Freedom
The eminent monks of Shaolin pushed their lightness techniques to the absolute limit. The epicenter of the explosion was unmistakably the Repentance Cave. The high monks racing toward it, along with Hye-yul, were all individuals who knew the cave’s true secret. They prayed with everything they had that this was not the worst catastrophe they had feared.
The monks dreaded the possibility that it might awaken and unleash chaos upon the Murim. Yet Hye-yul’s only concern was the safety of the Blood-Handed Witch. Even as he guessed the explosion’s origin with painful clarity, he still prayed it was not that place. When they arrived, they found exactly what they had dreaded: the site where the Repentance Cave had once stood.
The Repentance Cave no longer existed. The mountain peak that had loomed steadfast beside Shaolin Temple for thousands of years had been obliterated entirely. It looked as though an absolute god had slammed a fist down upon it, leaving behind nothing but a colossal crater.
Black smoke and dust billowed into the sky while crimson flames flickered and died in scattered patches. At the center of the crater gaped a pitch-black hole that seemed to plunge all the way to the endless depths of the earth.
“....”
Everyone who knew the secret stood speechless, staring into that void. The very disaster they had feared for generations—the calamity warned about since the time of Bodhidharma—had finally come to pass.
Yet no trace of it could be found anywhere around them. Without needing orders, the high monks instinctively began scanning the surroundings. What they discovered was the sole survivor: Guyu Majon, sitting in a daze a short distance from the crater.
The monks, who had expected it to immediately stretch its demonic claws toward Shaolin the moment it broke free, were left utterly stunned. They swarmed toward Guyu Majon, the only witness.
Shaolin’s abbot, Hyeon-gak, asked urgently, “Majon! What in the world happened?”
Amid the ashes, Guyu Majon recounted what he had seen in a trembling voice. The earth had shaken, and a goddess with blood-red eyes and hair like flowing crimson had risen from the depths, descending directly onto the surface where the Repentance Cave had been. A cataclysmic explosion had erupted from the spot where she emerged, annihilating everything. The other prisoners inside the cave had been swallowed by the blast and vanished without a trace.
Guyu Majon stated that the goddess had pulled him out of the Repentance Cave moments before the explosion, sparing only him. The reason, he said, was so he could deliver her message to Bodhidharma’s descendants.
“What is the message that it commanded you to deliver?” Abbot Hyeon-gak asked.
Guyu Majon’s pupils trembled violently. “She instructed me to tell you… that in three years, she will return to Shaolin to claim the price of the wager.”
“Ugh!”
Hyeon-gak and the elder monks groaned at his answer.
Guyu Majon stared down at his own hands. The trembling still refused to stop. The sudden explosion and the overwhelming presence the Red-eyed Woman had radiated afterward were unlike anything he had experienced in more than ninety years of life.
Then a rough, low voice reached his ears. “So you’re saying all the other demonic heads who were in the Repentance Cave were swept up in that explosion and killed?”
When Guyu Majon looked up, the massive monk Hyeon-jung was striding toward him. The man possessed the same vast presence as before, yet after witnessing the Red-eyed Woman, he now seemed no more than a firefly before the sun.
“That is correct. As you can see, the entire mountain peak was blown apart. Who could possibly have survived?”
“Hmm.” Hyeon-jung crossed his arms and glared at him. “Then why do I get the feeling you’re lying through your teeth?”
At the killing intent in Hyeon-jung’s gaze, Guyu Majon’s throat bobbed as he swallowed dryly. For a brief moment he felt exposed, as if the monk could see straight through him. But he was no ordinary man—he was a battle-hardened elder of the former Demonic Cult. The hesitation passed quickly. He steadied his expression and met Hyeon-jung’s eyes directly.
“I’m curious about that myself. Whether they truly perished in the blast. Shall we search for them together?”
Hyeon-jung studied him closely. Truth, or falsehood?
He activated his Delusion-Breaker Eye, carefully examining the depths of Guyu Majon’s being. The uneasy feeling had made him suspicious from the start, yet the Delusion-Breaker Eye could only pierce the fundamental nature of people and objects. It could not mechanically separate truth from lies. It could only infer based on a person’s character and the subtle shifts in their energy.
As humans live and grow, a unique aura gathers around them. The closer it is to pure white, the more aligned with good. The darker it becomes, the more steeped in evil. When someone with a predominantly good aura commits a negative act such as lying, their white energy clouds over momentarily from the sting of conscience. Those rotten to the core, however, feel no guilt even when lying, so their dark aura remains unchanged.
Yet the energy Hyeon-jung saw around Guyu Majon was a bright gray, surprisingly close to good. And as the man spoke, not even a speck of darkness tainted that bright gray aura.
