Chapter 021
"Hey you, Muwon! Are you slacking off here again instead of practicing martial arts?"
The thunderous reprimand fell like lightning.
A monk's staff dropped onto the head of the young monk who was enjoying a nap on a flat rock while basking in the warm sunlight.
Thwack!
"Ouch!"
The young monk, Muwon, clutched his head and quickly jumped up to see an elderly monk.
His eyebrows and beard were so white that his age was indeterminable.
With eyebrows so long they nearly reached his shoulders, he looked almost inhuman.
"You rascal."
As if sensing Muwon's irreverent thoughts, the old monk's staff struck his head again.
Clutching his head at the stinging pain, Muwon grumbled.
"It hurts, Teacher. It really hurts."
"Amitabha."
The old monk sighed deeply.
Muwon pouted at the elder.
"What's the point of learning something I'll never get to use?"
"You brat!"
Muwon flinched at the old monk's thunderous shout.
His teacher, the elderly monk, was a scholarly monk who hadn't learned even the basics of martial arts.
Yet his shouts seemed capable of shaking the mountains.
Muwon thought to himself that the rumors about his teacher once serving in the military before turning to Buddhism must be true.
'…You're having impure thoughts again. I can hear your eyeballs rolling from here…'
"No, I'm not."
"Hah, you dare try to deceive this old monk?"
Thwack.
The old monk raised his staff and bonked Muwon on the head.
He was truly like a ghost.
He always seemed to know whenever Muwon harbored different thoughts.
The old monk, Master Baek Mi, clicked his tongue and looked at Muwon.
"How long will you let your talent rot?"
"Those warrior monks disrespect you, Teacher. Are you saying I should bow my head to them and learn from them?"
"What else would you do? This old monk is a scholarly monk, not a warrior monk."
Master Baek Mi looked at Muwon.
His deeply set white eyebrows.
The gaze that occasionally showed between them was as deep as the night sky.
"Scholarly monks and warrior monks have always been at odds. Moreover, you are my disciple who will inherit my dharma robe. How long will you sulk like this, when you're meant to be the master of the Lion Zen Chamber?"
The Lion Zen Chamber.
It was where Shaolin's promising talents were nurtured, and the headquarters of the warrior monks.
Shaolin had two pillars: the warrior monks and the law-keeping monks.
The warrior monks were martial artists, while the law-keeping monks were scholars.
Master Baek Mi was both a scholarly monk and the master of the Lion Zen Chamber.
"They disrespect you, Teacher. They say they can't follow the words of a mere scholarly monk. Even if those warrior monk fools are thick-headed, to treat the Abbot's decision this way…"
"Since when have you cared about such things?"
Master Baek Mi's words struck deep into Muwon's heart.
Since before he had grown up, when he was still a novice monk, Muwon had disliked the scholarly monks.
So it wasn't entirely wrong.
"Teacher!"
"I know, you brat."
The old monk chuckled and sat down on the flat rock.
"Even though this old monk is a scholarly monk, I am still a Shaolin monk. Those who walk the Buddhist path yet are consumed by the wicked desire to make a name for themselves in the martial world—that too is the other shore."
"You're talking strangely again, Teacher."
"When you're young and full of vigor, stuck on a mountain practicing martial arts, receiving precepts, and living a stifling life—that's why they all act that way. Just look at yourself."
Muwon closed his mouth.
Master Baek Mi smiled and said:
"Martial arts is learning, and learning is application. It's even in that book you all love so much, 'Wudang Sword Hero.' You're meant to be a pillar of Shaolin—how long will you neglect martial arts and hide away?"
"I…"
"It's been over ten years since those who left the monastery established the Ming Wang Society. If you truly desire freedom, you could seek them out."
"Are you telling me to abandon Shaolin?"
"What's stopping you?"
Master Baek Mi's hearty laughter echoed.
"As long as you carry Shaolin in your heart, that's enough. Even if you go somewhere other than the Ming Wang Society, as long as your heart belongs to Shaolin, you remain a Shaolin person. That's all there is to it."
"Teacher."
"We have a visitor coming today. Someone you all like very much."
"Someone… is it Teacher Sugyeong?!"
The old monk nodded.
"He should be meeting with the Abbot by now."
...
Mount Song, the Central Peak.
Along with Mount Hua in the west, Mount Heng in the south, Mount Tai in the east, and Mount Heng in the north, it was known as one of the Five Sacred Mountains, the birthplace of sword techniques.
But even before that, it was famous as the place where Shaolin established its nest.
As one climbs the mountain path to Shaolin, the majestic stone pagodas, shrouded in distant clouds, come into view.
Pagodas said to enshrine numerous great and virtuous monks.
With dozens, even hundreds of such pagodas standing and looking down upon those who cross the mountain gate.
This place was called the Forest of Pagodas.
"The Abbot is waiting for you."
After crossing the mountain gate and reaching the Gate of Supreme Under Heaven, which symbolized Shaolin's pride and dignity, a monk who had been waiting for Baek Sugyeong's group guided them to the Abbot's chamber.
Baek Sugyeong walked with a slightly tired expression.
"Did the Abbot already know we were coming?"
"Monk Beopsang gave advance notice, making this possible."
The monk who chuckled had white eyebrows.
Though not an elderly monk, he was of middle age.
The monk's dharma name was Oneung.
"Not quite old yet, I'm reduced to running errands like this. Like an old pig just consuming food. To avoid being scolded, I must at least run errands. Amitabha, Amitabha."
Oneung, or Zhu Oneung.
A dharma name referring to Zhu Bajie.
