The Ceremony of Attachment (2):
"Can you feel it? That is the secret of the Ceremony of Attachment (着의 식). It allows you to draw and attach anything. That includes qi (氣), without exception."
"Qi?"
Was that the inner energy that martial artists talked about?
Cheongryeong looked at Mok Gyeongun with a baffled expression.
"Don't tell me… you didn't even know that?"
In response to her reaction, Mok Gyeongun just shrugged.
After all, until recently, he hadn't even known what martial arts really were.
'So this is what it was.'
Yet it was definitely his first time learning about this.
Still… why did it feel like this wasn't the first time he had experienced it?
When he had first been poisoned by a toxic herb, his grandfather had gently rubbed his back and stomach.
'…It felt warm back then too.'
It wasn't just his palms that were warm—his whole body had felt warm, just like now.
Could it be… that his grandfather had also practiced internal energy?
A small suspicion began to grow.
Then, the warm energy—qi—that had been entering his palm suddenly turned cold.
Unlike a moment ago, it felt chilly and unfamiliar.
"It suddenly turned cold."
"Cold?"
Cheongryeong tilted her head at Mok Gyeongun's words.
"Why is that?"
"Cold, you say? Hmm… That shouldn't be happening."
"It's cold. It feels just like…"
It was close to the deathly aura or yin energy that only the dead gave off.
Mok Gyeongun, who had been close to death many times while killing those responsible for his grandfather's death, was all too familiar with this sensation.
That's why it felt similar to him.
But then, it stopped.
Throb!
The veins on the back of Mok Gyeongun's hand bulged.
Seeing this, Cheongryeong nodded as if she understood.
"It must be because your energy is depleted. Stop your breathing and cease using the Ceremony of Attachment."
"Alright."
Recalling the sensations he had just experienced, Mok Gyeongun held his breath and focused.
As he did, the qi that had been pulling into his palm stopped, and the bulging veins began to subside.
"Phew."
As Mok Gyeongun calmed the Ceremony of Attachment, he felt something else.
The qi that had entered his body was now quickly dispersing.
"The warm energy is fading away."
"That's natural. The fundamental nature of qi is to disperse. It's like the air you breathe."
"Ohh. I see."
"Why do you think martial artists obsess over breathing techniques—the art of absorption and release? It's to gather the dispersed qi that comes in with the air."
"Ah!"
Mok Gyeongun showed a fascinated expression at learning this basic principle of internal energy.
Apparently, martial arts weren't just about moving the body like ordinary physical combat.
Curious, Mok Gyeongun asked Cheongryeong:
"Then can the qi pulled in by the Ceremony of Attachment be gathered the same way using that absorption technique?"
"Absolutely not."
"Huh?"
"Even if you absorb someone else's qi using the Ceremony of Attachment, you can't make it your own."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You see, once qi has been cultivated through a sect's breathing technique, spiritual method, or energy-flow system, it takes on specific attributes."
"Attributes?"
"Yes, it gains a unique nature. And unless someone is trained or adapted to that attribute, their energy center won't be able to withstand it."
"So you mean…"
"Exactly. No matter how much of another's internal energy you absorb, it'll never truly become yours."
"Ahh. That's disappointing. I thought I'd found a shortcut to strengthening my qi quickly."
"Did you really think becoming a master would be that easy? Don't be discouraged, though. The potential uses of the Ceremony of Attachment are endless."
Mok Gyeongun looked puzzled and asked again:
"But if the absorbed qi disperses, isn't that pointless?"
"Even if it disperses, the Ceremony of Attachment allows you to manipulate it temporarily. For example, try focusing that dispersing energy into your fist."
"How do I do that?"
"Use energy flow—ah, forget it."
Cheongryeong sighed and took a puff from her long pipe, clearly frustrated.
Mok Gyeongun, who knew almost nothing about martial arts, was obviously trying her patience.
Blowing out a cloud of smoke, she muttered,
"Sigh… I can't believe I'm explaining this kind of thing."
