Chương 5: The Porcelain Doll

Mu-cheon stepped out of the mountain mist and pulled on the heavy iron handle of the Archives' main entrance. Despite his strength, the door – a massive slab of treated cypress, designed to keep the mountain's air out and the mountain's history in – resisted movement. The boy winced at the creaking noises it made as the pathway slowly ground open. Once inside, the Young Master gazed up through six intimidating stories of historical records.

Spiral staircases made of wrought iron wound up through a central atrium, branching off onto floors that each sagged under the weight of thousands of books and scrolls. His nose twitched once; the whole place smelled like dried resin. The young disciple began climbing his way towards Elder Gwak's study, located at the back of the fourth floor. When he got there, he hesitated for a moment at the threshold, before finally crossing over.

"How is the young Miss Han's training going?" the old man asked, not even bothering to look up from the ancient manual he was reading.

"So…you knew," Mu-cheon replied. The Archive Elder didn't answer, his eyes continuing to follow the line of characters his finger was tracing. The young man sighed.

"It's going…well. I taught her the first mnemonic of the Chuk-ap-gyeol. It only took her two weeks to be able to apply it." The book snapped shut, and Elder Gwak looked up.

"You did what?"

"We both know she'll never make it at the current rate! Her body is too weak, and she fatigues too easily. She needs to circulate Ki if she wants to survive the training regimen. But although she seems to be doing well, there are some…anomalies. And that's why I wanted to speak with you." The old man's eyes narrowed.

"Anomalies? What kind of anomalies?"

"When she puts the seal in place, the first principle seems to work well. Her body stabilizes, and the internal pressure supports her skeleton, as expected. But there's also this…quiet hum. I felt her pulse, and the Ki inside her seems to be wavering back and forth. I don't know how else to describe it." Mu-cheon frowned as he continued.

"And then, there are a few places where the flow of energy is strange. Especially between her wrist and forearm. It's almost like the pathway there is unusually narrow, and all the Ki can't fit through it, so some of it…bounces back? I'm honestly not sure what to make of it."

"Hmm," Elder Gwak replied, leaning back slightly. The redness in his face gradually lessened as his initial anger faded into curiosity.

"To these old ears, those sound like the markers of a rare physique. Could our Han Chae-ha have a special constitution? It would make for poetic justice, given her struggles." The elder stood up, crossed the floor to a nearby bookshelf, and started pulling down medical texts on the subject.

"Give me a few days, and I'll do some research. I'll let you know what I find."

"Tomorrow marks one month since your training began," Elder Jung bellowed, his voice ringing out across the plaza as if the sect possessed a second Great Bell.

"Which is why we will be holding an evaluation." The new disciples all looked at each other anxiously. Some even began to whisper, their discipline slipping. Such examinations had the potential to determine one's entire future at the sect. They were understandably nervous.

"The goal of this evaluation is not just to prove that you've surpassed your peers, but to prove you've surpassed yourself from a month ago. Show me, and the rest of the sect, how much you've grown. The Sect Leader will be watching, and there will be rewards for the top performers." Chae-ha's hand trembled slightly as she heard the news. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Straightening her back, the young girl raised her head and looked up defiantly at the heavens.

Things would be different this time; they had to be. This was the culmination of everything she'd been working towards. It was time to finally prove – to the world and to herself – that she belonged here. And then, a new chapter of her life would finally begin.

"Let's see, let's see," the Archive Elder mused, his finger tracing over the yellowed pages of a book titled The Encyclopedia of Great Frames.

"Anything promising in this one?" He continued to mutter to himself as he scanned through the entries." Gang-cheol-shin-che – the Solid Iron Body? Ridiculous. The girl is as fragile as a flower!" He flipped the page with a snap." Bul-gul-geum-gol – the Indomitable Golden Skeleton? Nonsense. If she had golden bones, she wouldn't have been limping across the plaza for a week." His finger continued down the list, skipping over entries half a dozen at a time." Sun-yang-hwa-dan – the Core of Pure Flame? Obviously not!

Her body gets as cold as a mountain stream…" He dropped the weighty tome onto his desk, the thud echoing through the silent Archives, before snatching a thinner, more specialized scroll from a nearby lacquered tube." Cheon-jong-che – the Heavenly Bell Physique?" He let out a dry, amused snort as he scanned the text.

"She's humming constantly, not ringing aloud on impact. What else could it be?" He moved on to consider other options." Chwi-ok-gyeong – the Fragile Jade Veins..." The Northern Plaza felt smaller than usual, as if hemmed in by the weight of expectations. The sun hung low in the sky, a blinding disk floating just above the obsidian dais on the plaza's eastern side. It cast a harsh glare across the entire scene, highlighting the thirty new disciples as they stood in rigid formation.

