The Master's Teachings (1)
The precept monks were startled as Jin Ha-gun came charging in.
They had already found his claim of searching for the outhouse suspicious.
But wasn't he a man dispatched from the Wudang Sect to the Murim Alliance?
So even if they harbored doubts, they planned to let it slide. They never imagined he would launch a sudden assault.
In the moment the precept monks faltered, unable to respond properly, Jin Ha-gun leaped forward and jabbed his sword finger into the shoulder well of one monk.
At the same time, his other hand struck the side of another precept monk nearby.
"……!"
The two precept monks staggered back a step before freezing in place like wooden statues.
They had been struck by pressure points, rendering them immobile.
It was a strike as swift as a bolt of lightning.
Seeing their comrades taken down without lifting a finger, the leader bellowed in fury.
"How dare you commit such insolence within the sacred grounds of Shaolin Temple!"
The two precept monks who hadn't been acupointed drew the goei from their belts.
Goe—a short staff with a handle in the middle, shaped like the character “卜.”
The goei lacked a blade yet allowed for both offense and defense. The protruding handle could pin a neck or hook an arm like iron shackles, making it perfect for escorting criminals.
"Hah!"
The precept monks flanked Jin Ha-gun from both sides and charged.
Shaolin was renowned not only for its martial arts but also its formations.
Especially the Arhat Formation, said never to have been broken.
These precept monks had entered Shaolin as child novices, sharing meals and quarters for years. They could sync perfectly with just a glance, so their prowess in formations was only natural.
Even with just two, their movements were flawless.
One aimed for Jin Ha-gun's throat, the other his knee tendon, swinging their goei.
Attacks from both directions. Blocking one would leave him open to the other.
In that instant, Jin Ha-gun spread both palms upward.
He straightened his torso, bent only his knees to lower his stance, and blocked the goei with both hands.
Swish swish swish.
Jin Ha-gun's palm technique flowed toward the goei like silk rippling in the wind.
The next moment, as he stepped into a footwork pattern and spun his body, his palms wrapped around each goei.
Then, as Jin Ha-gun spun with his footwork, the goei swung by the precept monks flew not toward him—but at their comrades.
"This technique... Wudang Cotton Palm……!"
The precept leader, well-versed in martial arts, recognized it at once.
But recognition aside, his hands followed the pull of Jin Ha-gun's palms.
In the end, the two precept monks struck each other—one in the throat, the other in the knee tendon.
"Keurk!"
As the precept monks recoiled from the heavy blows, Jin Ha-gun scooped up two small pebbles from the ground, gripped them in each hand, and flicked them with his fingers.
Thwack thwack.
The lightly flung pebbles struck each precept monk squarely in the shoulder well.
The acupointed precept monks froze like wooden statues, mid-motion.
The technique Jin Ha-gun had just unleashed was even more astonishing than the Wudang Cotton Palm.
It was none other than the Finger Flicking Divine Skill, one of Shaolin's seventy-two supreme arts.
The Finger Flicking Divine Skill wasn't profoundly complex in principle—just infusing pebbles or projectiles with inner energy and flicking them with the fingers.
But without profound inner energy, even imitating it was impossible. There were likely fewer than ten in the Central Plains martial world who could perform it.
And Jin Ha-gun had executed it as casually as a child at play.
Come to think of it, wasn't Wudang the origin of soft martial arts?
Jin Ha-gun stopped his movements, bowed brightly to the frozen precept monks, and smiled.
"My apologies. I'll be taking my leave for a moment."
The precept monks couldn't speak but could hear. Their faces flushed red and purple with shock and anger.
Having subdued all four precept monks in an instant, Jin Ha-gun turned to Seo Baek and asked,
"What do you think?"
"Of what?"
There was no emotion in Seo Baek's voice—or his mood, for that matter.
"How does my Finger Flicking Divine Skill compare to that inner cultivation method you've trained in? I hear it's the one that will end the revenant outbreak?"
"……."
Jin Ha-gun spoke with a beaming smile, but it was impossible to tell if it was mockery or pure curiosity.
"My master said so, so it must be true."
"I can't believe that."
"Whether you believe it or not is none of my concern."
"Shika Manor. An obscure little clan tucked away in a Sichuan backwater. And they're supposed to stop the revenant outbreak? Ridiculous."
"What are you trying to say?"
"Is Shika Manor perhaps a den of con artists?"
"No."
Seo Baek had answered without emotion, but fury ignited when Shika Manor was mocked.
"You're from Shika Manor too. The word of those involved lacks credibility."
"Then why don't you test it?"
Seo Baek's eyes burned fiercely.
It was the first time he had shown emotion since deciding to enter the Repentance Cave—lost in some trance-like detachment.
"I've been waiting for you to say that."
Jin Ha-gun flipped his palms over, assuming the starting stance of the Wudang Cotton Palm.
* * *
As the precept monks led Seo Baek away, Mu Hye and Myeong Suk departed as well.
The Shaolin monks who had surrounded the room in layers all withdrew.
The guest quarters fell into a heavy silence.
