Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: That Monk's Circumstances
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Two shadows cleaved through the waves, staggering onto the shore. It was Hyeon-gak and Dang Yak-ran.
Yeom Jin-sang stiffened in shock.
Right now, he was a Demonic Cultist. In this situation, the arrival of enemies rather than allies was far from ideal.
"Damn it, why did those two show up first?"
Heuk Do-san tilted his head.
"Something's off."
The level of Hyeon-gak's internal energy that he had gauged was a notch above Dang Yak-ran's. Yet their simultaneous arrival meant Hyeon-gak hadn't abandoned her to the end.
No matter how much a monk practiced compassion, it wasn't easy to risk one's own life to save another. There was just one possible explanation.
"Women and their faces, huh..."
The pair collapsed onto the land the moment they reached it, just as Heuk Do-san and Yeom Jin-sang had done, passing out as if struck dead. Their limbs trembled violently, like the convulsions of the dying.
Heuk Do-san spoke coldly.
"Hey, you two. This isn't the time to pass out. If you don't want to freeze to death, drag yourselves over here by the fire and faint properly."
Stung by his words, Hyeon-gak mustered his remaining strength to support Dang Yak-ran.
He dragged her along like a sack and tossed her by the campfire. Then he himself flopped down with a thud, gasping for breath.
"We thought you'd turned into fish food since you didn't show up for so long..."
"The firelight served as our beacon. My thanks."
"Anyone can stuff their face with empty words."
"This is no empty flattery. If you go first, I'll recite sutras before the Buddha and pray for your fortune in the afterlife."
"Are you banging that wooden fish to make me die first?"
Heuk Do-san furrowed his brow.
"What do you mean? With the Buddha watching over me at all times, I'll outlive you lot anyway. Just like today. Amitabha."
"Frustrating. First off, this monk survived by sheer luck—land happened to be nearby at that moment. Pure heavenly fortune. Second, it's because this monk never slacked in his training. Luck is seventy percent, skill thirty. The world's affairs ride on luck, with personal talent just tagging along. Buddha my ass."
"Had I not taken refuge in the Buddha, I wouldn't have trained so diligently. Likewise, without His mercy, land wouldn't have appeared right then. Namu Amitabha, Kwanseum Bosal."
"Then keep banging that wooden fish."
Heuk Do-san turned away.
* * *
Dang Yak-ran's state was pitiful.
Her disheveled hair draped like seaweed, and her wet clothes clung to her body, revealing glimpses of skin as white as pear blossoms.
She, the prized daughter of the Tang Clan of Sichuan, could never have imagined herself in such a state, warming herself by a fire lit by strangers.
Her gaze turned to Heuk Do-san.
"It's thanks to him."
The campfire had been their beacon amid the lost wanderings of the night sea, and now it thawed their chilled bodies after escaping the waves.
She could say it with certainty.
"Without that fire, we'd all be dead."
The mere thought was astonishing. To sustain a flame for half a day with mere sticks—while swimming across the sea, no less.
As Dang Yak-ran pondered this, Hyeon-gak suddenly spoke up.
"By the way, where are the other two?"
"They haven't arrived yet."
Heuk Do-san replied, poking at the fire. He cast another glance toward the sea.
The night was pitch black, waves towering—no way to spot human shadows.
"It's been over one sichen since we lit the fire. Give it another sichen—if they don't show by then, assume they're dead."
Hyeon-gak's expression darkened coldly. The four days spent together on the junk flashed by like a lantern show.
While Heuk Do-san slept cozily wrapped in sails, they had spent the nights in tense standoffs.
The stars that seemed ready to pour down, the commotion of the stormy night—it all felt as vivid as yesterday.
And now, with the frigid night sea between them, life and death diverged. As Heuk Do-san said, enough time had passed already.
If alive, they'd be enduring hell; if dead, sinking deep into the sea. Perhaps already sunk.
"Amitabha."
Had some affection formed in the meantime?
Hyeon-gak felt pity for the two.
He'd called them mongrels, but they were people who felt pain from sword cuts and grief from losing kin.
"No, that's not it."
Hyeon-gak snapped to his senses.
How many Righteous Alliance brothers had lost their lives to those vile Demonic Cult mongrels?
They'd been mortal enemies for the past decade—yet after a mere four nights, to feel compassion?
"Hyeon-gak, how will you avenge your master and martial uncles with such a weak spirit? Have you already forgotten the vow you made ten years ago when leaving the mountain gate, to bear the fires of hell upon your shoulders?"
Suppose the positions were reversed: they reached land first, while he and Dang Yak-ran still floundered in the cold sea. That Gong Cheon-ak bastard would surely burst into fiendish laughter.
Moreover, there was no proof they'd died yet. If they returned alive? They'd had no choice but to coexist on the ship, but on land, it was different.
They had to settle the postponed duel. Righteous Alliance and Demonic Cult were irreconcilable mortal foes.
"We must prepare."
Come to think of it, something was off.
Hyeon-gak slowly turned his gaze to Yeom Jin-sang. The man who had fought the icy waters and waves to arrive ahead of him and Dang Yak-ran. No nameless Demonic Cult grunt could pull that off.
"That bastard was hiding his martial arts!"
Alertness surged within him.
This moment, with the Demonic Cultists separated, was the perfect chance. Strike when each weary one reached shore, and they could eliminate them all.
"We eliminate him now."
"Why is this bastard staring at me?"
Sensing Hyeon-gak's gaze, Yeom Jin-sang flinched. A bad feeling. In such cases, best to evade.
"Oh dear, we're short on firewood."
Yeom Jin-sang sprang up and vanished into the darkness like a fleeing shadow.
"Hm? He caught on? But it's not over. I can tail him quietly and take him out."
