Chapter 275: The Qualification of the Abbot (1)

"You've mastered Yang Qi internal energy?"

Sama Chak, my father-in-law and the Sword of Mount Wolak, couldn't hide his astonishment.

Mastering the Yang Qi inner power was no easy feat.

It disrupts the delicate balance of Yin and Yang within the body.

Breaking that balance causes internal disharmony and eventually shortens one's lifespan.

The most well-known examples of such dangerous constitutions are the Nine Yin Severed Veins (九陰絶脈) and Great Yang Severed Veins (太陽絶脈).

These rare constitutions, found perhaps in one out of tens of thousands, suffer shortened lives due to that imbalance.

Yet, some eccentric masters managed to overcome it.

They created martial arts specifically to counteract the imbalance.

Among them is the renowned Goo Yang Jin Kyung.

However, what I trained in—Seoleum Hwayang Seonmu—was different.

From the beginning, it cultivated balance between Yin and Yang, making it far more stable than arts that favor only one polarity.

"...A Daoist-style energy cultivation technique, I see."

My father-in-law could deduce the type of energy cultivation just from the flow of Qi.

He was, along with Man Bakja, one of the most knowledgeable in all of the martial world.

"Where on earth did you learn such an elite technique—"

"Please refrain from speaking. You'll need to focus."

Goooooo—!

The Yang Qi energy from Hwayang Seonkwon began to seep into his meridians.

I was flushing out every last trace of the cold Qi that remained inside him.

'They left just enough for him to survive…'

Whoever used Goo Yang Jin Kyung to drive out the cold must have been a master of delicate internal energy manipulation.

It made sense now why Shaolin was regarded as the origin of orthodoxy.

Once the cold that had reached his marrow was completely expelled, things progressed rapidly.

Twitch!

His meridians began trembling as if they had been waiting for this moment.

'As expected.'

He was my father-in-law, after all.

Even with sealed acupoints and cold penetrating his marrow, he had quietly gathered his strength.

When he said he would return once the cold was driven out, he had meant it.

Like how tiny particles form a mountain, he concentrated his gathered energy to a single point—

Pak!

One of the golden needles embedded in his acupoints popped out.

With just one acupoint unsealed, the flow of energy became smoother.

Then, as if waiting, he directed energy toward the other golden needles blocking his acupoints.

Papapapapapak!

Six needles popped out at once.

Incredible.

To so easily unlock all seven sealed acupoints...

Having removed the embedded golden needles, my father-in-law began to circulate his inner energy and restore his strength through focused breathing.

"Young Master!"

Sama Yeong called out to me with a deeply emotional expression.

She had been terrified she might have to leave her father behind again.

"Let's keep watching."

Her father had begun meditating immediately to restore his energy quickly.

It was likely because he knew he would need his full strength to escape with us.

I turned my gaze toward the cave entrance.

"Is something wrong?"

"As expected of Shaolin."

"Huh?"

I could already sense a large number of figures approaching.

They must've summoned nearby monks.

Since I had to buy time for my father-in-law to recover, I would need to act as his guardian for now.

"Stay here and protect him."

She understood what I meant and nodded.

With a trembling voice, she said:

"Thank you."

"There's no need."

He was to become my family.

How could I expect gratitude for protecting him?

Leaving them behind, I walked outside the cave.

There, I was greeted by around fifty monks, forming a blockade in front of the sealed cave.

The monks were clearly flustered at the sight of me emerging from within.

"It's really the Blood Demon..."

"The Blood Demon has infiltrated the main temple!"

"How could something like this happen...?"

"Amitabha..."

As the head of the Demonic Cult, I was considered the de facto leader of the demonic sects.

And here I was—right in the heart of Shaolin, the symbol of righteousness.

To them, it was nothing short of a catastrophe.

One monk, a middle-aged man who seemed to be of higher rank, stepped forward.

"Amitabha. This is a sacred place of the Buddha and the heart of orthodoxy. Even if you made a formal request, entering would be difficult. How could you trespass like this?!"

He couldn't hide his anger.

I responded with force in my voice:

"Shaolin has imprisoned my father-in-law, the Sword of Mount Wolak, in the Golden Prison. How can I possibly ignore that?"

"Your father-in-law?"

"You don't mean Sama Chak?"

My words sent ripples through the monks.

