Episode 160: Wudang Mountain

As they approached the vicinity of Wudang Mountain, Hong Geolgae shared his thoughts.

“Charming, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

He wasn’t referring to Wudang Mountain itself. The mountain is a renowned Taoist site, vast enough that exploring it thoroughly would take months. What Hong Geolgae found charming was the small village nestled at its base. The size of a village often reflects the scale and history of the sect it belongs to.

Hyun Gong shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s a small village, but it has everything you need. In that sense, it’s much like the Wudang Sect—small in size but rich in substance.”

“That’s quite the polished way to put it.”

“Haha.”

Perhaps because he was back in familiar territory, Hyun Gong seemed more cheerful than usual.

The four of them didn’t linger in the village but headed straight for Wudang Mountain.

The weather was pleasant, the scenery breathtaking, and the mountain path not too challenging. With a guide to lead them, it was quite a luxurious hike.

As they walked leisurely, listening to the birds, Namgung Myung asked Hyun Gong, “By the way, Hyun Gong, how did you end up becoming a Taoist?”

Tang Mujin was born into a family of physicians and became a doctor, while Namgung Myung was born into the Namgung family and became a martial artist. Similarly, Hong Geolgae was the son of a Beggars’ Sect member and naturally followed in those footsteps.

But Hyun Gong’s story was a bit different.

While some Taoists do marry, most live a life of celibacy. The likelihood that Hyun Gong joined the Wudang Sect due to family tradition was slim.

Hyun Gong began his story willingly.

“When I was about four or five, my mother brought me to Wudang Mountain.”

“Did she leave you there?”

“Something like that.”

“Something like that?”

“Yes. She brought me to that elm tree over there.”

Hyun Gong pointed to a specific tree. It wasn’t particularly large or uniquely shaped.

“My mother told me that if I followed the path up, I’d find some of her friends who would take care of me for twenty nights, and then she’d come back for me.”

However, the men who were supposedly friends of his mother had no idea who she was.

The Taoists of Wudang, trying not to alarm the small child, entertained him and walked him down the mountain path. But by the time the little boy, holding the hands of the Taoists, reached the bottom, the woman who had left him was long gone.

The Wudang Taoists had two choices: turn the child away or take him in and raise him as one of their own. They chose the latter, as they were planning to accept new disciples soon anyway.

The Wudang Taoists then faced a new dilemma. At the time, the youngest disciples were given names starting with “Jung.” The next batch of disciples was to receive names starting with “Jin,” meaning Hyun Gong should have been named Jin Gong.

The problem was that there was no one who could explain to Hyun Gong why he needed a new name. Who could tell a small child that his mother had abandoned him and that he must now live as Jin Gong instead of Hyun Gong? The Wudang Taoists were too soft-hearted.

After some hesitation, they came up with a clever solution. Since no one had yet received the “Jin” prefix, they decided to skip it and move on to “Hyun.” No one objected.

Thus, the youngest disciples of Wudang skipped several name cycles and received the “Hyun” prefix.

And so, Hyun Gong’s name became both his given name and his Taoist name.

“When I was young, I thought it was strange that only kids with ‘Hyun’ in their names kept joining the Wudang Sect. It took me a while to realize it was a Taoist name.”

Hyun Gong laughed as he recounted the story.

Twenty years had passed. The snot-nosed kid had grown into Hyun Gong, the eldest of the “Hyun” generation, a respected Taoist and a formidable martial artist known as the Dragon Sword.

But the twenty nights promised to the four-year-old had yet to end.

There was a time when he thought that if he became famous, his mother might come looking for him. But as time went on, that hope faded.

It’s hard for a parent to abandon a child, but it’s even harder to go back and find the one you’ve left behind.

As the somber tale drew to a close, a grand mountain gate appeared before them.

In front of the gate stood a small structure. It wasn’t quite a building, more like an annex to the gate.

Though Hyun Gong was the only one who had been to Wudang before, everyone knew what that small structure was.

“That’s the Sword Relinquishing Pool, right?”

“Yes.”

The Sword Relinquishing Pool. A place to leave your sword.

If you’re not a member of the Wudang Sect, you must leave your sword at the pool to enter.

But there’s a significant issue: martial artists treat their swords as their lifelines.

Leaving your sword behind is a gesture of trust, a sign that you’re entrusting your life to the host. Even with no ill intentions, it’s not something one does lightly.

