Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Shaolin Temple (3)
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[Is this it? There's one more reason, right?]
Cheol Woo sent a discreet sound transmission to Mu Ho, who was walking ahead, while eyeing him carefully.
[Yeah. I overheard that if you donate generously to the reconstruction before heading to the Great Hero Hall, they'll provide lodging at Shaolin Temple.]
[So money's king after all. Damn, isn't it too discriminatory for a place that worships Buddha?]
A sneer crept into the corners of Cheol Woo's eyes as he stared at Mu Ho's back.
[We'll see how it goes. Lodging's limited, and the temple's swarming with visitors. How could they accommodate everyone?]
[Just house the ones who arrived first.]
[Some did, but even that's got limits. Plus, with the Imperial Consort coming, all these puffed-up bigshots are strutting around. Look at them. They're everywhere, tripping over each other.]
Sima Geon pointed out men striding arrogantly in splendid robes, flanked by what looked like escorts. There were more than a few like that.
[Fine, whatever. But do we really need to stay here? Drawing this much attention isn't great. Better to leave casually and sneak back at night.]
[The Imperial Consort arrives tomorrow. As you saw, the Embroidered Uniform Guard and imperial troops are already posted everywhere. Shaolin will tighten security too.]
[This is annoying. Boss, are those paper tigers really a problem for us?]
Cheol Woo tilted his chin up with an arrogant expression.
[That's why it's a hassle. It's just more convenient to move around from inside. Easier to gather intel through others too.]
Sima Geon's voice took on a slightly irritable edge.
[Fair enough.]
[It's not 'fair enough'—it is what it is.]
As the sound transmission ended, they arrived at the Western Reception Hall, right next to the temple gate.
"Please wait a moment."
Mu Ho politely excused himself and entered the hall. Moments later, he emerged with a middle-aged monk wearing a kindly expression.
"These are the gentlemen, senior brother."
At Mu Ho's words, the Guest Reception Hall Master, Mu Yo, bowed with utmost courtesy.
"Amitabha! I am the lowly monk Mu Yo."
"Sima Yeong. This is my younger brother in arms, Woo Cheol."
Cheol Woo gave a slight nod.
Unlike Mu Ho, who had tensed up upon first seeing Cheol Woo, Mu Yo's expression remained unchanged.
"I heard from my junior brother about you two. You made a generous donation to the reconstruction project. We are truly grateful."
"Not at all. It's an honor to participate in such a noble undertaking."
Mu Yo regarded Sima Geon with a favorable gaze at his humble demeanor.
"Please, come inside."
Mu Yo led the two into the Western Reception Hall and continued.
"This hall is usually where our temple's young disciples eat, sleep, and train. But with so many visitors for this reconstruction, we've had to use it as lodging."
The hall was already packed with guests.
There were easily over a hundred people crammed into the space, making it as cramped and noisy as a bustling marketplace.
As Sima Geon and Cheol Woo halted, Mu Yo gave an embarrassed smile and said,
"Your quarters are a bit further inside."
The place Mu Yo guided them to was the innermost section of the hall. It was a small partitioned-off space with thick cloth walls—better than the open area, but still crude.
"Ha!"
An incredulous sigh escaped Cheol Woo's lips. Sima Geon quickly elbowed him in the side and spoke.
"We were in a bind without lodging since Dengbong County. Thanks to you, that's one less worry."
"We hastily cleared out the disciples' training area, so it's quite inadequate. Considering your generous contribution, you should rightfully be housed in the Guest Reception Hall proper, but as you know, with the Imperial Consort visiting the temple, space is tight. My deepest apologies."
Mu Yo bowed deeply, his face full of genuine regret.
"We're not here expecting special treatment. If anything, stumbling upon this grand reconstruction is a blessing. Please don't trouble yourself, monk."
A glint of surprise flickered deep in Mu Yo's eyes at Sima Geon's words.
'They came without knowing about the Amitabha reconstruction?']
Almost everyone visiting Shaolin now was here for the reconstruction. Naturally, doubt arose.
"It seems you arrived unaware of the reconstruction. If it's not too rude, may I ask what brings you to the temple?"
Mu Yo inquired cautiously.
"No particular reason. We were heading back from business in Jeongju and thought to pay respects to Buddha. Honestly, we've heard so much about the famed Shaolin Temple of the world."
