Chapter 57

Chapter 57
## Chapter: 57

### Chapter Title: Shaolin’s Sword (2)

—

“Is your physical frame truly that resilient?”

Before Cheol Woo had a chance to respond, Won Jin’s open palm—launched with a deceptively casual remark—slammed upward into his lower stomach.

Thud!

With a sound reminiscent of a heavy leather ball bursting, Cheol Woo’s massive body was lifted clean off the ground. In direct opposition to his upward trajectory, a mist of vivid red blood sprayed into the air.

Just as Won Jin lunged forward to press his advantage against Cheol Woo, a sharp needle of concentrated energy hissed toward him. Startled by the suddenness, Won Jin swung his left arm out in a desperate block. A massive force vibrated through his limb and rattled his entire skeleton. Taking advantage of that split second, a malevolent, creeping energy tried to bore into his system—a threat so potent he had to immediately cycle his internal cultivation to wash the impurity away.

“Hmph.”

Letting out a stifled grunt, Won Jin retreated several paces, his attention locking onto Sima Geon.

Remarkable. Even though the strike wasn’t at full power, for the Thunderclap Hand to be neutralized with such precision was unheard of. How has a master of this magnitude remained hidden from the world until this moment?

In that fleeting exchange of power, a spark of warrior’s pride flickered in the eyes of the elderly monk as he studied the man who appeared nearly a century old, only for the emotion to dissolve like mist.

While Sima Geon successfully checked Won Jin’s momentum, Cheol Woo—who had been sent crashing into the stone wall of the chamber—pulled himself up with a heavy stagger.

The look on Cheol Woo’s face as he smeared the blood away from his mouth was one of pure, unadulterated fury.

Curse it all!

Agonizing memories he had fought to suppress came rushing back—the trauma of being crushed by the Weight Anchor Technique of the Poison Eagle Dog Fist years ago. He had spent every waking hour since then refining his body so he would never be humiliated like that again, yet now all that discipline felt like a lie.

A wave of emptiness hit him, followed by a searing irritation that bubbled up from his core. That annoyance quickly transformed into a white-hot rage, unshackling the primal ferocity Cheol Woo usually kept under lock and key.

As he pushed his Ink Gang Asura Qi to its absolute zenith, a localized gale began to howl around his position.

His shredded garments whipped violently in the wind, and his wild hair stood on end, reaching toward the ceiling.

A crushing, regal pressure began to suffocate the raw killing intent he usually projected, dominating the entire room.

Won Jin, who had been composed until now, felt his brow twitch at the sight of the Diamond Yaksha’s true form—a visage that had once sent ripples of terror through the hearts of many. However, it was only a moment of mild surprise; no fear touched his heart.

With a calm motion, Won Jin reached out, and his splintered staff leaped back into his grip.

“Heh heh! You certainly have a tough hide. But perfection is a myth in this realm. If a thing is hard, an even harder force can shatter it. If you believe you can take it, then by all means, show me.”

As he invoked the Brahma Heavenly Divine Merit and leveled his weapon, a faint, flickering heat haze began to radiate from Won Jin’s skin.

“Ah, Amitabha!”

Gong Hu couldn’t help but gasp. He recognized the posture immediately: it was the Dharma Three Swords, a secret technique reserved exclusively for the Dharma Warden.

Just as Cheol Woo realized Won Jin’s power was escalating to dangerous levels and prepared to meet it with his own surging force, Sima Geon moved in front of him, obstructing Won Jin’s path.

“That is enough.”

Won Jin looked at Sima Geon and gave a sharp nod, appearing almost relieved to be stopped.

“Fine.”

Sima Geon frowned at the peculiar, lingering grin on Won Jin’s face and walked over to his companion.

Even though he knew what Sima Geon was going to say, Cheol Woo had no desire to back down.

The physical wound from Won Jin was minor compared to the bruising of his ego. Even if they had to leave, he wanted to reclaim at least a fragment of his honor before turning his back.

“Get out of my way, Leader.”

Cheol Woo stared daggers at Won Jin over Sima Geon’s shoulder. Sima Geon met that glare with eyes that were cold and empty.

“I know what you’re thinking. But the violence stops now.”

Cheol Woo bit his lip until it bled, silenced by a look that allowed for no dissent. It wasn’t merely the command that stopped him. Deep within those hollow eyes, he caught a glimpse of an aura—a presence far more terrifying than the killing intent of the young brat from before or his own berserk energy. When Sima Geon allowed that part of himself to show, he was truly a monster.

Satisfied that Cheol Woo’s energy was receding, Sima Geon turned back to Won Jin.

“However, this isn’t fully concluded. The final decision isn’t up to us, after all.”

