Chapter 305
The Thousand-Hand Tathagata Palm was the supreme palm technique of Shaolin.
Moreover, its initial forms were notoriously complex, requiring flawless control of internal energy—wasn't this a technique that young disciples couldn't hope to master even if they tried?
Yet this youth manipulated the number of palm shadows as freely as if he had practiced the Thousand-Hand Tathagata Palm for decades, pouring out and retracting his internal energy without the slightest hesitation.
'He's easy to fool.'
A faint smile bloomed on Bu Eun-seol's lips as he glanced sidelong at Jongri Sa-hyeon, whose jaw had nearly dropped open in shock.
Truthfully, the Thousand-Hand Tathagata Palm he was displaying wasn't the real thing.
Bu Eun-seol had faced the technique from both Gwang-yeon, Shaolin's Greatest Prodigy, and Buddha Venerable Hong-hyeon.
Moreover, thanks to absorbing the essence of orthodox martial arts from the Martial Emperor's Secret Repository, he could perfectly mimic the principles and flow of orthodox techniques.
To anyone who wasn't a Shaolin disciple, his imitation was indistinguishable from the genuine article—an exact replica of how the Buddha Venerable and Gwang-yeon executed the Thousand-Hand Tathagata Palm.
'A flawless impersonation of a Shaolin disciple!'
From the moment he decided to meet the Needle King, Bu Eun-seol had resolved to pose as a secular disciple of Shaolin.
Specifically, as Baek Mu-seong—the Golden Upright Divine Dragon, a late-life disciple of Buddha Venerable Hong-hyeon, one of the Three Venerables. A prodigy blessed by the heavens, shrouded in mystery like a divine dragon.
As a disciple of the Three Venerables, there was no need for Bu Eun-seol to deliberately suppress his martial prowess. His overwhelming internal energy would be perfectly explicable.
'As the Golden Upright Divine Dragon, he'll have to listen.'
Forcing the Needle King to speak was out of the question.
But if he were Baek Mu-seong, the Golden Upright Divine Dragon—disciple of the Buddha Venerable—then the Needle King would surely tell him the story, even if reluctant.
"Ah!"
At that moment, the three disciples faltered in shock as their Golden Stream Origin technique shattered all at once.
Seizing no advantage from their lapse, Bu Eun-seol unleashed another relentless barrage of the Thousand-Hand Tathagata Palm.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Amid explosive bursts of force, the three disciples stumbled back, unleashing golden needles.
They barely managed to deploy All Laws Return to One, the retrieval form of the Golden Stream Origin, to block the assault.
Yet, unable to withstand the sheer weight of Bu Eun-seol's internal energy, they were forced into retreat.
"Switch to the opening form of Purple Clear Bamboo Hat Net," Jongri Sa-hyeon commanded.
The disciples drew golden needles with both hands—this time, over eighty in total.
Recognizing Bu Eun-seol's formidable strength, they prepared to unleash a secret art specialized for offense.
Flash!
With a golden shimmer, over two hundred and forty needles vanished simultaneously.
Watching the fading afterimages, Bu Eun-seol hesitated.
'This is...'
The two hundred and forty needles unleashed by the Needle King's disciples were equivalent to executing two hundred and forty distinct opening forms at once.
Against something of this caliber, only his Formless Heavenly Flow, Willful True Binding, or Thirteenfold Qi Induction would suffice to block it.
'I have to evade.'
Snap! Snap! Snap!
He swiftly activated Ultimate Speed Shadowless, but several needles still embedded themselves in his elbows and legs.
'Hmm.'
Observing this, Jongri Sa-hyeon exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.
No matter how skilled this Shaolin disciple might be, if word spread that three of the Needle King's disciples had lost after attacking him together—what greater humiliation could there be?
Whoosh!
But then, something strange happened.
A golden energy current began surging from Bu Eun-seol's body...
Ping! Ping!
The needles lodged in his flesh were forcibly expelled, sent flying backward.
"That is...!"
Jongri Sa-hyeon's eyes widened.
"The Prajna Great Power?"
His lips parted in disbelief.
If the Tendon Transformation Sutra was the orthodox faction's supreme internal art, then the Prajna Great Power was Shaolin's pinnacle secret technique.
A supreme martial art even veteran monks at the peak of their power struggled to master—how could a mere youth in his twenties wield it?
'This...'
Bu Eun-seol was equally stunned.
The needles had paralyzed his body.
He had mustered every ounce of his energy to break free—so why had this ability manifested?
'Is it because of that incident?'
He recalled the Prajna Great Power that Master Moon, the leader of Wicked Incense, had unleashed in his final moments.
At the time, the energy had been absorbed into Bu Eun-seol's meridians, causing only minor conflict.
