Chapter 130: Shaolin (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 130: Shaolin (3)
The moment the spar ended, a hearing was convened.
Seo-jun knew exactly why. It was undoubtedly because he had copied the Hundred-Step Divine Fist.
But things were different now.
Back when he had mimicked the plum blossoms of the Mount Hua Sect, getting caught would have been a disaster. But today?
I’m the son-in-law of the Namgung Clan. What are they going to do?
His current situation was worlds apart from the days when he had no backing. Moreover, he was now a master at a level that simply could no longer be ignored.
That was why he hadn't even bothered trying to disguise his version of the Hundred-Step Divine Fist.
With his significantly higher realm, he had pierced through the martial art's core principles far more accurately than before. To show Hye-un the true path he needed to take, Seo-jun had mirrored the Shaolin technique as flawlessly as possible.
The result, naturally…
“If my eyes do not deceive me, that was undoubtedly the Hundred-Step Divine Fist.”
The Abbot began the interrogation, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Seo-jun remained entirely composed. It wasn't as if he had committed a crime. Was it illegal to see a martial art and copy it? The issue itself was incredibly ambiguous.
There was no such thing as copyright in the martial world.
In Seo-jun’s mind, copying a technique was less like plagiarism and more like mimicking a pro-gamer’s strategy. If you broke into a rival team’s headquarters and stole their playbook, that was a crime. But if you simply watched them play and copied their moves? No problem at all.
The only difference here was that, usually, people didn't even consider it possible to watch a martial art and instantly replicate it.
Wait, is it different? Leaking a sect’s martial arts is basically a declaration of war, so maybe it is a bit different.
Sects were fiercely protective of their techniques. They feared enemies developing direct counters, and they viewed their martial arts as private, sacred property. For highly symbolic techniques with distinct characteristics, there was also the risk of someone using them to frame the sect for crimes they didn't commit.
Because of this, if a weakling copied a martial art, they would be ruthlessly crushed for their "insolence" without a second thought. The rest of the Murim would nod in agreement. (Usually, such cases involved secretly peeping on private training anyway, leaving no room for excuses.)
But what if the culprit was the son-in-law of the Namgung Clan?
Trying to crush him might just result in getting crushed instead.
Besides, it wasn't even clear if he had actually done anything "wrong" in the first place.
Isn't the ability to watch and replicate a martial art a profound talent in itself?
Can a copied technique truly be called the exact same as the original?
Can that even be classified as theft?
How is it any different from observing a martial art and gaining enlightenment?
If one understands the core principles, wouldn't the resulting technique naturally look identical?
Is there any rule saying you can't use the enlightenment you gained from watching something?
There were enough ambiguous points to fuel a fierce debate for years.
Well, that’s just my headcanon.
In truth, he had never heard of anyone who could perfectly copy a martial art after seeing it just a few times, so he had no idea how people would actually react. If such a monster appeared and was discovered, martial arts copyrights might actually become a real concept.
But they don't exist right now, do they?
That was why Seo-jun remained confident. However, feeling a slight twinge of guilt for the mess he’d caused earlier, he decided to just be honest.
“I just watched it and copied it as best I could.”
“There is a vast difference between mimicking the outward appearance of a martial art and manifesting the profound principles contained within,” the Abbot said sternly. “Do you think I cannot tell the difference?”
“I suppose it’s because I saw those principles and followed them?”
“How can you say that so easily…”
Even as the Abbot of Shaolin, it was difficult to press the issue further. He knew better than anyone that the Hundred-Step Divine Fist had never been leaked.
Did that mean this young man really just watched it a few times and replicated it? How was that even possible?
The Abbot was at a total loss. He possessed the profound wisdom that came with age, but it was of little help in the face of such an unprecedented anomaly. With no historical precedent to fall back on, making a hasty judgment was dangerous.
“What’s the big deal about copying a little martial art? Why are you being so stingy?”
The Fist King’s sudden meddling only made the headache worse.
