Chapter 50

Chapter 50
Chapter: 50

Chapter Title: Shaolin Temple (1)

—

Dengbong County, Henan Province.

A modest urban center situated in the immediate shadow of Shaolin Temple—the undisputed North Star of the martial arts realm—had been overflowing with travelers for several days.

“Damn, what is all this? Where did this massive crowd spring from?”

Sima Geon and Cheol Woo, who had managed to reach Dengbong County within twenty-four hours of departing from Jeongju, were completely taken aback by the unforeseen congestion.

“This isn’t exactly a metropolis. Something feels off.”

Sima Geon surveyed the thoroughfares, which were packed with men and women of every age, many dressed in vibrant, eye-catching garments.

“Whatever the reason is, we need to eat, chief. We haven’t had a bite all day—my stomach is practically touching my spine.”

Cheol Woo massaged his firm, bronze-toned abdomen and let out a theatrical groan of hunger.

“Getting food might be a challenge of its own.”

Sima Geon exhaled sharply, gesturing toward the various taverns and eateries that were bursting at the seams with patrons.

“There’s no way we can’t find a single table for a meal. Our luck has to turn eventually.”

Cheol Woo gripped Sima Geon’s sleeve and pulled him along. However, the task proved far from simple.

It required thirty minutes of searching before they were finally able to secure a supply of alcohol, a plate of fried pork, and a serving of simple noodles.

“This place is a madhouse. And why are the prices so inflated?”

Cheol Woo complained, giving a liquor container a rough shake.

“Be quiet and start pouring. We should consider ourselves fortunate just to have these stools.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Cheol Woo cast a smug look at the people still wandering the floor, frustrated by the lack of seating.

“Hey, boy.”

Having finished his first drink in a single gulp, Cheol Woo signaled to a busy young servant and rattled the empty vessel.

“Bring more spirits. And don’t bother with these little jars—get us a large container.”

The server looked ready to retort, but one look at Cheol Woo’s intimidating expression made him think better of it; he hurried off to fetch a jug of the requested size.

“Wait a second, kid.”

Cheol Woo stopped him again as the boy tried to retreat.

“What is it now?”

The boy’s features were clouded with irritation, making no effort to hide his displeasure.

“I need some information.”

Cheol Woo flipped a piece of silver toward him, and the servant’s demeanor transformed instantly.

“Of course, master. Please, ask anything.”

His hand snatched the coin with practiced ease while he surreptitiously checked his surroundings—a true professional of the trade.

“What is the reason for this tiny town being so packed? What’s the occasion?”

The waiter stared at him as if he were looking at someone from another world.

“The great dharma assembly has been underway for days.”

“A dharma assembly? Conducted by Shaolin?”

“Indeed. Everyone is pouring in to witness the events. To be precise, they are here for the grand Buddhist ceremony taking place in three days.”

As Sima Geon and Cheol Woo looked on with blank expressions, the boy’s eyes went wide.

“Are you saying you traveled here without knowing? It’s not just this town—the entire province, and even the neighboring ones, are in an uproar over this.”

“What? Of course we were aware.”

Cheol Woo puffed out his chest and spoke with forced confidence, though his lack of knowledge was painfully obvious.

The waiter sighed, prepared to offer more details, but the distant shout of his employer made him turn—until a second coin from Cheol Woo bought his loyalty once more. He returned at every opportunity, whispering facts about the Shaolin gathering and the upcoming ritual.

“A massive Buddhist ceremony at Shaolin in three days. Even the Emperor’s uncle is scheduled to attend. Imperial regiments are already cordoning off the entire region.”

“If a member of the Imperial family is coming, it must be an event of immense scale.”

Sima Geon showed a spark of curiosity, and the boy, encouraged, began to ramble.

“I heard a traveler say that the Enthronement Rite for the Buddha hasn’t been performed in over a century. People are coming from every corner of the land, no matter how far they have to trek.”

The server’s voice suddenly dropped to a low murmur.

“And then you have all the sycophants hoping to earn favor with the Emperor’s uncle. That’s why everything is so chaotic.”

