The Extreme Sword Dragon (1)
"That was closer than I expected."
I slipped away from the scene without any unexpected incidents like running into Song Kang Isu, so I didn't suffer any serious harm. But since I had wounds, treating them ended up costing me an extra day. Today, I finally arrived at Shaolin Temple, the heart of Henan.
The closer I got, the more crowded it became, but this place exceeded my imagination. The noise was so loud that I couldn't even make out what people were saying just a few steps away. Taking one step forward felt like being pushed back two. It was a bizarre scene unfolding right before my eyes.
"Hoo..."
After stirring up the entire area for over half a shichen, I finally reached the entrance to Mount Song. Originally, on the day of the Yongbongjihoe itself, even non-martial artists could climb the mountain, but before that, it wasn't allowed, so the surroundings were surprisingly quiet. People trying to force their way in anyway. And the Shaolin monks restricting entry to stop them.
I approached them, pressed my palms together in a Buddhist greeting, and spoke politely.
"I am Jin Sowoon, ten years old this year. I've come to participate in the Yongbongjihoe. May I ascend Mount Song?"
One of the Shaolin monks stepped forward, returned the greeting with joined palms, and asked a question.
"Young master Jin. It is good to meet you."
"First, allow me to express my honor at encountering one of the Wulin's proud rising stars, and then I have something to tell you."
Still with his hands joined, he bowed his head slightly before raising it again. Looking at me, he delivered his message.
"As you know, the Yongbongjihoe is a martial tournament open to any rising star under the age of twenty."
I nodded at his words. I already knew this well, having heard it several times from Namgung Seha along with various precautions.
Seeing my nod, he made a regretful expression and continued.
"However, since it is a sparring contest akin to real combat, there are unfortunate cases where participants lose their lives. Neither our Shaolin Temple nor the Alliance wishes to see the Wulin's rising stars perish like this, and it must not happen."
That made sense. Even outside of the Yongbongjihoe, quite a few people died during sparring matches. Swords had no eyes, and death had no escape. Most considered using practice swords for sparring too dull, so they usually fought with real blades. Sometimes, a misplaced strike would result in death. After training diligently for over a decade, dying in a single sparring match would be far too hollow.
"People generally think they'll only get injured and not die, but reality isn't so kind. There are things that cannot be overcome with ordinary sword techniques and internal energy alone."
I knew the answer. It was the difference in realms. No matter how hard one struggled with mysterious sword arts and profound internal energy, there were limits one simply could not reach. And what the Shaolin monk wanted now was proof of the gap between first-class and Peak Realm.
"Could you show us your sword qi?"
I had already heard about this and knew what to expect.
I drew my sword and infused it with internal energy. A translucent haze rose, wrapping around the blade and taking the form of a sword. The Shaolin monk observed it, then bowed with joined palms and spoke.
"Young master Jin. Confirmed. Please forgive our rudeness."
"Not at all. I understand."
Since he had explained his intention and I understood it, I simply sheathed my sword and expressed that it was fine.
Then, a sudden question occurred to me, and I asked him cautiously.
"... But may I ask you one thing?"
The monk, who had been about to return to his position, turned back and said,
"If it is something I can answer, I shall do so. Please, ask."
Suddenly, the faces of countless people I had seen while passing through numerous inns in the past flashed through my mind. Among them were some Peak Realm experts, but far more who were not.
"I already knew from others, but after seeing it in person, I became curious. Why do martial artists below the Peak Realm... those who cannot participate in the Yongbongjihoe... come all the way to this distant Henan?"
I understood why the Wulin Alliance restricted participants in the Yongbongjihoe. As the Shaolin monk had said earlier, the first reason was to preserve lives, and the second was to prune the field so only the truly skilled remained. But I couldn't understand why so many first-class experts had to flock all the way to Henan. It seemed like nothing but a waste of time, so I asked him.
The Shaolin monk pondered for a moment, then lowered his head deeply and spoke carefully.
"... I know the answer, but I fear this answer might taint the young master Jin's heart with maguni."
