novelraw Chapter 11 : Who Made the Sound of the Wooden Fish?
Chapter 11 : Who Made the Sound of the Wooden Fish?
Chapter 11: Who Made the Sound of the Wooden Fish?
I opened my eyes to a boisterous noise.
Because the first thing I saw upon opening my eyes was Hwa Pyeong's ugly face, I closed them again.
"Hey now, are you closing your eyes? Wang Cho. Open them. Does my face look that ugly to you? No way. Women fall head over heels for a face like this. I don't run a business under a gisaeng house for nothing."
Hwa Pyeong's nonsense hit my ears first thing in the morning.
I kicked off the blanket I was covered with and said as I sat up.
"You crazy bastard. What kind of madness is this at this hour? I never said anything about your face. If you are so confident in it, you should just get a girlfriend. Why do you drag in being a gambling house owner as if it is something to be proud of? Because you are so ugly, the Lord—"
...the Lord killed you. The words almost jumped out of my throat before I pulled them back.
I almost spouted nonsense in my drowsy state.
"Man, you sound just like the old farts in our Hao Clan. You're like a little old man. Why do you talk so much? You always talked a lot, but it has gotten especially bad lately."
Fortunately, the bastard seemed to gloss over my slip of tongue.
Anyway, why was this guy by my side.
As I turned my head to look around, I saw that this was the dugout hut where I had lived since I was a child.
Come to think of it, after my regression, I had slept in a very strange place instead of here.
'I couldn't pay attention because so many strange things happened as soon as I regressed.'
Even though I was the one who caused those things.
Since Hong Chosam died, an Elders' meeting would be held soon. They would probably elect a new Elder Hwa there.
I did not know who would become the Elder.
I suddenly looked at Hwa Pyeong, who was sitting on my bed with me, and asked.
"By the way, why are you here? No matter how close we are, this is the Beggar Sect headquarters. It is not a place where a mere branch leader of the Hao Clan can just waltz in."
"The Sect Leader told me to come in. He said he needed some rest. Besides, it is a well-known fact in the martial world that our Sect Leader and your Sect Leader are close, so what's the big deal."
"Enough with the trivial talk. Let's just get to the point. You're not the type to do something just because someone tells you to. Why did you come? Don't tell me you already spent all that money I left with you last time?"
Hwa Pyeong shook his head at my words.
"No, I haven't touched a single coin. I'm not that kind of unscrupulous guy. Unless I'm short on money for my mother's medicine, I wouldn't use a friend's money. Where else would you find a friend like this?"
Come to think of it, Hwa Pyeong was an extremely filial son. To think this guy, who ruined many lives running a gambling house, was a filial son?
The heavens would laugh, the earth would laugh, and even the dead Hong Chosam would laugh in hell.
It felt like the nonsense was starting again, so I slapped my own cheek hard before opening my mouth.
"Then that is fine. It is a bit strange for a beggar to have money, so you keep holding onto it. So, why did you say you came?"
"Ah, that. Hm. Do you want to go eat some temple food with me?"
I slapped the cheek of the nonsense-spouting Hwa Pyeong. To go eat at a sacred temple? This was something the blood of a Taoist inherent within me would not allow.
'If Laozi had seen me, he would have handed me a copy of the Tao Te Ching and told me to become his disciple.'
In that case, I would have become one of the Hundred Schools of Thought.
Come to think of it, temples were Buddhist.
In my heart, I spat at the Shakyamuni Buddha several times.
'Ptooey, you cursed bastard. Why did you tell monks not to eat meat? You are the pest of the world. Because of your tyranny, those shiny-headed baldies don't know the taste of meat.'
Then again, I recalled that Shakyamuni Buddha never actually told people not to eat meat.
Enough with the nonsense.
I asked the aggrieved Hwa Pyeong, who was touching his reddened cheek.
"Ah, sorry. I told you to just get to the point from the start. What's this about a temple all of a sudden?"
Hwa Pyeong pulled a human skin mask out from his robe, toyed with it, and spoke to me.
"Where else would martial artists like us go? We have to go to the Shaolin Temple. My mother's health has gotten worse. Even if I can't get a Great Returning Pill, I'll feel better if I throw enough money at those greedy monks to get something like a Lesser Returning Pill."
I stared into the bastard's face for a moment.