Despite Hyun Gong standing right next to him, Namgung Myung bluntly criticized the practice.

“The Sword Relinquishing Pool. There’s nothing more cunning.”

Hong Geolgae immediately questioned him.

“Cunning?”

“Yes. It’s only natural for people to resist when asked to leave their swords behind.”

“Why is that cunning?”

“Because Wudang uses it as a pretext to impose their rules on others.”

When you can enforce your rules on those who resist, your authority becomes more entrenched.

Namgung Myung argued that Wudang created the strange structure to assert their dominance and spread their reputation.

“Is there really a need to see it so negatively? It’s just tradition.”

As Hyun Gong awkwardly responded, Namgung Myung grumbled again.

“Tradition? No way. My grandfather said there was no Sword Relinquishing Pool in his time. My father met the Wudang Sect leader with his sword on him.”

Hong Geolgae interjected again.

“So, if you’re the head of a great family, you can enter without leaving your sword?”

“Not exactly. The sect leader came out to meet my father outside the gate. They probably didn’t want to set a precedent of someone crossing the pool with a sword.”

Authority is relative, and Wudang’s authority didn’t surpass that of the Namgung family head.

Tang Mujin listened intently, finding the behind-the-scenes stories intriguing.

Worried that Namgung Myung might continue his tale, Hyun Gong waved his arms broadly.

“Alright, enough talk. Let’s go in.”

Inside the Sword Relinquishing Pool, two Wudang Taoists stood guard. Though their martial prowess wasn’t greater than Tang Mujin’s, he obediently placed his sword on the rack.

Namgung Myung, on the other hand, engaged in a brief standoff with the guards before finally relinquishing his sword.

Being the son of the Namgung family head didn’t grant him enough authority to bypass Wudang’s rules, especially since he was half-disowned by his family.

Noticing for the first time that Tang Mujin and Namgung Myung’s swords looked identical, Hyun Gong asked with interest.

“I thought they were remarkable swords, but they look the same. Were they made by the same craftsman?”

Tang Mujin replied lightly.

“Yes, I made them both.”

Hyun Gong chuckled, dismissing it as a joke. A doctor making swords? It was laughable.

The problem arose with Hong Geolgae.

When he tried to pass without leaving his green bamboo staff, the guards stopped him.

“Hey, young Beggars’ Sect member. Leave your weapon.”

“Huh? Why should I?”

“Why? Because this is the Sword Relinquishing Pool.”

“But this is the Sword Relinquishing Pool. This isn’t a sword. It’s just a staff.”

Hong Geolgae leaned on his green bamboo staff, or Taegu Bong, as if it were a walking stick.

Though his attitude was defiant, his argument was valid. The Taegu Bong was a bamboo stick without a blade.

Hyun Gong gave the guards a look, silently asking if they could let it slide.

The guards hesitated.

Recently, the abbot of Shaolin Temple had visited Wudang and entered without leaving his staff, citing the same reason as Hong Geolgae.

‘But that was because he was the abbot. How dare a Beggars’ Sect member…’

Just as the guards were about to strictly enforce the rules, Hyun Gong gave them another look. Following his gaze, they noticed the five knots on the staff.

Though they couldn’t deduce Hong Geolgae’s identity as quickly as Hyun Gong, they sensed he was no ordinary person.

After a brief deliberation, they relented.

“Go ahead!”

After the short scuffle, the group entered the Wudang Sect’s grounds.

As expected, the well-maintained Taoist temple came into view.

However, it wasn’t all newly built structures. There were no buildings that were excessively old, but the place had a timeless quality.

As they followed Hyun Gong, Tang Mujin asked, “When can we see the Songmun Ancient Sword?”

“The sect leader has it, so I can’t say for sure when you’ll see it.”

Seeing Tang Mujin’s disappointed expression, Hyun Gong quickly reassured him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll arrange a meeting with the sect leader as soon as possible.”

Hyun Gong planned to introduce Namgung Myung and Hong Geolgae to as many people as possible. After all, he had brought them to Wudang to showcase his connections. The sect leader was no exception.

Stopping in front of the guest hall, Hyun Gong offered, “While we’re at it, how about I give you a tour of the Wudang Sect?”

Namgoong Myung and Hong Geolgae seemed interested, but Dang Moojin waved them off.

