novelraw Chapter 14 : I Hate Bald Heads
Chapter 14 : I Hate Bald Heads
Chapter 14: I Hate Bald Heads
I had experienced the martial arts of Shaolin to the point of exhaustion in my past life.
Since I could even perform several of their techniques myself, what more was there to say?
Therefore, suppressing these downy-haired runts who had only shaved their heads was nothing to me.
In an instant, a Shaolin monk approached me.
Judging by the way the fist pressure soared strongly from his pulled-back fist, he was a first-generation disciple.
After lightly dodging that fist strike by merely turning my head, I buried my fist into his abdomen.
Simultaneously, I turned my head and rhythmically dodged the attack of a rude monk thrusting his foot out by using the Drunken Eight Immortal Steps, then immediately sent him flying far away with an upward kick to the chin.
I actually wanted to use a sword while teaching them.
But I gave up because I could not bring myself to cut Shaolin monks with a blade.
Originally, I should have competed with something like a wooden sword, but it had been so long since I had sparred that I had forgotten.
'I have only engaged in life-and-death battles since my regression.'
I told myself I must definitely prepare a wooden sword tomorrow.
Naturally, I dropped the sword to the ground and began to engage in fist and foot arts in earnest.
A single punch from a Shaolin disciple who was a full head taller than me.
I parried the fist flying in with fist-wind by striking it with both hands to divert its flow.
Poison-red palm energy like flower petals fluttered from my palms, obscuring the vision.
It was the Lotus Palm of the Beggar Sect.
Perhaps he had not expected me to divert his strike.
The giant Shaolin disciple, wearing a thick look of dismay, furrowed his brow, and I immediately tilted my head to dodge a kick flying from behind.
I snatched the foot that had slipped past my shoulder and slammed him down.
It was only for a split second that my heart ached upon seeing the baldy planted vertically into the ground from his head with a booming roar.
Another giant fist flew in.
The wind originating from the fist-wind swept back my short hair.
'This bastard's fist strike is quite fierce.'
But that was all.
A fist without accurate distribution of power was nothing more than a child's tantrum.
Against the fist the size of a human face appearing before my eyes, I also struck back, coiling a golden dragon around my arm.
It was the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms, one of the greatest arts of the Beggar Sect.
Kaboom!
Along with a sound like a thunderclap bomb exploding, the giant Shaolin monk collapsed.
I shook my aching shoulder once and spoke to the hesitating Shaolin monks.
"No more? Why do kids these days have so little spirit?"
* * *
'Amitabha.'
Hyewon, a second-generation disciple of Shaolin, secretly recited a Buddhist prayer with his eyes tightly shut.
It was because he could not bear to look at the gruesome sight unfolding before him.
The geniuses of the thousand-year Shaolin were being toyed with by a single delinquent.
It was not that his martial prowess was peerlessly high.
No, while it was true he was exceptionally outstanding compared to his peers, it was not to the extent that he should be beating down the martial monks of Shaolin like this.
'The successor of the Beggar Sect. The Celestial Martial Body.'
He had heard much about the martial talent that was said to appear once in a thousand years.
Even so, was this not too much?
Whoosh!
A violent wind brushed past Hyewon's smooth head.
The face of his senior brother who was the strongest among the second-generation disciples and practically guaranteed a spot among the Four Great Vajras in the future, was being miserably crushed by the beggar's footwork.
The Four Great Vajras referred to the four strongest monks in Shaolin. It was a position that could never be won through something like gambling.
The most peculiar things were the delinquent's eyes and mouth. Aside from his skin being pure white for a beggar, what was one to make of those silver pupils?
He was not a Westerner, nor was he born that way. It appeared to be the aftermath of mastering a divine art, but no martial art in the world produced such an effect.
'Creation of a martial art?'
Surely not. No matter how much of a Celestial Martial Body he was, could he already manifest the capability of a Grandmaster?
That was the talent of the first Heavenly Demon of the Sun Moon Divine Cult, the founder Bodhidharma of Shaolin, the founder Zhang Sanfeng of the Wudang Sect, or Lu Dongbin, who was called the Immortal of the Sword.
They were called the Greatest of All Time and enjoyed power and glory even after death. It was a position that a mere successor of the Beggar Sect should not dare to covet.
