A cool twilight veil descended upon the mountain.
They were near Taiyuan, in Shanxi Province. Amidst their encirclement of one of Sim Mu-ryeon’s Martial Lords, Jeong Yeon-shin, Great Master Wonjeok, Gun Yu-rin, and Jeon Baek encountered an issue.
It was about how to deal with Bi-ik Bloodlord.
Great Master Wonjeok was the first to consult Ma Gwang-ik, asking, "May this humble monk spare this one?"
Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated.
Their opponent was a killer. A man whose cruelty was evident.
Jeong Yeon-shin had always dealt death to such men.
The sole exception had been Cheonggirin Namgung Se-jin, and perhaps that was why his dreams remained restless.
If he willed it, he could manifest the Imperial Sword Form even now.
"I'm not saying he should be healed. Merely that he should not be killed. This bald bastard is a hypocrite to begin with—it's enough for him to keep breathing on this earth while being removed from his place."
Great Master Wonjeok spoke.
Shaolin held the precept of non-killing. Even as a sect within the martial world, it forbade murder.
That was the nature of Buddhist temples.
The moment a monk took a life, he became a fallen monk.
That was why Shaolin had developed its bare-handed martial arts, its staff techniques, and other defensive arts.
Even when the Yuan Dynasty invaded these lands, this principle had never been broken.
The birthplace of martial arts on the continent was Mount Song. One could call it the martial world itself. The philosophy of Shaolin had been passed down unbroken through the ages.
Even the notoriously ruthless Namgung’s Greatest Sword had never forced a Shaolin monk to kill.
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Not when he had been part of the Namgung Clan.
Not even when he erased his name from the family registry and joined the Thirteen Heavens’ Martial Dragon Society.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his mouth. Below, Bi-ik Bloodlord, bruised black and blue, glared up at him with venom in his eyes.
"Living as a commoner will be painful."
The marks of Buddhist asceticism on Great Master Wonjeok’s forehead shifted slightly.
"A commoner, you say?"
"His dantian and meridians must be destroyed. There must be no future troubles."
Hah...
A sigh escaped the monk’s lips.
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had spoken his ruling as Ma Gwang-ik without a second thought, instinctively tensed.
There was no time in history when Shaolin’s reputation had been higher than now.
No one in the world would want to be on bad terms with a high monk of Shaolin.
Especially if one had grown up in Henan, idolizing the Hundred-Step Divine Fist game as a child.
‘Am I truly cold and ruthless?’
It was the same as when he dealt with his niece, Hye-a. He was about to reflect on this thought when—
"How benevolent."
"...What?"
"People call you the reincarnation of Nezha, but you do indeed have great compassion for the people."
Great Master Wonjeok laughed heartily.
His monk’s gaze carried something akin to indulgence. It felt as if his eyes were ruffling Jeong Yeon-shin’s hair.
"Considering what this man did in the martial world to earn the name Bi-ik Bloodlord... this much is necessary. It did not even cross my mind. Even the most common solutions, when applied at the right time, become brilliant strategies."
"I see."
Jeong Yeon-shin straightened his shoulders.
Gun Yu-rin, who had been watching the exchange in a daze, hurriedly opened her mouth.
"Wait, wait. You're letting this bastard live?"
"He’s a monstrous criminal! His poison seeps into the heavens! Who knows what means he’ll use to grow stronger again...!"
Jeon Baek, standing behind her, clutched his throat.
They had dealt with Bi-ik Bloodlord longer than anyone else here.
They had witnessed his nature, his potential, the merit he had accumulated to rise to the rank of one of Sim Mu-ryeon’s Three Martial Lords. Their unease was crushing.
Bi-ik Bloodlord’s lips twisted into a trembling smirk.
"Ipwang Fortress, Shaolin. How merciful indeed. One day... I shall master the Upper Dantian Sword Art... and I shall return the favor. To you, and to the Lady as well."
His voice was sharp as a blade.
He was a swordsman who had made his name known across the world. A Grandmaster who had unified Sim Mu-ryeon’s highest sword techniques into his dual-blade style. His boast about his swordsmanship did not sound like empty words.
Gun Yu-rin, caught between powerful figures and biting her lower lip, suddenly had a glint in her eyes.
At that moment—
Five flashes of hazy ochre light flickered in the air, followed by a dull, belated thud.
The sound of flesh bursting.
A beat later, Bi-ik Bloodlord let out a delayed groan.
"Kraaagh—!"
His limbs convulsed violently.
Bruises bloomed across his arms and legs, and his abdomen caved inward. A faint gust of wind spread outward.
It was the energy wave of his dantian rupturing—so vast that even the surrounding brush swayed ceaselessly.
A wooden staff, wielded like an iron cudgel. Great Master Wonjeok had struck it vertically into the ground.
Boom!
A punishment given to Shaolin’s excommunicated disciples.
A staff technique infused with the Full Weight Suppression Method.
His limbs had been utterly shattered, his dantian obliterated. It had all happened in an instant.
Great Master Wonjeok, having delivered such a ruthless blow, did not spare Bi-ik Bloodlord another glance.