“I’m tired, so I think I’ll rest for a bit. I doubt there’s anything exciting going on anyway.”

“Alright, suit yourself.”

Hyeon Gong replied cheerfully and disappeared somewhere with Namgoong Myung and Hong Geolgae in tow.

Dang Moojin lay down in the guest hall, lost in thought.

‘What kind of sword is the Songmun Ancient Sword?’

When he first heard about the legendary sword of the Wudang Sect, he wondered if it was the sword he had crafted for Pyo Chung as a gift to mark the end of his long journey through the martial world. After all, he couldn’t think of any blacksmith in the central plains who could surpass his skill.

But the name puzzled him. There was no way the sword he made would be called the Songmun Ancient Sword. It wasn’t an old sword, so why would it be called “ancient”?

‘Come to think of it, isn’t the most famous sword of the Namgoong family the Hyeonwon Sword? If it’s a legendary sword made by a mythical blacksmith, it might indeed surpass mine.’

Dang Moojin closed his eyes, pondering.

How was the Songmun Ancient Sword made? Was it forged from ordinary iron? If it was just a sword with unusual materials, he might be a bit disappointed.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

Dang Moojin awoke to the sound of footsteps outside. Judging by the number, it wasn’t Hyeon Gong returning.

A group of people approached the guest hall and called out from outside.

“Is the honorable Dang Moojin inside?”

When Dang Moojin opened the door, he was greeted by the faces of young Taoists.

Some were around his age, while others were slightly younger. They were likely from the same sect as Hyeon Gong.

‘Looks like Hyeon Gong’s been spreading the word about my arrival.’

Just by looking at their faces, Dang Moojin could tell why they had come.

They were curious about the outsider, especially one renowned as one of the three great physicians of the world.

As if confirming his thoughts, a slightly younger Taoist hesitantly spoke up.

“Um, I’m sorry to ask this of you when we’ve just met, but could you take a look at a boil on my back?”

“Let’s have a look.”

The Taoist lifted his shirt to reveal his back.

The boil was about the size of a thumb joint, with a reddish hue and a pointed tip.

It didn’t seem serious, even to them. They just needed an excuse to strike up a conversation with Dang Moojin.

Dang Moojin chuckled softly.

It reminded him of his childhood friends who would follow strangers around, hoping to hear interesting stories.

He took out a needle from his pocket and spoke.

“Does the Wudang Sect not have its own physician?”

“No, we usually go to the village doctor if something’s wrong.”

“I see. It’s done.”

“What?”

In the brief moment they exchanged words, Dang Moojin had already pricked the tip of the boil with a needle, drained the pus, and performed a simple acupuncture.

“I’ve cleaned out the pus and seen a drop of blood, so it shouldn’t get infected. But for the next day or two, wear clean clothes and, if you can, brew some adlay and kudzu root. It doesn’t have to be old kudzu.”

Though Dang Moojin spoke lightly, the young Taoists hesitated to leave. They had come for a conversation, but the treatment ended too quickly.

Understanding their reluctance, Dang Moojin turned to another Taoist.

“And you, you came because of a rash on your arm, right?”

“What? Oh, yes.”

Of course, the Taoist hadn’t come because of a rash. Who would visit a physician for such a minor issue?

But Dang Moojin, feigning ignorance, placed a few clean needles on the Taoist’s forearm and said with a sly smile.

“Grind some Solomon’s seal, acanthopanax, and white atractylodes, roast them over a low flame, and take it. It’ll clear up nicely. Solomon’s seal grows everywhere, so you don’t need to buy it. You can get a handful of white atractylodes for a coin. As for acanthopanax… if it’s hard to find, you can skip it.”

The young Taoists’ mouths hung open.

They knew that minor ailments weren’t necessarily easy to treat. Local doctors often ignored such trivial issues.

After examining the minor ailments of all five Taoists, Dang Moojin clapped his hands together.

“I’ll be here for another day or two, so if you have any discomfort, feel free to come back.”

Having treated the young Taoists, Dang Moojin lay back down.

But soon, he sensed more people approaching.

This time, he opened the door before they could even call out. Seven new faces stared at him.

Dang Moojin scratched his chin, thinking.

‘Looks like sleep’s out of the question today.’

But such was the life of a physician.

“Alright, come in one at a time.”

Dang Moojin opened the door wide, welcoming the Taoists of the Wudang Sect.