Chapter 222
Chapter 222
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 222
Chapter Title: The Shaolin Temple
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"Wow, there sure are a lot."
Cheonhwi, who had followed Won-eum and arrived at the foot of Mount Song, scanned the scene before his eyes.
'I thought Mount Hua had quite a few visitors lately, but this is incomparable.'
The mountain path leading toward Sosing Peak bustled with pilgrims ascending and descending. Seizing the opportunity, merchants had set up stalls around them and were vigorously conducting business.
As the saying goes, people draw in more people.
The world's most renowned temple, Shaolin, attracted pilgrims, and the pilgrims gathered all sorts of merchants.
Their numbers were beyond counting.
'Shaolin truly is Shaolin.'
Cheonhwi stroked his chin.
It was the Shaolin he'd only heard about in tales.
The spiritual pillar that had long supported the Central Plains martial world, spoken of as a towering giant.
And seeing it firsthand, he could sense those words were no exaggeration.
'For Mount Hua to surpass this might take more time than I thought.'
Cheonhwi's eyes deepened.
The goal Cheonhwi had set for Mount Hua Sect was to become the supreme sect under heaven.
Naturally, that required surpassing Shaolin. Yet witnessing its current state, he felt it viscerally: it was absolutely impossible at present.
'Hmm, but with this many pilgrims visiting daily, how much revenue do they generate?'
Cheonhwi quickly surveyed them.
Even if each visible pilgrim donated just a single iron coin, it would amount to a tidy sum.
And if that continued every day...
'Perhaps Shaolin is the wealthiest sect in the Central Plains, not one of the Eight Great Families operating merchant caravans?'
It was a highly plausible notion.
Mount Hua Sect had recently profited handsomely from daily pilgrims during the public sparring exhibition.
'And judging by their expressions, they aren't the type to visit just once or twice.'
The pilgrims' faces all beamed with brightness.
The satisfaction radiating from their expressions spread subtly even to onlookers.
As Cheonhwi scanned the pilgrims' faces.
"This is Mount Song..."
An excited voice came from beside him.
Turning his head, he saw Dan Mok-rin busily craning her neck to take in Mount Song.
Her veil rippled in large waves, as if mirroring her fluttering heart.
Her eyes were surely sparkling beneath it.
In contrast, Cheon Ig-ae trembled with unease, his eyes darting about rapidly.
He fretted that someone might recognize him in his current guise.
It was then.
"The Great Hero of the Buddha Palm?!"
"Master Won-eum!"
The visitors and merchants on the mountain path spotted Won-eum belatedly and swarmed like a horde of ants.
"Thanks to your aid, Master, we safely endured last winter."
"Your Buddhist attainment seems even deeper than last time we met."
As the massive crowd voicing gratitude engulfed Cheonhwi's group and threatened to separate them from Won-eum.
"Amitabha."
Won-eum chanted softly.
A subtle golden glow emanated from his body, slowly enveloping the surroundings.
At the astonishing sight, everyone clasped hands in prayer and chanted softly.
"Amitabha."
"Amitabha."
With a single chant, Won-eum quelled the uproar, a benevolent smile gracing his lips.
As all fell silent, entranced by his Buddha-like smile and gazing at him, he spoke.
"This poor monk is grateful for your warm welcome. I wish to greet each donor who has come here one by one, but unavoidable circumstances compel me to proceed ahead."
His voice carried genuine regret, prompting the surrounding crowd to shake their heads.
"No, we unnecessarily delayed you, Master Won-eum."
"If you have matters to attend, hurry along."
They promptly cleared a path for him.
The thronged mountain path instantly ordered itself, forming a narrow passageway.
"Amitabha. Thank you for your understanding."
Won-eum smiled warmly and proceeded through the gap.
Cheonhwi's group followed, prompting whispers from the onlookers.
"Who are those people?"
"Is escorting them the circumstance the Master mentioned?"
"Their attire is peculiar, though. That young man carries two swords, and the woman beside him has her face entirely veiled. Only the elderly scholar seems presentable, but his expression is rather..."
Cheon Ig-ae's face twisted in displeasure.
Though they whispered faintly, every word rang crystal clear to him, given his advanced cultivation.
"Tsk, we've become a sideshow."
Won-eum, overhearing ahead, glanced back apologetically and spoke.
"My apologies."
Unable to retort further to Won-eum's apology, Cheon Ig-ae clamped his mouth shut.
Cheonhwi and Dan Mok-rin, who had heard the murmurs as well, remained silent.
"Tsk."
Still harboring dissatisfaction, he pursed his lips, about to vent to Cheonhwi and Dan Mok-rin.
"Just hurry it up. How long do you plan to waste time here?"
Cheonhwi spoke indifferently, paying Cheon Ig-ae no mind.
He couldn't care less about the surrounding chatter.
He simply wanted to reach Shaolin Temple quickly.
Won-eum nodded.
