Episode 242: The Journey to Zhongnan Sect

With Wudang Mountain as their destination, the group could easily reach it by heading northeast from Chongqing. However, they decided to take a detour north to visit the Zhongnan Sect, extending their journey by about five days.

This decision was strongly advocated by Yeongheo, the head of the Qingcheng Sect. When asked why, Yeongheo nonchalantly replied, “I just felt like visiting Zhongnan Sect after such a long time.”

But with eight people traveling together, such a flimsy reason seemed insufficient to justify the detour. Tang Mujin suspected Yeongheo had ulterior motives, though he couldn’t guess what they might be.

After pondering for a while, Tang Mujin discreetly inquired if anyone knew the real reason for visiting Zhongnan Sect, though he didn’t expect much. Surprisingly, someone did have an idea—Hyeongong.

Hyeongong answered with a shrug, “It’s to make sure Zhongnan Sect attends the upcoming meeting. They’re likely to skip it otherwise.”

Tang Mujin was puzzled. “Why would Zhongnan Sect skip it? They’re the closest sect to Wudang.”

“Zhongnan Sect doesn’t like Wudang. They rarely cooperate,” Hyeongong explained with a subtle expression.

“Is there a reason for the bad blood?” Tang Mujin asked.

Hyeongong hesitated, then said, “It’s not like they have many chances to clash. It’s just that the people of Zhongnan Sect are naturally petty and love to nitpick over trivial matters.”

Hyeongong seemed to gloss over the details, but Tang Mujin and Hong Geolge sensed there was more to the story. They noticed Namgung Myung smirking knowingly.

“Namgung Myung, you know something, don’t you?” Tang Mujin pressed.

“Well, when you’re the eldest son of a prominent family, you end up knowing things whether you want to or not,” Namgung Myung replied with a grin.

“What is it?” Tang Mujin and Hong Geolge urged.

Hyeongong gestured for Namgung Myung to keep quiet, but Namgung Myung wasn’t intimidated. Their relationship had never been one where threats worked, and recently, Namgung Myung’s martial prowess had even surpassed Hyeongong’s.

Namgung Myung shrugged, “Well, if they’re asking, I have to answer, right?”

“Just don’t start spouting nonsense,” Hyeongong grumbled, moving away to join Eun Seonrim and Jin Hae, who had been unusually attentive to him lately.

With Hyeongong gone, Hong Geolge urged Namgung Myung, “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“It’s a bit of a long story, but since we have a long journey ahead, it’s perfect timing. You know Zhongnan Sect is one of the oldest Taoist sects, right?”

Tang Mujin and Hong Geolge nodded in unison. While no one knew for sure which was the first Taoist sect, it was widely accepted that one of three sects held that title: Gongdong Sect, which claimed Guangchengzi as its founder; Qingcheng Sect, located in the birthplace of Taoism; and Zhongnan Sect, which also claimed to be the birthplace of Taoism.

Tang Mujin suddenly had a thought and asked, “Did Wudang claim to be older than Zhongnan?”

Namgung Myung quickly waved his hand. “Of course not. Everyone knows Wudang is a relatively new sect. This is more about practical matters.”

Namgung Myung pulled out a wooden board and scratched a rough map onto its surface with a small awl. The map showed the central plains, slightly tilted north, highlighting Shaanxi, Hubei, and Henan.

He marked a point in Shaanxi for Zhongnan Sect and another in Gansu for Gongdong Sect. “To understand, you need to know where Zhongnan Sect is. This point is Zhongnan, and this one is Gongdong. Both have long histories and get along fine.”

Tang Mujin and Hong Geolge hummed in agreement, understanding that the real issue lay elsewhere.

Namgung Myung marked another point northeast of Zhongnan, still within Shaanxi. “This is where Huashan Sect is. You’ve heard of them, right?”

“Of course,” Tang Mujin replied, studying the map. The distance between Zhongnan and Huashan was about half that between Zhongnan and Gongdong.

Namgung Myung added, “Zhongnan doesn’t just dislike Wudang; they also have issues with Huashan.”

“Why Huashan?” Hong Geolge asked, puzzled.

“Both are in Shaanxi. Zhongnan didn’t mind when Huashan first appeared, but as Huashan grew, problems arose.”

“What kind of problems?”

