This Taste Is That Taste (2)
Jinheo's gaze turned toward the young man who had revealed his face. His massive build and eloquent speech were at odds with the boyish innocence still lingering on his features.
Who is he?
He racked his brains, but nothing came to mind.
Then—
"Ah!"
Someone from behind exclaimed in recognition. When he turned, Shaolin's Mugakju, Mukhu, was staring intently at the young man. The other monk brothers, like Jinheo himself, seemed equally clueless. Naturally, all eyes turned to Mukhu.
"I heard about it from a disciple who was out on an excursion. Something big happened at the Namgung Clan recently."
At that—
"Then that young man is...!"
"I see! I've heard about it too."
A few chimed in, pretending to know.
Jinheo didn't even need to hear Mukhu out. He turned back to the young man. This was the one connected to the recent uproar in the Namgung Clan—and by extension, the entire martial world. The culprit who had smashed the deputy commander's head and gotten away with it, yet still just a kid. There was only one who fit the bill.
Namgung Daeso.
"So you're the youngest young master of the Namgung Clan."
Suddenly, it all made sense. How he knew the inner workings of Shaolin so intimately, as if peering right into their hearts.
Damn that blabbermouth old fart.
The exposed situation left him with few choices.
What should I do?
In that brief moment, he plunged into profound deliberation.
Then greed flickered in Jinheo's eyes.
This was the heart of Shaolin Temple. They seemed to have come alone, just the two of them.
No other presences. Should I subdue him and take it?
But what came after?
I can't handle that.
It was the worst option from the start. Just a fleeting greedy impulse anyone might entertain. Jinheo had no real intention of acting on it.
Finally, he looked at Namgung Daeso. No matter how he sliced it, the one holding the reins right now was this youngest young master of the Namgung Clan.
"Have you made your decision?"
"Did you wait for me to sort it out on purpose?"
I shrugged and replied.
"Of course. This isn't coercion, after all."
Simply put, this was a deal. Between me and Shaolin alone. I'd give them real combat experience. They'd give me the Daeseung Beomcheon Banya Simgong. Each getting what we wanted.
"What if I refuse? What then?"
Uh...
No way that'd happen. I'd hooked him with bait he couldn't possibly spit out.
"You don't want the Daeseung Beomcheon Banya Simgong?"
"I do. Even now, I can't tear my eyes from that book. This must be my true heart speaking."
Just looking at it stirred insatiable desire. If his cultivation were any shallower, he'd have shamelessly shown it.
Suddenly, Jinheo laughed. His expression looked like that of one who had transcended all worldly attachments.
I couldn't comprehend it. If he wanted it, he should just take it. Hadn't I laid the table?
I could see him struggling to tear his gaze from the book. I watched him with puzzled eyes.
Then he glanced back at his worried monk brothers and beyond them, taking in all of Shaolin Temple at once.
He turned to me again. But different now...
"I am the abbot of Shaolin. Do you know what that means?"
His eyes were calm. Unfathomable.
"......"
"No need to force an answer—I'm not expecting one. You wouldn't understand yet anyway. What I mean is, I must bear responsibility."
Either way, Jinheo had been played by my scheme. Even pouring in all of Shaolin and its lay affiliates' funds.
Greed, that's what it was.
He'd just realized he'd overlooked something crucial because of it. What made Shaolin Shaolin.
In that instant, something no one here could have predicted happened.
Is the position that important?
People say position shapes the man. But it could also mean position devours the man.
The position of Shaolin abbot. Far from insignificant.
A thousand years of history. Far from short.
The urgency to reconnect the lineage broken by the Namgung Clan had bred impatience, leading to this mess. If only he'd stayed calmer then.
Futile regret.
Roll, roll, roll, roll.
Jinheo snapped the prayer beads he always wore around his neck.
I stared at him in shock. And someone was even more stunned.
Ilseon Dosa, who had sneaked in upon arriving at Shaolin and hidden to observe, stomped forward to intervene. But he couldn't advance.
Someone was holding him back.
Prurr.
The tree shook, but luckily, no one noticed us.
Mujikja gripped his arm and said, "Calm down. If you go out now, it'll only complicate things!"
"But! Didn't you see? That damned disciple cutting his own beads!"
The meaning was singular.
Breaking precepts.
"I saw! That's why I'm stopping you!"
"Then let go! I have to go now."
Ilseon Dosa gathered his qi. Against that, even Mujikja couldn't hold him.
That was when—
-Wait just a moment.
Namgung Daeso's transmission reached him.
-If I fail, then step in. That's an order.
* * *
Jinheo was more than I'd bargained for. I figured he'd pretend to lose and back off. But instead of biting the bait and getting reeled in...
