Chapter 134
Chapter 134
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: Demonic Cult
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Dang Mujin stood lost in thought in front of the Three-Eyed Monk's house.
'...Life.'
He had nearly died at the Three-Eyed Monk's hands, and countless Qingcheng Sect warriors had fallen to him. Even Namgung Myeong had lost an arm.
Yet here he was now, seeking the Three-Eyed Monk's help. Because he was the only one Dang Mujin could trust.
When he thought about it, the differences in their connections weren't that great.
His ties to Namgung Myeong and Chu Sam had begun as enmities, and his first meeting with Dan Seol-yeong had involved a barrage of insults. Hong Geolgae was the only one whose first impression had been unproblematic.
'No, was it really?'
No one knew how connections or life would unfold. Nor could anyone predict how they might end.
As Dang Mujin's thoughts dragged on, the Three-Eyed Monk's voice came from inside.
"You're here already—why hesitate? Come in."
Dang Mujin entered without refusing. The interior of the house felt a bit unfamiliar.
He could accept the Manichaean altars and paintings typical of the Demonic Cult scattered about. But there were two Buddhist scrolls that unmistakably appeared to be in Buddhist style.
'Didn't he hate Shaolin Temple?'
As Dang Mujin stared blankly at the scrolls, the Three-Eyed Monk, who had been sitting cross-legged, asked.
"What's wrong?"
"I didn't expect to see Buddhist paintings."
"I picked them up while wandering Central Plains, on a whim."
"I heard you turned your back on Shaolin Temple."
"Turning your back on something isn't easy. Especially after decades immersed in it, whether you loved or hated it. Back then, just hearing the word 'Buddha' made me furious, but time passed, and those feelings faded. Now, looking at those scrolls actually calms my mind."
"I see."
"Anyway, what brings you here?"
The Three-Eyed Monk uncrossed his legs, and Dang Mujin approached him.
Dang Mujin explained what had happened earlier. The broad-hatted man he had encountered before. The Blood Poison Brew supposedly made by Ma Ui. The scene of him feeding the messenger bird. The strange scroll that had emerged from the broad-hatted man's bosom.
Dang Mujin subtly emphasized how he had subdued a peak expert single-handedly, but the Three-Eyed Monk showed no particular interest in that point.
When he heard Dang Mujin's conclusion that the Great Dharma Protector was suspicious, the Three-Eyed Monk reacted tepidly.
"The evidence against the Great Dharma Protector is too flimsy. Just because he heard a warning not to overdo it? He'd be hurt if he heard that."
It wasn't wrong. Dang Mujin looked embarrassed, and the Three-Eyed Monk advised him.
"If you start assigning meaning to every word and doubting others' true intentions, it can lead to uncontrollable consequences. Be careful."
"But the broad-hatted man reappeared with the lost Blood Poison Brew."
"There might have been more than one. And if you're going to suspect someone for that reason, you should start with the Great Dharma Protector's subordinate who saved you, not him. Besides, I've known the Great Dharma Protector for decades. He's not the type to scheme something insidious from the shadows."
What seemed certain from one perspective often revealed weaknesses from another's. Seeing Dang Mujin seemed convinced by his response, the Three-Eyed Monk continued.
"Moreover, if the Great Dharma Protector were involved, he wouldn't send one of the Cult Leader's subordinates into the Cult Leader's Quarters—he'd send one of his own direct subordinates. Right?"
"The Cult Leader's subordinate?"
"Yes. The one who entered the Cult Leader's Quarters with the Blood Poison Brew in its mouth. I don't remember the name well, but his surname was Wang. That one was under the Cult Leader."
Dang Mujin scratched his head. So he had infiltrated the Cult Leader's Quarters on the Cult Leader's orders?
No, if that were true, it wouldn't even qualify as infiltration.
Then why had the Cult Leader kept the messenger bird in the Cult Leader's Quarters? Nothing came to mind.
The Three-Eyed Monk asked.
"Anyway, show me the scroll you brought."
"Yes."
Dang Mujin unrolled the scroll for the Three-Eyed Monk, who examined its contents closely.
Unlike Dang Mujin, the Three-Eyed Monk seemed to understand it at least somewhat.
"Can you read it?"
"A little."
"What kind of script is it?"
"One of the scripts from the Western Regions. From a country called Parthia."
"What's it say?"
"I don't know exactly. I can only make out a few words. But there are a lot of terms related to the human body and movements, so it might be a martial arts manual."
A martial arts manual from the Western Regions. Dang Mujin's ears perked up.
Like most people, Dang Mujin was very interested in the Western Regions, even if he knew almost nothing about them. Especially a Western martial art.
"Do Westerners practice martial arts too?"
"Yes. I've heard legends of a few techniques that originated from the Pasha region in the Western Regions. But there are too many exaggerated tales. Awakening all your inner potential, freely changing the direction of force—every one sounds absurd."
It might seem negative, but positively, couldn't that scroll contain some supreme technique?
As greed flickered in Dang Mujin's eyes, the Three-Eyed Monk chuckled.
