The Divine Dragon's Shadow
The Murim Alliance was thrown into secret chaos with the emergence of the Divine Dragon. Several mid- and low-ranking officials, including scribes and inspectors, had died within the Alliance's walls. The victims suddenly complained of abdominal pain, collapsed, convulsed, and ultimately perished. When Cho Hyeon-ryang heard the autopsy results, he clutched his head.
"Gu poison? What nonsense is this?"
"A lethal toxin erupted all at once, rotting their internal organs from within. The gallbladder and liver were unusually clean in color. There are also reports that victims have appeared not only within the Alliance but in the government offices as well."
"Ugh. So?"
"The Military Affairs Department believes someone deliberately spread gu poison throughout Kaifeng, then discarded the entire group and fled once their objective was achieved or became impossible to reach."
Impossible to reach. Cho Hyeon-ryang thought. The Military Affairs Department certainly had a flair for dramatic phrasing.
"The Dang Clan's guests are here. They're experts in this field. Why not seek their cooperation?"
"This could become a stain on the Alliance's reputation. For now, we're investigating whether the victims were involved in any corruption through gu poison-based coercion."
"Hmm. Very well."
Cho Hyeon-ryang nodded. If they could handle everything themselves, he wondered why they needed to report it at all. But this was the fate of the Murim Alliance's leader. While subordinates handled the practical matters, the leader had to know every detail of what transpired within the Alliance.
"And here are the results of this session's assembly. Please review them all and grant your approval. And please don't just stamp your seal like last time, only to later claim you never authorized it."
If you're going to do this, you should be the leader yourself. Cho Hyeon-ryang could only let out a heavy sigh.
----
The fervor of the Grand Murim Tournament was reaching its peak. With most events concluded, the results of the assembly were announced before the semi-finals of the Hidden Dragon Tournament on the floating stage. Even the smaller orthodox sects from the provinces had cast their votes, representing the collective will of the orthodox Murim.
Cho Hyeon-ryang, dressed in an almost celestial manner, declared the Murim Alliance's upcoming official activities with his inner energy amplifying his already remarkable voice. First came news of support for orthodox sects in the southeastern regions of the Central Plains, particularly in Yangju and Gyoji. These areas had long suffered under the pressure of the Saparyeon, and the Alliance intended to help them break free from that oppression. The establishment of the Murim Alliance's Honam branch was an extension of this effort, positioned to rapidly extend influence into both Yangju and Gyoji.
However, what truly excited everyone was the revival of the Uijeong Muhakgwan. The academy was essentially the Murim Alliance's irregular training institution. The idea was simple: send talented boys and girls, and they would be forged into masters. With the peerless techniques of the Nine Great Sects' lay disciples, the secret arts of the Ten Great Clans' branch families, and even rare elixirs freely bestowed, each opening of the academy produced future masters in droves.
In truth, it wasn't an appealing option for the famous sects. If they already possessed renowned divine arts and established disciple training systems, there was no need to send their talented individuals to the Murim Alliance. But for the smaller sects and young wanderers aspiring to join the orthodox Murim, it was a true gateway to success—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a dragon to rise from a stream.
"Ooooooh!! Waaah!!"
In the midst of the heated atmosphere, Seomun Cheong could clearly hear the cheers even from beyond the waiting room's curtain.
"What is it? Did some famous restaurant start handing out unlimited meal tickets?"
"Honestly. Everything somehow leads back to food with you."
"What else could make them cheer like that? Unless the Alliance Leader announced he's treating everyone to a feast."
Paeng Daesan, waiting for his match, let out a chuckle. The two semi-final matches were Gongson Yoye versus Paeng Daesan, and Wolbong versus Seomun Cheong. In the end, it had come down to those with the highest realms.
"San. What should we eat after the matches? Either way, it's either you or Yoye winning. I'll treat today. Drinks to celebrate the winner, and consolation drinks for the loser. How about Sahongchunju? I heard it's been gaining popularity lately."
"Aren't you nervous at all? Hmph. You might end up needing those consolation drinks yourself if you lose."
"As if. There's no way the transcendent Peak realm Seomun Cheong would lose to these kids in a tournament like this."
Paeng Daesan raised an eyebrow slightly.
"So, who are you cheering for? Me or Lady Gongson?"
"What? How childish. San, were you the type to ask 'Do you like Mommy or Daddy more?'"
"Saying you like both equally wouldn't be much better either. So, who will you cheer for?"
"Hmm."
Seomun Cheong rubbed her chin, pretending to think seriously, then gave her answer.
"I suppose I'll have to cheer for you, San. We've known each other longer, after all."
"Are you certain? If Lady Gongson were here, I suspect you'd give a different answer."
"No. Based on our sparring results, if you make it up there, you'll just win anyway. Yoye is... somehow tricky to deal with. And it feels like she hasn't shown her true strength yet?"
Paeng Daesan's eyebrow twitched. She was cheering for him because he seemed easier to beat.
"Do people usually say things like that to someone's face?"
"Hmph. If you're upset, just win and come up."
"Ha. You're the one who'll regret underestimating Shaolin's martial arts. Even if you lose, don't worry too much. I'll pour you enough to drown in alcohol."
"Hmm. Not sure if that's a curse or a blessing."
While Seomun Cheong tilted her head in confusion, Paeng Daesan's turn finally arrived. As he stood and headed for the door, he suddenly grabbed the frame and looked back.
