Chapter 182: A Campfire Under the Starlight
As Tang Mujin and his companions headed south, a thick plume of smoke rose behind them, from the direction they had just left. The sun was setting, casting a reddish glow that was visible even from a distance.
Hong Geolgae, watching the distant firelight, suggested, “Let’s rest here for the night.”
“Sounds good,” Tang Mujin replied immediately. Like Hong Geolgae, he was carrying an exhausted person on his back, and his arms and back were already stiff and aching from the day’s journey.
They gently laid down the bodies of Yu Gwanil and Yu Jingwang, while Namgung Myung and Hyun Gong gathered branches to start a fire.
It felt like ages since they last had a proper rest. Following Yu Gwanil had meant days and nights blurred together without pause.
As they warmed themselves by the fire, Hong Geolgae voiced a concern, “Is it safe to have a fire here?”
Namgung Myung shrugged. “With so many injured, we need it to keep warm.”
“What if the people from the Gongdong Sect come this way?”
“Not all of them will come. If ten or twenty do, we can handle it. We’ll just send them to the afterlife.”
Tang Mujin and Hyun Gong chuckled at this, and even Yu Jingwang, who had been feigning unconsciousness to avoid walking, stirred slightly.
As they ate, the smoke and firelight from the direction of Hwangolgak grew more intense.
“That smoke… it must be Hwangolgak, right?” Hong Geolgae speculated.
“Probably,” Namgung Myung replied. “There’s nothing else around there.”
“How do you think it caught fire?”
“Who knows? But it doesn’t really matter.”
“Why not?”
“The Gongdong Sect will just rebuild it. Next time we head north, we might see an even grander Hwangolgak.”
Yu Jingwang chimed in, “Or they might not rebuild it at all.”
Though it seemed like a casual remark, coming from someone who had surpassed the pinnacle of martial arts, it carried weight.
In truth, it didn’t matter if there was a reason or not. In the desolate, dark field, with only a campfire for company, there wasn’t much to do but talk. Hyun Gong prompted Yu Jingwang with a question.
“Why do you think that? Hwangolgak is a symbol of the Gongdong Sect.”
“It is now. But will it always be?”
The conversation took a more profound turn, and the group found themselves leaning in closer to Yu Jingwang without realizing it.
“What do you mean by that?”
Seeing their unexpected interest, Yu Jingwang scratched his head. “This might take a while. Is that okay?”
“As long as it’s interesting, we don’t mind,” Namgung Myung replied, sometimes too candid for his own good. Yu Jingwang gave him a wry smile.
“Well… listen as long as you find it interesting. It’s just my imagination, so don’t take it too seriously.”
After clearing his throat, Yu Jingwang began his tale.
“Let’s start from a bit further back. Have you ever heard that the Jeomchang Sect is short on people?”
“Yes.”
Tang Mujin hadn’t heard, but Namgung Myung, Hyun Gong, and Hong Geolgae nodded immediately. It seemed to be common knowledge.
“Isn’t it strange? Other prestigious sects have parents lining up to have their children trained as martial artists, and countless people want to become disciples.”
Hyun Gong nodded. The Wudang Sect was a prime example of this. Whenever they announced they were accepting new disciples, people flocked in droves. There were so many applicants that only a select few could be chosen. The situation was similar for other sects.
“Isn’t it because the Jeomchang Sect is in such a remote area? Yunnan isn’t exactly densely populated.”
“That’s not entirely wrong. But if that were the only issue, at least the people of Yunnan would be eager to send their children there. Yet, even they don’t seem to flock to the Jeomchang Sect. Why do you think that is?”
“Because the sect is poor?”
Yu Jingwang’s expression turned somber at this suggestion. It was a harsh but realistic observation, especially coming from Hong Geolgae, who had the right to make such a comment. The Jeomchang Sect was not only poor but also in debt, making it the only sect the Beggars’ Sect could look down upon financially.
“That’s not entirely incorrect either. But there’s a more significant issue. Can you guess what it is?”
The group pondered, feeling as if they were on the verge of understanding but unable to articulate it.
Tang Mujin thought of his daughter, Tang Young, who was just learning to walk. If she ever expressed a desire to become a martial artist, would he allow it?
