Heogongseobmul
Many people believe that to fall into deep thought, one must sit quietly in a secluded place.
But the truth is otherwise. Sit too still in silence, and the mind soon goes blank, the body nodding into sleep.
If one truly wishes to think deeply, the best way is to walk in silence, without speaking to anyone—just as Tang Mujin did, trailing behind the merchant caravan.
Lately, Mujin's thoughts had been consumed by martial arts.
Of the techniques he had learned, the one that drew his focus most was, without question, Yudogong .
Until recently, Mujin had neglected it for several reasons.
First of all, Yudogong was not stylish. Imagine showing martial arts to children in a village square—its inadequacy became plain.
"This is Jasimgum (Heart-Piercing Sword). No wasted flourishes, only the utmost simplicity aimed at the enemy's heart. With this sword art, I pierced through the hearts of dozens of martial men."
"This is Baekryeon Singwon (White Lotus Divine Fist). From afar it seems lofty and elegant, like a lotus in bloom. But step too close and you'll be swept into a flow of strikes like rushing water. Where did I learn it? Don't be surprised—it is a martial art of the renowned Shaolin Temple."
"This… is Yudogong. It means 'the art of fleeing like a monkey.' You circle around your opponent, flinging daggers or pebbles. No one struck by Yudogong ever failed to grow furious."
…Horrifying.
Beyond its laughable image, there were other issues. Unlike other martial arts, Yudogong lacked depth.
Other arts were difficult to learn but endlessly profound the deeper one delved. Yudogong was the opposite: intuitive to grasp, yet without deeper forms to unravel.
No wonder the Namgung Clan dismissed it as nothing more than a 杂技—a mere sideshow trick.
And yet, it had its advantages.
In the end, practicality was the core of martial arts.
Despite being the art he had trained in the shortest, Yudogong proved more effective than most.
Martial artists were accustomed to crossing swords, but not to defending against projectiles. Even assassins who specialized in throwing hidden weapons were trained to throw, not to deflect.
Moreover, Yudogong excelled in unexpected situations.
Had he not, when pursuing the black-clad man the other day, thought, If only I had one more dagger at hand? He had been lucky that the Heavenly King Needle Case fell within reach.
Now, with new eyes, Yudogong's flaws appeared as possibilities. The manual merely laid down the foundation of throwing techniques—the rest was for him to pioneer.
Naturally, his thoughts turned to the Heavenly King Needle Case.
What if I could mimic its power barehanded?
If he could fling poisoned needles with the same force, few martial men could stand against him.
Mujin fingered the needle case in his robes before putting it back. This was moving practice—he couldn't afford to waste the needles he had painstakingly crafted.
So he broke twigs from branches as he walked, throwing them like makeshift needles.
Unlike heavier throwing knives, the light twigs carried little weight, their force hard to control. All the more so for needles, finer and lighter still.
From here on, it's up to me. I'll forge my own martial art.
As he flung twig after twig, Namgung Myeong, walking beside him, finally took notice.
"Brother Jin. Is that Yudogong?"
"It is. How did you know?"
"I heard from the caravan master that you chose to learn Yudogong at the Martial Academy. I wondered if it held some hidden depth—so I studied it too."
Namgung broke a twig, snapped it shorter, and flicked it.
Even in the simple motion, the essence of Yudogong was evident—his proficiency matched Mujin's own.
"You must have practiced much. I thought you only cared for swordsmanship."
Myeong's face clouded.
"I don't have a sword anymore. These past months, this sort of trick is the only art I've been able to practice."
He threw with more force.
The small twig, barely the length of two finger joints, struck deep into the rear of a wagon. Mujin's eyes widened.
"How did you do that? The force was extraordinary."
"Oh, that? It's by applying the principle of Heogongseobmul ( 'Seizing Objects Through Empty Air')."
"Heogongseobmul?"
Mujin knew the name. He had seen Goiyi demonstrate it before: moving distant objects through inner force.
But Goiyi had never taught it, dismissing it as impractical. Difficult to master without immense skill, and nearly useless in combat.
"Even a master at the pinnacle of martial arts, I heard, can barely lift a teapot with Heogongseobmul."
"That's because a teapot is heavier than it looks, and the water sloshes, making balance difficult. But a twig like this? Far easier."
Myeong placed a twig on his palm, then slowly lowered his hand. The twig remained floating in midair.
He flicked his fingers—
the twig bobbed like an insect in flight, then settled neatly back into his palm.
Useless or not, it looked entertaining—and perfect for secret practice while traveling.
"Amazing. Could I learn it too?"
"There's no separate method. The principle is simple. Just as you naturally channel qi into a sword when gripping it, you strike the air itself and push qi into the twig. If you can sustain the flow after letting go, you can move it as though held in your hand."
"Could it lift something larger?"
Myeong shook his head.
