Maternal Home (2)
In his previous life, the Murim Alliance had somehow seized the initiative in this incident.
But seizing the initiative didn't mean they entered the sword tomb alone.
They could charge in first, but that also meant suffering the heaviest casualties.
Even though it was a sword tomb crafted by a monk, it was riddled with vicious mechanisms and traps.
Yet nothing remained inside.
Well, something did remain.
The corpse—presumed to be that of the Blood Sword High Monk, seated in lotus position as if having entered nirvana.
The furious intruders had torn the place apart, but what good did that do if there was nothing to find?
In any case, it must have driven the Murim Alliance mad with rage.
They took the worst losses but gained nothing, and now they had to provide the promised compensation to boot.
Come to think of it, there was one silver lining to heading to Gansu Province.
He could witness the Murim Alliance's fury firsthand.
"Eek! Young master! Why the sudden change?"
"Change what?"
"That was a terribly wicked smile just now. Like you were savoring someone else's misfortune with malicious glee..."
How did he know?
This guy sees right through me every time.
"Ahem. Something like that. Don't worry—it's not aimed at you."
"Phew! That's a relief."
"You're my servant to begin with."
The Seo-u Warrior chuckled.
"Anyway, you're saying you'll make it as safe as possible, even if it's dangerous? Understood."
The Yeo Eung-am Warrior continued.
"Our lord isn't the type to dive headfirst into danger anyway."
"The problem is how often danger drags him in."
Everyone nodded at the Yi Pil Warrior's words.
...Yeah, that's the issue.
I wouldn't set foot in Gansu if the Emperor hadn't ordered it.
Then, suddenly, he sensed approaching presences.
Rustle.
It wasn't the aura of unorthodox sects, but running into anyone on a path like this was tense enough.
The so-called righteous factions, leaders of orthodox murim, might not kill casually, but they looked down on merchants even more than the Black Way did.
The figures who soon emerged were...
Hm? Monks?
"Amitabha. Forgive us, benefactors, but might we borrow a bit of fire?"
From the one-armed salute to their robes... they were Shaolin Temple monks.
His group rose, and Eun Seo-ho stepped forward as representative, clasping his hands in greeting.
"We meet the renowned masters of Shaolin. I am Eun Seo-ho, young branch leader of the Eunhae Merchant Group. Meeting like this in the dead of night must be fate, no? Please, take all the fire you need."
The monks' faces lit up, and the apparent leader expressed his gratitude.
"Thank you."
They settled beside his group and kindled their fire from the borrowed embers.
Even in summer, forest nights grew chilly.
The Shaolin group numbered ten in total.
The leader appeared in his fifties, at the peak realm.
The rest were a mix of first-class and second-class warriors.
In other words, all warrior-monks.
Then came a rumble from someone's stomach.
Gurgle.
One monk flushed red, and the one beside him bowed his head deeply.
"I-I'm sorry. It was me..."
"Hm..."
"It's fine."
"No helping it—don't dwell on it."
From the looks of it, they hadn't eaten dinner yet.
Ordinary warriors could catch fish or game like his group, but monks couldn't.
They'd need wild edibles, but foraging this late was tough.
Eun Seo-ho stood and approached them.
"If you don't have provisions, would you like some travel biscuits?"
"Travel biscuits...?"
"Yes. We have more than enough. Palgap!"
At his call, Palgap jumped up, pulled biscuits from a bundle, and distributed one to each monk.
"Just flour dough baked hard—tasteless plain, but toasted over the fire, they're quite savory."
Dried thoroughly for long storage, they were rock-hard even for biscuits.
Still, in these famine years, they were precious rations.
But wary of food from strangers, the monks hesitated.
To ease them, he took a biscuit from the bundle and demonstrated, toasting it over the fire.
"Like this... "
Crack, crunch, crunch.
"And eat it like this."
Seeing him eat, their expressions softened.
"To share such precious food—our deepest thanks."
"How could I ignore fellow travelers in need?"
Though short on food, they had tea; they boiled water in a pot.
Then they lightly toasted and ate the biscuits he'd given.
Crunch, crunch.
Slurp.
Crunch, crunch.
Slurp.
Eun Seo-ho smiled inwardly at the sounds.
They must've been starving.
One who feeds you when you're hungry earns deep gratitude.
Shaolin was the pinnacle of prestigious sects.
They wouldn't ignore a debt like this later.
His group had plenty anyway.
They'd packed as usual, but the quick march thanks to the Lord of the Zhu River had left leftovers.
"Where are you benefactors headed?"
Having shared fire and food, the monks had fully let their guard down and asked.
"To Gansu Province."
"Gansu? If I may ask... why there?"
"My maternal family is in Lanzhou. Haven't visited in ages, and time allowed."
"I see."
"And where might the masters be bound?"
"We head to Yeonji Mountain in Gansu."
"Similar destinations. But why no provision bundles?"
And one more oddity.
From Shaolin, they could've sailed straight to Lanzhou via Luoyang.
Why stop midway here?
"Truth be told, there's a circumstance."
He scratched his neck.
