Chapter 164

Chapter 164
**Chapter 164: The Righteous Arhat’s Inquiry**

Law-Gak stood with a demeanour carved from unyielding solemnity, every line of his face speaking of a weight far heavier than mere anger. His expression was not so much shaped by fury at the transgressions laid bare before him as by a profound, aching sorrow—sorrow that those he had long believed walked the same bright, honourable path had wandered so grievously into shadow. He looked upon the unfolding scene not as a judge eager to condemn, but as one who grieved for what had been lost.

“Tell me plainly,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying across the clearing so that not a soul failed to hear it. “Did the Namgung Clan truly enter into secret league with those fouled and reviled wretches steeped in corruption, turning their hand to crush all who stood for the righteous way? And when their schemes faltered and their own weakness was laid bare, did they turn upon this young one and seek to end his life?”

It sounded, on the surface, no more than a simple question—a handful of words spoken aloud. Yet every syllable bore a gravity that pressed down upon all who listened, for the speaker was Law-Gak: cherished disciple of the Shaolin Abbot, a revered elder in his own right, and he whom the entire martial world knew and honoured by the name Righteous Arhat. That single fact transformed a routine inquiry into something momentous, something that could not be brushed aside or ignored.

*If those same words had fallen from my own lips…*

I could not help but wonder what reception they would have met. Even had the circumstances been identical in every respect, the outcome would have been utterly different. The Namgung Clan would have curled their lips in open scorn, dismissed my words with a flick of the wrist as nothing more than the petulant whining of one beneath their notice, or perhaps flown into a towering rage, howling that I dared sully the lofty, untouchable name of Namgung with such foul fabrications. The truth would have counted for nothing at all—whatever it might have been, it would have made not the slightest difference.

In short, there would have been no purpose in my asking. Why speak when you already know your voice will never be heard? Because nothing would have shifted, no admission would have been offered, and no wrong would have been set right, no matter what answer they chose to give. That was the harsh, unvarnished reality of my station: a minor young master belonging to a mid-tier martial family tucked away in Jiangxi, where great names cast such long shadows that small folk could scarce see the sun.

*It leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, does it not? Yet it is the way of things, and I would be foolish to pretend otherwise.*

This was precisely why Law-Gak’s question carried such staggering weight. He stood above the fray as few could—an unimpeachable witness whose very presence lent credence to every word he uttered. In this vast, brutal realm where strength so often masqueraded as justice, he possessed a standing and authority more solid, more enduring, than any mere martial power could ever bestow.

*Namgung Cheon-hu had tried my patience to such lengths that I found myself dreaming of things that ought not to exist at all…*

Circumstantial evidence had piled high; dark suspicions had hardened into near-certainty; even Chui-dal had brought back confirmation of what we feared. Yet for all that, the Baek Clan could not call Namgung Cheon-hu to account. We could not make our findings known to the wider world, could not demand redress or cry the truth from the rooftops. We lacked that rarest, most essential thing: irrefutable proof. Time and again I had found myself wishing, in quiet moments of desperate longing, for some miraculous treasure—some relic or enchanted artefact capable of recording past events exactly as they had occurred, preserving every gesture and word with the perfect clarity of a painting fresh from the artist’s brush.

*And of course, nothing of the kind has ever existed, nor ever will.*

So it was that I understood a fundamental truth: to expose hidden wrongdoing, you needed not just facts, but a witness—someone whose word carried inherent weight, someone in whose integrity others could place their trust without hesitation. In a word, someone whose life and reputation, built up over years or even generations, spoke more loudly than any argument. That authority might stem from the power and prestige of one’s clan, or from deeds done in one’s own right; in Law-Gak’s case, it came from both in equal measure.

*The Righteous Arhat Law-Gak is perfect—absolutely perfect—for this.*

I allowed myself a fleeting thought of triumph. Who among them would dare step forward and shout, “That monk speaks nothing but lies!” if an elder of Shaolin stood before them and staked his name, his honour, and his standing in the world upon the truth of what he said? Not even the head of the Namgung Clan himself would dare utter such words aloud. That was the measure of the man—his influence, seen and unseen, was a force as real and undeniable as the mountains themselves.

