Chapter 55

Chapter 55
## Chapter 55: Dharma Hall (3)

—

The sky, which had been strikingly radiant throughout the day, was now smothered by a heavy blanket of storm clouds. The full moon struggled to pierce through the dense, dark vapor, but its efforts were entirely swallowed by the gloom.

“Haha! The light has vanished completely. It seems the donation I made to the Buddha recently is finally providing some divine assistance.”

Cheol Woo glanced upward at the blackened sky, convinced the weather was favoring their infiltration, and let out a satisfied laugh.

“Perhaps so.”

Sima Geon offered a ghost of a smile, but his features quickly sharpened into a mask of focus as he looked toward their destination.

A modest hermitage was nestled halfway up the mountainside. When viewed from the main grounds of the Shaolin Temple, the dark maw of the cavern behind it was barely visible, but from their current vantage point, it was tucked away out of sight.

“Let’s move quickly.”

Sima Geon spoke in a low tone and began his approach toward the Dharma Hall—specifically the structure standing guard before the Dalma Cave.

The rear ascent lacked any semblance of a trail. The earth was rugged and choked with thick, tangled vines that resembled a mess of knotted rope. Despite the terrain, the pair advanced without pause. The combination of pitch darkness and chaotic flora failed to slow their progress.

As they neared, the silhouette of the Dharma Hall, which had previously appeared no larger than a clenched hand, began to take on a defined shape.

Suddenly, Sima Geon jerked to a stop. He clamped his palm over Cheol Woo’s mouth just as the latter was about to speak.

“What is the matter?”

Cheol Woo asked in a hushed whisper after gently moving the hand away.

“We are walking into a trap.”

Cheol Woo surveyed the immediate area, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“A trap? I don’t feel a soul nearby.”

“They are waiting. Roughly twenty jang to the left of the Dharma Hall’s threshold. There is an equal number positioned on the right.”

Cheol Woo narrowed his eyes, focusing his senses on the spots Sima Geon had identified, but he eventually shook his head. He couldn’t detect any hidden life. Nevertheless, he accepted the claim. If Sima Geon sensed them, they were certainly there.

“Sentries for the Dharma Hall? Our information didn’t mention a guard detail.”

“It implies our intelligence was flawed, or perhaps our source was kept in the dark. Regardless, we have an unexpected complication.”

“How many are we talking about?”

“Twelve in total.”

“A complication? Please, that’s nothing.”

Cheol Woo dismissed the threat with a shrug and began popping his knuckles in anticipation.

“I’ll clear the way. You go ahead and locate the Great Reversion Pill.”

Sima Geon stared at Cheol Woo’s eager expression for a second before giving a slow, negative shake of his head.

“We strike together. This must be resolved instantly.”

“What? Do you lack faith in my skills?”

“I trust you. I simply don’t want a prolonged engagement.”

Sima Geon cast a wary look back toward the main clusters of the Shaolin Temple, and Cheol Woo gave a reluctant nod of agreement.

“True. Dealing with the entire temple hierarchy would be a headache.”

“You take the left flank. I will secure the right.”

“Understood.”

Sima Geon looked at Cheol Woo’s visible excitement with a touch of apprehension.

“Do not take any lives.”

“I’m aware. I won’t let unnecessary bloodshed bring misfortune to the boy.”

Cheol Woo waved his hand as if the reminder was redundant and began stalking toward his targets.

Even with the knowledge of the hidden guards, he did not reduce his pace. The only shift was in his aura; he had become a phantom, his presence completely erased from the environment.

[Slow your pace. Do not let haste lead to a blunder. Watch for hidden mechanisms as you advance.]

Sima Geon, moving with even greater fluidity and silence, sent a mental message filled with caution.

[Stop fretting over nothing and focus on your side, leader. I’ve done this a thousand times—infiltrating like this is basic. Just because I’ve been stuck butchering livestock lately doesn’t mean my skills have…]

Cheol Woo’s mental voice snapped shut.

In that same heartbeat, a chaotic ringing of bells tore through the quiet of the woods.

Cheol Woo stood as still as a tombstone, his gaze dropping to his feet.

A strand of wire, so incredibly thin it would be invisible even in the sun, was pulled taut against his ankle.

Sima Geon, who had materialized beside him in an instant, listened to the alarms echoing from every direction and looked at the wire. He let out a heavy, weary breath.

“I had a feeling this would happen.”

A sharp pain throbbed in his head; he massaged his temples in frustration.

“Haha! Who would have thought the great Shaolin would use such petty tricks?”

Cheol Woo, the one responsible for the mistake, tried to laugh it off to ease the tension, but the attempt fell flat.

The element of surprise was gone. The Arhats of the Heavenly Kings Hall—who had been lying in wait under the direct command of the abbot—along with the Four Heavenly Kings and the Eight Vajra, were now converging on their position with terrifying speed.

