Chapter 9
When the boy stored the Golden Jade Garment in the Mahadam, Red Pine Master finally began teaching him the techniques of the Taego Sect.
“The method I will teach you now is the very root of Taego Sect—the Primordial Sword (混元劍). Unless you understand the mystery of all-in-one-sword, one-sword-in-all, you cannot wield it. For now, just memorize it. When the sword soars into the sky, its light cuts through the Nine Heavens [劍若乘空 光斬九霄]…”
After reciting the incantation of the Primordial Sword, the boy carefully asked,
“Um, Master, what exactly are the Nine Heavens [九霄]?”
“The Nine Heavens are the skies beyond the Nine Layers of Heaven.”
“Does such a place really exist?”
“The universe is infinite. How could there not be a place beyond the Nine Layers?”
“Ah, yes.”
The boy answered half-heartedly.
He knew well that the names and chants of martial arts were full of exaggeration and metaphor. After all, the tomb library contained things like the Eight Imperial Dao Techniques, supposedly created by the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors.
Although the boy’s reaction was lukewarm, Red Pine Master didn’t press further. The Primordial Sword was indeed the root of Taego Sect, but with no great cultivators in ages, its very essence had become uncertain.
“The Primordial Sword cannot even be imitated until you at least reach the stage of True Person. Don’t waste effort trying too soon. The art you’ll use throughout your life is the Unhindered Sword (無碍劍).”
He then taught him the three basic forms of the Unhindered Sword: Sword Light White Wave (劍光白波), Sword Intent Forms a Circle (劍意成環), and Sword Spirit Annihilation (劍靈滅盡).
In truth, the Unhindered Sword was merely the entry-level martial art for inner disciples of the Taego Sect. Red Pine Master only taught him this much because he knew nothing more advanced could be cultivated in the human realm.
To be honest, mastering even the Great Void Shadowless Sword was unlikely. Teaching the Unhindered Sword on top of that was only because of the Golden Jade Garment.
But no matter how much primordial energy the garment contained, human lifespan was too short to go further.
Finally, Red Pine Master taught him the movement technique Divine Water-Moon Steps (水月神行).
When the boy imitated the movements, Red Pine Master laughed.
“For now, it may feel like nothing more than a dancer’s flashy steps. But once mastered, your movements will be as subtle as the moon reflected on water. Even descendants of the sect will struggle to harm you.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Smiling warmly, Red Pine Master suddenly raised his palm.
—Sssssshhh!
Colorful mist rose above his palm, forming into a glowing elixir pill.
“This is a Condensed Qi Pill (凝氣丹), forged from my own Taiyi Qi (太乙氣). Taking it will help you train in the Taiyi Original Cultivation Formula.”
“Oh! Something this precious… Thank you, Master!”
The boy popped the pill into his mouth immediately.
The pill melted the moment it touched his tongue, sliding down his throat. Hot and cold energy rushed through his stomach, filling him with strange sensations.
“Don’t just stand there dazed. Absorb it using the Taiyi Original Formula,” his master urged.
At once, the boy sat cross-legged and began silently reciting the chant.
A raging whirlpool of energy surged within him, but after three cycles of the formula, it calmed down.
When he opened his eyes, Red Pine Master asked,
“How many cycles did you complete?”
“Three.”
“Well done. To skip the minor elixirs and jump straight to the great elixir… you must have been pure. You were lucky.”
“You mean I was… a virgin?”
“In all likelihood.”
“Do I have to stay one forever?”
“Of course not. The elixir has already stabilized. Whether you remain pure or not no longer matters.”
“Ah, that’s a relief.”
As the boy sighed in relief, Red Pine Master teased,
“Do you have a girl in mind?”
“No, I just don’t want to become a monk or a priest.”
“Good. Since the elixir has settled, your cultivation won’t be hindered.”
“Master, if the elixir has formed, does that mean I’m already a great internal master?”
“I imbued that pill with a hundred years of my cultivation. But your elixir has not yet absorbed it all. For now, you have only half the power. Once you fully refine the Taiyi Qi with the formula and can control the elixir at will, then you will truly be a master.”
“So I need to keep training until all of it is absorbed?”
“Yes. Until then, try to stay pure. If you sleep with a woman, the remaining Taiyi Qi will scatter.”
“Yes, I’ll avoid women.”
“Also, the sect’s descendants are ruthless. Stay hidden until you master the Great Void Shadowless Sword. I ask this only because I hope to reclaim the Golden Jade Garment after your lifespan ends.”
For Red Pine Master, who had lived longer than the stars, a boy’s lifetime was but a fleeting moment. That was why he entrusted the garment to him.
And yet, deep down, he truly hoped his rare human disciple would live long.
The boy, shaken by his words, nodded vigorously.
“I’ll remember, Master.”
Red Pine Master gazed at him for a while before murmuring, almost to himself,
“If, by some impossible chance… truly impossible… you gain such fortune as to shed your mortal shell and ascend… No, that’s nonsense.”
“What if I did ascend?” the boy asked slyly.
“Do you even know what shedding the shell means?”
“You mean like the Daoist cicada casting off its shell?”