Apparently, the monks chanting in the cave hadn't explained the situation fully.

It made sense—they were more concerned with the fact that I had infiltrated Shaolin.

Though confused, the middle-aged monk soon shouted:

"Even if that were true, there is still due process. How can the head of a sect act so recklessly?"

I almost laughed out loud.

Shaolin had long severed ties with the secular world.

They were more closed-off than any other sect.

They were known to never bend to outside pressure.

Would they even entertain a request from someone like me, their ideological enemy?

"This matter is not something to be discussed with low-ranking monks. I'll wait for the Grand Master of Shaolin."

My words enraged the monks.

"Have you ever seen such arrogance?!"

"You think the Grand Master would converse with a demonic heretic like you?"

"If you don't back down immediately, you will be punished!"

Even so, their protest held a certain dignity.

Well, if I intended to back down, I wouldn't have come.

I stepped forward and raised my sword finger seal.

Just taking a step caused some of the monks to flinch in caution.

Chak!

I lightly traced a line on the ground with my finger, creating a sharp mark.

The monks couldn't hide their confusion at this sudden gesture.

I then raised my voice:

"Let this be a warning. Until the Grand Master arrives, anyone who crosses this line—consider it a wish to meet the Buddha in person."

"This man...!"

Pah!

Perhaps enraged, the middle-aged monk charged at me.

Despite their reclusive ways, if he was called one of the Five Great Evils, he must've had considerable skill.

His movements were impressive—his punch soared with the majesty of a dragon.

This must be one of Shaolin's famous fist techniques: Dragon King's Soft Fist (龍王柔拳).

"Hyaaap!"

His strength and technique were impressive—but he had picked the wrong opponent.

Without moving from my hands-behind-my-back stance, I lightly kicked a small stone on the ground toward him.

Thud!

"Urgh!"

The stone, flying like a cannonball, struck him in the chest.

With a scream, the monk flew backward, tumbling across the ground until he passed out cold.

'!!!'

The monks' eyes widened in astonishment at the scene.

It seemed they hadn't expected me to strike down a rock without even touching it.

"I clearly warned you not to cross this line."

I said with a commanding presence.

Perhaps intimidated, the monks' faces began to darken.

Realizing the overwhelming difference in our martial prowess, they didn't dare to attack recklessly.

Just then, a loud roar of voices was heard.

"Hyap!"

The sound came from the direction of the Arhat Hall beyond the monks.

From there, 108 monks dressed in orange robes, each wielding a staff, were approaching in unison.

"It's the Arhat monks!"

"Waaaaaah!!!"

The monks cheered at their arrival.

Most of these newly arrived monks were elite martial artists, and among them were some true masters at the peak of their art.

Roughly, it looked like an 80-20 ratio between the elites and the top-tier ones.

'The 108 Arhat Monks.'

So these were the famed 108 Arhat Monks.

They were said to have mastered the 108 Arhat Formation, the most perfect formation among all of Shaolin.

It is said that no one has ever escaped once caught in the 108 Arhat Formation, such is its terrifying reputation.

But they were not the only ones arriving.

—What's that? Their whole bodies look like they're plated in brass?

As Sodam Sword said, monks wearing only lower garments and with bodies shining like brass were also approaching.

They wore expressionless faces like emotionless dolls, and once again, the monks cheered at their appearance.

"It's the Eighteen Bronze Men!"

The Eighteen Bronze Men?

I had heard of them.

The origin of the "Indestructible Vajra Body" is said to stem from Shaolin's Vajra Indestructible Fist technique.

Those who fully master the Vajra Indestructible Fist attain a "Vajra body" impervious to blades and swords.

To reach that level, one must endure excruciating training involving special medicinal baths every two weeks for over ten years.

Upon mastering the technique, their skin becomes as hard as iron, and their entire body takes on a bronze sheen.

—Been a while since I've seen them.

The voice of the Blood Demon Sword echoed in my head.

'You've fought them before?'

—Back in the days of the Four Blood Demons, I crossed swords with them. They used something called the Eighteen Bronze Formation. Rock solid and ridiculously difficult to deal with.

So even those have been called in.

It's clear they have no intention of letting me leave here alive.

Just then, another group of monks began walking in through the temple halls.

Unlike the previous ones, they were all middle-aged monks with a strong presence.