He could, if she wanted to become a Taoist of the Cheongseong Sect or a monk of the Emei Sect. It would be painful, but he could allow it.
“But the Jeomchang Sect?”
The mere thought sent a shiver down his spine. Absolutely not. He couldn’t bear the thought of Tang Young wielding a sword, risking her life with reckless abandon.
Yu Jingwang, observing Tang Mujin’s expression, smiled knowingly. “Judging by your face, Tang Mujin, you have an idea. What do you think it is?”
“Because… they don’t live long?”
“Exactly.”
It was a statement that could be taken as an insult, yet Yu Jingwang nodded without a hint of offense. His reaction was so matter-of-fact that it caught the others off guard.
“I’d wager that the Jeomchang Sect has the highest number of martial artists who die young. They rush into battles against the Demonic Cult or the unorthodox sects without hesitation. Yet, despite this, the sect endures. That’s the strength of the Jeomchang Sect.”
“Ah… yes.”
Yu Jingwang seemed to take pride in this peculiar aspect. But since it was Yu Jingwang speaking, no one dared to argue. After all, he and his father had both surpassed the pinnacle of martial arts, making them uniquely qualified to speak of the sect’s resilience.
“Anyway, before I left to earn money, the current sect leader came up with a solution to the manpower shortage.”
“What was it?”
“He mandated that Jeomchang Sect martial artists also train in defensive martial arts. The idea was that fewer deaths would alleviate the manpower shortage, and if word spread that fewer people were dying, more would be drawn to the sect.”
It was a practical and wise approach, yet it felt somewhat awkward.
Namgung Myung, sensing the same unease as Tang Mujin, asked, “Does the Jeomchang Sect even have defensive martial arts?”
“Of course. The Jeomchang Sect is an ancient sect. It has defensive techniques like the Rising Phoenix Sword and the Sevenfold Heavy Hand. They’ve just been overlooked because they’re less powerful.”
“I see. But what does that have to do with Hwangolgak?”
“The point is, for the Jeomchang Sect to survive, it had to let go of its identity of pursuing the ultimate strike and extreme speed. It’s become a bit less distinctive. And it will continue to do so. They’ll likely shift away from overly dangerous techniques and focus more on survival.”
The group reacted tepidly. They understood the story, but the context in which it was shared was puzzling.
Yu Jingwang, not expecting them to grasp it immediately, continued without waiting for a response.
“Now, let’s get to the main point. Name some famous sects and their characteristics.”
The group listed them as they came to mind.
“The Jeomchang Sect doesn’t value life and pursues the most powerful single strike.”
“The Gongdong Sect embraces the demonic and subdues it with martial arts intertwined with demonic techniques.”
“The Emei Sect and Shaolin uphold Buddhist traditions and strive to save all beings.”
“The Cheongseong Sect has excellent martial arts, but I’ve heard they spend more time cultivating their inner selves and pursuing the Tao than honing their martial skills.”
Yu Jingwang smiled like a teacher pleased with his students.
“Right. Each sect has its own characteristics. But how much do those characteristics help a sect survive and thrive?”
Tang Mujin stroked his chin. Yu Jingwang, being the son of a sect leader, might have pondered such topics, but Tang Mujin had never needed to.
Instead, he looked to Namgung Myung, hoping the son of the Namgung family head might have some insight.
But Namgung Myung seemed just as clueless.
Yu Jingwang continued, “I don’t think they help much. Ultimately, what draws people to a sect isn’t the promise of saving all beings, inner cultivation, or the ultimate strike. What people want are the powerful martial arts and the fame that comes with being a martial artist.”
The stark realism of his words left Tang Mujin uneasy.
“Come on, that’s not entirely true.”
“You mentioned there’s a Cheongseong Sect branch near your home. Have you ever seen anyone come seeking the Tao, immortality, or the understanding of the universe’s mysteries?”
Surprisingly, Tang Mujin had never encountered such a person. Everyone’s goal was the martial arts of the Cheongseong Sect.
“People don’t want those things. And what people don’t want eventually gets sidelined. The Gongdong Sect will likely change in the same way.”
Yu Jingwang stirred the campfire with a bitter expression.
