The Buddha Is Far, but the Burrs Are Near
At that moment, an unyielding force tore the young girl from the desert sands, breaking her trance as she stared down at the approaching legs.
Suspended in the air by that relentless grip, she could only watch as the desert receded—and with it, the subterranean village that had been exposed all because of her.
The power dragging her away belonged to a woman, who swiftly carried the girl to a house perched on the outskirts of the settlement.
Inside, the woman grasped the girl by both shoulders, urgently imparting instructions in a tongue that was not of the Central Plains, before hiding her away in the dark.
Moments later.
A muffled clamor began filtering into her ears: shouting, screams, and the harsh clash of steel.
Horrified by the gruesome din, the girl clapped both hands over her ears in a desperate bid to shut out reality. Yet her small, fern-like hands were powerless to keep the violence at bay.
Worse still, the darkness before her eyes acted like a vast canvas, painting the most savage purgatory she could fathom. Even with her eyes clamped shut, an inescapable hell burned against her retinas.
Before long.
Everything fell unnervingly, impossibly silent.
Creeping cautiously out of the gloom, the girl looked around. No one was there.
The house was merely in slightly greater disarray than before.
Stepping outside, she surveyed her surroundings, then began to walk slowly toward the village square.
Hyeonam Seonsa truly possessed a gift for teaching—enough to justify his soaring self-regard.
"People often say our staff techniques are exceedingly profound because of their centuries of history," he explained. "Yet the essence of Shaolin martial arts, staff techniques included, boils down to a single principle: movement like water, stillness like a mirror, response like an echo."
He laid out the core principles of Shaolin arts, a discipline notorious for demanding the cultivation of both literary scholarship and martial prowess, making high attainment exceptionally difficult.
He then narrowed the scope of their lesson, declaring that they only needed to learn the aspect of 'movement' for now, before promptly demonstrating several stances from the Bodhidharma Hall's Demon-Subduing Fist.
Eun Ae-hyang and I replicated the forms without trouble. Yeong Yeong, however, seemed to struggle.
Her arms trembled at the transition of every movement, as though she were wearing clothes tailored for someone else entirely.
Instinctively, as I always did on Mount Wudang, I walked over to adjust her posture.
"Thank you, Sahyeong."
"If your balance is wobbling this badly, why did you insist on learning?"
"Well... it's partly my fault that things turned out this way."
"Ho-ho! What could a young man and woman possibly have so much to whisper about in the middle of a Shaolin lesson?"
Hyeonam Seonsa called out with a chuckle, having watched us from a distance.
"...As her senior brother, I am merely correcting my junior sister's form."
"Mm, yes, touching camaraderie."
Don't overthink his reaction, I told myself. Don't let his comments rattle my composure.
Returning to my spot, I resumed practicing the forms, but a prickling chill soon settled on my side.
I turned my head. Eun Ae-hyang was staring blankly at me.
"...What?"
"Nothing."
She tore her gaze away and resumed her practice. Yet the crisp, clean stances she had executed just moments before were suddenly falling apart.
Why was she rattling like a loose-wheeled cart all of a sudden?
Wobbling through her uncharacteristically sloppy movements, she glanced back at me.
What? Why? What do you want?
"...My goodness."
"What?"
"Could you happen to be Daoist Cheongun, the peerless genius of the Wudang Sect? Would you be so kind as to grace me with your guidance and see if my form is correct?"
...A shiver ran down my spine. My face twisted into visceral revulsion.
That tone isn't Eun Ae-hyang. My Eun Ae-hyang would never speak like that.
A moment later, feeling embarrassed, she narrowed her eyes into a fierce glare.
"...Are you going to fix my stance or not?"
I let out a resigned sigh, stepping over to correct the awkward angles in her posture as she moved through the forms.
Hyeonam Seonsa observed us quietly, then remarked:
"Have the two of you been close companions since childhood, sharing every hardship and joy?"
"We have."
"Hmm. How amusing."
Don't analyze the meaning behind those words. Don't wonder why he's anticipating the future.
I am a wooden dummy. I am a wooden dummy.
Soon enough, once we had grown accustomed to the forms, Hyeonam Seonsa approached me and proposed a spar.
"Since you seem to have committed the forms to memory, we should test them in simulated combat."
By his suggestion, we split into pairs: Hyeonam Seonsa and I, and Eun Ae-hyang and Yeong Yeong.
"Tonight I am the teacher, so I shall gladly yield the first strike. Come at me whenever you are ready."
Swallowing hard, I watched the elder stand with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for my attack.
For an opening gambit, clearing a path was the obvious choice.
Assuming the Diamond Stance, I unleashed the third form: Buddha Points the Way.
True to its name, I thrust my fist forward like the Buddha carving a path through the worldly afflictions of sentient beings, landing it squarely on Hyeonam Seonsa's body.
A blinding jolt of agony shot through my hand, feeling as though I had punched a rugged boulder with bare knuckles. Hyeonam Seonsa, on the other hand, merely looked down at me without a twitch in his posture or a flicker in his expression.
My eyes widened.
Even though I hadn't learned the internal cultivation method and thus struck without internal energy... to think he hadn't budged in the slightest.
Seeing my reaction, Hyeonam Seonsa chuckled.
"Hmm. Quite a solid strike, considering there was no inner energy behind it."
"...You could at least change your expression before saying that."
"Hahaha! Well then, is it my turn?"
