Exiled Monk (2)
‘Me...?’
Hyeon Yucheon’s brow twitched at the voice calling for him.
It was already surprising enough that a young Shaolin monk had come to this place, but for him to be seeking him specifically?
What was even more amusing was that, from what he could guess, the monk didn’t even know what he looked like.
“You seem to be from Shaolin Temple. Why are you looking for a bandit leader like that?”
A playful impulse struck Hyeon Yucheon, and he feigned ignorance, putting on an act.
Just then, So Jaun was standing close beside him, making the handsome, youthful Hyeon Yucheon look every bit the picture of a young couple.
“Hmm, looks like he hasn’t arrived yet. And... bandit leader? Where do you get off saying something so rude?”
Hyeon Yucheon inwardly admired the response.
This is getting interesting.
For a Shaolin monk—one of the pillars of the righteous sects in the martial world, no less—to defend him? That was something you didn’t see every day.
“From what I’ve heard, he torments the people of the righteous sects and breaks the precept against killing left and right. Why would you defend someone like that, monk?”
Hyeon Yucheon played the part of a martial world outsider, putting on a show with exaggerated flair.
Most folks ignorant of the jianghu held preconceptions about unorthodox warriors.
“Amitabha. Rumors are just that—rumors. Judging people without verified facts is misguided. And besides...”
Jeong Myeong spoke as if he knew Hyeon Yucheon inside and out.
“From what I’ve heard, it’s the opposite. He only targets those who sinned against his master, the one who passed everything to him. He never touches the weak or powerless. And aren’t they the true criminals for their cowardly deeds?”
Hoo...
Hyeon Yucheon couldn’t help but be impressed by Jeong Myeong’s perspective.
He’d been out in the martial world for quite some time now, and through his master’s experiences and memories, he knew plenty of warriors. But someone like this? A first.
Especially among the narrow-minded righteous sect folk—and a Shaolin man, at that. Such views were exceedingly rare.
Hyeon Yucheon had never much cared for Shaolin to begin with.
Thanks to Fist Buddha Cheollim Seonsa—one of the Heaven’s Five Venerables—and Jonghun, the Hongbulgeom who’d personally slain his parents, he hated them more than any other orthodox sect.
But this? His interest was piqued.
“If I may be so bold, might I ask your monastic name, monk?”
Deep curiosity about Jeong Myeong welled up in Hyeon Yucheon, and he was about to ask his name when—
Hm?
Suddenly, numerous presences gathered around the guest house.
“Damn it! Already?!”
Jeong Myeong sensed them too.
His level had already surpassed the peak realm, so he noticed almost immediately.
And sure enough—
Krunch!
The guest house door shattered, and several monks burst in.
Each one had a massive build brimming with powerful inner energy, resembling the Four Guardian Kings of Buddhist lore.
These were Shaolin’s finest warriors, bar none except the abbot himself.
The Four Vajras.
“Jeong Myeong! You know your crimes well enough.”
Outside the rundown guest house, the Eighteen Arhats had formed a perimeter, ensuring no one could slip away. Inside, Great Power Buddha Cheolgyun led the Four Vajras in blocking the entrance.
Just in case, they’d prepared for every contingency, lest Jeong Myeong escape.
Jeong Myeong?
That Little Divine Monk Jeong Myeong?
My god!
At Cheolgyun calling his name, Hyeon Yucheon’s group gasped in unison.
They were already stunned by the sudden arrival of Shaolin’s elite forces—the Four Vajras and Eighteen Arhats, representing over half the temple’s might.
But to think the clear-aura monk before them was the Little Divine Monk, prime candidate for next abbot? Unthinkable.
“Do I... have crimes to answer for?”
Jeong Myeong was startled but refused to cower.
He felt no shame before the heavens.
“You insolent wretch! You let yourself be bewitched by some vile demon, betrayed your lifelong benefactor the Seonsa-nim, and abandoned Shaolin—and that’s not a crime?!”
Cheolgyun was angry enough, but Blood Maitreya Cheolwon—hot-tempered as ever—exploded in fury, bellowing.
His eerie nickname, unfit for a monk, perfectly captured his fiery disposition.
“It wasn’t betrayal... I left to find answers. Didn’t Dharma Patriarch himself journey east in search of truth?”
Unlike the raging Four Vajras, Jeong Myeong remained calm.
“You dare compare yourself to the Dharma Patriarch? He left for truth and enlightenment. You? For some unorthodox bandit. Pathetic.”
Cheolwon snarled, and Cheolgyun nodded in agreement.
Ah, no point talking to these walls.
Jeong Myeong hid his deep frustration.
It felt like yelling at a brick wall.
No matter how long they talked, they’d never understand each other.
“In any case, Jeong Myeong, one-time prime disciple of Shaolin! You’ve committed the grave sin of betraying master and ancestors, and deserted the temple without permission... By the will of Shaolin Abbot Cheollim Seonsa, as of this moment, we declare your excommunication!”
Jeong Myeong flinched.
At the word “excommunication,” even his steadfast composure paled.
