Kidnappers (1)
The walls were entirely red. Even the massive pillars supporting the ceiling gleamed vividly crimson. Long red drapes hung from various spots, fluttering in the breeze drifting through the wide-open doors. Before a wall completely covered by a massive embroidered tapestry, a gigantic gilded statue of Shakyamuni Buddha gazed down imperiously.
There, the elderly monk Hyecho heated tea water over a glowing brazier. His eyebrows, white as frost, stretched long, hinting at the many years he'd seen, yet his ruddy, youthful face was taut and wrinkle-free, revealing an extraordinary vitality.
He poured the properly warmed tea into a cup and offered it to the middle-aged monk Beomgang seated before him, asking softly, “How is Yeo-rip?”
“He hasn't regained consciousness yet, but fortunately, his life is out of danger. On the way down, I saw that the trees on the cliff face were broken. It seems they slowed his fall, reducing the impact. I've finished the emergency treatment and left him in Wonmyeong's care.”
“Amitabha, truly fortunate. The Buddha must have watched over him.”
Hyecho nodded in relief, blowing gently on the steam rising from his teacup.
“But how did that child end up in the Repentance Cave?”
“That's something I don't quite understand either. It's quite a distance from his quarters.”
“Hmm……”
The Repentance Cave. A natural cliff plunging a hundred zhang underground. It was like a prison cell heaven itself had carved out for sinners. The only exit faced the sky, yet even that was sealed by the Anti-Demon Formation, making escape impossible once inside.
And there was only one such natural prison in the Central Plains: Shaolin Temple.
Called the progenitors of martial arts in the Central Plains, they had rooted themselves on Song Mountain, carrying their long history through generations. Usually devoted to the Buddhist path, when martial artists fell to demonic temptation, they emerged without hesitation to protect the world's peace. That was Shaolin's way, and the Repentance Cave was the fruit of their guardianship.
“It's strange. Truly strange.”
As Hyecho furrowed his brow and repeated himself, Beomgang asked quietly, “Sect Leader, what worries you?”
“An unexpected connection has arisen.”
At those worry-laden words, Beomgang smiled faintly. “Surely not.”
“Isn't it peculiar, though? It was a place guarded by our disciples. How could anyone breach a defensive net unbroken for generations?”
“Hmm……”
“And on a moonlit night, there's no way he could have simply slipped. Why would the child throw himself there?”
As Hyecho's sigh deepened, Beomgang gave an awkward smile. It was baffling even to him that the guarding disciples hadn't spotted the boy. He'd checked multiple times, and none had been negligent or absent. Even the formation's overseer, the Golden Ring Monk, couldn't hide his bewilderment.
A one-in-a-thousand, one-in-ten-thousand chance. A minor human error had occurred against all odds.
But the Sect Leader couldn't shake his concerns. The “unexpected connection” meant he suspected the demon dwelling inside might be involved in the boy's discovery in the cave.
But that was overthinking it.
“Sect Leader, the last demon imprisoned in the Repentance Cave was during Wise Progenitor's tenure as Sect Leader.”
“Yes, I know. I've already reviewed the cave's records again.”
Wise Progenitor was three generations prior, a figure from a century ago. Records showed the last captive was Yuma Hyeok Won-gyeong, once called the supreme demon of past and present. Why they hadn't killed him—who had inflicted unprecedented wounds on the Central Plains—was unrecorded, but they had severed his limbs' meridians, crippled his dantian, and sealed him away.
That was a hundred years ago. With heaven's allotted lifespan, a man in his seventies back then couldn't possibly still live.
Yet Hyecho worried. How many bizarre tales circulated in the murim? And Yuma Hyeok Won-gyeong was said to wield not just martial arts but freakish sorceries besides……
Such records had long troubled Hyecho.
“Sect Leader, I've examined Yeo-rip's body meticulously.”
“Have you?”
“Yes. With the other disciples, we checked the cave interior—nothing was there. And there's no trace of anyone touching the boy. If some unexpected connection had occurred, I would have noticed while treating him.”
“Amitabha. If you say so, I believe you.”
Hyecho still seemed uneasy, letting out a deep sigh. A shadow of melancholy crossed Beomgang's face.
They said excessive worry aged a man. Though now one was Sect Leader and the other an elder, they had once been master and disciple. Having cultivated to transcend worldly ties for the Buddhist path, they were still human, not Buddhas—how could they fully detach?
Seeing his master, whom he cherished privately, worry more than before, as if showing signs of decline, unsettled Beomgang. He wasn't ready to one day receive his master's ashes from the cremation.
Growing inexplicably melancholic, Beomgang changed the subject. “By the way, I'm not sure if it'll be alright.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yeo-rip is more talented than the scripture hall monks, but he's an introverted child, isn't he?”
“True.”
“Cheongeumbang sent word they'll take him next month. It's natural now that the Ak family's false charges are cleared, but the merchant world differs from martial clans—its battles are fought in shadows, not in plain sight. That's what concerns me.”
Hyecho listened quietly, then smiled at him. How could a master not know his disciple's heart? He read the concern for him in those eyes.
But why point it out?
“He'll be fine. Doesn't he have a bolder side than he seems? Still, we must send him off healthy for my peace of mind, so care for him diligently until then.”
“Yes, Sect Leader.”
Beomgang bowed respectfully and withdrew. But his returning face wasn't bright.
