Chapter 199
CHAPTER 199: Shaolin (5)
The underground passage ran deep.
Yet the ceiling was embedded with glowing orbs strung together at regular intervals.
“Whoa, are those all night pearls?”
It was the classic glowing gem from wuxia tales—night pearls.
Gems said to cost as much as a decent manor, spaced one per zhang along the ceiling.
[What kind of monks are this rich?]
“A regular temple, maybe, but this is the Shaolin Temple. Their annual donations alone could buy a whole city.”
Until now, I'd been floating along to avoid kicking up dust and leaving traces, but there was no time for that.
I switched to lightfoot techniques and dashed forward.
[That's not ordinary lightfoot work. It's just brute-forcing inner energy into your feet.]
'But it's fast, right?'
To martial artists, it might look crude enough to click their tongues in disapproval, but honestly, at this speed, I'd shatter every modern track record back home.
Doping? No way it'd flag.
Not a drug to begin with.
'Wait, would divine pills count as doping?'
Silly thought, but it kinda felt like they might.
To save time, I kept deploying the Time Wheel Jade, reabsorbing it at my limit, then redeploying as I ran.
'How long has it been?'
Subjectively, about five minutes.
[By your time standard, around 20 seconds.]
'...Thanks. You're the best.'
[I know.]
Soon enough, iron bars blocked the passage, chained and padlocked tight.
[Would've needed a key or to cut through. Either way, leaves traces.]
Obviously, I blinked right past with ease.
“Blocking it like that means we're almost there.”
Sure enough.
A few steps later, a small chamber appeared.
About the size of a basketball court.
[Books?]
Bookshelves crammed the space—but not packed tight like a library.
More like displayed with covers facing out.
Chains bound them, preventing theft.
[Books down here?]
“Classic setup. Martial arts manuals.”
[Shaolin's?]
“No way. Their arts are in the Sutra Pavilion, even the Seventy-Two Special Skills.”
[Then what are these?]
“Forbidden books. Demonic arts, unorthodox stuff.”
Pure wuxia cliché.
Righteous Shaolin safeguards justice and peace, punishing evildoers with one crime, a hundred executions.
Hence phrases like “opening the slaying precept,” as Gong-a had said.
But slaying those fiends doesn't end it.
Like cockroaches, they cling to life, leaving heirs or manuals behind.
So Shaolin collects them all.
To prevent future chaos.
“Didn't expect this many, though.”
Hundreds at a glance.
Each with a small nameplate, like before.
[Real demonic arts. Dark Shadow True Scripture—hiding in shadows.]
Pa Cheon had flown over to check a book.
Freely wielding the Domination intent was one thing, but flipping ancient pages?
Like using a 100kg iron chopstick to pick up beans—a superhuman feat.
Anyway.
[Chaos Ghost Art. Cult stuff! Even includes Soul-Rending Palm?]
Grand names like “chaos,” soul-shredding techniques. Terrifying demonic arts at first glance.
But...
“All empty. Figures it'd be demonic arts.”
[Tell me about it.]
Problem was, we had zero use for demonic arts.
Cult's overflowing with them anyway.
Sado Gwang's research chamber on arts and bodies was intact.
Its high-quality(?) demonic manuals wouldn't pale next to these.
Plus, Pa Cheon—due to its sealed meridians—studied theory nonstop.
Demonic arts expert.
[Non-inner arts are useless too. Asura Demon Emperor Divine Art's Asura Twelve Forms is flawless, even Kwak Ri Yeon approved. No mixing needed.]
Above all.
[Even if learned, Heavenly Demon Divine Art won't allow it.]
The Heavenly Demon Divine Art rules all demonic energies.
Arrogant, finicky, willful.
Even if my control improved and it somewhat obeyed my will, there's a line.
It won't tolerate squatters in its domain.
“Orthodox arts would've helped.”
[Yeah. Could've pieced together something decent. Hmm? This one?]
Pa Cheon pointed with its tip.
“Latent Blood Burst Art?”
[Feels like Blood Burst Jade, right?]
“You want me dead?”
[What?]
“Check it. I can guess without looking.”
[What's it say?]
“Probably that type. Ignite latent power for a realm-transcending burst, but backlash shreds your true essence, aging you to dust.”
[...]
Who am I?
A wuxia veteran reader.
Latent Blood Burst Art-style self-destruct arts are cliché.
[Similar to your guess, but exploitable.]
“Exploitable?”
[It reverses inner energy flow momentarily, clashing with forward flow for explosion.]
“Meridians turn to rags, bonus.”
[But true essence permeates blood far more.]
“...You're right. Exploit potential.”
Blood Burst Jade was weak.
Tree-smashing at best.
Because I couldn't yet condense inner energy to a point.
Mastering this might fix that.
[Used sparingly, Heavenly Demon Divine Art heals meridian damage.]