The leisurely amusement in his eyes flared with sharp light as he drew a deep breath. Sensing danger, I sprang backward to put distance between us.
Yet, anticipating my retreat, Hyeonam Seonsa leaped forward in the exact same breath, maintaining the gap.
"The form you just used, Buddha Points the Way... It embodies the Buddha carving a path in a realm where even crops know neither east nor west."
Midair, already locked into the Diamond Stance, he drove a straight punch toward me.
I raised my forearms just in time. The impact crashed through my guard with enough force to splinter ribs had I failed to block.
The sheer momentum hurled me backward across the distance I had just leaped. Hyeonam Seonsa lowered his fists, an easy smile returning to his face.
"Tell me, does it not vividly capture the Buddha's unshakeable resolve to attain truth, regardless of the obstacles?"
"...It feels more like the Buddha is far away, and the chestnut burrs are painfully close."
My retort seemed to please him. Without pause, he pressed forward, driving me back with a relentless barrage of the Demon-Subduing Fist.
For every step he advanced, I was forced to retreat one; for every two steps he took, I retreated two.
By the fourth exchange, however, a tangible thread of bloodlust began seeping into his strikes.
Though the darkness made it hard to see clearly, his skin also seemed darker than before.
At this rate, this spar wouldn't end until one of us was dead.
Suddenly, a jolt struck my spine. I glanced back to find a solid wall behind me. There was nowhere left to retreat.
Turning back, I saw Hyeonam Seonsa grinning—his flesh turned completely pitch-black, just as it had when he slaughtered Bunhyang.
Without internal cultivation, beating that with newly learned Shaolin external forms alone was impossible. Which meant...
I locked my eyes onto his incoming fist.
Just as the knuckles were about to cave in my skull, I shifted into the Flowing Cloud Footwork.
Yet I masked it so thoroughly that no one would recognize it as such.
As luck would have it, whenever I practiced the Flowing Cloud Footwork, there were transitions I had always found superfluous or unnatural. This was my chance to test them.
Omitting certain steps and altering angles, I wove a footwork that was the Flowing Cloud Footwork, yet distinctly was not.
Stepping toward his incoming punch, I slipped to the right instead of dodging left as the traditional form dictated.
Then, pivoting on my lead left foot, I stepped my right foot through five directions in quick succession—east, northeast, north, northwest, and west—scrambling his ability to predict my trajectory.
For the first time during our bout, the smile vanished from Hyeonam Seonsa's face, leaving his back completely exposed.
CRACK!
A thunderous boom shattered the air as his fist pulverized the wall into dust. Seizing the opening, I thrust my open palm toward his spine.
"Boy Stands Before Buddha!"
The form, representing a young novice standing before the Buddha during a game of hide-and-seek, struck Hyeonam Seonsa dead center.
"...Ugh!"
Catching him completely off guard, the blow froze his movement.
Had he cooled down a little? I asked cautiously.
"...Is this enough to satisfy the fruits of your instruction?"
"May I ask you one thing?"
"What is it?"
"That last footwork of yours... It belongs neither to Shaolin nor Wudang. What footwork was that?"
"Since Shaolin is the ancestral cradle of all martial arts, wouldn't any footwork devised within its principles naturally be Shaolin's as well?"
Form is emptiness, emptiness is form—this is precisely when one uses such Buddhist logic.
Hyeonam Seonsa offered no rebuttal. Instead, he slowly turned his head, his gaze locking with mine.
It was that look again.
The predatory stare of someone eyeing a delectable feast.
After studying me in silence for what felt like an eternity, he muttered under his breath:
"...No. Not yet."
"Pardon?"
His darkened skin had already faded back to its normal shade. Exhaling a long breath, he offered an easy smile.
"Pay it no mind. This is more than enough instruction for tonight."
Recognizing his words as the conclusion of our training, I clasped my hands in a formal martial salute.
"Thank you. I have learned a great deal."
Hyeonam Seonsa waved a dismissive hand.
"Only because you are exceptional. Well, since we are finished, let us see how the two young heroines fared."
I watched his retreating back as he led the way, my mind churning with uneasy thoughts.
Whatever this venerable monk harbored in his heart was immaterial. One thing, however, was abundantly clear: he possessed virtually zero interest in hunting down the remnants of the Demon Cult.
Whether that was Shaolin's official stance or Hyeonam Seonsa's rogue agenda, I couldn't say.
Following him to the clearing where the women had been sparring, we found Yeong Yeong sprawled flat on her back, gasping for breath, while Eun Ae-hyang stood waiting for us with absolute composure.
"Oh, you're back?"
"...Judging by the look of things, a complete and total victory. Naturally."
At my dry remark, Eun Ae-hyang beamed with unmasked pride, planting her hands on her hips and thrusting her chest forward.
Hey, you should be embarrassed! Your opponent is a greenhorn who hasn't even been on an escort mission yet.
Yeong Yeong forced words through her ragged, breathless pants.
"...I lost."
"Indeed. And what comes after 'I lost'?"
At Eun Ae-hyang's pointed query, Yeong Yeong let out a frustrated growl and bit her lower lip. After an agonizing pause, she finally spoke:
"...I lost, Big Sister."
...Good grief. Yeong Yeong calling someone she barely knew 'Big Sister'? What on earth did Eun Ae-hyang do to her?
My eyes went wide as I stared at Eun Ae-hyang. Catching my gaze, she placed both hands back on her hips, puffing her chest out even prouder than before.
Don't just pose! Explain!