"Don't expect too much from this scroll. It's too short to be a full martial arts manual. Even if it contains martial arts, it's probably just a fragment. If you try to learn from it carelessly, you'll fall into qi deviation and become a cripple."
"But isn't the key that it was written down in the Cult Leader's Quarters to smuggle it out? Doesn't that mean the full manual is in the Cult Leader's Quarters?"
Only then did the Three-Eyed Monk seem to grasp the situation fully, his expression losing its amusement.
"...That could be. But the Cult Leader has no interest in martial arts."
"Maybe someone else created an opening to steal the manual from the Cult Leader's Quarters? I don't know why one of the Cult Leader's subordinates would join in."
The Three-Eyed Monk closed his eyes. That explanation fit the pieces together.
But there was no way to know who had devised such a plan. Not because no one came to mind, but because too many did.
The first suspects were Gwang Yeom Ra or the Ghost King, the super-peak experts of the Warrior Faction.
If not limiting to the Warrior Faction, the Great Dharma Protector was possible, as Dang Mujin had said. The Left and Right Dharma Protectors could be suspected too.
If considering down to peak level, the list grew much longer. The most suspicious among them was the Wang family member who had died by Dang Mujin's hand. Plenty of others coveted unknown martial arts. Most who joined the Demonic Cult practiced martial arts, after all.
After pondering deeply, the Three-Eyed Monk looked up.
"...It could be. Anyway, I need to look into it more. Should I keep this scroll, or do you want to take it back?"
The Three-Eyed Monk held the scroll out to Dang Mujin. Seeing that detached attitude convinced Dang Mujin that coming to him had been the right choice.
"No. It seems too much for me to hold onto."
Dang Mujin knew his limits and didn't reach out. If he took the scroll back carelessly and got entangled in trouble, he'd be the first to die.
Life was far more important than a dubious fragment of a manual.
"Understood. You've worked hard—rest easy."
"Rest? I still have mountains of work."
As Dang Mujin reflexively declined, the Three-Eyed Monk put on a stern expression.
"Don't push yourself. Dawdle too long, miss the timing, and you won't have anything left to do."
"What timing do you mean?"
"The festival's winding down. Once it ends, the Manichaean Cult returns to a life of austerity and frugality per doctrine. If you're going to rest, there's no better time than now."
"Isn't the Demonic Cult always like this? Lively and fun."
"No. The mood starts building from deep winter, peaks at the festival with everyone reveling hard, then settles. It stays calm until the next autumn ends. Miss this, and you won't be able to play even if you want to."
"...I understand."
Dang Mujin left the Three-Eyed Monk's dwelling with a much lighter heart.
*
When Dang Mujin entered the Poison Blood Cave, no one was in sight.
But moments later, Mok Wan-ah appeared, drawn by his presence, approaching with an expression full of anticipation. It was obvious what she was hoping for.
Contrary to Mok Wan-ah's expectations, however, Dang Mujin hadn't brought any snacks. All he carried was four gourds' worth of grape wine. He planned to borrow the alcohol's power to sleep early.
"..."
Mok Wan-ah glared at Dang Mujin with profound dissatisfaction. The message in her eyes was clear: couldn't he go get some sweet snacks right now?
But Dang Mujin wasn't one to yield easily.
"Why? What?"
"Didn't you forget something?"
"Nope. Nothing."
With a sliver of hope, Mok Wan-ah watched Dang Mujin sip the wine. Maybe if he got in a good mood, he'd buy something. She racked her brains for ways to coax him.
But her thoughts didn't last long. Dang Mujin suddenly went quiet and collapsed into sleep like a felled tree.
He had been so busy lately, especially today with extra tasks, leaving him exhausted. Add alcohol on top, and he couldn't hold out.
Mok Wan-ah circled Dang Mujin with great dissatisfaction before finally sighing and pulling out a box of wall-grain pills.
Perhaps because her expectations were high, today's wall-grain pills tasted even blander than usual. To make matters worse, they seemed to have more pine pollen than normal, making them thicker and more throat-clogging.
Then something caught Mok Wan-ah's eye. The wine Dang Mujin had left half-finished. At least three gourds remained.
Mok Wan-ah recalled the taste of the grape wine he had brought last time.
It wasn't a delicacy, but the aroma was good, with a subtle tartness—not bad.
She tentatively reached out and put one bottle of Dang Mujin's wine to her lips. Her eyes widened. Unlike the previous grape wine, this one was much sweeter.
'Not bad.'
Mok Wan-ah drank the grape wine alone, using the wall-grain pills as an appetizer.
*
Alcohol helped him fall asleep easily, but waking up was unpredictable.
He might sleep deeply oblivious to the world and wake late, or far earlier than usual.
By Dang Mujin's senses, this was the latter. He hadn't slept long. He couldn't check outside, but night probably hadn't ended yet.
Thinking he should sleep more, Dang Mujin tossed and turned. Then he felt a prickling gaze.
Peeking through slitted eyes, he saw Mok Wan-ah's face right in front of his. At the same time, a heavy alcohol scent wafted over. Dang Mujin jolted awake in alarm.