"Follow me."
With a kindly tone, he hastened his steps up the mountain path. Soon, the group arrived at Shaolin's mountain gate.
'Well now, what's this?'
Cheonhwi gazed steadily at the stately mountain gate, where a massive plaque boldly proclaimed "Shaolin Temple (少林寺)" in gold lettering.
The faint energy emanating from the plaque.
Merely beholding it conveyed an aura of evil-warding and demon-banishing might.
For unrefined evil sect martial artists or demonic path practitioners, it would spell dire peril.
'Who inscribed this? It must be someone of lofty realm.'
As he scrutinized the unexpected energy intently.
"What are you staring at?"
"This plaque."
To the query from beside him, Cheonhwi pointed at the signboard with his index finger.
"How dare you!"
"Pointing there...!"
Some pilgrims bristled at the insolence, but Cheonhwi ignored them and turned to Won-eum.
"Who wrote this?"
Won-eum startled slightly at the audacious gesture but replied calmly.
"Master Bodhidharma."
Interest sparked in Cheonhwi's eyes, curving them like a new moon.
'Oh ho, Bodhidharma's handwriting? No wonder it radiates such power.'
Cheonhwi accepted it at once.
Bodhidharma ranked among history's top five masters.
'Yet strangely vivid after a millennium.'
Won-eum then murmured.
"Truly wondrous, isn't it? After a thousand years, the script and energy remain so pristine."
As if reading Cheonhwi's thoughts, Won-eum smiled and continued.
"Shall we enter?"
He turned and beckoned.
Seeing Dan Mok-rin and Cheon Ig-ae already at the gate entrance, Cheonhwi gave the plaque one last glance and stepped forward.
Step— step—
Perhaps owing to Won-eum's company.
The group crossed the mountain gate unhindered.
Once fully inside, the oppressive air gave way to openness.
"No people here."
"From this point, not just anyone may enter."
"So it seems."
Cheonhwi replied, surveying the surroundings.
Shaolin's interior, secluded from the pilgrim throngs, offered a tranquil, pleasing serenity.
"Follow along."
Won-eum took the lead.
Unlike the chaotic exterior, Shaolin's depths were uncomplicated.
Only sparse monks and novices milled about.
Cheonhwi's group appeared to be the sole visitors.
'Far from what I expected.'
Cheonhwi observed throughout the walk.
Shaolin's interior was hushed and austere.
Antique halls stood neatly arrayed, but that was all.
'With all that wealth, I figured the inside would dazzle. It might even seem humbler than other temples.'
Jongnam from before felt more opulent by comparison.
Trailing behind, Cheon Ig-ae likewise scanned about and muttered softly.
"No change from before."
Faint as it was, Won-eum responded promptly.
"Have you visited our temple previously, benefactor?"
"Hm, I briefly entered once by chance."
Regretting his careless words, Cheon Ig-ae averted his eyes awkwardly.
As Won-eum puzzled over it.
"Rough-hewn yet exquisitely detailed—this stone Buddha evinces tremendous effort."
Dan Mok-rin, admiring a nearby statue, approached gingerly, exclaiming in awe.
Beholding Shaolin's interior for the first time, she brimmed with excitement.
"Just gazing upon it washes away my anxieties."
"Ho ho, grateful for your kind words. This statue was personally carved by the late master. It embodies the Buddha's heart..."
Pleased by her reaction, Won-eum expounded on the statue, then extended to nearby halls.
"...And among the three great Buddha halls is the Mahavira Hall; that one is the Arhat Hall..."
Dan Mok-rin's veil quivered briefly as she listened raptly.
"Arhat Hall—the abode of the Eighteen Arhats, yes?"
"Ho ho, you know it well, benefactor."
Hm? Eighteen Arhats?
Only then did Cheonhwi perk up.
His interest piqued.
The Eighteen Arhats were Shaolin's famed elites.
"Are they in there?"
Won-eum's smile deepened as Cheonhwi shifted from bored perusal to keen curiosity.
"Regrettably, they train at present."
"Tch, really?"
As Cheonhwi expressed disappointment, Won-eum inquired.
"Interested in the Eighteen Arhats?"
"Naturally. They're the finest selected from 108 Arhat monks. Who wouldn't wonder about their prowess?"
"Quite so."
A faint smile played on Won-eum's lips.
"Then follow this poor monk."
He altered course.
'Fortuitous timing.'
Won-eum's laugh lines deepened.
Gongmun and Gongjin, aided by Cheonhwi in the Muyoung Divine Throw's annex, had newly joined the Eighteen Arhats.
He'd planned a separate reintroduction, but Cheonhwi's interest made it ideal to guide him now.
"Eighteen Arhats..."
Cheonhwi's eyes gleamed.
Trailing Won-eum eastward, they halted abruptly before a door.
"This is the Shaolin Thirty-Six Chambers, where warrior monks train."
