So What's the Problem?
The middle-aged man who had suddenly been cursed muttered in a chilling voice.
"...A true demonic bastard, foul-mouthed as expected."
Sang So-un was on the verge of death from losing too much blood.
Even in that state, seeing him deliver the message with his clouded eyes ignited a fierce rage.
'Did a demonic art shatter his mind?'
It went beyond shattering—it had dominated him.
This was no ordinary demonic art.
'Farewell, son.'
The middle-aged man, Sima Lian Lord Sima Ji-hwan, crushed Sang So-un's head with his foot.
Crack!
"Gahk!"
A wretched scream burst from Sang So-un's mouth.
Sima Ji-hwan ignored it and wiped his foot on the floor.
Having cleaned off the blood and brains staining his silk robe, he returned to his chair and sat down.
There lay Sang So-un, limbs severed and head smashed.
Contempt flickered in Sima Ji-hwan's eyes as he gazed at the corpse.
'I thought he'd be better than this. Useless trash in the end.'
He'd boasted of certain success, so I'd even given him the title of Sa Bul-ju, yet he returned like this.
Blame the lowly whore who birthed him.
'If he'd inherited even half of that one's talent... Sigh. He carried tainted blood too.'
Recalling Hu Wei-jin, he shook his head to dismiss the thought.
'Only the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult could wield such a demonic art. They've dared to provoke me.'
The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, called the strongest single organization under heaven.
Even they had picked the wrong foe this time.
Sima Ji-hwan's lips slowly parted, and an eerie voice leaked out.
"Summon all division leaders and above."
The warriors shouted in unison.
"Yes, Lian-ju!"
Soon, the hall filled with people.
Among them, a late-arriving elderly man prostrated himself and cried out.
He was the pavilion master of Seo Jo-gak, which handled intelligence for Sima Lian.
"Lian-ju-nim! Word from the Hebei branch!"
"Speak."
"The Sa Hon-sa-ro and Mil Hwan-sa-sal dispatched for the Hebei Pang Clan affair, along with everyone else, were found completely annihilated! Judging by the horrific wounds, it seems like they fell to a demonic art. This young master had only one severed hand left; his whereabouts are unknown..."
"You report quickly."
"I-I'm sorry! We'll find this young master no matter wha—"
"The rest of him, minus the hand, is over there."
Sima Ji-hwan nodded toward the corner.
The elder whipped his head around to see Sang So-un's corpse, limbs hacked off and head burst open.
"...T-This young master!"
"Quiet!"
A bone-chilling killing intent emanated from Sima Ji-hwan.
Everyone in the hall stared at him with rigid faces.
"Vice Lian-ju."
"Yes, Lian-ju."
A tall old man stepped forward.
"As Seo Jo-gak-ju said. The second fell to a demonic art. Confirm it yourself."
"...Understood."
"And bring that bastard before me. Even if it's a shredded corpse."
"Understood, Lian-ju."
As the vice lian-ju clasped his hands in response, Sima Ji-hwan shook his sleeves and strode out.
A cold wind battered his robe and scattered.
'The vice lian-ju will track down the culprit.'
He was capable enough that even Sima Ji-hwan stayed wary.
Once the situation was grasped and manpower allocated, he'd head to Hebei Province.
The warning the demon had issued through Sang So-un's mouth resurfaced.
'Stay in your hole and don't mess around?'
A bizarre smile curled his lips.
A cold voice slipped through his teeth.
"You won't even get that chance."
Jeong Gwang ate, drank, and enjoyed himself until leaving Shanxi Province.
But upon entering Henan Province, home of the Murim Alliance, he unleashed his lightness skill and raced ahead.
Baek Seung-mu, breathless from the nonstop run, finally gasped,
"S-Senior brother. Can't we slow down a bit? Why the rush?"
"You've passed through most spots from the Murim Alliance to Hebei Province, right?"
"E-Even so, this is too fast."
"Fast? I'm going super slow because of you, junior brother."
"...Sorry."
Baek Seung-mu bit his lip and circulated his inner energy.
Jao suffered next worst but gritted his teeth, fearing Jeong Gwang's notice, and kept running.
Thus, they raced into Zhengzhou County in Henan Province.
This was Shaolin Temple's turf.
Shaolin's reputation was solid; commoners swarmed like clouds upon spotting Bul Jon and Gong-u.