Namgung Somin sent a mental message with a surprised face.
'…He's one of the Three Treasure Monks, Teacher…'
The Three Treasure Monks—likely referring to the three disciples who followed the Tripitaka, excluding the master himself.
Though curiosity arose about this, he suppressed it for now and followed Monk Oneung.
The green bamboo forest lining the path to the Abbot's chamber swayed in the breeze, making laughing sounds.
The amused voice of Monk Oneung, who walked ahead, reached them.
"Isn't the air refreshing? The bamboo in the Clear Void Forest helps the children in many ways. They can harvest bamboo shoots, and it purifies the air. It's a gift from the One Bamboo Hermit."
Baek Sugyeong couldn't find words to respond.
Shaolin.
He had only heard of it, but this was his first time setting foot in the real Shaolin of the martial world.
"By One Bamboo Hermit, do you mean Master Hong Jun, the Heaven-Crossing Divine Beggar?"
It was Namgung Somin who asked the question instead of Baek Sugyeong.
"That's right. We're all growing old together. Amitabha."
"Then this is the Dragon Bamboo of the Beggars' Sect…"
Monk Oneung merely smiled without answering directly.
That was answer enough.
Dragon Bamboo, Beggars' Sect, and whatnot—he clearly didn't know much about the current martial world.
Baek Sugyeong clicked his tongue.
'…I might need to tour the Central Plains every time I write a book at this rate…'
He felt again how different the martial world he remembered was from reality.
By the way, Hong Jun.
He wondered if this was a descendant of Hong Chilgong, the Beggars' Sect leader who created the Ten Thousand Flowers Rain.
That thought crossed his mind.
As they climbed the stairs, a small hermitage welcomed those who had ascended.
Though Baek Sugyeong didn't know it, this was the Dragon Bamboo Hermitage where the Shaolin Abbot resided.
"Uncle Master Abbot. I've brought the guests."
Though no human shadow was visible, the door of the hermitage swung open.
A voice came from inside.
"Let them enter."
"This way."
They entered the Dragon Bamboo Hermitage, following Monk Oneung.
A meditation chamber surrounded by the green bamboo that Namgung Somin had called Dragon Bamboo.
A space only about 3 meters square in all directions.
Because the head monk of Shaolin lived in such a space, the abbots of Shaolin had been called "Fang Zhang" (square zhang) for generations.
Though the Dragon Bamboo Hermitage had been renovated to receive guests, a separate 3-meter square space existed within.
In that small, cramped meditation chamber sat the current Abbot of Shaolin.
A small, unimpressive figure.
An old monk who appeared to have no connection to martial arts raised his head to look at Baek Sugyeong.
"Amitabha. I heard from Beopsang. Welcome to Shaolin, Teacher Sugyeong. Please sit down. And you too, daughter of the Namgung Clan. Oneung, go and make sure no one comes up. We must discuss shameful matters."
"Yes, Uncle Master Abbot."
After Monk Oneung left and Baek Sugyeong and Namgung Somin took their seats, the old monk began to speak.
"This old monk is Musang. This unsightly old man is in charge of Shaolin in the current age."
"So you're Master Musang."
"Hehe, just an old thing that hasn't died yet despite aging."
Master Musang smiled faintly.
"I'd like to offer you a drink, but this old monk doesn't enjoy it much. Would tea be acceptable?"
"That's fine."
When Master Musang raised his hand, teacups and a teapot moved as if someone invisible was there.
Perhaps it had been boiled before Baek Sugyeong and Namgung Somin arrived.
Two cups of steaming tea were placed before them.
All without the aid of human hands.
Seeing with his own eyes what he had only written about and read, Baek Sugyeong was momentarily speechless.
"Object Seizing…"
"Hehe, a useless skill. Of no use in serving Buddha. The young ones these days don't understand that."
Master Musang continued.
"You must know that Shaolin is at odds with the Ming Wang Society, and though Shaolin appears solid as stone from the outside, inside we're split in two, fighting amongst ourselves. I wonder if Buddha himself sent Teacher Sugyeong to us."
"That can't be."
"Captivating the Central Plains with writing is no easy feat. Especially when martial artists revere it."
With a chuckle, Master Musang lowered his gaze into his teacup.
"The friction between warrior monks and scholarly monks is nothing new, but since 'Wudang Sword Hero' appeared in the Central Plains, the warrior monks have become even more aggressive. The conflict between the warrior monks and the law-keeping monks is not a recent development."
"That's a heavy topic."
"In the midst of this, we've taken in someone with exceptional talent who has no interest in training, which troubles me greatly."
"Is he timber for the ridgepole?"
To Baek Sugyeong's question about whether this person was a talent who could support Shaolin, Master Musang smiled.
"He's destined to become a great roc."
"You have such high expectations for him. Then Monk Beopsang's request for me to visit Shaolin was…"
"In hopes that Teacher Sugyeong would meet that foolish boy. Hehe. Amitabha."
"But I know nothing of martial arts."
"Couldn't you spare a few words of wisdom?"
Feeling the pressure of Master Musang's expectant gaze, Baek Sugyeong felt burdened.
It was true that "Wudang Sword Hero" had been successful in the Central Plains.
But he was neither a martial arts master nor had any connection to martial arts whatsoever.
He knew a bit of self-defense, but that was all.
"You think highly of me, but I'm not that kind of person."
Baek Sugyeong said.
Since he'd come this far, there was no avoiding it.
"But if you need someone like me to speak with him, I'll meet this person."
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📚 Author's Note:
Thanks to Rigchel for the 1 Power Stone!
🐧