He did not seem to be lying.
That meant the illegal gambling and the way he earned money so tenaciously were all for the sake of his mother.
'What a crazy filial son......'
I swallowed that thought and looked at the human skin mask in Hwa Pyeong's hand as I asked.
"Why are you still touching that. Do you really have to wear a human skin mask to go? It will be obvious to masters who have reached a certain level of cultivation anyway."
"It is the Shaolin Temple, called the sacred ground of the Orthodox Faction. I can't exactly walk in there with my head held high. Look at the scars on this face. Who would think I'm an Orthodox man?"
I let out a sigh and was about to start a long lecture, but I suddenly felt I was being too much of a nag and stopped.
Since I had business at Shaolin anyway, I intended to go with him.
Two were clearly better than one.
Hwa Pyeong, who put the human skin mask back into his robe after stroking it, said with a smile.
"Let's go. If I go alone, it will be hard to meet someone high-ranking enough to give me a Lesser Returning Pill. I should benefit from having a friend who is the acting Sect Leader. Besides, the Beggar Sect can travel anywhere without the Sect Leader's explicit permission anyway."
I nodded and stepped out of the hut.
* * *
In the end, the gambling house owner and I set off for Mount Song in Henan.
Even if Shaolin was the member of the Nine Sect Alliance closest to the Beggar Sect, that only meant it was relatively closer compared to other sects.
With Hwa Pyeong's level of lightfoot technique, it would likely take a full month.
However, going to Shaolin was not particularly urgent.
I was worried about Hwa Pyeong's mother, but the beggars said they would look in on her three times a day.
Regardless, I decided to refine Hwa Pyeong's martial arts little by little while we traveled.
While performing lightfoot, Hwa Pyeong suddenly stopped and thrust his hand out.
It was the Warm Flower Buddha Shadow Hand of the Hao Clan.
Black hand shadows shot out here and there in a flighty manner.
It was a technique where it was difficult to distinguish between feints and real strikes.
Hwa Pyeong swung his fists several times and then asked me with a grin.
"How is it? You don't see anything to fix, right? My fists have been spicy since I was a kid. At this rate, maybe I should take the head of the Shaolin Abbot on the way back?"
I tilted my head at his words and said.
"How can you be so trashy at this? Are you doing this on purpose? The pebbles scattered on the road would do better than this. How did you become a branch leader? Did you win that in a gamble too? No, how can you interpret it in such a shitty way. Hwa Pyeong."
Becoming depressed at my words, he kicked a pebble on the road and said.
"I won, didn't I? I did better than the pebble."
"Sure you did."
I pulled the sword from my waist and threw it to Hwa Pyeong.
As if understanding my intent, he nodded and swung the sword.
Under the hot sunlight, Hwa Pyeong swung the sword as if dancing.
It was pure flash with zero substance.
"You cursed Jianghu insect."
Hearing my voice shivering with disgust, Hwa Pyeong panted and stopped his sword dance.
"Wait, why? I did well. What's the problem?"
I snatched the sword from Hwa Pyeong's grip and immediately performed a single downward strike.
Frowning, Hwa Pyeong asked.
"What? That was just a strike. How is it different from what I did, you beggar bastard."
I followed Hwa Pyeong's posture exactly and struck down, then struck down again with my own posture.
Then, the bastard nodded as if he understood.
Had I finally reformed a beast?
"Ah! I totally get it. You're messing with me, right? Wang Cho, that kind of trickery doesn't work on me. I've been through all sorts of hardships and even fallen into a cesspool. That son of a bitch... he dared to ambush me in an outhouse? The dignity of the martial world has fallen into the filth of a latrine."
I put the sword back at my waist and continued. I almost cut his throat for a second.
"Look, the downward strike you did had a mess of a weight balance. No, I'm telling you, even if you swing a worthless sword technique, do it with the intent to cut down the world. Haven't you heard of intent? Is it really that difficult?"
"Alright, alright. Intent... oh, it sounds like something caught in the clouds. If our successor wants it, I guess I have to learn again. Starting from the Basic Three-Talent Sword Technique found in the marketplace."
What was I trying to achieve by teaching this guy…
My heart was like a reed in the first place, so my interest could cool down quickly.
Regardless, I supposed I should keep teaching him whenever I had time.