“People wanting to learn martial arts or pursue Taoism in Shaanxi started flocking to Huashan instead of Zhongnan. It’s like a rolling stone displacing a settled one.”

“But Zhongnan has a much longer history. Why would people choose Huashan over them?” Hong Geolge wondered.

“Huashan used clever tactics to win people over. They weren’t as focused on Taoism or martial arts as they were on dazzling people with peculiar skills. At least, that’s what a Zhongnan Taoist once told me. Don’t take it as my opinion.”

Tang Mujin and Hong Geolge recalled a rumor about Huashan’s martial arts. “You mean the plum blossom scent?”

“Exactly,” Namgung Myung confirmed.

There was a famous rumor that mastering Huashan’s sword techniques would make one emit a plum blossom fragrance. Though neither Tang Mujin nor Hong Geolge had met a Huashan martial artist to confirm this, the rumor was well-known, even reaching Tang Mujin in Chengdu.

Namgung Myung continued, “Zhongnan’s martial arts are profound, but it’s hard to convey their greatness to ordinary people.”

He lowered his voice, ensuring others couldn’t overhear. “But Huashan’s martial arts are easy to describe. Their swords supposedly carry a plum blossom scent, and when wielded, it seems as if plum blossoms bloom. If you were someone who’d never learned swordsmanship, which would you choose, Zhongnan or Huashan?”

“Huashan, probably,” Tang Mujin admitted.

“Exactly.”

It was a foregone conclusion. Huashan’s distinct feature made it more appealing than Zhongnan’s long but indistinct history. The poetic descriptions of Huashan’s martial arts only added to its allure.

“And I think it was a subtle provocation towards Zhongnan. By using plum blossoms, Huashan cleverly linked themselves to Lan Caihe, a Taoist immortal known for carrying a flower basket, whom Zhongnan Taoists admire.”

“Ah, I see,” Tang Mujin realized.

The connection from Huashan’s plum blossoms to Lan Caihe’s flower basket was a clever and provocative move by Huashan. Tang Mujin and Hong Geolge were impressed by Huashan’s cunning strategy.

Though the story was intriguing, Tang Mujin realized it had veered off course. He sharply pointed out, “But that’s about Zhongnan and Huashan, not Zhongnan and Wudang. Why do Zhongnan and Wudang have issues?”

“Look at Wudang’s location,” Namgung Myung said, marking another point on the map.

Southeast of Zhongnan, Wudang was as close as Huashan was to Zhongnan. It seemed as if Gongdong to the west, Huashan to the northeast, and Wudang to the southeast were encircling Zhongnan.

“Imagine this isn’t about sects but inns. Would an inn surrounded by competitors thrive?”

“It wouldn’t,” Tang Mujin conceded.

“Exactly. Zhongnan’s decline is partly due to Gongdong, Wudang, and Huashan. While Gongdong and Zhongnan have a long-standing relationship, Wudang and Huashan are seen as nuisances.”

The three of them glanced at Hyeongong, whose ears perked up slightly. Though he was conversing with Eun Seonrim and Jin Hae, he was clearly eavesdropping on their conversation.

Namgung Myung added, “Of course, this is just what a Zhongnan Taoist told me. It might be biased, so judge the facts for yourself.”

“Naturally. It sounded like something a Zhongnan person would say,” Tang Mujin agreed, sharing a knowing smile with the others.

Ultimately, who told the story didn’t matter much to them.

“Anyway, when Wudang was first established, Zhongnan’s leader tried to drive them out, claiming Wudang Mountain wasn’t a proper Taoist site and that settling there was a sly move.”

“But Wudang ended up staying, didn’t they?” Tang Mujin noted.

Namgoong Myung nodded thoughtfully.

“Zhang Sanfeng, the founder of the Wudang Sect, was the greatest martial artist of his time.”

“Ah…”

“He became the best in the world at forty and remained so even past a hundred. They say he lived to be over a hundred and twenty.”

So, he held the title of the greatest for over eighty years. A rolling stone that could easily dislodge a settled one with such a long reign.

Tang Mujin felt a subtle sympathy for the Taoists of the Zhongnan Sect.

As they chatted, the group arrived at the foot of Mount Zhongnan.