And that mouth! That mouth was the problem.
"You even went bald to master martial arts, yet you're losing to a mere beggar brat? You went bald and didn't even gain strength. If so, it's because your faith is lacking. Strike your heads with a wooden fish. It'll make a clear sound... is it because there's nothing inside that it makes such a clear sound?"
How could a person say only such spiteful things?
Could this kind of brawling even be called training?
It was then that a first-generation disciple who had been lying down sprang up and rebelled.
"Our hair doesn't stop growing, we shave it!"
That timid rebellion was silenced by a single kick from the successor.
"Shut up, baldy. If I say you're a baldy, you're a baldy. If you're a monk, you should be banging wooden fish and reciting scriptures; what's all this fuss about fighting? If you think I'm wrong, throw a stone at me. Oh, no stones? Then try headbutting me with that head of yours. Haha."
"......"
"Laugh."
Once again, the successor pulled the bell from his robe and rang it, and the Shaolin disciples began to flip over and laugh like a conditional reflex.
Considering they did it even though they shouldn't have had the strength to swing a fist, it seemed the successor's "hand-taste" was quite spicy.
It was the kind of stale joke the old Abbot in his room might tell.
It was certain he had not learned etiquette or morality from his parents.
Had the internal injury reached his very marrow? He had truly gone senile.
Hyewon shut his eyes tight once more and recited a prayer.
"Amitabha!"
As a disciple of Buddha, what kind of blasphemy was this?
There were thoughts one should have, and there were stray thoughts one should not. That man was a demon.
In an instant, a heavy shadow fell over Hyewon's face.
It took only a split second to realize it was a worn-out leather shoe.
Kaboom!
With a violent roar, Hyewon's consciousness sank beneath the surface.
* * *
I wiped my greasy hands while touching the monks' heads.
"Why is this guy resting all by himself?"
He was a bastard who had been bothering me for a while. A baldy who stood there alone just reciting prayers without even attacking. Bastards like this cannot achieve greatness in martial arts.
It was because he had no persistence and could not go mad. It was a pity, considering that those who reached the Fusion Realm, that is, the state of peerless masters, were all mad.
In this world, the only normal people are me and Baek Cheon.
I put the old iron sword that was rolling on the ground back at my waist and kindly pulled the baldy who was planted head-first into the ground back out.
I suppose I have come to understand the heart of a farmer. How beautiful is the joy of harvest.
Muttering such nonsense, I sat alone in the training ground and waited for them to wake up.
Even if it looked like this, I actually held no grudge against the monks. Why did I say this you ask?
It meant I had not simply beaten them. A technique of Meridian Massaging was included in every attack I landed on the Shaolin monks.
Meridian Massaging refers to a technique of rubbing the opponent's acupoints to heal internal injuries.
However, a master of my level could change it slightly. I massaged the acupoints to widen the meridians.
Meridians are the passages through which inner Qi travels. Having wide and sturdy meridians was the natural path to becoming strong.
To think I had to provide training that couldn't be received anywhere else to these baldies. I let out a deep sigh.
These ignorant baldies likely didn't know, but there was also a reason for the provocations.
By nature, when a person gets angry, their body tenses up.
Since my purpose was to drain their strength until they surpassed their limits, the provocation was...
Fine, it was because I was a bit annoyed. Happy?
I looked up at the clear morning sky.
The clouds flowing majestically were round and looked just like the monks.
I hate bald heads. But so what?
* * *
Time passed and passed, and before I knew it, the day of the competition arrived. Since only verified experts participated in the competition, it was decided to skip the preliminaries and start from the round of sixteen.
Since it seemed certain that Peach Blossom Land was coming, I decided to continue staying at the relatively safe Shaolin.
When the Shaolin monks' training was over, I also looked over Hwa Pyeong's swordsmanship, but it made me so angry I felt I couldn't do it anymore.
'This damn bastard, those chrome-domes understand ten things when I say one, yet this guy, who claims to be a direct disciple of the Hao Clan Leader, only understands one when I say ten.'
It couldn't be helped. The disciples of the Hao Clan Leader numbered over dozens.
