Defying the Heavens Scholar - Chapter 14

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Reversed Heaven, Scholar of the Way — Chapter 14

Chapter 14. The Kongdong School

As we labored up the sheer cliff face, two figures stood guard before a narrow passage ahead.
The stones beneath our feet were sharp-edged, and the wind cut thin and cold. One false step would have sent us plummeting into the void.

Jeong Yeon, leading the way, approached them swiftly and offered his respects.
After a brief exchange, the two Kongdong School disciples nodded, then drew a small pigeon from their robes.
They wrote something on paper, bound it to the bird’s leg, and sent it skyward.
As the pigeon disappeared beyond the cliff’s edge, Yun Seo glanced back at me and spoke.

“It seems my senior explained the matter fully. Shall we proceed?”

I followed Yun Seo carefully.

“I am An Seong, a second-generation disciple responsible for guarding this entrance.”
“I am An Hyeon.”

Moved by their courtesy, I bowed in return.

“I am Myo Jin, invited as a guest. The man on my back is my father.”
“We’ve heard the circumstances from Jeong Yeon. The matter is urgent, so please ascend without delay.”

The two stepped aside, and Jeong Yeon and Yun Seo exchanged another formal bow with their seniors before leading me forward.

“It seems everyone is occupied with preparations for the martial competition coming in a month’s time. Ordinarily, these two would escort you themselves, but given how pressed for time we all are, they’ve asked me to see you up.”
“I’m grateful for any assistance. We ask nothing more.”

As we climbed the narrow path, I ventured to ask something that had been puzzling me.

“There is something I’ve been curious about.”
“What troubles your mind?”

Jeong Yeon nodded, and my thoughts turned back to the two disciples at the gate.

“I understand that both of those guarding the entrance are second-generation disciples, yet neither wears the sect robes. Is there a reason for that?”

At the question, Jeong Yeon nodded and answered.

“The second-generation disciples do wear the robes, so our not wearing them may seem peculiar to you.”
“Peculiar? Every sect takes its own form. There are as many variations as there are schools. I was merely curious.”
“Your kindness in saying so is appreciated. In the wider world, there are times when people look down upon us, thinking we simply never received the robes.”

Yun Seo offered a slight smile and continued.

“In the Kongdong School, one must complete formal admission before our Sect Leader bestows a name upon us.”
“Then you are not yet formal disciples?”

Jeong Yeon let out a quiet laugh and added his words.

“The Kongdong School differs from other sects in this: we are founded upon the cultivation of the Way and the training of the heart. For this reason, not all who enter our gates become true Daoists.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Only through patience, perseverance, and the proof of one’s heart do we receive the robes.”

Understanding bloomed in my mind at those words.
The Martial World does not turn on swords alone. The way to survive, the way to be recognized—these differ from sect to sect.
Jeong Yeon quickened his pace ahead.

“Just a little higher, and the Inner Hall will come into view.”

The path to the Kongdong School was less a journey than an ascent.
Boulders rose like a staircase, and above them pavilions were stacked in tiers, leaning against one another.
Looking down, clouds struck first, and beneath them the world fell away, distance swallowing all landmarks.
A place carved by centuries of will — to live, to endure, to pursue the Way. That was the Kongdong School.
The wind chime sang.

Ding…… ding……

“Does that sound aid cultivation?”

At my question, Jeong Yeon’s smile deepened.

“All first-time visitors ask the same thing. But that’s not a chime — it’s the breath of the Kongdong School.”

Yun Seo added quietly.

“A wavering mind scatters qi and blood. Each time the wind sounds, it reminds us to gather ourselves again.”

At those words, my gaze lingered on Yun Seo for a moment.
As we continued, the stone path opened into a vast courtyard.
A Training Ground built on bare rock, its surface spread thin with sand.
Dozens of disciples were already there, blades crossed against one another.

Steel sang through the air.
Without a sound of footfall, only qi stretched the atmosphere taut.
A few of them glanced our way before returning to their blade work.
The Kongdong School’s gaze was as sharp as their steel, yet uncluttered by idle curiosity.

Yun Seo examined my back with careful attention.
It was the moment Gang No’s breath caught.
I did not slow my pace. Jeong Yeon, quickening slightly, spoke.

“Let us proceed to the Inner Hall.”

* * *

The Inner Hall was a great stone chamber carved within the Cliff itself.
From without it appeared a temple hall, but within lay only stone hollowed from living rock.
Subtle patterns were inscribed along each pillar, and the light was neither harsh nor dim.
Only what was necessary existed in that place of deliberate restraint.

The figure who received us was a Daoist of middle years, hair half-gray, eyes profound.

“Your disciples Jeong Yeon and Yun Seo pay respects to the Elder.”