“Use the Diamond Needle-reinforced right arm meridians. Toughest spot.”
Right arm's Black Flame Dragon complete.
“How to take it? Already delayed.”
[Take? What?]
“The book. To learn.”
[Already memorized.]
“...Right. Underestimated you again.”
[Put it back.]
I replaced the book.
Then.
“Hm?”
Spotting the gap, I glimpsed the next shelf. Something off.
I checked it out.
Pa Cheon followed.
We both froze, like hammered on the head.
A slot empty where a book should be.
“Huh? Why's this here?”
The nameplate read: Heubseong Daebeop.
Star Absorption Great Law.
Absorbs foes' energy wholesale.
Similar to Pa Cheon Sword's function.
And—
[Heavenly Demon manual in Shaolin...]
Heubseong Daebeop was the 4th Heavenly Demon Cheon Yu-hak's unique art.
Why Do Il Gwang mistook me for true successor.
And it was stored in Shaolin.
“4th Heavenly Demon, total troll.”
[Troll?]
“Wrecks allies, not enemies.”
Cheon Yu-hak went mad, died rampaging; both arts lost.
Somehow, Heubseong Daebeop reached Shaolin.
Heavenly Demon Divine Art hit Sado Family.
“If not for his deviation into devil, none of this mess.”
[So where's Heubseong Daebeop?]
“Burned.”
Perfect ash pile below.
And—
“Replaced with this.”
[Mask?]
A thin white mask, hair-thin, paper-light.
I pressed it to my face without hesitation.
[Fool! You don't know what—!]
That instant.
Crunch, twist.
My face contorted with grinding sounds.
No pain. Just “oh, mask's reshaping my face.”
After seconds of writhing, it stilled.
[...Fool, your face...?]
“How's it look?”
[Voice changed?]
I hunched slightly, plastered on a goofy grin, raised my pitch.
“Family head! You called?”
[T-Tak Horak?]
Yep.
Face and voice perfectly Tak Horak's.
“This is the Cheonbyeon Myeon-gu. Changes face and voice to anyone you think of! Thought it was abbot's private item!”
Thousand Changes Face Mask.
Treasure for perfect disguise.
“Good, right?”
[Beyond good. Indistinguishable. Knew you acted well, but with face and voice? Impossible.]
“Observation's key to acting. Mimic speech easy. Same gender limit, but enough.”
I peeled it off; face reverted.
[Why's such treasure here?]
Gut said: someone like me came, took Heubseong Daebeop, left this instead.
Reasons later. Pocket the mask.
Already juggling two roles with one face; this expands options.
Unexpected haul.
[Hurry. Too delayed.]
“Got a way.”
I tapped the mask, grinning.
Gongjin paced in anxiety.
'What to do?'
One dahyung passed since entry.
Relief shift soon; risk skyrockets.
'Go first?'
Pre-arranged: if delayed or caught, flee without looking back.
'But how can one abandon so easily?'
Gongjin wasn't that ruthless.
'A bit longer. Just a bit.'
Pacing and muttering, he finally bit his lip and decided to leave.
He doffed his hat, flipped his night clothes inside out. Thief gone; proper Shaolin monk appeared.
If caught during shift, could bluff through.
'Sorry, Eastern Sword Dragon layman.'
Underground level 3, 2, 1.
Guards twitched, stirring.
Gongjin slipped past quietly to surface.
Peering out—
“Who's there?”
Caught.
Senior brothers on level 1 guard.
Missed them, hidden behind stairs, far from Four Heavenly Kings statues.
But they looked more terrified than him.
Gongjin, sweating, then—
“Haha, greetings, juniors.”
“Senior Brother Gongjin? Why here?”
“Well...”
Pointing to puffy eyes.
“Senior Brother Gong-a did this. You know him.”
“Gasp! Then tell the masters?”
“Shh!”
Finger to lips.
“You know Gong-a's temper. Want this?”
“No way.”
“Then quiet. If I'm here stays secret, no issue. Absolutely. Unless you want this.”
“Got it.”
“Why the cold sweats?”
“Uh... ghost h—”
Small monk cut off by burly one's hand.
“N-nothing. Hot day.”
“Boring. I'll go. More witnesses?”
Chattering to hide shaking legs, Gongjin exited.
“You mad? If masters hear, 'Heh, lacking discipline,' special training! Scarier than ghosts!”
“Then how'd Four Heavenly Kings move alone? That heavy thing.”
“Uh... anyway! Wait for relief!”
Arguing, they spotted inky blue qi rising from stairs.
“Wh-who's there?! What!?”
Back-turned figure slowly pivoted.
“Hahaha. Me.”
Gongjin.
Instantly—
“Gh-ghost.”
“Ghost!”
Foaming, they collapsed.
“...What?”
Gongjin—no, masked Dong Yun—was baffled but couldn't delay.
His ghostly form vanished from Discipline Courtyard.