Chapter 47
Chapter 47
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Shaolin Temple
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Monk Manryeok clearly didn’t believe Yi Chung’s story.
“Dang layman is going to fix the Wooden Man Alley? Didn’t you say he was a physician?”
“He is a physician. But there’s no rule saying a person can only have one skill. Just like a grub can both crawl and roll.”
Dang Mujin eyed Yi Chung from a slouched posture.
“Old man, that’s a pretty bland way to put it.”
“Like a grub that crawls and rolls.”
“Let’s just not talk anymore.”
While Dang Mujin and Yi Chung bickered, Monk Manryeok scanned Dang Mujin up and down. He didn’t look reliable at all.
“With such light footwork and a sword at your waist, it seems you’ve trained some martial arts decently well. But you’re also doing physician work and carpentry on top of that?”
“Yeah. To be precise, not carpentry but blacksmithing.”
“At your age, a martial artist, a physician, a carpenter, and a blacksmith? This just keeps getting more absurd.”
“There are strange folks in the world. Take a look at this.”
Yi Chung untied the sword from his waist and handed it over to Monk Manryeok, scabbard and all.
“This sword was made by that guy.”
Monk Manryeok awkwardly drew the short sword from its sheath. He stared at the blade for a moment before mumbling a vague reply.
“Hmm. It’s a sharp sword.”
Yi Chung pressed a hand to his forehead. Anyone could tell he hadn’t recognized the short sword’s true value.
Of course, it would be weirder if Monk Manryeok, who’d never held a sword in his life, could appraise its worth.
“Just think ‘this is an impressive sword.’ Anyway, where’s the Wooden Man Alley?”
“Keep going straight this way. But the door will be locked, so don’t head straight there. Go to the Chu Bo Hall first. They handle facility management. The problem is their hall master won’t be too thrilled about it.”
“Why?”
“The Chu Bo Hall Master is the one who suggested tearing down the Wooden Man Alley to make a training ground instead.”
Yi Chung’s eyebrow twitched. He looked like a man who’d heard something unbelievable.
“The guy in charge of managing facilities suggested demolishing the Wooden Man Alley? Why on earth?”
“It’s been nearly thirty years since the current Chu Bo Hall Master took the position, and he’s had headaches over people claiming they’d fix it more times than he can count. He probably wants to just get rid of it entirely.”
“Monk... What does the current abbot think?”
“The abbot’s stance is ambiguous. He publicly declared he’d give anything as a reward if someone could fix it, but he doesn’t believe anyone actually can. Even if you jump in claiming you’ll repair the Wooden Man Alley, you won’t get any support until it’s done.”
The lack of support wasn’t a big deal. What was truly tempting was the reward the abbot had offered.
“Anything?”
“To be exact, anything except the Green Jade Buddha Staff.”
If he’d give everything except the Green Jade Buddha Staff, that meant even Shaolin’s famed spirit pills like the Great Reversion Pill could be on the table.
No, he wouldn’t even need the Great Reversion Pill. Just snagging a Minor Reversion Pill would be an enormous gain.
Despite its modest name, the Minor Reversion Pill was one of the top spirit pills in the entire martial world. The ingredients were incredibly rare, and the refining process so demanding that even Shaolin could only produce one or two every few years.
Yi Chung spoke with full confidence.
“Perfect. I’ll handle the aftermath. Which way to the Chu Bo Hall?”
“Walk between the Great Hero Hall and the Gandhara Hall, and you’ll see a building straight ahead.”
“Got it. See you later.”
The three headed toward the Chu Bo Hall. Dang Mujin and Hong Geolgae gawked around like country bumpkins with narrow experiences. At first, there were many martial monks, then more scholarly monks, and soon administrative monks appeared.
Administrative monks, unlike martial monks who trained in martial arts or scholarly monks who studied the Buddha’s teachings, were the monks who handled the temple’s operations and administration.
Those unfamiliar with temple inner workings often saw administrative monks as mere laborers.
