Chapter 237
Chapter 237
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 237
Chapter Title: 4th Part. The Small Forest Where the Giant Lives in Seclusion, Shaolin Temple (3)
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Choyeonyun’s martial brothers, Bang Jinbo, Muk Ilgwang, and the others withdrew, leaving only Damho and Gwanghae in the room.
After a long hesitation, Gwanghae finally spoke.
“Dam… Great Hero.”
“Speak!”
“The truth is, I invited Great Hero Dam to Shaolin because there’s someone here who desperately wishes to meet you.”
“Who is it?”
“You’ll know once you meet them.”
Gwanghae chose his words with extreme care. His cautious demeanor was evident as he gazed at Damho with earnest eyes.
Damho rose from his seat.
“Let’s go.”
There was no reason to hesitate.
“Please follow me.”
Gwanghae took the lead. Avoiding the eyes of others, he guided Damho deep into the heart of the Shaolin Temple grounds.
The silent expanse, devoid of even a bird’s chirp, exuded an aura of profound reverence. It felt as though this place existed in a world apart from the rest.
Gwanghae glanced back at Damho following him and said,
“This is Shaolin’s forbidden ground. Entry is strictly prohibited except for a select few with permission. Great Hero Dam’s presence here is a secret so profound even the sect leader is unaware. Only I, your guide, know of it.”
The forbidden ground was so secretive that only elders and above even knew of its existence. Among them, only a tiny handful had the qualification to enter. The rest, even if aware, were forbidden from approaching.
Damho’s eyes darkened deeply.
From within the forbidden depths came a profound breath.
Exhaling and inhaling—that sequence is called respiration. The greater the master, the longer and deeper the interval between exhalation and inhalation.
Damho had encountered countless masters in his time, some who had stepped into the absolute realm. Their breaths were unbelievably deep and vast. Yet the respiration emanating from the forbidden ground now surpassed even them.
It was as if a sea turtle that had lived for centuries was breathing—the gap between exhale and inhale was that immense, yet perfectly stable.
Unconsciously, Damho clenched his fist tight.
That was the moment.
Thung!
Like a water droplet falling onto a still pond, the opponent’s breath shifted. Just as Damho had sensed his presence, so too had he become aware of Damho’s.
The air changed.
Gwanghae, oblivious to this, pressed onward blindly, but Damho was different.
The surrounding air clung stickily to his skin. The humid atmosphere pressed against him like a living entity, caressing oppressively.
In that instant, the Dark Cloud Heart Technique activated on its own. The inner energy stirred by the technique swirled through Damho’s body, instantly incinerating the encroaching humid air.
At that moment, Gwanghae sensed something amiss and turned back. But Damho followed with his usual impassive face, so Gwanghae couldn’t even guess what had just transpired.
Though Gwanghae was a renowned master as an elder of Shaolin, he was no match for Damho or the unknown figure within the forbidden ground.
Gwanghae tilted his head and continued inward. Damho followed. The deeper they went, the more vividly tangible the opponent’s breath became.
“We’re here, Great Hero Dam.”
They had finally reached their destination.
Gwanghae stopped in a small clearing at the forest’s heart. At its center stood a shabby thatched hut, crudely pieced together from wood, as if it might collapse at any moment. From within wafted a faint incense of immortals.
Perhaps because of it, rabbits, deer, and small mountain birds gathered cozily around the hut. But the moment Damho appeared, the animals fled into the woods in a panic.
Gwanghae approached the hut cautiously and called out.
“Martial Granduncle! It’s Gwanghae. I’ve brought Great Hero Dam.”
“Come in.”
With the response, the door opened on its own. Damho and Gwanghae entered the hut.
Inside sat an old monk whose age was impossible to guess. Deep wrinkles like ancient tree bark, sagging flesh, a white beard covering his chest, and tattered gray robes worn to rags—all bespoke countless years spent in this place.
The old monk’s gaze turned to Damho.
“Heh heh! We finally meet.”
“Martial Granduncle! This man is…”
“I know. We’ve already spoken. Isn’t that right?”
Through the folds of deeply creased skin, the old monk’s eyes gleamed with clear light. In those pure, deep-well eyes, Damho’s reflection formed.
Damho nodded. The old monk smiled brightly.
“See?”
“When?”
Gwanghae looked back and forth between them in bewilderment. The old monk clicked his tongue.
“Tsk tsk! You’ve always had dull ears. Haven’t I told you time and again to attune yourself to the world’s affairs?”
“Martial Granduncle!”
Chided, Gwanghae made a woeful face. But the old monk continued unperturbed.
“Enough. You can go now.”
“Pardon?”
“There’s no need for you here. I have matters to discuss alone with this young one. Wait outside.”
“Understood.”
Gwanghae gave a respectful bow to the old monk and withdrew.
The old monk watched Gwanghae’s retreating figure with a bright smile until he was gone, then turned to Damho.
“What an innocently bright child. Isn’t he?”
Damho nodded silently. One might take offense, but the old monk regarded Damho with pleased eyes.
