Chapter 3: Do You Still Dare to Claim Wudang Has No Divine Arts?

“This time, I must succeed.”

In the early morning forests, the mist had yet to disperse completely, and dew blanketed the grass and leaves. A youth of sixteen or seventeen stood there, eyes full of resolve, gazing in the direction of Mount Wudang, his jaw clenched tight.

His name was Yun Chuan, and though he seemed an ordinary high school student, in truth he was a fanatic for martial arts—an avid enthusiast who devoured every swordplay film and television series, no matter how absurd or outlandish. So long as there were displays of martial prowess, he watched with relish.

What his friends and family found most difficult to accept, however, was his unwavering belief that martial arts truly existed. Otherwise, how could there be such intricate systems and so many diverse schools of internal and external skills?

One night, after his parents quarreled, he set out on a journey, running away from school in search of martial enlightenment.

It is said that all martial arts under heaven originate from Shaolin.

But Yun Chuan had no desire to become a monk, nor did he care for Buddhist disciplines. After much deliberation, he chose Mount Wudang instead. After all, the name of Zhang Sanfeng still carried great weight, and Tai Chi was renowned as a supreme art.

Although Mount Wudang was now a tourist destination, Yun Chuan was convinced that the true legacy of the Wudang Sect lay hidden behind the facade of the scenic site. All he needed was to find the right place, present his sincerity, and he would surely be accepted as a disciple.

Unfortunately, though he had discovered the sect behind the tourist site, he was not received, but chased away instead.

This was already his fifth attempt. If he failed this time, his hoarded New Year’s money would be exhausted.

If he failed, he would call his parents and go home.

Just as Yun Chuan prepared to ascend the mountain, a middle-aged Taoist suddenly leapt out, glaring furiously at him.

“You’re back again, aren’t you? Haven’t you had enough? I’ve told you a hundred times—there are no martial arts manuals at Wudang. That’s all movie magic! We are nothing more than ordinary Taoists devoted to the pursuit of the Way. How many times must I tell you?”

One could hardly blame the Taoist for losing his temper.

If you want to join the order, go through the proper channels—take the exams and become a novice. But instead, you think you can just show up and request apprenticeship, just like in those television dramas. Did you really think that just because Wudang became a scenic spot, you could come and go as you please?

“Master Bai, stop lying to me. If Wudang isn’t a place for cultivation, why won’t you let me see the rear courtyard?” Yun Chuan retorted stubbornly, his neck stiff with defiance.

The Taoist snorted with laughter. “Who do you think you are, that you can go wherever you please? Why don’t you try flying up to the heavens, you little brat? If you don’t have the brains for study, then drink six walnuts and grow some! We’re Taoists, not your parents.”

Yun Chuan was about to reply when his eyes suddenly went wide. Pointing excitedly toward a small peak in the distance, he shouted, “Look! You’re still trying to fool me. What’s that? What is that?”

The Taoist turned, startled, and his eyes widened as well.

What in the world?

The peak was only two or three hundred meters away. Though mist still shrouded the mountain, a ring of purple light was clearly visible. Within that glowing haze, a vague figure seemed to stand.

Had he gone mad, or was there truly a cultivator on Mount Wudang?

The Taoist’s mind buzzed in confusion.

He had lived and practiced on Wudang for over twenty years, and never before had he seen anything like this.

“I told you! I told you! There are masters on Mount Wudang, there are martial arts! That’s purple light—surely the Purple Cloud Divine Skill! Someone is absorbing the morning purple energy, cultivating internal strength!” Yun Chuan was trembling with excitement, his voice ringing out.

The Taoist came to his senses and snapped, “You think I haven’t watched ‘Swordsman’? What does the Purple Cloud Divine Skill have to do with Wudang?”

“Then it must be some Taoist marvel. Only Taoist martial arts could produce such a spectacle! I was right—Wudang truly holds miraculous arts,” Yun Chuan’s gaze was firmer than ever.

The Taoist was about to reply, but then froze. On that distant peak, the figure bathed in purple light suddenly stood up, then leapt from the mountaintop.

“Not good! The master is leaving! He must have noticed us!” Yun Chuan cried in alarm.

“Leave your nonsense—go save him!” the Taoist shouted, cursing as he dashed toward the scene.

Though he did not possess the martial skills of the movies, years of training had left the Taoist physically robust, and life in the mountains had made him sure-footed. He raced across the sloping paths as swiftly as on level ground.

Yun Chuan’s eyes gleamed.

Still claiming you have no martial arts? This is surely the famed Wudang Leaping Step! Though you haven’t mastered it enough to truly fly, it’s at least third-rate level.

Heart pounding, Yun Chuan followed in pursuit.

A master was right before his eyes—he could not afford to miss this chance.

On the little peak, the one who had leapt was Zhang Kai.

His internal energy had transformed into Purple Cloud True Qi, breaking through to a higher level in an instant—sixty years’ worth of inner strength was no trivial matter.

But with such sudden power, his body felt almost swollen with energy. Unable to restrain himself, he leapt unconsciously, soaring four or five meters high and three or four meters across.

Startled by his own actions, Zhang Kai was seized by panic.

Had he lost his mind? He had never practiced lightness skills—how could he dare leap about on mountaintops? If he fell, he would surely be crippled, if not killed.

Though flustered, his months of diligent training had not been in vain. His physical coordination was much improved. As he guided the Purple Cloud True Qi, his body seemed as light as a swallow—not crashing down like a heavy object, but drifting, the energy cushioning his descent.

This sensation made Zhang Kai’s eyes light up. As he landed, he tapped a branch with his foot, halting his fall and alighting gently on a slope.

Feeling solid ground beneath his feet, he was overjoyed.

The Purple Cloud Divine Skill was truly miraculous. Even without practicing lightness skills, it allowed him to move as though weightless. If he learned a proper skill like Running on Grass, then cliffs and precipices would be nothing!

The more he thought, the more exhilarated he became. Zhang Kai’s eyes shone as he leapt forward again.

This time, prepared, he landed atop a tree, borrowed its force, and propelled himself farther.

Though lacking the effortless grace of true lightness skills, the sensation of soaring through the air brought tears to his eyes.

Months of effort had not been wasted—he really was becoming extraordinary.

Bounding along, he soon descended the mountain, delighted, making his way back to his own secluded courtyard.

He preferred to train on the mountaintop because the Purple Cloud Divine Skill’s tradition said to absorb the morning purple energy, which might assist cultivation.

But with sixty years’ worth of inner strength converted, he was already brimming with energy—there was no need to seek purple energy from the dawn. Zhang Kai abandoned the idea of practicing on the peak, deciding instead to cultivate safely in his own quarters, thus reducing the risk of exposure.

An hour later, a young Taoist came to bring him breakfast and mentioned something that made Zhang Kai’s heart race.

Early that morning, a Taoist had spotted purple light swirling on the mountaintop, and someone had been seen leaping off a cliff. No body was found, and now the Wudang authorities had notified the police.

Could someone really have seen him?

Surely not—the morning was misty, and he had left quickly. If they’d recognized him, they would have come directly, not called the police.

Still, he must not take such risks again. Even if he needed to train outdoors, he would go deep into the mountains, far from prying eyes. Surely, then, no one could discover him.