As time passed and the weather cooled, the beads of sweat on the foreheads of those visiting Shaolin Temple began to disappear. Rumors spread that the Wooden Man Alley had been repaired.
The regular meeting that followed saw an unusually large attendance. The head of the Chu Bo Hall informed the monks and leaders that the repairs on the Wooden Man Alley were complete.
“In three days, the Wooden Man Alley will open. Anyone curious should come and see for themselves,” he added.
Naturally, there wasn’t a single person at the meeting who wasn’t intrigued by the Wooden Man Alley.
The monks, ranging in age from their forties to sixties, tried to maintain a composed demeanor, but their eyes were filled with curiosity and excitement.
What kind of facility was this Wooden Man Alley that hadn’t moved in over three hundred years? Was it true that the wooden figures used to move in the past?
The facility had been abandoned for so long that even many of the higher-ranking monks knew little about it.
Three days passed in an unusually excited atmosphere for Shaolin Temple, and the middle-aged monks gathered in front of the Wooden Man Alley from the morning.
The younger monks of the Jeong and Jin ranks couldn’t join because the senior monks had given them plenty of tasks to keep them busy.
The anticipation and curiosity about the Wooden Man Alley were so great that the senior monks didn’t hesitate to abuse their authority.
“I will open the door now.”
The head of the Chu Bo Hall unlatched the door. The building, so old that its wooden brown color had almost faded away, revealed itself.
“The building hasn’t been repaired, has it?”
“We didn’t have the resources to go that far.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not criticizing. What’s important is what’s inside, isn’t it?”
The head of the Chu Bo Hall nodded and led the people inside.
Few monks had ever been inside this part of the temple. They looked around with expressions full of curiosity.
The building was old but well-cleaned, and the strong scent of castor oil lingered in the air.
The head of the Chu Bo Hall stopped in front of an unusually large sliding door.
“This is the Wooden Man Alley.”
The sliding door opened.
Thirty-six wooden figures lined up on either side of the alley came into view.
“Impressive.”
“Did they carve all these wooden statues in such a short time? Remarkable.”
The monks marveled at the sight.
The thirty-six wooden figures inside the alley were unlike the roughly carved ones of the past.
Their appearance was more intricate than any Buddha statue within the temple, and each of the thirty-six figures had a unique face and pose, as if they might spring to life at any moment.
Some monks were satisfied with just this. However, those who had heard more about the Wooden Man Alley expressed their doubts to the head of the Chu Bo Hall.
“I heard that the wooden figures in the old Wooden Man Alley used to move.”
When Gyejiwonju mentioned this, the monk next to him, Giyeogyesung, scoffed.
“Do you really believe that?”
“But haven’t you heard the same stories?”
“Over time, things that never happened become things that did, and real events get embellished into new tales. Stories of seeing wooden figures that seemed alive turn into tales of seeing them actually move.”
Giyeogyesung’s critical and sharp observation made several monks nod in agreement.
Yet, there was a subtle disappointment in their expressions. Many had come hoping to see the wooden figures move.
At that moment, the head of the Chu Bo Hall spoke up.
“They will move.”
“Move?”
“Yes. Just wait a moment.”
That was all the explanation he gave.
Giyeogyesung looked around, unsure if it was a joke or the truth, and waited silently.
After a short while, two people entered the alley carrying a long rod and a small mortar-like component. They were Dang Mujin and Goeui.
“Sorry for the delay.”
Ignoring the curious stares, Dang Mujin entered the alley and opened a section of the floor.
The monks saw the complex structure beneath the Wooden Man Alley, but none could comprehend it.
Dang Mujin gestured to Goeui, who inserted the rod into a hole beside the sliding door and pulled.
The floor structure shifted, creating a gap just the right size for the component. Dang Mujin inserted the mortar-like piece into the gap, poured a little castor oil, and closed the floor.
He then moved to the side of the sliding door, took hold of the rod Goeui had pulled, and felt his heart race.
“Alright. Let’s begin.”
Taking a deep breath, Dang Mujin slowly pushed the rod. A low rumbling sound accompanied a slight tremor beneath their feet.
At that moment, the wooden figures lining the alley began to move.
The thirty-six poses transformed into thirty-six movements. The flawless choreography of the wooden figures filled the monks’ vision.
A spectacle unseen for centuries unfolded before them.
“Guanyin Bodhisattva…”
The monks were far more astonished than when the figures were still.