“You, keep your mouth shut,” the Abbot snapped.
“Ho ho, if a man has a mouth, he ought to use it. If you stay quiet all the time, you’ll just age faster.”
Seo-jun offered an awkward smile at the exchange.
It might be a bit troublesome if the Abbot went around spreading this story, but he trusted the old monk wouldn't do that. Even if he did, it wasn't a world-ending problem. At worst, people would just become extremely reluctant to show off their martial arts in front of him.
That didn't matter; there were plenty of other ways to witness martial arts.
Regardless, his plan now was to entertain the overly excited Elder Namgung Hyeok for a bit, do some casual sightseeing around Shaolin, and then head back to the villa.
As he glanced around the room, his eyes met Ji-am’s.
Seo-jun’s eyebrow twitched playfully, and Ji-am’s expression instantly soured into a bizarre grimace. Seo-jun considered teasing the monk for a moment but ultimately decided against it.
The bickering between the Abbot and Pae Jin-gwang was finally coming to an end.
“Sigh… Fine. Since your intention seemed to be to teach Hye-un, it is difficult to find fault.”
In fact, since Hye-un had managed to gain enlightenment and take a significant step forward because of it, Shaolin should technically be thanking him.
“Furthermore, judging by your untainted, clear energy, your character must be upright.”
“I don’t think this kid’s character is upright at all,” Pae Jin-gwang chimed in immediately.
The Abbot ignored the Fist King entirely and kept his gaze fixed on Seo-jun.
“As long as you do not use that martial art for wicked purposes, I shall say no more on the matter.”
“And if I do use it for wicked purposes?” Seo-jun asked.
“Then I must take action before its essence is defiled.”
Namgung Hyeok’s expression immediately darkened.
“This child is of the Namgung Clan.”
“This is a matter upon which Shaolin cannot compromise.”
“Namgung will not sit idly by.”
“Then we shall ensure it does not come to that,” the Abbot replied smoothly. “I only spoke to prepare for the worst, so do not waste your energy getting worked up.”
This Abbot isn't as monk-like as I thought.
Is it because he’s in the Transcendent Realm?
As Seo-jun thoughtfully scratched his chin, the Abbot turned around.
“That is enough of that. Follow me. I have something important to discuss.”
*
The Abbot led the group to a modest, secluded room.
To be precise, he only allowed those at the Super Peak Realm or higher to enter. Anyone below that threshold was firmly told to wait outside. However, Namgung Myeong, acting as the Young Lord of the Namgung Clan, was granted an exception.
The heavy hitters gathered in the room were the Abbot of Shaolin, Seo-jun, Namgung Hyeok, Pae Jin-gwang, Namgung Myeong, Abbess Bo-yeon of Emei, and Wol-mang of Qingcheng.
I didn't even realize that Wol-mang guy was here.
Come to think of it, Seo-jun felt like they’d spoken a few times, but the man’s presence was incredibly faint.
“The Sixteen Major Sects and Clans will officially gather once more when the main tournament of the Yongbong Gathering begins, but there is something I must share beforehand.”
At the Abbot’s grave tone, Seo-jun, who had been lost in his own thoughts, looked up.
The Sixteen Major Sects and Clans. It was the collective term for the Nine Great Sects and One Clan, plus the Six Great Clans.
They were all gathering in one place. Perhaps that was the true, underlying purpose of this Yongbong Gathering.
“Why are you hesitating? Just spit it out,” Pae Jin-gwang grumbled.
The Abbot’s eyes flashed with a heavy, sunken light.
“The movements of the Demonic Cult are unusual.”
“Is it anything new for those demons to be wandering about causing trouble? We shouldn't even try to understand what goes on in their heads.”
“It is different this time,” the Abbot said slowly. “The Heavenly Demon has moved.”
At that single name, Pae Jin-gwang’s face instantly turned grave.
“The Heavenly Demon? Dammit. If he’s moved…”
“It must be the will of Mara Papiyas.”
