novelraw Chapter 13 : A Martial Artist Should Not Only Chatter with Words
Chapter 13 : A Martial Artist Should Not Only Chatter with Words
Chapter 13: A Martial Artist Should Not Only Chatter with Words
I had expected it. I have never once distrusted my senses in my entire life.
Overconfidence in one's own senses is an essential virtue of a master.
That is why martial artists despise things like illusions or poisons that play with the five senses.
'A regressor huh.'
Those who return through time. Even at this moment, there were quite a few people I suspected were regressors. One should not underestimate the Upper Dantian of a Celestial Martial Body.
Beom Cheon's aura completely shifted. From a demeanor that seemed to at least maintain etiquette, he turned into a peerless master radiating a monstrous sense of intimidation from his entire body.
The incense stick had clearly burned out long ago, yet the deep scent continued to linger.
It was the Buddhist Power of the monks. An energy whose achievement varied depending on how deeply one understood the Buddhist Law. Likely, all the martial monks of Shaolin mastered Buddhist Power.
I felt my mind, which had been dizzy due to internal injury, become somewhat peaceful. One of the functions of Buddhist Power was the stabilization of the mind and body.
I felt as if I wanted to carry Beom Cheon around with me like a protective charm.
In truth, I still could not believe it. Returning to the past? Does that even make sense?
Furthermore, he said there is more than one regressor. If I cannot be the only one to hold the advantage of regression, does regression even have meaning...?
No, actually, there were a crazy amount of advantages. Even at this moment, the locations of numerous elixirs were popping into my mind. Thinking about eating them all by myself made me feel good, but then I thought of my dear Snow Ginseng, and my heart began to ache.
It was then that Beom Cheon opened his mouth.
[Either pout or smile, just pick one. No one is unaware that you are crazy.]
"I'm crazy? Me? Hah. I can't believe such words are coming out of your mouth. What is that supposed to mean, coming from a fake monk who drinks liquor and eats meat? That is why you are still regressing. You incompetent fool."
[Namu-Fuck You. No, Namu Amitabha.]
Mentioning liquor suddenly made me want to drink, so I said to him.
"A guest has arrived, and you won't even bring out any liquor? The host has no manners. You must be an orphan without parents."
[You’re right, I don’t have parents.]
"Sorry."
Beom Cheon let out a sigh, then split open the belly of the Buddha statue behind him and pulled out two bottles of liquor. It was Dukang liquor, a famous drink of Henan. Does he usually drink in secret like that?
Beom Cheon set the table and clasped his hands. His aura was more solemn than when he revealed he was a regressor earlier. For the record, the table had nothing but meat.
"Gratitude to the cursed Shakyamuni Buddha for providing this daily bread. Amitabha."
"A-Amitabha."
I ended up following him reflexively. I grinned and began to drink straight from the bottle. Indeed, a person cannot live without liquor.
Living by the bottle, dying by the bottle. Since this was my way of life, even my mother couldn't stop me. Come to think of it, I was a beggar, so I had no parents.
In this way, various stray thoughts lived within my head, forming a strange harmony. A so-called microcosm.
The Great Hero Hall of Shaolin is a shrine dedicated to the Shakyamuni Buddha, and the thought of drinking liquor right in front of the god's eyes felt quite thrilling.
Beom Cheon, who poured liquor into a teacup and drank, finally spoke.
[An early initiation into the Sun-Drenched Moonlight. The backlash must be no joke? Even if you forced the initiation, you cannot use anything other than the basic Forceful Sword Form and the Swift Sword Form. When night falls, the Inner Demon encroaches upon your body, and your eyes, which mimic moonlight, are accompanied by constant pain as if being pierced by needles... Why did you initiate so early?]
"Things happened that made me. A certain flatfish was being annoying. You should always be careful of ugly fish."
[Sun-Drenched Moonlight. Along with the Heavenly Demon Divine Art of the Sun Moon Divine Cult, it was called the greatest divine art of all time. The Celestial Martial Body is a kind of vessel. An unfathomable body that can contain not only Buddhist Power, Taoist Immortal Qi, and Demonic Qi of the demonic path, which others cannot hold simultaneously. But even the energies of extreme Yang and extreme Yin. The Sun-Drenched Moonlight unfolds based on that diversity of energies.]
"What is it you want to say?"
A lightning-like golden radiance flickered briefly in Beom Cheon's lone eye. It was a clear insight of the Upper Dantian.
[What is it that the Hungry God wishes to achieve? I know that no hatred for the Lord remains in your heart.]
No hatred for the Lord remains in me?
Perhaps that is true. In the end, the only one who could be called my understander was Baek Cheon. Even though our personalities and tastes were completely different.
[Do not treat your body so recklessly. You must know that you don't have much life left. It is due to the initiation into the Sun-Drenched Moonlight.]
"Do we not have regression though?"
In a split second, an aura like a great mountain erupted from Beom Cheon's body and pressured me.
The energy of the divine art called the Prajna Grand Ability pressed down on me like the palm of a Buddha.
[Hungry God. The opportunity called regression is not given indefinitely. The one who sends us, including this humble monk, back to the past is not a god.]
I bit my teeth amidst the pressure that seemed to crush my entire body and asked.
"Then who is it?"
[A being closest to a god.]
Tap.
The sound of the teacup setting down on the tea table was slowly heard. Beom Cheon met my eyes with a profound gaze and said.
"Since ancient times, this world has called him the Invincible One. Even the miracle of regression is nothing more than a trick played by the Invincible One."
Is that so.
If that is the case, what is the reason I should cooperate with them?
