Chapter 38: The Old Monk's Grudge (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 38: The Old Monk's Grudge (2)
The martial artists whispered among themselves.
"The... Desolate Fortress...?"
"No way. Why would the Desolate Fortress come to a place like this?"
"Shaolin's high priests were with the county magistrate! There's no reason the Desolate Fortress wouldn't come!"
It was a perfect display of the Black Way's lawlessness.
When back-alley thugs picked up low-grade martial arts and started calling themselves martial artists, they became the Black Way. They were nothing more than half-baked Unorthodox rabble.
Just then, a fleshy, bald giant yanked an axe out of a table.
He seemed to have learned a martial art tailored to his innate physical strength. His eyes, glaring at Jeong Yeon-shin, gleamed red with drunken fury.
"A greenhorn like that is a Desolate Fortress expert? And you cowards call yourselves my brothers!"
Gripping the axe handle, he hurled it without warning. The sound of the heavy blade tearing through the air was formidable.
Heonwon Chang stood with his arms crossed, not moving an inch. He even wore a faint smile.
Crash!
In the literal blink of an eye, Jeong Yeon-shin drew his sword and struck.
The axe shattered into pieces instantly. The shockwave of force surging from his grip on the Desolate Fortress Sword whipped up a sudden gale.
Shards of iron scattered through the air.
"Applying the force of a fist technique to a sword strike...!"
Heonwon Chang, who had been smiling calmly beside him, let out an exclamation of admiration.
He had recognized the first form of Advancing Thunder, the second movement of the Infinite Flower of Time Fist. Perhaps because he had created and wielded his own martial arts, Jeong Yeon-shin was rapidly reaching a realm where he could seamlessly apply forces meant for entirely different purposes.
'The Desolate Fortress, the Nine Sects, and the Thirteen Heavens truly dwell above the clouds.'
At this moment, he realized that his martial arts belonged to a completely different world compared to the average local Jianghu.
Compared to the Eight-Fanged Rakshasa Sword of the Hegemon Sword Sect, these thugs felt like mere gnats.
There was no need to even stack his True Qi using the Scripture of Initial Overcoming. The thrown axe had felt incredibly light.
"Was throwing an axe your way of starting a conversation?"
As he took a step forward with his sword angled toward the floor, the Black Way thugs panicked. Jeong Yeon-shin paid them no mind and strode ahead.
He couldn't let the bald giant off easy, even if he spared the rest. That throw had been a clear, lethal strike intended to kill.
The casual ease of the attack proved how often the man had taken lives; murder was as natural to him as flowing water.
This was different from the Mantis Sect, who had been forced to confront Jeong Yeon-shin within their own grounds.
Countless innocent commoners must have fallen victim to this giant.
"Wait, wait! Let's talk!"
The giant waved his hands frantically, losing all will to resist after witnessing the sheer force of Advancing Thunder. At that exact moment, the Desolate Fortress Sword flashed.
The pure white light spreading from the long blade illuminated the giant's despair-filled face.
Slash!
Crimson blood sprayed vividly across the room, demanding an answer. The faces of the remaining thugs turned deathly pale.
* * *
The story began with the bloodbath that had swept through the marketplace following the destruction of the Jeong Family Manor.
A war had erupted among the Black Way factions over local commercial rights.
Yeon-shin listened quietly to the tale.
Amidst the chaos, the chief steward of the Jeong Family Manor had established a merchant group, growing it with remarkable resourcefulness.
Their primary trade was agricultural produce. Not only was the quality excellent, but his skillful negotiation and distribution networks allowed them to quickly expand beyond Xinye County.
However, the forest lands and remaining wealth of the ruined manor had been the foundation of this merchant group. There was no way the Black Way martial artists wouldn't target it.
They blinded the county magistrate with massive bribes, raided the merchant group, and dismantled it piece by piece. That was how a faction calling itself the Xinye White Martial Arts Sect was born.
"Those bastards!"
Heonwon Chang roared in anger.
The courtesans who had been entertaining the martial artists quietly slipped back to their brothel. They didn't even scream, seemingly accustomed to the sight of blood.
It was unclear what the county magistrate was even doing about all this.
"I trust you'll handle this well on your own."
"It should only take a day, right?"