For a moment, it felt as if the very air in the room had turned to lead.
Seo-jun, who didn't quite grasp the gravity of the situation, raised a hand. “Who is Mara Papiyas?”
“The Demon Immortal,” Namgung Hyeok explained, his face twisted in a grimace. “The dark god the Demonic Cult worships. The Heavenly Demon acts as her proxy.”
“If she’s a Demon Immortal, isn't she an Immortal? I thought Immortals resided in the Celestial Realm. Can they actually communicate with the mortal world?”
Does that mean Shaolin monks chat casually with the Buddha too?
“I have heard there are several methods. In the case of the Demonic Cult, it seems limited communication is possible because their Saintess carries the Divine Blood.”
Seo-jun’s expression froze.
Divine Blood. He had heard those exact words before.
Hadn't Jong-in of the Mount Hua Sect mentioned it?
— Those fools couldn't even handle one job properly, so I had to come out personally to finish it. It would be troublesome if the Divine Blood remained in the world.
Did "Divine Blood" not just mean being a descendant of the Sword God?
His mind quickly became a tangled mess.
Then Chun-bong can communicate with the Sword God too? Is that why they tried to eliminate her? But why? Is there something else going on?
As Seo-jun remained silently trapped in his thoughts, Namgung Hyeok continued.
“Therefore, the fact that the Heavenly Demon has moved is no simple matter. It is, in itself, the direct will of Mara Papiyas.”
Usually, the Demonic Cult rarely showed any significant, unified movement. While the rogue demons under their vast umbrella caused trouble everywhere as a matter of course, the Cult itself had only mobilized a handful of times in the long, bloody history of the Murim.
However, whenever they did stir, they never failed to leave a deep, agonizing mark on history.
A trail of footprints painted in red blood.
Wol-mang, who had been quiet until now, asked, “Abbot, what exactly do you mean by the Heavenly Demon moving?”
“He has not moved personally. Only the Four Great Protectors have stepped forth.”
“That is… a relief, relatively speaking.”
“Indeed. If the Half-Gods had moved, there isn't a soul in the world who wouldn't know by now.”
If those monsters were to move beyond their restrictions, half of the Central Plains would already be reduced to ash and ruin. Even if you wanted to remain ignorant, you couldn't. It would be a literal, world-shaking disaster.
Abbess Bo-yeon spoke up next.
“Regardless, due to the Demonic Cult’s movements, Kunlun will not be attending this Yongbong Gathering. We know their situation is dire as they are already at war with the Black Lotus Union, but we must organize support for Kunlun at the next meeting.”
“Wait,” Wol-mang interrupted, his eyes narrowing. “Just in case, is there any evidence of communication or an alliance between the Demonic Cult and the Black Lotus Union?”
The Abbot shook his head. “We believe that is not the case.”
“That’s a relief, at least.”
“A relief… That is hardly the word for a situation where we are in the middle of a brutal war with the Black Lotus Union and now have the Demonic Cult joining the fray.”
“Well, it’s better than fighting two against one, isn't it?”
Wol-mang intended it as a lighthearted joke to ease the tension, but the reaction was freezing cold. He smacked his lips awkwardly and fell silent.
The atmosphere remained suffocatingly heavy.
Namgung Myeong, attending purely as the Young Lord, found it difficult to even breathe too loudly, let alone speak.
Watching the room, Seo-jun finally realized the true, crushing weight of the title "Heavenly Demon."
So that’s why Ji-am threw such a fit?
No wonder the monk’s eyes had practically rolled into the back of his head when Seo-jun jokingly claimed to be the Heavenly Demon. Apparently, it wasn't a name to be thrown around lightly.
Since he hadn't been born and raised in the Central Plains, he had thought of it as just another edgy title until now. But from what he was hearing, the name "Heavenly Demon" had been passed down through generations of the Demonic Cult’s Half-Gods…
Just thinking about the sheer scale of it made the name feel incredibly heavy.
