Chapter 231

“Amitabha.¹ E-excuse me, but may I pass through for a moment?”

The timid voice belonged to a young monk in shabby robes.

Clutching a large strand of prayer beads in one hand, he bowed repeatedly as he squeezed between the dark-path swordsmen.

“Pardon me, then. Amitabha, Amitabha…”

“Hey. Look at this guy.”

“Huh?”

The swordsmen stared in bewilderment at the monk who had appeared out of nowhere and begun fearlessly pushing through their ranks.

Several of them quickly came to their senses and tried to block him, only to be shoved helplessly aside.

“W-what the hell?”

“Damn. How is he so strong…?”

Skrrt! Thump!

No matter who challenged him, the result was the same. No one could stop him.

That was when I realized just how much muscle was hidden beneath the monk’s old, baggy robes.

Thick forearms. Bulging veins. At first glance, he seemed to have an average build, but underneath those robes, he was packed with dense, combat-ready muscle.

Damn, look at those muscles. That’s insane.

At that point, he looked like he should be wearing Under Armour instead of a monk’s robe.

While I marveled in silence, the monk finally made it through the dozens of dark-path swordsmen and wiped the sweat from his brow.

His face was taut with nerves.

“Phew…”

The hulking man wasn’t about to let that pass. His face had turned bright red, and his eyebrows kept twitching.

As he looked back and forth between the monk and me, apparently unsure which one of us to deal with first, I waved at him.

“Hey, take your time. I’ll wait.”

“…How considerate of you.”

Grind.

Gritting his teeth at me, the hulking man stepped in front of the monk.

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“This poor monk is…”

“Never mind.”

His sharp gaze swept over the monk from head to toe.

“You’re a monk?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t even have a precept seal on your forehead.”

A drop of sweat ran down the monk’s brow.

“My training has not yet progressed far enough for me to receive them.”

“Training, huh? What’s your Dharma name?”

“I have yet to receive one of those as well.”

“So you’re a monk with neither precept seals nor a Dharma name…”

The hulking man muttered under his breath, then let out a short laugh and turned to his subordinates.

“Just going by the packaging, he looks exactly like one of us. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, sir!”

“He looks like he’d be good at the job. We should take him in as our youngest.”

“Right?”

The hulking man roared with laughter, then abruptly went stone-faced and glared at the monk.

“Where did you come from?”

“…I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I know all about you, you bastard. I asked where you came from. The Poison Dragon Sect? Or the Black Blood Sect?”

“T-the Poison Dragon Sect? The Black Blood Sect? This poor monk comes from Shaolin.”

“What? Shaolin? Shaolin Temple on Mount Song?”

“Yes.”

Shaolin Temple?

Now this was getting interesting.

Even Jeok Cheongang, who had been ignoring everything happening behind him, turned to watch.

“Old Master, he says he’s from Shaolin Temple.”

“Be quiet. I’m deciding how to deal with an ill-mannered brat like you.”

“…”

That wasn’t good news.

My expression probably looked a lot like the monk’s right about now.

His face had fallen as he stared at the hulking man, who burst into thunderous laughter.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Shaolin Temple? You’re claiming to be from Shaolin Temple?”

“B-benefactor, why are you laughing?”

“Benefactor, my ass. Who the fuck is this mangy stray, crawling out of nowhere and spouting bullshit to my face?”

Boom!

The hulking man’s fist shattered the solid wall.

Unlike his subordinates, who were Second or Third Rate at best, he possessed enough martial prowess to pass himself off as a Peak master wherever he went.

Though he had only barely entered the realm.

“You little bastard… You think our Dongcheon Sect is a joke? Do I look that stupid to you?”

“Benefactor, you seem agitated. Please calm yourself. Settle your heart.”

“Settle my ass!”

Boom!

What remained of the wall crumbled to the floor.

The innkeeper watching from the back probably felt his heart crumble along with it.

“You don’t have the precept seals that should be carved into your forehead, you don’t have a Dharma name, and you look like the perfect dark-path thug, but you expect me to believe you’re a monk? You little shit. Why don’t you just tell me the Abbot of Shaolin is your master?”

“Gasp! How did you know?”