"My goodness, a divine monk graces the secular world. What fortune to meet you here—three lifetimes' worth!"
"High Dragon has grown even more majestic. May Buddha's blessings be ever with you."
Tremendous popularity.
Even the ethereally handsome Jeong Gwang, who could pass for an immortal, was pushed aside.
A novel experience for Jeong Gwang.
Not because he was sidelined, but because he'd never seen a prestigious righteous sect so revered by the powerless.
'Not in the original story, I think.'
The Joint, Huashan, and Zhongnan weren't well-regarded by the weak.
No, people even avoided them now.
'They said Shaolin handles monk duties well. Seems true.'
Jeong Gwang's opinion of Shaolin rose.
They were doing one side right.
'This could be fun.'
Shaolin didn't disappoint.
The origin of Zen Buddhism and cradle of Central Plains martial arts, Shaolin lay at the foot of Shaoshi Peak on Song Mountain, counted among the Five Sacred Mountains as the Central Peak.
Not comparable to Kunlun Mountain, but the peaks were imposing, and countless pilgrims climbed and descended.
'All ascending and descending wear joyful faces.'
Admiration escaped Jeong Gwang's lips.
"Whoa. This must rake in a fortune."
"..."
Baek Seung-mu quickly bowed his head; Jao heard with one ear and let it flow out the other.
Bul Jon smiled faintly without rebuke, but the less disciplined Gong-u frowned.
"Young hero. Your words are excessive."
"Huh? Lots of donations are good, right?"
"...No. Let's drop it."
Gong-u was gradually learning about Jeong Gwang.
Engaging him in talk only hurt himself.
They silently ascended and reached Shaolin's mountain gate.
With Bul Jon, they passed unhindered deep inside.
A monk from the Zhi Ke Tang escorted them to a small monk's quarters.
Seeing the room, Jeong Gwang's jaw dropped.
'...Did I return to Kunlun?'
It resembled Kunlun's shabby, threadbare cells.
'No, with this vast estate, ancient grand halls everywhere, what’s with this mismatched dump?'
Sensing his doubt, the Zhi Ke Tang monk explained.
"It's humble, but bear with it. All our temple's rooms are like this."
"...Even the elders'?"
"Yes."
"...Even Venerable Bul Jon's?"
"Yes."
"Wow. No way."
"What's the issue? A room just needs space to lie down."
As Jeong Gwang gaped, Bul Jon added,
"It's true. Even the abbot's room is the same."
"..."
Jeong Gwang shook his head.
Kunlun was poor, so understandable, but overflowing with wealth and still this austere?
'Well, a change of pace after so long.'
Recalling his own Kunlun room, he accepted.
"Got it. I'll rest well."
The Zhi Ke Tang monk politely cupped his hands.
"Amitabha. Speak if anything's inconvenient. We'll do our best."
Not much they could fix, but oh well.
Baek Seung-mu and Jao got their rooms too.
Neither dared show dissatisfaction.
With things settled, Bul Jon said,
"You've come far; rest well. See you at evening meal."
"Any greens?"
"Beans too."
"Hmm. Beans are iffy... Let's try Song Mountain greens."
By evening, Jeong Gwang knew.
Greens from Kunlun or Song Mountain tasted the same.
'Like a cow chewing cud.'
He ate roughly and stood to leave...
Bul Jon forbade it.
"No, why...?"
Bul Jon pointed to Jeong Gwang's wooden begging bowl.
Greens and beans remained.
"Even a single vegetable holds Buddha's compassion; a single bean bears the farmer's sweat."
"Eat it all, no leftovers? Kunlun's similar but not this strict..."
The Zhi Ke Tang monk interjected.
"You're not a disciple, so I'll explain simply. Bear any discomfort and follow here. We must start with the Three Jewels, Four Precepts... First, the Three Jewels are..."
After that, Jeong Gwang tuned out.
His instincts rebelled.
Instead, he silently thanked the Supreme Lord Laozi, whom he'd doubted.
And Primordial Heavenly Lord and Lingbao Heavenly Lord too.
'Thanks for the hard work, all three. Grateful for reincarnating me as a Kunlun Taoist. If we meet in the immortal realm, drinks on me.'
Unlikely, of course.
Jeong Gwang becoming an immortal? Absurd.
He was just grateful not to be born a monk; the reverence would fade once he left Shaolin.
'Gotta hurry.'
He resolved to leave ASAP.