After a succinct introduction, Won-eum pushed open the sturdy wooden door flanked by red pillars.
Creeeak—
As the aged door swung open.
Haaaaap!
A resounding kiai, thrilling to the marrow, fiercely assailed the group.
Dan Mok-rin and even Cheon Ig-ae stood transfixed, staring blankly at the spectacle.
Innumerable warrior monks filled the training ground, thrusting fists and swinging staffs in unison.
Perfectly synchronized.
As Dan Mok-rin and Cheon Ig-ae lost their words amid the grand vista.
"Hm."
Cheonhwi queried indifferently.
"So where are the Eighteen Arhats?"
Having witnessed grander displays in his past life, he felt little stir.
The kiais pack a punch.
That was the extent.
Won-eum faltered briefly at Cheonhwi's nonchalance but brightened.
'Ho ho, as anticipated—he's no ordinary prodigy.'
Stepping forth, Won-eum said.
"A short way west."
Cheonhwi averted his gaze from the training ground and followed.
"Hup!"
"Eek!"
Dan Mok-rin and Cheon Ig-ae, snapping to belatedly, scurried after.
The group advanced through the training ground, yet none spared them a glance.
The warrior monks focused solely on their arts.
And the techniques they demonstrated were famed across the martial world.
Six Harmonies Fist, Tiger Fist, Supreme Kick, Eagle Claw Hand, and more...
Arts originating from Shaolin, disseminated far and wide.
Now commonplace and deemed low-tier, in their hands, power and momentum eclipsed third-rates by orders of magnitude.
"This is Shaolin's..."
Dan Mok-rin gulped.
Shaolin surpassed rumor.
In technique, prestige, might.
As she marveled at the overwhelming display, Cheon Ig-ae muttered, shaking his head.
"Shaolin remains Shaolin."
He too was awed.
No transcendent masters perhaps, yet Shaolin rightfully led the Nine Great Sects. The verified prestige astonished.
How far had they gone?
They reached a western training ground.
There, warrior monks gripped overlapped staffs, eyes shut.
"Wait briefly."
Won-eum halted them.
Instantly, eighteen monks' eyes snapped open, moving as one.
Tatadak!
Deploying Arhat Step—mandatory for Arhat monks—they seized all directions in a breath, then emanated aura.
Subtle golden light rippled outward, saturating the space.
Then languidly, ever so languidly.
Space warped.
Boom!
They slammed staffs down in unison.
Whoooosh!
A colossal qi tempest erupted.
"...!"
Dan Mok-rin's eyes bulged.
Unbelievable.
The eighteen monks vanished, supplanted by Buddha statue phantoms cradling the training ground in palms.
The sight quickened the pulse.
She wasn't alone in shock.
"Eighteen Arhats Formation...!"
Cheon Ig-ae gaped, voice laced with alarm.
The Eighteen Arhats Formation condensed the 108 Arhats Great Formation—Shaolin's historic, unbroken pride, invincible array.
'Saw it decades ago, yet this pressure chokes.'
Sweat prickled his brow, dripping onto robes.
Overwhelming golden radiance and presence.
Not even targeted, his spine chilled.
'The formation is flawless.'
Won-eum beamed proudly at the awed pair, then dismayed upon Cheonhwi.
"That's your Eighteen Arhats Formation?"
Cheonhwi concealed no disappointment.
"An utter shambles."
As he tsked.
Boom!
A thud resounded from the ground.
One formation monk slammed his staff earthward, glaring icily downward.
He was Wonho, Arhat Hall Lord—Shaolin's martial representative.
"A shambles, you said?"
Wonho's brows twitched violently.
The furrow creasing his brow bespoke deep ire.
"Indeed."
"You dare...!"
A rasping growl escaped.
Others might shrink, but.
"Don't you realize?"
Cheonhwi smirked, meeting his gaze, then raised an index finger.
"There, there, there."
Isolating three among eighteen, he continued.
"Those three shattered the seamless flow midway."
"...!"
Wonho's pupils quivered.
Cheonhwi's picks were the novices newly inducted.
'Coincidence...?'
Yet he pressed on.
"Their inexperience disrupted it, yet you barreled ahead oblivious. Properly, Life, Rest, and Death Gates should bind and crush the foe..."
Cheonhwi wagged his head.
Glancing at Wonho, he tsked.
"Tsk, you don't even grasp the flaw."
Wonho's nose bridge crumpled at the bullseye critique.
"...Glib tongue."
"See? Clueless still."
Cheonhwi sighed.
"How do you expect a proper Eighteen Arhats Formation?"
"Insolent whelp...!"
Wonho seethed.
Won-eum interjected hastily.
"Junior brother, compose yourself. Benefactor, enough provocation..."
"Still lost? Want enlightenment?"
Cheonhwi curled a lip.
"Deploy it on me. I'll demonstrate your 'Eighteen Arhats Formation's' mess."