Chapter 248

Hong Dao, the Dharma King, was sitting in the main hall, nodding off, when he suddenly opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw upon waking was the small back of someone standing motionless and gazing up at the Buddha statue.

“When did you get here?”

“About fifteen minutes ago, I suppose.”

“So, did you go see your proud Disciple?”

Jeok Cheongang answered in a gruff voice without turning around.

“What do you mean, Disciple? How many times do I have to tell you? He isn’t.”

“Oh, so you must be proud of him.”

“Ahem. Of course he should be able to manage at least that much. What’s so special about the Star-Array Grand Banquet’s preliminaries?”

“You never did anything like that yourself.”

“There was nothing like that in my day. Back then, even the orthodox factions fought each other, calling themselves the Southern Murim and Northern Murim.”

“That’s true.”

Hong Dao stretched. Cracks echoed from all over his body.

“Still, this is enough to make a ghost wail. I didn’t sense your presence at all. Have you gotten even stronger while I wasn’t looking?”

“Why would ghosts be crying? Buddha would be furious. The Abbot of Shaolin is dozing in the main hall like a sick chicken.”

“Don’t be so hard on me. We’re growing old together.”

Jeok Cheongang turned around and shouted.

“Who says I’m old? You should have kept up with your martial-arts training. Look at me. Don’t I look like I can stay spry for another ten years?”

Hong Dao looked Jeok Cheongang over carefully, then rolled his prayer beads between his fingers.

“Benefactor Jeok. May you be reborn in the Pure Land.”

“Look at this damn bald monk!”

Hong Dao let out a quiet laugh at his old friend’s reaction.

“I don’t know about ten years, but three years should be fine.”

“Was that the heavenly patterns or whatever telling you that?”

“Heavenly patterns? According to what this poor monk saw long ago, you should have died years ago.”

“What?”

Jeok Cheongang’s face suddenly hardened. He had read the sincerity in Hong Dao’s expression and manner.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because the flow changed.”

“The flow changed?”

“The heavens are vast, yet ever-changing. Just as your star was beginning to lose its light, a Morning Star rose in the northern lands.”

“……Jin Taekyung. So it was that boy.”

“The heavenly patterns told this poor monk that a Fire King stood in the Morning Star’s path. I’ve watched for the past year, and sure enough, it proved true. Your star was brighter than ever.”

The events of the past flashed through Jeok Cheongang’s mind.

He had grown old and suffered from infirmities of old age. He had begun searching for Jangcheon, whom he had sent away long ago, to settle his final affairs before he left this world.

He intended to personally deal with his former Disciple, who might still be committing evil somewhere in the world, and entrust the Fire Gate Clan’s future to the Sword Saint of Huashan.

And then…

I met him.

Infirmities of old age were both the curse of passing years and an illness of the heart.

When Jeok Cheongang was about to let go of the word life, a hand named Jin Taekyung reached out and caught it.

That was how Jeok Cheongang changed.

The more he watched that talkative, reckless boy, the more the ember lingering in a corner of his heart came back to life.

Longer. I want to live longer.

To do that, he had to escape the infirmities of old age that gnawed at his mind every moment.

Over the past year, he had immersed himself more deeply in martial arts. He learned while teaching, and gained insight through contemplation.

Jin Taekyung was not the only one who had grown in the Fire Gate Cavern. Jeok Cheongang had also taken a step forward.

“Three years…”

Jeok Cheongang’s low voice echoed through the main hall.

“Before long, I’ll turn those three years into ten. No, a hundred.”

Hong Dao burst into hearty laughter.

“That’s excessive greed. How long exactly do you intend to live?”

“I don’t know. I’ll somehow keep dragging myself along and live.”

“You’d have to undergo Bone Transformation about three times.”

“Damn it. Then I’ll just have to settle for ten years. So you hang on until then, too. You still need to show that you’re going strong.”

Hong Dao silently rolled his prayer beads.

“We are already waves that have flowed past. The Spear King, who was once so robust, and the Wave King, who was more spirited than anyone, have already left this world. The others have grown old enough, too. Someone whose whereabouts are unknown may already be dead.”

The Ten Kings was the name given to the ten Supreme Peak masters who had swept across the Murim during the Great Faction War.

Some of them had withered away with the passing years. Others had died at the hands of their enemies.

Though they were called the Ten Kings, there were only eight in reality, and they were now old enough to prepare for death.

Jeok Cheongang let out a groan and shouted.

“Cut the defeatist talk! What is this gloomy nonsense?”

But Hong Dao opened his mouth with a peaceful expression.

“Unnamed. I entrusted him with the Green Jade Buddha Staff last night.”

“……!”

“By the time he finishes his preparations in Arhat Cave and comes out, he should have grown into a suitable vessel. I’ve already chosen someone to serve as Abbot until then.”

“W-What did you say?”

Jeok Cheongang found himself stammering.

The Green Jade Buddha Staff was Shaolin’s sacred treasure, handed down for a thousand years. Hong Dao had not only entrusted such a treasure to his Disciple—he had even chosen the next Abbot.

The Hong Dao before Jeok Cheongang’s eyes looked exactly like a man preparing to lay down everything and leave.

“You bald monk. Are you, by any chance…”

Jeok Cheongang let the end of his sentence trail off, but what he meant to say was easy enough to guess.

A faint smile appeared around Hong Dao’s lips.

“This poor monk intends to step down after this Star-Array Grand Banquet. If the heavens allow it, I may cling to life for another year or so. But that will be all.”

“The heavenly patterns… Did they say that?”

“I need to rest. Please leave me for now.”

“Hong Dao!”

“Amitabha.”