“To embrace the demon, to make it kneel. It’s a noble goal. The Gongdong Sect has been upholding this identity by rejecting brilliant talents and accepting the roughest of the rough, the rogue warriors. They’ve managed to preserve their tradition so far, but it won’t be easy going forward.”
“How do you think it will change?”
“Instead of reforming rogue warriors, they’ll start accepting young prodigies like other sects, passing on their martial arts. They’ll stray from their identity, but it’s much easier and more effective, isn’t it?”
Yujin Kwang turned his head to look towards the Hall of Rebirth. The smoke rising from it had noticeably diminished.
“As far as I know, the Hall of Rebirth has burned down more than five times.”
“So, they’ll rebuild it again, won’t they?”
“No. The old Gongdong Sect needed to maintain the Hall of Rebirth to accommodate more rogue warriors. But now, their martial arts are well-established. Realistically, there’s no reason for them to keep it. The fact that fewer people are coming from the main sect to the Hall of Rebirth means the Gongdong Sect is starting to neglect it.”
Yujin Kwang continued, his expression distant.
“Imagine if the Gongdong Sect starts accepting young prodigies instead of reforming rogue warriors. Polishing gems instead of rough stones. What do you think the martial prowess of future Gongdong warriors will be like?”
”…It would surpass what it is now.”
“Exactly. If they abandon the identity of embracing the demon, a future of prosperity awaits. Eventually, the Gongdong Sect will head in that direction.”
Tang Mujin pondered this, a question forming in his mind.
Unlike others, he wasn’t raised as a martial artist, so he could entertain such old-fashioned doubts.
“What meaning is there in a sect that loses its identity? The Wudang Sect, cautious before enemies. The Shaolin and Emei, practicing martial arts without saving the masses. The Qingcheng Sect, wielding swords without seeking enlightenment. The Gongdong Sect, not reforming rogue warriors. What meaning is there in that?”
Yujin Kwang gave a crooked smile at Tang Mujin’s question.
“None at all. The era of martial artists will end, and it will become a time for those who can wield a sword well. But I feel the world is moving in that direction. To keep up with the times, each sect will abandon its identity and become a band of ruffians.”
Tang Mujin wanted to argue but couldn’t. He had seen the clearest change himself.
The cult leader, more a religious figure than a martial artist, was killed, and the great protector who revered strength seized the position. Had the cult adapted to the times?
Sensing the gravity of the conversation, Yujin Kwang clapped his hands to lighten the mood.
“What do you think? Quite the imagination, right? Of course, I don’t really believe it will happen.”
The somber atmosphere lifted slightly.
Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myung also felt relieved, as if Yujin Kwang’s retreat meant such a future wouldn’t come to pass.
But now Tang Mujin grew serious.
“Could it really end up that way? All the sects becoming indistinguishable bands of ruffians, differing only in the martial arts they practice?”
“Come on, I was just joking. Don’t take it so seriously. Still, it was a story worth hearing, wasn’t it?”
Tang Mujin and his companions nodded.
The five of them lay back on the grass, gazing up at the star-filled sky. As they looked at the twinkling stars, they felt as if they were falling into that endless expanse.
Beside them lay the body of a former martial artist, also gazing up at the starry sky.
Tang Mujin looked at the body of the Flashing Sword, Yoo Gwan-il, and wondered.
‘If the elder were alive, how would he have reacted to Yujin’s story? Would he have dismissed it as nonsense, or would he have given a bitter smile, acknowledging the keen reading of the times? It’s impossible to know.’
The breathing of the group, as they stared at the sky, became slower and more rhythmic.
Tang Mujin closed his eyes, imagining a future where he and his friends were long gone, buried in the earth.
The sects would not become gangs without identity.
The Taoists of the Qingcheng Sect would not be consumed by martial arts but would strive to understand the truths of the universe. The Wudang Sect would endure tough times and continue to wield their swords bravely.
The Gongdong Sect would rebuild the Hall of Rebirth, and their warriors would engage in laughable chases, claiming to reform rogue warriors.
A hundred years, a thousand years would pass, and it would still be so.
Tang Mujin fell asleep, envisioning a future not so different from the present.