The young monk’s eyes widened.

That was the last straw for the hulking man.

“You son of a—!”

Whoosh!

A mace covered in sharp steel spikes hurtled toward the monk. It traced a clean, practiced arc worthy of an experienced First Rate master.

With a startled gasp, the monk raised the prayer beads in his hand.

Screams erupted from the crowd watching outside the inn.

“Eek!”

“Look out!”

But what they feared never happened.

Clang!

With a sharp metallic ring, something came raining down.

Astonishingly, the small, pointed objects raining down were the steel spikes that had covered the mace.

“…Huh?”

The hulking man stared at his mace in confusion.

Then the young monk shouted in a terrified voice,

“Benefactor, you started this!”

“W-wait!”

But the situation had already taken an unexpected turn.

Rattle-rattle-rattle!

The absurdly large prayer beads wrapped around the monk’s entire arm.

The beads threaded between his fingers gleamed with a strangely familiar sheen.

Wait. Could those be…

Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron?

The realization flashed through my mind just as a horrifying sound rang out.

Crack! Crunch!

A single punch shattered the mace and drove straight into the hulking man’s side.

“Guh!”

His mouth fell open from the pain, and blood poured from between his lips.

“W-wait!”

The hulking man cried out desperately, but his plea never reached his opponent.

Already white as a sheet, the young monk squeezed his eyes shut and shouted,

“Amitabha!”

Thud!

“Namu!”²

Crack!

“Avalokiteshvara!”³

Crunch!

“Amitabha, Amitabha, Amitabhaaa!”

Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam!

He hit him, broke him, then struck the places he had already hit again.

Every time the gleaming prayer beads shot forward, blood sprayed through the air.

Watching the scene, I muttered like I was groaning in pain.

“Oh, shit…”

That was the strongest reaction I could muster.

I had expected the monk to win from the moment he appeared, but I had never imagined he would be this insane.

“T-that…”

Jeok Cheongang had shot to his feet at some point. His mouth hung open.

“The Arhat Fist!”⁴

“Arhat? As in Shaolin’s Hundred and Eight Arhats?”

“Y-yes. That is definitely Shaolin martial arts.”

“…That is?”

I looked back.

The young monk’s eyes had half rolled back in his head as he delivered the finishing blow to the fallen man.

“Gate, gate, paragateeek!”⁵

Bam-bam-bam!

The scene was covered in brutal violence and blood. I wiped the blood from my cheek and barely managed to speak.

“…Old Master.”

“Speak.”

“Is that really Shaolin martial arts?”

“…Technically.”

“Then why can’t I feel even a trace of the Buddha’s compassion or anything like that?”

After a brief pause, Jeok Cheongang gave a short answer.

“At least he didn’t kill him.”

“…”

At this point, killing him seemed like it might actually be kinder.

But I swallowed the words before they could escape.

Clink, clink.

The prayer beads swung and rattled with every step.

A blood-drenched robe and a pair of unsteady eyes drew closer.

“Um, excuse me.”

“Yes?”

“Forgive me, but may I ask your name, Benefactor?”

“W-why?”

My voice trembled despite myself.

The young murderer—no, the young monk—edged closer with timid steps.

“Could you perhaps be a member of the Jin family…?”

“I’m sorry. You have me confused with someone else.”

“That is Jin Taekyung.”

When Jeok Cheongang cut in, I immediately changed my answer.

“That’s right. I was only joking. I didn’t offend you, did I?”

“Amitabha. Of course not.”

Fortunately, he didn’t seem upset.

Unlike me, who kept glancing uneasily at the prayer beads, he wore a joyful smile around his mouth.

If not for the drop of blood splattered beneath his chin, I might have thought, So this is what the smile of a Buddha looks like.

“But why were you looking for me?”

“This poor monk was ordered to bring the Master of Morning Star.”

The master of what?

Before I could ask again, Jeok Cheongang abruptly spoke.

“Do you know Hong Dao?”

“Yes. He is my master.”

“…Hah. That damned monk is as uncanny as ever. He can still see a thousand li⁶ without leaving his seat.”

“Then you must be the Fire King, Great Hero Jeok Cheongang.”