But the reality was different. Without administrative monks, the temple wouldn’t function properly, so they held considerable respect within the temple. The Chu Bo Hall Master, as their leader, was one of the real power holders in Shaolin.
Yi Chung asked a young administrative monk.
“Is the Chu Bo Hall Master inside?”
“Yes. He’s in there.”
The group entered the Chu Bo Hall. An elderly, gaunt monk was grinding ink.
His brow was perpetually furrowed even without effort, etched with deep wrinkles—the inevitable mark of someone in a managerial role who had to meddle in every little matter.
The Chu Bo Hall Master paused his ink grinding and spoke.
“What brings you laymen here?”
“We came about the Wooden Man Alley.”
At the mention of the Wooden Man Alley, the Chu Bo Hall Master openly recoiled.
“Just leave.”
“Why dismiss us without even hearing the full story? I heard fixing the Wooden Man Alley is Shaolin’s long-standing wish.”
“The previous abbot thought so. But not now. Even the current abbot has given up on it.”
“Why?”
“Because no one has ever succeeded. In the thirty years I’ve served as Chu Bo Hall Master, dozens have come claiming they could fix it. Famous carpenters. Renowned formation experts. Daoists claiming expertise in mechanisms. But not one has even fixed a single arm properly.”
Once he started talking, his voice rose as if anger welled up.
“The worse part is how much they all demanded despite that. Some needed a whole season. Others wanted five lightning-struck oak trees. Some said they’d bring their own craftsmen if we covered travel and startup fees. The previous abbot granted every one out of hope, nearly uprooting Shaolin’s foundations.”
Now his voice carried not just resentment, but outright enmity.
“Those who tried and failed are still better. The ones who took the startup gold and fled over the wall! The ones who fiddled around for six days pretending to work, then tried stealing scriptures from the Sutra Repository under cover of night! Every time those happened, imagine how the Eight Great Courtyard Masters viewed the temple...”
“We’re not like that.”
The Chu Bo Hall Master shook his head slowly and let out a deep sigh.
“Well, that’s what they all say. What do you do?”
“I’m Yi Chung, a martial artist and physician. This guy’s just a beggar named Hong Geolgae, and the one over there is Dang Mujin. Martial artist, physician, blacksmith, and carpenter.”
The Chu Bo Hall Master squeezed his eyes shut.
“So, this Dang Mujin layman is the one claiming to fix the Wooden Man Alley?”
“Exactly.”
“Go home.”
“Why again?”
“I told you. Countless renowned carpenters and blacksmiths from across the Central Plains have tried and failed to achieve even the smallest result. If those who’ve worked with iron and wood for decades couldn’t, how could a young man barely in his twenties, who’s dabbled in this and that, possibly do it? Go home.”
Yi Chung shrugged.
“I’ve learned in life that skill doesn’t follow age. Among those blacksmiths and carpenters, none are better than this kid.”
“Experience isn’t everything, but some things can only be learned through experience.”
“Jeez.”
Yi Chung scratched the back of his head and asked the Chu Bo Hall Master.
“Is there a place in the Shaolin grounds to hammer iron?”
“No.”
“What about carving knives?”
“None. Carving isn’t common, and if needed, we just call in outsiders.”
“Then you must have farming tools?”
“Well, monks till fields, so we have a few... What kind do you mean?”
“Anything with a blade. Doesn’t matter.”
“We have hoes and sickles.”
“A hoe barely qualifies as bladed, but a sickle should do.”
Yi Chung stepped out of the Chu Bo Hall, asked a young administrative monk something, and soon returned with a small whetstone, a sickle, and a palm-sized wooden block.
Yi Chung wet the whetstone with water, sharpened only the sickle’s tip to a keen edge, then dulled the rest of the blade by grinding it against the side.
“What are you doing?”
“Just watch.”
Yi Chung handed the sickle and wooden block to Dang Mujin.
“You can do it, right?”
“Do what?”
“Carve something.”
It was a ridiculous demand. But Dang Mujin knew what was expected.
Dang Mujin gripped the sickle’s handle and roughly chopped off a corner of the wooden block. Discomfort was evident on the Chu Bo Hall Master’s face.