"Since your family's land is at stake, I can help if you ask."
To the experts of the Demonlight Wing, this was a trivial matter.
The seniors patted their youngest, Jeong Yeon-shin, on the head or tapped his shoulder before heading to their guest rooms.
With his calm personality and stable martial prowess, the Flash Art had already earned deep trust within the Demonlight Wing after only two missions.
"Am I allowed to punish the county magistrate?"
"Once you reach the Black Rank, yes," Ma Jin replied to Jeong Yeon-shin's question. He then continued, "You've already wiped out the Mantis Sect all by yourself. You are clearly stronger now than you were then. A mere Black Way sect in Xinye County shouldn't be difficult. Do you need any extra hands?"
"I appreciate the offer, but I will handle it myself."
"As for the county magistrate here, I'll investigate him as soon as I return. I'm sure we'll dig up quite a lot."
Jeong Yeon-shin clasped his hands in gratitude. When he turned around, Heonwon Chang was grinning.
"I'm coming with you. Letting Young Hero Jeong, who isn't even twenty yet, perform a heroic deed all alone? That would bring shame to my title as the Divine Hero of the Desolate Fortress."
"This isn't a heroic deed."
"How is wiping out a Black Way sect not the work of a hero? Others wouldn't dare do it out of fear of getting hurt."
"Should I add your name to the Jeong Family Manor's Fish-Scale Register, Young Hero Heonwon?"
The Fish-Scale Register was the land registry of the Ming Dynasty.
It was a joke about giving him a piece of land, but Heonwon Chang shook his head with a serious expression.
"A Divine Hero is a hero precisely because he accepts no reward."
He had only seemed foolish back at the Desolate Fortress. Jeong Yeon-shin had been thinking this a lot lately.
Perhaps Heonwon Chang was indeed a great hero straight out of a legend.
He was undeniably a handsome man with a gallant impression. The Hero's Headband tied around his forehead suited him perfectly.
'It's just hard to take him seriously sometimes.'
The two immediately headed toward the Xinye White Martial Arts Sect. It wasn't far; they arrived in no time, without even needing to use the Desolate Fortress's lightness skills.
The elegant main gate was firmly shut. It seemed the sect had commandeered the small manor of some local influential figure.
"It's almost a shame to cut it down."
Despite his words, Heonwon Chang had already drawn his Desolate Fortress Sword.
With a single step, he spun like a northern gale.
A refined shockwave gathered on his blade, letting out a sharp sword ring. As his strike, delivered with silk-reeling power, shattered the gate, Jeong Yeon-shin kicked off the ground.
Splinter!
Wooden shrapnel scattered in all directions, deflected by the currents of wind wrapping around Jeong Yeon-shin's body.
Through the now wide-open entrance, martial artists holding various weapons came into sight. They had been expecting them.
It was often said that the great sects were the ones who hesitated to clash with the Desolate Fortress.
Small and medium-sized sects were ignorant of current events and rarely grasped the weight of rumors. They lacked the ability to properly assess their own strength against others.
Cheong-myeong's words flashed through his mind—that the term "ignorant fools" was meant for people exactly like this.
The Xinye White Martial Arts Sect was indeed full of bravado.
"Two fearless fools have come alone! We'll turn you bastards into fertilizer for our forest lands as well!"
The man who stepped forward with an arrogant air had a massive build. He seemed to be the leader of the Xinye White Martial Arts Sect.
"What are you waiting for? Kill them!"
Jeong Yeon-shin did not stop his charge.
The Radiant Brilliance Sword Style, rising alongside a faint beam of light, swept past the sect leader's neck first.
* * *
It was just as he finished destroying the dantians of the lackeys and gathering the documents related to the Jeong Family Manor.
Four people crossed the threshold of the Xinye White Martial Arts Sect. Their eyes, scanning the ruined surroundings, were filled with shock and astonishment.
It was likely due to the numerous Black Way martial artists lying on the ground, groaning in pain.
"Ah, we are already too late."
"What... what on earth is this..."
The arrivals consisted of two monks, a middle-aged man with graying hair, and the county magistrate of Xinye County dressed in his official robes.
They seemed to have rushed over after hearing the rumors from the tavern.
"You... aren't you the child of the Jeong family?"
