What I Couldn't Pass On (5)
Jinheo thrust out his fist in a concise motion. He wasn't employing any particular martial art, but it was clear from a glance that it concealed an overwhelming power impossible to ignore.
Ilseon Dosa twisted his waist to the right.
Shwick.
The punch, which he couldn't fully evade, grazed past his ear. A bit of blood sprayed into the air. Blood trickling from his ear soaked the Dosa's upper garment.
As if it were nothing, Ilseon Dosa swung his remaining right arm upward.
'!'
His rising right arm abruptly changed direction, blocking his side.
Bam!
Ilseon Dosa's body, barely managing to block Jinso's rising kick, flew endlessly through the air. By the time he began to fall, Jin-gak was already waiting there.
Thud!
With the sound of his foot slamming powerfully into the ground, Jin-gak shot toward Ilseon Dosa like an arrow.
Whirrl!
Ilseon Dosa hurriedly spun his body in midair. As he did, he extended his foot straight toward the incoming Jin-gak.
Crack.
Jin-gak swiftly raised his arm to block, but unable to fully neutralize the force, he was flung backward.
Ilseon Dosa finally planted both feet on the ground. At that moment, Jinso, who had been far off, closed in and thrust out a right fist. Simultaneously, Jinheo from the opposite side threw his right arm in the same form Ilseon Dosa had just used.
Kwachak!
Ilseon Dosa immediately stomped the ground. The earth shattered, sending stone fragments scattering upward.
He thrust his right fist toward Jinheo's incoming right fist. At the same time, he kicked the floating stone fragments with his opposite foot.
Kwajajak.
The stone fragments flew, infused with powerful energy.
"Tahahap!"
Jinso, forced to divert his thrusting fist to block the incoming stones, paused his movement momentarily.
Before Ilseon Dosa's raised foot touched the ground, he lifted his remaining foot once more toward Jinheo.
Pang!
Jinheo, attempting a sneaky ambush, hastily retreated to dodge.
In that brief gap, Ilseon Dosa kicked off the ground, spread his hand wide, and grabbed Jinso's arm.
"Huh?"
Jinso experienced the bizarre sensation of his body lifting off the ground, bound by tremendous gripping strength.
Veins bulged on Ilseon Dosa's lone arm. Then, he hurled Jinso straight at Jinheo, who was flying toward them preparing his next attack.
Suddenly, Jinheo, caught off-guard in an awkward stance, had to catch Jinso.
In that instant, a slight gap opened in their encirclement. Ilseon Dosa's eyes caught the five clustered together and the one separated.
Without hesitation, he kicked off toward the lone one.
There stood Jincheong alone.
I wasn't sure how to describe the scene, but objectively, it felt exactly like this:
'This must be what it looks like when street thugs who stumbled upon some fateful encounter throw down.'
I'd thought that when the golden radiance poured from the bald grandpa monk's body, it would unfold elegant scenes of profound martial exchanges.
Baekbo Singwon clashing with Baekbo Singwon.
Geumgang Budong Sinbeop filling every direction.
Kwabang!
But no, it was just fists smashing into fists.
Thwack! Thwack!
If you only heard the sounds, it'd seem like rural bumpkins brawling wildly.
Though the level of martial arts exchanged was awe-inspiring, it remained simple, brute-force fisticuffs.
Pak!
Uh... that sounded like bones breaking.
One of the first-generation disciples, standing far off alone, clutched his arm and staggered back slightly.
A brief lull fell.
The bald grandpa monk gazed arrogantly at the six men.
Even his state wasn't normal. His body, having taken their extended attacks bare-handed, was swollen in places, with dark bruises visible—some cracked, some broken.
In exchange for those wounds, however, the bald grandpa had seized a new position.
He was no longer encircled. Instead, he faced them head-on.
Ilseon Dosa exhaled a long breath and spoke to Jinheo and his group.
"Monks of Sorimsa are often called by another name on the streets. Do you know it?"
Jinheo didn't hide his frustration at being outmaneuvered and replied.
"Nahansung."
"Kekeke, you know it well."
It wasn't that Ilseon Dosa and Jinheo's group were fools abandoning their profound martial arts for a bare-knuckle brawl.
Nahan. Short for Arhat.
On a grand scale, it means the pinnacle of Buddhism, Buddha himself. On a smaller scale, the path to becoming one.
But unlike other Buddhist sects that seek nirvana through meditation alone, Sorimsa tempers itself endlessly.
Those are the Nahansung.
Like iron hardening with every strike, Nahansung relentlessly train their bodies.
Reciting sutras from scriptures and pursuing truth is fine, but quelling worldly chaos is also a monk's virtue.
Thus Sorimsa was born, and the Nahansung with it.
Ilseon Dosa looked at Jincheong, who hung slightly back.
"Jincheong, you've neglected your training. For your bones to strain from mere clashes like this."
