Chapter 58

Chapter 58
## Chapter: 58

### Chapter Title: Shaolin’s Sword (3)

—

The heavy door creaked open, and Gong Hu stepped inside, his expression etched with deep fatigue.

“Is there any news?”

Won Jin, who had been focused on checking Mu In’s condition, turned his head to ask.

“I dispatched Mu Yeon to fetch him, so he should arrive shortly.”

“The place must be in total chaos. But what about the others? Are they all right?”

“The four are relatively unharmed, but the youngsters who went up against that monster…”

Gong Hu’s voice trailed off as he shook his head in frustration.

The Four Heavenly Kings, who had been suppressed by Sima Geon, had been defeated so rapidly that it wasn’t even a contest, leaving them without significant harm. However, the Eight Vajras, who had engaged in a brutal struggle against Cheol Woo, were all severely injured without exception. Mu Hae, in particular, had taken wounds so catastrophic that his survival was uncertain—he would require absolute rest for at least three or four months.

“Gong Cho is going to have a difficult time ahead.”

“True. He’s likely complaining the whole way here. Anyway, how is the boy?”

Gong Hu looked with concern at Mu In, who remained in a state of unconsciousness.

“The injuries are serious, but they aren’t life-threatening.”

“That brings a bit of comfort, I suppose.”

“Now we can clearly see the extent of his flaws. It’s not just him—all the disciples are in the same boat.”

“The price we paid is too high to call this a blessing in disguise. Losing the Shaolin Great Reversion Pill especially—I still find it hard to process.”

“It wasn’t a theft. It was a negotiation.”

“It was a theft.”

Gong Hu shook his head with conviction.

“Believe what you wish.”

“Was there truly no other option?”

Won Jin shifted his gaze toward Gong Hu and spoke softly.

“Had he been alone, it might have been manageable. He could have resisted until the main temple sent reinforcements. But he wasn’t by himself, was he? And the disciples he was supposed to fight alongside had already been neutralized.”

Gong Hu, still feeling the sting of his wounds from the encounter with Sima Geon, bit his lip.

“No. That line of thinking is flawed from the beginning.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even if he had arrived solo, managing him would have been a struggle. Even if our best were in peak form and struck as one, winning would have been a long shot.”

Won Jin reached out in silence and touched Mu In’s cheek.

“Furthermore, if the disciples hadn’t been present… I don’t believe he would have retreated so easily. He would have pursued the fight regardless of the medicine.”

Gong Hu’s brow twitched at the suggestion, his face showing a trace of regret.

“Are you startled?”

“Slightly.”

A tiny smile appeared on Won Jin’s face.

“Aside from being a follower of Buddha, he is a martial artist at heart. It is only natural to want to test oneself against a practitioner of that level. It’s simply that his dedication to the longevity of Shaolin was greater than his personal ego. He couldn’t justify sacrificing the future stars of the temple and shedding blood just to satisfy his own pride.”

Gong Hu, who looked ready to argue, remained quiet with a somber look.

Ever since Sima Geon had demanded the medicine, a core question had persisted: could Won Jin, the most powerful figure in Shaolin, actually beat him? And now, the man himself had provided the answer.

Gong Hu stayed quiet. Sensing his internal conflict, Won Jin didn’t press further, continuing his care for Mu In.

After a lengthy period of silence, Gong Hu heard the sound of approaching steps and spoke once more.

“But why did you set that specific requirement?”

“Which one?”

“Asking him to act as Shaolin’s sword.”

As Gong Hu’s tone sharpened, Won Jin let out a soft laugh.

“Is your pride wounded?”

“It isn’t about my ego. I just cannot conceive of our headquarters needing to rely on an outsider’s strength. It is simply unthinkable.”

“Tsk tsk. Why be so rigid? Being owed a favor by a warrior of his stature is a benefit in itself. If the need for his blade never arises, then all the better. If it does, it’s certainly not a disadvantage.”

“That day will never come.”

Gong Hu shook his head firmly and stood up, only to wince as a sharp pain flared in his fractured leg. He steadied himself and walked out of the room.

‘I hope so… but I fear things may not go as we wish.’

Won Jin looked past the doorway toward the horizon.

“Amitabha! The radiance of the Blood Wolf Star intensifies with every passing day. What path must we take?”

His face grew dark as he watched the star shining with a sinister crimson hue—the same star that had reappeared in the heavens after a century and a half.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

“Chief, should we take a break? The sun is starting to rise.”

Cheol Woo wiped away the perspiration dripping down his brow.

