The Shaolin Monk's Ride
While I was teaching Jeon Ho how to drive, I sensed someone approaching from the direction I was facing.
"Who's there?"
"Just an old monk, that's all."
Along with the sound of footsteps, an elderly monk in red robes slowly drew near.
"Grandpa, what brings you here?"
"If we're heading the same way, I thought I might hitch a ride on your carriage."
"Ah, where are you going?"
"Down to Songshan, below Luoyang."
It looked like the temple was built on the mountain, just like any ordinary monastery.
"Jeon Ho, is Songshan far from where we're going?"
"N-no, it's the same direction."
"Really? Then why do you look so nervous?"
"I…"
Jeon Ho glanced at the old monk in front of me before quickly averting his eyes.
"It's nothing…"
"Fine. If it's nothing, we'll see you later."
"Hic…"
Even after getting thoroughly scolded by me, he still kept glancing at the monk.
"Grandpa, hop on."
"Much obliged… but may I ask what this is?"
The monk who had come closer stared at the one-ton cargo truck with its bed in bewilderment.
"It's a carriage that runs without horses."
"……?"
After eyeing the truck with an incredulous look, the monk lightly jumped in place and landed gracefully in the cargo bed.
"So you're a martial artist?"
"Even monks must train in martial arts to protect themselves."
"Protect? More like beat people to death. You like wordplay, don't you, Grandpa?"
"Hoho…"
Bang!
"Guh!"
When Jeon Ho tossed the bound men into the cargo bed, they crashed into the corner. The monk watched the scene in silence before turning his gaze back to me.
"Benefactor, martial arts contain both life and death."
Thud, thud!
When I knocked on the truck, Jeon Ho, who had been sitting in the driver's seat, turned to look at me through the open rear window.
"Everyone's on. Let's go."
"Yes, Miss Han!"
With Jeon Ho's reply, the truck immediately started moving forward. Feeling someone's gaze, I turned my head to find the monk staring straight at me, completely ignoring what Jeon Ho had said.
"Grandpa, mind if I smoke?"
"Go ahead. I'm just hitching a ride, after all."
"Thanks."
—Click, click.
"Huu— So, what's the difference between life and death in martial arts?"
"Life is for saving others, death is for killing. In the end, it all depends on one's mindset, doesn't it?"
"Whether someone dies from a punch or not isn't decided by mindset—it's decided by impact force. Since impact force and momentum are equivalent, it's expressed as force multiplied by time. You learn that in school, right?"
"What in the world are you talking about…"
"It depends on how much force and time you put into the beating."
When I spun my fist in the air, the monk looked at me like I was speaking nonsense.
"By the way, what brought you all the way down here, Grandpa?"
"The young novice monks are ill. I heard there was a skilled physician in Bozhou, so I came down."
"Ah. But since you came back empty-handed, I guess it didn't work out."
"Hoho, that's right."
His laughter wasn't from joy—it was filled with disappointment. The young novices hadn't even received their full ordination yet, so he must have been carrying a lot of worry because of them.
"Songshan means the Shaolin Temple, right?"
"Indeed."
"I have to stop by Shaolin because of my grandmother's request. Want me to take a look at them?"
"You, benefactor? Who is your grandmother that she has connections to Shaolin?"
"My grandmother is…"
"Miss Han!"
Our conversation was cut short by Jeon Ho's voice.
"What?"
"There are people who look like bandits blocking the road ahead."
When I stuck my head out to the side, I saw exactly what Jeon Ho had described—people holding weapons and blocking the path.
"Do bandits these days carry rakes instead of swords?"
"What do you plan to do with them?"
"Worried?"
"I am."
Even though he had learned martial arts, he was full of concern. What a softhearted guy.
"Then I'll use the 'life fist' I learned from you, Grandpa, and beat them without hurting them too much."
"……"
"Haha, Grandpa."
"What is it, benefactor?"
As I slowly stood up, the monk's gaze followed me.
"Punching is just violence that costs one's humanity. Why do you have to dress it up with all that flowery language? Martial artists always go on about how their fists are righteous and all that."
"Amitabha…"
The monk still only showed worry.
"If I beat those guys to death to protect future commoners from being exploited, does that make my fist a 'life fist'?"
"Sophistry."
"Exactly. Punching is full of sophistry to begin with."
While Han Ga-eul was walking toward the bandit group, Jeon Ho got out of the driver's seat and approached the back.
Bang!
Jeon Ho performed a respectful fist salute with enough force to make a loud sound.
"My apologies for the late greeting. This humble one from the martial world greets the great master Hyeneung of Mount Song, the North Star of the martial world!"
"Who might you be?"
"I am Jeon Ho, serving as an inspector for the Martial Alliance."
"The Martial Alliance? Why would an inspector be traveling with that benefactor?"
Both Jeon Ho and Master Hyeneung turned their gazes toward Han Ga-eul, who was walking ahead.
"That person is the Divine Doctor whose name has been spreading like wildfire."
"W-what? She looks barely of age."
"How could I lie to you, Master? I've been serving the Divine Doctor ever since she was in Hefei. I've personally witnessed her treat external injuries, internal injuries, fractures, and even syphilis without hesitation."
"Hoho… Amitabha."
Master Hyeneung, who had been staring at Han Ga-eul, quietly recited a Buddhist chant.
"I couldn't interfere in personal grudges, so I just watched, but… benefactor—no, the Divine Doctor—seems to have quite a fiery temperament."
"She's brutal, yes."
"Hoho."
At Jeon Ho's blunt remark, Master Hyeneung couldn't help but laugh.
"But the Divine Doctor never touches the weak. I don't know everything about her, but she seems to have always been like that."
