ADLK 01

Prologue

The whole village was in an uproar.

It was because a joyous occasion had come to the Wang family estate, well-known in Cheonsu.

The Wang family’s second son was formally entering the Righteous Gate.

The Righteous Gate was an affiliated sect of the renowned Wudang Sect, and its master, Gwak Mu-hyeok, was famous as a chivalrous swordsman.

Since he had become a disciple of such a place, the Wang family’s future could only shine bright.

Because of this, many people had been coming and going from the Wang estate since morning.

Among them, those most eye-catching were the ones wearing Taoist robes.

They were disciples of the Righteous Gate.

Though they were not Taoist priests, they wore robes as a sign of respect for the Wudang Sect, their parent sect.

“Senior Brother, it’s noisy here.”

One disciple whispered as if he could not understand such a fuss.

All that boy had done was become a disciple. To call him even a named disciple would have been excessive. To the disciple speaking, he was nothing more than one among countless disciples.

“It’s because this is the countryside.”

The man addressed as Senior Brother replied calmly.

Unlike the younger disciple, the Senior Brother seemed used to such things.

At that moment, a middle-aged man sitting in front spoke up.

“Mind your words. This is a place of celebration.”

What he meant was that they shouldn’t spoil the mood for no reason.

At his words, both the man and the younger disciple lowered their heads.

“Forgive me, Martial Uncle.”

“Forgive me, Martial Uncle.”

With that, the middle-aged man closed his mouth.

Naturally, the two disciples became more cautious in their behavior.

Just then, a well-built man approached them.

He was the head of the Wang family estate.

“Honored priests, does the food suit your taste?”

“Yes. Thanks to you, we are having a fine meal.”

The middle-aged man bowed his head. Though they were no real Taoist priests, just wearing the robes, the three men did not mind.

To them, being called Taoists did not sound unpleasant.

Rather, it reminded them of their ties to Wudang, and they felt proud.

The Wang family head started to speak, then closed his mouth again.

The aura flowing from the group made it difficult to open his mouth lightly.

At that moment, something caught the eye of the younger disciple standing behind.

“Senior Brother, over there.”

A child was being dragged away by some grown men.

Another man who saw the sight also frowned.

But he did not bother to speak.

Instead, he shook his head toward his junior, meaning not to interfere.

It was something they had seen far too often.

It was not something outsiders should rashly meddle in.

Their brief exchange even reached the ears of those sitting in front.

“Look! It’s that cursed brat again—!”

The indignant Wang family head suddenly realized and quickly lowered his head.

To speak of a curse—that was not something to say lightly before the men in priest robes.

“M-my apologies. He’s just a beggar child in the village. He’s always causing trouble…”

After apologizing, the Wang family head signaled the men beside him.

It meant for them to get rid of the boy quickly.

The strong men behind him ran toward the child.

One of the men spoke in place of the middle-aged elder.

“Think nothing of it. It’s only natural for beggars to gather at a feast. Still, since this is a good day, I hope you won’t treat him too harshly.”

“Yes, yes. You’re right. We must not let dirt be thrown on such a day.”

The Wang family head bowed repeatedly.

Though the man was much younger than he, his attitude was extremely cautious.

To ordinary folk, martial artists were a fearful presence.

He then called another man and whispered something to him.

It was to scold the boy a little and then let him go, just as the man had said.

Only then did the man and his junior turn their eyes away.

A small disturbance, nothing more.

But unlike them, the middle-aged man still looked toward where the boy had gone.

‘Strange.’

The middle-aged man turned his head to the Wang family head.

“That child—what is his background?”

“Background? None to speak of. His mother abandoned him by the riverbank.”

An orphan. At those words, the man nodded.

As expected, it had been his own illusion.

And so, they forgot about the boy.

Outside the manor.

Four strong men kicked at the young child.

“You damn brat! How dare you come here!”

“Throwing dirt on a day of celebration!”

The boy curled up and endured the men’s kicks.

After being beaten for a while, a man came running from afar.

“The Lord says that’s enough, come back inside.”

Only then did the kicking stop.

Two of the men spat on the crouching child.

“Pteh. Wretched brat.”

And with that, the men left.

But even after they were gone, the boy did not move for a long time.

Only after the surroundings had quieted did he raise himself up.

He was covered all over in bruises and scabs.

It meant this was far from the first time.

Sitting on the ground, the boy glanced toward where the men had left and muttered.

“Damn Taoists.”

The boy was familiar with the Wang family’s second son.

He was the one who led in tormenting him.

For someone with such a temper to become a Taoist was laughable.

In the end, Taoist or not, they were all the same bastards.

“They’re no Taoists.”

“…!”

At the sudden voice, the boy flinched in shock.

He turned his head to see a middle-aged man standing there.

‘When did he—?’

Just moments ago he had checked that no one was there. That was why he had cursed.

Hair sticking out in all directions.

A body so firm it showed even beneath the clothes.

And an old iron sword at his waist.

‘A martial artist.’

When he realized the yellowed garment the man wore was a Taoist robe, the boy’s face turned pale.

“You needn’t see me that way. I’m no proper Taoist either. But tell me, why is that?”

“…Why, what?”

At his words, the boy felt relieved.

At least he realized the man did not mean to harm him.

“Why were you just taking a beating? You could have resisted, couldn’t you?”