—

“It appears our guests have arrived, Martial Uncle.”

Gong Hu, the leader of the Heavenly Kings Hall, rose like a lightning bolt at the sound of the signal and spoke with authority.

“So it seems. Your intuition was correct.”

The elder monk stood up with practiced calm and ignited a small lamp.

“You lazy brat! How can you sleep through this? Wake up!”

Gong Hu barked at the young monk who was snoring at his feet. The boy was curled up like a hibernating beast, his frame looking dangerously thin and fragile.

“Let him rest. His training has been grueling lately—he is likely exhausted.”

A kind smile touched Won Jin’s lips, but Gong Hu remained annoyed.

Gong Hu’s thick finger flicked the young monk—Mu In—directly in the center of his forehead.

“Ow!”

With a sharp cry, Mu In’s body flipped into the air like a fish out of water. He rubbed his brow desperately, looking at Gong Hu with an expression of pure betrayal. Even in the middle of a crisis, Gong Hu let out a dry snort at the boy’s reaction.

“Are you awake now? Or do you need another?”

“N-no, I’m up. What’s happening?”

Mu In scrambled back, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he stammered out the question.

“What’s happening? You are truly a hopeless case. You hear the world ending outside and you ask what’s happening?”

“Wait… now that I listen…”

Mu In tilted his head, then suddenly jumped to his feet as the sounds of clashing steel and shouting reached the room.

“Intruders? For real? Master was right!”

Mu In sprinted out the door without a second thought, showing a level of speed that belied his sickly appearance. Gong Hu sighed as he watched the boy vanish.

“Please forgive me, Martial Uncle. I should have disciplined that impulsive streak of his before he came to stay with you.”

Gong Hu offered a stiff bow of apology.

Mu In had been brought to the temple by Won Jin eleven years ago during a lunar eclipse. Won Jin had wanted to formally train him, but to avoid complications with the temple’s hierarchy, he had only accepted him in a nominal capacity. It was a relationship based on title rather than instruction, which only added to Gong Hu’s embarrassment.

“Think back to the boy he was when I first brought him to our gates. He was a prisoner of his own destiny, filled with nothing but hatred for existence. Is his current, vibrant self not far better?”

“……”

Gong Hu found no words to argue and silently followed Won Jin out into the night.

—

“This can’t be!”

Disbelief colored Mu Seong’s face after he delivered what he thought was a decisive blow.

His fist had connected squarely with his opponent’s chest, but it felt as though he had struck a massive iron gate. The shock of the impact sent a wave of protective qi back through his own arm, causing his internal energy to churn painfully.

“Tsk, tsk. You lack any real-world experience.”

Cheol Woo clicked his tongue in disappointment as he moved toward the staggering Mu Seong.

“When an enemy seems to leave themselves wide open, your first thought should be that it’s a trap. Blunders like that carry a heavy price.”

With those words, Cheol Woo launched a counter-strike.

Various attacks flew in from every angle to assist Mu Seong, but Cheol Woo brushed them off.

Mu Seong bit his lip until blood ran and threw his fist forward with every ounce of strength he possessed.

The two fists met in the air with a violent collision.

*Crack!*

The sound of snapping bone filled the air. Mu Seong’s arm was forced into a sickening angle, and his scream of agony echoed through the trees.

At that moment, a flurry of strikes landed on Cheol Woo from the surrounding monks.

Cheol Woo didn’t even bother to deflect them, allowing the blows to rain down on his body without suffering a single mark.

“Is that… Diamond Indestructibility?”

“He’s a demon!”

The members of the Eight Vajra who had participated in the assault backed away in terror, their hands numbed by the sheer force of the rebound.

“Protect our brother!”

Mu Hae, the head of the Eight Vajra, caught the collapsing Mu Seong and shouted to the others. They braced for a follow-up attack, but Cheol Woo stepped back, giving them the space to retreat safely.

“I’ve heard a lot about the prowess of Shaolin lately. If this is the peak of your strength, I’m unimpressed. Surely you have more to offer?”

Cheol Woo gave a mocking grin to the Eight Vajra and the Four Heavenly Kings who were now arriving from the other side of the hall.

Thousands of martial artists dream of entering Shaolin. Only a handful ever make it, and of those, only the most gifted survivors of the harshest trials are named Arhats.

The Four Heavenly Kings stood at the top, followed closely by the Eight Vajra—they represented the very soul of Shaolin’s combat might.

Cheol Woo was treating them like children. Even for monks dedicated to peace, such blatant disrespect was intolerable.

“Take him down!”

The Eight Vajra exchanged silent, furious looks and charged simultaneously.

“There we go. Come get some.”