“Why do you remain silent?” Law-Gak pressed, his tone growing sterner as the silence stretched. “I ask once again, and I would have a plain answer: did the Namgung Clan bind itself to unorthodox and forbidden powers, turning its hand to bring harm to those who walk the righteous path?”

Still Namgung Cheon-hu said nothing. From the very moment Law-Gak had stepped into view, he had stood motionless, eyes gently closed, offering neither defence nor denial, making no move to speak or act. It was his followers who moved instead. Every member of the Great Namgung’s Soaring Heaven Sword Unit shifted as one, drawing their blades and levelling them—with terrifying precision—at the young clan leader they were sworn to serve and protect.

The sound of steel clearing scabbards rang out in perfect unison: click, click, click, click, echoing sharply across the quiet space.

“I offer respectful greetings to Elder Law-Gak of Shaolin,” spoke one of the company, who then slowly sheathed his sword in a formal salute. “My name is Namgung Seong-il, and I serve as Second Captain of the Soaring Heaven Sword Unit within the Namgung Clan. I have been entrusted to deliver a message directly from the head of our house.” He paused, then continued in calm, measured tones, meeting Law-Gak’s gaze without flinching. “What your eyes have witnessed here is indeed what occurred. Yet let it be clearly understood: the Namgung Clan has never strayed from the righteous path, nor do we harbour any intention of doing so now or in days to come.”

“If that is so,” Law-Gak replied, his brow furrowed in doubt, “then explain what it was this monk beheld with his own eyes.”

Namgung Seong-il turned his head and fixed Namgung Cheon-hu with a gaze so utterly empty of feeling, so devoid of warmth or deference, that it seemed impossible this was the same man who had bowed to his superior only moments before. “I take it for granted that Shaolin is fully apprised of the bloody and terrible events that unfolded at the Sword King Tomb?”

“I am aware,” Law-Gak nodded gravely. “You speak of the savage assault carried out by those who had become vessels for demonic taint?”

“Precisely so,” Seong-il confirmed. “In the course of those dreadful events, our young clan leader received a grievous, life-threatening wound at the hands of one of those tainted beings. The injury ran deeper than flesh and bone; as a direct consequence, he fell prey to a heart demon that took root and grew within him.”

“A heart demon…” Law-Gak repeated the words slowly, and understanding dawned in his eyes as he grasped exactly what line of argument was being laid before him. “Are you suggesting that every dark deed that has taken place stemmed entirely from this affliction? And that you and all who followed him did not thereby become accomplices, abetting the harm he wrought?”

“Your words are true,” Seong-il acknowledged with a slight bow of the head. “Yet we remained at his side with a dual purpose: to assess and gauge how deeply the demon had taken hold, and to conduct necessary inquiries concerning the Baek Clan.”

“Inquiries?” Law-Gak echoed, his tone sharp with suspicion. “What manner of inquiries?”

At that, Namgung Seong-il shifted his gaze and directed it straight toward me.

*And just why is this scoundrel fixing his eyes on me all of a sudden?* I thought, inwardly bristling.

“The main house has received reports that give rise to grave concern,” Seong-il declared. “It is feared that the Baek Clan itself may have come into contact with, and perhaps been touched by, demonic corruption.”

“Upon what conceivable grounds do you base such a monstrous suspicion?” I demanded, struggling to keep my voice even.

“Your own actions at the Sword King Tomb have given rise to these doubts,” he replied smoothly.

A scoff escaped my throat before I could check it—so ludicrous did the charge sound. “Suspicious? What exactly did I do that was so deserving of scrutiny?”

“In the confusion and upheaval of those terrible moments,” Seong-il stated as though reciting established fact, “witnesses came forward who saw the young master of the Baek Clan fleeing the scene while clutching a demonic sword in his hands.”

Even knowing the claim was baseless fabrication through and through, I felt a jolt of alarm run through me. *No one could possibly have seen me carrying that blade—could they? It is physically impossible.* Our group had never been swept away by the raging waters; we had escaped through a narrow fissure high up in the chamber ceiling. There had been no witness to what we did. The man standing before me was spewing lies, plain and simple. Yet for all I knew, no one could prove otherwise any more than I could disprove it. That was the cruel truth of this world: when the powerful choose to act unjustly, the weak are left with no recourse but to suffer in silence.