Jincheong furrowed his brow. He wanted to deny it, but truthfully, since taking the Re-kyung Pavilion Master's post, he'd distanced himself from martial arts.
Jinheo didn't blame him. In fact, Sorimsa ran smoothly without issue precisely because Jincheong had focused less on martial arts.
"Your long-winded chatter means you're out of breath?"
I knew exactly why he'd say that.
"Kekeke, caught me? Old age saps the stamina, you see."
I knew that was a blatant lie. His internal energy would be filling the void of any lost stamina.
From their recent clash, his internal energy had only grown, never diminished.
"Now that we've roughly exchanged greetings, let's get serious. At least..."
Jinheo's demeanor shifted as he trailed off.
The atmosphere turned serene, utterly unlike their prior brawl. A clarity like dawn in the mountains emanated from him.
In that moment, Jincheong, who had been slightly swayed by Ilseon Dosa's words, began regulating his breathing again. The others did the same.
Ilseon Dosa proudly regarded his disciple, who had calmed the mood in one go, while staying fully alert.
'Amitabha.'
The real fight was about to begin.
Finally, Jinheo spoke.
"I hope you won't lose the dignity of once being Sorimsa's greatest elder."
If the previous bout was a crude fistfight of flesh against flesh, what followed would clearly be a clash of supreme martial arts grounded in internal energy.
Whirrl!
Jin-gak charged first. The same single fist thrust as before. But it was entirely different.
A serpent yet to ascend to dragonhood. If beasts truly existed in illusions, it'd look just like that.
That's how it appeared to my eyes.
'Sangnyong Domi (Twin Dragons Tail Whip).'
A fist technique evoking a dragon's tail.
The form from Yonggwon, one of Sorimsa's Sorim O-gwon (Shaolin Five Fists).
That was the identity of the martial art Jin-gak was unleashing.
Then?
I shifted my gaze to the other first-generation disciples.
'As expected!'
Excepting the one injured in the arm, each was deploying their arts.
Sorim O-gwon. Yonggwon (Dragon Fist), Hogwon (Tiger Fist), Pygwon (Leopard Fist), Sagwon (Snake Fist), Haggwon (Crane Fist).
Baekhak Ryangsi (White Crane Reveals Wings). An elegant crane's wingbeat descended from above toward Ilseon Dosa. Naturally, the power within could pulverize everything on the ground.
Baeksa Tochsin (White Snake Spits Tongue). From below, a snake flicked its tongue seeking prey and rapidly surged forward.
Geum Pyo Jeongsin (Golden Leopard Fixes Body). A leopard nimbly lunged from behind.
Mangho Sin-yo (Fierce Tiger Stretches Waist). Head-on, a mountain king tiger extended its massive waist.
Attack from all sides. Even for the bald grandpa, this assault seemed inescapable.
Moreover, though one of the six was out, their individual internal energies were tremendous.
'Sorim O-gwon is the simplest among the 72 Arts.'
Thus.
'It can easily produce the greatest power.'
Common knowledge to all.
Taking it further: simplicity means ease, and ease means...
'Unpredictability.'
Complex martial arts are hard to alter mid-form. But simple ones can shift even while executing.
Just look at Samjae Geombeop.
Ah, not dissing you, my lord. You know my heart.
The point: such arts link effortlessly.
One yet not one. A single person's Sorim O-gwon maxes at five forms.
One person, one art.
Two people? Double to 25 forms.
Three: 125.
Four: 625.
Five: 3,125.
In rapid attack-defense exchanges, calculating all 3,125 possibilities is practically impossible.
Perpuk!
Sure enough, at some point their coordination tangled, and the bald grandpa allowed one fist through.
Whirrl!
Before the shock faded, another fist flew in.
Facing five at once was impossible from the start.
Ilseon Dosa's intent had long been conveyed to all Sorimsa disciples.
They witnessed it clearly with their own eyes today, and that resolve would strengthen Sorimsa in the future.
Stopping here would suffice.
But Jinheo showed no such intention.
I frowned, wondering if it had to go this far.
"Amitabha."
Ilseon Dosa murmured a low chant.
Indeed, Sorimsa had grown stronger than in his era.
Jinheo's upright stance entered Ilseon Dosa's eyes. His furrowed brow gradually relaxed.
The reason? Because I was now glaring wide-eyed.
Why? What I'd seen upon first visiting Sorimsa reappeared before me.
A white radiance, similar yet different from Ilseon Dosa's golden light, poured from Jinheo's body.
Baekho (White Tiger). The divine beast nobly guarding Song Mountain's Sorimsa.
It roared. Lowly. Not as sound, but vibration.
The air sank under the weight of his internal energy.
Kugung—
The ground beneath Jinheo caved in. And the vibration quintupled.
The five first-generation disciples understood his intent and acted in unison.
'Senior brother means to end it now.'