"This is my limit. The heavier the object, the harder it becomes."
He placed a stone the size of a fist on his palm. It lifted barely an inch before toppling away.
"My insight is still shallow, but the possibilities are endless. Surely Remote Palm and even Sword-Control Technique are built upon the same principle."
"But what does Yudogong have to do with this? You threw the twig with your hand just now."
"I used Yudogong to throw it, while Heogongseobmul steadied its balance and added speed. Dagger or twig—if balanced, either can carry far greater force."
"Hm."
Mujin infused qi into a twig.
But unlike Myeong's casual demonstration, the twig refused to lift. It rolled weakly on his palm, trembled, then dropped to the ground.
Myeong chuckled.
"No need to rush. Time is plenty. Just practice as we walk—you'll grasp the sense eventually. I was no different when I first began with the caravan."
Their low conversation must have grated on Escort Meng, walking ahead. He spun around and barked:
"Oi, you bastards. What the hell are you whispering about? Shut your damn mouths!"
Ever since losing his purse, Escort Meng had been constantly on edge.
Other escorts, if robbed, could still borrow coin and get by. But Meng, lacking goodwill, found none willing to lend.
While others massaged their stiff legs and drank cups of rice wine, he stewed in a stinking room, choking down watery gruel and plain noodles. No wonder his temper was foul.
But taking it out on others was never wise—especially not on someone like Namgung Myeong, who never forgot a grudge.
Myeong lowered his voice further.
"Brother Jin. Watch closely. I'll show you the true use of Heogongseobmul."
When Namgung Myeong stretched out his right hand, a gnat buzzing nearby began to fly in an awkward pattern, circling in front of Escort Meng's eyes.
"Bah, now even some wretched gnat dares to pester me…"
Escort Meng reached out to swat it, but the gnat eluded his grasp again and again.
While Meng's attention was locked on the insect, Myeong's left hand brushed lightly through the air. At that very moment, the small jade bead tied to the chin-strap of Meng's bamboo hat slipped free and rolled across the ground.
With another deft use of Heogongseobmul ( "Seizing Objects Through Empty Air"), Myeong whisked the fallen bead into his sleeve. The jade wasn't of the finest quality, but more than enough to cover two men's worth of wine.
"Looks like tonight's feast will be plentiful."
Myeong sneered, his smile steeped in mischief.
***
A few days later, when Tang Mujin finally managed to make a twig hover in the air,
Namgung Myeong, sitting with him over supper, spoke with a faintly regretful look.
"These past days have been quite entertaining thanks to you, Brother Jin. But it seems we'll have to part ways soon."
"What?"
"I'll be leaving the caravan after today. I've already informed the others."
It was customary for a caravan master to give escorts and laborers a small bonus upon safe arrival. Since the destination was only three days away at most, Myeong had no reason to quit early.
"Brother Myeong, is something wrong?"
"You know well enough where this caravan is headed."
"Hui-ning… Ah, I see."
Near Huining in Anhui Province lay Tianzhu Mountain. And at its base stood none other than the Namgung Clan.
Myeong could wander anywhere else in the world, but not there. He would not risk being seen by his family working as a hired guard.
"Then where will you go?"
"I'll look for whatever work I can find. I'm good with horses, so wagon-driving would suit me. And if not, I can always join another northbound caravan. I'm strong, and I don't shy away from labor—I'll earn my keep just fine."
He spoke with surprising maturity. If Namgung Jincheon had seen him now, surely he would have been satisfied.
But Mujin felt a pang of regret at the thought of parting.
Namgung Myeong was of similar age, easy to talk to, and generous with advice on martial arts.
Mujin's techniques, while excellent each on their own, lacked proper structure. Goiyi was a great master, but not a meticulous teacher.
Myeong, on the other hand, had trained in a systematic martial tradition since childhood.
Whenever Mujin hit a wall in practice, Myeong could immediately pinpoint the reason and offer a clear solution.
Beyond that, forging ties with him was valuable in itself. Befriending the heir of a great clan—such a bond was bound to prove useful one day.
No… it isn't about weighing gains or losses.
After sharing days together, genuine affection had grown. That was what mattered most.
So Mujin said,
"Brother Myeong. Then why don't we travel together?"
"As I said, I won't be going to Huining."
"I don't need to go to Huining either. I'm no true merchant, and I've nothing to sell there."
"Didn't you have some reason for heading that way?"
"I only thought to follow the Yangtze upstream to reach my home. But there are plenty of places besides Huining to board a boat. And it's not as if you must linger in Anhui. Why not strike farther out together?"
A light came over Myeong's face. He too had endured loneliness and hardship.
Still, he didn't nod right away—he fell into thoughtful silence. His deliberation spoke of his maturity.
But Mujin knew the answer already. He could sense Myeong would agree.
And soon enough, his hunch proved true.