"Win and come up. We need to have a proper match in the finals."
With his ears slightly flushed, he turned and left without another word. Seomun Cheong instantly knew the outcome. Anyone who said something like that before a match was destined to lose. It was an absolute, cosmic inevitability.
And just as expected, that was exactly what happened. Since she'd already anticipated it, Seomun Cheong wasn't particularly surprised. She simply looked forward to having new material to tease him with.
Then it was her turn. Seomun Cheong strode confidently down the now-familiar corridor toward the stage. A thick canopy covered the ceiling, and the massive roar from the crowd made the floating stage's floor tremble beneath her feet.
The status Shaolin held in Murim could be summed up in a single phrase: the ancestral home. The saying went that all martial arts originated from Shaolin. To ordinary people unfamiliar with Murim, Shaolin was practically Murim itself—an idol. Moreover, the First Under Heaven had come from Shaolin. And now a young disciple carrying on that lineage was achieving consecutive victories in the Hidden Dragon Tournament. It was only natural that everyone was in an uproar, treating it as the grand debut of the next First Under Heaven.
The atmosphere made it seem as though the tournament winner had already been decided.
Fueled by this excitement, the cheers that erupted when Monk Wolbong leaped onto the stage with a heavy thud were enough to shake the heavens. When he performed Shaolin's characteristic greeting in all directions, the noise grew even louder. It was the half-palm salute. The gesture originated from when the virtuous monk Hyega had offered his own arm as tuition to learn from Bodhidharma. The story went that Bodhidharma, receiving a severed arm instead of regular payment, had thought, "This fellow is quite ruthless," and accepted him as a disciple. Since Hyega had only one arm, he performed the salute with a single hand—hence "half-palm."
The cheering dragged on. The spectators, too excited at the prospect of witnessing the future First Under Heaven spread his wings, couldn't contain themselves. Wolbong performed the half-palm salute once more, and the crowd roared again, seemingly unaware of the value of their own voices.
Seomun Su-rin frowned at the sight. Normally, when one person appeared and received cheers during an official event, the next person would wait for the excitement to subside as a matter of courtesy. If the cheering went on too long, the second person would have to wait indefinitely, so it was also their duty to request restraint at an appropriate level. Seomun Su-rin couldn't help but click her tongue.
That young monk is quite the show-off. He had probably spent his days training in the mountains of Songshan without ever making a name for himself, so it was understandable that he would be intoxicated by the crowd's enthusiasm. But as a Shaolin warrior monk whose foundation rested on an immovable, unshakable mind, he still had much to learn.
Seomun Su-rin glared at the head table without hiding her displeasure. As expected, Abbot Muhak, the Divine Monk known as the First Under Heaven, was also furrowing his protruding eyebrows in embarrassment. Seeing his expression made Seomun Su-rin feel slightly better. It seemed he had taught his disciple martial arts well but failed to properly instruct him in Buddhist studies.
Finally, the host stepped forward, waving both hands to request calm. Only then did the lovely disciple make her entrance with a fairy-like grace.
"Waaah. It's the Ugly Swordswoman."
Seomun Su-rin clenched her fists tightly. There was little response. Compared to the thunderous roars that had shaken the previous matches, this was practically silence. The reaction was markedly different from when the Gongson Clan's child had appeared. Of course, while Lady Gongson was plain, she was still a beauty, and with the Jade Qilin as her opponent, the cheers had been even more enthusiastic. Since the disciple had covered her face, people assumed she must be ugly, which explained the lack of support.
Though Seomun Su-rin was long accustomed to how women were treated in the martial world, she couldn't help worrying that her disciple might feel disheartened before the match even began.
Seomun Cheong didn't care in the slightest. She simply waited calmly, thinking, As expected, Shaolin is popular. Even the past Cheong, who had known nothing of Murim or martial arts, had been aware that Shaolin Temple was home to martial monks. If even she knew that, how much more so the people of the Central Plains?
Though where did this common knowledge about Shaolin martial arts come from? It was strange how everyone seemed to know it.
Well, thinking about it won't give me an answer.
"I am Seomun Cheong of the Sinnyeo Sect."
"Amitabha. I am Wolbong of Shaolin."
Seomun Cheong finally got a proper look at Wolbong up close. He had carried himself with such dignity that he hadn't shown his face anywhere except during the tournament matches, and since Seomun Cheong had only socialized with her friends at Mucheon Pavilion, she had only seen him from the spectator stands.
Looking at him now, she thought, Hmm. He looks a bit old. Is he really a Hidden Dragon...? He appeared to be in his mid-thirties at a glance, which seemed a bit old for the junior division. Though if that was the case, she herself wasn't in a position to criticize, having registered as a twenty-year-old this year. She knew full well that a little age fudging could be excused if one insisted.
Wolbong would have been mortified if he'd known her thoughts. After all, he was only twenty-seven this year—a young man in his prime. Moreover, Shaolin's young disciples tended to age faster due to the extremely rigorous external training they underwent from a young age. Wolbong was simply an extreme case.
Whether he knew of her rude thoughts or not, Wolbong continued performing the half-palm salute as he spoke.
"I shall yield the first move to you, Almswoman."
"I won't refuse. Here I come!"
With that, Seomun Cheong powerfully stamped her foot forward.