Secretly slipping his beans into Baek Seung-mu's bowl, away from Bul Jon's eyes.
Waking in the morning, Jeong Gwang nearly had a fit.
The ceiling looked as decrepit as Kunlun's.
'...This is ridiculous.'
Shaking his head vigorously, he got off the bed, which creaked loudly.
That rickety thing.
Even a peak expert like Jeong Gwang had back pain; need I say more?
'...How did they survive in Kunlun?'
Since arriving Central Plains, he'd stayed only in fine lodgings.
Better than Kunlun, he'd been content, but this was unbearable.
One might reflect on joy in having after lack, suffering in loss after having—contemplating non-possession to qualify as a Taoist.
Not Jeong Gwang.
'Stay long, crash at an inn down the mountain.'
A familiar presence approached outside.
Bul Jon.
"Awake?"
"Yes."
"Then let's go."
Opening the door, Jeong Gwang asked,
"To your junior brother studying the Anti-Demonic Beads?"
"How about mingling with our temple's young ones first?"
"Beads first."
Bul Jon eyed his stubborn face and nodded.
"Fine. Order doesn't matter."
"Then why suggest otherwise?"
"...That way. Come."
Bul Jon led him to Shaolin's outskirts.
A hermitage stood, crude yet charming.
At the door, Bul Jon knocked.
"Junior brother. May we enter?"
"Of course."
Inside was surprisingly spacious.
Bookshelves lined the walls, packed with tomes.
In the center sat a gaunt old monk.
"What brings you?"
"Brought a guest."
The old monk, eyes weak, rubbed them before peering at Jeong Gwang.
"Heavens. Such a handsome Taoist. My eyes open today."
"You still can't see well."
"Hm? Why think that?"
"You'd be way more shocked if you could."
After silence, the old monk turned to Bul Jon.
"What's this thing?"
"Kunlun's Jade Dragon, all the rage lately."
"What's that? A nickname?"
"Yes."
"Heavens. First time hearing such a bombastic title. Ah, True Heavenly Demon too."
Both belonged to one man.
Its owner, Jeong Gwang, studied the old monk closely.
He seemed clueless.
'Buried in books, huh.'
Anyone unaware of his rumors lacked interest in the jianghu.
'No inner energy worth mentioning. One of Shaolin's famed scholar-monks?'
Shaolin was temple and martial school.
Naturally, erudite monks delved into sutras; they were scholar-monks.
'Ink in the brain. Right place.'
Jeong Gwang cut to the chase.
He thrust out his left arm with the beads.
"Know these?"
The old monk's eyes lit up sharply.
Keen intelligence gleamed.
"...Remarkable. To see Anti-Demonic Beads in person. Where'd you get that treasure?"
"Picked it up. Got info?"
"Easy enough."
The old monk nodded without demanding payment.
Jeong Gwang's fondness surged.
"Buddha dwells here."
"Heh. No need to flatter a dying old man. See the rightmost shelf?"
"Yes."
"Third from top, thirty-fourth from left."
Jeong Gwang was genuinely impressed.
Pinpointing amid this sea of books—stellar memory!
'Scholar-monk indeed. Sharp mind.'
He pulled the book.
The cover was worn blank with age.
'...No way.'
He turned pages carefully.
Thankfully, contents were intact.
Soon, he found an illustration of the beads.
Identical to his wrist.
'It exists!'
But...
'...Just the picture?'
Even faded.
Beside it, text traces remained, but mold had turned them to black stains.
'What the hell!'
Jeong Gwang deflated; the old monk asked,
"Problem?"
"...All smudged."
"Is that it?"
As Jeong Gwang stared incredulously, the old monk chuckled.
"All these books live in my head. Shall I recite?"
"Venerable! Buddha! Brilliant!"
"No flattery. Get a brush."
"Nah. I'll memorize."
"Ho. Clever one."
The old monk cleared his throat curiously.
"Ahem."
"Yes. Go on."
"Anti-Demonic Beads..."
"Yes. Anti-Demonic Beads."
"..."
"...Venerable?"
The old monk's eyes changed.
Not keen now—vacant, empty.
'No way...'
As chill hit Jeong Gwang, the old monk spoke.
"Where am I?"
"..."
"Who am I?"
"..."
Jeong Gwang slowly turned, glaring at Bul Jon.
"Venerable. Explain."
Bul Jon averted his gaze.
"Hey, monk?"