Cheol Woo, who had been deliberately provoking them, showed a wide, predatory smile and smashed his fists together. He then charged headlong into the formation of the Eight Vajra.

He took a staff strike from the lead monk, Mu Song, directly on his shoulder and immediately fired back with a punch.

Mu Song’s heart sank the moment his staff connected.

He couldn’t get out of the way—the intruder’s speed was terrifyingly fast, a complete contradiction to his massive, bear-like frame.

A dull thud rang out as Cheol Woo’s fist sank into Mu Song’s stomach. The monk was lifted off his feet and sent flying backward.

Several of his ribs snapped, and he suffered internal trauma. However, remembering Sima Geon’s instruction to avoid killing, Cheol Woo had pulled the punch at the last second, sparing the monk’s life.

Three more staves whistled through the air toward him. Cheol Woo stood his ground, letting the weapons impact his body at full force.

*Clang! Clang! Clang!*

The sound was more like hammers hitting an anvil than wood hitting flesh. The three Vajra Arhats turned pale with shock.

Cheol Woo reached out and grabbed Mu Il’s staff as it bounced off his neck.

A brief tug-of-war ensued, but Mu Il stood no chance against Cheol Woo’s raw physical power.

As Cheol Woo prepared to strike the off-balance Mu Il, a thunderous roar preceded a kick from Mu Un that slammed into his side.

*Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!*

In the space of a single breath, eighteen consecutive kicks struck Cheol Woo. The momentum was massive—Cheol Woo’s large frame was forced back step after step.

‘Well, well.’

Cheol Woo’s expression darkened. Even though his Overlord Blood Victory Aura was protecting him, the fact that he was being pushed back at all wounded his pride.

“Hm, so this is the famous martial arts of Shaolin.”

Cheol Woo conceded that he had underestimated them slightly. But that was the extent of it. The strikes were impressive, but they weren’t enough to change the outcome. His attacker was now nursing a fractured leg, unable to withstand the backlash of the Overlord Blood Victory Aura.

“Haha! Not bad at all. Shaolin still has some teeth…”

Cheol Woo’s mocking praise died in his throat. A blow far more powerful than the previous kicks slammed into his chest and stomach at the same time.

*Boom! Boom! Boom!*

Cheol Woo was driven backward, his heels carving deep furrows into the earth with every step he took to stabilize himself.

“That strike hit home.”

“It’s not just Mu Hae—Brother Mu Yeom’s strength has reached a new level.”

A short distance away from where Cheol Woo was clashing with the Eight Vajra.

The Four Heavenly Kings felt the tension in their chests ease as they watched their brothers fall one after another, only for the tide to seemingly turn.

The combined force of Mu Hae and Mu Yeom’s Hundred Paces Divine Fist—a technique capable of shattering mountains—had landed perfectly. Even if the intruder possessed master-level external defenses, they doubted anyone could survive that unscathed.

However, as Cheol Woo stood tall and spat out a glob of blood with a defiant look, their relief turned back into pure shock.

In that exact moment, a shadow descended without a sound behind the Four Heavenly Kings.

The movement was more subtle than the falling of night dew and more deceptive than a morning fog.

A dark figure touched the ground as if he had been standing there since the beginning of time.

It was Sima Geon. He had vanished into the treetops the moment the alarms sounded and the monks emerged, ignoring the earlier complaints about his tendency to hide.

Having completely masked his life force, he had waited for the precise opening. As the Four Heavenly Kings were distracted by Cheol Woo’s resilience, he lunged from the darkness.

Mu Jun and Mu On collapsed into the dirt without a word, their necks struck with surgical precision.

Their defensive internal energy had flared up instinctively, but Sima Geon’s touch bypassed it as if it weren’t there.

Mu Yeon detected the threat and jumped back in a panic, but in the time it took him to blink, Sima Geon had already neutralized Mu Young.

Now, the attack was coming for Mu Yeon.

Mu Yeon ground his teeth together, thrusting his hand forward in a desperate bid to create distance.

A concentrated beam of energy shot toward Sima Geon.

It was the Shaolin secret technique: the Diamond Finger.

Mu Yeon’s plan was to disrupt the attacker with the finger strike and then follow up with the Thousand Hands Palm. But a cry of disbelief escaped him.

The Diamond Finger—a strike that could hole a boulder weighing a thousand geun—dissipated like mist with a simple wave of the intruder’s hand.

While he hadn’t used his maximum power due to the haste of the moment, he never dreamed it could be brushed aside so effortlessly. Because he hadn’t bought the time he needed, he was unable to properly manifest the Thousand Hands Palm. It was a critical opening.

Before he could finish extending his arm, a strike aimed at his pressure points hit home.

‘Amitabha!’

As the strength bled out of his limbs, Mu Yeon closed his eyes, surrendering to the dark.