He chose to snap the line with the hook in his mouth, even if it tore his flesh.
And dove into the abyss with it.
Now, no one here could show greed for the Daeseung Beomcheon Banya Simgong. It would tarnish his resolve.
To think he'd strip himself of the abbot's position...
Was this his answer to the weight of being Shaolin's abbot? I wasn't sure yet. But one thing was clear: this decision hadn't come easy.
I glanced sidelong at the bushes. Ilseon Dosa's agitation had nearly given us away, but the Shaolin warrior monks behind were just as shaken.
"S-Senior Brother? What are you doing?"
"This wasn't just your decision. We all agreed, didn't we? Why take all the blame alone?"
Everything Shaolin had become was thanks to Jinheo's sacrifices and efforts.
"So what if we got duped? So what if we lose the Daeseung Beomcheon Banya Simgong?"
"Senior Brother! Come back!"
"We didn't agree to this!"
Jinheo smiled at his concerned brothers and the temple they'd always guarded, then turned back.
And once more, I was stunned.
The man...
He'd changed.
Precisely, Jinheo was the same. He'd merely shed the shackles binding him.
That alone transformed how he appeared to me. His eyes turned toward me—not the deep gaze of a Shaolin abbot, but sharp, feral, like a beast's.
In my eyes, he looked different. White fur whipped in the wind. The raw scent of a wild animal filled my nostrils.
The house-sized beast gazed down at me with the world's most serene expression.
Thud.
It took a massive step toward me.
Gulp.
I swallowed hard, barely stopping my foot from retreating.
Before me stood a single...
White Tiger. The divine beast said to guard its mountain forever, the master of these peaks.
I closed my eyes and opened them. The tiger was gone, but that aura lingered.
The previous form felt more natural now. It was as if the tiger had become human, or the human the tiger—or the two had fused inseparably.
"Now I am no longer Shaolin's abbot, but a mere martial artist of the world."
Reclaimed freedom let him stretch wide. A fierce wind blew just then, feeling like the tiger's paw sweeping the air.
And he said,
"How about a deal with me?"
"Five hundred thousand nyang in silver?"
"Yes. Though I can't pay right now."
"What makes me trust you with this?"
He flashed a bright smile and turned back.
"I'll handle the deal for you. With Shaolin directly. Whatever you want, I'll make it happen."
"I see."
In that moment, I understood what this monk intended.
This guy truly loves Shaolin.
It was about legitimacy. For that alone, he'd thrown everything away.
Now, I couldn't even talk to anyone in Shaolin without going through him. Refuse this, and I'd make enemies of them forever.
With one decision.
The board has flipped.
Now I was the one who had to bite.
Could I make the same choice as him in this spot? Turn an utterly disadvantageous, no-escape situation into a new one by throwing myself in?
Me...
Like him? I shook my head.
I couldn't.
If I could, I wouldn't be flailing like this—I'd have bolted from the Namgung Clan headlong, consequences be damned.
Bitterness welled up. Making him loom even larger in my eyes.
I'd thought the Namgung Clan was the whole world. Heaven itself. No need to look elsewhere.
I looked up at the sky. Different from the one I'd seen from Namgung.
"Fine. Let's deal."
The well's edge is narrow, they say. Spot on.
"Heh heh heh, trust in me alone."
The deal was struck.
* * *
And now, this situation.
I turned to the side with a dumbfounded look. The talks went smoothly, at least, and we'd entered Shaolin safely.
The abbot's quarters.
Jinheo sat beside me, beaming benevolently like nothing was amiss. As my proxy for the deal, he'd become my agent.
Fine, up to there made sense.
I turned to the opposite side. Ilseon Dosa sat there, looking displeased.
Why'd you show up? I had it handled!
I'm your agent too. Didn't you know?
Sigh...
Damn agents...
Behind me sat Namgung Je-cheon and Mujikja.
Finally, Shaolin's new abbot entered, looking utterly dazed. No wonder. Suddenly thrust into the role—and before him...
The Namgung Clan's youngest young master, me, front and center.
To my left, the former-former abbot, Ilseon Dosa.
To my right, the former abbot, Jinheo Dasa.
And behind me, the Sword Venerable and the madman.
Jinheo shot Ilseon Dosa a fierce glare, then turned to the new abbot, Jingak.
"Do it!"
"......"
"Let them have their spar. But add one condition."
"......"
"I need to smash that damned old coot's daegari to feel better!"
"......"
"Why no answer?!"
"Um... Senior Brother?"
"Hey! I'm not your senior brother anymore!"
No, your tone is exactly like a senior brother's! If that's the case, just keep doing it yourself!