Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Shaolin Temple (1)
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Dengbong County, Henan Province.
A small city right next door to Shaolin Temple, the Pole Star of the martial world, had been swarming with crowds for the past few days.
"Ugh, what the hell? Where did all these people come from?"
Sima Geon and Cheol Woo, who had arrived in Dengbong County just a day after leaving Jeongju, were utterly flustered by the unexpected throng.
"It's not even that big a city. This is weird."
Sima Geon scanned the streets filled with people of all ages and genders strutting about in colorful attire.
"Whatever's going on, let's fill our stomachs first, boss. Haven't eaten all day—my stomach's practically stuck to my back."
Cheol Woo rubbed his taut, bronze-muscled lower belly and whined dramatically.
"That might not be so easy either."
Sima Geon sighed, pointing at the inns packed to the brim with customers.
"No way we can't find a spot for one meal. We'll get lucky eventually."
Cheol Woo grabbed Sima Geon's arm and dragged him along. But it wasn't easy at all.
It took a full half an hour before they finally scored some liquor, stir-fried pork, and a bowl of thin noodles.
"What a madhouse. And why's everything so damn expensive?"
Cheol Woo grumbled, shaking a liquor bottle roughly.
"Shut up and pour. Least we got lucky snagging these seats."
"Fair enough."
Cheol Woo flashed a triumphant grin at the folks still milling about, unable to find spots.
"Hey, kid."
Cheol Woo, having downed his bottle in one go, called over a scurrying young waiter and shook the empty.
"More booze here. Not these puny bottles—bring a big jug."
The waiter, about to snap back, caught Cheol Woo's glare and quietly fetched a jug the size he wanted.
"Hold up, kid."
Cheol Woo called him back as he turned to leave.
"What now?"
The kid's face was sullen, annoyance plain as day.
"Got a few questions."
Cheol Woo tossed him a coin, and the boy's attitude flipped like a switch.
"Yes, sir. Ask away."
His hand deftly pocketed the coin while glancing around—quite the pro.
"What's with all the people in this little town? What's the big deal?"
The waiter looked at him like he'd grown a second head.
"The dharma assembly's been going on for days."
"Dharma assembly? At Shaolin?"
"Yeah. Everyone's flocking to see it. Well, technically, it's for the big Buddhist rite in three days."
As Sima Geon and Cheol Woo stared blankly, the waiter's eyes widened.
"You mean you came here without knowing? It's not just here—the whole province, even nearby ones, are buzzing."
"What? Of course we knew."
Cheol Woo straightened up stiffly, but anyone could tell he was faking it.
The waiter sighed, about to explain more, but his boss's bellow made him turn—until another coin from Cheol Woo changed that. He darted back whenever he could, spilling details on the Shaolin assembly and rite.
"Huge Buddhist rite at Shaolin in three days. Even the Emperor's uncle's attending. They've got imperial troops blanketing the area already."
"If the Emperor's uncle is coming, it must be massive."
Sima Geon showed interest, and the kid lit up, chattering away.
"Some guest said the Enthronement Rite for the Buddha hasn't happened in ages—over a century. Folks from near and far are pouring in, no journey too long."
The waiter lowered his voice suddenly.
"Plus, all these ass-kissers hoping to cozy up to the Emperor's uncle. That's why the chaos."
His eyes scanned the room irritably—business was brutal.
"So what's this Enthronement Rite?"
The waiter's eyes bulged at Cheol Woo's question, clearly dying to call him ignorant but holding back.
"It's enshrining the Buddha statue in the hall. This one's solid gold, huge too, they say."
"Gold? Now that's throwing money around."
Cheol Woo snorted. The waiter winced and whispered fiercely.
"Watch your mouth—you'll get in deep shit. Guy from the palace was just sitting here. One slip, and poof, gone without a trace."
"Won't happen. Anyway, thanks for the rundown."
Cheol Woo smirked and slipped him two more coins. The kid bowed smoothly, then paused as if remembering something.
"Honestly, though? Not really throwing money away."
"Huh?"
"Heard the Emperor's uncle's daughter had a bad illness. Shaolin cured her. After that, what's a fortune?"
The kid stuck out his tongue and scurried off. Cheol Woo looked sheepish.
"Kid's got a knack for embarrassing folks."
"A big rite like this right now? Heaven's on our side. Might go smoother than expected. Key is finding that Great Reversion Pill, though."
"Why worry? Worst case, grab some fancy-looking monk and ask. Hell, they might even have it on display in the grand hall, showing off."
"Ha! Wouldn't that be perfect."
Sima Geon chuckled dryly and tossed back the last of his liquor.
"Let's head to Shaolin. Gotta clash first. Even if we die, better know the lay of the land."
Sima Geon shot up, and Cheol Woo hastily drained his cup and followed.