He had dismissed it as insignificant—but had that power remained latent within him all along?
"We won!"
Just then, Jongri Sa-yu, who had been watching from beside Jongri Sa-hyeon, let out a cheer.
If he could still move after being struck by the needles, there was no need to continue the duel.
"Mmm."
Jongri Sa-hyeon nodded slowly.
'No room for doubt remains.'
The Prajna Great Power was an orthodox Shaolin technique that required at least twenty years of rigorous training to master.
Unless Bu Eun-seol had begun martial training as an infant, there was no way he could have manifested it.
Thus, Jongri Sa-hyeon concluded that Bu Eun-seol was indeed a secular disciple of Shaolin—one who had received the Prajna Great Power through direct transmission from a master of extraordinary skill.
"This old man concedes."
A faint smile touched Jongri Sa-hyeon's lips.
At that, Jongri Sa-yu ran over, grinning.
"Young Hero Baek! That was incredible! How were you able to move after being struck in your pressure points?"
But as those words registered, a thought flickered through Jongri Sa-hyeon's mind.
'Wait. Baek Mu-seong... Baek Mu-seong?'
In the orthodox martial world, where seniority was paramount, there existed rising talents whose martial prowess far outstripped their fame—precisely because they held unusually high seniority despite their young age.
If such figures roamed the martial world freely, even sect elders would be forced to bow before them—an absurd scenario no one wished to entertain.
And then, a name surfaced from the depths of Jongri Sa-hyeon's memory.
'The Golden Upright Divine Dragon—disciple of the Buddha Venerable?'
Could this striking young man truly be the secular disciple of Buddha Venerable Hong-hyeon—the Living Buddha?
The Golden Upright Divine Dragon, Baek Mu-seong—a figure who had supposedly defeated even veteran masters of the Demonic Path, though his face remained unknown?
"Then you... you are Great Master Hong-hyeon's esteemed disciple?"
Jongri Sa-hyeon's demeanor had shifted entirely.
It wasn't due to the young man's high status.
In his childhood, a Shaolin monk had once saved his life using internal energy. That benefactor was none other than the Buddhist Venerable, Hong-hyeon himself.
Maintaining his facade, Bu Eun-seol clasped his hands together.
"My apologies. As I mentioned earlier, due to my sect's orders..."
After all, the Golden Upright Divine Dragon had rarely revealed himself in the martial world.
Moreover, since the Needle King himself had also withdrawn from active involvement, the chances of their paths crossing were astronomically low.
Thus, Bu Eun-seol felt no hesitation in impersonating Baek Mu-seong.
"I see. I understand."
Jongri Sa-hyeon chuckled warmly and gestured to his disciples.
"Escort Young Hero Baek to the Heavenly Gate Pavilion."
The Heavenly Gate Pavilion.
Inside, a banquet table groaned under the weight of lavish dishes—enough to make the table legs bend.
Among them was a century-aged Plum Blossom Wine, a treasure even Jongri Sa-hyeon had been reluctant to open.
However, the spread consisted solely of fresh fruits and vegetarian delicacies.
Knowing that even secular disciples of Shaolin abstained from meat, the Needle King had prepared accordingly.
"How has Great Master Hong-hyeon been lately? Is he well?"
At Jongri Sa-hyeon's inquiry, Bu Eun-seol offered a knowing smile.
"The last time I saw him was at the Golden Phoenix Tower within the Martial Alliance. He remains vigorous and in good health."
This, too, was no lie.
Bu Eun-seol had met the Buddhist Venerable at the Golden Phoenix Tower and witnessed his vitality firsthand.
He simply omitted the fact that he was the Heir of the Demon Hall. Every word he spoke was truth.
"Ah, of course. I'd forgotten that the Great Master presided over this year's Buddhist ceremony at the Golden Phoenix Tower."
As if all doubts had melted away, Jongri Sa-hyeon's face brightened.
"Elder. May we now hear the story...?"
"Ah, yes."
Only then did Jongri Sa-hyeon laugh and begin.
"At that time, Hwangju Prefecture was ravaged by a plague. When I could no longer stand by, I went there—and that's when I happened to see the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade."
Jongri Sa-hyeon wiped the sweat from his brow after a full day of treating patients in the plague tents.
To cure consumption sickness, one had to replenish the depleted qi while simultaneously eradicating the parasitic Consumption Worms in a single stroke.
He had brought ample Taiyin Water Moon Pills and Clear Spirit Powder, yet the quantities were woefully insufficient.
"Even after bringing so much, it's still not enough."
Wiping his forehead, he nodded toward the distant mountains.
"I'll have to make do with bamboo and elm to brew a Poria and Sparganium Decoction."
Stepping out of the tent, he immediately headed for the nearby hills.
