111. Greetings
Bul Jon had promised an interesting story, and he delivered on it.
But to his listeners, it went beyond boring straight into sleep-inducing.
It was only entertaining by his standards.
Only Gong-u listened with a serious face, though to everyone else, it looked like pure pretense.
Well, considering Bul Jon's tremendous muscles, it was probably just survival instinct.
At least his voice boomed like a temple bell, keeping anyone from fully nodding off.
It would've been better if he'd spoken softer so they could at least doze.
Finally, unable to take it anymore, Jeong Gwang stepped in.
"Sunim-nim, it's not fun and just noisy."
"……!"
Everyone thought they'd misheard.
Even for Jeong Gwang, wasn't that too rude?!
'……No, if it's my sahyung……'
'……Yeah, Jin-ok-ryong would totally say that.'
Baek Seung-mu and Jao, well-trained by Jeong Gwang, nodded along before freezing.
Their faces drained of color in unison.
'Crazy!'
'Even for him, that's too much!'
But Bul Jon was Bul Jon.
True to his title, his expression remained utterly calm.
They sighed in relief—
'W-what's this energy?'
'Damn, no wonder he's pissed.'
Glancing with just their eyes, they saw Gong-u's monk robes flapping like they were caught in a gale.
He'd unleashed his inner power.
'That damned Jin-ok-ryong dares!'
Gong-u couldn't forgive Jeong Gwang's outrageous blasphemy against his sajo.
But a gesture from Bul Jon forced him to swallow his rage.
Smiling faintly, Bul Jon turned to Jeong Gwang.
"I was speaking as quietly and gently as I could."
"That's the problem with your 'as quietly as I could.'"
"Fine, set aside the voice. Be honest. Wasn't it pretty interesting?"
"……You're serious?"
"Hm. Maybe you found it boring because you didn't understand."
Jeong Gwang stared at Bul Jon in disbelief.
He looked completely sincere.
"Sigh. Let me sum it up short for you."
From Jeong Gwang's mouth flowed a condensed version of Bul Jon's tale.
It was ancient history from the Central Plains.
"……When Li Shimin, son of Li Yuan who rebelled against the Sui, was in danger in battle, Shaolin monks appeared and saved him. Later, when his clan toppled the Sui and founded the Tang, Emperor Taizong Li Shimin showered Shaolin with favors."
And not just any favors.
He granted official positions, permitted organized monk-soldier troops and training.
Even declared they could freely eat meat and drink, and wouldn't be punished for killing.
All etched into a stele by imperial decree—overkill for rewards.
"……Shaolin, receiving these unwanted gifts, became extremely cautious."
Shaolin was a temple devoted to Buddha.
They didn't eagerly embrace such excess and power.
"……But rejecting all that vast land and slaves would've been a shame…… They couldn't refuse, had to save face for Emperor Taizong."
"I said it clearly, but you skipped how they freed all the slaves."
"Most became tenant farmers since they had nowhere else to go."
"Slaves and tenant farmers are worlds apart."
"Fair enough. If they're still with Shaolin today, treatment must've been decent. Anyway……"
With immense wealth, land, and freedom to train without scrutiny, Shaolin advanced dazzlingly.
It hugely influenced other sects.
In a word, envy.
'If Shaolin can do it, why not us?'
Everyone cozied up to the court.
Bribes flowed, greater favors returned.
Blind state funds flooded murim, naturally swelling its power day by day.
But as the saying goes, no flower blooms red for ten days straight.
Nothing lasts forever.
The Tang fell, a new dynasty rose.
Murim sects' choice was obvious.
"……Everyone rushed to align with the new imperial house. Too many rivals, so they fought among themselves."
The newly founded Song exploited it.
Scattered favors to incite infighting among murim sects.
By the time murim came to its senses, they were battered shells.
"……At least not total idiots, thankfully. Realizing mutual destruction loomed, murim agreed: no meddling with court or officials. The throne regretted it but knew pushing further would spark rebellion."
"Right. That birthed the unwritten rule: court and murim don't interfere."