"Hey, boss."
"Yeah?"
"Earlier... you get what that Enthronement Rite is? Pretty sure the kid smirked."
"......"
Sima Geon paused, smacked Cheol Woo's shoulder, and quickened his pace.
"Kid was right—the vibe's no joke."
Cheol Woo eyed the imperial soldiers stationed at every choke point leading to Shaolin.
"Obviously. Emperor's uncle's on the move."
"But with that skill level? Just numbers—no real punch."
"Real masters are elsewhere."
"Yeah? Heh heh! Dying to test 'em."
A massive cheer erupted just as Cheol Woo grinned eagerly.
"Woooah!"
Sima Geon and Cheol Woo's gazes followed the roar.
Off the road, a large banner reading "Dengbong Martial Hall" fluttered from a pole, surrounded by a decent crowd.
"Again?"
Cheol Woo looked bored.
He'd seen a dozen similar scenes on the way. Local dojos had emptied out completely.
"In a way, this is Shaolin's real power."
Sima Geon glanced at the martial demo.
Even just forms brimmed with precision and vigor.
"True. Heard there are tons of halls around here. All disciples or connected somehow—could muster a huge force if needed."
"Why they're the Pole Star. Anyway, let's hurry."
"But boss."
"What?"
"We going like this?"
Sima Geon stared blankly, but Cheol Woo poked his own cheek.
"This. Gotta change it."
"Oh, right."
Sima Geon realized, and while eyes were on the demo, he unleashed Transformation Art. His face shifted instantly to the one he'd used at the Hahu Clan tournament.
Cheol Woo followed suit.
Same fierce vibe, but eyes and mouth subtly altered. Up close, it felt off-balance somehow.
"How's that, boss? Perfect, right?"
"......"
Sima Geon stared silently, sighed, and turned away.
No one from Black Dragon Valley outdid Cheol Woo at Transformation Art—except maybe him.
"Huh? Why the face? Weird?"
Cheol Woo chased after, pestering, but Sima Geon stayed mum. Pursuer and pursued hurried on, reaching Shaolin exactly half an hour later.
"Ugh, insane."
Cheol Woo shook his head in dismay.
The mountain gate swarmed with pilgrims, tourists, vendors, and soldiers—like a full-blown market.
"Emperor's uncle's clout is real. At least five hundred troops around. But who'd lose to those scarecrows?"
Cheol Woo sneered at the clustered soldiers.
"Soldiers handle civilians. Real deal for us martial folk is separate. Probably them."
Sima Geon nodded toward a group camped a bit from the gate.
About thirty strong.
In purple uniforms with golden robes, they chatted casually—but eyes sharply scanned entrants.
"Emperor's Brocade Guard, I bet."
Cheol Woo eyed them boredly.
"Fancy feast, no food—same as soldiers. Monks look tougher."
Sima Geon smirked at the young monks bustling with guiding crowds. Gentle smiles, kindly faces—but couldn't fully hide the subtle aura radiating from them.
"They do look strong. But no comparing to Shaolin disciples. Reps of the martial world and all..."
Sima Geon trailed off mid-laugh.
"What?"
He chin-nodded.
"We misjudged. Underestimated the court. Real ones were hidden."
Cheol Woo turned.
The Brocade Guards, once lax, now stood rigidly disciplined. Iron Gaze caught why: three middle-aged men approaching from the gate.
"Impressed?"
"You're right, boss. Brocade Guard's gotta have that level."
Cheol Woo sized them up—on par with top sect elders. Especially the rightmost one chatting with a trailing young monk: a master even he rarely met.
"Feels just like that old geezer."
"Who?"
"The one we bumped into at Golden Fox Lair."
Sima Geon got it instantly.
"Namgung Clan?"
"Yeah."
"Yep. Similar vibe."
Sima Geon nodded, picturing Namgung Kyung.
"Anyway, better stay sharp."
"Worrywart. Worst case, sweep 'em all. Long as this doesn't snag us."
Cheol Woo grinned, patting his face.
"Not funny. Focus."
Sima Geon sobered; Cheol Woo flinched and looked away. Feeling he'd overreacted, Sima Geon patted his shoulder.
"Just tense. Don't sulk."
"Who’s sulking?!"
"Good, then."
Sima Geon poked Cheol Woo's side as he fumed, glancing around.
"No good drawing eyes. Let's move."
But Cheol Woo's massive frame—head and shoulders above most, face fierce—already pulled stares.
Proof: their surroundings oddly clear amid the market-like chaos at the gate.
Unlike Sima Geon, who minded the gawks, Cheol Woo strutted bolder, shoulders squared.
"Interesting pair."
Even chatting with the guest-receiving monk, Jo Ryong hadn't missed Sima Geon and Cheol Woo's movements—his eyes gleaming meaningfully.