The Broken Monk's Desperate Plea
Cold sweat trickled down the faces of those who called themselves masters, all thanks to the piercing gaze of the Geumuiwi warrior.
"... Amitabha... This humble monk is Hyeon Yeon Sunim, abbot of the Shaolin Temple and current leader of the Murim Alliance... Might I ask who you are, sir?"
The sudden arrival of the Geumuiwi and the reverent tone from the alliance leader's mouth—it was the sort of thing that begged for some explanation. Yet the leadership could only wipe their sweat, saying nothing as tension thickened the air like a natural law.
"Hmph! What nonsense about being Shaolin's abbot? Shouldn't you wipe the bloodstains from your robes first before spouting such drivel?"
It was a blatant insult to his origins, but the leader had no retort, even if his mouth had a thousand tongues. As a martial artist who had taken refuge in the Buddha, he couldn't deny the killings and leading the fray at the forefront of conflict.
"Tch. What a messed-up world... Talking about 'secular laws don't touch monks' and such, after forgetting His Majesty's mercy like this..."
He muttered, his aura swelling like a tiger baring its fangs. The leader was a Fire Realm master himself, yet this man suppressed him effortlessly with sheer presence alone. That meant the Geumuiwi's leader was at least at the pinnacle of Fire Realm—or more likely, had reached the Manifest Realm.
The leader swallowed a groan inwardly at the tongue-tying prowess of the Geumuiwi.
"Grandfather, what's all this commotion?"
A delicate yet resolute woman's voice cut through the chaos. The Geumuiwi addressed as grandfather reined in his aura instantly, turning his horse toward the palanquin whence the voice came.
"It's nothing, Yeonhui. Don't worry about it."
"No, Grandfather—do you still see me as some child?"
To the Geumuiwi, it truly was a minor matter, but Yeonhui, his granddaughter, was nominally the head of this procession. He shot a glance at his men, subtly urging them to act, then clicked his tongue and removed his helmet.
Revealed were neatly tied snow-white hair and beard, exuding the aura of a battle-hardened veteran general. From his lips erupted a thunderous command.
"If any of you utter a word out of line to my granddaughter, you'll all die."
"......!!!"
The old man's imposing presence and untouchable might. Add his position as Geumuiwi commander and his claim that Yeonhui was his granddaughter. Rumors had wings, even if secular laws spared monks. Realizing who they faced, the Murim Alliance realized the whispers of an absolute master in the imperial army weren't exaggerated. They frantically scanned their own ranks, ensuring no fool from their sects caused trouble.
In that tense atmosphere, the alliance leader ground his teeth, rolling his prayer beads to mask his nerves.
"L-Leader Dong Chobak... and Princess Juyeonhui...?"
Even as the trembling leader spoke, Dong Chobak glanced at him briefly before turning toward the palanquin. Were these rabble more important than his granddaughter, the emperor's daughter?
"If you're so curious, come out then, Yeonhui."
"I was planning to anyway."
"Tch. Where did my cute granddaughter who used to fawn over her gramps go...?"
No sooner had Dong Chobak finished than the palanquin door flew open, and a woman leaped out.
Her face flushed red at his unexpected words, but her beauty drew involuntary gasps. Clad in light armor fitting her bold speech, her thick brows and lustrous skin bespoke noble blood, while her innate air of dominance harmonized perfectly with her form—still maturing, yet already imperial.
In a word: a kingdom-toppling beauty and a heroine incarnate. That was the Murim Alliance's first impression of Princess Juyeonhui.
"Hmm... Aren't their necks a bit too stiff, Grandfather?"
The leader, experienced with high officials in his monkly days, sent a telepathic message to his subordinates before kneeling.
"We pay our respects to Your Highness."
His quick thinking spread via transmission, and the alliance dropped to their knees in unison. Their thunderous echo created a spectacle, but their varied reactions—some fervent, some half-hearted—would hardly impress the princess. For a moment, she brightened at the leader's improvisation, scanning the surroundings.
Then her brow furrowed at the bloodstained robes of the group.
"Grandfather, do monks these days kill now?"
"Leave them be. Aren't they broken-precepts monks or whatever?"
Those gut-wrenching words passed between them, and the leader squeezed his eyes shut, chanting sutras. All he could do was pray the storm passed.
"Well... We've exchanged greetings. Now explain why you're gathered here like this. You there, broken-precepts monk—looks like you're the leader. Speak."
Juyeonhui sat regally, gesturing at him with her chin. The leader crawled forward on his knees, pressed his palms together, and spoke slowly.
"We are the Murim Alliance, representatives of the righteous sects. This humble one, though unworthy, serves as its leader, Hyeon Yeon."
"A broken-precepts monk is still a broken-precepts monk—killing and chasing worldly gains..."
"... Your Highness, though this monk sought personal desires, there are circumstances behind it all."
"Oh? What might those be?"
Boredom vanished from the brash princess's eyes, replaced by interest. Despite the insult, it was the best reaction possible. The leader seized the moment.
"Originally, the martial world was divided peacefully into righteous and unrighteous sects. But the Demonic Cult, leaders of the unrighteous, massacred innocents without mercy and committed unspeakable atrocities. We rose to punish them."
Heavily abbreviated, but when else would he get to kneel on the roadside and prattle before nobility? Nodding, satisfied he'd conveyed the essentials.
"So... Bad guys ran wild, and you 'good guys' drew your swords. That's it?"
"Yes, Your Highness. They wield gunpowder and plagues, staining His Majesty's reign with heinous acts. We beseech you to help us eradicate them."
The mention of gunpowder and plagues—highly dangerous terms—stirred the Geumuiwi ranks. Dong Chobak quelled them with a glance, stepping forward to glare at the leader.
"Those words ring true, yes?"
Gone was his disdain for the "broken-precepts monk"; fury began to brew in his eyes. The leader swallowed hard and nodded.
"Indeed. This monk, though destined to be called broken-precepts, has taken refuge in the Buddha. I swear on my prayer beads and sutras."
Considering his bloodied robes and Fire Realm cultivation gleaming in his eyes, Dong Chobak nodded, picking up the beads.
"Very well, I'll trust you this once... If a group defies His Majesty's reign, it's the Geumuiwi's duty to witness and punish. Should you deceive me, I'll take these beads in recompense. But if true, great rewards await—so recite your sutras while I handle this."
"Amitabha..."
Humiliated before his peers, but with all pieces in place to crush the Demonic Cult's minions, the leader felt bittersweet gratitude that Buddha still watched over him. He'd fade into history's shadows, but with the imperial house backing Shaolin to uphold the righteous world—that was reward enough.
As he detailed the Demonic Cult's location and events, Dong Chobak—more skeptical than enraged—led the imperial forces, leaving the alliance behind toward Shin-gang.
"Hmm... This is nothing like what Grandpa described..."
Back in her palanquin, Juyeonhui muttered to herself. The procession formed at her tutor's urging and reports, so their divided opinions amused her. She smirked, leaning back.
One side must be lying... This could be fun. Hehe.