Jin-gak nodded. Dragging it out would only show Ilseon Dosa's pathetic side to the juniors.
Better to cleanly defeat him here.
Even if the result looked miserable.
He drew out all five cycles of his internal energy. His body felt ready to burst.
Slacking even slightly risked backlash from his own energy.
Gulk.
Forcing down rising blood, he glanced at his fellow disciples. They looked no different.
Finally, Jinheo thrust his fist.
Tears streamed from I-gwon's eyes.
Not from sadness. He'd simply not blinked once despite the stinging, watching intently.
'I won't miss it!'
The other Sorimsa disciples felt the same. Sorimsa's essence unfolded before them. How could they close their eyes?
As Jinheo's aura shifted and he thrust his fist!
I-gwon inwardly exclaimed in admiration.
'Baekbo Singwon!'
The Baekbo Singwon he'd thrown countless times was now displayed in perfect completion.
I frowned again at the five martial arts closing on Ilseon Dosa.
Baekbo Singwon (Hundred-Step Divine Fist).
Geumryong Sipsu (Golden Dragon Twelve Hands).
Hangma Jin-gyeo (Subduing Demon Leg).
Okgeumji (Jade Golden Finger).
Swajunji (Soul-Shattering Finger).
Each at the pinnacle of Sorimsa's myriad arts.
Still, did it really have to go this far?
Mujikja waited calmly.
—But you, if the disciples form the 108 Nahajin and trap you inside, what then? Even I'd be helpless. Unless using lethal strikes.
—Kekeke, there's one way. No guarantee it'll work, mind you.
—And if it fails?
—Then off to truly study the Buddha way. Apologize to the departed senior brothers and such.
"Muryangsubul."
Ilseon Dosa moved.
Was past Sorimsa weak, thus brutally defeated by the Heavenly Demon?
No.
Past and present Sorimsa were both strong. The difference in their strength's quality wasn't vast.
'Compared to the Heavenly Demon, that is.'
Before overwhelming might, Sorimsa was but fireflies crumbling to dust.
A brilliant golden radiance, utterly different from before, burst from Ilseon Dosa's body.
What he truly wished to show.
I couldn't help shouting.
"Wha! Wha!!! Wh-wh-wh-what!!!"
Everyone looked at me curiously.
That thing!
Sneer.
Namgung Je-cheon smiled.
He knew little of martial arts, but prided his insight as unrivaled under heaven.
It wasn't just for serving as Murim Alliance's strategist that his master Namgung Ilro bore the moniker Manbak (Ten Thousand Thin).
"My old master once said: In ancient times, far ancient, when Sorimsa first drove Ma-gyo to distant Xinjiang in martial history, a radiant light illuminated the world."
It was happening now.
Ilseon Dosa uttered an ancestor's name.
"Dalma."
And then.
"Dalma Yeongeun gyeong, First Form: Wi-ta Heon-geo (Vajra Offers Pestle)."
Jinheo's launched Baekbo Singwon was repelled by Ilseon Dosa's extension.
Second Form: Jeokseong Hwandu (Pluck Star, Swap Dipper). The Baekbo Singwon's energy withered in brighter light.
Third Form: Do-yeok Guu-mi (Uproot Nine Oxen Tails). Geumryong Sipsu slammed into the ground, tails tangling like oxen in chaos.
Fourth Form: Chuljo Ryangsi (Extend Claw, Reveal Wings). Hangma Jin-gyeo's energy was devoured by greater subduing force.
Fifth Form: Gu-gwi Bal-ma-do (Nine Ghosts Draw Horse Blade). Okgeumji shattered like trampled hooves.
Sixth Form: Samban Nakji (Three Coils Ground Slam). Swajunji tore under superior power.
Seventh Form: Cheongryong Tamjo (Azure Dragon Probes Claw).
Ilseon Dosa didn't stop.
Eighth Form: Wa-ho Bak-sik (Crouching Tiger Pounces Prey).
It was a dance, forms, legend reborn.
Ninth Form: Ta-gung-se (Bow Stance).
And the ceaseless motions of Ilseon Dosa slowed gradually.
Tenth Form: Domi-se (Tail Whip Stance).
Finally, complete stillness.
Silence flowed.
The 108 Nahajin had shattered long ago. Those comprising it couldn't believe the sight.
Cough!
As Ilseon Dosa vomited blood, one Sorimsa disciple threw himself to catch his falling body.
No one blamed him. They couldn't.
The long, grueling decade-plus war ended here.
Today, Sorimsa reclaimed Daeseung Beomcheon Banya Simgong and Dalma Yeongeun gyeong.
'Heh heh.'
In the solemn air, I struggled to stifle my leaking grin.
'Yesss! It's a tie!'
Hey hey, bald grandpa, I believed in you! This is our Buddhist style!
Today, I earned 80 nyang in silver.