Won Jin held Sima Geon’s gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft, dry chuckle.

“Quite right. In the end, the choice is ours. Now, be plain. Why have you invaded this place? What is it you want from Shaolin?”

At the question, Gong Hu and the other injured Arhats focused their eyes on Sima Geon as one. The air grew thick with anticipation; everyone knew that the battle would reignite depending on the words he spoke next.

Sima Geon inhaled deeply and, without any flowery language, made his demand clear.

“We are here for the Great Reversion Pill. We know it is kept within these walls.”

“The… The Great Reversion Pill?”

“Absolute madness!”

The Arhats, who had been hanging on every word, snarled in collective outrage. The mention of that specific treasure signaled that diplomacy was over; they immediately prepared themselves for a fight to the death.

Gong Hu shared their sentiment.

He had suspected Sima Geon’s target was the medicine in the Dharma Hall, but hearing it confirmed made the situation feel far more dire.

What truly unsettled him was the realization that they had no way to protect it. In their current state, the Four Great Diamond Guardians were unconscious with their meridians blocked, and the Eight Great Diamond Guardians were broken and bloodied. He himself was barely standing.

Can my Master actually stop them?

A question he never would have dared to ask himself before now plagued his mind.

The skills of the man he had fought were incomprehensibly deep. Furthermore, the way Sima Geon had effortlessly parried his master’s strike just moments ago was bone-chilling.

To see the Thunderclap Hand—one of the sect’s most devastating arts—brushed aside like a nuisance was hard to swallow. And the one who had used it was Won Jin, his master and the strongest fighter in all of Shaolin.

Gong Hu squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steady his ragged breathing.

The mood among the monks was grim, assuming the demand would be flatly denied. Yet, not a single one showed a hint of cowardice. They were ready to die for the pill and the honor of Shaolin.

In sharp contrast to the tension of his disciples, Won Jin didn’t seem particularly bothered by the demand. He actually let out a booming laugh.

“Heh heh! The Great Reversion Pill. Tell me, do you even understand what that represents?”

“I am aware it is a miraculous medicine beyond any worldly price.”

“You are correct. It isn’t just the power it holds, but the sheer difficulty of its creation. There is only a single pill left in our entire temple.”

“I am aware of that as well.”

“And you still expect us to hand it over?”

“I do.”

Muffled growls of fury broke out across the room at Sima Geon’s blunt, almost arrogant response.

“But what is your purpose for it? Neither you nor that giant behind you seem to be in need of such a tonic.”

Won Jin glanced over at Cheol Woo, who was vibrating with suppressed anger.

“……”

“Surely you can offer a reason? Only then can I decide if I should give it to you or die defending it.”

After a brief pause, Sima Geon’s voice took on a trace of sadness.

“My younger sister is dying. The Great Reversion Pill is the only thing that can save her.”

“A lie! What a pathetic excuse!”

Gong Hu spat the words out with a sneer. As Sima Geon’s gaze turned freezing, Won Jin raised a hand to silence his student.

“The Great Reversion Pill is a powerful spirit medicine, but it isn’t a miracle cure for every sickness. If it’s a typical ailment, a master doctor would be better. We have one here of great renown. If you want…”

“The Living Immortal Medical House already failed.”

Sima Geon shook his head slowly. Won Jin clicked his tongue when he heard the name of the legendary clinic.

“Tch! If those experts couldn’t fix it, then it’s a lost cause. Though that old fraud running the place would never admit he hit a wall.”

“But they claimed the Great Reversion Pill would work?” Gong Hu pressed.

Sima Geon worried that Gong Hu’s scrutiny might bring trouble to the medical house.

“The pill was mentioned as one of several high-tier medicines that might help. I looked for the others first, but my sister is out of time. That is why I am here.”

“What kind of condition could possibly stump the Living Immortal Medical House?”

Won Jin asked, genuinely curious.

“They identified it as the Heavenly Yin Divine Meridian.”

“Heavenly Yin Divine Meridian?”

Won Jin tilted his head, looking toward Gong Hu for clarification. Gong Hu searched his memory but eventually shook his head, having never heard the term.

“They described it as a more aggressive and deadly version of the Nine Yin Severed Meridians.”

“Amitabha!”

“The… The Nine Yin Severed Meridians!”

The name forced an exclamation from Won Jin, while Gong Hu couldn’t mask his alarm.

“I see. Now it makes sense. If it’s related to the Nine Yin Severed Meridians, then the Great Reversion Pill is indeed a viable treatment.”

Won Jin finally understood the desperation behind Sima Geon’s actions.

Taken aback by the look of sympathy on his master’s face, Gong Hu spoke up quickly.

“Master, you can’t. It is a tragedy, but that pill is the heart of this temple. We cannot simply part with it.”

