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Episode 6
Three days after Dan-yeop met Ha Yongwol, the exit examination was held.
Unlike the first batch, the second batch of trainees only numbered twenty-two. Including Dan-yeop, that made twenty-three.
Since there were fewer of them, the assessment was more thorough, but all of the second batch qualified to exit.
Once again this year, Dan-yeop attempted the Heaven-and-Earth Dao Method, but the results were poor.
He managed to perform the first move like everyone else, but even from that move he was faltering.
Unlike last year, there were fewer students this time, so he couldn’t just blend in and imitate.
Amid the perfectly synchronized second-batch students, his offbeat movements stood out, giving great amusement to the third batch and below—before he failed.
Right before exiting, Ma Eun-rok smacked Dan-yeop’s ear and threatened, “How dare you meet Ha Yongwol? Once you get out, you’ll die by my hand.”
Failing the exit exam again, Dan-yeop became a headache for the martial instructors of the Tomb of the Terracotta Army.
With the new year, opinions split: some instructors argued, “Just let him graduate and make him do chores,” while others insisted, “We should at least make him capable of pulling his weight.”
Dan Bul-wi, both an instructor and local overseer, belonged to the latter camp. Thanks to his steadily increasing authority, the idea of forcing Dan-yeop’s graduation was scrapped.
“Therefore, put your mind at ease and focus on training. If you rush, what might succeed will surely fail.”
At Dan Bul-wi’s words, Dan-yeop felt genuine gratitude. He never expected this terrifying man to care for him like this.
“Thank you.”
“By the way, I hear you’ve been practicing Dispersed Mind Art?”
“What?”
Dan-yeop flinched, pretending not to hear, but Dan Bul-wi didn’t let it pass.
“That’s greed. I thought you were without greed, but clearly, I was wrong.”
“I just wanted to calm my heart a little…”
“And you ignored the far superior Calm Heart Inner Work of the Sect?”
“…I’m sorry.”
“If you chase after everything greedily, you’ll end up failing at everything.”
“Yes, sir…”
This time, Dan-yeop couldn’t make excuses. He knew Dan Bul-wi was speaking out of concern.
“There’s a reason people avoid practicing Dispersed Mind Art. Do you know what it is?”
“Because it might be fake?”
“That’s part of it, but there’s a bigger reason.”
Dan Bul-wi tapped his forehead with a finger.
“It directly touches here. Train it poorly, and you’ll fall into madness. That’s why it’s dangerous.”
“Ah!”
Even slow-witted Dan-yeop immediately understood.
The True Spirit (Jin-shin) resided in the Heavenly Eye, between the eyebrows.
“Calm Heart Inner Work is slower, but it guarantees safety. Make that your root, and learn simpler techniques from the Six Branches. That would be wise.”
He recommended branch martial techniques, which were as simple as the Heaven-and-Earth Dao Method.
“I’ll think it over.”
“Good. Again, don’t get anxious because you’re behind a few years. Safety is more important than speed. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Then go.”
“Um… Instructor.”
“What is it? Something to say?”
“If ‘spirit’ is called light, then… where is that light?”
“If outside the body, in the sky. If inside, in the heart.”
He answered offhandedly, knowing it was about Dispersed Mind Art. What was the point of being serious about such a marketplace-level manual?
But Dan-yeop did not take his words lightly. Somehow, it felt connected to the saying, “the heart lies in the breath.”
Dan-yeop went to the outskirts, away from his juniors.
Fortunately, not only Dan Bul-wi but also the other instructors left him alone—after all, he hadn’t managed even the Heaven-and-Earth Dao Method in thirteen years. They had given up.
He stopped at a stone chamber in the northern undeveloped zone of the tomb—the very place he had once lost himself in practicing Calm Heart Inner Work.
Sitting cross-legged before the stone wall, he quietly recalled the key formulas of Dispersed Mind Art.
The early parts—about the True Spirit and the Eating Spirit—he already knew by heart.
The middle part spoke of light and the True Spirit.
“Spirit is fire; when the will stirs, it moves. Fire is flame, flame is light, and what moves is the True Spirit…”
Earlier today, Dan Bul-wi had said: “Light is either in the sky or in the heart.”
Come to think of it, spirit, light, and will could all be considered workings of the mind.
“The mind is light?”
Suddenly, a flash of insight struck him.
“The mind is breath!”
In that instant, his breathing changed.
Following the formulas of Calm Heart Inner Work, his breath flowed naturally.
Threads of energy from his dantian unraveled, flowing out and back through his nose.
As he observed this, another thought came.
“Then… is light also in the breath?”
At once, the threads of energy glowed.
With each breath, the luminous thread moved in and out of his nostrils, dazzling.
It felt as though a tiny flame had settled in his dantian.
Was it the result of Calm Heart Inner Work, or of Dispersed Mind Art? He didn’t know.
The flame grew—from acorn-sized to chestnut-sized.
Was it inner energy? An inner elixir? Or just a shining thread? He couldn’t tell.
But there was something more urgent now.
“They say, ‘If you turn the light back upon the Heavenly Eye, you will obtain the Dharma-body and control the Martial Spirit and Literary Spirit at will.’”