He looked around the crowded room with annoyance—the workload was overwhelming.

“So, what exactly is this Enthronement Rite?”

The boy’s eyes nearly popped at Cheol Woo’s query, clearly struggling to suppress a comment about his ignorance.

“It involves the formal installation of a Buddha statue within the temple hall. I’ve heard this one is crafted from solid gold and is absolutely massive.”

“Pure gold? They certainly know how to squander wealth.”

Cheol Woo gave a derisive snort. The server winced and hissed a warning.

“Keep your voice down—you’ll find yourself in a world of trouble. An official from the palace was seated right over there moments ago. One wrong word and you could vanish without a trace.”

“I’m not worried. Regardless, thanks for the info.”

Cheol Woo grinned and handed him two additional coins. The boy gave a graceful bow, then stopped as if a thought had just occurred to him.

“To be honest, though? It’s not really squandering money.”

“How so?”

“Word is the Emperor’s uncle’s daughter suffered from a terrible malady. Shaolin managed to heal her. After a miracle like that, what’s a bit of gold?”

The boy clicked his tongue and hurried away. Cheol Woo looked slightly embarrassed.

“That kid certainly has a way of making a man feel foolish.”

“A major ceremony like this at this specific time? It seems the heavens are favoring us. This might proceed more smoothly than we anticipated. Our primary goal remains locating the Great Reversion Pill, however.”

“Why stress over it? If all else fails, we’ll just corner a high-ranking monk and demand answers. Who knows, they might even have the thing sitting out in the open in the main hall just to show off.”

“Ha! That would certainly make things easy.”

Sima Geon gave a short, dry laugh and finished the rest of his drink.

“Let’s make our way to Shaolin. We need to make contact. Even if things go south, we need to understand the terrain first.”

Sima Geon stood up abruptly, and Cheol Woo quickly finished his cup to keep pace.

“Hey, chief.”

“What?”

“Back there… did you actually understand what that Enthronement Rite was? I’m pretty sure that kid was mocking us.”

“……”

Sima Geon stopped for a second, gave Cheol Woo’s shoulder a firm pat, and increased his walking speed.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

“The kid wasn’t exaggerating—this atmosphere is intense.”

Cheol Woo observed the imperial troops positioned at every strategic path leading toward Shaolin.

“It makes sense. A relative of the Emperor is in transit.”

“But look at their form. They have the numbers, sure, but no real lethality.”

“The true combatants are stationed elsewhere.”

“Is that so? Heh heh! I’m itching to see what they’ve got.”

A thunderous roar of approval broke out just as Cheol Woo let out a hungry grin.

“Woooah!”

Sima Geon and Cheol Woo turned their attention toward the source of the noise.

Just off the main path, a large banner emblazoned with the words “Dengbong Martial Hall” snapped in the wind, surrounded by a sizable crowd.

“Another one?”

Cheol Woo’s expression turned to boredom.

He had witnessed several similar displays during their trek. The local training halls seemed to have emptied their students into the streets.

“In a sense, this is the foundation of Shaolin’s influence.”

Sima Geon watched the martial arts demonstration.

Even the basic patterns were executed with high precision and focused energy.

“True enough. I’ve heard there are countless halls in this vicinity. All of them are either former students or affiliates—they could pull together a massive army if they needed to.”

“That is why they are considered the Pole Star. At any rate, let’s keep moving.”

“Wait, chief.”

“What is it?”

“Are we just going in looking like this?”

Sima Geon looked at him blankly, but Cheol Woo pointed a finger at his own face.

“This. We need to adjust this.”

“Ah, you’re right.”

Realizing his oversight, Sima Geon waited for the crowd’s attention to be fixed on the demonstration before activating the Transformation Art. His facial features shifted rapidly, settling into the appearance he had adopted during the Hahu Clan competition.

Cheol Woo imitated the action.

His aura remained aggressive, but his eyes and mouth were reshaped. Up close, there was a slight sense of unnaturalness to the proportions.