Apart from killing the Sect Leader, it must be true that the Invincible One is giving me another chance.
Beom Cheon slowly shook his head again.
[I cannot stop the regression.]
"What?"
[No matter what I do, I cannot stop the regression.]
I looked at him for a long time, lost for words. Somehow, I saw a future version of myself reflected in Beom Cheon after an eternity had passed.
* * *
I lay in the Guest Hall where Shaolin's visitors stay and chewed over the conversation with Beom Cheon. The stupid gambler lying next to me was sleeping soundly.
The Great Hero Hall is not where the Abbot of Shaolin rests. Eight pavilions called the Eight Guardians of the Temple always surrounded and protected the Abbot's room.
Beom Cheon was likely sleeping comfortably by now.
The conversation I had with Beom Cheon after that was also quite important.
News that another guest of Shaolin would participate in the competition, his nagging for me to get strong quickly because he would pass down the Muscle-Bone Strengthening Scripture to me, his request to look over the training of the martial monks, and even the word that Peach Blossom Land would come looking for me to kill me.
The most important part was that Peach Blossom Land was targeting me, but the words added to it made my head spin.
'It will be on a dimension completely different from the Jianghu journey you have experienced so far.'
Are the Three Hidden Figures really that strong? My head began to ache a little. There was so much to do that I couldn't even afford to delay.
The Jianghu I inhabited was already so desperate, so what would the things to come be like?
As I repeated various stray thoughts, the cool night air tickled my head. Feeling the texture of the scratchy blanket, I soon fell asleep.
* * *
Shiny bald heads were sprawled across the sand of the training ground. The blazing earth heated their heads, making beads of sweat pour down.
It was the training ground called the Thirty-Six Chambers of Shaolin.
The training ground of the Beggar Sect was also of a considerable size, but Shaolin's training ground seemed twice as large.
'Just how much money did they pour into this?'
The Shaolin Temple is located halfway up the Shaoshi Peak of Mount Song. They built a temple in the middle of a mountain and created such a training ground.
It is something impossible without the support of financial and human resources.
I nudged a shivering octopus lying on the ground with my foot, fueled by a sudden surge of unnecessary anger.
"It's well-cooked. I'd take a bite... but I can't. I'm afraid the baldness might be contagious. Haha."
"......"
"Not laughing at that, really?"
In an instant, the dozens of martial monks lying on the ground flipped over and began to laugh. I wore a satisfied smile and shook a bell.
It was a bell I made when I taught disciples in the past. The so-called 'Laughing Bell.'
Fortune comes to those who laugh. My disciples were idiots and all ran away, but the baldies of the great Shaolin are a collection of geniuses, so they should be able to understand this heart.
Well, even if they hate it, what can they do? The Abbot of Shaolin has completely delegated authority to me.
I put the bell I was ringing back into my robe and said to them.
"It seems the Abbot was not pleased with the pathetic way you were training. For your information, the Hall of Martial Arts Master who was supposed to save you monks has gone on a long-awaited vacation and is out playing. Therefore, for the next few months, I intend to look over the training of you monks. Anyone with an objection, raise your hand."
Come to think of it, I was only now giving a proper explanation after putting them through some thoughtless training. The Shaolin monks were experiencing this from a person brought by the Abbot without even knowing why.
One baldy raised his hand. Since I am a merciful and sage ruler, I said to the clueless monk.
"Alright, speak."
The baldy jumped up from his spot. He looked to be about the same age as me. That meant he was a second-generation disciple of Shaolin.
"This humble monk has one question. Are you indeed the successor of the Beggar Sect, Wang Cho the Drunken Sword? If so, your age cannot be much different from the monks in this temple, and I ask out of concern whether you are sufficiently qualified to teach us."
I sneered inwardly at his words and replied.
"You're talking in circles, but in the end, you're just saying you're annoyed, right? You don't like a delinquent of a similar age coming in and acting like a teacher."
"This humble monk never thought such a thing......"
"Shut up. If I say so, it is so. You doubt my qualifications? You dare to doubt the martial arts teacher appointed by the Abbot? You, do you know your crime? You specifically get hell-training. Got it?"
I watched the horrified baldy repeatedly recite the Buddhist prayer "Amitabha," and then looked at the other baldies who were now sitting in a lotus position.
Shaolin monks draped in yellow robes.
Most were second-generation disciples, and first-generation disciples were mixed in here and there. I, who had never even taught the disciples of the Beggar Sect, ended up teaching Shaolin monks. This too must be the mysterious nature of life.
I hesitated for a moment, then pulled the iron sword from my waist and twirled it.
"What I'm going to teach isn't anything particularly grand. It is a process of raising the 'Grade' of the body. It looks easy, but it is the most difficult task."
"The 'Grade' of the body? Shaolin emphasizes external arts, so we are accustomed to the horse stance and can easily run dozens of laps around the training ground."
I shook my head at the monk's words.
"By nature, a person tends to underestimate their own limits. Once your strength is drained, you'll know. When training is over, you should feel like you're going to die, not refreshed. Isn't that right?"
In truth, with my current level of martial prowess, it was difficult to face all of them. It wasn't called the thousand-year Shaolin or the Nine Sect Alliance for nothing. They too were geniuses who made a name for themselves in their own regions.
However, I was the former strongest under heaven. Lacking prowess can be supplemented by experience.
The Shaolin monks still looked at me with eyes of distrust.
"A martial artist should not only chatter with words."
I pointed the tip of my sword at them and spoke.
"Come at me all at once. I shall face all of you."