Chapter 222
Chapter 222
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 222
Chapter Title: The Burning Shaolin Temple (2)
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"Insane!"
As soon as the Iron Blood Palace forces entered the Shaolin Temple grounds, Jwa Geom—who had split off with his own troops to seize the Sutra Pavilion—stood speechless before the scene unfolding before him.
A massive building rivaling the Grand Buddha Hall was engulfed in flames. Had it not been for the plaque that had just fallen from the eaves, even he might not have recognized it as the Sutra Pavilion amid the blaze.
"What are you all standing around for? Hurry and put out the fire!"
At Jwa Geom's shout, his men stripped off their uniforms to beat at the flames and scooped up dirt from the surroundings to smother them. But quenching the raging inferno proved impossible. At best, they leaped into areas where the fire was weaker and salvaged whatever they could grab.
"Who the hell did this?"
Jwa Geom snatched up the fallen plaque from the ground and bellowed in fury. His subordinates were just as baffled.
"Clan Leader."
Jwa Geom irritably whipped his head around at Ye Chan's call from the Ghost Spirit Clan.
"What?"
"None of us could have started the fire. No one arrived here before you, Clan Leader."
"Then why is it burning...? Don't tell me it was the North Sea Ice Palace bastards?"
Jwa Geom's eyes turned icy cold, his face twisting as if a treasure had been snatched from his grasp.
"I couldn't confirm that for sure, but what is certain is..."
Before he could finish, Gong Mang—a man who had just rushed into the Sutra Pavilion and come back out—grabbed Ye Chan's arm, gasping for breath.
"You okay? Don't push yourself too hard. The whole thing could collapse any moment."
Ye Chan gazed worriedly at Gong Mang, who was charred black from head to toe.
"Doesn't look like the North Sea Ice Palace's doing, Clan Leader."
Gong Mang clutched his throat, struggling to breathe.
"What are you talking about?"
"There was a charred corpse inside the Sutra Pavilion. It was burned in a seated meditation posture, so it must have been..."
"A seated meditation posture? You mean a Shaolin monk?"
Jwa Geom asked incredulously.
"Yes. And from what I could tell, the fire didn't start from the outside—it began from within."
"You sure about that?"
"That's how it looked."
Gong Mang spoke with a hint of uncertainty, but the moment Jwa Geom heard about the corpse in seated meditation, he could guess how the fire in the Sutra Pavilion had started.
"Damn it all! Ye Chan."
"Yes, Clan Leader."
"Tell everyone to pull back. We can't sacrifice our men just to save a few scorched books."
"Understood."
Ye Chan rushed off to relay Jwa Geom's order to the men battling the flames.
"If they can't have it, they'll burn it all. Those ruthless bastards!"
Jwa Geom ground his teeth.
"Retreat!"
"Fall back, everyone!"
With all of Shaolin's leadership fallen, Cheon Su Singae—the Beggars' Sect leader who had been rallying the scattered heroes and commanding the battlefield to the very end—finally issued the order to withdraw.
The North Sea Ice Palace warriors did not pursue the fleeing rabble. A few, driven by rage, gave chase swinging their blades, but they were the exception. Though their leaders had commanded victory, the warriors were too exhausted to hunt down a scattering foe.
"The casualties are worse than expected."
Buk Ri Deung sighed as he surveyed the corpses strewn about. He had racked up merits at the vanguard by crushing Gong Hu, only to suffer a grievous wound from Dalma Wonju Won Jin's strike and withdraw.
Most of the hundreds of bodies belonged to Shaolin monks and the Beggars' Sect members and heroes who had rushed to their aid. Yet the North Sea Ice Palace and its northern allies had taken heavy losses too. In particular, the Cheonho Sect—which had stood at the forefront and clashed fiercely with late-arriving Beggars' Sect reinforcements—had been virtually annihilated.
"Without the Three Wolf Corps' exploits, it would have been far worse."
Buk Ri Hwang spared no praise for the Three Wolf Corps, who had shone brilliantly against Shaolin's main forces.
The Blood Wolf had clashed with the Arhats of the Arhat Hall, while Azure Wolf and White Wolf had battled the experts of the Heavenly Kings Hall. Their casualties were so severe they couldn't recover in a short time. Especially White Wolf, who had stepped in against Shaolin's leadership after the Four Heavenly Kings inexplicably withdrew—they were the only survivors, few as they were.
"You holding up alright?"
Buk Ri Deung scanned Buk Ri Hwang from head to toe.
Buk Ri Hwang had barely escaped with his life from his duel with Won Jin, and he looked the part.
"I'm fine. And you, Uncle? You look far worse off than me."
Buk Ri Deung shook his head exaggeratedly as Buk Ri Hwang's gaze fell on his limp arm.
"That first old monk smashed my shoulder good. The late-arriving elder was formidable, but so was the earlier one—a real expert. I nearly lost my neck there."
Buk Ri Deung recalled Gong Hu, who had wrecked his shoulder, and gripped his arm—which dangled uselessly against his will. With no sensation left, recovery seemed impossible.
"By the way, that friend of yours still...?"
"Yes."
"No danger to his life?"
"No."
"Don't hold it against him too much. Even an elder might have done the same. Of course, jumping into a one-on-one duel isn't easily forgiven. It'll bruise his pride, and he might call it cowardly. But for him, it was the best he could do."
"I know."
"Your life is yours, but it's also all of ours. Don't forget that."
Buk Ri Hwang nodded with a bitter smile.
"I'll keep it in mind."
"Good. That's all that matters. Now, about our victory..."
