197. Shaolin (3)
“Hwa-yeon. Is it really you, Hwa-yeon?”
Gong-a—no, Hwarang—cupped Sa Wol’s face in both hands as he spoke.
The woman who had gone by the name Sa Wol, having forgotten her true one, now answered as Hwa-yeon.
“Oppa… Oppa!”
“Hwa-yeon!”
The two embraced once more.
As if to confirm that the person before them wasn’t some mirage, as if to reaffirm the warmth of that body heat and the feel of it all over again.
A complex swirl of emotions filled the depths of Hwarang’s eyes.
Deep longing, regret, remorse, sorrow, joy, grief.
Not a single one lacked intensity—they churned like a storm.
“Hwa-yeon… Hwa-yeon.”
Hwarang’s lips trembled as he called her name. He was afraid that if he spoke too loudly, she might vanish like a ghost.
“Oppa. I’m Oppa’s little sister, Hwa-yeon. I’m right here.”
“You’re… you’re alive. You’ve been alive all this time.”
Sa Wol nodded, her face brimming with tears, warmed by the hand stroking her back. Her throat tightened; no more words would come.
Seeing this, Hwarang pulled her into another embrace.
“I’m sorry, Hwa-yeon. Your oppa is so sorry.”
Only after repeating “I’m sorry” for what felt like an hour did Hwarang finally release her from his arms.
“Hwa-yeon.”
“Oppa.”
“You… you grew up so well. You really did.”
But the moment he realized her hand in his was rough and callused, Hwarang’s heart shattered anew.
“You’ve suffered… so much.”
Though a Shaolin monk, Hwarang was a martial artist who had reached profound heights. He could tell just from touching her hand.
For a woman’s hands to become so rough, she must have endured countless trials and tribulations.
And the shape of the calluses on her palms.
They were the kind formed from gripping short daggers or concealed weapons.
She had survived by clawing through fields of slaughter.
“I’m sorry, Hwa-yeon. I never should have left you behind.”
“No, Oppa.”
Sa Wol shook her head.
“Your choice was the right one. We’ve reunited like this, haven’t we?”
“You rascal.”
Hwarang ruffled her hair, just like he used to when she’d chased butterflies as a child and come back with scraped knees, pouting.
Sa Wol smiled through her puffy, tear-streaked eyes.
“Now our eyes are finally level, right?”
“You’re still a little kid to me, Hwa-yeon. When did you grow up so much?”
“Just like you said—eat well, sleep well, and I shot up like a weed.”
“Such a cheeky one. You rascal.”
Sa Wol was utterly transformed from the stoic woman who had gone by Sa Wol.
“What on earth happened? How have you been all this time? How did you end up coming all the way out here?”
“That’s…”
Sa Wol’s gaze turned backward, to where her liege lord stood.
“He’s the one who helped me…”
Following her eyes to Sado Hwan’s face, Hwarang’s expression hardened in an instant.
How could he ever forget that loathsome visage?
It was an enmity carved into his bones, a grudge that would linger even in death.
In his memories, the man had been a frail cripple leaning on a wheelchair, but somehow he stood whole and hale now.
He must have used some vile trick, just as he had lusted after Hwa-yeon.
“Sado Gwang. So it was you in the end!”
In that moment, Hwarang’s voluminous monk robes began flapping wildly, as if possessed.
And the next instant—
Ku-woong!
The moment he stomped his foot, a surge of tremendous energy erupted from his fist—like a beam of golden light blasting forth.
Baekbo Singwon!
Named for its ability to strike from a hundred paces away, one of Shaolin’s famed 72 Supreme Arts unfolded from Hwarang’s hand.
As clichéd as it sounded, the force was staggering, hurtling toward Sado Hwan like a cannon blast.
Yet Sado Hwan merely tilted his head slightly to the left, effortlessly dodging the blow.
“Oppa! Wait—!”
Sa Wol tried to stop him, but Hwarang—eyes rolled back in monkish fury—couldn’t hear her pleas.
On the contrary—
“You fiend! Today I shall break my precepts and settle this worldly grudge!”
Hwarang stomped again, dropping into a horse stance.
Baekbo Singwon.
Baekryeon Nan-ta.
One of its forms: unleashing a hundred punches, each tempered like a blade through a hundred forgings.
Each fist carried enough power to shatter boulders and crumple steel—a hundred of them meant devastation beyond measure.
A storm!
The energies bursting from his fists coalesced into a tempest.
To this, Sado Hwan—
Swish.
—simply extended his hand slowly.
From his seemingly elegant fingertips, droplets of blood suddenly sprayed forth.
Ku-woong!
An iron wall of Guardian Armored Rings rose right before Sado Hwan.
Tatata-tang!
Hwarang’s barrage rained down on the Guardian Armored Rings’ barrier. Naturally, it blocked every strike without fail.
“Cloud Demon Iron?!”
Hwarang spat in shock, biting his lip before clasping his hands in prayer.
In that instant, a hazy illusion began to rise behind him.
Simsang.
The phenomenon visible only to Super Peak masters was unfolding.
It was a Buddha.
But not a benevolent one smiling serenely. Its face was closer to a wrathful deity, wreathed in raging flames.
“Ah…”
Sa Wol sighed at the sight.
That Buddha wasn’t surrounded by fire.
It was burning in it.
What was a simsang?
A martial artist’s life trajectory, their traces, their memories.
How could a Buddha wear such an expression of agony?
It was the weight of the karma Hwarang bore.
“You fiend!”
The moment Hwarang moved to attack again—
Hwaaak!