"I see. How do you find it so far? I hope you're not disappointed."
"Not at all. I haven't fully explored yet, but the moment I stepped through the gate, I understood why Shaolin shines so brightly."
"You flatter us."
Mu Yo expressed thanks with a proud face at Sima Geon's repeated praise.
After some more conversation, Mu Yo bid them rest well and turned to leave. Watching him exit the hall, Sima Geon turned to Cheol Woo.
"We need to be more careful."
"Huh?"
"Your energy leaked out a few times subtly."
"Me?"
Cheol Woo looked indignant.
"Every time your presence flared, that monk's eyes sharpened. He probably didn't gauge your full skill, but it'll leave suspicions."
"......"
"He's no pushover. Remember that Embroidered Uniform Guard expert at the gate? He's on that level."
Cheol Woo's expression hardened slightly.
"Really? Didn't seem like it."
"That means he hides his aura masterfully. Anyway, let's stay sharp. This is Shaolin, not some backwater. No guarantee there aren't experts who could sense us. If our strength gets exposed, everything falls apart."
"Sorry. Got careless without realizing. I'll watch it."
Sima Geon softened his tense expression as Cheol Woo readily admitted his mistake.
"Good. That's all I ask. Now let's head out. Sun's still up—can't stay cooped in this stuffy hole. Plenty more to scout."
"Got it. But what about that guy?"
Cheol Woo pointed to a man leaning against the wall in one corner of the hall. He kept dropping his head as if tired, but the two had noticed long ago he was surveilling them.
"Ignore him. Looks like they stuck him on us. No point poking the bear."
Sima Geon nodded toward the direction of the temple gate.
"What's the harm?"
"......"
"Hahaha! Just kidding, kidding."
Cheol Woo brushed off Sima Geon's sharp glare with a laugh and stretched grandly as he stepped out.
"Haa."
A sigh escaped Sima Geon. It stemmed from an ominous premonition that trouble would brew because of Cheol Woo.
"Kuhk!"
Yang So staggered with a strangled cry, staring in disbelief at his lower abdomen.
Blood streamed down the sharp blade protruding from his dantian.
"Y-You damn dog..."
Gritting his teeth, Yang So clutched the sword embedded in his dantian and slowly raised his head.
A man approached, silhouetted against the moonlight, his body covered in large and small wounds—several looking potentially fatal.
His clothes were unrecognizable from the blood, and with every step, dark red blood soaked the ground.
"Kekeke! Think you've won seeing me like this, you moron?"
Yang So's face twisted in despair at the man's mocking laugh.
"S-Shut up."
"Back in the day, I heard that line so often it got tiresome."
The man slowly reached out toward Yang So.
Yang So knew he should dodge, but he lacked even the strength to twitch a finger.
"It's not over till I confirm you're dead. Get careless, and you might end up the corpse."
A bizarre chuckle spilled from the man's lips as he gripped Yang So's throat.
"Hehehe! Tell King Yama the Lightning Strike of the Divine Demon Division sent you."
Lightning Strike watched coldly as Yang So's convulsing body went still, eyes rolled back. Only then did he release his grip and slump weakly to the ground.
"Damn, this is as far as I go."
Collapsing flat on his back, Lightning Strike gazed at the lone moon in the dark night sky. Suddenly, a face overlapped with it.
"Boss..."
With a soft murmur, his eyes slowly closed.
In his fading consciousness, he thought he heard voices, but they vanished into endless darkness with the quiet.
"Master! There's a body here too."
Even deep into the night, lanterns brightly illuminated the area around Shaolin Temple without end.
Outside the gate, imperial troops stood watch. Mindful of Shaolin's dignity, they didn't patrol the grounds, but the White-Clothed Hall—designated as the Imperial Consort's residence—was sealed tight by the Embroidered Uniform Guard.
Shaolin itself mobilized several times more disciples than usual to guard against any mishaps.
Normally, disciples from the Western Reception and Self-Cultivation Halls handled night patrols, but now Nahantang disciples joined them—showing how seriously they took the reconstruction and the Consort's visit.
But for Sima Geon, who had left Cheol Woo at the hall to avoid the Embroidered Uniform Guard's watchful eyes and moved alone, such defenses meant little.
