Chapter 91
Chapter 91: Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven
Yanghwi’s head snapped back on its own.
The moment the stranger rose to his feet, his crown shot up to such a staggering height that one had to bend one’s neck completely backward just to catch a glimpse of his countenance.
He was an absolute titan.
Nor was he some flimsy reed of a man. Dense bands of muscle were packed tightly across every single inch of his physique. His skeletal frame alone appeared so broad, thick, and immense that it seemed to belong to an entirely different species than ordinary men.
A natural endowment of heavenly martial bones.
Yet that was hardly the full extent of it.
Yanghwi’s sharp internal perception caught the rhythmic, rolling swells of energy undulating off the figure.
This man… is immensely capable.
Remarkably, set against such an intimidating bulk, his features were extraordinarily childlike.
Far from merely looking youthful, he exuded the demeanor of a literal boy. His expression shone bright, unblemished, and devoid of guile.
“Good person!”
“Sure, sure. Why on earth would someone of your stature let themselves get pummeled by—wait.”
The sheer youth in the fellow’s face had caused Yanghwi to drop his polite speech without even realizing it.
“Forgive me, elder brother, but what age might you be?”
“Good person!”
“…If that was your way of offering thanks, you’ve said quite enough.”
“Good, good!”
“…”
From behind, Tang Gun’s calm voice cut in.
“Brother Hwi. It appears his faculties are not entirely sound.”
“So it seems.”
Yanghwi peered intently into the hulking man’s clear gaze. The fellow cried out once more.
“Good person!”
“…Understood. Thank you. Now, roughly how many winters have you seen?”
“Hmm…”
The colossal figure began wiggling his thick fingers, folding them down and popping them back up in a long, confused loop.
Running out of patience, Yanghwi tried a different angle.
“What are you called?”
A wide, radiant grin split his face as the answer boomed out.
“Adu!”
Adu? Surely that was not a reference to the dull-witted son of Liu Bei.
It certainly didn’t resemble a formal monastic title. Was he not an initiate of the Shaolin Temple?
Depending on the generational order within Shaolin, monks invariably received dharma names that bore characters representing their lineage, such as Hye, Beop, Gong, Gye, Mu, or Myeong.
“Very well, Adu. Did you come from Shaolin?”
“Yes!”
He bore the sacred burn marks of the monastic vows, yet lacked a generation character? It made little sense.
“Are you truly from Shaolin?”
“Yes!”
“Then why were you sitting there allowing neighborhood urchins to thrash you?”
“We were having fun! Those children are good!”
He considered being swarmed and battered with sticks mere playtime? And the unruly little brats beating a man mercilessly were ‘good’?
Whatever the case, the man clearly lacked basic wits.
Then why did he deem me a good person?
From his perspective, Yanghwi had essentially barged in and broken up his cheerful game with the local kids.
“What brings an initiate of Shaolin to Taihe?”
Shaolin was a foundational pillar of the martial world, a sanctuary so renowned that every soul beneath heaven knew its name.
Yet coming across an ordained monk wandering among commoners was as rare as catching a falling star. They remained cloistered away within the Shaolin Temple atop Mount Song, seldom setting foot beyond its sacred gates. Unlike the other Nine Sects, which established worldly branches and actively mingled with secular affairs, Shaolin maintained zero secular offshoots.
Unless one actively made a pilgrimage to the temple itself, crossing paths with a monk was practically unheard of.
“Yes, I set out on my lotus journey.”
Whenever their disciples attained a designated threshold of cultivation, sects throughout the jianghu dispatched them into the wide realm to accumulate practical insight. Within the walls of Shaolin, it seemed they termed this pilgrimage a lotus journey.
“Understood.”
Crossing his arms, Yanghwi paused to ponder the matter.
A chance encounter. There were certainly ways this could be turned to his advantage.
And yet.
Prodding the Shaolin Temple was a thousand times more perilous than shattering a hornets’ nest. An ill-conceived attempt to use this monk might easily startle the grass and alert the snake.
It was far wiser to walk away untangled.