No change in color. That meant he was not lying.
…His energy isn’t clouding. Then it must be the truth.
Hyeon-jung mistakenly concluded that Guyu Majon’s words were genuine. Whether the old demonic elder had grown so shameless that he felt no guilt while lying, or whether his conviction to save his comrades was simply too strong for his aura to waver, Hyeon-jung could not tell. In the end, he was deceived.
That’s right. What does the Blood-Handed Witch matter now? The critical issue is that ‘it’ has awakened.
Hyeon-jung surveyed the devastated ruins and cleanly severed any lingering attachment to the Blood-Handed Witch or the other demonic prisoners. Tracking it was what mattered now.
He turned to Abbot Hyeon-gak. “Senior Brother, what should we do? Shouldn’t we begin pursuing it immediately?”
“Pursue it? And suppose we succeed. What exactly would we do once we caught up?”
“Then are you suggesting we simply sit here and do nothing?”
Abbot Hyeon-gak half-closed his eyes, gently stroking his lush white beard as he sank into thought.
“I am not saying we should remain idle. Since it declared it would return to Shaolin in three years to claim its due… we must cultivate our strength.”
“Cultivate our strength?”
“Starting today, Shaolin will seal its gates. We will prepare ourselves to face this great enemy.”
“…!”
Hyeon-jung’s eyes widened. Having made his decision, Hyeon-gak turned toward Guyu Majon, who still sat weakly on the ground.
“Majon, what do you intend to do now?”
Guyu Majon lifted his head. “What do you mean? My life is in Shaolin’s hands, is it not?”
“So you wish to remain confined within Shaolin?”
“My crimes are grave. This is only natural punishment.”
Hyeon-gak studied him carefully. Originally, Guyu Majon and the other demonic prisoners of the Repentance Cave had committed serious offenses, yet their true purpose had been to serve as components for the Vision Manifestation Array that kept it suppressed. Now that it had awakened and the array was destroyed, the prisoners were no longer necessary. Moreover, Guyu Majon appeared to genuinely repent his sins and had already endured sufficient punishment. Hyeon-gak no longer saw any reason to keep him confined.
“Guyu Majon. You are free. Go where you will.”
The other elder monks were startled, but no one was more shocked than Guyu Majon himself.
“Senior Brother! How can you release this villain—!”
“Abbot! What are you saying?! I am over ninety years old. Where would an old man like me even go?”
“Why ask me? The Repentance Cave is gone, as you can see. What would you have me do?”
“I have no strength left in these old bones. How am I supposed to survive alone in the ruthless Murim? Let me instead devote the rest of my life to Shaolin, repenting my sins and making amends.”
At the abbot’s declaration of freedom, Guyu Majon grew visibly agitated.
“Where is there nowhere for you to go? Return to the Demonic Cult,” Hyeon-gak answered curtly. “Besides, did you not hear what I said? We are sealing our gates. Where exactly do you think you would be entering? Begone. Far away.”
“If I return to the Divine Cult, they will kill me! You know this! How can a merciful Buddhist disciple act this way?!”
“Go seek great mercy from a true monk. Why expect it from fake monks who spend their time beating people?” Hyeon-gak clicked his tongue. “I will prepare some Bigu Dan to sustain you on your journey. Leave at once. Hye-yul, go fetch—”
Hyeon-gak looked for Hye-yul, but the young monk who had followed them had already vanished.
“Where has that boy disappeared to now?”
At that very moment, Hye-yul had slipped away from his master and the abbot. He raced toward his quarters using lightning-fast lightness skill. When he had first reached the explosion site, he had seen only signs of utter devastation. The Blood-Handed Witch had been nowhere in sight.
Shaken, he had frantically searched the area for any trace of her. What the abbot and his master—distracted by the greater threat—had overlooked, he had noticed.
Five li from the former Repentance Cave, at the first fork in the road, he had discovered multiple sets of footprints. They were the distinctive marks left behind when several people employed high-level lightness techniques. The moment he spotted the smallest set of tracks, Hye-yul understood everything.
She escaped!
He had immediately returned to his quarters, packed Bigu Dan and the barest essentials, and left behind a single letter. Then he had dashed off in the direction the Blood-Handed Witch’s footprints led.
Blood-Handed Witch… you are safe. Wait for me. I am coming to find you this instant.
Hye-yul raced up the mountain at the peak of his lightness skill. Rain seemed imminent. The overcast sky hid the moon, and the air grew thick with dampness. If it rained, every trace would be washed away. He had to hurry. He needed to reach her before the tracks disappeared.
Whether the rain erased the other demonic prisoners’ footprints did not matter to him. He could only pray to Buddha that at least the Blood-Handed Witch’s trail would remain.