"That must be the Sixth Patriarch Hall."
Sima Geon murmured softly as he quietly passed the hall enshrining the Zen ancestors, to the left of the Heavenly Kings Hall.
"And here's the Guest Reception Hall."
Behind it lay the Guest Reception area, heavily watched due to the external guests.
Passing that, the Sutra Repository came into view behind the Great Hero Hall.
Most of Shaolin was open to pilgrims, but a few places restricted access—like the Sutra Repository.
'Shall I go in?']
Sima Geon hid behind a ginkgo tree wrapping around the repository like a screen and pondered briefly.
The murim's Mount Tai of the North, with the boast "All martial arts under heaven originate from Shaolin." He wondered if it lived up to the hype.
After a moment, Sima Geon lightly leaped forward.
More than curiosity about Shaolin martial arts, his priority was securing the Great Reversion Pill for his sister.
Landing behind the repository where the Abbot's Quarters were visible at a glance, Sima Geon's eyes gleamed calmly.
'Looks like a meeting.']
Over a dozen shadows flickered through the Abbot's window, yet only four or five martial monks guarded the perimeter.
It might seem lax for the Abbot's security, but considering the gathered experts' prowess, the guards were mere formality.
Sima Geon approached the Abbot's Quarters cautiously.
The door-guarding monks were top Nahantang disciples, yet they detected nothing of his movement.
With one leap, Sima Geon reached the eaves on the left side of the roof and began inching forward slowly.
The distance from eaves to roof center was short, but the people below were masters who could sense a mote of dust. Extreme caution took time.
Reaching the center, Sima Geon flattened himself and pressed his ear to the roof.
A faint vibration carried the voices from within.
For the first incense stick's time, discussion centered solely on the reconstruction. The topic shifted slightly when someone entered.
"I'm a bit late."
Sima Geon immediately recognized the Guest Reception Hall Master, Mu Yo.
"It's fine. You've worked hard into the late hour."
Abbot Gong Su smiled kindly.
"Not at all, Master. It's my duty as Guest Reception Hall Master."
"You've done well. So many visitors have left my mind in a whirl."
Heavenly Kings Hall Master Gong Hu patted Mu Yo's shoulder sympathetically.
"Thank you, senior uncle."
Mu Yo bowed with a gentle smile.
"Just a bit more effort despite the hardship. We can't afford mistakes with guests at our temple."
"I've tried my utmost to accommodate them, but honestly, it's not enough. I can't even count those turned away without lodging."
"That's unavoidable. The temple has limits. Mu Yo, it's not your fault—don't take it to heart. Just do your best."
"Yes, Master."
Gong Su's gaze, warm on Mu Yo, shifted to the far end of the meeting room.
"Nahantang Master."
"Yes, senior martial uncle!"
Nahantang Master Mu Ae shot to his feet with a thunderous shout.
"You fool! What's with the fuss like you've committed a crime? How many times have I told you to lower your voice?"
Heavenly Buddha Hall Master Gong Yeong, seated beside him, furrowed his brow.
"S-Sorry, Master."
"Tsk tsk, pathetic."
Gong Yeong clicked his tongue and turned to the smiling Gong Su.
"Abbot senior brother, please forgive him. It's been how long since he took over Nahantang, and he still hasn't adjusted."
Before Gong Su could reply, a playful voice came from the left.
"Amitabha! Like master, like disciple."
Gong Yeong's thick brows shot up as he whipped his head around. But seeing it was Won Il, head of the Ksitigarbha Hall and one of Shaolin's elders, he sheepishly turned away.
Gong Yeong, disciple of Grandmaster Pai among the most hot-tempered and un-monk-like in temperament, dared not show his temper before Won Il—who, at thirty, had mastered thirty-six of Shaolin's seventy-two ultimate arts, then spent three years wandering the murim to elevate Shaolin's prestige.
"What's that look? Wanna charge at me like old times?"
"N-No, senior uncle. How could I dare..."
Gong Yeong bowed, face flushed deep red at Won Il's words.
"Heh heh, time flies. To see that brash kid so tamed."
The nearly ninety-year-old monk's teasing laugh left Gong Yeong flustered, but the Abbot's Quarters filled with hearty laughter.