Chapter 201
Chapter 201
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 201
Chapter Title: Repentance Cave
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The old man made a meaningful proposal, but Hong Geolgae found no appeal in it.
Naturally, the Shaolin monks did not drink alcohol.
Dang Mujin and his group were not monks, so they weren't forced to abstain, but smuggling liquor into the Shaolin Temple felt awkward no matter how he thought about it.
Besides, wasn't this old man a demonic figure locked away in the Repentance Cave?
Hong Geolgae recalled the complicated look in Manryeokseung's eyes as he gazed at the Three-Eyed Buddha.
Dang Mujin had already incurred a debt to Shaolin, so he could gloss over his familiarity with the Three-Eyed Buddha. But if Hong Geolgae got caught catering to the old man's whims, it wouldn't be so easily overlooked.
Moreover, Hong Geolgae felt a fundamental aversion to building ties with a demon.
Unlike Dang Mujin, who didn't consider himself a righteous sect warrior because he had a demonic teacher, Hong Geolgae firmly believed he was one.
Hong Geolgae glanced at Namgung Myeong.
If someone else had made a similar offer, Namgung Myeong would have quipped something like, "Why not teach that technique to me instead?"
Yet Namgung Myeong showed no interest in the martial art the old man offered. He too took pride as a righteous sect warrior.
That was why Hong Geolgae turned down the proposal.
"I'm not particularly looking to learn any new techniques. Just mastering what I already know is challenge enough."
"I see."
The old man didn't seem disappointed. He appeared to accept Hong Geolgae's response as natural, perhaps even relieved at the refusal.
As Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myeong turned to leave the cave, the old man belatedly called them back.
"Wait. I have one request."
"What is it?"
"Don't spread word outside that I asked for alcohol."
It was a request so obvious it bordered on unnecessary. Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myeong had no intention of bragging about sneaking into the Repentance Cave.
"Of course."
"Thank you."
The old man resumed kneading his wall-grain pellets, and Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myeong departed the Repentance Cave.
*
The very next day, a minor issue arose. Unable to endure the boredom, Namgung Myeong had been teaching the novice monks the cup-and-ball trick when he was caught by the Pursuit Hall Leader.
". . . Layman Namgung. What exactly are you teaching them?"
"It's a method to train precise handiwork. It helps greatly when learning Finger Flicking or Golden Oriole Hand."
"As a scriptural monk rather than a martial one, I know little of martial arts, but this clearly isn't aiding their cultivation."
"As you say, Leader. You're a scriptural monk, so you see it that way. A martial monk would view it differently."
Namgung Myeong brazened it out, but the Pursuit Hall Leader, who had watched people train in martial arts for decades, wasn't fooled.
The Pursuit Hall Leader shadowed Namgung Myeong all day, staring at him with piercing eyes.
In the end, Namgung Myeong couldn't withstand the pressure and fled to the lower village. Hong Geolgae thought it was for the best.
With Namgung Myeong gone from Shaolin, Hong Geolgae now had the most free time.
Dang Mujin was busy with treatments, Hyeon-gong with sparring sessions, and the young Wang Jincheong was occupied playing with the other novices.
'Idle time is nice.'
Hong Geolgae spent his leisurely days practicing the forms of the Subduing Dragon Eighteen Palms he had learned from Geolseon in Luoyang.
*
A few days later, as Hong Geolgae lay in bed lost in thought, an image of Ma Jeon-gae slowly crept into his mind.
The memory began with his gentle master's face and flowed into the moment Ma Jeon-gae accepted his death.
Next came recollections of the Zhuul Village folk turning their backs on the dead Ma Jeon-gae and himself, and of building his master's grave with bare hands and a crude stick.
Normally, his thoughts would stop there, but this time another surfaced.
His elderly master. The even older freak of the Repentance Cave.
His master's grave covered in red soil. The Repentance Cave's iron gate thick with red rust. A door untouched for ages.
Until Ma Jeon-gae's final moments, Hong Geolgae had been by his side.
But no one was by the Repentance Cave freak's side, nor would there ever be.
