Off to Shaolin Temple (1)
Before long, the full moon of the eighth lunar month had arrived.
It was the Mid-Autumn Festival, one of the major holidays.
Though the heat still lingered, it signaled that summer's fury would soon break.
This year, too, we'd need to prepare thoroughly for the cold.
Beijing lay north of Hubei, after all, making its winters far harsher.
Of course, its summers were milder by comparison.
That was life—advantages turning to drawbacks, and vice versa.
We headed to a restaurant near the Beijing branch of the Eunhae Merchant Group.
The festival's peak business came in the days leading up to it, so on the actual day, with reports trickling off, it was fine for most of the branch staff to step away.
I'd rented out the top floor of a humble noodle house.
I wanted the Hyeonpungak crew—who'd worked hard in my absence—the branch staff, and my guards to eat comfortably, without restraint.
Sharing the floor with other guests or having servers darting about would stifle conversation.
And our talks revolved around merchant group matters—eavesdroppers would be a problem.
So, the highest floor, all to ourselves, with food served at once.
I could sense anyone approaching with my Super First-rate senses and set up a qi barrier, but it was still a hassle.
Amid the warm, jovial meal, Palgap spoke up.
"It's so nice having everyone out like this, sir."
The others nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. We should do this more often."
"Sounds good, sir!"
I tossed a casual remark at the beaming Palgap.
"Oh, Palgap. Pack our things when we get back."
"Pardon?"
Palgap froze mid-reach for his chopsticks.
"Where to this time, sir?"
"Yeah. Shaolin Temple. Got an invitation."
My guards, unsurprised, stayed calm.
They figured it stemmed from lending money to those Shaolin monks we met en route to Nanjing, plus my insights into Master Heolgong's sword collection being incorporated.
But Seo-u Warrior and Jin Yu Warrior wore faint smiles.
They knew it wasn't just the invitation— it was also Master Heolgong's dying wish, which I now held.
"Shaolin Temple?"
"Did you just say Shaolin?"
The rest of the Hyeonpungak staff gaped in shock.
"Yes."
"And you're going because they invited you?"
"That's right."
They marveled at my reply.
"Incredible, sir!"
"Can we tell the others?"
The invitation was official, so I nodded readily.
"Go ahead."
Seo-hyang Sojeo chimed in from beside me.
"I hear invitations from Shaolin are rare. Truly impressive, Young Master."
"Haha, you're embarrassing me."
"That said, Shaolin doesn't allow women, so I can't join you this time either."
"I'm sorry about that."
She shook her head at my words.
"No need. It's not your fault Shaolin bans women, so don't apologize. Besides, if I handle things here, it'll make your return easier."
"W-well, true."
I couldn't deny the logic.
She laughed lightly.
"So don't worry about me—have a safe trip."
Her words eased my guilt oddly.
Was it the festival's luminous full moon?
Or the rich plum blossom scent wafting from her today?
The next afternoon, I methodically briefed the Hyeonpungak staff on tasks for my absence.
With my frequent trips, Yeo Chang, the deputy branch leader, grinned.
"Don't worry, sir. Safe travels."
"You seem... oddly proud?"
"Spot on. Haha."
His face lit up as he continued.
"An invitation from Shaolin! It's a badge of honor for all of Hyeonpungak."
Fair enough—his reaction wasn't over the top.
Shaolin invitations carried real prestige.
"Young Clan Lord visited this morning. When I mentioned your trip, his usual haughtiness vanished—he turned downright polite."
Young Clan Lord, that martial world enthusiast? His son had joined some sect as a lay disciple, right?
To him, this would seem monumental.
"Felt good?"
"Of course! What did you expect?"
"I'll give you more to brag about."
"Music to my ears, sir."
Yeo Chang had grown bolder since we met.
As the first man I'd revived in this life, he held a special place.
Live long and stay by my side.
The evening before departing for Shaolin, Jin Yeong Daehyeop visited my quarters.
"Got your letter. Invited to Shaolin, eh?"
"Yes."
Shaolin was a major player in the martial world.
Considering that, I'd informed Jin Yeong Daehyeop in advance.
My trip would reach the Gold Guard and East Depot anyway, and thus the Emperor.
But with imperial-martial alliance ties, reporting first avoided issues.
His Majesty trusted me and was magnanimous, but a single rift could fester.
Once he soured, it lingered.
Jin Yeong Daehyeop eyed me steadily.
"Recovered so soon, and off again?"
There was bite in his words.