Buk Ri Hwang's expression hardened as he followed Buk Ri Deung's gaze.
Black smoke was billowing from the Shaolin Temple grounds.
"Iron Blood Palace! Those mad bastards!"
A curse burst from Buk Ri Hwang's lips.
"So that's all of it?"
Eum Jeok So pointed incredulously at the half-burned books.
Jwa Geom's men had risked their lives amid the fierce flames, but the salvaged texts were fewer than expected.
"We had no choice. Even this was pulled out at the cost of our men's lives."
Jwa Geom glanced warily at Eum Jeok So before continuing.
"By the time we got here, the Sutra Pavilion was already ablaze. The men who rushed inside said a Shaolin monk was burned in seated meditation. He must have started it."
"Ha!"
Eum Jeok So pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.
"He set it on himself?"
"Yeah."
"If he'd go that far, it means he didn't want to hand over a speck of dust to us. Right?"
"W-Well, you could interpret it that way..."
Jwa Geom trailed off, sensing something ominous in Eum Jeok So's tone.
"Is that so? Then we should grant his wish."
Eum Jeok So strode toward the still-burning Sutra Pavilion.
The main blaze had died down, and the building had collapsed, but embers lingered here and there.
Eum Jeok So yanked out a burning pillar and headed to a nearby hall, not far from the pavilion.
He tore off his bloodstained uniform and fed it to the flames, building them higher.
Everyone watched with wide eyes, suspecting what was coming.
Their suspicions turned to reality in an instant.
The pillar blazed like a torch and flew toward the hall.
Smoke rose briefly, then fierce flames erupted. In moments, the fire engulfed the entire structure.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Jwa Geom rushed over, shouting.
"Granting his wish. Why? Problem?"
Jwa Geom averted his eyes from the madness in Eum Jeok So's gaze.
"No. Who are we to question the Palace Lord's actions?"
"Exactly?"
Eum Jeok So turned away with a smirk.
"What are you waiting for? Burn it all down."
At Eum Jeok So's command, the Iron Blood Palace warriors didn't hesitate. Instead, they cackled as they set fires throughout the Shaolin grounds.
Jong Yo approached Eum Jeok So, watching the rising flames from all directions with a grim expression.
"Palace Lord."
"What? Come to stop me?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"The prisoners we captured in the grounds..."
"Kill them. After all the men we lost to that handful? Wait, no—better yet, grant their wish too. Let them share Shaolin's final moments, the place they cherished like their lives."
Eum Jeok So whipped his head around and ordered,
"Drag them all here."
Moments later, some sixty-odd monks were hauled in, haggard and worn. From young ones barely in their thirties to elderly monks bent double and barely able to walk, they spanned all ages.
"What do you plan to do with them?"
At Jong Yo's question, Eum Jeok So pointed matter-of-factly at the burning hall.
"Send them off together, like I said."
"You can't."
Jong Yo shook his head firmly.
"Can't, you say...?"
Eum Jeok So's gaze toward Jong Yo grew infinitely colder.
"Why not? Give me a proper reason. I value my troops, but I'm not magnanimous enough to spare those who cross the line."
Even under Eum Jeok So's menacing warning, Jong Yo stood his ground.
He pointed to the severely wounded or utterly exhausted among the captives.
"Do what you want with those."
Jong Yo's eyes shifted to another group.
"But not them."
"So, what's the reason?"
"They're scholar-monks."
"Scholar-monks?"
"Yes. Not martial artists—they devote themselves solely to studying and researching the sutras..."
"Still Shaolin monks, aren't they?"
"Similar, but different."
As Eum Jeok So's face twisted in incomprehension, Jong Yo grew even more grave.
"There are two reasons not to kill scholar-monks. First, it could lose us the hearts of the people."
"Hearts of the people? Hahaha! You're joking, right, Strategist? Since when did we care about that?"
Eum Jeok So burst into laughter at the absurdity, but Jong Yo continued calmly, unperturbed.
"Second, killing scholar-monks could draw in the authorities."
Eum Jeok So's laughter cut off at the word "authorities."
"The authorities?"
"Yes. Shaolin has long maintained close ties with the government, especially the imperial court. Shaolin monks attend major national events, and imperial clansmen visit for great temple ceremonies. It's an unwritten rule that the authorities stay out of Jianghu affairs, but if word spreads that even scholar-monks were slaughtered, the court will intervene for the sake of face."
"The imperial court, huh."
Eum Jeok So muttered with a sour expression.
He wasn't particularly afraid of imperial involvement. Their forces were limited, and worst case, they could retreat to their great stronghold. But it would be a hassle, and it would disrupt their grand plans.
"You've got a point."
Eum Jeok So's gaze toward Jong Yo had softened.
His warning could have earned fear, but Jong Yo's bold candor—risking his life for it—only deepened the trust.
"Fine, the scholar-monks or whatever. But those ones are fair game?"
Eum Jeok So pointed at the injured warrior-monks.
"Those... yes. They might complain if you target them too, but it won't provoke as much backlash as killing scholar-monks."
"Good enough."
Clapping his hands, Eum Jeok So commanded his waiting men.
"Hurry it up. Before the flames die, we'll offer a human sacrifice to the Buddha. Kuhahaha!"
As Eum Jeok So's mad laughter rang out, the warrior-monks were dragged toward the blazing halls.
Just as the frenzied Iron Blood Palace warriors prepared to hurl them into the inferno, North Sea Ice Palace forces—who had rushed over upon spotting the Sutra Pavilion fire—intercepted them.