Chapter 44
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: Leech
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Tak!
My foot collided with the young monk's kick, sweeping low toward the ground like it was brushing the dirt away.
Almost simultaneously, a rock-hard fist shot up toward my abdomen.
I twisted my body to dodge the punch, then spun on my axis, aiming a kick at the young monk's head.
From beneath my spinning heel in midair, the young monk's fist burrowed upward.
Tak! Tatak! Tak! ...!
Fists grazed past each other, wrists clashed.
The young monk's form flickered side to side, splitting into dozens of afterimages.
Impressive fellow.
I couldn't help but admire his martial prowess as I matched his multiplied forms, moving my own body in kind.
Tatak! Tatatak! ...!
His dozens of forms filled every direction, clashing against mine. Hundreds of fists and feet flew back and forth.
The young monk's dozens of forms merged back into one, and he thrust both palms toward me.
Shooooaaa...
A surge of powerful energy erupted from his palms, sweeping over my entire body.
But I had already vanished from that spot.
Kwabang!
A pine tree standing behind where I'd been snapped in half under the force of the blast.
Below my airborne foot, I spotted the young monk's shiny bald head.
I dropped straight down, kicking at his skull.
He jerked his head back to evade, flipping his body upside down to launch a heel kick at my face.
His foot whistled past my cheek, and I shifted my form midair once more.
Pang! Puck!
In an instant, I closed the gap and drove my fist into his abdomen.
Guhk!
With a dying groan, the young monk plummeted from the sky to the ground.
His falling body flipped just before it could crash headfirst into the dirt.
He landed lightly on his feet and clutched his gut.
Kkeuung...
"Ah... ouch, that hurts. Amitabha. What sect are you from?"
His face flushed red—he must have been in serious pain.
"Cut the crap and hand over the silver, you damn con artist."
No matter how skilled his martial arts, this guy standing before me was nothing but a fraud.
"P-Patron. For Buddha's sake, forgive me this once. I want to pay back what I owe, but I don't have a single coin to my name."
I clenched my fist and advanced on the con monk.
He clutched his belly, gazing up at me with pleading eyes.
Puck! Kkwaek!
The con monk crumpled to the ground after taking a punch to the face.
"You rotten bastard."
Myeong-gak opened his eyes to find his entire body tightly bound to a large tree in the backyard.
Puhahaha...
He tried to laugh it off to steady his nerves, but it only made his swollen face hurt even more.
His left eye and cheek were so puffed up he could barely see.
Oof... my mouth won't move right. To think there's a guy in the jianghu who could corner me like this.
Never in his time wandering the jianghu had he faced an opponent like this.
No, he'd never lost even once.
I got cocky and paid for it. If Master saw me now, he'd be rolling on the floor laughing.
Myeong-gak felt a burning fighting spirit toward the young hunter—along with even greater curiosity.
"Awake?"
Right on cue, the young hunter appeared.
"Na-mo Amitabha, Kwanseum Bosal. This little monk is a disciple of Shaolin; my dharma name is Myeong-gak. Delighted to make your acquaintance."
The situation was ridiculous, but Myeong-gak wanted to get on good terms with the young hunter, so he politely revealed his identity.
And to get friendly, he needed to stick close somehow.
This con artist was a disciple of Shaolin—the preeminent sect hailed as the North Star of the jianghu.
A Shaolin disciple scamming people and even selling out Buddha? Unbelievable, and unacceptable.
"Hey, con man."
I approached the fraud tied to the tree and squatted down to meet his gaze.
His round face looked like a squished steamed bun from the swollen eyes and cheeks.
His already small, narrow eyes were practically invisible.
"Na-mo Amitabha, Kwanseum..."
Puck!
I smashed my fist into his remaining good cheek.
The bun-like face whipped around, then swelled red.
"Planning another scam? Do I look like an idiot to you?"
"Na-mo A..."
I raised my fist slightly, and the chanting con monk snapped his mouth shut.
"Where's my silver?"
"I don't have... a single coin. But give me a day or two, and I'll pay it back for sure."
How was a penniless con supposed to pay up in a day or two?
"Unbelievable."
I didn't buy the con monk's bullshit for a second.
"Fine. You can take a beating equal to the silver you stole."
Terrified of more punishment, the con monk started babbling nonsense.
"Instead of beatings, let this little monk do... do... chores around the house. I may not look it, but I'm great at cooking... and cleaning."
"Lying again..."
"It's true. If there's even a hint of falsehood, feel free to beat me to death."
This guy wasn't just no Shaolin monk—he couldn't possibly serve Buddha.
How could anyone devoted to Buddha so casually invite death by beating?
"Where'd you learn your martial arts?"