“That’s only the mortal version.”
“Oh.”
“When the elixir merges fully with your primordial spirit, you form a Nascent Soul (元嬰). After three hundred years of cultivation, your body itself becomes one with the Nascent Soul—that’s true ascension, or shedding the shell. In heavenly terms, that’s three hundred years, but in the human realm it’s closer to three thousand. Once you have that form, you can freely traverse the nearby heavens and demon realms through the mental world.”
“Ah, I see.”
The boy scratched his ear, unimpressed.
Red Pine Master nearly lost patience, but continued,
“If—by heaven’s fortune—you ever do ascend, return the Golden Jade Garment to Taego Sect.”
“My Golden Jade Garment?”
“Fool! How could Taego Sect’s treasure be yours? Must I reclaim it by force?”
The implication that he could kill him for it made the boy jump.
“Oh no! I was just joking. Of course I’ll return it if that day comes.”
“Good. Anything else you want to ask?”
“No.”
“Then this is farewell. In the human realm, we shall never meet again. Live your one life without regrets.”
The boy blinked.
“Master, are you leaving?”
“Of course. I must return to the heavens, to join Shijie and Liuyuebin. Once I’m gone, retrace your steps and return.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
“Don’t I need to get out of this tomb first?”
“I told you—I leave through the mental world.”
“You mean… right here in this underground tomb?”
Red Pine Master chuckled at his disciple’s incredulity.
“Watch carefully.”
He raised his right hand in a sword sign before his face.
At once, dazzling light engulfed his entire body.
Then, in an instant, the light faded—and he was gone.
“Master?!”
The boy shouted in shock, but no trace of Red Pine Master remained.
“What…?”
He circled the stone coffin, finding only the bag and the open lid left behind.
It wasn’t a dream—his master had truly vanished into light.
The boy grabbed the massive lid with both hands.
“Haah!”
With a shout, he heaved. The stone lid—thick as a man’s arm—slowly shifted.
Rumble—Thud!
The sound echoed through the tomb.
The boy stared at it, overwhelmed.
When he first came here, the lid hadn’t budged an inch.
“What did he say? Retrace my steps…”
He leapt up the tiered tomb with ease. Three bounds brought him to the top, where he began retracing his path.
Soon, he reached the spot where the floor had collapsed.
But what he saw made his eyes widen.
The open shaft above was sealed, and on the wall before him was a carving of a man holding a snake, with strange writing beside it.
“What? Where is this?”
Panicked, he turned around—only to find the passage he had come through was gone.
He now stood before nothing but that carved wall.
It was as if ghosts had shifted reality around him.
The only difference was that, unlike before, he could clearly see the carvings even in the dark.
“The elixir… that’s why.”
After staring at the carved figure for a while, he turned and retraced his path again.
This time, he quickly reached the spot where he had first awakened. Then, choosing the opposite direction, he began walking—toward the Tomb of the Terracotta Army.
From afar, he finally spotted the terracotta mausoleum and his face lit up.
But the joy didn’t last long.
As he approached, an odd heaviness settled over him.
“Hmm…”
Strange. A moment ago he’d felt as if he were floating, but now, standing near the place he had lived all his life—and would continue to live—his mood sank.
Just then, two large boys appeared in his path.
The boy, feeling relieved to see others, strode toward them.
“Wait! Brothers, can I ask you something?”
At his call, Dengpyeong and Jeonjung froze in their tracks.
The two third-generation trainees exchanged a startled look.
Dan-yeop was speaking first?
That hadn’t happened once in seven years.
Though a first-generation student, he had always been ignored—even beaten months ago by his peer, Magol of the third generation.
And now he wanted to act like a senior?
Suspicious, Dengpyeong coldly asked,
“What is it?”
“Do you know who I am?”
His face instantly twisted.
“Don’t tell me you’re upset that a third-generation didn’t greet a first-generation?”
“No, I’m asking because you don’t seem to know who I am. Who am I?”
The air grew tense.
They exchanged quick glances.
There was no way he meant this seriously—it had to be provocation.
Dengpyeong smirked.
Magol had earned fame for beating Dan-yeop. Now maybe it was his turn.
“Why? Didn’t Instructor Dan teach you who you were today?” he mocked.
The boy blinked, more curious about the instructor than the insult.
“And who is Instructor Dan…?”
He almost slipped into casual speech, but held back, sensing he might miss something important.
Thinking he had just backed down, Dengpyeong pressed confidently.
“Dan Bulwi, the instructor. Your foster father.”
“Ah, foster father. Then what’s my name?”
Jeonjung, eager to join the fun, cut in.
“Dan-yeop! You’ve been called ‘Stone Monkey’ so much you forgot your own name? Damn, that’s pathetic.”
At last, the boy realized who he was.
“Ah! So I’m Dan-yeop. From the way you said it, I’m first-generation, you’re third-generation—so the numbers must be the order we entered the mausoleum, right?”
Something in his demeanor shifted, though Jeonjung failed to notice.
“That’s right. But don’t think you can act like a senior just because you’re first-gen. Seniority only works on the fourth-gen recruits—if they even respect you at all. Hah!”