The current Alliance Leader's personality was to teach a little if he found someone interesting and then give them a suitable position.
Regardless, the Thirty-Six Chambers of Shaolin were crowded with pilgrims who had visited the temple for the first time in a while.
Shaolin monks were quickly building a sparring stage made of precious lapis lazuli.
I sat next to Beom Cheon on the platform where the Shaolin high-rankers were and rested my chin on my hand while watching the disciples.
Watching the baldies working while sweating profusely made me naturally wear a satisfied smile. Is this the mindset of a mother? To make me, who has no parents or children, realize a mother's warmth?
Due to my training method, the disciples had reached the state of Buddha. In that case, was I not the Shakyamuni Buddha?
Beside Beom Cheon and me were the Four Great Vajras, the pride of Shaolin, and the elders who led this great sect, and behind them, the Ten Monks of the Ten Commandments who were responsible for Shaolin's discipline were glaring at me.
They seemed to have seen the way I ran wild like a delinquent in the training ground.
In truth, I didn't care whether they glared or not, so I smirked and looked at the sparring stage.
Before long, two second-generation disciples of Shaolin were standing with clenched fists, waiting for the opening of the competition.
In an instant, Beom Cheon stepped into the air as if treading on a lotus.
It was the Nine Grades of the Lotus Pedestal, a movement technique famous as a secret art of the Shaolin Temple.
The nine steps said to have been walked by the Shakyamuni Buddha when he was born.
The old monk, standing high in the sky, spoke with a benevolent smile.
[I now announce the opening of the competition.]
A short speech was the end of it. With the shouts of the pilgrims, the Shaolin monks began to collide.
I watched the two Shaolin monks swinging their fists violently and thought to myself.
One had mastered the Great Strength Vajra Palm among the seventy-two arts of Shaolin, and the other had mastered the Supreme Grand Ability.
I turned my gaze to look at those who had set up stalls and were gambling on the matches.
'I'm jealous.'
If I had gone there, I would have swept up all the money. Unfortunately, I couldn't move easily due to my status as the successor of the Beggar Sect.
I wanted to rush out right away.
But for the sake of the Sect Leader and Baek Hae's faces, I decided to endure it a little. I am a person who considers others this much.
The result of the match was obvious. The monk who mastered the Supreme Grand Ability would win.
Since there was a long way to go before my turn, I closed my eyes and sought sleep under the guise of mental training.
How much time had passed? The buzzing noise grew louder. Was a famous Shaolin monk coming out to fight? Judging by the sound, it seemed to be a strong person of the level of the Eighteen Arhats.
I stretched my body and rubbed my sleepy eyes while looking down at the sparring stage.
On the left side of the stage stood a Shaolin monk with the character for 'Law' engraved on the chest of his yellow robe, wearing a confident expression. He was one of the Eighteen Arhats, the main force of Shaolin.
To his left.
A girl scanned the crowd with arrogant eyes. Short legs and small arms. It was an utterly disadvantageous physique for a distance-closing fight. She looked too young to be considered a martial artist.
Long black hair fluttered elegantly. I looked at that sight and involuntarily let my mouth hang open.
The girl, meeting my eyes, furrowed her brow as if displeased and stepped onto the sparring stage. A cute face that still had its baby fat.
Lightning-fire sparked from the girl's entire body in an instant.
It was the characteristic reaction of Lightning Qi Arts.
In the blink of an eye, a streak of blue lightning was carved across the massive sparring stage. The sparring stage made of lapis lazuli broke with a thunderous roar. At the end of that long path lay a pitiful Arhat.
The eye technique called the Sun Moon Piercing Technique unfolded from my eyes immediately. There was no time to even perceive it properly. Grabbing the face of the triumphant baldy with her tiny, fern-like hand, she immediately slammed the Arhat into the hard floor of the sparring stage.
Only cold silence lingered in the training ground, and I spoke to Beom Cheon as if gnashing my teeth.
"You crazy bastard, that's Matchless in a Single Strike."
The Hungry Wolf of the Dark Heaven Society.
An elite force of the Dark Heaven Society selected by Baek Cheon and a master of the previous generation, a woman who had become young through Rebirth of the Bone and Marrow.
She too was a master of the Life and Death Realm.