Instead, the eminent monk’s gaze remained fixed on Ma Gwang-ik. Unlike when he had swung his staff at Bi-ik Bloodlord, his eyes now shone with immense warmth.
"Earlier, you matched my steps with a miraculous gait. The traces of divine power were thick in your movements... Indeed, Benefactor, you were born with the bones of an immortal and possess the heart of a Buddha. In all your deeds, the spirit of the Dharma Protector Nezha shines through."
The tone of one of Shaolin’s Four Diamond Guardians had softened considerably.
His deep blue eyes glowed with clarity.
"Hah."
Gun Yu-rin, who had been holding her breath among these absolute warriors, took a step back, her face drained.
The high monk before her was said to be a monster who had spent a hundred years in meditative seclusion.
There was no way he was sane.
The gleam in the eyes of that strikingly handsome monk looked bizarre, as if some kind of illusion had taken hold of him.
"When Emperor Wu of the Liang Dynasty sought to argue with Bodhidharma, the sage crossed the river on a single reed to avoid conflict. That parable, 'Crossing the River on a Reed,' became a guiding principle in the Preservation Sutra. The bodily cultivation methods he devised for longevity were passed down as the Tendon Transformation Classic and the Marrow Cleansing Classic."
Great Master Wonjeok smiled.
"It is widely rumored that Ma Gwang-ik, when responding to battle, surrounds himself with lotus flowers to intimidate his foes. The steps you showed me today may very well be remembered as the Nezha's Lotus Steps of the Western Pure Land."
It was a reference to the Buddhist afterlife.
The Lotus Platform was the seat a practitioner would sit upon after death. The full name was the Nine-Grade Lotus Platform.
It was said to be made of nine lotus blossoms.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips twitched, but he said nothing.
Instead, he thought.
Is this really alright?
No matter what he said or did, he earned favor.
He wondered if this was what would happen if his maternal grandfather and the Seventh Apostle’s temperament were mixed together. But then, realizing it was an unfit thought to have about a Shaolin high monk, he inwardly chastised himself.
"You wretched Jeong Yeon-shin, how disgracefully wicked you are..."
That was why one of Shaolin’s Four Diamond Guardians had so readily accepted his Shanxi moniker.
It was akin to an ancient immortal of the Mount Hua Sect bestowing an honorary plum blossom title.
"Such words are difficult to bear. Recently, I have come to hold great reverence for Grandmaster Bodhidharma."
There was sincerity in Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice. The resonance he had felt with Shaolin’s founder had been that profound.
At that moment, as Ma Gwang-ik, he felt as if he were a castaway who had finally encountered another human being in the wilderness of an alien jungle.
"Excellent, truly excellent!"
Great Master Wonjeok exclaimed in archaic phrasing.
A grandmaster who had opened his Upper Dantian was hypersensitive to the nuances in one’s demeanor.
He was a master at discerning truth from falsehood, at reading the depths of emotions, and at countering his opponent’s intentions.
His lips stretched wide into a broad smile.
"I must offer you a gift."
"A gift, you say?"
"I actually brought a disciple with me, but the child’s gait is terribly slow, so we were separated along the way. This foolish monk does not like carrying burdens, so the Pure Essence Pill I received from the monastery’s Medicine King Hall is with that child."
Indeed, he carried nothing but his wooden staff.
No bowl for alms. No sleeping mat.
"Master...?"
Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened.
Would he be able to treat his internal injuries before even returning to Ipwang Fortress?
The Pure Essence Pill of Shaolin.
An ancient medicine infused with the noble secrets of Shaolin’s Medicine King Hall.
He had taken one before.
It was right before Ma Gwang-ik, Myeolseom Corps, and the Changcheon Corps had gathered to strike the Hwangbo Clan.
The moment he consumed it, the energy in his body had restored itself instantly. He vividly recalled the sensation of the precious medicine coursing through his system.
"However, given your current state, I hesitate to leave you alone... Finding my disciple may take quite some time."
"Compared to the master’s kindness, a long wait is nothing."
Jeong Yeon-shin answered calmly.
Suddenly, thoughts of Hyeon Won-chang, Tae Yeom-ryong, and Shin So-bin flashed through his mind.
How could he refuse?
His comrades would likely berate him for even considering it. The commander’s well-being comes first, they would say.
And there was also Great Master Wonjeok’s absence to consider.
Would Ipwang Fortress’ Black Sect really lean on one of Shaolin’s Four Diamond Guardians?
It was absurd, no matter how one looked at it.
Besides, he no longer felt a looming threat from the Execution Hall or the Mo Yong Clan.
Ever since he had slain the Zhuge Clan Leader, a strange feeling had settled over him—an eerie certainty that everything would work out somehow.
Even now, the image of a sword flickered in his mind.
The Northern Bright Sword at his waist whispered to him.
Let’s go see our comrades.
"You are already a perfected martial artist."
Great Master Wonjeok’s smooth-shaven face still ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ bore an unshaken smile.
"My worries were unnecessary. Let us meet again in Taiyuan."
Crunch.
The sound of snow compressing was crisp.
With those final words, the monk turned and departed. His saffron robe fluttered over the snowy landscape.
