Chapter 517

“Have you been well, Benefactor?”

I almost didn’t recognize him. Unnamed had changed that much since I’d met him a year ago. His face, his manner of speaking, the air about him—everything felt unfamiliar.

And the reason he’d changed was probably…

It must be because of what happened that day, three months ago.

What was I supposed to say? I had a bitter taste in my mouth. I waited until Jung Ho and Hyuk Mujin had taken the others out of the room before I spoke.

“I haven’t been doing all that well myself. More has happened than I expected.”

Unnamed smiled faintly.

“So it seems. In fact, I only learned what had happened to you two days ago.”

No martial artist could have missed the events of the past three months. If Unnamed, who held an important position at Shaolin, had heard about them only two days ago, I could think of just one reason.

“You were in closed-door training.”

“Amitabha.¹ I was staying in Repentance Cave.”

“Repentance Cave? Does that mean…”

“What you’re thinking is correct. I asked to go there myself, so please don’t worry.”

The first character meant shame; the second, remorse. Repentance Cave was a place where sinners were confined.

What was he ashamed of? What did he feel he had to repent for? Perhaps it was his regret at failing to prevent his Master’s death. Unnamed had spent three months there, calling himself a sinner for failing to protect even the Green Jade Buddha Staff, the divine artifact of Shaolin his Master had entrusted to him before he died.

“In the darkness, where I couldn’t see an inch in front of me, I kept thinking.”

Unnamed ran a callused finger over his cheek. Much of his scar-covered face had turned a dark bluish-black.

It was the mark left by the Yin-Cold Qi of the enemy he had risked his life to stop three months ago. A burden he would never be free of.

“If only I’d been a little stronger, I might have protected my Master. I might have carried out his final request.”

But regret always came too late. A venerable monk respected by all had died unexpectedly. Someone had lost a close friend. And someone else, consumed by guilt at failing to carry out his Master’s final wishes, had gone into Repentance Cave.

Anyone would have felt the same.

I was no different. I didn’t even want to imagine how I would have felt if I’d failed to save Jeok Cheongang and had to let him go. Maybe I would have gone back to being F-rank Hunter Jin Taekyung, trapped in that same cycle of regret and despair.

But pain changes people, for better or worse. In Unnamed’s case, it had changed him for the better. His heart might have been broken, but at least his martial arts had grown stronger.

“This is just my opinion, but I doubt you spent all your time in Repentance Cave thinking.”

“Amitabha.¹ I owe it all to the grace of the Buddha and Shaolin.”

Unnamed pressed his palms together toward the sunlit window, then looked at me with calm eyes. There was a pure power in his gaze. A year ago, his body had been packed with solid muscle. Now he was as lean as an old tree. But the quiet aura flowing from him was on another level from before.

He’s broken through.

He had entered the supreme realm every martial artist dreamed of reaching. There was no doubt about it.

Seeing the awe in my eyes, Unnamed gave a small nod.

“Enlightenment alone wasn’t enough to heal a body in critical condition and reach a higher realm. I needed many other things. The Great Restoration Pill was one of them.”

“Ah.”

Shaolin’s Great Restoration Pill was among the finest elixirs in the world.

Right. With the Great Restoration Pill, it might have been possible.

The pill’s effects were one thing, but Unnamed was the Disciple whom Dharma King Hong Dao, a man capable of reading heavenly patterns, had personally brought in and raised with all his heart. He was a genius born with tremendous martial talent—not quite on Cheongpung’s level, perhaps, but still extraordinary. There was no doubt that he was worthy of the Great Restoration Pill.

He had reached the Supreme Peak realm while still in his thirties. That proved both his Master’s eye for talent and his own ability.

“Congratulations. I’ve heard the Great Restoration Pill is precious even by Shaolin’s standards.”

“That’s why I refused it so firmly. But my Senior Brother, the Abbot, gave it to me and told me not to ask questions. Apparently, my Master had said something to him about it several years ago. Perhaps… he knew this would happen.”

A faint smile touched Unnamed’s lips. He gazed into the distance for a moment, as though remembering his Master, then went on.

“Oh, my Senior Brother Abbot would also like to meet Benefactor Jin.”

“Your Senior Brother Abbot?”

I hadn’t heard who had succeeded Dharma King Hong Dao. Gung Gibang had said it would be one of the Dharma King’s direct Disciples, but one spectacular disaster after another had kept me too busy to think about it.

“I don’t believe you’ve met him. He’s my eldest Senior Brother in our lineage, and he became Abbot less than a month ago. It’s only natural that you wouldn’t know him.”

“Ah, I see.”

“He said he was sorry things had been so chaotic last time that he let you leave without even saying goodbye.”

“He doesn’t need to apologize. I was barely thinking straight myself.”

The Shaolin Bloodshed during the Star-Array Grand Banquet had been unprecedented, but I’d had to leave Henan for Sichuan within a day or two. Jeok Cheongang was in critical condition, and finding the Divine Physician couldn’t wait.