The chubby-cheeked county magistrate recognized Jeong Yeon-shin.
Even if they didn't interact often, they knew each other's faces.
A martial sect and a county magistrate were not entirely separate entities.
It was common for sects to assist with public security when the local government was short-handed. In return, the magistrate would grant favors regarding tributes and business, maintaining a symbiotic relationship.
"The... the Desolate Fortress? You?"
"Young Master!"
Leaving the stuttering magistrate behind, someone rushed forward to stand right in front of him.
"You have truly become a martial artist of the Desolate Fortress! Heavens, a Blue Robe! This is truly like a dream!"
The middle-aged man whose face had instantly brightened was the chief steward of the Jeong Family Manor.
It seemed the rumors of the Demonlight Wing's Flash Art, which had been gradually spreading in Shaanxi, had not yet reached Henan.
"I heard you haven't been doing well, Chief Steward."
"I lacked the strength," the chief steward replied with a bitter smile.
Jeong Yeon-shin narrowed his eyes. The aura emanating from the man was different from before.
It was quite clear and carried a certain weight. This was a fundamental change that could hardly exist without studying proper orthodox martial arts.
"Did you join an Orthodox sect?"
"Yes. At my age, I have become a lay disciple of the Shaolin Temple. Heaven's luck was with me. I am truly grateful."
It was truly surprising. How long would it take to put into words the trials he had faced, from losing his merchant group to becoming a Shaolin disciple?
The complex emotions written on his face were explanation enough.
It seemed the chief steward had intended to borrow Shaolin's power to defeat the Black Way thugs of Xinye.
Yeon-shin had sensed his extraordinary nature even during the destruction of the Jeong Family Manor. He realized that such an outstanding man had been wasting away in the Jeong family.
The chief steward introduced the old monk standing quietly beside him.
"This is my master."
"I am called Won-jong," the old monk in yellow robes said, raising his right hand in front of his chest.
He formed a single-hand palm salute. It was the unique greeting of Shaolin.
His face, staring intently at Jeong Yeon-shin, was lined with the wrinkles of time.
"So you are Zen Master Won-jong. I am Jeong Yeon-shin of the Desolate Fortress."
Just as Jeong Yeon-shin clasped his hands in greeting, a new voice interrupted.
"Your martial skills are truly magnificent, Young Hero! I am Gakjeong!"
A young martial monk who had been wandering around inspecting the area approached.
He was exceptionally handsome. He had a well-shaped head and long, virtuous-looking ears. A Brightfolk martial monk of the Shaolin Temple.
Although it was difficult to gauge a Brightfolk's generation before speaking with them, it was immediately clear that he was not of an elder's age.
The Young Divine Monk Gakjeong. His name was already famous.
He was said to be one of the Great Shaolin Temple's Eighteen Arhats and a master of Shaolin Fist techniques. He was no ordinary rising star.
"Martial Uncle, may I speak with him?"
"Do as you wish. But before that..."
Zen Master Won-jong stared straight at Jeong Yeon-shin with weary eyes.
"Do you have some connection to our temple?"
"Today is my first time meeting experts of Shaolin."
"And yet, your body is highly unusual. It is as well-tempered as if you have practiced the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic."
The Bodhidharma Muscle Tendon Changing Classic. It was a martial art that few in the martial world did not know, and its origins were widely renowned.
It was said that Zen Master Bodhidharma had created it to temper the bodies and internal energy of the monks. It was said that the Shaolin Temple's 72 Supreme Arts began with the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic and ultimately returned to it.
Not only the chief steward's, but Gakjeong's eyes also widened.
"Come to think of it..."
Gakjeong's voice trailed off as he scanned Jeong Yeon-shin's physique. The chief steward simply stood there with an amazed expression.
He did so even though he likely knew that Jeong Yeon-shin had created the Jeong Family Dynamic Art and spent nearly ten years tempering his body with it.
Though he had become a lay disciple of Shaolin, he knew better than to speak carelessly.
"Young Hero Jeong. I do not believe you have stolen and practiced our temple's supreme art. That would be impossible," Gakjeong said.