“What do you think, chief? It’s flawless, isn’t it?”

“……”

Sima Geon looked at him in silence, let out a weary sigh, and walked away.

Within the hierarchy of Black Dragon Valley, no one possessed a greater mastery of the Transformation Art than Cheol Woo—aside from Sima Geon himself.

“Hey? Why that look? Is it lopsided?”

Cheol Woo hurried after him, continuing to pester him, but Sima Geon remained silent. The pair continued their journey and arrived at the gates of Shaolin exactly thirty minutes later.

“Good grief, this is madness.”

Cheol Woo shook his head in disbelief.

The entrance to the mountain was a chaotic swarm of religious pilgrims, sightseers, merchants, and soldiers—it resembled a bustling marketplace more than a temple.

“The influence of the Emperor’s uncle is formidable. There must be at least five hundred soldiers stationed here. But honestly, who would lose to these straw men?”

Cheol Woo looked down his nose at the gathered infantry.

“Those soldiers are there to manage the commoners. The real security for those of us in the martial world is separate. It’s likely them.”

Sima Geon gestured toward a group gathered a short distance from the main gate.

There were roughly thirty of them.

Clad in purple uniforms paired with golden outer robes, they appeared to be in casual conversation—yet their gazes were sharp, analyzing everyone who passed through the gates.

“The Emperor’s Brocade Guard, no doubt.”

Cheol Woo looked at them with a disinterested air.

“All show and no substance—just like the infantry. The monks actually look more formidable.”

Sima Geon smiled thinly at the young monks who were busy directing the flow of people. They wore soft expressions and welcoming faces—but they couldn’t entirely mask the faint, sharp aura emanating from their bodies.

“They do seem capable. But they aren’t the elite Shaolin disciples yet. They are the representatives of the orthodox world after all…”

Sima Geon’s laughter died in his throat.

“What’s wrong?”

He pointed with his chin.

“We were mistaken. We underestimated the imperial court. The true experts were keeping a low profile.”

Cheol Woo shifted his gaze.

The Brocade Guards, who had previously appeared relaxed, were now standing in a state of rigid, professional discipline. His Iron Gaze revealed the cause: three middle-aged figures were exiting the gate.

“Are you impressed now?”

“You’re right, chief. The Brocade Guard has to maintain that standard.”

Cheol Woo appraised their strength—they were on the same level as elders from the great sects. Specifically, the man on the right, who was speaking with a junior monk, was a master of a caliber rarely encountered.

“He gives off the same vibe as that old man.”

“Which one?”

“The one we crossed paths with at the Golden Fox Lair.”

Sima Geon understood the reference immediately.

“From the Namgung Clan?”

“That’s the one.”

“Indeed. A very similar presence.”

Sima Geon nodded, the image of Namgung Kyung appearing in his mind.

“In any case, we need to stay alert.”

“You worry too much. If things get ugly, we’ll just clear the path. As long as this mask holds up, we’re fine.”

Cheol Woo chuckled, tapping his altered cheek.

“This isn’t a joke. Stay focused.”

Sima Geon’s tone turned serious; Cheol Woo winced and looked toward the ground. Realizing he might have been too harsh, Sima Geon reached out and patted his companion’s shoulder.

“I’m just on edge. Don’t take it to heart.”

“I’m not taking it to heart!”

“Good to hear.”

Sima Geon gave Cheol Woo a playful nudge as the larger man huffed, then looked around at the environment.

“We shouldn’t stand here attracting attention. Let’s move.”

However, Cheol Woo’s massive frame—standing significantly taller than the average person—combined with his intense facial features, was already drawing eyes.

As a result, a clear space had naturally formed around them despite the dense, market-like throng at the temple entrance.

Unlike Sima Geon, who was wary of the attention, Cheol Woo began to walk with a more confident stride, his shoulders broad.

“What a peculiar duo.”

Even while engaged in conversation with the monk responsible for greeting guests, Jo Ryong had not failed to track the movements of Sima Geon and Cheol Woo—his eyes flashing with a calculating light.