"On the boat, we accidentally dropped our food bundle in the river."
"Oh no!"
"We disembarked to replenish, but... we left the bundle with most of our travel funds aboard."
Talk about compounding disaster.
"Forgive me. Truly, forgive me."
The monk knelt, forehead to the ground in apology.
So he's the one who made that blunder.
Now it made sense why they hadn't eaten till now.
And why they'd devoured those hard biscuits so eagerly.
"Such hardships you've faced."
Eun Seo-ho feigned sympathy while smirking inwardly.
What luck!
Shaolin monks in distress!
Not all Shaolin disciples stayed cloistered forever.
Many descended mountains for various work: opening dojos, bodyguarding, even secular jobs.
Meaning connections across the empire.
And none would defy Shaolin saying, "No thanks" to "Take good care of him."
A debt here would surely aid him and the merchant group later.
They had surplus anyway.
"It seems you're planning to seek aid from a nearby secular sect?"
"Indeed."
"They'd help gladly, but these famine times pinch everyone."
Late July now.
Wheat silos should brim, but poor harvests had left them wanting.
"And borrowing from them preserves Shaolin's dignity, yes?"
"True. But no other options."
"So, masters, might I lend you travel funds?"
"Travel funds?"
"Yes."
He nodded.
"Heard of the Eunhae Merchant Group?"
"Shaolin finds your storm sails quite useful."
They know us.
"We have ample coin. I can spare some."
The monk pondered.
Eun Seo-ho could guess: worry over what a merchant like him might demand later.
"No need to fret. Just send repayment to Shaolin when you return."
"And the interest?"
"No interest."
His suspicion deepened; clearly no pushover.
Hence entrusted with leading disciples to Gansu.
Then a monk ventured cautiously.
"Pardon... but are you the hero of the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament, the Seonhyeopmirang?"
Palgap answered proudly from beside him.
"Yes! Our young master is that Seonhyeopmirang!"
"Ah! As I thought! Your features match the portrait in the book exactly."
Right, that one.
[Thirty-Six Heroes of the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament].
Damn thing has my portrait.
The lead monk's face brightened, nodding vigorously.
"Indeed! The title Seonhyeopmirang proves well-earned."
Thanks for the misunderstanding.
Embarrassing, but this moniker has served me well.
"Very well. We accept the Seonhyeopmirang's offer."
Thus, he lent them travel money and the rest of their biscuits.
They exchanged names; the leader's dharma name was Jeongmyeong.
"Might I ask your purpose in Gansu?"
Jeongmyeong nodded after a moment's thought.
"No secret, so I'll tell you."
The Yeonji Mountain sword tomb was public knowledge now.
The Emperor's secret order to monitor the Gold Guards dispatched there—that was classified.
"Truth is, the sword tomb of High Monk Blood Sword was found on Yeonji Mountain in Gansu."
"What?"
"High Monk Blood Sword's?"
His group looked stunned.
Our feigned ignorance sold well.
"Could we hear more details?"
Jeongmyeong voiced concern.
"Benefactor, you don't plan to go there? It's extremely dangerous now."
"No, I cherish my life too much. A frail mortal like me. Just need the info to warn my family and stay cautious myself."
"In that case... I'll explain."
His account matched what Eun Seo-ho knew.
"High Monk Blood Sword was officially expelled from Shaolin precepts, but if anything of ours remains, we can't let it fall elsewhere."
"Quite right."
As he nodded along, a question arose.
"But wasn't he defiled by blood in his final years? Why still call him 'High Monk'?"
Jeongmyeong replied.
"Officially expelled, yes. But Shaolin folk still honor him as such—for devoting his life to slaying demons."
Something's off.
Blood-soaked or not, he was still revered enough for the title.
Expelled? In his peak years?
Just for blood, not demons or evil?
After a lifetime fighting Heavenly Demon Cultists?
That sparked another doubt.
The sword tomb's mechanisms were too cruel, too ruthless for a Buddhist disciple's work.
Countless lives lost, maimed.
Then a memory flashed: Blood Sword's words when crafting it.
He'd vowed to fight the Heavenly Demon Cult even in death.
What if that vow wasn't mere words—but enacted?
If cultists entered first, they'd bear most casualties.
Blood Sword had arranged his own expulsion as contingency. Shaolin would forfeit claim, protecting his disciples.
But the greedy Murim Alliance ruined his final plan.
Shaolin took the heaviest single-sect losses— a monumental blunder.
"Why the grim face?"
His expression must've darkened; Jeongmyeong tilted his head.
"Ah, sorry. The sword tomb suddenly felt ominous."
"Blood Sword High Monk's?"
"Yes."
"Why do you say that, benefactor?"
A sharp edge to his tone.
Though he'd never met the man, fulfilling his will felt right.
And if it saved lives—repaying his loan manifold.
"Just my speculation—feel free to dismiss it."
Though personally, I'm certain.
Past life's memories plus new info lead here.
He began explaining.
"In my view..."
But midway, Jeongmyeong suddenly knelt before him.
"Amitabha..."
Ah, no—what's this about?