His gaze and smile, like a grandfather beholding his grown grandson, brimmed with warm affection.
“Pleased to meet you, child. Do you know of me?”
Damho shook his head.
“My dharma name is Muryang.”
“…”
“I’m two generations above Gwanghae—an old fogey who should’ve long turned to fertilizer, yet here I am, uselessly consuming food.”
At the old monk’s explanation, Damho’s eyes flickered briefly.
Two generations above Gwanghae meant the monk was at least over a century old. Likely no warrior in the entire martial world exceeded his age.
Muryang Divine Monk—few in the world even knew the name. Most from his era had died or retired.
“Ungcha!”
Muryang Divine Monk rose with a grunt, dust cascading from his shoulders.
“Shall we take a walk?”
Muryang extended a hand to Damho. Without thinking, Damho grasped the wrinkled palm. Muryang smiled gently.
“How warm. Heh heh!”
Gripping Damho’s hand firmly, he shuffled out of the hut with effort. Squinting as if seeing sunlight for the first time in ages.
“It’s bright too. Let’s go that way.”
Muryang pointed to the woods behind the hut. Damho nodded and walked alongside.
The hand holding his felt burdensome. Yet he didn’t pull away, sensing it would be wrong to do so.
They arrived at a massive rock in the woods. The broad, flat stone, like a pedestal, gleamed smooth without a trace of moss.
“When I was young, I trained here. I tormented it so much not even moss could grow. Heh heh!”
“…”
“Hey! May I call you that?”
“Do as you like.”
Damho spoke for the first time.
Even meeting a legend of the martial world, his tone remained unchanged.
Muryang’s eyes, gazing at him, held worldly wisdom and an unfathomable sorrow.
“Heh heh! You’ve walked a truly arduous path. Must have been hard.”
“…”
“I’ve lived to this age, but the ways of the world are so profound I can’t grasp them all. Yet I’ve felt this: endure the trials, and fitting reward follows.”
Muryang reached out with a wrinkled hand to stroke Damho’s head, like an old grandfather with his grandson—full of warmth.
Being touched on the head isn’t pleasant. But Damho didn’t brush it off. Remorse and pity filled Muryang’s eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you, who’ve endured such trials, won’t find peace ahead… I’m sorry. The world is harsh to all, but especially to you.”
Muryang fiddled with Damho’s hands.
“When will the blood scent fade from these hands? When will the burdens on your shoulders lighten? Curse this powerless old man who only adds to them.”
Muryang’s words overflowed with sincerity. But Damho’s gaze no longer wavered.
His cultivation was rooted deep and solid as bedrock.
“What do you want to say?”
“A tale from long ago, a forgotten story of the martial world. Before I die. After hearing it, the choice is yours alone.”
Muryang closed his eyes as if delving into memory. After a pause, he began.
“Long ago, the martial world had four heroes. The world called them the Four Divine Emperors.”
At the mention of the Four Divine Emperors, Damho held his breath.
He’d heard the term countless times on his journeys, but no one had ever explained it clearly.
“People believe the orthodox sects united to repel the Demonic Cult. But without the Four Divine Emperors’ sacrifice, the demonic reign would persist. The martial world owes them an unpardonable debt.”
Blood Light Death God Ho Cheon-san.
Wind Moon Emperor Dan Gong-wol.
Western Queen Mother Yong Hwa-seol.
Iron Blood Martial God Yi Gwan.
“Each alone could have dominated the world—absolute warriors, four born in the same era. By fate’s jest, they were intertwined. Revered as Four Divine Emperors, they saw each other as friends. Thus, in crisis, they united to lead the counterattack.”
Before their fearsome might, Demonic Cult masters fell like autumn leaves. The Righteous Alliance they led won victory after victory, storming the cult’s heartland.
“Victory was at hand. A bit more pressure, and the cult would’ve been annihilated, never to rise again.”
“Something went wrong.”
“Indeed. At the critical moment, one of them… one of the Four Divine Emperors betrayed.”
“Who?”
“That I don’t know. Only that one betrayed, stabbing comrades in the back. Thus, the cult preserved minimal forces and retreated.”
Damho’s eyes sank deeply.
An unbelievable tale. No one had ever spoken of the Four Divine Emperors to him. No basis to judge truth. Yet he couldn’t wholly dismiss Muryang’s words.
His eyes were too pure—like they held no room for lies, proclaiming truth.
“Afterward, the Four vanished without trace, never reappearing.”
“Odds they’re dead?”
“This old man lives hale, so they must too.”
“…”
“They’ll emerge again. Or perhaps they already act in secret.”
Muryang’s eyes deepened.
Damho asked,
“Why tell me this?”
“I said it: your trials aren’t over.”
“You think I’ll meet them?”
“Certainly!”
Muryang was convinced.
Damho stared silently. Muryang embraced his fierce gaze with ocean-like calm.
“Who’s foe or ally, I can’t say. I only wish you caution—utmost caution. People are the world’s most fearsome. I say this to heighten your vigilance.”
Muryang’s tale continued long after, and Damho listened in silence.