Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Shaolin's Sword (3)
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The door opened, and Gong Hu entered, his face heavy with exhaustion.
"Any word?"
Won Jin, who had been examining Mu In, turned his head and asked.
"I sent Mu Yeon, so he'll come running soon."
"There must be an uproar. But is everyone alright?"
"The four are more or less okay, but the kids who clashed with that monster..."
Gong Hu trailed off, shaking his head.
The Four Heavenly Kings, subdued by Sima Geon, had been overwhelmed so swiftly it barely qualified as a fight, leaving them with no serious injuries. But the Eight Vajras, who had battled fiercely with Cheol Woo, were all gravely wounded without exception. Mu Hae in particular had sustained injuries so severe his life hung in the balance—he would need full bed rest for at least three or four months.
"Gong Cho's in for some hardship."
"Yeah. He's probably grumbling his way here even now. By the way, how's the kid?"
Gong Hu gazed worriedly at Mu In, still lying unconscious.
"Not light injuries, but no threat to his life."
"That's some relief, at least."
"Now we finally see just how deficient he is. Not just him—all the kids are the same."
"The damage is too great to turn this disaster into fortune. Especially losing the Shaolin Great Reversion Pill—I still can't believe it."
"It wasn't taken. It was a trade."
"It was taken."
Gong Hu shook his head firmly.
"Think what you will."
"Was there really no other way?"
Won Jin glanced at Gong Hu and muttered.
"If it had been just him, it might've been possible. He could've held out until reinforcements from headquarters arrived. But he wasn't alone, was he? And the kids he had to fight alongside were already all down."
Gong Hu, injured from his clash with Sima Geon, bit his lip hard.
"No. The premise itself is meaningless from the start."
"Pardon?"
"Even if he'd come alone, it would've been hard to handle him. Even if everyone was in top condition and attacked together, victory would've been a stretch."
Won Jin silently reached out and stroked Mu In's face.
"Still. If the kids hadn't been there... I don't think he would've backed down just like that. He'd have fought regardless of the pill."
Gong Hu's furrowed brow twitched at the words laced with regret.
"Surprised?"
"A little."
A faint smile touched Won Jin's lips.
"Setting aside his role as a disciple of Buddha, he's a martial artist too. It's only natural he'd want to measure himself against a master like that. It's just that his concern for Shaolin's future outweighed his competitive spirit. He couldn't sacrifice Shaolin's pillars and stain the temple with blood just to sate an old man's pride."
Gong Hu, on the verge of retorting, shut his mouth with a heavy expression.
From the moment Sima Geon had demanded the pill, a fundamental doubt had lingered: could Won Jin, Shaolin's mightiest, stand against him? And now, that very man had voiced the answer himself.
Gong Hu fell silent. As if understanding his feelings, Won Jin said nothing more, simply tending to Mu In.
After a long silence, Gong Hu sensed approaching footsteps from afar and spoke up again.
"But why that condition of all things?"
"What?"
"You asked him to become Shaolin's sword."
As Gong Hu subtly raised his voice, Won Jin chuckled softly.
"Bruised pride?"
"It's not about pride. I simply can't imagine headquarters needing to borrow outside power. It's utterly unthinkable."
"Tsk tsk. Why take it so seriously? Owing a debt to a master of his caliber is a gain in itself. If we never need his help, perfect. Even if we do, it's hardly a loss."
"That'll never happen."
Gong Hu shook his head firmly and shot to his feet, only to stagger as pain shot through his broken leg. He quickly straightened and strode out the door.
'If only... but I worry it won't go as hoped.'
Won Jin turned his gaze beyond the door, to the sky.
"Amitabha! The Blood Wolf Star's aura grows fiercer by the day. Whatever shall we do?"
His expression darkened at the star glowing an unnatural red—the same one that had reemerged into the world after a hundred fifty years.
"Boss, shall we rest now? Dawn's already breaking."
Cheol Woo wiped the sweat streaming down his forehead.
It had been roughly two hours since they'd secured the pill and left Dalma Temple. Normally, Cheol Woo wouldn't have been winded by a mere change in his breathing, but the back-to-back fights—not to mention taking a hit from Won Jin—had left him thoroughly drained.