I watched Hwa Pyeong swing the Three-Talent Sword Technique while counting one, two, and said.
"Let's go for now. I'm hungry. We should go somewhere and eat."
"What about liquor? You know I don't eat without liquor."
"It is the same for me. How about some Dukang liquor? You're paying, of course. Where would a beggar get money."
"You’re a stingy bastard as always."
And so, the two drunks continued to run toward Mount Song.
* * *
They say all martial arts under heaven originated from Shaolin.
It meant 'every study in the world came out of Shaolin.'
I reflexively thought that it made sense for the Shaolin Temple, with its thousand-year history.
"Whoa. This mountain is freaking huge. If Mount Song is this big, how high are Mount Tai or Mount Hua?"
...Actually, Mount Tai is not that high of a mountain.
At Hwa Pyeong's admiring murmur—he was now wearing a human skin mask of a middle-aged man—I turned my head to look at the majestic mountain scenery of Mount Song.
One of the five mountains symbolizing the vast Central Plains. Mount Song, the Central Peak among the Five Great Peaks.
At this moment, my feelings upon looking at Mount Song were bound to be peculiar.
Because the place where I died was none other than Mount Song.
At that time, it had collapsed so much from the final battle between me and Baek Cheon that it was hard for anyone to even recognize it as Mount Song.
Thinking bitter thoughts made me a bit annoyed. I began to climb Mount Song with Hwa Pyeong.
* * *
We kept walking and walking, and by the time we arrived at the Shaolin Temple, it was already night. The sect that stood as the leader of the Nine Sect Alliance. It was also a lively place where those monks recited scriptures and banged on wooden fish.
"What business brings the patrons to our humble temple?"
It was a question from a middle-aged monk guarding the gates of Shaolin.
'His physique is very solid. Did he master the Muscle-Bone Strengthening Scripture? His posture is quite stable. Is he a first-generation disciple?'
If he was a first-generation disciple, he was the core strength of the Nine Sect Alliance.
Normally, they would be busy beating down supernatural entities that harm pilgrims with their wooden fish.
Although I didn't say it, we also encountered a few supernatural entities while climbing Mount Song.
Of course, we beat them and drove them away.
It seemed this dignified monk was assigned the role of guarding the mountain gates.
There were several others on alert around him, and they appeared to be second-generation disciples.
I stared at the monk and then clasped my hands—not both, but just one—to greet him.
It was the Half-Palm Stance unique to Shaolin.
"I am Wang Cho, the Drunken Sword, here in the capacity of the acting Sect Leader of the Beggar Sect. I have come to see the Great Abbot."
While saying that, I subtly showed the eight knots at my waist.
This indicated my status as the successor of the Beggar Sect.
The baldy's mouth opened slightly as if he was surprised upon seeing my waist, and after a moment of silence, he finally spoke.
"...The Great Abbot is currently enlightening the beasts of the Unorthodox Faction until this late hour. Would the acting Sect Leader care to join them, or would you prefer to wait?"
"I will join."
The middle-aged monk smiled brightly and said.
"Let us go."
Hwa Pyeong and I followed him past numerous pavilions.
As we passed through while looking for differences from my past life and viewing the Forest of Pagodas, the pride of Shaolin, we arrived at a place called the Great Hero Hall.
Normally, meeting the leader of the Nine Sect Alliance was akin to plucking a star from the sky, but I seemed to be accepted easily because I was the acting leader of one of the Nine Sects.
"Please enter."
The baldy gestured toward the Great Hero Hall. He did not seem to be entering himself. Hwa Pyeong and I cautiously stepped into the place called the Great Hero Hall.
Centered around the murmuring of a long-bearded, one-eyed old monk in the middle, rows of fierce-looking martial artists were kneeling on both sides.
The strange thing was that everyone except the old monk was wearing monk robes and holding wooden fish while wearing handcuffs that suppressed inner Qi.
When Hwa Pyeong closed the door of the Great Hero Hall with a thud, a martial artist startled by the noise dropped his wooden fish.
The clear sound of the wooden fish echoed through the Great Hero Hall.
The eyes of the old monk, Beom Cheon, the Abbot of Shaolin who had been preaching like a nag with a benevolent face, snapped open.
"Who... who made the sound of the wooden fish?"