"Aigoo, gotta take a piss."
Hyeon-gak grabbed a stick and rose smoothly. Then Heuk Do-san's words halted him.
"That's a bad idea."
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"You know damn well, playing dumb."
"Amitabha, some misunderstanding..."
"Either ditch the cassock or cultivate some Buddha-mind. A Shaolin monk who jumps at killing at the drop of a hat—what good is that? No wonder they call you doljung."
"Loose lips sinking ships..."
"If you leave, that girl is alone."
"......!"
He meant Dang Yak-ran.
Hyeon-gak's mind cleared in a flash.
If Gong Cheon-ak survived and emerged while he was gone, he'd try to eliminate her for the same reason. With Dang Yak-ran's skills, she couldn't last five exchanges against Gong Cheon-ak.
"That was close."
But only for a moment. Hyeon-gak turned back to Heuk Do-san.
"It's not just them who's dangerous."
"......?"
"I need to know your identity. And spare me the amnesia nonsense."
"A threat?"
"An unknown is more dangerous than a clear enemy."
"I lit the fire so you could escape the sea. Need more explanation?"
"Whose fire matters, doesn't it?"
"So if it's not for you, you'll eliminate me?"
"I merely asked your identity."
"And if I don't reveal it?"
"I'll make you talk."
"And if I don't to the end?"
"I'll assume Demonic Cultist."
"You offered prayers for my fortune—turns out it was all calculated."
Heuk Do-san rose smoothly.
Their gazes locked.
Hyeon-gak felt as if two sword tips were aimed at him, a shocking impact.
Just from the stare, chills pierced his spine. This was different from the killing intent of martial masters.
"War Sword?"
Battle-forged swordsmanship, born in fields where life and death were daily routine.
They said deep mastery let one thrust sword tips into foes' eyes with a mere glance.
Killing countless foes naturally imbued the body with murderous aura.
This man, Heuk Do-san, clearly practiced War Sword. No telling his level, but the moment a sword entered his hand, he'd become a merciless killing machine.
Hyeon-gak was a warrior to the bone. A disciple of the revered Shaolin Temple, unyielding bastion of the martial world, and no mere monk but one of the 18 Arhats.
Facing a War Sword master he'd only heard of ignited an indescribable fighting spirit.
In a clash between Shaolin's thousand-year martial legacy and battlefield-honed practical swordsmanship—which would prevail?
"Amitabha. Grant me a lesson."
Hyeon-gak gripped the stick with both hands, raising it to his forehead in the martial salute known as the sword-wrapping form. Only here, it was a stick instead of a sword.
Heuk Do-san dropped his hands downward, then spread them wide left and right.
Somehow, unnoticed, a dagger filled his left hand, an axe his right.
The air around them froze with a sharp crackle.
Killing intent poured from both men. Unable to withstand their mighty auras, the campfire flickered wildly.
Distance: a mere half zhang.
No need for footwork. The instant hands moved, life-or-death clash; victory decided in a blink. Then—
"Both of you, stop it!"
Dang Yak-ran leaped between them. She turned to Hyeon-gak.
"Let's warm up first."
Then to Heuk Do-san.
"If you don't want to reveal your identity, don't. Satisfied now?"
"Can't back out now saying you're against it. If we don't settle this clearly, no guarantee that doljung won't ambush me later."
"Hyeon-gak is an honorable warrior. He's fierce by nature, but not one for cowardly sneak attacks. I guarantee it."
"Guarantee?"
"Impossible as it is, if he tries to ambush you, I'll stop him. Fail, and you can have an arm of mine."
"My life's on the line, and you're wagering an arm."
"It's not my fight anyway. That should suffice as my promise to stand by my word, right?"
Heuk Do-san stared at Dang Yak-ran's face. Her lips trembled from cold yet babbled defiantly—adorably biteable.
"Answer me. Right?"
A woman's eyes are like a well.
Gaze too long, and one feels the urge to dive in heedlessly.
Prettier the face, more those eyes fix on you, stronger the pull.
"Don't fall for it."
"Fine. What good's a spindly arm like a skewer? Chicken wing at best—I'd roast it."
Dang Yak-ran startled, hugging her arms. She glared at Heuk Do-san with chilly yet provocative eyes.
Heuk Do-san sheathed the dagger and axe at his waist, then plopped down. Hyeon-gak still clutched the stick tightly.
But Heuk Do-san showed no concern for Hyeon-gak whatsoever.
Hyeon-gak felt confused.
"He doesn't see me as a threat."
Without clashing hands, he couldn't gauge the exact skill. Yet he sensed he'd lose if they fought.
But as challenger, his position differed from Heuk Do-san's. Having boldly provoked, sitting back as if nothing happened bruised his pride.
"Still gotta piss, though."
He grabbed his crotch and toddled off. Heuk Do-san tilted his head.
Surely pissed enough swimming the sea—what's he on about?
"Must be a shit."
Now only Heuk Do-san and Dang Yak-ran remained by the fire. Still chilled from the sea, Dang Yak-ran huddled tightly.
Heuk Do-san tossed in a couple more sticks and stirred the flames. That would build the heat quickly.
Dang Yak-ran glanced up at him briefly. After an awkward silence, she asked.
"Back on the junk, first time I saw you. Why'd you stare at me so long?"
When women ask this, men usually say, "You resembled a woman I once knew."
Idiots. Thinking it sounds profound.
Heuk Do-san was a different breed.
"Your hair covered half your face. Had to look closely. Gotta know what you look like, right?"
"And?"
"What?"
"What'd you think of my face?"
Heuk Do-san widened his eyes like a titmouse.
What the hell's this earthworm snapping its waist?