The Daoist received their salutation with a solemn nod.

“An Seong has submitted an emergency petition. The matter concerns a life in peril — make haste.”

Jeong Yeon ventured carefully.

“Where should we establish ourselves, Elder……?”

The Elder’s gaze settled on Yun Seo.

“Follow the path along the back of the Cliff, and you will find a dwelling set apart. It was once used for drying medicinal herbs. I grant it to you. The Martial Competition will be held in one month, so a quiet place will serve you well.”
“We are grateful, Elder.”

It was swift and decisive.
They asked no reason. They made no conditions. They placed life above all else.
A reaction so natural it needed no explanation.

‘To think I’d receive such aid from the Kongdong School.’

I followed Yun Seo’s guidance to a residence hastily prepared for us.
True to the Elder’s word, the place was quiet.
Along one corner of a small courtyard, rows of unnamed medicinal herbs hung drying in the air, and a modest house stood alone in the wind. All that could be heard was the wind and the faint chime of bells.
Yun Seo spoke softly.

“We should examine his condition first.”

I laid Gang No down carefully.
When I shut the door, the outside sounds grew distant. The room held a thin layer of bitter herb-scent mingled with the aroma of aged wood.
Yun Seo knelt without hesitation.
Without pause, he grasped Gang No’s wrist and felt for his pulse.
Then he began removing the old man’s torn clothes to prepare for acupuncture.

“If you would, please leave the cloth over his eyes as it is.”
“May I ask the reason?”
“It’s a personal matter. I must ask your discretion.”

At my words, Yun Seo nodded. After a moment, his brow furrowed slightly.

“…… His meridians are tangled beyond simple measure.”

I swallowed instead of answering. That alone was enough.

“His inner power’s flow…… there are traces of it being severed once, then forcibly reconnected.”
“…”
“This is not normal circulation. Someone’s pushed through a twisted passage by brute force.”

My heart sank.
The master’s aura that had collided with us atop the Cliff remained intact within Gang No’s body.
Yun Seo spoke quietly.

“We must untangle his meridians. Clear what is blocked, separate what is knotted.”
“How would you do this?”
“The method I know is…… closer to possibility than certainty. It is not a guaranteed cure.”
“Even possibility is welcome.”

At my words, Yun Seo swallowed. A sign that he too was tense.
When he stepped outside briefly, he returned carrying an armful of Medical Texts, incense, and other items needed for treatment.
Yet Yun Seo did not perform any grand procedures. He lit no bright flames, burned no heavy incense.
He used no powerful medicines. Instead, a thin-brewed medicinal broth. Warm acupuncture needles placed below the lower dantian.
And hands that moved with each breath, descending. Each time Yun Seo’s palm shifted ever so slightly across Gang No’s abdomen, my eyes never wavered for an instant.

“Might I borrow a glance at the Medical Text you’re consulting?”
“Looking is no concern. Only, the book is quite difficult, so if you have questions, please ask me anytime.”
“I will. But I have a request.”
“What request is this?”

At the word ‘request,’ Yun Seo turned to face me.

“It is not a difficult favor. Only…… I wished to ask if I might read this book alone in a quiet place for a time.”

Since it was no great imposition, Yun Seo nodded.

“I need to find the necessary passages in the text as well…… but it shouldn’t take long.”
“It won’t take long.”

With permission granted, I carefully tucked the book against my chest and stepped outside.
After scouting for a suitable place, I steadied my breathing.
I stood atop a rocky outcrop behind the Residence, where no one ventured.

‘Inside the formation…… I have to find a way through, no matter what.’

* * *

After scanning the surroundings and confirming no one was near, I slowly traced a line on the ground with my finger.

Reverse Array.

The moment the final line closed, the world shifted.
With each gust of wind, I could draw two breaths instead of one.
Before a single note of sound could finish ringing, my thoughts had already passed beyond it.
Everything trembled slowly, cooled slowly, flowed slowly—a place suspended in deceleration.

Inside the Reverse Array, I opened the Medical Text.
At first, nothing stuck. Reading scattered my mind, and trying to memorize only pushed it further away.
The characters lay heavy on the page, each line a puzzle unto itself.

So I changed my approach.
I stopped forcing comprehension through reading. Instead, I read a passage and immediately felt into my own body.
Eyes closed, I rested my fingertips on my wrist. My pulse beat there—slow, thin, threads of rhythm threatening to snap.
I held my breath and waited, attuning myself to each moment the pulse grew rough, each moment it grew faint.

I traced the meaning of the Medical Text line by line and applied it to my own frame.
Connecting point to point, feeling the flow of Qi, grasping how and where it moved through the channels.
This much I had learned from the Medical Text back at Musim Cave.
The problem lay in what came next.