"However, a good idea has occurred to me. I know your methods are highly practical from a secular perspective. Yet, to someone like me who has only practiced martial arts and Buddhism in a mountain temple, they seem a bit excessive. Since it is clear you will one day become one of the world's greatest experts, this bald monk cannot help but worry."
"What is it you wish to say?"
"A martial artist speaks through martial arts. I have mastered the Iron Sand Palm, one of our 72 Supreme Arts' external techniques, as well as the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic. Although the Muscle Tendon Changing Classic also serves as internal Qigong, you too seem to have tempered your body through a dynamic art. How about we compare our physical achievements, and the winner gets to make a request of the other? If you agree, I will give you this."
Gakjeong pulled a wooden box from the folds of his robe and opened it.
A sharp, herbal scent wafted out as a small pill was revealed.
"It is a Bright-Righteous Pill. I created it by passing down my clan's secret art to our temple's Medicine King Hall."
"A Bright-Righteous Pill!"
Heonwon Chang, who had been watching with a sullen expression, made a fuss.
He had just stepped out after searching the pavilion for wealth to distribute to the commoners.
Although the Great and Small Restoration Pills were renowned throughout the world, lately, medicines like Shaolin's Bright-Righteous Pill were also making a name for themselves.
It was said to instantly heal damaged Qi and blood. This was thanks to the integration of Brightfolk secrets with the medical arts of Shaolin's Medicine King Hall.
'I heard it's quite a precious medicine.'
It allowed one to fight again immediately even after suffering internal injuries. Was this the fairness of Shaolin?
Even though he sought to guide Yeon-shin, his attitude of politely offering the medicine first was impressive. Such a thing would be hard to find in any other martial sect.
Jeong Yeon-shin stared quietly into Gakjeong's clear eyes before nodding.
As Yeon-shin accepted the wooden box, Gakjeong grinned.
"Since Monk Gakjeong is giving me a gift, I will do my best."
"Haha! Thank you for humoring my meddling. And who knows? You might have to take that medicine right away, Young Hero."
It was an amusing provocation. He was implying that Yeon-shin might suffer internal injuries while competing in physical techniques.
Considering the formidable martial arts of Shaolin and the reputation of the Young Divine Monk, it was a reasonable claim.
"What is your request, Monk?"
"If I win, listen to my lecture on Buddhist dharma for two hours."
"...?"
"What, did you think I was going to ask you to shave your head and become a disciple of our main temple?"
As Gakjeong began to loosen up his limbs, he struck Jeong Yeon-shin as a peculiar individual.
The competitive spirit of a martial artist and the detachment of a Buddhist disciple seemed to intertwine within him, creating a bizarre personality. It wasn't a bad feeling.
"Let us begin."
"Very well."
Taking his stance, Jeong Yeon-shin knew instinctively.
If they were to use internal energy, he would still be far from matching the Young Divine Monk Gakjeong.
But when it came to physical conditioning, it was a different story. He had trained solely in the Jeong Family Dynamic Art for a long time and achieved great completion in it.
He felt it was worth a try.
Whoosh!
The moment the duel began, a dazzling flurry of fists and kicks rained down. Fists and legs struck toward his entire body, tracing all kinds of trajectories.
Only Jeong Yeon-shin's eyes moved according to his will. He captured every single essence of Shaolin's fist and kicking techniques in his gaze.
Whoosh! Thud!
The fist that struck his shoulder was by no means light. Even without True Qi, a powerful martial art was unleashed from Gakjeong's body.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not even make a proper counterattack for over twenty exchanges.
Just then, Gakjeong's robes, which had suddenly dropped low, fluttered with sharp precision.
A moment later, stamping both feet, he instantly lunged forward diagonally.
It appeared to be the Dragon Fist, one of the famous Five Shaolin Fists.
Bam!
The rising fist of Fa Jin exploded against his solar plexus. Was this a fist technique that manifested a rising dragon through a human body?
Even without internal energy, a cloud of dust billowed up from the impact. It was powerful enough to make one wonder if he had struck to kill.
"Hmm?"
Instead, it was Gakjeong who was pushed back two steps. The footprints he stamped into the dirt ground were deep.
Jeong Yeon-shin stood perfectly still with a serene expression. He was in the exact same spot where his feet had been planted when the duel began.
"..."
"Are you finished, Monk?" he asked quietly.