Seo Baek's companions—no, everyone except Seo Baek—remained utterly still, not uttering a word.
Jin-mun, who had grown close to the group on the cliffside path, had nothing to say. Hasty comfort might only poison the moment.
Jin-mun addressed the remaining Shaolin monks.
"Take their luggage and weapons."
Shaolin hadn't confiscated bladed weapons upon opening the salutation hall.
But those entering the Repentance Cave could carry nothing but their robes. Before leaving with the precept monks, Seo Baek had unslung the leather satchel and sword from his back onto the floor.
One Shaolin monk shouldered the leather satchel.
But as another reached for the sword, he staggered and collapsed.
"Urk!"
Jin-mun swiftly leaped to catch his junior brother.
But the junior dropped the sword. It hit the floor with a resounding thud.
Thud.
Seo Baek's sword resembled a massive horse-chopping blade.
Horse-choppers typically had a single-edged blade, but this was a true sword with edges on both sides.
As a greatsword, it had no separate scabbard. The Shaolin monk, nearly injured, patted his chest in relief.
"Thank you, senior brother."
"What happened?"
"This sword... it's incredibly heavy."
Jin-mun tested it himself, gripping the hilt. His eyes gleamed with surprise.
In Shaolin, unmatched in external martial arts, even a lifelong disciple had dropped it. Now he understood why. The sword was that heavy.
The boy who had freely wielded this oversized, unimaginably heavy greatsword.
Jin-mun marveled anew at Seo Baek's strength and profound inner energy.
In the end, two Shaolin monks lifted the sword together, one on each side.
Trained in external arts, they could manage it, but its size posed a risk of injuring someone inside the building.
Song Hyeon watched the monks carry off the sword with a meaningful gaze.
Once the Shaolin monks had all left, Wang Yi Sam finally snapped out of it. He rounded on Dang Ryong without warning.
"You bastard! Didn't you promise to save the kid's life once?"
"I did."
"Then why just stand there while they drag him off?"
"No point fighting hundreds of Shaolin monks when we'd lose anyway."
Dang Ryong shrugged.
But Wang Yi Sam's anger didn't subside.
"Hmph! That life-saving oath was all hot air, huh? Never thought Sacheon Tang Clan folk were two-faced liars!"
Dang Ryong replied calmly but coldly.
"It's an oath to myself, so I'll keep it."
"Hah, how? The kid's been taken!"
"If he dies, I'll end my own life. Satisfied?"
"……!"
Wang Yi Sam, veteran of the jianghu, sensed it wasn't bravado.
An outlandish vow: if broken, suicide.
Even Wang Yi Sam, who had encountered countless eccentrics roaming the rivers and lakes, couldn't guess Dang Ryong's circumstances.
Curious about Dang Ryong's thoughts, he sidled up to Song Hyeon and whispered,
"That sword of Seo Baek's earlier."
"What about it?"
"Seemed specially forged. From your look, you noticed something."
"Hardly."
Song Hyeon replied indifferently, as always.
"Just a plain sword, big as it is."
* * *
"I heard you wield an extraordinary greatsword?"
Jin Ha-gun said to Seo Baek, still in his starting stance.
"It's just a plain sword, big as it is."
"Pity. I wanted to see your swordsmanship."
"Weren't you here to test my inner cultivation method?"
"Ah, right! Slipped my mind. Inner method first."
Jin Ha-gun, forgetting his own words moments ago.
His innocent smile made his true intentions inscrutable.
"As a martial world senior, striking first feels awkward."
"No need to yield three moves."
"Very well. Let's begin."
Jin Ha-gun spun and thrust his palm toward Seo Baek.
Swish swish swish.
Seo Baek had experienced martial arts from countless sects.
Shaolin's fierce external arts, Ami Sect's elegant swordsmanship, Sacheon Tang Clan's vicious hidden weapons.
Yet Wudang's arts were uniquely bizarre, unlike any other.
Jin Ha-gun's palm floated toward him like a falling leaf in an autumn breeze.
No ferocity or dominance—just a soft strike that a puff could scatter.
But Seo Baek ignored it.
Having resolved to enter the Repentance Cave, he felt detached from the world. He met Jin Ha-gun's palm head-on, without gauging its profound inner energy.
Seo Baek mimicked the strike exactly, extending his own palm.
Jin Ha-gun inwardly smiled at the direct clash.
'Well now?'
No reason to dodge. He flipped his palm and clapped it against Seo Baek's like applause.
Curiously, it mirrored his past inner energy clash with Cheon Ri Hyeong of the Iron Palm Gang.
Seo Baek and Jin Ha-gun's palms met with a resounding clap.
Crack.
A common saying among martial enthusiasts: External arts from Shaolin, internal from Wudang, swordsmanship from Huashan—the best in the Central Plains.
Jin Ha-gun, whose inner energy was peerless even in Wudang.
'Let's see how impressive it is.'
He poured over thirty years of pure Wudang inner energy into Seo Baek's palm.
The inner energy clash between Seo Baek and Jin Ha-gun had begun.