A sun bloomed in Sa Wol’s palm.
“…!”
And in that instant.
The flames tormenting the Buddha were sucked away, drawn toward Sa Wol’s sun as if inhaled.
Soon—
Hwaruruk!
Sa Wol’s sun shone even more brilliantly. At the same time, the Buddha’s twisted face eased into a serene smile.
It was a miracle beyond words.
Only now could Sa Wol name the simsang she had never fully formed before.
“Gwangmyeong Taeyang.”
The sun born of Gwangmyeongseongga blood purified sins and quelled rage—a holy sun.
Her imperfect simsang had reached completion by absorbing her brother’s karma.
“Oppa.”
Was it the power of Gwangmyeong Taeyang? Hwarang’s fury-cooled face grew calm.
“It’s a misunderstanding. He’s not Sado Gwang. He’s Sado Hwan, the new head of Sado Ga, and…”
Sa Wol spoke with utter conviction in her eyes.
“My liege lord.”
At those words, Hwarang looked back and forth between Sado Hwan and Sa Wol.
Soon, he pressed his palms together toward Sado Hwan and bowed deeply.
“I offer my deepest apologies. My eyes were narrower than a needle’s hole—I attacked without verifying.”
Sado Hwan replied.
“It’s fine.”
He said it was fine, but inwardly he was screaming, Like hell it is, you lunatic.
What kind of monk leads with his fists when he’s pissed?
And Baekbo Singwon, of all things.
Firing off one of wuxia’s iconic ultimate techniques without a word.
‘Breaking precepts to settle a grudge’—insane.
It was always a laugh line in novels. How does a monk so boldly declare he’s gonna kill?
But experiencing it firsthand? Cold sweat city.
[It’s no match for Hwasan’s flashy, intricate style, but each blow packs a real wallop.]
Of course, Pa Cheon had timely deployed the Time Wheel Jade’s power, making evasion a breeze—but that didn’t mean it wasn’t tense.
If he hadn’t hurriedly summoned Heavenly Demon Divine Art energy, he might’ve stumbled back in disgrace.
Plus, Gong-a was Sa Wol’s family, alright—Super Peak, no less.
If Sa Wol hadn’t intervened, it would’ve been a disaster. He couldn’t beat a Super Peak master if he died and came back ten times.
[Simsangs influencing each other like that. A true marvel.]
‘Yeah.’
It was a phenomenon never even mentioned in Murim Returner—totally new.
But he could guess why.
Simsang was a warrior’s life.
The scars they’d left on each other had healed through reunion, reshaping their simsangs in turn.
And what made it possible? Sa Wol’s absurd talent, naturally.
Plus, she’d completed her own half-formed simsang in the process.
Even incomplete, it had shown near-miraculous power—now with wings? Her strength was beyond guessing.
Anyway.
Gong-a apologized again.
“No need. My eyes were clouded for a moment.”
He looked just like Sa Wol, but the bald head made it kinda funny, so Sado Hwan spoke firmly instead.
“I won’t accept further apologies.”
No need for rivers-and-lakes courtesy. Gong-a was here as Hwarang anyway.
“Allow a formal introduction. I am Sado Hwan, head of Asura Sado Ga.”
“Hoo.”
Gong-a exhaled deeply, then met his eyes with a different light.
“Hwarang, young lord of Gwangmyeongseongga.”
The worldly name he’d forgotten.
It emerged from Gong-a’s lips once more.
Perhaps due to the gap in station—head versus young lord—Gong-a spoke formally to him.
“I assume you’ve come all this way from afar for a reason.”
Sado Hwan nodded at his words.
“Indeed.”
“But seonghwa is impossible. Then, now, and always.”
“What kinda nonsense is that? Seonghwa? Not interested.”
Liar—he was extremely interested.
Seonghwa might fix this body’s constitution.
…Slim chance, though. Even seonghwa probably couldn’t overcome Heavenly Demon Divine Art’s rejection.
But if there was even a sliver of possibility, wasn’t it worth trying?
Still, he had keen interest in seonghwa. But negotiation 101: act.
Nothing more disadvantageous than seeming desperate.
“I merely wished to restore my retainer’s flesh and blood.”
[The guy who was fretting over Sa Wol leaving now says that?]
‘Yup. I’m Sa Wol TOEIC 900. If she was gonna bail, she wouldn’t have stopped him.’
[That’s what you called overconfidence last time.]
‘Yup. I’m wrong. See?’
“…!”
Sure enough, Sa Wol’s eyes widened at his words. She was clearly deeply moved.
“So, Sa Wol. Spend some quality time with your brother.”
“…As you command.”
With that, he turned, robes billowing dramatically.
‘Pretty cool, right?’
[Stop posing.]
‘Heavenly Demon Divine Art side effect. For real.’
…It was.
Back at his quarters in Jami Hall, Sado Hwan soon heard a tap at the window.
There stood a masked figure who screamed “suspicious”—bald head gleaming under the moonlight.
“You’re here, Gongjin.”
“Shh. I’m Muyoung Sintu.”
“Cover your head first.”
Why pair Gong-a with Sa Wol?
To rack up points with her, obviously.
Time for his reward after all that effort.
The possessor’s—
[Petty mindset. Sometimes you act like the world’s yours for the taking.]
‘Average possessor move. The Yaoxian elixir was prepped by the First Heavenly Demon for me anyway.’
[True enough. Just don’t get caught.]
And so, slipping through the shadows with Gongjin,
he ransacked the Precepts Hall.
Pretending to Be the Heavenly Demon