Bul Jon nodded, chiming in, but Jeong Gwang frowned.
"But this is common knowledge. Why drag it out so long?"
"The real story starts now."
Jeong Gwang's jaw dropped.
If that's the case, why not start there?!
'This old geezer! Lonely and dumping it all today?'
Ignoring Jeong Gwang's growing suspicion, Bul Jon continued.
"For that reason, murim distanced itself from the court. But this new dynasty brought fresh trouble."
The new imperial house, having driven out the Mongol barbarians to claim the Central Plains, poured efforts into winning hearts.
They'd leaned heavily on sagyo—heretical cults—during founding, so the populace shunned them.
Jeong Gwang knew this well.
'Those sagyo scum. Splinter from my old cult's branch—serves 'em right.'
The new dynasty crushed their sagyo helpers.
Total annihilation.
Eliminate threats to imperial power, win public favor—one stone, two birds.
"……But it wasn't enough."
"Obviously. Total tosa gu-peng."
"Yes. So they tried a new tack."
Supporting Buddhism and Taoism.
Religions long rooted among the masses—natural choice.
"Shaolin and Wudang got excessive favors as representatives."
"Ah, if only Kunlun got a little."
"……Indeed."
"That the point of this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Shaolin and Wudang can't refuse without losing face for the emperor. But accepting invites jealousy from other sects. So they had to stay quiet like mice. That it?"
"……Crude phrasing, but you get it."
"So when's the fun part?"
"Now."
"Can I believe you?"
"Much time passed. Shaolin and Wudang secluded in mountains, focusing on cultivation. Some at Shaolin even welcomed it as aligning with monks' true duty."
"Sunim-nim."
"But everyone got too rigid."
Jeong Gwang, about to complain, clapped in agreement.
"Exactly my point!"
"Monks holing up reading sutras and cultivating? Plenty of those in the world. Why do we train martial arts? To use them. Not just for personal health, but to aid the world's suffering."
"You know, so why not?"
"……Just my view. Others differ."
Pausing, Bul Jon gave a hollow laugh.
"My worry is simple. Modern Shaolin's too lopsided. Can't even consider other angles."
Suddenly, Bul Jon's eyes gleamed.
"Then Gong-u told me about you. Saving lives, giving blessings—unlike this one, who just shows off."
Gong-u flushed, opening his mouth, but Jeong Gwang beat him.
"Right? So frustrating."
"Yes. Merge you with Shaolin folk, split in half—perfect."
"Is that an insult?"
"How could it be."
Bul Jon's face turned solemn.
"I've watched you briefly, and believe your path harms no weak or kind."
"Good eye. Not undeserved Bul Jon."
"……So."
"Yes."
"Come to Shaolin with me."
"Huh? How'd it jump there?"
"Want to show Shaolin there's folks like you. Benefits you too."
"How?"
"Cheonha gongbu chul Solim—all world's techniques from Shaolin. Don't you want a tour? Even forbidden spots."
The famed saying: every martial art stems from Shaolin.
Irresistible for most warriors.
But Jeong Gwang wasn't most.
"Nah."
"……Don't know what it means?"
"Shaolin arts came from Bodhidharma from India. Not cheonha, but jungwon gongbu chul Solim."
"……Fair, but……"
"I'd peek at Indian arts maybe. Central Plains stuff? Meh."
"Could see it that way."
Bul Jon nodded readily; Jeong Gwang wrapped up.
"Done? Saje, Jao—more booze and meat."
"Y-yes? Right, got it, sahyung."
Unlike flustered Baek Seung-mu, Jao was already ordering.
Soon, table filled with fresh dishes and bottles.
"Now, for real."
Jeong Gwang rolled up sleeves boldly.
That moment, Bul Jon—who'd pondered persuasion—eyes lit up.
Spotting the Half Buddha Beads—sabulju—on Jeong Gwang's wrist.
"……Aren't those hangmaju?"
Jeong Gwang's eyes flashed too.
Suddenly, bottle down, he sat beside Bul Jon.
"These are called hangmaju?"