"..."
Mok Gyeongun scratched his head silently.
"Tsk tsk. Let's forget about the complicated stuff like energy pathways and core techniques. What's important is mental imagery."
"Mental imagery?"
"Yes. If you can remember how the energy moved when you used the Ceremony of Attachment earlier, then focus on replicating that sensation in the area you want it to go."
Mental imagery (心想).
Cheongryeong said it casually, but it was actually a technique used by experts who had already reached a high level and were seeking further ascension.
Contemplating one's mind—that was mental imagery.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't something a complete novice in martial arts should even attempt.
But Mok Gyeongun was different from ordinary people.
'Extreme concentration.'
Cheongryeong believed he possessed that ability.
Whether he had martial talent or not was unclear—he hadn't even begun training—but his intense concentration was extraordinary.
That's why she encouraged him to try mental imagery.
'I wonder if he can really do it?'
He didn't even understand concepts like meridians or energy flow.
And yet, she was asking him to guide real energy with just mental focus—a first for her.
There was a risk that something could go wrong and he could suffer energy deviation, but since the qi wasn't anchored in his energy center and was naturally dispersing anyway, it was worth a try.
"Hmm."
Mok Kyung-un closed his eyes and focused on the dissipating energy.
He tried to recall the sensation of how the energy had flowed into his body when he first absorbed it through the Chak-ui Shik (Adhering Style).
And in his mind's eye, the blood vessels along his palm and wrist came into view.
'Naegwan... Onyu... Geukmun... Gongchoe... Susamni... Sohye... Hyeopbaek...'
Amazingly, Mok Kyung-un knew the pressure points and meridians.
Thanks to his studies in herbology and what he had learned from his grandfather, he could recall them even with his eyes closed.
That's why he was able to trace how the jingi (true energy) taken in by Chak-ui Shik had flowed through his body and filled his danjeon (energy center).
'Then, in reverse...'
The remaining warmth began to move along the pathways of Gihae, Eumgyo, Hwangyu, Geogweol, Gumi, Seongi, and Yeomcheon.
The little energy that remained reversed direction along Gisa and Hyeopbaek, returning to his wrist.
The energy that arrived at the Naegwan point gathered in his fist.
-Clench!
Mok Kyung-un tightened his fist.
He felt a surge of power.
'With this kind of strength…'
He approached the wall of the cave.
Then, driving the gathered warmth in his fist, he struck the wall.
-Boom! Crack!
In that moment, his fist embedded itself two knuckles deep into the cave wall, and cracks radiated from the point of impact.
'Ho...'
So this was the power of naegong (internal energy)?
-!?
Cheong-ryeong's eyes gleamed with surprise at the sight.
She hadn't expected him to pull it off so quickly.
It may be called simsang (mental imagery), but without knowing the routes of energy flow, moving naegong was nearly impossible.
And yet, he did it.
'...Just what is this kid?'
Cheong-ryeong was genuinely baffled.
She had seen many martial arts prodigies in her lifetime, but a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old who had never trained in martial arts with such instinct and talent was a first.
-Ha...
She couldn't help wondering what kind of master Mok Kyung-un might have become if he had started training from a young age.
At that moment, Mok Kyung-un turned to her and spoke.
"I think I understand now why people are obsessed with martial arts. If you master this, it becomes so much easier to kill someone."
Cheong-ryeong's lips twitched at his matter-of-fact words.
He understood the essence of mu (martial arts) perfectly.
All that talk about achieving enlightenment through martial arts was nonsense.
The core of martial arts was how efficiently one could kill.
Cheong-ryeong, with her long-stemmed pipe in her mouth and arms crossed, said,
"My first style, Chak-ui Shik, is just the foundation of the Pasa Palsik (Eight Styles of Annihilation). Even mastering just one style offers endless possibilities."
"Impressive. I'd really like to learn more of these infinite possibilities. Can you teach me more like you just did?"
At that, Cheong-ryeong's expression hardened.
