him?"
"…Pardon?"
"How many followers did Hyeon-jin bring?"
At last, Hyeon-chang understood what his senior brother was thinking. With a bitter smile, he answered,
"…He came alone."
The teacup paused halfway to Hyeon-woo's lips.
"Alone? Hyeon-jin came alone?"
"Yes, Senior Brother."
"..."
Shaken, Hyeon-woo's hand trembled, spilling tea from the cup.
Frowning, he set it down.
"That boy has more guts than I thought. Well, after Martial Uncle Cheong-san died early, he's been pushed around enough. Without some steel in him, he wouldn't have survived this long."
As if understanding Hyeon-jin's nature, he nodded slowly, then asked again,
"Then was it one against one? Or one against several?"
"..."
This time, Hyeon-chang could not answer right away.
Seeing his hesitation, Hyeon-woo's expression hardened.
"…Surely it wasn't three against one?"
"Ah… yes, Senior Brother."
Hyeon-chang could not bring himself to admit: It was seven against one. With the Seven Stars Formation, no less!
Three against one was already enough to convey Hyeon-jin's strength.
"Haha… remarkable. To win even three against one."
Before Hyeon-woo could probe further, Hyeon-chang diverted the topic.
"To be honest, I still can't believe it. He was talented, yes, but not to this degree."
"True enough."
Most of the sect knew of Hyeon-jin.
He was the sole disciple of the late Cheong-san. After his master's death, he grew unruly—a troublemaker, albeit with natural talent.
That was the Hyeon-jin the disciples knew.
But in just a few days, he seemed reborn.
A complete transformation—something so rare it was said to happen once in a million.
Hyeon-woo understood this well.
Sipping his tea again, he said,
"Investigate Hyeon-jin carefully. There must be something behind this."
"Yes, Senior Brother."
"And spread the story as if he fought not only you, but some from the Violet Dawn Hall as well."
"…Pardon?"
"That will stir the hot-blooded disciples into action. They won't sit quietly."
"If this grows too big, the elders won't tolerate it."
"Some wounds must be lanced before they fester. This is one of them."
As Hyeon-woo sipped his tea, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Hyeon-jin, meanwhile, cared nothing for the thoughts of others. As always, he devoted himself to training.
But suddenly, more than a dozen young Daoists stormed into the training ground.
The disciples already practicing halted and looked on.
Among the newcomers was a massive youth, broad as a bear. He was Hyeon-gwang, who had entered the sect at the same time as Grand Senior Brother Hyeon-su.
With his bulk, an axe would have suited him better than a sword, yet he insisted on sword training. The sight earned him the nickname Bear Playing with Chopsticks.
Confirming that no elders were present, Hyeon-gwang strode up to the platform.
"I heard our brothers from the Purple Subhall were beaten black and blue! Who was it? Come out!"
His broad shoulders squared, Hyeon-gwang roared, like a raging bear.
But despite his fury, no one stepped forward.
Not even Hyeon-jin.
Really… they gathered a crowd over something so minor?
Some bruises, yes, but no broken bones. At worst, their faces were painted in purples and reds.
"No one? I heard it was disciples of the Violet Dawn Hall who attacked them!"
Violet Dawn Hall?
Hyeon-jin tilted his head slightly.
Meanwhile, Hyeon-gwang continued without pause.
"Beating those arrogant Purple Subhall brats was no small feat! But we are all brothers—disciples of the same sect! To fight one another is—"
Just then—
"Senior Brother Hyeon-gwang! Disciples from the Purple Subhall are marching here!"
"What? Those bastards dare cross the line!"
Grinding his teeth, Hyeon-gwang scowled, then barked to the disciples at the practice ground,
"Stay out of this! We'll take responsibility!"
Before his words were even finished, he leapt off with his comrades.
Watching them go, Hyeon-jin exhaled in relief.
Good. They let their pride keep them quiet.
He had thought long the night before.
Drawing too much attention would only ruin his plans—it might even repeat the mistakes of the past.
Once, he had been chosen as Sect Leader.
Once was enough.
He had squandered the chance, and had no right to that position again.
If someone else had become Wudang's leader, perhaps the sect would never have burned.
If my uncles and senior brothers hadn't all died early… I'd never have been chosen anyway.
I won't go through that endless torment again!
For twenty years he had drowned in ledgers, burning his nights away. Penniless, burdened by debts, constantly cutting costs—always struggling in deficit.
If the Primordial Celestial Lord dared order him again, he'd grab him by the collar.
Never! Never again! I can't—no, I won't!
At that moment, shouts erupted outside.
"They're pushing our brothers back!"
"What? The Purple Subhall dogs forced their way in?"
"Come! Let's show them the Violet Dawn Hall is no pushover!"
The hot-blooded disciples stormed out, fury in their steps.
Hyeon-jin shook his head and followed them outside.
Where have all the elders gone?
Outside was chaos.
Second-generation disciples of Wudang clashed wildly, fists and kicks flying. Some soared through the air to strike their opponents.
"Fine! You want a real fight? You'll get it!"
"Kill them all!"
"Let's settle this today!"
"Bring it on!"
The brawl grew fiercer, degenerating into a full-blown street fight.
Just then, first-generation disciples of the Azure Subhall rushed in.
"Enough!"
"What madness is this!"
"Cease at once!"
"Any more fighting, and you'll be cleaning latrines for a hundred days!"
Hyeon-jin, who had been holding back, immediately stepped away.
Soon, the disciples of Violet Dawn and Purple Subhalls separated, panting and glaring at one another.
That day's clash ended with six injured.
From it, Hyeon-jin learned another lesson.
This cursed three-hall system must end. Division only breeds factions.
Why hadn't he realized it before?
The elders, for their part, turned a blind eye.
By the rules, disciples fighting privately was a grave offense.
But sometimes, they thought, a little brawling could foster brotherhood.
After all, was there not a saying: friendship grows through fighting?
And so, the matter was quietly swept aside.
On the fifteenth day since returning to the past, Hyeon-jin resolved to carry out what he had long pondered.
Before it's too late, I must make the coiled inner energy in my dantian truly my own.
If he could freely command even one cycle's worth of that gathered power, he would at least meet the minimum qualifications for the peak realm.
That alone would be enough for now.
At his age, who else could boast such reserves?
But for the past fifteen days, no matter how he circulated his qi, the mass remained immovable.
Clearly, another method was needed.
If I'm to prepare for the martial gathering in two years, there's no time to waste.
The Great Martial Tournament, hosted by the Martial Alliance, was held every four years. Only disciples under the age of twenty-five could participate. The last had been two years ago—meaning two years remained.
And the Hubei preliminaries begin next spring.
To restore Wudang's reputation, they would need to achieve outstanding results.
But Hyeon-jin remembered well how poorly it had gone.
"Amitabha…"
---
End of Chapter 6
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