Raising the Heavenly Demon's Realm (5)
A sect's plaque is an object that symbolizes that sect. Asking someone to destroy it is essentially a request to pick a fight with the sect and tarnish its prestige and honor.
“I know this is a difficult request, but...”
“Is that all you want?”
“Pardon?”
I have no idea what he's talking about. How could something like this possibly be difficult? I am a person who could single-handedly erase Shaolin's existence from the Murim. Breaking a plaque and coming back should be no trouble at all.
“I thought you would ask for something far grander. Your courage is rather small.”
“Eh? Yes? What do you mean it's nothing? That place is Shaolin. Even if it has fallen from its past glory, it is still one of the Five Great Orthodox Sects.”
“And what of it?”
Maryo fidgeted his lips as if at a loss for words, but no sound came out. He clearly hadn't expected this kind of answer. No matter what, he was a fellow who still held pride in the name Shaolin.
But really now. To me, it truly is nothing. What can I do about that?
In the distant, distant past, I had the entire Orthodox faction beneath my feet. The so-called high-level experts of the Orthodox path crumbled before me. Those who puffed out their chests calling themselves the Five Great Sects wept as they watched their homes burn. And the ones from the Murim Alliance had to beg for their very lives to be spared. That was a story from several decades ago.
Having reached a realm that cannot even be compared to those days, why would I fear such a place?
“From the beginning, you brought this up because you thought it wouldn't be particularly difficult for me, didn't you?”
“...Yes. That's right.”
“Then stop taking pride in something that is no longer even Shaolin. It would be far more useful to worry about something else instead of holding onto such thoughts.”
“...What do you mean?”
“Think about it. Even if I go and shatter Shaolin, would its prestige truly fall?”
It's not exactly wrong, is it? It's true that my notoriety is lower now than when I walked the Murim in the past. However, that doesn't mean I'm treated like an ordinary martial artist. Not after everything I've done so far.
“Let's say I destroyed Shaolin. Even then, who would dare criticize Shaolin? The Murim would understand. Outsiders would only feel pity for them.”
Destroying Shaolin's plaque wouldn't change anything. At most, the people inside Shaolin would grumble a bit. That was why I asked again. Is that really enough? Would you be satisfied with merely causing some inconvenience to those staying in Shaolin?
“I'll ask once more. Tell me what you truly desire.”
Anything is fine. I won't take back my words.
Do you wish for Shaolin to disappear? Do you want Shaolin to kneel before you? Do you want to see your words and will become Shaolin itself? Speak of the things you longed for amid all the humiliations you've suffered until now. Then it shall be done.
I stared quietly into Maryo's eyes, waiting for an answer, but he only shook his head.
“My request remains the same.”
“Why?”
I don't understand. He should have realized by now that breaking the plaque would be pointless.
“Because if I ask for anything more, it feels like even Shaolin would become yours.”
Does he think that just as I swallowed Mount Hua, I would do the same to Shaolin? Hmm. It's exactly the answer I expected, so it's not even interesting. I knew what kind of person he was, but since this world is so different from the one I knew, I thought there might be some change. If I had to judge, he's correct. If he had spouted nonsense, I was prepared to swallow him whole.
Maryo's Request
Shatter Shaolin's plaque and return.
Reward: Considerable inner energy, Shaolin's recovery pill
Now that the quest has appeared, there's no reason to stay here any longer.
*
Shaolin is a place with such deep history that it has countless famous landmarks. One of them is the Shaolin Stairs. Each step up is said to cast off one worldly affliction. It is a religiously significant location. Or rather, it used to be.
“Visit Shaolin! Receive a recovery pill just for a consultation!”
“They say Shaolin doesn't even shave their heads anymore these days?”
“Whoa, really? That's amazing!”
“I learned Shaolin's martial arts and became a ranker!”
Standing before the stairs leading to Shaolin, I blinked at the sight of people camped out like street vendors. What... exactly is going on here? Is this really Shaolin? Did I get the location wrong and end up in some strange place?
As I stood there blankly watching the people, Baru tugged insistently at my sleeve.
“Min-ga. Is this place truly Shaolin?”
“...Don't ask me. I'm just as bewildered as you are.”
I'm going to lose my mind. The vendors yelling in front of the stairs have even infiltrated my broadcast.
“If you don't tone it down, there will be no more of my broadcasts.”
I usually let most things slide, but this chaos is too much to bear. After declaring that I would cut their throats if they didn't restrain themselves, the chat finally returned to normal.
Sigh. Even if I asked the viewers for an explanation, I'd probably just get nonsense.
“Seol-ah.”
<Yes!>
“I think you'll understand even if I don't say it.”