"I want to rest, but the world won't let me."
"Wise answer."
He chuckled dryly.
"Glad you're better, though. Otherwise, His Majesty would've sent the royal physician for real."
"..."
Sending the royal physician was the Emperor's ultimate gesture.
The Crown Prince's warning had been no joke.
Good thing I timed the feigned illness right.
"Anyway, His Majesty and the Crown Prince bid you safe travels."
"Express my deepest gratitude."
"Will do. Oh, one more thing."
"Listening."
"That red cloth you got as reward—it's called Hyeonrodo."
"Pardon?"
"Not just any cloth. An artifact."
"...Had no idea."
He chided me, incredulous.
"Wipe that smirk off your face."
"Haha, that obvious?"
"Congrats anyway. Holding an imperial artifact! Luck or skill?"
"Pure luck. His Majesty favors me, that's all."
I played humble.
Self-praise felt awkward.
"Cheeky. Here's how to use Hyeonrodo."
He explained the cloth artifact's functions.
I hadn't known it doubled as protective gear.
Nice.
After checking my palace martial arts progress, he praised me and left.
The next day, as I emerged with my carriage, I gazed at the sky.
Post-festival, it stretched high and blue.
"All set, sir."
At Palgap's words, I looked down. He and the guards stood ready.
"Let's go."
"Yes, sir."
We mounted up, waving off Seo-hyang Sojeo and the Hyeonpungak crew as we set off for Shaolin Temple.
Shaolin lay in Mount Song.
Routes from Beijing varied, but I had Hyeonrodo.
It pointed the optimal path—not shortest, but safest.
This time: Beijing to Hebei, then Shandong, cross the river, skirt south along it.
I was stunned.
Normally, via Luoyang—fastest, easiest, safest.
Makes sense: Murim Alliance headquarters.
Yet it skipped Luoyang.
Tailored to my situation, indeed.
His Majesty must regret handing it over.
Shaolin offered escorts, but I politely declined.
They'd slow us down.
Comfortable, sure—but I was busy.
Jukangma made all the difference.
We headed straight for Shandong.
Jinan for ferries, but with Jukangma, no need.
Straight-line it was; Hyeonrodo agreed.
We swiftly left Beijing for Hebei Province.
Peng Gang-un of the Hebei Peng Clan crossed my mind.
One of my planted connections.
His request lingered: find his father.
Without the Peng Clan's knowledge.
No deadline, so I'd accepted.
Wonder if Young Master Peng—no, Clan Heir Peng—is faring well.
Dusk fell; we prepped camp.
Fire lit, mountain game hunted and dressed—soon we sat to eat.
"Deer is usually tough, but Palgap's is so tender."
Chang-un Warrior's praise drew nods. Even I agreed.
"How do you do it?"
Palgap grinned sheepishly.
"This is the secret, sir."
He pulled a hammer from his pack.
"This?"
I inspected it, noting oddities.
"Grid pattern on the head?"
"Yes, sir."
"And blunt spikes here..."
I Pil Warrior asked,
"A weapon? That'd hurt."
Palgap shook his head.
"Not for fighting—for tenderizing meat, sir."
"With this?"
"Yes. Breaks tendons; grids soften fibers. Pounding with a knife back's too tedious."
"That thumping earlier. Never seen one before."
"Made it myself, sir. To treat you to good meat. Named it the Meat Hammer."
"Thanks."
For me alone, he'd crafted it.
Many loved meat, but kids or elders struggled with toughness.
Marinades helped, but not always.
This hammer? Tender anytime.
Sell it?
Then, from my sleeve, Gold Spirit chirped.
"Kkwi!"
Ah... it approves for profit.
"Palgap, let's sell it."
"Sir?"
"You invented it—half the shares for you."
He scratched his neck.
"Not worried about selling, but... am I truly first?"
"Ideas are universal. Execution matters."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"Half? Worth being your servant, sir."
"Huh?"
"You said three-tenths max for inventors, covering costs."
"Right. So serve well."
He laughed.
"Wow, am I rich now?"
"Probably."
I Pil Warrior teased,
"Rich Palgap quits being a servant?"
Palgap sobered.
"Why would I?"
"...?"
"I swore to heaven and earth—never quit Young Master's service."
His words stung my nose.
Palgap...
"No sweeter gig than Young Master's servant."
"...Yeah?"
"Even in death, sir."
Palgap, the mood was perfect—did you have to say that?
And... tone down the afterlife stalking.
Paradise awaits the dead—not tailing me.