“Amitabha.¹ I was truly glad when I finally heard that Benefactor Jeok had made a full recovery. My Master must be watching over me from somewhere. I’m sure he was relieved to see his friend well again.”

“Ah, speaking of which, you must have met the Old— No, my Master already.”

“We spoke until you woke up. I nearly failed to recognize him at first.”

“Well, he has, uh… changed a little.”

“Yes. About as much as I have.”

“…Uh.”

What was I supposed to say to that?

While I hesitated over his sudden self-deprecating joke, Unnamed politely pressed his palms together.

“Amitabha.¹ That was a joke.”

“Oh. Ah. Right.”

“You didn’t find it amusing. I’ll refrain from making another.”

Please do rose to the tip of my tongue.

A joke like that was funny coming from someone who hadn’t suffered quite so much. Coming from Unnamed, it made the whole room turn solemn. But I didn’t have the courage to nod.

“…No, it was funny.”

“Amitabha.¹ Then I’ll continue.”

“…”

“That was the joke.”

Should I just crack his head open with a wooden fish?²

I stared at him, dumbfounded, then let out a quiet laugh. If he could make clumsy jokes like these, he’d come through it better than I’d feared.

I might not be able to comfort him, but I could at least listen to a few temple jokes that pushed the limits.

Anyway…

“Where are we? This doesn’t look like Shaolin Temple.”

Judging by the sun outside, I’d slept for about a full day, but I still had no idea where we were. I looked around again, and Unnamed explained.

“An inn near Mount Song. It’s been rented in the name of the Murim Alliance, so please stay and rest as long as you need.”

“The Murim Alliance.”

The name had always felt distant. Hearing Unnamed say it here in Henan made it suddenly real. I got out of bed and went to the window.

The first thing I saw was a peak of Mount Song rising in the distance as though it might pierce the sky. Buildings crowded the foot of the mountain, and all sorts of people filled the streets.

One martial artist had a narrow-bladed sword at his waist. Another carried a massive saber on his back without a scabbard. Others bore spears and twin axes…

“…”

All sorts of people, sure. But something was off.

They’re scary.

Unnamed gave a low laugh as I watched the martial artists everywhere I looked.

“Amitabha.¹ They’ve come from all across the land after hearing the news.”

“Even at a glance, there seem to be more of them than there were at the Star-Array Grand Banquet.”

“The Star-Array Grand Banquet was a festival for young prodigies. The founding of the Murim Alliance concerns everyone. People from both the orthodox and unorthodox factions are here, and quite a few little-known eccentrics have come out of seclusion as well.”

That made sense. The stakes were entirely different, so of course more people had come. If the Star-Array Grand Banquet was the Han River fireworks festival, the founding of the Murim Alliance was Jindotgae One.³ Unlike at the banquet, there were hardly any commoners in sight.

They can feel it too. They know what’s happening here.

As I thought that to myself, a group of Murim practitioners crossing the main road suddenly caught my eye. Their aura was unusual enough that they could not be mistaken for ordinary martial artists. They clearly belonged to one of the great prestigious factions.

Their clothes are strange, too. Who are they?

I didn’t need to ask Unnamed. Wrapped in furs despite the warm spring day and wearing leather armor unlike the other martial artists, they drew whispers wherever they went.

“Could they be…?”

“That’s right. The Murong Family.”

“My word. It’s well over a thousand li⁴ from Liaoning to Henan. They got here quickly.”

“They’re said to have the blood of horse-riding nomads for a reason. What luck. I never thought I’d see members of the Murong Family in my lifetime.”

It was my first time seeing the Murong Family, too. Shanxi Province, where the Jin Family of Taiyuan was located, was also considered a frontier region, but Liaoning lay far to the northeast beyond Hebei. It was not somewhere one could visit as casually as the neighborhood next door.

It was so far away that I’d heard members of the Murong Family rarely came to the Central Plains.

So that’s the Murong Family.

They were among the stronger of the Five Great Families, and I’d heard of their reputation until I was sick of it. Unlike other factions, they even maintained a cavalry unit, or so I’d been told. Maybe that was why every one of them had muscles like a horse.

The orthodox Murim, led by the Nine Sects and One Gang and the Five Great Families. It sounds like the unorthodox Murim has joined in, too. And on top of that, all the martial artists who belong nowhere at all…

People often called the United States a melting pot of races. Right now, Henan looked exactly like that to me. Granted, the people here were of the same or similar races, but every kind of martial artist I’d seldom get to see had gathered in one place.

Three days.

Three days from now, countless martial artists would gather beneath a single banner. United under the name of the Murim Alliance, they would raise their weapons and stand against Dark Heaven.

I was looking out at them and thinking just that when—

Boom!

A tremendous roar sounded from somewhere.