Dang Mujin stepped forward to explain to the wide-eyed monks.
“Some of you may already know, but the Wooden Man Alley is not just a decorative piece. It’s a training facility.”
It would have been nice if someone chimed in or responded, but the monks were too captivated, merely gasping for breath as they watched.
Dang Mujin continued.
“The method is simple. With each step forward, you must execute a technique to block the wooden figure’s attack and reach the end of the alley. Of course, you must not use internal energy. The figures would break. You must purely execute techniques and connect the forms as you advance.”
The monks repeated the instructions to themselves as they watched the moving figures. One step, one technique. To pass through the thirty-six slightly staggered wooden figures, they needed thirty-six steps and thirty-six techniques.
Their gazes intertwined in a complex web.
They were eager to try, but hesitant to be the first.
Then, one person stepped forward. It was Akgu Gyesung Cheongbok.
“May I go first?”
The monks were a bit surprised. Wasn’t Cheongbok known for his disdain for the Wooden Man Alley?
But on the other hand, there was no one more fitting to be the first challenger. Of the two who had been troubled by the Wooden Man Alley, only Cheongbok was a monk.
The monks nodded, and Cheongbok stood before the alley with a satisfied expression.
He observed the movements of the first wooden figure on the right, then the first on the left. How could he navigate this path?
Cheongbok pondered various strategies but eventually shook off his thoughts. You never know until you try. With a half-resigned attitude, he stepped into the alley.
He blocked the first wooden figure’s two punches with palm techniques and dodged a kick by extending his right leg forward.
Then, he took a step forward.
Now, the first wooden figure on the left attacked. Cheongbok used the initial technique of the Dalma Eighteen Hands to block the high attack and stepped back half a step with the Golden Bell stance. He then adapted the technique of the Xinyi Fist to defend against the attack and took another step forward.
Thus, he advanced precariously with the third and fourth steps. The monks whispered as they watched Cheongbok’s back.
“If it were me, I might have tried to hold out with the Small Flood Step there.”
“While blocking with the Seven Star Fist?”
“It seems more natural to deflect using the Child Worships Buddha technique.”
“No, the Seven Star Fist is right. Using the Child Worships Buddha technique limits the next form.”
“Ah, I see. But the Seven Star Fist isn’t perfect either. You might lose your balance.”
As the monks exchanged opinions in hushed tones, Cheongbok stumbled over the sixth wooden figure’s foot.
Thud. A dull sound.
For a moment, silence fell over the Wooden Man Alley. It seemed Cheongbok’s face had turned red.
Cheongbok, who had always disliked the Wooden Man Alley. Cheongbok, who had been fiery-tempered from a young age.
And now, the embarrassment in front of so many people.
A clear sense of unease arose in the monks’ hearts. It was easy to predict how Cheongbok might react.
Just as Manryeokseung was about to rush forward to restrain Cheongbok, he sat up.
Instead of venting his frustration on the wooden figures, he burst into hearty laughter.
“This is insane. Insane! I can’t believe something like this exists!”
Manryeokseung halted in his tracks.
It was the laughter of someone who hadn’t laughed in a long time. Cheongbok’s laughter and voice were filled with pure joy, devoid of any anger or embarrassment.
Martial arts training is an endless cycle of simple repetition.
After enduring bone-crushing pain, one day you look back and realize you’ve made some progress. While measuring the distance you’ve advanced is gratifying, the hardship of the journey often outweighs the joy.
Countless martial artists have given up on the path, unable to overcome that pain. Even renowned sects and Shaolin Temple have seen this.
But for Cheongbok, the Wooden Man Alley was pure delight. It felt more like a game than training.
Just six steps. Cheongbok faced countless choices and possibilities.
What if I had responded differently to the third wooden dummy’s attack? What if I had used a different footwork in front of the fourth? Would it have been better if I hadn’t rushed at the fifth dummy, but instead gathered my strength and advanced slowly?
Faced with countless questions, Cheongbok did his best, only to stumble. It was a clean failure, free from any trickery. Yet, instead of feeling shame or defeat, Cheongbok felt a surge of competitive spirit.
Next time, I think I can go a bit further. I can refine the process to be smoother and more efficient.
I have to try again. I need to get knocked around by the dummies once more.
What should I do next time? Will this work?
As Cheongbok returned to the starting point, he envisioned himself standing at the end of the wooden dummy path, having gained new insights.