Truth be told, he hadn’t left Shaolin out of hatred.
Just curiosity.
He’d been taught to spend life accumulating merit there, yet Shaolin’s actions contradicted it. He wanted to know why.
But excommunication for that?
“...Understood. I, Jeong Myeong, will return all the martial arts and inner power I received from Shaolin.”
In most prestigious orthodox sects, betraying master and ancestors was punished harshly to prevent technique leaks: severing tendons, crippling the dantian, scattering all inner power.
In essence, ending one’s life as a warrior.
And it didn’t stop there.
“That’s only fitting. Jeong Myeong, you’ll spend the rest of your days in the Repentance Cave.”
Great Power Buddha Cheolgyun, leader of the Four Vajras, glared sternly.
It was a double blow.
Imprisonment in the Repentance Cave meant stripping away even a normal life.
“How can they...”
Betrayed by the Shaolin he’d trusted, Jeong Myeong trembled violently.
I understand taking back the arts and power I gained there.
But once excommunicated, no longer Shaolin’s, who had the right to bind his freedom?
Not even the emperor.
“Refusing won’t help.”
Cheolwon’s eyes still blazed with fury, while
“Quietly come to our Vajra Hall and beg forgiveness from Cheollim Seonsa.”
Even the kinder Lotus Finger Cheoljeong closed his eyes, memories of young Jeong Myeong flashing by, and offered advice.
“Even if Shaolin gave me everything, there’s no such law.”
But Jeong Myeong wasn’t one to obey meekly.
If he were, he’d never have left Shaolin.
Swish!
As Jeong Myeong showed signs of resistance and the Four Vajras moved to act—
“What a spectacle.”
A cold voice laced with mockery came from the opposite side.
The speaker? None other than Demon Sword Young Master Hyeon Yucheon.
“We’re Shaolin monks. If you don’t want trouble, finish your meal with your wife and stay out of it.”
Dismissing Hyeon Yucheon as some pampered rich heir meddling in, the Four Vajras ignored him.
Even rough monks didn’t harm laypeople.
“Shaolin this, bullshit that... Did Cheollim Seonsa say to discard any disciple who doesn’t suit your taste?”
Hyeon Yucheon showed no fear before the Four Vajras.
“What a lunatic.”
“Daring to insult our abbot!”
“Foreigner or not, that’s grave sin.”
Even the mild Lotus Finger Cheoljeong bulged his eyes.
He judged Hyeon Yucheon had crossed the line.
“I don’t know who you are, but our abbot isn’t one to hear such words.”
Hyeon Yucheon couldn’t hold back a sneer at the stern, angry Cheoljeong.
“Even if the whole world praises Cheollim, I have the right to curse him.”
Sensing something off, Cheolgyun stepped forward.
“Just who the hell are you?”
Hyeon Yucheon, as if he’d been waiting, revealed himself.
“Demon Sword Sect Leader, Demon Sword Young Master Hyeon Yucheon.”
The air froze the instant he declared his identity.
Starting with the Four Vajras who’d asked.
“Wh-what? Y-you’re the Demon Sword Young Master?!”
Even Jeong Myeong—the Little Divine Monk who’d abandoned Shaolin to meet him—shook his head in disbelief.
He’d figured Hyeon Yucheon was nearby somewhere, not right under his nose.
But more than that, the shock stemmed from elsewhere.
So young?
Jeong Myeong was genuinely stunned.
He looked even younger than himself, yet he’d upended the martial world? Impossible.
And those eyes—languid yet profoundly deep.
Staring into them felt like sinking into an abyssal sea.
“Little Divine Monk Jeong Myeong.”
Hyeon Yucheon liked him too.
Too fine a talent to have his tendons severed and dantian crippled over Shaolin’s rigid dogma.
Jeong Myeong’s skeletal structure was near-perfect for a righteous sect warrior.
Not just physically robust—his intellect and even temperament were flawless.
His stubbornness was a minor flaw, but Hyeon Yucheon was confident he could fix that.
“You wanted to meet me. Does that still hold?”
Though similar in age, Hyeon Yucheon was a sect leader, while Jeong Myeong was merely a prime disciple.
“Y-yes? Yes!”
Aware of it, Jeong Myeong used honorifics, and Hyeon Yucheon spoke casually.
Confirming Jeong Myeong’s resolve unchanged, Hyeon Yucheon finally stepped forward.
Step, step.
His gait seemed that of a spoiled rich heir, loose and carefree—yet the elite Four Vajras froze, unable to twitch.
That’s him...!
The unorthodox supreme targeting Seonsa-nim!
Demon Sword Young Master Hyeon Yucheon!
The four shared the same dread in their eyes, despite differences.
Shock at encountering such a monstrous villain here!
Even more bewildering: Hyeon Yucheon’s interest in Jeong Myeong.
“I overheard... Shaolin’s excommunicating this friend of yours?”
As the Four Vajras froze and the oblivious Eighteen Arhats outside waited silently, Hyeon Yucheon smiled leisurely.
“Mind if I take him off your hands?”