Off to Shaolin (5)
Another emergency meeting was underway at Sorimsa.
Two manuals lay before Jinheo, and everyone in the room had already examined them. And the conclusion they'd reached was...
"Sorimsa's Ten Absolutes have reappeared in the world."
"But isn't this all too coincidental? It feels like someone's orchestrated the whole thing."
Jingak, the head of the Scripture Repository Pavilion, had to agree with Jinheo—it really seemed like the heavens themselves were aiding Sorimsa. But in this world, one coincidence might happen, yet never two or three in a row. No matter how you looked at it, this screamed deliberate planning.
Eight volumes surfacing all at once! There were five black markets in Henan Province. They'd secured two from one, leaving four more.
Jinheo spoke gravely. "Exactly. That's what I think too. But..."
Everyone knew what went unsaid.
"Even if it's someone's scheme, what choice do we have?"
Returning what belonged to Sorimsa. And these two volumes already reclaimed were genuine.
"Isn't this action benefiting Sorimsa right now?"
Above all, that was why no one here dared speak rashly. If malice or enmity had been involved, Sorimsa wouldn't have touched them even if all Ten Absolutes were authentic—it would harm the temple.
"We have no choice but to buy the rest. The price isn't even that high compared to their value!"
Jinheo shouted at Jingak.
Jingak closed his eyes, deep in thought. He alone hesitated amid general agreement.
No matter how he pondered, he couldn't rule out a trap. Each manual cost 50,000 silver taels. Expensive. But as martial manuals promising at least the Super Peak realm, 50,000 taels was a steal.
The source of Jingak's unease was precisely that 50,000-tael figure.
Too coincidental.
Sorimsa held 300,000 silver taels. They'd just spent 100,000, leaving 200,000. Per Jinheo, acquiring the remaining eight required 400,000 taels. Borrowing 200,000 from moneylenders was hefty, but this was Henan. Most lay disciples gathered here. With their aid...
It's feasible.
The problem? It fit perfectly.
Jingak's calculations showed lay disciples could muster exactly 200,000 taels max.
Truly coincidental.
It was as if someone knew Sorimsa's absolute limit and tailored it precisely. No other explanation fit.
Yet imagining someone plotting this was absurd. They'd need intimate knowledge of Sorimsa's finances—and every lay sect's. Only he, as treasurer, knew such details.
* * *
Ilseon Dosa chanted Amitabha repeatedly, guilt weighing on him.
"Amitabha. Is it right for me to do this?"
The man who knew Sorimsa better than anyone in the Central Plains or beyond. Simple reason: former abbot.
He even knew every revealed and hidden lay sect intimately. Again, former abbot.
"Tsk tsk, still fretting like a miser?"
Mujikja plopped down beside him. Ilseon Dosa, seated in meditation, turned to him. He was grinning.
Damn bastard. Not his problem.
"It's just taking a bit of money. Our young lord isn't a villain, and Sorimsa will just... sweat a little over it. So what? In the end, it all returns as you wished, right?"
He had a lifelong dream. He'd even lost an arm for it, but failed.
Namgung Daeso and Namgung Je-cheon had just left the inn. Time for Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja to move as planned.
"Come on, let's go."
"Heh heh heh, now that's more like you. Life's nothing much. Even if you can't eat it, you go anyway."
Ilseon Dosa glared at Mujikja.
"What would you do?"
An out-of-left-field question. But Mujikja understood the sentiment.
His answer was one. At this point, choice made.
Even his martial arts stripped away. His heart stolen—no turning back.
"I'd ask them to watch closely. Kindly spare Wudang, at least."
"Right?"
"Of course."
Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja left the inn, heading for Sorimsa.
* * *
I ascended the mountain's foothills leisurely with Je-cheon.
"The air's great here. Maybe I'll buy a mountain like this later and build a house."
Je-cheon's eyes sparkled. This guy's thoughts lately were utterly unpredictable.
"As expected of the youngest young master. Thinking of tearing down Sorimsa to build a house on its ruins."
I hadn't thought that at all. I quickly changed the subject before his eyes rolled back.
"Looks like they've decided?"
Dozens of Sorimsa disciples descended the mountain in unison. Je-cheon and I blended into the pilgrims, stepping aside.
"Probably."
"Alright! Shall we head back up?"
"But young master, I've been thinking—a house on a mountain seems off."
"Why? The air's fresh, scenery perfect."
I shifted from the mountain view to Namgung Je-cheon.
"Me, huff huff! I'm a flatland guy!"
Namgung Je-cheon looked ready to die. Why were these slopes so steep? Oak Mountain earned its name through brutal experience.
"Tsk tsk, told you to exercise earlier."