“Did your master tell you that too?”

The young monk silently bowed his head, and Jeok Cheongang let out a short laugh.

“No need for a lengthy explanation, then. Take us to Hong Dao.”

“Yes.”

As Yama⁷ disguised as a monk led the way, the crowd parted like the Red Sea.

Taking advantage of the renewed commotion, I asked Jeok Cheongang in a low voice,

“Old Master, who is Hong Dao?”

“The Abbot of Shaolin.”

That alone was surprising, but Jeok Cheongang wasn’t finished.

“In the Murim, they call him the Dharma King.”

“…”

Unnamed.

That was the Dharma name of the young monk who introduced himself as the Disciple of Dharma King Hong Dao.

Though, technically, it could hardly be called a Dharma name.

It literally meant he had no name.

“He hasn’t changed a bit, even in his old age. What kind of Dharma name is that to give a Disciple?”

Jeok Cheongang clicked his tongue, and Unnamed smiled sheepishly.

“My master gave it to me, so it is both my name and my Dharma name.”

“From what this old man can tell, you don’t seem to have been formally accepted as his Disciple. Do you have no regrets about that?”

“Is it not all Heaven’s will?”

Unnamed pointed toward the sky with a bright smile.

Jeok Cheongang shook his head.

“Even when choosing a Disciple, he really… How should I put this?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he continued,

“He chose an unusual one.”

“Hehe. Amitabha. Thank you.”

“…”

“…”

Don’t laugh. That wasn’t a compliment. And stop saying Amitabha.

Even now, whenever I closed my eyes, I could vividly see Unnamed drenched in blood.

When he smiled, he looked like a living Buddha. But the moment he slipped those prayer beads between his fingers, everything within ten meters⁸ turned into a living hell.

This bastard is the scariest one here.

From what I had heard during the half day we’d traveled together, he was so naturally introverted that once he snapped, he couldn’t control himself.

Jeok Cheongang tilted his head a few times before giving a vague nod, but I had a different opinion.

I even knew his exact diagnosis.

Anger-management disorder.

The man was a walking time bomb.

That was why I had been trying to stay behind Unnamed whenever possible.

A Peak master with anger-management disorder could strangle me with those Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron prayer beads.

Getting strangled with prayer beads… No. Absolutely not.

Fortunately, the journey from Luoyang to Mount Song didn’t take long.

The two were close to each other, and the roads were well maintained thanks to the many pilgrims who visited Shaolin Temple.

As we reached the foot of Mount Song, wooden buildings began to appear in the distance.

“Are we there?”

Jeok Cheongang shook his head.

“Not yet. We still have to climb halfway up Shaoshi Peak. Visitors without a specific purpose are only permitted to stay at the Guest Reception Hall.”

“You know this place well. Have you been here often?”

“I’ve stopped by often.”

“Oh.”

Well, the Abbot of Shaolin was his friend. I supposed it was only natural for him to know that much.

Jeok Cheongang dismounted and began climbing Shaoshi Peak. After a while, he abruptly spoke.

“You haven’t given up that lazy habit, I see. Do you still sleep five shichen⁹ a day?”

The next moment, an unexpected answer came from a broad, flat rock far above us.

It was a presence only a master of Jeok Cheongang’s caliber could have sensed.

“Hmm. Five shichen⁹. There was a time when I could sleep that long.”

The voice resembled the tolling of a bell in an ancient temple.

It was quiet yet weighty, with a deep resonance.

“Being the Abbot of Shaolin is a grave responsibility. I can no longer sleep as much as I used to.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course. It is a sense of responsibility that a carefree Fire Gate Sect Leader like you could never understand.”

Jeok Cheongang and Hong Dao spoke as casually as if they had seen each other only yesterday.

“So how many shichen⁹ do you sleep?”

“Hmm. Well, you see…”

Whoosh.

A black silhouette slowly descended from the broad, flat rock several dozen meters¹⁰ above us.

Very slowly, stepping on empty air as though it were solid ground, Dharma King Hong Dao landed and smiled like a child.

“Only about four shichen⁹.”

“You lazy bastard.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Fire King Jeok Cheongang’s mouth.