The old man would meet his end alone, unknown to all. Unlike Ma Jeon-gae, he wouldn't even be buried—just quietly turn to bones on the dirt floor.
The thought nagged at Hong Geolgae.
Tossing and turning for a long while, he finally rose and headed to the Repentance Cave. He had no intention of bringing alcohol, of course.
*
When Hong Geolgae arrived at the Repentance Cave, the old man sat motionless in the spot where he made his wall-grain pellets.
Even with Hong Geolgae's arrival, there was no reaction.
'Is he asleep sitting up?'
Hong Geolgae had no intention of waking him, so he quietly sat and looked around.
But after about half a shichen, Hong Geolgae noticed something odd. Even in sleep, one must breathe—the chest should move—but the old man's showed no motion.
'. . . Died in the last few days?'
He had no reason to feel guilty, yet Hong Geolgae did as he approached.
'If I was coming anyway, I should have come sooner to at least witness his final moments.'
But the moment Hong Geolgae drew near, the old man suddenly inhaled and chuckled.
"How was it? Looked real enough, didn't it?"
"How did you do that? I confirmed you weren't breathing."
"Not that I wasn't breathing—I was breathing very slowly. Ever heard of the Turtle Breath Great Method?"
"I've heard the name."
Hong Geolgae feigned indifference in his reply, but inwardly he was impressed.
He had only heard of the Turtle Breath Great Method, never seen it used.
What practical use could faking death have? And it surely wasn't easy to learn.
Dissatisfied with Hong Geolgae's reaction, the old man wore a slightly displeased expression.
Then, in the next moment, a strange voice echoed.
-How about this, then?
Hong Geolgae looked around. The circumstances pointed to the old man, but he couldn't pinpoint the direction. Worse, it didn't even sound like the old man's voice.
"Was that you, elder?"
-Yes.
Hong Geolgae couldn't use transmission arts himself, but he knew this wasn't ordinary telepathy. It sounded like multiple people shouting from every direction.
"What technique is that?"
The old man now replied in a normal voice.
"It's a little trick I made up—no special name. If I had to call it something, maybe Six Directions Voice Projection. Impressive, eh? Lets you badmouth others without being overheard."
"Quite marvelous."
Pleased by Hong Geolgae's genuine surprise, the old man grinned, his wrinkled eyes crinkling fully.
Hong Geolgae realized the old man was lonely. Craving human warmth, he was showing off these tricks for conversation.
The shift from his passive demeanor days ago made sense. Namgung Myeong and Hong Geolgae's visits had disrupted the old man's long solitude.
The old man picked up a well-dried wall-grain pellet and offered it to Hong Geolgae.
"Nothing proper to offer a guest but these. Have one at least."
Hong Geolgae wasn't hungry, but he wanted to play along, so he extended his hand.
Pretending to hand over the pellet, the old man subtly twisted and snatched Hong Geolgae's wrist. It wasn't threatening or forceful.
'A hand technique contest?'
When gauging proficiency in hand-focused arts like Finger Flicking or Golden Oriole Hand, warriors often played this game of grabbing wrists.
Purely testing hand skill, without relying on strength or speed.
Hong Geolgae was confident in this area.
Lacking in speed or inner power, he had learned numerous hand and palm techniques, giving him the edge. He even held an advantage over Namgung Myeong or Dang Mujin.
'I'll show him what I've got.'
Hong Geolgae unleashed the Great Snatch Hand—a technique the Great Wind Beggar insisted every Beggars' Sect member master.
He slowly clenched and opened his hand, smoothly bending and twisting his wrist to target the old man's.
Yet the old man, moving just as slowly, effortlessly gripped for Hong Geolgae's wrist.
'Great Snatch Hand won't cut it.'
Next, Hong Geolgae deployed Cloud Crane Dispersing Hands.
A Kunlun Sect art, not Beggars' Sect. The Great Wind Beggar had been a Kunlun Daoist before joining, so Hong Geolgae learned it too.
The most intricate and refined among his hand techniques, it boasted over eighty percent win rate against friends.
But the old man blocked it with ease.
'What?'
Hong Geolgae tried everything he knew: Eastern Chase Hand, Golden Dragon Skill.