“In that case, be well. Brother Tang, Brother Gu, let us be on our way.”
The instant Yanghwi turned on his heel—
“Whoa!”
His body jerked backward as a hand clamped onto the hem of his tunic. He very nearly lost his footing.
What in the world was this monstrous physical power?
“What is the matter?”
“Good person!”
“I appreciate the sentiment. Now, I am taking my leave.”
“You are a good person, so I must follow you.”
“Follow me?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“To what end?”
“Because you are a good person.”
Gu Ak let out a hearty chuckle, tossing in his two coins.
“Little Brother. It appears the towering monk has taken quite a shine to you.”
Yanghwi felt a thbbing headache coming on.
“Adu.”
“Yes?”
“Why do you insist on tailing me? Does finding someone good mean you have to pursue them?”
“Yes. The Great Monk instructed me to remain beside virtuous souls and absorb their ways.”
“And what makes you think I am so—”
The words caught in his throat. A sudden chill of realization washed over him.
Now that he took a closer look at where the giant’s gaze was locked…
He is fixated squarely on my dantian.
“You… don’t tell me you can perceive it?”
“Yes. I can see clearly that you are a good person.”
So that was the truth of it. That was why the fellow had repeated the phrase like a broken bell.
Yanghwi’s gaze grew solemn and deep.
This simpleton had actually peered right through him to sense the immortal core and the immortal qi nestled within his dantian.
No one had managed that feat since the Sound Empress.
Even a master of the caliber of the Lord of the Zhuge Family had failed to detect the slightest trace of the immortal core or its unique flow. Yet this youth, despite his massive outer frame, had unraveled it with a mere glance.
Was this the uncanny insight of Buddhist cultivation, specifically the secrets of Shaolin? Or was it something entirely separate?
Even to Yanghwi, the nature of the immortal core and immortal qi remained shrouded in baffling mystery. In truth, the primary reason he was preparing to enter the Sword King’s Tomb was to uncover clues regarding that very energy.
Becoming entangled with Shaolin will invite endless headaches. But I cannot simply abandon someone who might hold the answers I need.
Riiip.
“…”
The fabric of his tunic gave way beneath Adu’s grip.
The monk had merely been holding fast, yet instead of simply stretching, the cloth had been shredded completely clean.
Just what sort of raw strength did he possess?
“Adu. If karmic ties permit, we shall cross paths once more. You belong to the Buddhist path, so you grasp the meaning of such things, yes?”
“Karmic timing?”
“Precisely. If destiny binds us, we will meet again down the road. Farewell until then.”
“Yes!”
Peeling the boulder-like grip from his garments, Yanghwi set off briskly alongside his companions.
“…”
“…”
“…”
A resigned groan slipped past his teeth.
“Adu.”
Trailing a single step behind their heels, Adu grinned from ear to ear.
“We met again. It must be fate!”
You walked right behind my shoulder! How is that a chance reunion, you rascal?
Looking at the monk’s stubborn cheer, it was obvious the fellow would keep clinging to them even if heaven split wide open.
“Brother Hwi,” Tang Gun murmured softly. “Perhaps it is best we permit him to travel in our company for now. Leaving someone with a clouded mind behind in a bustling market sits poorly with one’s conscience.”
“Indeed,” Gu Ak agreed. “There is certainly no disadvantage in forging a loose bond with Shaolin while we have the opportunity.”
There was logic in that.
Provided they did not have an imminent date to breach the Sword King’s Tomb in half a month’s time.
Nothing can be done about it right now. I will simply have to find an opening to slip away from him later.
“Adu. Are you truly dead set on trailing me?”
“No? I am merely walking beside you.”
“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. Fine.”
Through sheer absurdity, their traveling party had acquired an enormous new member.
Because of his sheer, impossible height, the eyes of the entire marketplace remained glued to them with every stride they took. It was hard to tell whether this excessive attention was a blessing or a curse.
“Boss,” Chudal chimed in, eyeing a roadside cart. “The skewered meats over at that stall smell incredible. Toss me a coin.”