A lifetime of herb-gathering had honed his instincts—just a glance at the terrain told him what grew where.
As he ascended the mountain path, he suddenly let out a soft exclamation.
"Hoh! Soil like this might even yield Blood Ginseng Fruit."
He hadn't come with high expectations, yet the mountain was richer in medicinal herbs than he'd anticipated.
Not only that, the terrain seemed perfect for Blood Ginseng Fruit—a rarity that granted longevity to ordinary folk and explosively enhanced a martial artist's internal energy.
Crunch. Crunch.
Venturing deeper into the untouched forest, his gaze soon fell upon a wide clearing halfway up the mountain.
There, beside a small cave, a martial artist leaned against the rock face, breathing heavily.
Drenched in blood, the man cradled a great saber that pulsed with ominous darkness.
"My word."
Jongri Sa-hyeon's eyes widened.
At the martial artist's feet lay the roots of what appeared to be a Blood Ginseng Fruit.
'A shame. He must have already eaten it all.'
As he studied the roots, the martial artist suddenly locked eyes with him.
In that instant, Jongri Sa-hyeon shuddered. He instantly recognized the man as a master of terrifying prowess.
"Esteemed one—"
His polite greeting died as his eyes bulged.
Only now did he notice—the martial artist's right hand had only two fingers remaining.
"The Seven Fingers Demonic Blade...!"
Jongri Sa-hyeon's voice trembled faintly.
The blood-soaked figure before him was none other than Bu Jan-yang—the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade, Murim's Greatest Killing Star, a butcher known as the Cruel Killing Ghost.
"Wearing the robes of a wandering physician, yet your internal energy has reached the Astonishing Realm..."
The martial artist—Bu Jan-yang—curled his lips into a faint smile.
"You must be the legitimate heir of the Jongri family, famed for acupuncture skills bordering on divinity."
Jongri Sa-hyeon's gaze sharpened.
Bu Jan-yang's wounds appeared grievous.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't dare provoke such a man—but now, he might just be able to sever that infamous head in one stroke.
"Planning to strike?"
Noticing the shift, Bu Jan-yang shook his head.
"Eager to make a name for yourself in the martial world, I see."
"Hardly."
Jongri Sa-hyeon's voice turned icy.
"But eliminating a Great Killing Star like you would save countless innocent lives destined to fall by your hand. How could I let this opportunity pass?"
"Innocent lives... I see."
Still leaning against the rock, Bu Jan-yang replied indifferently.
"Then strike."
Instead of answering, Jongri Sa-hyeon drew needles from his sleeve.
"All of this is the karmic retribution for your evil deeds. Do not resent me."
In the next breath, he unleashed the Golden Stream Origin technique directly at Bu Jan-yang.
Whirr—!
A hundred golden needles froze midair, forming a perfect circle.
Swish!
Then, at varying angles and speeds, they shot toward Bu Jan-yang's vital acupoints.
'Has he given up?'
Bu Jan-yang remained seated, unmoving. Jongri Sa-hyeon's brow twitched.
Did he truly intend to block the Golden Stream Origin—a technique even standing opponents struggled to deflect—while sitting down?
No matter how exceptional his saber techniques might be, this was unavoidable.
Yet something utterly unexpected occurred.
Clang!
Bu Jan-yang drew his blade with lightning speed—and was calmly dismantling the Golden Stream Origin technique?
Clink-clink-clink!
With each flash of black lightning streaking through the air, the golden needles melted away as if dissolving into nothingness.
"Impossible!"
Jongri Sa-hyeon let out a Great Roar and sent the hovering golden needles spinning in a circle, unleashing another barrage of varied strikes—
Swoosh!
A sound like water splitting, and every single needle in the air vanished.
At the same time, the cold edge of a black saber rested against Jongri Sa-hyeon's throat.
Bu Jan-yang had shattered the Golden Stream Origin in an instant and closed the distance like lightning, pressing the Great Blade to his neck.
"How?"
Jongri Sa-hyeon, staring down at the blade, was stunned beyond belief.
How had Bu Jan-yang, still seated, destroyed the Golden Stream Origin?
How had he placed his blade at his throat without Jongri Sa-hyeon even sensing it?
'Has the martial prowess of the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade reached such heights?'
Jongri Sa-hyeon's fingertips trembled.
He had remained undefeated all this time with the Golden Stream Origin, firing a hundred golden needles in countless variations of stances—
Yet he hadn't even lasted ten moves against the Seven Fingers Demonic Blade Bu Jan-yang...
"..."
Slowly, Jongri Sa-hyeon closed his eyes.
Even with eyes open, he hadn't been able to perceive the gap in their martial skill.
Even as a physician, he hadn't been able to properly assess Bu Jan-yang's condition.