The old man dismantled them all effortlessly, chuckling.
"You've learned quite a variety."
The old man's skill far exceeded Hong Geolgae's expectations.
Panicking, Hong Geolgae racked his brain for other hand techniques. Nothing came.
'No, there is one.'
The Jade Breaking Hand his master Ma Jeon-gae taught him as a child.
Cruder than the others, it too was quickly subdued.
But the old man took interest not in the prior arts, but Hong Geolgae's final Jade Breaking Hand.
"Looks like Beggars' Sect Jade Breaking Hand, but it's off. Differs from what I know in several ways."
"In what ways?"
"Never learned it directly, but the one I remember goes like this."
The old man demonstrated the form, his hands moving intricately.
It vaguely resembled Hong Geolgae's, but the fingerwork was entirely different.
His slender, branch-like fingers made the Jade Breaking Hand seem far stronger and more powerful than Hong Geolgae's.
Hong Geolgae hesitated before replying.
". . . I wasn't properly taught, so that's probably why."
"Could be. But seems a deeper reason. You learned it young, didn't you? Before age ten."
"How did you know?"
"It's obvious it was adapted for a child. Traces of modification for weak grip and short fingers—lacking adult strength. Not perfectly refined, but no easy feat."
Hong Geolgae's face flushed red.
He revered Ma Jeon-gae as master yet belatedly realized he had been ashamed of the techniques he taught.
Stunned for a long moment, Hong Geolgae abruptly stood.
"Leaving already?"
". . . Yes."
"You just got here. Poor hospitality, I know, but at least have a wall-grain pellet before you go."
"I'm fine."
Before entering the cave on his way out, Hong Geolgae turned back to the nameless old man.
"I'll come again tomorrow. Thank you, elder."
Was it the unfamiliar courtesy, or joy at the promise of return?
The old man finally smiled brightly.
"Do that."
*
Namgung Myeong had fled to the lower village to escape the Pursuit Hall Leader, but meals for him still arrived at Shaolin's guest hall.
Simple temple fare: rice mixed with grains, blanched or stir-fried vegetables. Nothing special.
Usually, the hearty eater Wang Jincheong devoured Namgung Myeong's share too, but oddly, today he left it untouched and wandered off.
Pondering the leftover food, Hong Geolgae thought of the Repentance Cave elder.
Skinny as a rail, yet claimed three wall-grain pellets sufficed daily.
He hadn't intended it, but after receiving a small lesson, bringing the extras seemed fine.
'It's not alcohol. This should be okay.'
Like any beggar, Hong Geolgae balled the food into rice balls, wrapped them in clean leaves, and took them along.
No meat or fancy dishes, but a savory oil aroma wafted through the leaves.
Nothing like the bland, heavy wall-grain pellets.
'He won't refuse, will he?'
Hong Geolgae raced to the Repentance Cave as if wings had sprouted.
Today, the old man faced the cave entrance instead of turning away.
Spotting Hong Geolgae, he said,
"You're here."
"Yes. Here, take this first."
"What's this?"
Hong Geolgae handed over the still-warm rice ball.
The old man startled at the unfamiliar warmth and oily scent.
Visibly tense, he slowly unwrapped the leaf.
As the rice ball emerged, his face lit with ecstasy, on the verge of tears.
Contrary to Hong Geolgae's worries, the old man devoured it like a man possessed.
"Eating that fast after starving so long could cause trouble."
"It's fine. It's fine . . . ."
Tears streaming, he finished every bite, his expression one of utter bliss.
Like withered grass suddenly blooming under spring rain.
Only then did Hong Geolgae truly sense the old man was alive.
"If you were that hungry, why not eat more wall-grain pellets normally? You said three a day was enough last time. You could handle thirty per meal."
Hearing this, the old man blushed to his ears and bowed his head.
"Thirty? Easily. In my youth, I was known for my appetite. They said I devoured all the alms food myself . . . . But now, I can't."
One word in the old man's tale caught Hong Geolgae's ear.
". . . Alms? Were you a monk?"
The old man nodded sheepishly.