"Why should I exercise? I'm a brain guy!"
"Not anymore? Ihyang sis took it all."
"......"
Nothing to say? Namgung Je-cheon glared.
* * *
Jingak made his decision.
"Very well. Let's throw open the vaults today!"
Jinheo's orders followed, and Sorimsa disciples raced off with his personally penned letters to lay disciples in Henan.
The lay disciples startled twice: at the main sect's sudden visit, then their cash demand.
But refusal wasn't an option. The letters bore the abbot's seal.
"Don't worry. Once the temple's affairs improve, we'll repay. Can't explain now due to circumstances, but we'll reveal all when sorted."
"No, sir. We survive thanks to Sorimsa's steadfast backing. How much do you need?"
"Not much. We're just borrowing from you in our urgent hour."
"Yes, sir."
Why the suspense? The lay disciple fretted.
"Ten thousand silver taels. Exactly that. We'll repay every bit. We're not deadbeats, are we?"
True. Not deadbeats. But ten thousand taels wasn't pocket change...
"Hurry! Time's short."
This unfolded across twenty sites in Henan.
* * *
I pushed Je-cheon up from behind.
"Told you to wait at the inn."
"Huff huff! Seeing that prideful monk's face crumple... huff huff! I had to witness it myself... huff huff!"
Whatever. Just accept it. Man, he's heavy. Ditch him?
"Youngest young master! Don't you dare abandon me!"
His instincts were demonic.
"You know I can't even if I wanted."
"Huff huff!! Just in case, I had to say it."
I ascended Sorimsa deliberately slowly. Then—
Commotion from below. Pilgrims parted again. I yanked Namgung Je-cheon aside.
Thud thud thud thud thud!
Numerous Sorimsa disciples flew up using lightness skill, clutching precious bundles—unlike their empty descent earlier.
My eyes gleamed. Je-cheon raged at my pull.
"Argh, damn! Nearly tripped!"
Yeah, eyes on the ground—you wouldn't notice.
Back home, I'd teach Namgung Je-cheon martial arts for sure.
"Hug or piggyback?"
"Proposing marriage? I'm loyal to Ihyang sis."
Who approved you?
"Monks went up. We should hurry."
"Then let's go. I'll hug."
"Piggyback's comfier."
"Why ask then?"
Courtesy?
"Piggyback! Gotta climb fast now."
"......"
I glanced at the dense thicket. Ilseon Dosa and Mujikja arrived perfectly, nodded, and vanished—to reach Sorimsa first.
* * *
Jinheo and senior disciples waited at the gate again. Disciples swarmed up, handing over eight manuals total.
Jinheo's hands trembled receiving them. His face beamed with overwhelming emotion.
He skimmed them swiftly, passed to seniors. They to their juniors.
After a moment, Jinheo spoke.
"Amitabha. They're real. Good work."
Even initially reluctant Jingak now wore an ecstatic expression. Imagining Sorimsa's Ten Absolutes revived after decades—it was impossible not to thrill.
Everyone felt it.
"Well done. Things will get busier."
Select new wielders, train them. In two years, at the Four Young Kings Tournament, proclaim their perfect revival to all Murim.
Then—
Two pilgrims entering with clasped hands lingered, staring openly.
New visitors sometimes missed the path.
"Argh, sweat all over my back!"
"Told you to hug."
"Can't—holding books upfront!"
"Fair point."
Two young men(?). One's sturdy build hinted at martial training; the other's slight pudge suggested none. Deep bamboo hats hid faces.
Jinheo approached. "Amitabha. Pilgrims use the side gate. This is for monks."
The younger-seeming spoke. "Perfect—we're here to see the abbot."
"Patron, the abbot's advanced in years? What business with me?"
Another sect, and they'd eject him.
"I have a proposal for the abbot."
Jinheo eyed the young patron irritably. He yearned to study the manuals closely.
"Haha, patron. I'm busy now. Tell these others. I must go."
"This'll change your mind~"
I pulled a manual from my bosom.
"Five hundred thousand silver taels. Buy?"
Jinheo's eyes widened. The eight precious volumes tumbled from his arms.
Waiting monks scooped them up swiftly, shooting Jinheo resentful glares as a bonus.
But his reaction was natural.
"N-No way!"
Jinheo stared at the youth's manual.
Daeseung Beomcheon Banya Simgong (Great Victory Brahma Prajna Heart Method).
Sorimsa's pinnacle art, rivaling Damo's Marrow Cleansing Scripture and Washing Face Scripture—crafted by his first direct disciple!
And the culprit behind Ilseon Dosa's indelible humiliation to Sorimsa!
It lay before him.
I grinned. Halfway there.
He'd bitten. Sorimsa's biggest fish.