“Those who spoke may well have been mistaken in the chaos and terror of the moment,” Seong-il conceded, as though generously allowing for human error. “Yet the Namgung Clan is a house long renowned for upholding what is right, and as such, we bore a clear duty to seek out the truth of these matters.”

“Continue,” Law-Gak bade him, his expression serious.

“Accordingly, the head of our house dispatched the young clan leader, together with the Soaring Heaven Sword Unit, to visit the Baek Clan and discover what truth might lie behind these troubling reports.”

“Sent to carry out such an investigation while in the thrall of a heart demon?” Law-Gak pressed, plainly incredulous.

Namgung Seong-il offered a thin, melancholy smile. “The young clan leader is a man of true heroic mettle, of that there can be no question. We trusted—we believed—that his strength of spirit would prove equal to the trial, that he would find the will to cast off the shadow that clung to him. In the end, alas, it proved too great a burden even for one such as he.”

Law-Gak was not so easily satisfied. His frown deepened and he leaned forward, his gaze searching. “Be that as it may, your people drew weapons and sought to take the young master’s life.”

“We intended nothing of the sort,” Seong-il replied smoothly. “We sought only to measure how completely the demon held sway over him. Had he persisted in his violence even when brought to the very brink of taking an innocent life, we would have restrained him immediately and escorted him back to his kin to receive every care.”

In essence, that was what it all came down to: every transgression, every wrongdoing, every dark act would be laid at Namgung Cheon-hu’s feet alone. It was the oldest stratagem in the world—when covert schemes are exposed, sacrifice one to preserve the many. It was brazen beyond belief, using the heir apparent himself as the limb to be severed so that the body might survive unscathed.

“Ha… hahaha… so every last detail was planned for, was it? The clan head foresaw all of this long before it came to pass,” Namgung Cheon-hu laughed, the sound hollow and empty, as though his very soul had been drained away. “How very… thorough of you.”

Namgung Seong-il raised his voice sharply to drown out whatever else he might have said. “Young clan leader, I implore you! Cast off this dark influence! Do not let the demon speak through your lips any longer!”

It sounded like heartfelt entreaty, yet it served a calculated purpose: any further words from Namgung Cheon-hu would henceforth be seen as nothing more than the ravings of a mind unhinged, spoken at the command of the thing that possessed him.

*Well then,* I thought, *there comes a point where no amount of reasoning or truth will turn the tide. All further words are useless.* A hot, tight feeling rose in my throat—frustration, anger, helplessness—and it would have been only natural to give way to it. Yet instead, I felt a strange, sudden clarity settle over me, and from that clarity sprang laughter—bright, genuine, and unmistakeable.

Law-Gak turned toward me, visibly taken aback. “Young sir… what is it that causes you to laugh at such a moment as this?”

“How could I do otherwise?” I replied, meeting his gaze openly. “I feel an immense and profound relief!”

He blinked, plainly confused. “Relief?”

“To learn that all the trouble that has darkened our doors stems from nothing more than one man’s affliction! I had feared the Namgung Clan meant to crush our house entirely and wipe us from the pages of history! How fortunate that it is not so—yet how unspeakably tragic that one so noble should have been brought so low! As the representative of the Heaven-Covering Baek Clan, I offer our deepest and most sincere condolences to the entire Namgung Clan for this grievous trial, and I declare freely that we harbour no resentment, no grudges, and no desire for vengeance over all that has come to pass!”

Namgung Seong-il bowed formally, resting a hand upon the hilt of his sword in salute. “We thank you most sincerely for your great magnanimity, and we offer our deepest apologies for all misunderstandings and unfortunate circumstances that have led us here today.”

Polite words, faultlessly spoken, yet I could see the bitterness beneath them—he must have felt as though he were chewing dregs of pure gall. *Very well then,* I thought, *speak your fine words, but let them not remain merely words. Gratitude and apologies must be matched by deeds.* The head of the Namgung Clan had fully intended to cast Namgung Cheon-hu aside and wash his hands clean of the whole affair—he could never have foreseen Law-Gak’s arrival on the scene. Truth be told, I had not counted on the monk appearing either; it was nothing less than a stroke of heavenly fortune, falling directly into our laps when we needed it most.

