Chapter 277: The Requirements of the Abbot (3)

- Thud!

Just one stomp.

With that single move, 108 Arhat warrior monks collapsed, their eyes rolling back.

'!!!'

The entire hall was instantly engulfed in silence.

No one could have predicted this outcome.

Among the many symbols of Shaolin, one of the most renowned is the 108 Arhat Formation, performed by these Arhat warrior monks.

Many masters had challenged it to prove their martial prowess, but none had ever achieved such a result.

Who could have imagined that without even laying a finger, just a single stomp would bring the Arhat monks down in the blink of an eye?

"Just one stomp, and this happened..."

"Is such a thing even possible?"

There is a saying that a single step, or one movement, can command all.

This is referred to as Gunlimbo (君臨步)—the step of dominion.

At that moment, a single thought crossed the minds of all the Shaolin monks.

'…The Blood Demon's Gunlimbo!'

No one could yet know that this phrase would come to represent the Blood Demon of this era.

The shock was so great that Master Kyung-oh, the Head Monk of the Scripture Pavilion, snapped out of his daze and shouted at the monks.

"Mu… monks! Check on the Arhat monks!"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

The monks rushed to the collapsed Arhat monks.

They hurried to assess what had happened, but to their astonishment, all the Arhat monks had simply fallen asleep—without exception.

When shaken awake, the monks awoke in confusion.

"What in the world…?"

"Are you saying I passed out?"

"All I remember is sudden darkness before my eyes…"

All of their reactions were nearly identical.

And it wasn't just the Shaolin monks who were shocked.

Sama-yeong excitedly turned to her father, Sword of Mount Wolak, Sama-chak, and exclaimed,

"Father, did you see that? With just one stomp, Young Master brought down Shaolin's proud 108 Arhat Formation!"

Though she had lived in seclusion since childhood and had little experience in the martial world, she at least knew how formidable the 108 Arhat Formation was.

That's why she had been worried about Jin Un-hwi's challenge.

But when the formation collapsed helplessly from just one stomp, she couldn't help but be amazed.

Yet, despite his daughter's excitement, Sama-chak remained silent, his expression grim.

'He infused energy into his stomp.'

Having broken through the wall beyond the wall, he instantly realized what kind of energy it was.

If one infuses energy into sound from the lower dantian, it can create a sonic impact—like the Lion's Roar or sound-based attacks.

But even so, this result was simply beyond understanding.

'Witchcraft…? No, there wasn't the slightest trace of such an aura. Even if it were sorcery, to bring down so many Arhat monks…'

It defied common sense.

The Arhat monks weren't weak enough to fall prey to mere tricks.

They were chosen for their exceptional talent and mental fortitude among Shaolin's young monks.

And yet they all lost consciousness in an instant.

'The fact that he mastered both cold and strong yang energy... just what exactly happened in that brief moment?'

That's how astonishing it was.

If even someone like Sama-chak was this shocked, how must the Shaolin Abbot Jingak, who proposed the challenge, feel?

'What kind of technique is this…?'

It didn't feel like sorcery or an illusion.

On the contrary, it felt like pure and refined energy.

Which made it all the more absurd.

'...What a disaster. Sigh.'

Abbot Jingak, who had just moments ago been wide-eyed with shock, now couldn't hide his feeling of futility.

He had thought this would be a clever move that would stir the pride of the notorious Blood Demon.

But who could have foreseen this outcome?

[Amitabha. Abbot, what will you do now?]

The telepathic voice of Master Kyung-oh echoed in Jingak's ears.

[Will you truly release Donor Sama and hand over the Great Elixir Pill, the temple's treasured medicine? One of the two was already promised to the Indian monk in exchange for a new sutra. Why did you make such an agreement…]

Even if he had ten mouths, he had no excuse.

He had wagered the Great Elixir Pill to lure the Blood Cult's leader into the challenge.

He believed only a tempting reward could entice someone to accept such a difficult condition without bloodshed. Who knew it would end like this?

[This monk's mouth brought calamity. Amitabha.]

No matter how you looked at it, it was deeply regrettable.

Just then, another voice reached Abbot Jingak—this time from Master Kyung-jong, head of the Sutra Pavilion.

[...Abbot. A promise is a promise.]

[I know.]

Abbot Jingak had no intention of breaking his word.

The absurd condition was meant solely to avoid bloodshed.

Even if Shaolin held the upper hand in strength, facing two of the Five Great Villains would surely lead to massive casualties.

The temple is a sanctuary of the Buddha.

Such a disaster could not be allowed.

'I thought we had secured enough time to reform him… But the fact that he accomplished this so easily means that Donor Sama's fate is not yet exhausted. It must all be the Buddha's will.'