"Yeah. Let's rest."
Sima Geon settled comfortably on the grass and tossed his waterskin to Cheol Woo.
"Drink."
His throat parched already, Cheol Woo didn't hesitate and drained the skin in one go.
"You worked hard."
Sima Geon said with an apologetic look.
He knew Cheol Woo wasn't at full strength, yet they'd pushed at top speed. There was only a slim chance of pursuit, but he couldn't rule it out entirely.
"This? Hardly."
Cheol Woo snorted as he shook out the waterskin, squeezing every last drop into his mouth.
"How's the body? The wounds?"
"Fine. Still chafes that the old monk landed one on me."
Just thinking about it irritated him; Cheol Woo grimaced as he scratched at his belly.
"At least it wasn't his full power. Small mercy."
"Not full power?"
Cheol Woo's face said it all: disbelief.
"Definitely. If the old master had gone all out, you wouldn't be standing here unscathed. He held back."
"No way..."
Cheol Woo started to deny it vehemently but suddenly clamped his mouth shut. He pondered for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"You're right. I was a bit off guard, but that move was unreal. And the power of that heavy hand technique—it pierced my Ink Gang Asura Qi clean through, a cut above even Poison Claw Ghost Eyes."
"Two cuts above, I'd say."
"Fair enough. But boss, if we'd fought for real, what would've been the outcome?"
Unlike Cheol Woo, who eyed him cautiously, Sima Geon answered without hesitation.
"I'd have lost. It wouldn't have ended quickly, though."
"You're sure?"
"Ask yourself. You already know."
Cheol Woo sprang up and irritably kicked a nearby stone.
"Damn it! Yeah. I've known since that gut punch—the North Heaven Sword Demon's mug flashed in my head."
"Don't take it too hard. The old master was the strongest we met at Shaolin."
"Not much comfort. One guy stronger than me is plenty—you."
Still grumbling, Cheol Woo suddenly asked as if struck by a thought.
"That young monk punk, though. Something off about him, right?"
"Who?"
"The one who spewed that amateur killing intent and got wrecked. The old monk yapped about Shaolin's sword or whatever."
"And?"
"Fits the bill for one of Shaolin's prized pupils—sharper, more powerful strikes than the rest. But no way should've pierced my protective aura and left these marks."
Cheol Woo pointed to the wounds visible through the tears in his clothes. They weren't deep, but for him—who rarely took so much as a scratch from top masters—it was a shock.
"No specialized weapon or hidden tool to nullify qi, but it pierced anyway. Honestly, threw me off. Made me wonder if Shaolin arts pack some secret power we don't know about."
"Heavenly Slaughter Star."
"Heavenly... what?"
Cheol Woo's eyes went wide.
"Overheard the old man. That kid Mu In was born under the Heavenly Slaughter Star."
"The one the Blood Emperor was born under?"
"Been a while since I heard that name. You still remember."
"How could I forget? Black Dragon Valley's masters hyped it up as the ultimate killer star—my ears rang for days. That punk really?"
"Seems like it."
"Heavenly Slaughter Star at Shaolin?"
"Yeah."
"So that's how he pierced it? They say those born under heaven's essence aren't ordinary, and damn if it ain't true. That killing intent pouring off him shook my Ink Gang Asura Qi—nothing average about it. The legend's got legs."
"Could be a special technique too. Dalma Temple wasn't your standard Shaolin setup."
Cheol Woo tilted his head briefly before nodding.
"Makes sense. Wounding a body like diamond-hard? Definitely some mysterious power at play. Shame. Another round, and I'd know for sure. Shaolin and the Heavenly Slaughter Star—what were they thinking? Weirdest combo, boss."
Cheol Woo wore an utterly baffled expression.
"Better than him stirring trouble elsewhere. Anyway, not our concern. What matters is we got this."
Sima Geon patted his chest. The feel of the wooden box holding the pill deep in his bosom brought a natural smile to his face.
"And threw in a slave contract to boot."
Cheol Woo teased.
"Just agreed to help if needed. Think mighty Shaolin would swallow their pride and ask? If they do, we'll help gladly. Our fault his sword's gathering rust, like the old master said. For curing my little sister's illness, those terms are a steal—ten times over, a hundred."