‘To untangle the knotted meridians, one must move with the faintest possible inner power…….’

But how faint? How exactly? What should it feel like?
The text offered no answer. Only the command to repeat until I understood.

‘Then there’s only one way.’

Tap.

I drove Internal Qi into my Qi and Blood with my own hand.

“Ugh……!”

As the meridian tangled, my arm began stiffening. The circulation of Internal Qi stuttered, and with it came waves of agony.

“And then…… I release!”

Some might call it self-harm. Others might call it barbaric.
But I was certain.
I had always found the path to survival when cornered at death’s threshold.

A mind pushed to extremity unlocks its cultivation.
The clotted reservoirs of inner power refused to yield easily. Sometimes the force proved stronger than expected, bearing down on the meridian; sometimes it came so faint it merely rebounded off the tangle, only to scatter.

‘Again…… again…… again…….’

After dozens of repetitions, the tangled meridians finally loosened, and the flow returned to its natural rhythm.
But whether this was genuine recovery or something else entirely remained unclear.

After that, I twisted my meridians dozens more times, and unwound them hundreds of times over.
Avoiding the vessels that would kill me instantly, I tested tangling every conceivable meridian.
Each twist and unwind accelerated the flow within my body.
The accelerated current drove my qi and blood forward with brutal force. My entire body ached under the pressure, yet I didn’t stop repeating the cycle.
Eventually, as I grew more accustomed to it—

‘It’s deepened.’

My qi flowed through my body like a thread possessed of will, moving exactly where I commanded it.
It went where I wished and gracefully avoided what I didn’t intend.
What had been scattered now settled. What had been rough grew fine. What had been urgent slowed.
It wasn’t merely that my cultivation had deepened—my inner power was beginning to acquire ‘weight.’
My internal qi, now split into fine strands, began to observe my body through the Heavenly Circulation pathways.

Tap.
Tap.

The sensation of resistance in the lastingly tangled meridian gradually faded away.
My arms grew light, and my breathing returned to its natural pace.
I remained kneeling, my back soaked with cold sweat.
But certainty had taken root. At this level… I could reach Gang No’s meridians.

When I withdrew the Reverse Array and returned to my residence, the world was moving far too quickly again.
The wind chattered, and the sounds of the landscape came in short bursts. At first, the speed was overwhelming.
Having grown accustomed to the slow time within the Reverse Array, the world seemed to crash down on me all at once.
But my breathing didn’t waver.

‘The Nameless Heart Method….’

Quietly, as if confirming something, I drew a thin thread of qi to my fingertips.
The ends of my fingers grew subtly warm, though my skin itself wasn’t hot.
Not a flame, but a heat like embers—a small, solid warmth lodged at a single point.
That small warmth became a current, traveling down my wrist, up my arm, and returning to my lower abdomen.
One circuit. Another. It didn’t break.

Before, when I circulated my qi once, it would creak and scatter somewhere along the path. Now the route was clear.
The circulation was so clean I surprised myself.
And in that moment, I felt an old weariness peel away from deep within my body.
My legs felt lighter, my shoulders grew unburdened, and the hollowness inside filled with a faint vitality.
Through the process of twisting and unwinding my meridians, the fire-circulation of the Nameless Heart Method had deepened further.
I wanted nothing more than to test several martial techniques I knew right there, to verify my progress.
But given where I was, I steadied my breathing and held back.

The moment I entered my residence, I carefully took Gang No’s wrist.
And with those fingertips I’d trained in the Reverse Array, this time layering qi into the touch, I felt for the path forward.

‘I won’t fix it all at once.’

Too swift a recovery invites suspicion. If a miracle blooms overnight, eyes turn toward it.
So one strand today. Another strand tomorrow. Loosen only what can be loosened; touch nothing that would destabilize.

Days passed. Then more days passed.
Gang No’s breathing grew visibly longer. Tangled places came undone, blockages opened.
Yet that one place—it would not move.

A severed meridian.

I’d forced the meridians back together, but it wasn’t something I could unravel with my fingertips.
I recalled the passage from the Medical Text again.

Untangling the blocked meridians is only the beginning. What revives a severed pathway is medicinal qi.

What I was doing wasn’t a cure—it was life extension. Sustaining his breath, tending to the pathway. Nothing more.
I didn’t have the strength to rebuild what had crumbled.

I remained motionless, my fingers still pressed to Gang No’s wrist.
The pulse beneath my touch was thin, his breath still clinging to life, barely continuous.

‘Without medicine… it’s impossible.’

Not some ordinary remedy, but something capable of healing even ancient wounds.
At minimum, it would need to be an elixir of the caliber our sect kept in reserve.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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