Upon reaching the Zhongnan Sect, Tang Mujin couldn’t help but compare it to the Wudang Sect. Unlike the well-maintained and pristine Wudang, the Zhongnan Sect had a slightly shabby appearance. The place was eerily quiet, too. One could call it serene, but it also had the air of a sect in decline.

As they approached the main gate, one of the two young Taoists standing guard asked, “Where have you come from?”

There was no hostility in the young Taoist’s voice. It wasn’t because he recognized Yong Heo-ja and Hyang Baek-sa-tae. He was simply glad to see visitors, breaking the monotony of his day. Their attire didn’t suggest they were dangerous either.

Yong Heo-ja replied, “I am Yong Heo-ja of the Qingcheng Sect, and this is Hyang Baek-sa-tae of the Emei Sect. Beside us is Tang Mujin of the Tang family.”

Yong Heo-ja introduced the three leading figures of their group. Though unintentional, it gave the impression that they were equals.

Namgoong Myung and Hyun Gong hoped their names would be mentioned, but naturally, that didn’t happen.

The unexpected appearance of such prominent figures as Yong Heo-ja and Hyang Baek-sa-tae left the two young Taoists of the Zhongnan Sect in a state of shock.

“Please wait a moment!”

One of the young Taoists hurried inside.

Soon, a Taoist of seemingly higher rank appeared and greeted Yong Heo-ja with a respectful bow.

“It’s been a while.”

“I believe we’ve met before. Was it Sungcheon Taoist? If I’m mistaken, please don’t take offense.”

A smile spread across the Taoist’s face. “You remember correctly. What brings you here?”

“We came to see an old acquaintance. Is Ilseonja here?”

Ilseonja was the title of the head of the Zhongnan Sect.

Sungcheon Taoist shook his head at Yong Heo-ja’s question. “He left for Wudang Mountain two days ago.”

“I see.”

Contrary to expectations, it seemed Ilseonja intended to attend the meeting. It wouldn’t be wise to refuse when the distance wasn’t far.

As Yong Heo-ja nodded, Sungcheon Taoist suggested, “Since you’re here, why not stay the night?”

Yong Heo-ja was about to accept the offer but glanced at Hyun Gong, who seemed uncomfortable. He quickly changed his mind.

“No, it’s fine. We came to see someone, and if they’re not here, it’s only right to leave.”

Understanding Yong Heo-ja’s reasoning, Sungcheon Taoist didn’t press further.

The group descended from Mount Zhongnan and secured rooms at a modest inn. They planned to share four rooms, two people per room.

However, even after dinner and as they prepared for bed, Namgoong Myung seemed distracted, his expression distant.

Tang Mujin asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Oh… nothing, really.”

That was all Namgoong Myung said, but it was clear something was off. He occasionally trembled and paced the inn’s backyard like a restless puppy.

Tang Mujin considered asking again but decided against it. A man doesn’t meddle in another man’s affairs.

Eventually, Namgoong Myung, still restless, was the first to retire to his room. Tang Mujin, after tending to his sword, followed suit. The fatigue from their travels made it easy to fall asleep.

But before dawn, Tang Mujin awoke. Having been home for a while, sleeping elsewhere felt uncomfortable. The absence of Dansulyeong or Mokwana beside him felt strangely unfamiliar, like he’d skipped a nightly ritual.

He glanced at the spot next to him, keeping his eyes half-closed to hold onto sleep. He expected Namgoong Myung to be there, but the space was empty.

Adjusting his position, Tang Mujin closed his eyes again. ‘He must have gone to the restroom.’

Just as sleep was about to reclaim him, he sensed a presence. It was faint, yet familiar enough to identify without looking. Namgoong Myung.

But something was odd. The presence came from above his head.

‘The door is at the foot of the bed, though.’

Opening his eyes slightly, Tang Mujin looked up. Sure enough, it was Namgoong Myung.

The problem was that Namgoong Myung, dressed in dark clothes, was climbing in through the window. In his hand was an old, unfamiliar sword.

The sight sent a chill down Tang Mujin’s spine.

As he sprang up, Namgoong Myung flinched in surprise.

Tang Mujin stammered, “Did you… do it?”

”…I couldn’t resist.”

Namgoong Myung grinned sheepishly, his face devoid of guilt, filled only with satisfaction and excitement.