"True enough."
With Sima Jin's illness brought up, even Cheol Woo couldn't keep nitpicking.
"Rested plenty. Time to move before the sun's up."
"Smart. This area's a sweatbox come morning. Dawn air's cool and refreshing, though..."
Cheol Woo chuckled, then suddenly scrunched his nose. A foul stench, far from refreshing, crept into his nostrils.
"Boss, smells like blood."
Cheol Woo turned toward the direction the wind carried it from.
"Yeah. Why here of all places."
Sima Geon briefly thought of Shaolin but shook it off. Pursuit might come, but no battle had happened— no reason for the smell to arrive first.
Sima Geon and Cheol Woo followed the scent of blood.
How far had they gone? Cheol Woo halted, his face uncharacteristically grave.
"What the hell? What happened here?!"
A gruesome scene unfolded before them.
Hundreds—no less—of people, or rather soldiers, lay sprawled as cold corpses.
"Not war."
Inspecting nearby bodies, Cheol Woo spotted a common thread.
"Not a fight. One-sided massacre."
An exclamation escaped Cheol Woo.
"Every wound's fatal. Clean work too—no hesitation, sliced right. Regular soldiers couldn't pull this off."
Spotting something else nearby, Cheol Woo strode over and flipped a prone corpse with his foot.
Cheol Woo's face hardened slightly.
Not from the diagonal gash splitting chest to gut, spilling entrails.
What shocked Cheol Woo was the corpse's garb—the uniform symbolizing the Embroidered Uniform Guard.
"Boss. Embroidered Uniform Guard."
"I see it. Not just one or two."
Sima Geon's expression grew as grave as Cheol Woo's.
Hundreds of soldiers slaughtered was no small matter, but dozens of the emperor's elite personal guards losing their lives? That was on another level entirely. And right now, both men knew exactly why Embroidered Uniform Guards were operating near Shaolin.
"Looks like Lady Ilhwangsuk got hit."
Sima Geon nodded at Cheol Woo's question.
"Seems that way. Tsk tsk. Palace has problems piling up, and now this mess."
"Powerless grunts die pointlessly. Ha! What a shitshow."
Cheol Woo sneered at the Embroidered Uniform Guards who had skewered each other's hearts in mutual destruction—a symbolic display of internal strife.
"What now?"
Cheol Woo asked, his face nonchalant; he knew the answer already.
Contrary to expectation, Sima Geon didn't reply right away. His hesitation puzzled Cheol Woo.
"Gonna step in? Palace drama's not my thing."
"Don't want to? Then don't. No point wasting time on something unrelated to us."
Sima Geon turned away without a second thought.
The Azure Orchid Princess—who, like Sima Jin, had barely survived multiple brushes with death from a similar affliction—tugged faintly at his mind, but that was it. He had no desire to meddle in imperial affairs for a woman he'd never met.
"Shaolin's position gets awkward, though. Dropping dead right after a temple visit..."
Before Cheol Woo could finish, Sima Geon abruptly stopped.
Sima Geon's sharp eyes fixed on the pile of Embroidered Uniform Guard corpses.
It wasn't just Guards. Bodies of young Shaolin warrior monks littered the area too. Every one had their heart ripped out; the Shaolin monks in particular looked like withered, twisted dead trees in their horrific state. Even in death, their faces bore frozen expressions of extreme terror and agony.
"Huh? Energy Absorption Art? Right, boss? Or something similar."
Cheol Woo asked, stunned. Sima Geon nodded and began inspecting the corpses, his demeanor ominous.
"Soldiers too. Looks like they dragged warrior monks into it. The trashy kind."
Cheol Woo, examining the monks beside him, froze mid-motion.
"Of all the morons..."
His thick lips twisted savagely upon confirming Mu Ho's death—the monk he'd gotten somewhat acquainted with during their stay at Seorae Hall.
"Boss, if we hadn't seen it, ignorance is bliss. But right in front of us? Can't just pretend."
As Sima Geon stayed silent, Cheol Woo spat out a single line.
"Isn't that what being the sword means?"