It had been about two hours since they had claimed the pill and departed from Dalma Temple. Under normal circumstances, Cheol Woo wouldn’t be winded by a brisk pace, but the consecutive battles—and taking a blow from Won Jin—had left him feeling drained.

“Fine. Let’s take a rest.”

Sima Geon sat down on the soft grass and passed his water pouch to Cheol Woo.

“Have a drink.”

His throat feeling like sandpaper, Cheol Woo took the pouch and finished it in a single breath.

“You did well.”

Sima Geon remarked with a look of apology.

He was aware that Cheol Woo wasn’t at his peak, yet they had traveled at a punishing speed. The probability of being followed was low, but he wasn’t willing to gamble.

“This? It was nothing.”

Cheol Woo gave a short laugh as he shook the empty pouch, trying to get the final drops.

“How are you feeling? The injuries?”

“I’m all right. It just bugs me that the old priest managed to land a hit.”

The memory rankled him; Cheol Woo frowned while rubbing his stomach.

“Be glad it wasn’t his full strength.”

“Not his full strength?”

Cheol Woo’s face was a mask of skepticism.

“I’m certain. If the grandmaster had truly unleashed everything, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. He was holding back.”

“That’s hard to believe…”

Cheol Woo began to protest but then went quiet. He thought for a moment and then gave a slow nod of agreement.

“You’re right. I was caught slightly off guard, but that technique was incredible. The sheer force of that palm strike—it cut right through my Ink Gang Asura Qi. He’s definitely on a different level than Poison Claw Ghost Eyes.”

“At least two levels higher, I’d say.”

“Fair point. But Chief, if it had been a real fight to the death, what would have happened?”

Unlike Cheol Woo’s cautious tone, Sima Geon spoke with total honesty.

“I would have lost. Though it wouldn’t have been a quick defeat.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Check your own instincts. You already know the truth.”

Cheol Woo jumped up and kicked a pebble in annoyance.

“Damn! Yeah. I’ve felt it since that strike to the gut—the image of the North Heaven Sword Demon popped into my head.”

“Don’t let it get to you. The old master was the most formidable person we encountered at Shaolin.”

“That’s not much of a consolation. One person stronger than me is already enough—and that’s you.”

Still mumbling to himself, Cheol Woo suddenly remembered something.

“That young monk brat, though. There was something strange about him, wasn’t there?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The one who let out that clumsy killing intent and got demolished. The one the old priest called Shaolin’s sword.”

“What about him?”

“He definitely seemed like one of Shaolin’s elite—his attacks were sharper and heavier than the others. But there’s no way he should have been able to penetrate my defense and leave these marks.”

Cheol Woo pointed to the gashes visible through his shredded attire. They weren’t deep, but for a man who rarely took damage from even the best masters, it was unsettling.

“He wasn’t using a special weapon or any qi-nullifying tool, yet he still cut me. To be honest, it rattled me. It made me wonder if Shaolin techniques have some hidden property we aren’t aware of.”

“Heavenly Slaughter Star.”

“Heavenly… what?”

Cheol Woo’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I overheard the old man. That boy Mu In was born under the sign of the Heavenly Slaughter Star.”

“The same one as the Blood Emperor?”

“It’s been a while since I heard that title. You have a good memory.”

“How could I forget? The elders at Black Dragon Valley wouldn’t stop talking about it being the ultimate star of slaughter—I heard it for days. That kid really has it?”

“It seems so.”

“The Heavenly Slaughter Star at Shaolin?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s how he did it? They say those born under such celestial signs are monsters, and I guess the stories are true. That bloodlust he was radiating actually shook my Ink Gang Asura Qi—it wasn’t normal. The myths have some truth to them.”

“It could be a unique technique as well. Dalma Temple didn’t seem like your typical Shaolin branch.”

Cheol Woo tilted his head for a second before nodding.

“That makes sense. Cutting a body as tough as mine? There’s definitely some secret at work. It’s a pity. If I had one more round, I could have figured it out. Shaolin and the Heavenly Slaughter Star—what a bizarre pairing, Chief.”

Cheol Woo looked completely perplexed.

“It’s better than him causing havoc elsewhere. Regardless, it’s not our problem. What matters is that we have this.”

Sima Geon tapped his chest. The sensation of the wooden box containing the pill against his skin made him smile naturally.

“And you threw in a contract for manual labor as a bonus.”

Cheol Woo teased him.