She had never intended to teach him from the beginning.
But her curiosity had been piqued by his absurd concentration and innate talent, and she'd ended up speaking more than intended.
"Ha, I almost let myself get fooled by a mere mortal. Did you think you could trick me, you little punk?"
"Huh?"
"Do you think this exalted one would do you any favors? Forget it."
"…We're going to be stuck together anyway, wouldn't it be better to cooperate?"
"That won't be necessary."
She sharply turned her head away.
Watching her sudden change in attitude, Mok Kyung-un shook his head.
"Cheong-ryeong?"
-...
She ignored him completely.
There was nothing he could do.
He wasn't the type to plead or beg, so he didn't push further.
Instead, his curiosity shifted to the Pasa Palsik.
If Cheong-ryeong was to be believed, then there were seven more styles like Chak-ui Shik. But how could all of that be condensed into just thirty characters?
Whoever had created it must have been a true genius.
Still, no matter how brilliant Mok Kyung-un's talent, his knowledge of martial arts was too limited to deduce the other formulas from the thirty characters.
'What a shame.'
For now, he would have to be content with mastering Chak-ui Shik.
He wasn't fully accustomed to it yet, but with enough research, it seemed applicable in many ways.
With that thought, Mok Kyung-un turned to take care of the body of Jo Il-sang.
But then—
'!?'
He furrowed his brow and looked toward the area below his navel.
'What is this?'
When he still had Jo Il-sang's naegong within him, he hadn't noticed—but now that the internal energy had dispersed, there remained a cold sensation.
'Why is this still here?'
The naegong had definitely scattered; there shouldn't have been a trace left.
And yet, this chilling energy remained.
Though much smaller in amount than the internal energy he had absorbed, it was clearly gathered below his navel.
'Strange.'
Even Cheong-ryeong hadn't seemed aware of this cold energy.
He considered asking her but ultimately decided against it.
She wasn't likely to respond right now anyway.
'Figuring it out myself might be more interesting.'
This kind of challenge was actually enjoyable for him.
Mok Kyung-un smirked.
In an otherwise empty room lit by a single lantern—
-Clink!
A female warrior with an eye patch placed a pouch full of silver coins on the table.
She was Ho-aeng, the bodyguard of Lady Seok, the matriarch of Yeonmok Sword Manor.
"This is condolence money sent by the Lady."
"......"
"As I said earlier, if the task is completed as discussed, she will pay four hundred silver coins."
After saying that, she looked at the lantern on the table.
There was no response yet.
Perhaps it was because of the recent death of her colleague, Myo-shin.
She waited a moment longer before speaking again.
"If this is not enough—"
-Whoosh!
Even before she could finish her sentence—
The lantern suddenly went out.
Seeing this, Hoaeng swallowed hard, stood up, and walked outside.
The extinguished lantern was a signal that the request had been accepted.
There was no reason to stay any longer.
– Tatatak!
She stepped out briskly and looked up at the ramshackle building that looked like it could collapse any minute.
This was Guiyeonggak (Ghost Spirit Pavilion) in Mongseong, the base of the secret organization called Bangsa.
As always, she felt an eerie chill and unease whenever she came here.
Without delay, she mounted her horse.
Not long after she left, voices echoed from within Guiyeonggak.
"There's no mistake—it's a killing curse."
The first was the voice of an old man.
Then a middle-aged man responded:
"Yes, Lord Gakju."
"What do you think, Sak?"
A woman answered the question:
"If it is indeed a killing curse, then it's certain that Sister Myoshin was devoured by a ghoul. But what bothers me is the Third Young Master."
"I feel the same. The killing curse is fundamentally an act of cursing or invoking vengeful spirits. But you said that when the Third Young Master called out, the maid appeared. That means..."
"He's controlling a vengeful spirit?"
"Hmm. This is no ordinary matter."
The reason for their concern was this:
"If just calling a maid was enough to feed a killing curse, then the spirit involved must be at least of Hwangryeong (Yellow Spirit) level. Is it even possible to control such a spirit as a shikigami?"
