The Wheel Turns (3)
“What do you think?”
“It’s excellent.”
“Haha, I’m glad it suits you.”
Gong Gong-daesa burst into hearty laughter. Seated before him was a burly monk in his mid-thirties, sipping tea calmly.
Admiration shone on Gong Gong-daesa’s face.
“Five years since you cast aside the position of Na-han Dang Leader and entered secluded meditation. Your efforts have truly borne fruit. You lack nothing as the next Rohan Hall Leader.”
The monk, Beom-o, shook his head.
“I have no interest in the Rohan Hall leadership. As long as I can pursue martial arts steadfastly, that’s enough for me.”
Gong Gong-daesa clicked his tongue.
“The Buddhist path draws no distinction between civil and martial pursuits. I had hoped your time in training would quiet the fierce warrior spirit within you, yet it seems even fiercer than before your seclusion.”
“Haha.”
Beom-o smiled faintly.
“Having devoted myself to the Buddha’s way, surely one day this warrior spirit of mine will soften under His compassion.”
“Tch, nonsense. Before leaning on the Dharma, you’d best rein in that fiery heart of yours first.”
“You’re right. I’m well aware of it.”
Gong Gong-daesa shook his head.
“Having inherited your master’s lineage, I can understand that rough temperament of yours. But conflict always breeds calamity. You’ll handle it wisely, I’m sure, but always strive to lower your head and look first to the lives of the suffering masses.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
After earning its fame as the sun of the martial world, Shaolin had thrown itself into countless disputes. It wasn’t out of worldly greed. Most conflicts arose to subdue evil, and thus Shaolin’s name had endured for a millennium.
Yet those trials had wrought great changes upon Shaolin as well. Once it stepped into the secular world, martial prowess became essential to resolve its turmoils. Forsaking defense against invaders or the taming of evil in the name of Buddha’s teachings would only bring suffering to more sentient beings.
That was the reason Na-han Dang, the symbol of Shaolin martial arts, had been born. And the Na-han Dang Leader represented Shaolin’s martial might.
Of course, there were plenty of warrior monks stronger than the Leader in actual skill. Yet the position held such weight because it embodied Shaolin’s very will.
From childhood, Beom-o had been blessed with prodigious martial talent, surpassing not only his peers but even his seniors’ realms. It was truly astonishing.
Shaolin’s arts transcended mere talent, rooted in profound understanding of the Buddhist path. Thus, Beom-o was no simple martial brute. With his brilliant intellect and deep grasp of the Dharma, he had become the repository of Shaolin’s hopes, preordained as the next Abbot.
But heaven does not grant all gifts to one man. While Beom-o possessed genius in Shaolin martial arts, his competitive spirit burned far too fiercely. That unquenchable fire had persisted with age, leading to the consensus that he should lead Na-han Dang before ascending to Abbot.
And now, emerging from five years of seclusion, Beom-o had amassed power sufficient for the role—but his fiery spirit remained unquenched.
“A warrior spirit can’t simply be tamed at will. Your talent is beyond question, but the world holds many who rival you, or even surpass you.”
Beom-o smiled faintly.
“Is that so?”
Gong Gong-daesa knew from that smile alone that Beom-o rejected his words.
The abbot clicked his tongue again.
“A warrior spirit is natural for any martial artist. But arrogance is another matter. Perhaps your five years of seclusion were not a success, but a failure.”
Beom-o’s expression shifted abruptly. His master abbot had often chided him for shallow Buddhist heart despite his understanding, but never like this.
Beom-o bowed his head.
“This disciple has been obtuse. I shall reflect on it.”
At least in his honesty, Beom-o matched anyone.
Gong Gong-daesa read the sincerity in his apology and nodded.
“Opponents to quell your warrior spirit abound in heaven and earth. But only you yourself can quell your arrogance. Heed that well.”
“I’ll keep it in mind, Abbot Master Uncle.”
“Good.”
The two continued their quiet conversation for some time.
“Ho.”
Beom-o’s eyes sharpened.
“This aura…?”
Gong Gong-daesa smacked his lips.
“Releasing his energy so brazenly without restraint. I know the man’s temperament well enough, but this is truly bold.”
“Who is it?”
“Can’t you sense it? That suffocating venom laced within this pure, razor-sharp edge?”
“Then…?!”
“Indeed. It seems the head of the Sichuan Dang Family has business with me. And…”
Gong Gong-daesa’s expression grew peculiar.
“What an odd pairing. The Dang Family head and the Myeol Sa Army Leader together?”
“Pardon?”
“You can’t sense it, it seems.”
“…?”
“Well, that’s understandable. His martial arts must have grown again since I last saw him. Truly remarkable. The Yeon Family head’s face must never leave his smile.”
“You mean the Yeon Family head?”
“The head of the Bi-san Yeon Family, the Judge Sword of Gangdong’s foremost clan. His eldest son is coming with the Dang head.”
Surprise flickered across Beom-o’s face.