Then, a sudden, chilling thought occurred to him.
— Found you. The sprout of the Lord of Ten Thousand Demons.
Those were the words of the mysterious woman who had presumably sent him to the Murim in the first place.
Don't tell me those Demonic Cult bastards are coming for me?
Seo-jun’s eyes darted around the room busily.
*
After the meeting concluded in a heavy, oppressive atmosphere, the group returned straight to the villa, entirely devoid of any mood for sightseeing.
Time flew by, and soon it was the first day of the Yongbong Gathering preliminaries.
Heading to the preliminary grounds with Chun-bong, Seo-jun looked at the massive, surging crowd with a look of pure disgust.
“Wow… look at all these people.”
It was packed shoulder-to-shoulder. He felt a genuine, intrusive urge to just draw his sword and cut the crowd in half to make a path.
“……win.”
“Huh?”
Chun-bong was mumbling. Listening closely, he realized she was repeating a mantra to herself.
“I’ll win. I can’t lose. I have to make it to the finals… No. I have to win the whole thing.”
Her determination was burning fiercely.
Seo-jun grinned and scooped her up in his arms.
“Aw, our little Chun-bong. Of course you’ll win! Your brother will just, you know? Should we just hit the Super Peak Realm before the main tournament?”
“I’m serious.”
“Of course, of course. I’m serious too.”
“…Hmph.”
Her lips pouted adorably. Resisting the urge to pinch her cheeks, Seo-jun pushed his way through the dense crowd and finally arrived at the training grounds.
Looking around, there were no weaklings in sight. Judging by the auras radiating from the participants, they were at least at the Peak Realm. Occasionally, he spotted martial artists who appeared to be at the First-rate level, but their actual combat power didn't seem inferior to the Peak masters.
It seemed the screening process just to enter the preliminaries had been brutally strict.
In the previous Mount Hua tournament, didn't they have to cut a massive log just to pass the initial screening? Since the Yongbong Gathering attracted exponentially more martial artists, the entry test was likely much harder.
Of course, Chun-bong had bypassed all of that and passed automatically, so he didn't know the exact details.
He wasn't worried about people complaining about nepotism or unfairness, either. Public opinion was not something a true martial artist ever needed to care about.
While Righteous Faction sects looked after the welfare of the common people to some extent, they were never truly swayed by public opinion. What they cared about were the words of other major sects, not their reputation among the powerless masses.
The word of a single Super Peak master carried ten thousand times more weight than the endless chatter of a million commoners. Many in the Murim believed that even listening to the commoners' grievances was merely an act of profound mercy and grace bestowed by those above.
That was the harsh reality of the Murim.
Most of the people Seo-jun had met so far were relatively gentle, but among the more radical, traditional types, it was common practice to not even consider those below the Peak Realm as human beings.
Only upon reaching the Peak Realm did one truly become human. Below that, they were sub-human.
Seo-jun had only heard the stories, but he understood the cold logic behind it. Would a superhuman who had lived for hundreds of years treat weak, fragile mortals who couldn't even live a single century as their equals?
He wondered if these masters thought they had popped out of the womb at the Super Peak Realm, but it wasn't rare for a frog to completely forget its days as a tadpole.
He just accepted it for what it was. They probably had their own twisted philosophies—perhaps viewing commoners as "pre-humans" who had yet to prove their worth to the heavens.
Well, as long as they didn't mess with the people he cared about, their philosophies didn't matter to him.
“Move to your assigned arenas according to your numbers!”
While he was lost in thought, the preliminaries had officially begun.
“I’ll be back.”
Chun-bong straightened her clothes, her expression solemn and focused.
Seo-jun gave her his most sincere support.
“Go kill them all, Geum Chun-bong.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Fine, don't kill them. Just beat the absolute crap out of them.”
“Hmph, obviously.”
Chun-bong gripped the hilt of the sword at her waist and flashed a sharp, confident grin.
“I’m Geum Chun-bong.”