“You have important work, so take your games outside.”
“Games? Sure, it’s a game. But more entertaining than most.”
The Chu Bo Hall Master considered calling martial monks to eject them but sighed deeply instead. Better to humor them briefly than bother summoning people.
With a skeptical gaze, the Chu Bo Hall Master watched the Dang youth carve the wood with the sickle.
Dang Mujin carelessly hacked at the block. He roughly shaped the lump, then gripped not the handle but the flat side of the sickle blade to start sculpting.
An indistinct lump quickly took on a human form. As the cross-legged figure sharpened, the sickle blade in Dang Mujin’s hand noticeably shortened.
“...”
The Chu Bo Hall Master forgot his earlier dismissive attitude and intently watched Dang Mujin wield the sickle.
His grip awkward, making his hand numb, Dang Mujin occasionally switched to his left hand and shook out his right.
Awkward posture, crude tool. Worthless scrap of wood. Yet the emerging form was anything but crude.
Soon the cross-legged knees and legs took shape, ample robes flowed out, and Vairocana Buddha’s face emerged.
Dang Mujin carved the final ornament atop Vairocana’s head, set down the sickle, and handed the Buddha statue to the Chu Bo Hall Master. A statue no bigger than a palm.
The Chu Bo Hall Master examined the tiny statue in hushed awe.
Vairocana sat cross-legged, left index finger extended and grasped by the right hand—the Wisdom Fist Mudra symbolizing the unity of the world.
The robes rippled with fine wrinkles, and atop the head sat an intricate Five Wisdom Jewel Crown. Vairocana gazed at the Chu Bo Hall Master with serene, compassionate smile. The Chu Bo Hall Master felt breathless.
He gingerly touched the Five Wisdom Jewel Crown. The crown sat so naturally it seemed separately crafted and placed atop. Even having watched it made before his eyes.
Was it possible to craft such a tiny statue so exquisitely? The Chu Bo Hall Master murmured unwittingly.
“Vairocana Buddha...”
“Oh, so this is Vairocana Buddha? I’d only heard the name.”
The Chu Bo Hall Master whipped his head to stare at Dang Mujin. He thought it a joke, but the face showed none.
“You made a Buddha statue without knowing what it was?”
“First time I’ve ever been in a temple.”
“Not knowing temples isn’t the point. You must have known Vairocana to make it.”
“On the way here, I saw the statue in front of that Gandhara Hall or whatever and carved from memory.”
No way.
The Chu Bo Hall Master examined the Vairocana statue again. It vaguely matched the one before the Gandhara Hall. Though the original wasn’t this refined.
The pose, adornments, attire—all identical. Dang Mujin had simply scaled it down, made the posture more natural, and infused vitality.
Cradling the statue in both hands, the Chu Bo Hall Master closed his eyes and murmured inwardly. Amitabha.
He returned to his desk and tested the ink he’d ground before the guests arrived, dipping in his pinky.
No extra water added, yet the ink remained wet and fresh.
Memories surfaced from when he first became Chu Bo Hall Master. The Eight Great Courtyard Masters glaring with triangular eyes, furious over charlatans fleecing Shaolin’s wealth.
Though it was the previous abbot’s orders to provide the funds, they scolded the Chu Bo Hall Master instead.
How many times had he vowed never to let outsiders near the Wooden Man Alley once he became abbot?
Yet now, he felt it might actually succeed this time. That the wooden man might truly come alive. He felt enchanted.
The Chu Bo Hall Master chuckled in a way uncharacteristic of himself.
If it was a scam, so be it. Even that would be the Buddha’s will.
He spoke to the three.
“Follow me.”
The Chu Bo Hall Master led them to the Wooden Man Alley.
He undid the stiff bolt. Nearby monks buzzed as if witnessing something wondrous.
People had come claiming to repair the Wooden Man Alley recently too.
But it had been seven years since the Chu Bo Hall Master had unlocked it to let outsiders in.
Dust hung thickly in the air as the Wooden Man Alley welcomed the four.