"What? You scared me!"
Perhaps due to the alcohol, Mok Wan-ah spoke with a slight slur.
"You jerk! I thought you'd bring tanghulu! Do you know how much I was looking forward to it?"
What an outrageous claim. Dang Mujin had no intention of backing down.
"If you need it, go get it yourself. What do you think I am, your errand boy?"
Mok Wan-ah was at a loss for words. She knew even to herself it was an unreasonable demand.
But reason and emotion were separate realms. Betrayed expectations piled on resentment. Finally, the alcohol gently scratched at her heart, stirring her feelings. Moisture gathered at the corners of Mok Wan-ah's eyes.
She shot to her feet and shouted.
"I'll go get it myself! I'll buy it, dead or not!"
Her obsession with safety was so extreme that she vastly overestimated the dangers outside the cave. Mok Wan-ah opened the door to Poison Blood Cave and staggered out.
Dang Mujin lay back down indifferently. She was just talking big—she wouldn't really go out.
But Mok Wan-ah didn't return soon.
'...Damn it.'
Once awake, with something nagging at him, sleep wouldn't come again.
Dang Mujin got up.
There was no Mok Wan-ah on the path from Poison Blood Cave to the cave entrance.
'She really went out.'
Dang Mujin stepped outside.
It was dark. The tail end of night. The darkest hour before dawn.
He spotted Mok Wan-ah standing a short distance from the cave. Barely ten paces from the entrance.
But she stood there rooted, unable to proceed toward the village.
It happened sometimes. Fail the first attempt, and the second becomes unthinkable. For Mok Wan-ah, stepping out of the cave was just that.
People eventually hit turning points. They could be grand like historical heroes, or small like Mok Wan-ah's now.
Mok Wan-ah took short breaths and squeezed her eyes shut. But she still hesitated, not advancing.
Dang Mujin watched from afar, then approached and asked.
"How long's it been since you came this far?"
"...About five years, roughly. I remember coming out to see the sights and getting beaten."
He could guess who did it. Dang Mujin sighed deeply and stood before her.
"Let's go."
Dang Mujin took a couple of steps ahead.
Yet Mok Wan-ah still couldn't follow.
"We have to go today. The festival's ending."
"...That's exactly the problem. Better to come back when there are fewer people."
As Mok Wan-ah turned to leave, Dang Mujin stopped her.
"Fewer people? Hardly. Tomorrow's the last festival day, so tonight everyone rests early to party all through tomorrow night."
"But."
"If you want to eat as much tanghulu as you like, today or never. Tomorrow it'll be pointless."
Dang Mujin stepped right up to her. Then turned and said.
"We're not going far. Keep your head down, watch my heel, and follow."
Dang Mujin took one step. Very slowly. Mok Wan-ah matched pace from behind with her own step.
"Don't worry too much. I won't take you to crowded spots. We'll just look around from a bit away."
Right. That might be okay.
Mok Wan-ah lifted her head to gaze at the star-filled night sky. A spring dawn sky brimming with stars, as if they might pour down.
Her expression grew dreamy. Reality blurred. Fear faded. There was someone leading her.
Seeing this, Dang Mujin smirked.
"Hunch a bit more. Don't let the cold wind blow away your buzz."
As instructed, Mok Wan-ah huddled her posture. She clung tightly to the sweet, gentle dizziness the alcohol gifted.
Her heart raced somehow. Mok Wan-ah savored the tingling in her fingertips and toes, and the distant chirp of crickets.
"Let's go slow."
"Yeah."
With her head bowed, Mok Wan-ah stared at Dang Mujin's heel and took a step.
'I could go anywhere like this.'
So she thought.
*
In the early dawn, as Dang Mujin and Mok Wan-ah wandered the village outskirts.
The Three-Eyed Monk sensed footsteps approaching his house.
At first he thought it was Dang Mujin, but soon realized who the visitor was.
"Come in."
The one who entered was the Great Dharma Protector. He wore an extremely troubled expression and bowed politely to the Three-Eyed Monk.
"Sorry to disturb you at this inconvenient hour."
Though he might be unmatched in martial prowess, the Great Dharma Protector maintained a respectful demeanor before the Three-Eyed Monk. Respect for a senior with more years.
"What is it?"
"Have you seen Young Hero Dang by any chance?"
"I saw him earlier. Why?"
"I went to his place to ask about the messenger bird, but it was empty."
"Why not check Poison Blood Cave then?"
"He wasn't there either."
The Three-Eyed Monk eyed the Great Dharma Protector with half-lidded eyes.
He noticed the Great Dharma Protector's gaze sweeping the room interior.
And it lingered briefly on the scroll atop the table.
The Three-Eyed Monk inhaled slowly and deeply.
Just one breath. But his frame visibly expanded. To a size that overwhelmed everyone around.
In a low voice, the Three-Eyed Monk asked.
"Great Dharma Protector. Still curious where Young Hero Dang is?"
The Great Dharma Protector replied with a soft smile playing on his lips.
"No."
The Three-Eyed Monk swung a massive fist toward the Great Dharma Protector.