“While these matters may have arisen from misunderstanding,” Seong-il continued, seeking to draw the matter to a close, “it remains true that the conduct shown was unworthy of our station. The Namgung Clan shall make fitting and substantial amends to the Baek Clan.”

“Shall you indeed?” I replied quickly, not letting the moment slip. “We shall accept nothing less, you may be sure. Forgive me if I speak too plainly—years spent attending to trade matters have made me overly direct—but I trust these amends will not be small or unworthy of such a great house?”

“The final decision rests with our clan head,” Seong-il replied, “yet you have my assurance that he will take care to ensure the settlement meets every just expectation.”

I turned to Law-Gak with a calm, steady smile. “You see, Revered Master? All was confusion and mistaken judgement from beginning to end. Surely this honourable agreement brings the matter to a close satisfactorily.”

Law-Gak looked at me for a long moment, a flicker of understanding dawning in his eyes. *So this is what you meant when you bade me simply follow your lead.* He was far from blind to how strange and suspicious the entire situation appeared, and his respect deepened as he realised what I had achieved. *What an astute and resourceful young man… his vision runs deeper than the deepest well.* Even with all his authority and the full weight of Shaolin behind him, Law-Gak could not have inflicted punishment upon Namgung Cheon-hu; disciplinary power over a scion of that house belonged to the clan alone. And with the heart demon narrative firmly in place, that door was all but barred. Yet where rage and grief might have led me to demand justice I could not obtain, I had instead turned every circumstance to our greatest possible advantage.

Law-Gak shifted his gaze back to the others, and “Amitabha” fell from his lips, the sacred syllable carrying more than a hint of censure. He might not know every hidden detail, but the dark undercurrents and unspoken intentions of the Namgung Clan were plain enough to see. Still—if those who had suffered harm chose to accept such an outcome…

“Amitabha,” he said again, more firmly. “Having heard from both sides, I acknowledge the circumstances as you have laid them out. Yet let there be no mistake: wrongdoing remains wrongdoing, no matter what clouded mind may give rise to it. The Namgung Clan must mete out punishment befitting the gravity of these misdeeds.”

“Assuredly, Revered Master,” Seong-il answered promptly.

“Carry this message to your clan head: I, Law-Gak, he whom they call the Righteous Arhat, shall keep close watch over how this matter unfolds.”

“Your message shall be delivered word for word,” Seong-il promised.

“Furthermore,” Law-Gak added, “Shaolin shall send notice to every sect and house throughout the realm, making it widely known that Namgung Cheon-hu, young clan leader of the Namgung, fell under the sway of a heart demon and committed grievous wrongs in that state.”

“Our clan head shall issue such a proclamation first himself,” Seong-il was quick to say, “in open demonstration of sincere remorse and acceptance of responsibility.”

Hearing this, my heart leapt within me in silent celebration. Meeting Law-Gak had been nothing short of providence—its blessings far exceeded anything I had dared hope for. Not only were we to receive substantial recompense, but the Namgung Clan would also remain under the unblinking scrutiny of Shaolin itself. They had planned to discard their errant heir and emerge with their reputation untouched; now that was utterly impossible. Worse still, the dark shadow of collusion with forbidden forces would hang over them and refuse to be brushed away. For one of the Five Great Clans, reputation was the very foundation of their power—the reverence in which they were held as shining beacons of righteousness gave them more influence than any army or martial skill. They had struck out to crush a humble neighbour and ended by wounding themselves. The hurt might be no more than a scratch to one so great, yet it would smart long and deep. I had never imagined this single encounter could bring such a towering low—still, it would leave a mark they would not forget in a hurry.

“Revered Master,” I spoke, stepping forward.

“Speak, young sir,” he bade me.

“Rather than linger here in this place of unpleasant memories, let us make our way first to our family manor. My father and the rest of our kin should have returned by now, and I have taken the liberty of gathering the leading figures of the district so that all may see this matter resolved in harmony.” *If I cannot strike him down, then let him stand before all who matter and bear the full weight of public shame. That shall be satisfaction enough.*