"From Shaolin... Ah, no... my master in seclusion has passed away."
I raised my fist again, and finally, the con monk spilled the truth.
What to do with this fraud?
He'd scammed me, sure, but I didn't want to kill him over fifty taels of silver.
It was a lot of money, but I wouldn't miss it right away or be inconvenienced.
Still, letting him go meant he'd scam someone else elsewhere.
And I couldn't keep him around for chores like he suggested.
I couldn't let him see me meeting the Great Heavenly Demon at night.
"Um... my throat's dry. Could I have a bowl of cool water?"
As I pondered, the con monk asked for water.
I went straight to the kitchen, scooped a bowl, and brought it out.
Jurururu...
I poured the cold water over his shiny bald head; it streamed down his face and into his mouth.
"Drink up."
Slurp slurp...
The con monk stuck out his tongue to lap it up, then suddenly glared up at me and yelled.
"Are you insulting this monk?"
"Why would I waste good water on an ugly con like you? Be grateful for this much."
The monk glared, then lowered his eyes and bowed his head deeply.
"Na-mo... Na-mo Amitabha, Kwanseum Bosal."
Myeong-gak snorted and shook his head, watching the young hunter's retreating back.
What a nasty patron. Sticking close won't be easy.
Master had sent him here to learn about that young hunter, no doubt.
But their past grudge made friendship a real challenge.
He couldn't just return to Shaolin empty-handed—Master would chew him out and kick him out again.
This is driving me nuts. Na-mo Amitabha, Kwanseum Bosal.
After much deliberation, Myeong-gak felt drowsiness wash over him and let his head droop comfortably.
Screw it. Sleep first, deal with the rest later.
Thus, bound to the tree, he drifted off for about half a shichen—until he jolted awake in shock.
Chwiirup...
He slurped the drool back into his mouth.
"How long was I out?"
Whoooong...
Inner energy coursed through his body, puffing out his robes.
Twang.
The ropes snapped, and Myeong-gak stood, brushing himself off.
He strolled slowly to the kitchen, poking around, lifting pot lids.
Everything's neat. That's the rice bin, jars of salt-cured meat and fish.
His eyes caught a black iron ball amid the kitchen clutter.
What's this?
Sniff sniff...
A rich spice aroma filled his nostrils.
A mortar for grinding spices?
Turning the iron ball this way and that, Myeong-gak read the characters etched on its surface.
It pulses with mysterious energy, but I can't make heads or tails of the words.
He set it down and scooped rice from the bin, rinsing it in water.
He set the rice to steam, then went to the backyard to pluck greens for salad, washed the salted fish for soup, and grilled the cured meat.
"What are you doing?"
I glared at the con monk busily cooking in the kitchen.
"Can't you see? I'm making rice."
"Why?"
"Why? Didn't I say I'd do chores?"
"Who said you could?"
The con monk suddenly turned solemn, pressed his palms together, and bowed.
"Na-mo Amitabha, Kwanseum Bosal. I just met a big burly hunter. He said it's okay for me to stay here."
What kind of idiot was this?
The big hunter had to be Gwang-u.
But he was staying with the Seok family, not here.
I stepped into the kitchen and closed in on the con monk.
He backed away nervously.
"If I'm lying, Buddha won't forgive..."
"You're such an incorrigible con. How could you meet Gwang-u when he's not even here?"
As the monk's eyes widened in shock, my fist smashed into his face.
Puck! Kkwaek!
I hauled the sprawled con out to the backyard and started eating the meat and soup he'd prepared.
"This guy's something else..."
He hadn't lied completely.
The food was shockingly good, just like he claimed.
I stuffed myself fuller than I had in ages.
As I finished, Myeong-gak reappeared, his face even more bruised and swollen.
"Don't think I'm cowering from you and taking these beatings. I'm only accepting them for my sins."
"Got it. Just eat."
The solemn-faced Myeong-gak broke into a grin and rushed to the table.
Crunch crunch, slurp slurp...
I watched him devour the food with quiet intensity.
This guy was no monk, that much was clear.
How could a real monk scarf down meat like that?
"Where'd you hide my silver?"
Crunch crunch...
Myeong-gak shoved meat into his mouth and replied casually.
"I used it for poor souls with nothing. Don't be too upset."
"Keep lying?"
"Not a lie."
I gripped my fist tight, then suddenly recalled village rumors from before.
Someone found silver outside their door in the morning. Folks gossiped whenever they gathered.
That was just two days after I'd been scammed out of fifty taels.
This might actually be true...
I started seeing the con in a new light.
I'd thought him a thief deserving death, but he didn't seem inherently evil.
"What's your name?"
"Didn't I say Myeong-gak earlier?"