"……Yes."
"Ah, original name? Better than sabulju."
Jeong Gwang nodded, then asked.
"Exact effects? How to use?"
"Don't know."
"Aw, hurt feelings? Sorry. Tell me."
Baek Seung-mu and Jao paled again.
Now he'd surely snap.
But Bul Jon was Bul Jon.
"Really don't. Saw it in a book my saje studied."
Jeong Gwang stared hard.
Soon convinced.
'Not lying.'
So Shaolin knew something……
'Just use as-is?'
Hesitant to beg Bul Jon, but regretted it.
'Felt it whipping Yeong-sam-i: heavy demonic arts expose qi.'
Shaolin might solve it.
'Hmm.'
Simple: give and take, world's way.
Bonus: tour Shaolin.
Jeong Gwang said magnanimously.
"Sunim-nim, deal?"
Bul Jon got it instantly.
"Not deal—mutual aid."
"Trust you."
"I trust you."
Claiming trust, they eyed each other and nodded.
"Good. Wait outside. Sleep well, meet dawn."
As Bul Jon rose, Jeong Gwang stopped him.
"Sunim-nim, wait. Details."
"……Details?"
"How many days at Shaolin?"
"……Till sufficient?"
"Vague leads to hurt feelings. Max five days."
"……Half-month."
"Generous concession: seven days. Good?"
"……Agreed."
"Now meals. Hate temple food."
"……So?"
"Hunt in mountains."
"……Not inside temple grounds."
"Deep in okay?"
"……Amitabha."
"Love the decisiveness. Settled. What else…… Ah!"
Bul Jon's eyes twitched at Jeong Gwang's words.
"Traveling together, can't rough it. I pay. Bill Shaolin later. Fine?"
"……Just me and Gong-u?"
"Sneaky on costs. Fine. Saje, hear that?"
"……Yes."
"Record every detail."
Baek Seung-mu bowed red-faced.
"……Understood."
More haggling followed.
By end, dusk fell.
After overnight in Apricot Flower Village, they ate hearty at dawn.
Including Bul Jon and Gong-u.
"Wow, sunim-nim eats well. That much veggies?"
"Didn't say just veggies."
Bul Jon rose lightly.
"Bellies full—let's go."
"Yes."
Now five together, unlike before.
Jeong Gwang soon muttered en route.
"Actually going feels off."
"What?"
"Too far."
"……Close. Same gupailbang. Just greetings."
At "greetings," Jeong Gwang recalled one.
'That guy's due for greetings now. Hope he does well?'
* * *
In Hunan Province, a Sama-ryeon hall.
Middle-aged man on ornate chair eyed the standee.
"No word, then sudden arrival."
"Sorry, sabunim. Circumstances prevented letters; came nonstop."
Sang So-un looked the part—worse than a beggar.
The man inwardly tsked.
'Missing a hand? And……'
Aura changed.
No need to ask; he guessed.
"Failed."
"Yes. But……"
Sang So-un blinked murky eyes, voice dry.
"Urgent report."
"Speak."
Kneeling on vast floor, Sang So-un rose.
Walked toward the man.
"Young master, halt!"
Guards drew weapons, but man's gesture halted them.
Ignoring, Sang So-un reached the man, raised severed left wrist to his mouth.
"Eat this!"
Absurd shout, but full-power thrust.
Yet.
Slice.
"Gahk!"
Sang So-un's left arm severed at shoulder.
Slash.
"Kyaak!"
Right arm too.
Swoosh.
"Aaaak!"
Both legs followed.
"Kuhuhuhu……."
Limb-less, Sang So-un writhed on floor.
"Something off…… Fool. Fell to demonic arts."
Man shook blood from hand-blade, stood.
Looked down coldly.
"Who? Heavenly Demon Divine Cult demon?"
"M-master…… kuhk."
"……What'd I order?"
"U-use my arm to greet Sama-ryeon's rat bastard."
"……And?"
Demonic art user hid identity but spilled rest freely.
Bad for the man.
"D-don't strut, cower, you bastard…… kehk."