Yanghwi drew a piece of silver from his robes and flicked his wrist.
“Go fetch yourself some—whoa.”
Before the spinning silver coin could land in Chudal’s awaiting palm, a massive hand swept through the empty air and plucked it cleanly away.
“What do you think you are doing?”
“Hehehe.”
Adu beamed down at Yanghwi, his eyes sparkling with pure delight. Looking solely at that youthful, innocent face, one might genuinely feel an impulse to spoil him with treats. But matched with a towering physique that reached the eaves of the stalls, the sight induced nothing short of dizzying disorientation.
“Do you carry no coin of your own?”
“I collected alms.”
That was highway robbery, you rascal, not an offering.
Letting out a dry sigh, Yanghwi drew a second silver piece and tossed it into the air.
Thwack!
“…You require two?”
“My belly is empty, so I wish to eat a great deal.”
“Right… go fill yourself with whatever suits your fancy.”
“Thank you!”
Lifting his mountainous frame, Adu bounded down the thoroughfare, each step thudding heavily against the stone pavers.
— Now is our chance. Run, everyone!
Flashing a mental warning through qi transmission, Yanghwi engaged his lightfoot technique and burst forward alongside the group.
They sprinted at full breath through the winding alleys, arriving at the entrance of the inn where their travel packs were stored, only to freeze dead in their tracks.
“We met again. It truly is karmic timing, is it not?”
Yanghwi’s expression turned utterly rigid.
There stood Adu by the inn door, both arms practically overflowing with sweet pastries and freshly steamed rice cakes.
That meant his lightfoot technique was so astonishingly swift that he had purchased an armload of food and still outstripped their headlong dash.
This man… possesses far more than mere bottomless reserves.
Heaven-gifted martial bones.
A profound sea of internal energy that no young martial artist had any business possessing.
And on top of that, movement arts of an unfathomable tier?
Could he be the one?
Around this exact era in his previous life, an incredible whisper had rippled through the jianghu. Rumors spoke of a miraculous prodigy being nurtured deep within the cloisters of Shaolin—a figure destined to become the undisputed Greatest Under Heaven.
Because that youth had met an untimely demise before ever stepping forth to roam the jianghu, Yanghwi had never laid eyes on him, though he distinctly recalled the unbridled fury that had consumed Shaolin at the time.
Is it truly him? Could this giant be that child?
“Whew. Let us step inside for the moment.”
“Yes.”
Securing the innkeeper’s consent, they claimed a large table on the ground floor and spread out their mountain of snacks.
“Attendant! Bring us wine. Fetch the absolute finest jars you have in the cellar.”
“Right away, young master! How many flagons shall I serve?”
The two siblings of the Tang Family, Gu Ak, and Yanghwi himself.
“Four jars!”
“That will amount to eight silver nyang!”
Catching sight of Chudal sulking off to the side, Yanghwi flashed a mocking grin before accepting the sealed jars from the tavern worker.
How long had it been since he had savored a proper drop?
Seven long years had drifted by since his regression. Counted by the age of this flesh, this would mark his very first taste of alcohol in this life.
“Ah… take in that bouquet. Chudal, care to have a sniff?”
“Are you deliberately tormenting me?”
“Did you mistake this for sympathy?”
“May lightning strike you!”
While Chudal furiously shoved roasted meat into his maw, Yanghwi carefully filled the ceramic cups to their rims.
“Brother Tang. Sister Tang. Brother Gu. Let us toast together!”
Tapping the rims in a light salute, he tilted his head back and drained the vessel in a single draft.
A rich, mellow fragrance. A deep, lingering warmth that coated the palate.
“Aaaah!”
This was the essence of true wine! This was how spirits were meant to taste!
In his former life, he had settled for crude, burning rotgut just to preserve every stray copper. To finally taste a vintage this exquisitely crafted…
“Boss. Could you not spare even half a cup?”
“Patience, little one.”
“I have barely three months remaining before my fifteenth birthday! Just three months!”
“Even when your age turns, one cannot touch strong drink until the bones are fully set.”