Hong Dao picked up a wooden fish and began striking it. At the clear sound echoing through the main hall, Jeok Cheongang fell silent. Only after a long while did he finally turn and leave.

The three days of preliminary assessments had done their job admirably.

Of the more than fifty thousand applicants, only 1 percent—barely five hundred people—had earned the right to advance to the main event.

The organizers gathered them all in one place.

Of course, I was among them.

“Look over there. It’s Jin Taekyung, the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi.”

“What? That greenhorn? He looks younger than my youngest Junior Brother.”

“What does age matter? Martial talent is what counts. Still, he’s incredible. He reached this level after becoming the Fire King’s Disciple only a year ago…”

“For fuck’s sake. Is he supposed to have a Heavenly Martial Physique or something?”

I turned toward the voice. A man who looked to be in his early thirties flinched and quietly avoided my gaze.

He must have thought I was going to say something to him, but he had read me completely wrong.

The kid’s got good instincts.

The possibilities of the System were endless. My Muscles and Bones, which had once been so exceptional that Jeok Cheongang had called them a Heavenly Martial Physique, had developed even further during my training on Mount Jiuhua.

Eventually, even Jeok Cheongang had shaken his head again and again.

“Monster. How much higher are you planning to climb?”

“I have to see how far I can go.”

“If this old man had possessed even half the Muscles and Bones you have, there would have been Two Gods in the martial world by now instead of One God.”

“But you don’t have them.”

“……Add another hundred geun to the iron ball.”

I had suffered more for acting cocky, but in the end, even those experiences had helped me tremendously.

After all, effort—no, the System—never betrayed me.

The System paid out points and EXP with perfect precision, and my basic stats were absurdly high, so any martial art I used was several times more effective.

That was how I managed to defeat three of the Ten Dragons and Phoenixes, each said to be the best in their respective fields.

The Iron-Water Divine Dragon of the Yangtze River Channel League had even voluntarily withdrawn from the Star-Array Grand Banquet.

When I asked why he was going that far, he said that as long as I was there, he couldn’t win anyway, so he wanted to go home as quickly as possible.

I couldn’t decide whether to call him simple or smart, but he was definitely a cool guy.

On the other hand…

“Alas, the martial world’s sense of decency has fallen to the ground. How could such a frivolous and violent man gain power? Oh, heavens!”

“You bastard who’d mix rice with dog shit and eat it.”

“This is impossible. Are you saying this Young Master’s knowledge is inferior to that man’s martial arts? That cannot be. I must establish a new theory of mechanisms and formations.”

Those three were simply beyond saving.

I had been listening to their endless muttering from behind me when I spun around.

“Hey, you three idiots.”

Their muttering stopped dead at my call.

A moment later, the three idiots raised their heads sharply and expressed their anger one after another, each in his own way.

“Alas, an idiot? How vulgar.”

The Daoist wearing spotless white robes was Baek Woo, the Kunlun Cloud Dragon. I had sent him plummeting during the third assessment after stepping on his face.

I learned later that he had severe cleanliness issues and spent two shichen showering as soon as the assessment ended.

“I’ll stuff shit into your mouth, you bastard.”

Unlike Baek Woo, whose mere presence suggested cleanliness, this man reeked of piss and was a beggar to the bone.

Born and raised in the Beggars’ Sect, he had eventually risen to the position of Successor Beggar—the man who would one day lead the sect.

His name was Gung Gibang.

The so-called Beggar Prince, pure-blooded beggar, ultimate beggar.

In the fourth assessment, Gung Gibang had grabbed me by the back of the neck and been rewarded with a punch to the solar plexus.

“Idiot? Were you referring to this Young Master? If you could explain the intent behind those words—and if you happen to know the exact meaning of the word idiot—I would appreciate an explanation.”

The last one was Zhuge Gyun, the Divine Marvel Dragon of the Zhuge Clan.

He wore the neat clothes of a scholar and a tidy hero’s headband. Judging by his clothes alone, he looked like the most sane of the three.

That was only natural, considering he was wedged between a cleanliness-obsessed Daoist who couldn’t stand a single speck of dust on his clothes and a beggar who looked as though he would happily eat filth even if it splashed into his mouth.

But as I had guessed, he was no ordinary eccentric.

He had expressed considerable regret over losing in the mechanisms-and-formations assessment, the fifth one.

Look at this lineup…

A group more stacked than Manchester United’s squad under Sir Alex Ferguson.

Standing those three side by side made my breath catch and my eyes go dark. After taking a moment to steady my breathing, I opened my mouth.

“Everyone shut your mouths. Stop chattering and making a racket.”

“Alas, did you just say ‘shut your mouths’? Fellow Daoist Jin Taekyung, how can every word you speak be so vulgar?”

“A bastard who wouldn’t feel satisfied even after being rolled up in a mat, hung from a post, and beaten with a dog cudgel for forty-five days.”

“‘Shut your mouths. Stop chattering…’ Those aren’t terms commonly used in our family. I was personally curious, so could you write down some of the words you use often and give me a copy?”

“……”

I wanted to beat the crap out of all three of them.

Regretting that reality prevented me from doing so, I spoke to the three idiots.

“You three had better consider yourselves dead if we meet in a duel.”

“……!”

“……!”

“……!”

As expected, a cudgel was the best medicine for lunatics.

The three idiots had just clamped their mouths shut and begun exchanging glances when it happened.

Click. Click.

The sound of something hard striking the floor pierced everyone’s ears.

An old man soon appeared on the dais. One of his legs was a wooden prosthetic.

“Sorry for being late. As you can see, my leg’s in this state.”

He grinned, exposing yellow teeth, and introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Song Ho, the Thousand-Faced Fox.”