With a satisfied expression, Cheongbok spoke to the other monks.
“After getting knocked around, I understand now. This isn’t just a simple mechanism. It’s a puzzle to be solved with the body, a martial arts manual crafted from wood and machinery, not ink and paper.”
Cheongbok turned to Dang Mujin with a question.
“Hey, Dang.”
“Yes?”
“When you reach the end of the wooden dummy path, what is the name of the martial arts you’ll realize?”
“The fist technique is called Baekryeon Divine Fist, and the footwork is called Buddha’s Shadow Immortal Step.”
These were the names of the martial arts discovered while dismantling the old mechanism beneath the wooden dummy path. Names that might have been forgotten if not for a thorough search.
“If I had a great elixir in my hand right now, I’d give it to you without hesitation. You’ve given Shaolin an incredible gift.”
A rare compliment from the usually reserved Cheongbok.
The older monks eagerly took on the challenge of the wooden dummy path.
“Alright, here goes Dalma Hall’s Cheonghwan!”
“I’m next.”
The Shaolin monks took turns challenging the path. They stumbled, got hit on the back of the head by the dummies, and were kicked in the sides. Yet, none felt embarrassed.
Cheers and playful jeers erupted.
At that moment, they weren’t the esteemed elders of Shaolin. They seemed more like fifteen-year-old novices sparring in front of the Dalma Hall.
They were genuinely delighted to face the wooden dummy path after centuries and expressed their gratitude to Dang Mujin for reviving such a precious mechanism.
When everyone had taken a turn, the one who advanced the furthest was Arhat Hall’s leader, Cheonguk.
He managed to take eleven steps. Even more impressive was that he achieved this by improvising techniques in response to the dummies’ movements, rather than relying on the martial arts he already knew.
By repeatedly challenging the path, he would eventually master the Baekryeon Divine Fist and Buddha’s Shadow Immortal Step without even realizing it.
As the turn came back around, and Cheongbok was about to challenge the path again, someone spoke up.
“It seems we’re having too much fun among ourselves. Shouldn’t we give Dang, who worked the hardest, a chance? He might know the solution better than any of us.”
Dang Mujin smiled and stepped up to the wooden dummy path.
In truth, Dang Mujin was the only one who knew the thirty-six techniques and thirty-six steps to conquer the path. The person who knows the answer best is not the smartest, but the one who posed the question.
Dang Mujin had created and repaired the wooden dummy path with Dan Seolyeong, delving into the records passed down in the Dan family. By retracing the steps of the path’s creator, he had restored it. Knowing the actions of the thirty-six dummies inside out, he couldn’t help but know the answer.
As Dang Mujin stood at the starting line, the monks cheered. The usual solemn expressions were long gone.
Dang Mujin executed the Baekryeon Divine Fist while stepping with the Buddha’s Shadow Immortal Step.
One step, two steps. The twenty or so martial artists at their peak watched Dang Mujin’s movements intently. His approach was entirely different and more efficient than any other. The essence of the martial arts they had speculated about was being demonstrated by the young Dang Mujin.
However, Dang Mujin had no intention of reaching the end of the path.
‘Cheonguk took eleven steps.’
Dang Mujin stopped precisely at the twelfth step.
It was an act of consideration.
The joy of a puzzle lies not in knowing the answer but in the process of pondering over it.
Dang Mujin was not so thoughtless as to reveal the answer to the puzzle hastily, especially when it was the most intriguing puzzle posed in three hundred years.
Understanding Dang Mujin’s consideration, the monks cheered.
Dang Mujin turned back with an awkward smile. Among the laughing monks, one stood with a calm expression. It was the Discipline Hall’s head, Cheongyul.
Cheongyul spoke.
“Dang, you’ve gone the furthest. You could reach the end if you wished. But—”
Dang Mujin felt an inexplicable unease. Yet, Cheongyul continued, seemingly unaware of Dang Mujin’s thoughts.
“Master Dalma left three precepts for Shaolin to uphold. The Great Three Precepts.”
“First, no women are allowed within the mountain gates.”
“Second, those expelled from Shaolin shall not be readmitted. Breaking this rule results in the severing of the ankle.”
“Third, one must not learn martial arts without a formal master, nor steal knowledge. Breaking this rule results in death or the severing of the meridians.”
“I ask you, Dang. Who was your master when you learned the Baekryeon Divine Fist and Buddha’s Shadow Immortal Step?”