“…”
Wearing a satisfied smirk, Yanghwi plucked a morsel of savory meat to chase the drink. His eyes then drifted over to the mountain of food Adu was consuming.
Not a single scrap of meat was in sight.
Naturally, a Buddhist ascetic was bound by dietary vows, but it baffled the mind how such an enormous physical frame could possibly be sustained on grains and vegetables alone.
“Monk. Would you fancy a taste of this?”
“Huh?”
“Now, now, Yeon,” Tang Gun intervened gently. “Do not tease our guest.”
“Tch, fine.”
It took roughly two shichen for the sprawling spread to be wiped entirely clean.
With a warm intoxication comfortably settling in, they ordered fresh savory dishes from the kitchen to draw out the lively gathering, passing around a fresh flagon for each drinker.
“Ah, pardon me for a moment. I need to step out.”
“Little Brother,” Gu Ak called out. “Where are you bound?”
“Just stepping away to relieve myself.”
Crossing through the threshold of the tavern, Yanghwi halted in the corridor and cast a backward glance.
“What is this? You aren’t sticking to my heels this time?”
Adu beamed with unvarnished innocence.
“Everyone seated here is a companion. You will not run off.”
…He isn’t quite the simpleton he pretends to be, is he?
“Wandering alone is dull work. Chudal, since you are the lone sober soul here, come along.”
“Why drag me into it?”
“Quit your complaining and move your feet.”
Guiding Chudal along behind him, Yanghwi’s mind churned.
Shaolin. The legendary Shaolin, of all factions.
Ah, what does it matter?
Since he was already set on throwing the regional balance into absolute chaos, what harm was there in dragging Shaolin into the fray as well?
Mount Song, the ancestral home of Shaolin, was situated right above them within Henan. If he pushed himself with haste, he could reach the temple’s thresholds within three days’ travel.
Whew. For now, let us stick to the primary strategy and adjust when necessary.
“Chudal, stay close.”
With that quiet instruction, Yanghwi’s form lifted effortlessly into the air.
Gliding soundlessly over the pitched roofs, he scaled the tavern’s exterior until he reached the uppermost floor.
“A good evening to you, proprietor.”
“Eeeek! Heavens above!”
The elderly figure managing the records behind a sturdy desk nearly tumbled off their stool in sheer terror upon seeing Yanghwi materialize.
“Careful there. Do not lose your balance.”
Darting forward with liquid grace, Yanghwi caught the innkeeper’s sleeve and helped them regain their footing.
“Wh-what brings an esteemed young wanderer through the window…? I-if it is silver you desire, the strongbox rests right over there.”
Clearly, some lawless sect was operating within the vicinity. The innkeeper had immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was a routine shake-down. Then again, an armed martial practitioner dropping in through a high window rarely heralded good tidings.
“Forgive my rough entry. Had I utilized the stairs, I risked drawing unwanted eyes.”
“Th-then what is your business here…?”
His objective was simple and singular.
“Direct me to the local station of the Hao Sect.”
At those words, the proprietor’s frail posture stiffened, their expression shifting in the blink of an eye.
— Boss! This person is dangerous!
“The Hao Sect, you say… What would you want with such scoundrels?”
“What other reason could bring a customer to their doors? Either to sell intelligence, or purchase it. It is always one or the other.”
The innkeeper’s hands drifted quietly toward the lower recesses of the counter.
Seeing the subtle movement, Chudal bolted forward like an uncaged hound.
“Where do you think you are reach—!”
Yet Chudal’s charge halted instantly in midair.
Yanghwi’s hand had reached out and locked firmly onto the scruff of his collar, leaving his feet kicking empty space.
“You fool, how many times must I warn you to stop filling your head with cheap gutter serials?”
“…?”
The tavern master, who had tensed at Chudal’s sudden charge, slowly raised their hands back into plain sight.
Resting in their grasp were nothing more than a thick leather ledger and a polished wooden abacus.
“Welcome, honored patron!”
“…Ah?”
Yanghwi turned to look down at the completely dumbfounded boy, his eyes brimming with sheer, unadulterated pity.
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