Only Jeong Yeon-shin, Gun Yu-rin, and Jeon Baek remained.
"Now, that’s finally settled."
Gun Yu-rin swept her hair back as she glanced at the writhing form of Bi-ik Bloodlord at her feet.
"I feel at ease. I’ve cut off the remnants of the Original Lotus interfering in my grand scheme. Now, all that’s left is to charge forward."
"Have you truly seized control over Sim Mu-ryeon’s martial forces?"
Jeong Yeon-shin asked abruptly.
Jeong Yeon-shin let out a quiet laugh as Gun Yu-rin shrugged her sharp-angled shoulders at an angle.
"Unless my bastard of a father shows up, there won't be any issues. There are only four people ranked higher than me in command—Lord of the Divine Martial Alliance and the Three Supreme Masters."
"The Grand Heir?"
"Equal to me."
She spoke with a serious expression, her lips parting slightly.
"Really, you don't need to worry. The high lords are too busy scheming over the world to bother moving. Bi-ik Bloodlord is the limit."
With a flick, Gun Yu-rin dramatically flared her sleeve.
She seemed to have lost interest in the collapsed Bi-ik Bloodlord. At least, that’s how it appeared on the surface.
"Kuh... kuhuhu..."
The swordsman who had lost everything let out a twisted, wheezing laughter. His expression was completely deranged.
Now and then, his eyes flickered toward Jeong Yeon-shin, filled with nothing but despair and helplessness.
He had spoken of mastering the Upper Dantian Sword Technique earlier, but after losing his dantian and severing his tendons, he couldn’t hold onto any semblance of composure.
Such was the nature of the martial world.
"Let’s go."
Jeong Yeon-shin turned away first. Gun Yu-rin and Jeon Baek followed shortly after.
The late winter sunlight was deep.
Everything around them was pure white. Even though they had drawn closer to one another, a strange sense of distance remained. For a while, none of them spoke.
The one-armed Jeon Baek, who had been watching Jeong Yeon-shin’s reactions closely despite their brief acquaintance, finally spoke up.
"Hold on, I need to step aside for a moment."
"Where the hell do you see a latrine around here?"
"Miss, just take the hint. Some things shouldn’t be pried into."
"Fine, just hurry up. If you steal anything again, I swear I’ll break your other wrist. Have some damn dignity, at least for your faction..."
"Yes, yes," Jeon Baek said, withdrawing into the distance. He didn’t return for a long while, finally coming back with an exaggerated excuse about how his insides had turned to stone.
With his lips curled at the corners, Jeon Baek had the refined look of a martial scholar, but in front of Gun Yu-rin and Jeong Yeon-shin, he maintained a deliberately humble demeanor.
Jeong Yeon-shin caught a faint metallic scent from Jeon Baek’s fan. A whiff of blood that hadn’t been there before.
The latrine had been an excuse.
He had gone back to kill Bi-ik Bloodlord.
Jeong Yeon-shin said nothing.
The only sound was the crunching of snow beneath their boots. Three sets of footprints lined up in the frost, and behind them, a cold silence followed.
Such was the nature of Kangho.
***
The shadow stretching from the base of the cliff was immense. It swallowed several figures without leaving a trace.
"We should’ve killed them earlier. How many times have we caught them, only to let them go?"
"They're all from prestigious families, aren't they? Their bodies are still soaked with the remnants of top-tier elixirs that haven’t fully settled into their systems. Of course, we have to treat them like treasures."
"Fine, let’s say the bastard children of the Assassination Sect and the Solar God Bloodline make sense. But what about the daughter of the Ipwang Divine Family? She’s got a tongue sharper than any blade. Someone should’ve taken her delicate little neck and—"
"Don’t be reckless. There are no exceptions."
"You sure those orders came from above?"
"That girl has plenty to extract as well. The successors of the clans under Ipwang Fortress are all trained as future Black Ranks. They never worry about their reserve energy—only the time it takes for the elixirs to fully integrate."
"Fucking hell. What a joke."
"You should be grateful. The origin of the Star-Absorbing Technique traces back to the Heavenly Demon Bloodline. That technique alone entering our faction is a blessing. Who knows? One day, you might benefit from it too."
"Mm..."
"More importantly, the Hwangbo bastard is the real problem. We went through all the trouble of scattering their group, but the losses have been immense."
"I heard. The Southern Formation of the Celestial Net was completely destroyed."
"It melted."
"And the Division Leader? No way the second strongest master of the Mo Yong Clan couldn’t handle him..."
"He captured a messenger from the Shanxi branch of Hao Clan. There was some sort of cryptic message. An encoded passphrase meant to be delivered to all Hao Clan branches across the nation."
"This is serious. Can we get access to it?"
"Of course. It said... 'Beware the pink robes.'"
Crunch.
The cliffside shadow swallowed the sound of flesh being torn apart.
With a single, sickening noise, every presence in the area fell eerily silent.
There wasn’t even the sound of bodies hitting the ground.
As if their entire beings had been crushed in an instant.
Then, out of the darkness, a faintly pale pink hemline brushed through the shade.
Not a single noise followed.