In the short time Jeon Ho had observed her, the Divine Doctor was a troublemaker, a stubborn mule who didn't understand compromise, and a walking disaster.
"But if she were just brutal, I wouldn't have stayed by her side."
"Then…?"
Master Hyeneung asked with a hint of doubt in his short question.
"I still can't tell if she's good or evil. But she's endlessly gentle to the weak, and merciless to the strong—almost to the point of seeming twisted. That's my humble opinion."
"Someone who can't be judged in black and white?"
"It depends on who’s looking, but the higher someone’s reputation in the world, the darker she’ll appear to them."
"I can't tell just from hearing about it."
At Master Hyeneung's reply, Jeon Ho gave a small nod. Even he, who had been watching her all this time, found it hard to define the Divine Doctor in a single word.
"To some people, she's definitely a good person. To others, she'll be terrifying."
At Jeon Ho's words, Master Hyeneung recalled what he had seen at the inn earlier—the right hand that had turned the young master into mush, and the left hand that had gently stroked the young waiter.
"It seems like both Mara and Buddha coexist within her."
"She's a mess, isn't she?"
"Hoho, truly a mess."
Master Hyeneung leaned his head to the side and looked at Han Ga-eul. There, the Divine Doctor who had left with such murderous words was now comforting the bandits and handing out silver coins.
"Hmm…"
Just as the matter seemed to be wrapping up, the Divine Doctor approached the truck.
"Miss Han, have you finished?"
"Yeah. Take the wheel."
"Yes! I'll take you to Zhengzhou."
Since Jeon Ho had been enjoying driving, his reply was especially energetic.
"No, let's go to Kaifeng."
At the sudden change in destination, Jeon Ho made a dumbfounded face. The Martial Alliance was in Zhengzhou, the great city—not Kaifeng.
"Why all of a sudden…?"
"Jeon Ho, have you heard about the magistrate of Kaifeng?"
For Jeon Ho, an inspector of the Martial Alliance, it was a question that required no thought.
"You mean the corrupt official?"
"Yeah. I heard the people are doing this because of him—they're struggling to make a living. They're so hungry they're eating tree bark and their own flesh, and even selling their children."
"That's not wrong. But that magistrate is cunning and has spread money everywhere, so he's hard to touch."
At Jeon Ho's words, the Divine Doctor made a strange expression.
"And?"
"Huh? Ah, no. If we touch him, every official and sect around will come running. It'll be like poking a hornet's nest."
—Click, click.
"Huu— Let's go quickly, Jeon Ho. I have an incurable disease where I can't stand seeing someone worse than me."
"Benefactor, do you intend to make enemies of the authorities?"
At the Divine Doctor's urging, Jeon Ho, who had been heading back to the driver's seat, glanced at the unconscious martial artists piled in the corner of the truck bed.
"Let's just go."
"Yes, Miss Han."
"Huu— I was planning to visit the imperial court or whatever it's called once this is over anyway."
"Th-the imperial court?"
The relationship between the imperial court and the martial world was awkward. If it came down to individual quality, the martial world had the overwhelming advantage, but no martial artist could ignore the court's hidden strength. The court wasn't without martial artists either—in fact, by using its wealth, it could train large numbers of second- and first-rate martial artists faster than anyone. What the martial world had over the court was only the quality of martial arts built up through long periods of seclusion. It was truly a battle of quality versus quantity.
Furthermore, the martial world had difficulty uniting due to its unique closed nature, while the court had a perfect chain of command—under the emperor's single order, they would charge into a pit of fire. That was why they maintained a distant, indifferent relationship, each ignoring the other. If they clashed, both sides would shed a lot of blood.
The topic that many martial world enthusiasts always talked about was the martial world versus the imperial court. At most, there were dozens, or a few hundred if you included disciples in training. In contrast, the court had an army of a hundred thousand or even a million—completely different scales. That was why most enthusiasts were quick to bet on the court's overwhelming victory.
"Benefactor—no, Divine Doctor—please reconsider. We martial artists don't just sit back and watch the authorities' actions because we like it."
"Jeon Ho must've told you. That blabbermouth. I'm fine."
For a moment, the truck swerved before steadying again.
"Hoho…"
Meanwhile, the truck passed by the bandit group.
"Divine Doctor, do you trust those people?"
"The bandits?"
"Yes. Once you're gone, they might start robbing again."
"Of course I trust them."
Han Ga-eul wore a beautiful smile that anyone could see.
Crack!
"Shadow. Stick with them, and if they do anything stupid, take care of it."
Creak!
In an instant, a playful yet chilling laugh echoed and then vanished.
"Hic! A-Amitabha. What in the world was that…!"
"Neng?"
Master Hyeneung's startled eyes glowed with a piercing blue light.
"What is that bizarre and sinister thing…"
"Huh? It's hard to see someone moving through shadows, but you've got good eyes, Grandpa."
"But you saw something you shouldn't have."
Creak!
***
"Supreme Elder, are you going out?"
"I'm going to catch a runaway colt."
At the words of the Supreme Elder, Blood Demon Hyang Hyang, Sword Demon stroked his white beard.
"A colt? Hmm… Wait?! I'll go too!"
Before Sword Demon could even finish thinking, only one colt came to mind.
"What? I'm going too!"
"Me too!"
"Let's go!"
Spear Demon, Fist Demon, and Poison Demon threw down their cards as if on cue and stood up. The promise they had made with Heavenly Demon was long forgotten in their minds.
"Poison Demon, why is your speech like that?"
"Ga-eul taught me, you idiot."
"Really? Then let's go to the Great War of the Orthodox and Demonic!"
If the Chief Strategist, who was absent due to being busy, had seen this scene, he would have had a fit.