Before, he hadn’t understood what “turning the light upon the Heavenly Eye” meant. Now he realized—it meant to literally shine that glowing thread upon the spot between the eyebrows.
It matched perfectly with the final line of Calm Heart Inner Work: “Pursue the light.”
Whether right or wrong, he acted.
He guided the glowing thread, which had reached his nasal cavity, into the space between his brows.
Since Dispersed Mind Art’s True Spirit meant “advancing spirit,” the shining thread advanced without hesitation.
It slid in, smooth as a sword into its sheath.
Suddenly—flash! A blinding light exploded before his eyes.
“Ugh!”
Dan-yeop reflexively clenched his eyes shut.
A piercing ringing echoed in his ears.
Slowly opening his eyes, the boy’s face turned to bewilderment.
“Where am I?”
No matter how many times he looked, he didn’t know.
As he tilted his head in confusion, a flood of strange knowledge poured into his mind. Or rather—memories resurfaced.
Martial arts of the Hao Sect, books on military strategy, mechanics, Buddhist scriptures, the Five Classics, miscellaneous writings…
The boy quickly sorted through the torrent of knowledge.
It took barely a quarter-hour.
Nodding in satisfaction, he realized something was missing.
“But… who am I?”
He searched his clothes, but found only dust.
One thing he did feel sure about:
“Somehow, I think I’m part of the Hao Sect.”
He knew far too much about it not to be.
“Wait, don’t tell me—I’m the Sect Master’s son or something?”
Judging by his carefree muttering, his nature seemed rather optimistic.
Since no more memories surfaced, he left the place where he had first awoken.
Walking through a stone corridor, he spotted a short rope, about three meters long.
Bored, he picked it up and practiced Mountain King Whip.
Snap! Crack!
Perfect—without a single hitch.
Then he tossed it aside and tried Flying Stream Hand. Smooth as water.
Even the famously complicated Golden Thread Hand flowed effortlessly.
He picked up a half-burned branch, swung it—it was Hundred Flow Sword Method. A kick—it was Lightning Step.
The secret martial arts of the Six Branches fit him like second nature.
Clearly, he must have been raised by some sect master with painstaking care.
“No doubt about it.”
He muttered, glancing around.
It was a wide cavern, dim but not pitch black—light entered from somewhere.
“Where am I?” he thought, when suddenly his forehead tingled, and a scene flashed through his mind.
A vast underground cavern filled with earthen soldiers and horses.
“The Tomb of the Terracotta Army? An ancient king’s mausoleum?”
Now he knew where he was—but not the way out.
So he pressed forward, guided only by instinct.
The problem was direction. Instead of heading toward the tomb, he was walking deeper into the undeveloped zones.
As he went, it grew darker.
Anyone else would have turned back, sensing danger. But he kept moving—his amnesia left him no baseline for “normal.”
Still, his instincts must have warned him, for his pace slowed.
“What’s this? Why is there no end?”
By his stride, he had gone at least four kilometers. Yet the tomb wasn’t that large.
At most, three hundred meters each way.
Even with chambers branching like a maze, it couldn’t add up to four kilometers.
“Good grief, I’ll go crazy.”
Despite his complaint, his eyes shone with liveliness. If it came to it, he could always retrace his steps.
He had passed twenty-nine crossroads already. Counting strides, he could walk back with his eyes closed.
He had memorized the Six Branches’ martial arts and eighty-seven books whole—twenty-nine crossroads were nothing.
As long as he had the stamina, getting back would be as easy as pie.
Growl—.
His stomach rumbled, and he sped up again.
Another four kilometers in, he stopped.
Darkness had blinded him, yes—but more importantly, a giant wall blocked his path.
“So this is the end?”
From the point he had started, he had passed forty-nine crossroads and walked eight kilometers underground.
Who built such an immense passage beneath the earth? He longed to know the tomb’s owner.
Running his hands over the wall in frustration, he felt something.
“Hmm?”
There were strange markings etched into the smooth stone, like marble.
Curious, he pressed his palms over the wall, feeling carefully.
Trying to read the carvings by touch alone.
After a while, blinking into the darkness, he muttered:
“Whoever made this must’ve been mad.”
For what he felt carved at the center of the wall could hardly be called sane.
A man grasping a snake in each hand. Below it, words:
Sever the head of the Wind Lord [斩风伯首]
Shatter the skull of the Cloud Master [破云师颅]
By decree against Heaven [逆天行令]
Rectify the qi of the Celestial Realm [整天界气]
To humans, the Wind Lord and Cloud Master were divine beings.
And this inscription urged cutting and smashing them? Clearly, the work of a lunatic.
But could a lunatic build such a colossal underground mausoleum?
“Whoever you are, I get that you were resentful, but… what do you expect me to do about it?”
The wall, naturally, gave no reply.
After a long silence, the boy turned away.
How could he, who didn’t even know who he was, carry out some “decree against Heaven”?
And yet—youthful curiosity tugged at him.
Turning back, he rubbed his smooth chin and muttered:
“Feels like… going to the bathroom and not wiping afterwards.”