“I only promised to help if they requested it. Do you really think the proud Shaolin would lower themselves to ask for help? If they do, I’ll assist them gladly. We are the reason his sword is currently dormant, as the old master noted. For a cure for my sister’s condition, those terms are a bargain—ten times over, or even a hundred.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Once Sima Jin’s health was mentioned, even Cheol Woo stopped complaining.

“We’ve rested enough. We should get moving before the sun is fully up.”

“Good idea. This region gets incredibly hot in the morning. The dawn air is nice and crisp, though…”

Cheol Woo laughed, then suddenly wrinkled his nose. A stench of decay, far from refreshing, wafted into his nose.

“Chief, I smell blood.”

Cheol Woo turned his head toward the direction the wind was blowing from.

“I smell it too. Why in this place?”

Sima Geon thought briefly of Shaolin but dismissed the idea. A pursuit might happen, but no clash had occurred—there was no reason for the scent to arrive before any pursuers.

Sima Geon and Cheol Woo followed the trail of the blood scent.

After walking a short distance, Cheol Woo stopped, his expression becoming uncharacteristically serious.

“What in the world? What happened here?!”

A horrific sight was laid out before them.

Hundreds—at least—of individuals, appearing to be soldiers, were scattered about as cold remains.

“This wasn’t a war.”

As he checked the nearby corpses, Cheol Woo noticed a pattern.

“This wasn’t a battle. This was a one-sided slaughter.”

An exclamation of surprise escaped Cheol Woo.

“Every single strike was fatal. This was clean work—no hesitation, perfect cuts. Standard soldiers couldn’t have done this.”

Noticing something further away, Cheol Woo walked over and used his foot to roll over a face-down body.

Cheol Woo’s face grew tense.

It wasn’t because of the massive diagonal wound that split the chest open, revealing the organs.

What startled Cheol Woo was the clothing on the body—the distinct uniform of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

“Chief. These are Embroidered Uniform Guards.”

“I see them. And there are many.”

Sima Geon’s expression became as somber as Cheol Woo’s.

Hundreds of regular soldiers being killed was a major event, but dozens of the emperor’s elite personal guards being slaughtered? That was a different league entirely. And both men knew exactly why the Embroidered Uniform Guards were in the vicinity of Shaolin.

“It looks like Lady Ilhwangsuk’s group was attacked.”

Sima Geon nodded in response to Cheol Woo’s observation.

“It appears so. Tsk tsk. The Imperial Palace has enough problems, and now there’s this disaster.”

“The weak die for nothing. Ha! What a mess.”

Cheol Woo looked with disdain at the Embroidered Uniform Guards who had killed each other in a show of mutual destruction—a clear sign of internal betrayal.

“What’s the plan?”

Cheol Woo asked with a neutral face; he thought he knew what the answer would be.

Contrary to what he expected, Sima Geon didn’t answer immediately. His pause confused Cheol Woo.

“Are you going to interfere? I’m not a fan of palace politics.”

“You don’t want to? Then we won’t. There’s no reason to waste effort on something that doesn’t involve us.”

Sima Geon turned to walk away without hesitation.

The Azure Orchid Princess—who, like Sima Jin, had narrowly avoided death several times due to a similar condition—flickered briefly in his thoughts, but that was all. He felt no urge to get involved in imperial drama for a stranger.

“Shaolin is going to be in a difficult position, though. People dying right after visiting the temple…”

Before Cheol Woo could finish his sentence, Sima Geon stopped in his tracks.

Sima Geon’s sharp eyes were locked on a heap of Embroidered Uniform Guard bodies.

It wasn’t just Guards. The remains of young Shaolin warrior monks were mixed in as well. Every single one had had their heart violently removed; the Shaolin monks, in particular, looked like dried, shriveled husks in their gruesome state. Even in death, their features were locked in expressions of pure terror and pain.

“What? Is that the Energy Absorption Art? Right, Chief? Or something like it.”

Cheol Woo asked, clearly shocked. Sima Geon nodded and began to examine the remains, his aura turning dark.

“They killed the soldiers too. It looks like they used the warrior monks for it. The lowest kind of scum.”

Cheol Woo, checking the monks near him, suddenly went still.

“Of all the idiots…”

His mouth twisted into a snarl as he confirmed the identity of Mu Ho—the monk he had shared a brief connection with during their stay at Seorae Hall.

“Chief, if we hadn’t come across this, we could have ignored it. But seeing it right here? We can’t just walk away.”

As Sima Geon remained quiet, Cheol Woo uttered a final thought.

“Isn’t this exactly what it means to be the sword?”