The neon lights of Wuhan's bustling night market cast a kaleidoscope of colors across the cobbled streets, the air thick with the scent of sizzling skewers, roasted chestnuts, and exotic spices. Seo Juwon adjusted his satchel, his keen eyes scanning the labyrinth of vendors and tourists. It was his first time in Hubei Province, and though he had traveled to many historical sites across Asia, the 25-year-old prodigious archaeologist couldn't shake the feeling that something about this place was different—charged, as if the very air hummed with an unseen force.
As an archaeologist, he had always chased the past, digging through ruins and deciphering forgotten scripts, but this time, the past seemed to be chasing him. The invitation to an exclusive conference on Zhang Sanfeng's lost legacy had been both cryptic and urgent. Rumors whispered of a hidden manuscript, one that detailed secrets of Taichi far beyond its known philosophy—secrets that, if real, could redefine martial arts as the world knew it. And the location of this discovery? Somewhere deep in the Daba mountain range, close to the revered Wudang Mountain.
Weaving through the lively crowd, Seo Juwon found himself drawn toward an old apothecary stall, its wooden structure weathered by time. An elderly man with piercing eyes and a long, wispy beard observed him closely before speaking in accented Korean, "You are not here just for sightseeing, are you, young scholar?"
Seo Juwon stiffened slightly. He had told no one of his true intentions, yet here, under the gaze of this mysterious vendor, he felt as if his very soul had been laid bare. "And what makes you say that?" he asked cautiously.
The old man chuckled, stirring a pot of fragrant herbal tea. "Because the mountain calls to those who seek the truth, and you... you have already heard its whispers, haven't you?"
The vendor gestured toward three small objects laid neatly on a silk cloth—a jade pendant, a worn-out scroll, and a small, unmarked pill bottle. "Humor me, young scholar," the old man said with a knowing smile. "Choose one."
Juwon hesitated, raising an eyebrow at the display. "Old man, you should know I can't afford to buy this stuff," he said with a smirk, before adding with a hint of self-awareness, "Archaeologists aren't exactly swimming in cash." "And what exactly am I choosing?"
"A piece of fate," the vendor replied cryptically. "And perhaps a bit of guidance for the journey ahead."
Skeptical but intrigued, Juwon reached out, his fingers hovering indecisively over the three items. Finally, he picked one.
The old man nodded approvingly and placed the chosen item in Juwon's palm before pressing the small pill bottle into his other hand. "Take this as well. You may not believe in such things now, but one day, you might be grateful you kept it."
Juwon exhaled, shaking his head as he pocketed the items. "Wait, old man, you're just giving this to me for free?" he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
The vendor let out a hearty laugh. "Consider it a gift, young scholar. Or perhaps an investment," he said, waving him off. "Now go on, you've lingered long enough. Freeloaders like you might scare away my paying customers!" He had no intention of taking an unknown pill, but for some reason, he also couldn't bring himself to throw it away.
As he stepped away from the stall, the night air carried a crisp breeze, and in the distance, beyond the glittering lights of Wuhan, the dark silhouette of the Daba mountain range loomed against the sky.
The old man watched him go, a faint smile playing on his lips. "The winds have begun to shift," he murmured to himself. "He does not yet see the path before him... but soon, the guardian himself will have no choice but to walk it. The path of the origin." The wind blew steadily in its direction, and for a brief moment, Juwon felt a strange sense of anticipation—as if something was waiting for him out there, just beyond the horizon.
Vol 1: Murim