<Um... Even if you ask why Shaolin is like this, it's been this way ever since the early days of the game, except for the very beginning?>
“It's always been like this?”
According to Seol-ah's explanation, Shaolin was quiet for about six months after Hwaryong Muin launched. But after that half-year passed and the Orthodox sects began aggressively recruiting players, Shaolin started using these relentless promotional tactics.
<They butted into everything and made a huge fuss, so at first people found them repulsive, but after endless brainrot spam it became a meme.>
“...So in the end, it proved effective, and that's why Shaolin is maintaining this policy?”
<Yes!>
Now I understood why Maryo, who took such pride in Shaolin, had left this place. How could someone who valued Shaolin's traditions possibly stay silent seeing it like this? He must have charged in asking if this was right, and when it proved useless, he left the temple of his own accord.
“To be so consumed by desire that they've lost sight of what they should be pursuing.”
Just what kind of state has the Murim of Hwaryong Muin fallen into?
“Haa. Damn it. Never mind that. Why are those guys so obsessed with promotion?”
It could simply be their determination to grow the sect further. But usually, martial artists make their sect's name known by displaying their own martial prowess. They don't stand in front of the sect gate grabbing visitors and forcing them to come to Shaolin.
Is this another outdated way of thinking on my part? Or if not...
<Every time they make contributions like that, they probably get taught new martial arts or given good recovery pills? And they give even more if you bring people!>
“You're joking, right?”
<No. Why would I lie to you, Heavenly Demon-nim?>
I suppose that's true. Listening to Seol-ah's story, the headache became too much to bear, so I pressed hard on my forehead.
The more I dig, the more it feels like I'm staring into the abyss. If I'd known it would be like this, I wouldn't have asked Maryo if he had a request. I should have just come here alone and flipped the place upside down. I should have destroyed the entire sect while yelling about how bastards like you have the nerve to call yourselves Shaolin. If I'd done that, I wouldn't have to wear this mask and pretend to be some arrogant newcomer from the Orthodox faction.
“Excuse me! You're here to join Shaolin, right?!”
While I was sighing, one of the touts from the crowd approached me and shouted. Seeing his eyes filled with greed, my hand instinctively went to my pipe. If I weren't wearing this mask, I would have already put it in my mouth.
“If I write a recommendation in my name—”
“No! My name works better than his!”
“What are you saying?! You're making the customer uncomfortable! I'll take him—”
“This is a scene straight out of hell.”
Baru let out a hollow laugh as she watched them try to snatch a complete stranger for their own benefit. I completely agreed with her opinion. If there was a hell where hungry ghosts lived, wouldn't it be this place?
Not wanting to see any more of this, I grabbed Baru by the waist, hoisted her onto my shoulder, and leaped into the air.
“Looking down from above makes it even more ridiculous.”
The stairs that were supposed to help one cast off worldly afflictions with every step were now filled with countless greedy hands. If I had quietly climbed the stairs, how many of those hands would I have had to shake off?
Stepping through the air like that, I arrived at the main gate and kicked the door with my foot, smashing it to pieces.
“How very polite of me. One should treat these kinds of people according to their level.”
When I had visited Shaolin before, Baru had scolded me, but now it was different. She nodded at my actions and was even encouraging me. It seemed that even in Baru's eyes, this place had taken on a very deformed structure.
The interior of Shaolin wasn't much different from the outside. The Shaolin I remembered was a place filled with the smell of sweat from people devoted to training. This place was not like that. It was a place that only cared about appearances for others to see. Clean and beautiful, but not a place where martial artists should reside.
Ha. How laughable. Even Mount Hua, which I had crushed, at least pretended to train. Does this place not even bother with that facade? Are they simply telling players to follow the adjustments?
Fine. Let me see exactly what level you people are at.
“Baru. Cover your ears.”
“Hm? Why all of a sudden?”
“I'm going to shout.”
At my words, Baru raised both hands to cover her ears. The way she blocked her perky fox ears sticking up from her head was so cute that I couldn't help but smile.
“Those of you watching my broadcast should do the same. If you want to protect your eardrums, either turn down the volume or cover your ears. Choose one.”
After giving the warning, I turned my gaze forward and took a deep breath.
“I have come to challenge this rotten Shaolin to a spar! If you are not afraid, show yourselves!”
Inner energy infused into one's voice becomes a weapon in itself. My physical realm isn't so low that I could collapse a building with sound alone, but I can at least create vibrations.
Perhaps they heard my shout. From inside the closed buildings, martial artists began crawling out one by one like insects. The mixture of bewilderment and rage on their faces was quite satisfying to see.