Atop the dais, the Tai-shan Sect Leader, Kang Hyeon-je, sat perfectly still. Threads of Thousand-Year Dark Iron were couched into the fabric of his oxblood silks, tracing jagged paths out from the hems. His calm expression stood in stark contrast to the violent embroidery, a disparity matched only by the shocking streak of white that ran through his jet-black hair. The Sect Leader gazed out over the gathering, his enormous hands resting on the spine of a Cham-ma-do.

Mu-cheon stood beside him in his own oxblood silks, but the young disciple's presence struggled to even register. Despite being seated, the father was still taller than his son. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. No disciple dared to make a sound. This man was the One Who Guards the Path: the living embodiment of their ancestral oath, and the latest inheritor of Tang Taizong's will. His presence at this exam served as a reminder, a promise, and a threat.

Elder Jung stepped up to the edge of the dais, bowed, and awaited instruction. Slowly, the Sect Leader began to rise. His towering form unfolded, and as it did his body moved directly into the path of the sun. As the disciples looked on in awe, the blinding glare of the fiery orb vanished completely, obscured behind the mass of his chest. His imposing figure darkened, and his shape became outlined by a brilliant corona – a thin line of pure white light that collapsed at the edges into a kaleidoscope of color.

The world plunged into a false twilight as his shadow spread. The temperature dropped. Even the sound of birdsong stopped, as if silenced by the dominating presence of a man who had just eclipsed the sun.

"Begin," Hyeon-je whispered. Despite its softness, his command sliced through the mountain air and resonated in every ear. Elder Jung bowed to the shadow on the dais, then turned to the ranks. He descended the stairs, his boots echoing as they struck against the granite. He moved towards the first row of boys, his oxblood robes swirling around him.

"The test is simple!" Elder Jung boomed, his voice echoing off the surrounding peaks.

"The Jeong-am-gi is all about stability. I will apply pressure on each of you, one by one. If you move – you fail." The elder began moving through the rows with deliberate purpose. He reached the first boy, a sturdy youth with thick thighs and broad shoulders. Placing a heavy palm on the disciple's chest, he began to push outwards with a slowly escalating force. The boy's face quickly turned purple, his heels sliding as they scraped against the tile. Ultimately, he wasn't able to withstand the pressure.

He stumbled backwards three steps.

"Fail," the Training Elder barked. The man moved on without looking back. His next target was a tall, lithe disciple who had been a favorite in their morning drills. As the pressure on him built, the child made the mistake of trying to lean into the force. Elder Jung simply stopped applying it, and the boy immediately stumbled forward.

"The point of the Jeong-am-gi is to anchor yourself to the ground. Fail." A few managed to endure. One boy, his legs shaking like leaves, somehow kept himself rooted even as his soles slid slightly on the tiles, leaving short, bloody streaks on the stone. Elder Jung gave a curt nod of approval before moving on.

"Pass," he thundered. The tension in the plaza was thick. Those who succeeded did so by the slimmest of margins. The majority failed. Finally, the Training Elder reached the third row, where he stopped in front of the smallest figure there. Elder Jung's expression was unreadable as he looked down at her. The man had watched her struggle for a month; he was probably expecting to fail her immediately.

"Anchor yourself, girl," Elder Jung said, his voice unusually quiet. Chae-ha felt the temperature drop once more as the Training Elder's shadow engulfed her. She sank low into the Jeong-am-gi as instructed, trying to control her anxiety. The young girl breathed deeply, focusing her mind on the shape of the seal she would soon create. The more she concentrated, the more her heartbeat slowed, and the more her confidence returned. Ready to start the test, Elder Jung placed his palm on Chae-ha's chest."

Chwi-ok-gyeong – the Fragile Jade Veins," Elder Gwak read aloud.

"A rare, congenital physique characterized by inelastic primary pathways. Unlike standard meridians, which possess the tensile strength to dilate under Ki circulation, the Chwi-ok-gyeong remain rigid. Instead of expanding, they vibrate when subjected to pressure. Excessive vibration is known to cause the walls of the meridians to…shatter…" His breath caught in his throat as he continued reading.

"Symptoms: Difficulty circulating Ki, especially at the wrist between the Taiyuan and Neiguan points; chronic fatigue; shortness of breath; and visible trembling of the… hands?" Half a dozen images of the young girl's constantly trembling hands flashed in front of his eyes. The book slipped from his grasp and tumbled onto the floor. A moment later, Elder Gwak burst out of the Archives, making a mad dash towards the Northern Plaza. Elder Jung began to push, and Chae-ha could feel her base beginning to slip.