Ten of them wore gray robes.

'The Ten Precept Monks.'

They must be the ten monks in charge of the Precepts Hall.

They oversee the ten major precepts monks must follow: no killing, no stealing, no lying, no sexual misconduct, no intoxicants, no abusive speech, no lust, no anger, no greed, and no pride. Within the temple, they rank just below the head abbot.

—There's more coming.

From the southwest hall, eight monks in yellow robes entered.

"Amitabha. We greet the Eight Guardians!"

"We greet the Eight Guardians!"

All the monks respectfully bowed in unison as they greeted the newcomers.

These eight monks served as the bodyguards of Shaolin's abbot. Their appearance meant the abbot himself would soon arrive.

At that moment, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"You've really stirred things up."

It was none other than my father-in-law, the Sword of Mount Wolak, Sama Chak.

He must've recovered more internal energy than expected to appear this soon.

"Are you all right, Father-in-law?"

To my question, he merely snorted.

Having surpassed the "Wall of Walls," he could fully conceal his energy, making it difficult to gauge how much he had recovered.

Still, the reddish hue returning to his face suggested he was in much better shape than before.

"Young master… do you really have a plan?"

Samayeong, who followed behind him, asked with worry in her voice as she looked at the gathering monks.

It was my father-in-law who responded, not me.

"If he didn't have a plan, he wouldn't have drawn this much attention. Did you place allies outside?"

"...He said he came alone."

Her answer made my father-in-law frown.

He must've thought I had set some elaborate plan in motion.

"Is that true?"

"It is."

Hearing my answer, he sighed and placed a hand on his forehead, seemingly pained.

"Then what were you thinking, provoking Shaolin like this?"

"That is…"

"Don't tell me you intended to break through the front lines and demoralize them enough that they wouldn't chase after you?"

My father-in-law hit the nail on the head.

Shaking his head, he said,

"You've underestimated Shaolin's power. Shaolin doesn't just have the 108 Arhat Formation and Abbot Jingak. The truly fearsome one is in the Scripture Hall…"

He was cut off mid-sentence.

All the surrounding monks suddenly pressed their palms together and bowed in unison.

The crowd parted like waves, revealing an extraordinary elderly monk wearing a red robe and holding a golden ceremonial staff.

"You're late," my father-in-law murmured as he looked at the elder.

That man was none other than the head of Shaolin: Abbot Jingak.

'…So the rumors were true.'

There was a saying that the power dynamics of the top martial masters would shift the moment Abbot Jingak took action.

And it turned out to be true.

Abbot Jingak had surpassed the "Wall of Walls."

But what truly surprised me wasn't him.

Standing behind him were two elderly monks in crimson robes, and the one on the left—he was a supreme master just shy of breaking past the final wall.

Meaning, he was even stronger than Abbot Jingak.

My father-in-law whispered to me.

"That man is Master Jinjong, the Head of the Scripture Hall. He is the next in line to be abbot. Since Shaolin's founding, he's only the second to master the Ogyangjing, Yeokgeungyeong, and Sesugyeong all at once. His internal energy is on par with mine."

He didn't need to say it.

Despite not yet surpassing the wall, the immense internal power he emanated was unmistakable.

Who would've thought such a terrifying monster was hiding in Shaolin, which claimed to have severed ties with the outside martial world?

With a sigh, my father-in-law spoke.

"…I'll hold them off. Take Yeong and escape this place with Sword Flight."

"Father!"

"You can't handle this alone. If Du Gong were with us, maybe we'd stand a chance, but…"

"Father-in-law."

"Hmph."

"Please leave this matter to me."

At my words, he scolded,

"This is no time for pride. Take Yeong and go immediately—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence.

I completely unleashed the internal energy I had been storing in my lower dantian.

My father-in-law stopped mid-sentence and looked at me with wide eyes.

"…You've surpassed the Wall of Walls?"

I smiled and nodded.

He muttered in disbelief.

"In just seven months… what on earth happened?"

"…A lot has happened."

Because for me, it wasn't merely seven months.

Leaving my stunned father-in-law behind, I stepped forward, channeled my energy, and shouted in a thunderous voice.

"Shaolin, hear me!"

"Urgh!"

"What the—?!"

At the lion's roar that echoed like thunder, the ordinary monks all instinctively covered their ears.