His eyes were utterly useless.
But something was strange.
Even after a long moment, the Great Blade at his throat remained frozen in place, unmoving.
"What are you doing?"
When Bu Jan-yang didn't so much as twitch, Jongri Sa-hyeon reopened his eyes and spoke irritably.
"Just kill me already."
"They say the Needle King, who wields golden needles as weapons, roams the Martial World, treating the sick free of charge."
"What does that have to do with you?"
"If I kill a man like you, I'll surely incur Heaven's Punishment."
Click.
In an instant, Bu Jan-yang sheathed his blade and turned away.
"Leave."
Jongri Sa-hyeon's expression twisted in bewilderment.
The Seven Fingers Demonic Blade, known as the Demon Path's Greatest Killer, was said to be a bloodthirsty slaughterer, mad with carnage.
But in reality, not only was his martial skill transcendent beyond words, his eyes were filled with nothing but emptiness.
"After killing so many people, now you're afraid of divine retribution?"
"Who knows?"
Bu Jan-yang leaned back against the wall, his eyes filled with desolation.
"Those who died deserved to die. Those who lived had reason enough to live."
An incomprehensible answer.
But the way Bu Jan-yang stared into the void made it seem as though he had already transcended all worldly affairs.
Only now did Jongri Sa-hyeon realize that Bu Jan-yang—infamous as a ruthless Killing Star—
Actually carried deep, untold sorrows in his heart.
"Go. Quickly."
Bu Jan-yang wiped the blood from his lips.
"If you stay with me, even your fate might be chosen by the Grim Reaper."
"I don't believe in fate."
Then Jongri Sa-hyeon pulled out a slender golden needle, as long as a finger, from his sleeve and strode toward Bu Jan-yang.
"When injured, one might think any Spirit Medicine would help—but that's not always the case."
Without hesitation, he placed the needle on Bu Jan-yang's shoulder.
"The Blood Ginseng Fruit you consumed enhances Internal Energy, but its effects are too potent. For someone who's lost as much blood as you, it does more harm than good."
As soon as the needle was placed, the blood flowing from Bu Jan-yang's arms and legs stopped instantly.
But the blood from his back continued unabated.
"Take off your outer robe and turn around."
Seeing Jongri Sa-hyeon's grave expression, Bu Jan-yang gave a weary smile.
"If anyone sees this, you'll be branded a traitor to the Righteous Path."
"What does Orthodox and Unorthodox have to do with a physician treating a patient? Stop talking nonsense and turn around."
After a brief hesitation, Bu Jan-yang turned.
His back was a tattered mess, riddled with sinister hidden weapons.
"Poison Darts from the Mad Blood Poison Sect."
Embedded in his flesh were barbed projectiles—if forcibly removed, they would tear out chunks of flesh.
A genuine hidden weapon of the Mad Blood Poison Sect, one of the most vicious factions in Murim.
Click-click.
But as Jongri Sa-hyeon lightly twisted the golden needle, the barbed weapons slid out effortlessly, and blood gushed forth.
After swiftly sealing the Blood Circuits to stop the bleeding and applying Golden Wound Salve, Jongri Sa-hyeon frowned.
The scars on Bu Jan-yang's back weren't just from Poison Darts—
They bore traces of the Demonic Path Ten Gates'sUltimate Arts—
The White Horse Whip Art and the Evil Spirit Spear.
"Now even the Demonic Path is tearing itself apart?"
At Jongri Sa-hyeon's words, a deep shadow fell over Bu Jan-yang's eyes.
But he said nothing.
Swish-swish.
After wrapping Bu Jan-yang's back in clean bandages, Jongri Sa-hyeon dusted off his hands.
His medical skill was such that even a withered branch would sprout new leaves under his touch.
What would take other physicians half a day of frantic effort, Jongri Sa-hyeon had treated flawlessly in just a quarter of an hour.
"Now there's no debt between us."
Bu Jan-yang, slipping back into his robes, gave a bitter smile.
"There never was. There was no debt to begin with."
Feeling lighter, Bu Jan-yang turned to leave—then paused and spoke over his shoulder.
"Forget everything you saw today. For your own sake."
Jongri Sa-hyeon could sense it—
Those words were truly for his benefit.
Bu Jan-yang, known as the most bloodthirsty madman of the Demonic Path, the Killing Star—
In truth, he was not the vicious monster rumors made him out to be.
"That would be for the best."
Jongri Sa-hyeon raised the corner of his mouth as he spoke.
"I have no desire to ever be associated again with a Killing Star like you."
Despite the cold words, their gazes were filled with goodwill.
Between a Master of the Righteous Path and a Master of the Demonic Path—whose roads could not have been more different—a faint friendship had begun to bloom.