“The Dang head isn’t coming alone?”
“He’s even arriving ahead of him.”
Beom-o was stunned. No matter how intense Dang Gwan’s presence, failing to detect another’s aura preceding it was shocking.
The Yeon Family head’s eldest son?
From the abbot’s words, he seemed young too. The Yeon head wasn’t yet fifty, so his eldest couldn’t be more than late twenties.
Yet how?!
Shaolin’s martial arts were absolute. The home of Mu Heo Daesa, the Fist God—one of the era’s Thirteen Heavenly Seats alongside the Sword Immortal, closest to supreme under heaven. Though Beom-o’s skills fell short of even the abbot’s feet, he had reached a considerable realm through orthodox Shaolin arts.
Yet he had sensed nothing.
Impossible!
Moments later.
“Abbot, the Dang Family head and Myeol Sa Army Leader request an audience. What shall I do?”
“Bring them in.”
“Understood.”
The door slid open with a rumble. Dang Gwan and Yeon Hojeong entered.
Gong Gong-daesa greeted them with a smile.
“Haha, come in, come in.”
Dang Gwan offered a brief salute.
“Forgive the unannounced visit.”
Even the lord of Sichuan bowed to decorum before Gong Gong-daesa. It wasn’t merely Shaolin’s prestige. Despite past clashes, the abbot was the real deal—one of the few in the Alliance Dang Gwan truly respected.
Yeon Hojeong bowed politely as well.
“Abbot.”
“It’s been a while, Yeon Commander.”
“Indeed.”
Genuine admiration lit Gong Gong-daesa’s face.
“Just how many more times do you intend to astonish us?”
“Pardon?”
“Before the Tang Ma Myeol Sa coalition marched, we crossed hands once. Your skills then were already exceptional. But now… you’ve advanced far beyond that.”
“You overpraise me.”
“No overpraise. To grow so in merely half a year… your talent is truly heaven-sent.”
Yeon Hojeong gave a wry smile.
“Just a minor insight. And my father’s guidance was immense.”
“Haha, the you I know is bold and unyielding by nature. Yet you shun complacency. That strictness toward yourself matches your restless spirit. A model for all martial artists under heaven.”
Gong Gong-daesa praised Yeon Hojeong more than necessary, hoping Beom-o, listening nearby, would take note.
“Enough words. Sit.”
“Very well.”
Dang Gwan and Yeon Hojeong sat opposite Gong Gong-daesa.
Even upon entering, they spared Beom-o not a glance. They sensed his strength but deemed him unworthy of sustained attention.
Beom-o’s eyes gleamed fiercely.
He had been shocked by their auras. But more irksome was their utter lack of interest in him.
…
An inexplicable emotion welled up. His fist clenched beneath his sleeve.
Gong Gong-daesa asked curiously,
“So, what brings you two to this monk’s humble abode without word?”
Dang Gwan glanced at Yeon Hojeong.
“This impudent brat insisted we come to your residence together.”
“Hm?”
“When I asked why, he said he’d explain upon arrival. I still don’t know why he seeks you.”
Gong Gong-daesa turned to Yeon Hojeong.
“Yeon Commander?”
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
“Abbot.”
“Speak.”
“I’ll be direct.”
“Go ahead.”
“Will you abstain from this year’s Alliance Leader election?”
Dang Gwan and Beom-o alike were startled.
Gong Gong-daesa smiled faintly.
“You raise a most delicate matter. Fitting of you, perhaps.”
“My apologies for the discourtesy without preamble.”
“Hahaha.”
The abbot stroked his beard. Renowned for his diamond-like equanimity, even he found Yeon Hojeong’s question weighty, not to be answered lightly.
“Before I reply, allow me one question in turn.”
“Of course.”
“I’ve heard three have declared candidacy. Naturally, no one’s shared their identities with me.”
“Most proper.”
“But I can predict. The last one is uncertain, though.”
“As I thought.”
Gong Gong-daesa eyed Dang Gwan.
“Are you backing the Dang Family head?”
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
“Not an official sponsor, but it seems I’ll ride the tide nonetheless.”
The implication was clear: Dang Gwan was a candidate. And though not his formal backer, Yeon Hojeong would act as one.
Gong Gong-daesa closed his eyes.
“I see. So the Yeon Family head backs the Dang Family head.”
“Your insight is unparalleled, Abbot.”
“Haha, hardly. Anyone watching the currents could deduce it.”
“Hearing it from you confirmed it. I wondered who the third was, but it’s not you.”
“Hahaha.”
What a sly fox.
Gong Gong-daesa, ever smiling, pressed on.
“I know now that the Yeon head backs the Dang head. In truth, once the election bell tolls, all will know. Knowing early changes nothing.”
“Perhaps, or perhaps not.”
“Thus, you ask if I’ll participate?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve no such intention.”
“As expected.”
“But why inquire?”
Yeon Hojeong’s face grew solemn.
“I was hoping for your aid in installing Dang Gwan as Vice Leader.”