Won Jin ignored him, sinking into deep contemplation before finally addressing Sima Geon.

“As you’ve been told, this is the final pill in Shaolin—a treasure we cannot give away lightly. If we refuse you, what will you do?”

Sima Geon didn’t blink.

“I will take it regardless.”

“Every man in this room will die to stop you.”

“To ensure my sister lives, I will walk through the fires of hell itself.”

The atmosphere turned freezing at the sound of Sima Geon’s voice—it was calm, but carried a weight that promised a bloodbath.

“You truly have no fear of the consequences—of facing the entire Shaolin sect?”

“For her sake, I will endure whatever comes.”

Won Jin let out a dry, mirthless laugh at Sima Geon’s iron-clad resolve.

It was shocking to see someone treat the name of Shaolin with such complete disregard. The problem was that it wasn’t a bluff.

Won Jin looked into those bottomless eyes and knew the man meant every word. He was prepared to slaughter everyone here and then the rest of the mountain if that’s what it took.

There was no hesitation in the man—only a chilling certainty of his own success.

Though it was impossible, Won Jin thought he could smell the faint scent of blood in the air.

A shiver ran down his spine. He knew the lives of all his disciples were currently balanced on the edge of a blade.

From Sima Geon’s silence radiated a terrifying selfishness—a willingness to sacrifice thousands of lives for one girl—mixed with a profound sense of grief.

Won Jin let out a soft sigh. Gong Hu, teeth clenched, looked at the remaining monks and roared.

“The brothers of this temple do not fear death!”

Cheol Woo, seeing the tension rise, stepped forward with a low growl.

“Is that so? We’ll see about that. Leader, enough talking—let’s start breaking some of them.”

Cheol Woo radiated a savage intent, looking ready to pounce. The sheer intensity of his bloodlust made even Gong Hu stumble back a step.

The situation was a powder keg waiting for a spark.

“Tch, such a hot head. How did a man with your patience ever reach this level of martial skill?”

Won Jin clicked his tongue and gestured toward the tensed Arhats.

“These young men might claim they don’t fear the end, but this old monk sees things differently.”

“Master!”

Gong Hu shouted in panic, but Won Jin silenced him with an annoyed flick of his hand.

“Think for a moment. My life is nearly over anyway. But these boys? They are the future of Shaolin. Do you really want to end their stories here and now?”

“That is…”

As Gong Hu faltered, Won Jin turned his gaze back to Sima Geon.

“The Great Reversion Pill is here in the Dharma Hall. And its true recipient has already been chosen.”

Sima Geon’s eyes drifted toward the warrior who had collapsed earlier.

“Most don’t know this, but the Dharma Hall serves as Shaolin’s sword. That is why the pill is kept here instead of the main temple complex.”

“If this is a sword, it seems you chose a sharp one. Even if it doesn’t fit the image of a monk.”

“That is the nature of a weapon. It is best if it never leaves the scabbard, but when it does, it must be used to draw blood without hesitation.”

Won Jin gave a somber smile before his expression hardened.

“If I hand you the pill, the sword meant to protect our next generation will lose its edge. To you, your sister is everything, but for us, this is a matter of our survival and our dignity.”

Sima Geon understood where the conversation was heading.

“Tell me your price, monk.”

“I will give you a chance to save her through a trade, rather than through violence or theft. Of course, since we are being forced into this, the terms will be entirely in our favor.”

Sima Geon felt no anger at the rebuke. A slight sense of relief softened his features. A path to the medicine without more killing had appeared.

“Name your terms. I will do whatever is required.”

“Are you a man of wealth?”

“Excuse me?”

Sima Geon blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“Can you pay for it with gold?”

“Not immediately. But if that is what you require, I will find a way to get it.”

“I assume you’d just be stealing from someone else.”

Sima Geon thought of the Ha Hu Clan. They would likely hand over ten million gold if he demanded it, but he kept that to himself.

“Don’t worry. I don’t want your money. The temple isn’t in need of coins. There is only one condition.”

“Tell me.”

“First, why don’t you show me who you really are? A fake face is inappropriate for a deal of this importance.”

Seeing the knowing look in Won Jin’s eyes, Sima Geon immediately deactivated his mask.

In the moonlight, his true features appeared; they were slightly different, but the core energy and impression remained consistent. Cheol Woo, surprised by the sudden move, followed suit.

“Sima Geon.”

At a look from his leader, Cheol Woo grunted his own name.

“Cheol Woo.”

“A name that suits a man of your stature.”

“Now, your condition.”

Won Jin studied Sima Geon’s face for a long time before speaking with total seriousness.

“It’s simple. Since you have broken the sword we had, you must become the sword in its place.”