With all that worrying…… Lately, he's been catching colds often too.
To ease Hyecho's mind, Beomgang resolved to hasten Yeo-rip's recovery as he headed to the infirmary.
Shaolin's infirmary. Dedicated to the Medicine Buddha for healing the suffering of sentient beings. Yet today, the usually serene hall buzzed strangely.
Monks of all ages gathered, murmuring worriedly as they stared at the boy lying on the floor mat.
“Ugh……”
Then, the boy grimaced and stirred, drawing them in like they'd discovered something new, heads clustering close.
“He's coming to.”
“Oh!”
“Amitabha.”
As exclamations rose, the boy trembled his long eyelids and lifted them.
But his actions were odd. Like a newborn babe, he blinked for a long while. Then he stared blankly at the crowd above him.
“Yeo-rip! Are you alright?”
“Yeo-rip, how's your body?”
“Yeo-rip!”
The first emotion the boy felt looking at them was fear. Waking to a horde of bald monks staring down—what the hell was this?
They were all smiling, which made it scarier. Monks, why are you doing this to me? And why keep calling me Yeo-rip? I don't know anyone by that name.
Wait, where am I? Not a hospital…… Am I kidnapped? No way! Bald criminal gang or something? Infamous skinheads?!
If not, why am I here instead of my hospital bed? Damn it!
Situational awareness be damned—he needed to beg for his life. At the ripe age of thirty, hit with a terminal diagnosis like a bolt from the blue, waiting to die, only to get snatched by crazy monks while asleep.
All sorts of wild thoughts raced through his head. Are they in cahoots with the hospital, targeting terminal patients for organ sales? No loose ends since we're dying anyway? Disguise as monks to avoid suspicion? Yeah, who suspects holy men?
Damn it. Should've gone to a university hospital. What was I thinking, picking some backwater place just to save a buck? Even if I'm dying, I don't wanna go out like a bum.
Kids, you don't know, but my organs are all rotten—doc said barely usable. Boo-hoo.
Pouring his desperate heart into it, he pleaded, “Ahh…… (Please spare me).”
Damn! No voice.
Resigned, he made the most pitiful face possible.
“There, there. We know. How could you not be overwhelmed after surviving by a thread?”
Misunderstanding! Total misunderstanding! This is just me scared shitless, begging you to let me live!
No, calm down. Maybe not kidnapping. Let me get up first……
But his body wouldn't move. Bound tight, limbs frozen.
Crazy, definitely kidnapped. Gotta tie 'em to prevent escape—why else truss someone like this?!
“Amitabha, the Buddha's grace.”
Some sighed in relief, stroking their chests; others laughed.
You bastards! Kidnapping me and invoking Buddha? Don't drag him into this!
He wanted to scream, but the sound circled his throat, refusing to emerge.
Then, a booming voice echoed through the room. “Hey! What's all this racket?”
“Brother Beomgang! Yeo-rip's awake, finally awake!”
“Is that such a big deal? Why the commotion? Don't you know a patient's room must be quiet? And if he's awake, check his condition first!”
“Well, yes, but…… Heh heh, I got so excited and relieved.”
That's when he realized. Senior brothers. These damn guys have camaraderie through the roof.
As the scolding dispersed the crowd, the owner of that resonant voice approached and peered down. The monk called Beomgang had a kind face brimming with benevolence at a glance.
But don't be fooled. Called “brother” or not, his words showed he was the real boss.
“Hmmm.”
After a moment's gaze, Beomgang plopped down cross-legged, gently taking the boy's wrist to check his pulse. Eyes closed in focus, the noisy atmosphere hushed instantly, all eyes converging on him as if sharing one mind.
Finally, a smile curved Beomgang's lips.
“Good. Pulse is weak but he's past the crisis. Some congestion remains for discomfort, but it'll improve with time. No need to worry now.”
The monks' faces lit up at the diagnosis.
Even scarier. Acupuncturist? What don't I need to worry about? Were you gonna experiment on me?
Tears welled up for real. Buddha's heartless too. Why let a good guy like me, waiting patiently for death, get kidnapped by these psychos for more suffering?
No choice. If heaven abandons me, self-reliance it is. I'm not your Jin Yeo-rip. And whatever you want, kidnapping me won't get it. No family, no money, no time left!
“Ugh…… Please spare me.”
“Heh heh, of course.”
Squeezing out the words, he begged. Beomgang nodded, smiling warmly. Looked like persuasion worked. Dial up the pitiful act……
“I don't know who you are, but I'm not who you think.”
“……Huh?”
“Truth is, I'm terminally ill—guts all rotten. Plus an orphan, no skills, no ransom even if you kidnap me.”
Pouring sincerity into his plea, but Beomgang's face suddenly hardened coldly. The surrounding monks gawked in shock.
They looked pretty flustered. Ah, wrong approach? Shouldn't tell kidnappers kidnapping's pointless?
Smiles gone, faces stiff…… Ah, maybe 'cause no money? Duh, what do kidnappers want besides cash?
“On second thought, I got some savings and insurance. Will that do?”
As he negotiated, Beomgang's pupils trembled faintly. A nearby monk of similar age muttered in panic.
“Head injury from the fall?!”
Beomgang scowled deeply, urgently checking his head.
That's when it hit him. No way…… You're selling brains too?