She invoked the first mnemonic of the Chuk-ap-gyeol, and her stability immediately improved. The familiar quiet hum echoed through her bones. As the force being put on her continued to increase, so did her reliance on the technique. The young girl gritted her teeth in determination. Today, she was not going to fall. Nothing else mattered. This time, she would outlast them all. She would prove, once and for all, that she could do this. That she belonged here. Breathing deeply, Chae-ha ratcheted up the pressure.

Elder Jung's brow furrowed slightly.

"What's that noise…?" The low hum evolved into a soft thrumming, and from there into a high-pitched whine. And then, with a sudden, loud crack, her meridians shattered like tempered glass. All at once, the pressurized energy inside of them was released into the soft flesh of her body – with devastating consequence. Chae-ha was flung backwards and into the air as all resistance to Elder Jung's pushing abruptly disappeared. As she flew, her body began to break. Blood dripped from her nose and ears.

Dark lines appeared on her skin, starting from her wrists and racing all over her body like cracks growing on a porcelain doll. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was the world around her being dyed red, as the capillaries in her eyes burst open. A blur of oxblood, obsidian, and gold streaked across the plaza. Before her limp body could impact the stone tiles, Elder Gwak caught her, sliding and rolling across the ground as he struggled to contain his momentum.

They eventually skidded to a stop, her form cradled in his arms. But his arrival was two breaths too late. Desperate to save her life, the Archive Elder flipped her over and tried to perform Ki injection in hopes of stabilizing her. Meanwhile, Elder Jung kept staring at his hand in horror, before finally screaming for the medical team. Several days later, Chae-ha woke up in the medical bay. She was covered in bandages, with dull pain echoing through every corner of her body.

The medical staff buzzed around her excitedly as they noticed her return to consciousness. A messenger was sent, and after a few ke, Elder Gwak strode into the room. He took a seat at her bedside and put his hand on hers.

"What happened?" Chae-ha asked, knowing the answer could not possibly be good.

"Your meridians shattered," he replied, in typical blunt style.

"You have a…unique…constitution, and it could not handle the pressure from the Chuk-ap-gyeol. The condition is called Chwi-ok-gyeong - the Fragile Jade Veins." For the first time since she had known him, a crack appeared in the elder's matter-of-fact persona.

"I am to blame for this, Chae-ha. I had so many opportunities to prevent it, but I failed in my duties as an elder – and I failed you, personally."

"What do you mean? How would you…" she protested, weakly. He looked down.

"Your constitution was never a good fit for the Training Hall; I could have, and should have, pressured you more strongly to join the Archives. I could have stopped you when I first heard you were learning the Chuk-ap-gyeol, but I did not. I was too invested in seeing you succeed. Failing that, I could have diagnosed your condition more quickly. But I failed there, as well."

"How long until I can…return to training?"

"Chae-ha…" Elder Gwak began, hesitating.

"You will not be returning to training. Your meridians are gone. You can no longer circulate Ki, and as a result the sect can no longer keep you as a disciple. I have asked for you to be transferred to the Archives, where you will serve as a civilian clerk moving forwards." Slow horror crept across Chae-ha's face. Tears began to build behind her eyes. But for once, in a moment of intense emotion, her hand did not tremble.

"Please leave," she whispered, turning on her side.

"I'd like… to be alone for a while." The elder departed to give her some privacy. For the rest of the night, she lay curled up on the medical bed, her body wracking with sobs. She clutched the silver hairpin to her chest, as she cursed the cruel world that had taken everything from her – even her hopes for revenge. Outside, the mountain began to weep. A cold, needle-like rain drifted down from the peaks, piercing the mists and washing over the sect as if trying to cleanse it of sin.

Mu-cheon sat on the ground with his back pressed against the rough stone foundation of the medical wing, sheltered beneath the overhang of Chae-ha's window. The eaves offered little protection; the wind whipped the rain against his face and body, soaking his silks until they darkened into the color of dried blood. The young man didn't move as the muffled sounds of her grief filtered through the thin lattice. He didn't react as a cart passed by, hauling cadavers for the medical students to practice on.

He just stayed there – his head bowed, his fists clenched – and leaned against the cold masonry. As if mocking him, the wind rattled the small string of copper coins tucked into his belt.

"I'm sorry, little sister," he whispered, the words lost to the gale almost as soon as they left his lips.

"I'm so sorry." He stayed there long after the sobbing inside ceased, a silent sentinel standing watch over her shattered dreams.