It was nonsense.

How could a boy not even ten resist grown men?

Yet hearing the man’s words, the boy closed his mouth.

The man’s eyes were piercing through him.

There was no gain in lying.

Instinctively, he knew.

“…Because I’m used to pain.”

The boy spoke bluntly. Once he believed the man would not harm him, his attitude changed.

Defiant.

The man gave a dry chuckle, then jerked his chin as if to say “go on.”

“If I resist now, I’ll just get beaten worse later. Better to stay still until they’re satisfied.”

Hearing this, the man folded his arms, displeased.

“So you endure because you fear greater pain to come?”

“No. I told you—it’s because I’m used to pain.”

Different from before. Instead of answering, the boy pulled out what he had been clutching tightly.

Something he had not let go of even while being beaten.

A skewer of meat.

“So you can endure pain, but not hunger.”

The boy nodded.

If he resisted, they would be more wary, and stealing food would only become harder.

He glanced at the man, then shoved the skewer into his mouth.

It was to guard against the man from taking it from him.

The man laughed and stared at the boy.

“You’re a rebel.”

“…What’s that?”

“It means you’re a brat with no future.”

At his words, the boy wiped under his nose.

The grease on his hand smeared under his nose, leaving it shiny.

For some reason, he looked proud. The man gazed at him in disbelief.

But soon, he spoke with a serious gaze.

“From whom did you learn martial arts?”

He had seen the flow of internal energy in the boy’s body.

That was why he had taken interest in him.

A child with internal energy had endured a beating by grown men.

But at his question, the boy tilted his head.

“…What martial arts?”

He looked as though he knew nothing.

He wasn’t hiding anything.

“Hold out your hand.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the boy held out his hand.

Had he truly learned martial arts, he would have flinched. The man grasped the boy’s wrist and closed his eyes.

The boy shivered.

Something ticklish stirred through his body from his wrist.

It was not a pleasant feeling.

The boy glared resentfully at him until the man opened his eyes.

At once, the boy feigned innocence.

But that look did not fool the man.

“You’ve certainly never practiced circulation.”

He had not learned martial arts, yet internal energy flowed through his body.

It was not from inheritance or a wrongly taken elixir.

He was naturally drawing in energy.

Even now, at this very moment.

Because unlike others, his dantian was open.

The man’s expression grew grave.

‘An anomaly…’

A strange constitution.

The man murmured so.

With his qi awakened early, his talent would outshine others.

But it was not a good thing.

His body would not be able to contain the energy.

It was not unheard of in the past.

And all of those like him, without exception, had died young.

A fate of early death.

Trading talent for lifespan.

The man’s gaze turned back to the boy.

The boy’s expression grew just as grave.

“You must know your body is different from others.”

At his words, the boy nodded.

Precocious beyond his age—he could not be ignorant of it.

“Left as is, you will last no more than five years.”

At this sudden statement, the boy blinked.

“…What happens after five years?”

Instead of replying, the man tapped his neck.

It meant death.

He didn’t seem to be lying. To trick a beggar boy—his face was far too serious.

“With your dantian open, you can manipulate qi more freely than others. That’s why your talent surpasses theirs. Your overflowing qi will broaden your meridians, making you an ideal vessel for external arts. Shaolin would covet such a body.”

“…Shaolin.”

At that word, the boy swallowed dryly.

The rest was hard to grasp, but that word alone he understood.

Even he had heard the name of Shaolin.

“Of course, this too is a battle against time. As the years pass, the speed of accumulation will only increase. Unless your body grows enough to withstand it, the result will be the same. But there is one more way.”

The middle-aged man raised the corner of his mouth at the boy.

“Wudang.”

“…!”

The boy’s eyes quivered.

“The dantian is not singular. If Buddhism’s essence lies in self-mastery, Taoism’s essence lies in ascension. The study of the upper dantian. If you open the upper dantian, you will be able to contain all your qi.”

If his upper dantian opened, it would solve the boy’s problem.

But soon, disappointment flickered in his eyes.

Shaolin and Wudang.

Young though he was, he knew the weight of those names.

Even the thriving Wang family had opened their coffers just for a branch sect of Wudang.

They would not accept just anyone.

“There is one last way.”

At those words, the boy lifted his head again.

“Kunlun. In handling anomalies like you, not even Shaolin or Wudang can compare to them. Only these three under heaven could save you.”

The boy blinked.

Kunlun. Unlike Wudang or Shaolin, it was an unfamiliar name.

But he felt he’d heard it somewhere.

Soon, a memory came to him.

Martial artists passing through the village had said as much. Since it was so rare to see martial artists in a backwater town like this, it stuck with him.

And so—

“…Didn’t Kunlun fall?”

He asked, looking at the man.

That was certainly what they had said.

At the boy’s bold question, the man gave a short laugh.

“It has not fallen. For I am here.”

The man’s eyes flashed brilliantly.

At the same time, a presence as imposing as Mount Tai poured forth from the man.

No wind blew, yet his worn robe fluttered.

“Kunlun is me, and I am Kunlun.”

Words unbearably arrogant, yet they suited him well.

The man’s and the boy’s gazes met.

“Now, if you wish it, I will take you as a disciple. Will you become a disciple of Kunlun?”

The boy nodded.

He had no other choice to begin with.

And thus the boy became a disciple of Kunlun.