Maguni. From the sound of it, the reason wasn't something as pure as a simple desire for martial arts. But I really wanted to hear it. If it was maguni, my head was already full of that anyway.
"I'm fine. I simply wish to hear, see, and learn from everything."
Only then did the monk, who had been hesitating until the end, lift his head with a resigned expression and slowly give me the answer.
"... Among the many reasons, the biggest is to form connections with noble figures."
"Forming ties with those commonly called great sects and prestigious families is, from their perspective, more helpful than achieving a higher realm."
Greater help. He was talking about power and wealth. The Shaolin monk spoke words unexpected from one bound by Shaolin's spirit and precepts.
"I do not think that is bad. How could one call it wrong for humans living mortal lives to desire prosperity for themselves and their precious ones?"
"However, many people, in pursuit of even greater prosperity, end up violating what they should not touch—others' possessions."
His expression was a mix of compassion and regret. Seeing that look, I couldn't help but reflect on his words and empathize.
"Human greed is like an oncoming wave—endless. Even if one somehow holds it back, it eventually rises again. I believe that enduring without being swept away by it is more important to a person than a lifetime of martial study."
Amitabha.
He repeated the Buddhist invocation several times before looking at me and offering advice.
"... You said you are ten and have already reached the Peak Realm? It is astonishing. That is why you will face even more temptations. Among them, young master, I hope you become a rock that is not swept away by the oncoming waves."
The Shaolin monk smiled faintly, then spoke self-mockingly.
"To think that while carrying out the duty of a gatekeeper, I end up spouting my own thoughts instead of stopping the visitor's steps. It seems I am still lacking."
He bowed once more, chanted a Buddhist invocation, and said to me,
"My idle chatter has gone on too long. It seems I've only given you unnecessary worries. May good fortune accompany you, young master."
I also joined my palms, chanted a Buddhist invocation, and began ascending the mountain.
As expected of Shaolin. Even after a thousand years since Dharma founded the sect, it remained the symbol of the Nine Great Schools untainted by the mundane world, the last and greatest bastion of the righteous path, and the pinnacle of chivalry. Those words were no mere facade. I knew that Shaolin monks learned the reason for studying martial arts before learning the arts themselves, and learned what Buddhism was before entering its path.
With joined palms, I expressed my sincere gratitude for his advice.
"Not at all. Thank you for your valuable guidance."
.
.
Shaolin was quiet. Though there were visitors for the Yongbongjihoe, they did not act rowdy in the face of the name Shaolin Temple, so it was far quieter than down the mountain.
The towering and majestic mountain gate of Shaolin. It wasn't as large as the Namgung Clan, but it carried a different kind of grandeur.
The moment I passed through the open gate, one person immediately caught my eye. He wore a blue robe completely different from the orange monastic robes of Shaolin Temple. And he didn't seem like an ordinary rising star—his face was far too aged.
As I tried to approach a little closer, he noticed me first and gestured. From outside to inside. It was a sign to come closer. I approached, and the man in the blue robe spoke.
"Sect, name, age."
"Pardon?"
When he suddenly asked for my personal information, I reflexively asked back. He tilted his head as if puzzled and said,
"It's for the Yongbongjihoe, isn't it?"
"... Yes, it is."
When I answered awkwardly, he continued.
"Sect, name, age. If you don't tell me, I can't make the matchups."
He held a brush as if ready to write and tapped it, looking at me with an expression that said, What are you dawdling for?
"Jin Sowoon of the Pacheon Sword Sect. I am ten years old this year."
He nodded to himself, wrote a few characters in the register, then gestured toward the opposite side.
"Go over there and someone will tell you where to stay. Off you go."
The man waved his hand again. I turned and headed to the place he indicated. It seemed like someone would be sitting somewhere like before, but I couldn't see them clearly. As I wandered around, someone tapped me from behind.
"Do you remember me?"
I turned my head at the greeting. The person slightly lifted the deeply pressed-down bamboo hat. It was a face I knew well.
"Huh?"