Vengeful spirits cannot be used as shikigami.
That was an ironclad belief among Bangsa practitioners.
Spirits like chima-mangryang (monsters and ghosts) or pure spirits from virtuous beasts could be controlled as shikigami, but corrupted vengeful spirits must be exorcised or sealed.
"Vengeful spirits, by nature, cannot be controlled. It's possible the Third Young Master had his baek—his soul—stolen by the spirit."
– Bang!
"If that's the case, we can't leave him alone. Gakju, allow me."
"Sak, will you go?"
"Yes. I'll handle the Third Young Master and appease Myoshin's spirit as well."
With that, Lord Gakju gave his order:
"So be it. You, who command Guyo (犰狳) as a shikigami, should have no trouble exorcising this. Go."
"I accept your command."
With her reply, a beautiful woman with one white eye emerged from the darkness.
She naturally took the pouch of silver coins from the table.
– Thunk!
Guard Go Chan, still groggy from staying up all night on watch, brought a small brazier to Mok Gyeong-un's bedside.
He was tired and annoyed—just when he thought he might catch a bit of sleep, he got ordered to do something like this.
Go Chan asked with confusion:
"Why did you ask me to bring this?"
"I need to burn something."
"Burn something? You could've just told me to take care of it…"
"I want to make sure it's completely destroyed."
"What on earth are you burning…?!"
Go Chan's eyes widened.
What Mok Gyeong-un had pulled out was none other than—
[Yeonmok Seonggeom Gyeol (Burning Wood Sword Technique Manual)]
'It… it was real.'
So it was true that he learned the location of the secret manual from the spirit possessing the Sect Leader.
And now, that manual—exclusive to the sect leader—was in Mok Gyeong-un's hands.
Go Chan swallowed dryly, then frowned.
"Wait… you're not seriously going to burn that, are you?"
Mok Gyeong-un smiled gently.
"Yes, I am."
Startled, Go Chan panicked and tried to stop him.
"Burn it?! That's a secret manual only the sect leader is allowed to learn. How could you—"
"That's exactly why I must burn it."
– Rip!
With that, Mok Gyeong-un tore out the cover and first two pages, then tossed the rest of the manual into the brazier.
It all happened so quickly that Go Chan had no time to stop him.
– Fwoosh!
Go Chan stared at him in disbelief.
'This lunatic… does he even understand how valuable that manual is?'
Still dumbfounded, Go Chan heard Mok Gyeong-un speak casually:
"Why are you looking at me like that? I don't like your eyes right now."
"Sir… even if you're at an age where it's hard to learn martial arts, just having that manual means you could make use of it in some way—"
"That's why I have to burn it."
"But if you burn it, how will you—"
"I've got it right here."
Mok Gyeong-un tapped his own head with a smile.
'!?'
Go Chan's eyes widened in shock.
'Did… did he memorize the whole manual?'
'Then why didn't he just say that in the first place?'
He had been worried Mok was throwing away a priceless martial arts manual for no reason.
Just as Go Chan was about to respond, Mok pulled out the Yeonmok Hwaseumbup (Burning Wood Heart Method) manual and, like before, tore off the cover and first two pages, tossing the rest into the brazier.
– Fwoosh!
Completely confused, Go Chan asked:
"What… what the hell are you doing?"
Mok Gyeong-un handed him the remaining covers and first two pages of each manual.
"What are these for?"
"Take them to the Madam and the Second Young Master. Oh, in the morning."
"Huh?"
"Just deliver them. Don't say a word."
Go Chan furrowed his brow.
'What is this guy planning…?'
He couldn't make any sense of it.
But what choice did he have? His life was in Mok's hands—he had no choice but to obey.
"...Understood. Then, can I get some sleep until morning?"
"Go ahead."
"Thank you."
"Oh, one more thing—I killed the guard sent by the Second Young Master."
"..."
Go Chan was wide awake now.