If that's the case, then what use is there in keeping him confined?

The Abbot himself had spoken the promise aloud—he must keep his word, for the honor of Shaolin.

Though it pained him deeply to part with Shaolin's treasured Great Elixir Pill, he hid his emotions and, with a solemn face, brought his hands together in a respectful gesture and addressed Jin Un-hwi.

"Amitabha. Truly... a remarkable skill you possess, Cult Leader."

He couldn't bring himself to utter the word martial arts.

His mind must be in turmoil.

He couldn't outright deny it, but if he did, that would mean the arhats were subdued by mere trickery, not martial skill — a disgrace they'd have to bear. So rejecting the outcome would be difficult.

"A promise is a promise. You may take Sama Shiju with you."

He spoke solemnly, without showing emotion, but somehow, he looked bitter.

I smiled gently and addressed the abbot, Master Jingak.

"You seem to have forgotten about the Daehwandan."

"Ahem."

At those words, the Ten Victorious Disciples and the Eight Protectors frowned.

That was understandable.

It was incredibly difficult to produce, and even after thirty years, they had only been able to make one or two pills — Shaolin's greatest elixir. The thought of handing it over must have been maddening.

Even monks free of material desires would consider it the greatest honor to receive Shaolin's treasure, the Daehwandan.

"Gamyun, go to the Bodhi Garden at once and bring the Daehwandan..."

"Amitabha. Abbot, please wait a moment."

"Chief Librarian?"

The one who stopped him was none other than Master Gyeongjong, the Chief Librarian of the Sutra Pavilion.

– What's he up to now?

Who knows?

Abbot Jingak looked puzzled, then frowned and seemed to be listening intently to something.

Judging from the movement in Master Gyeongjong's throat, he must have been receiving a telepathic message.

He groaned slightly and looked conflicted, then reluctantly nodded.

In a low voice, I asked them:

"Why have you suddenly become so reluctant to give up the Daehwandan?"

Abbot Jingak shook his head.

"A promise was made. How could I go back on my word?"

"It just seemed like you and Master Gyeongjong were having a serious conversation, so I asked in case it was troubling you."

Even if they were reluctant, the Daehwandan was mine by agreement.

At that moment, Master Gyeongjong stepped forward and clasped his hands together in greeting.

"Amitabha. The Daehwandan pill is already considered yours, so it's not a matter of displeasure."

"Then do you have business with me?"

"Having witnessed your astonishing abilities, I couldn't help but admire them. I now truly understand the phrase, 'There is always a higher sky.'"

Flattery with excessive goodwill always comes with a motive.

What is he trying to achieve with these words?

I looked at him silently. Gyeongjong glanced at the senior-most monk among the Eight Protectors behind him and said:

"Gamyun, please go to the Bodhi Garden and bring one Daehwandan and two Sohwandan pills."

"Two Sohwandan pills? Amitabha… Chief Librarian, did I hear that correctly?"

"You heard it right."

"But how could we…"

"With the Abbot's permission, please go."

At his words, the senior monk Gamyun hesitated for a moment, then bowed and flew off somewhere.

I couldn't hide my curiosity.

"Why are you bringing the Sohwandan pills?"

Gyeongjong smiled gently and replied.

"I was regretful that I didn't get to properly test myself against you, so I humbly made a small request to the Abbot."

"And that request involved the Sohwandan?"

"The Sohwandan is merely a bonus."

"A bonus?"

"If you permit, I would like to make a proposal."

As expected — goodwill with a hidden purpose.

He simply couldn't bear to lose the Daehwandan.

Was he going to offer a trade for the Sohwandan pills instead?

"My business with Shaolin is concluded. I see no reason to accept your proposal."

"It's not a bad deal for you. If you win, you'll receive two additional Sohwandan pills. And if you lose, you'll still receive them instead of the Daehwandan."

I laughed heartily at that.

"Hahaha! So, in the end, you're reluctant to part with the Daehwandan, aren't you?"

No matter how flowery the language, the goal was to reclaim the Daehwandan.

Unlike other elixirs, the Daehwandan, refined over decades, was known to offer the full potency of its ingredients.

For an ordinary person, it meant a life free of illness and extended longevity. For a martial artist, it meant gaining the inner strength equivalent to a full 60-year cycle of training.

The thought of such a powerful elixir falling into the hands of the already formidable cult leader must have been unbearable.

"I won't deny it. But even if it's not quite the Daehwandan, the Sohwandan is also an incredibly valuable elixir."

I had heard as much.

One pill could grant ten years' worth of internal energy.

It too was difficult to produce and scarce in quantity.

But its value didn't compare to the Daehwandan.

"I mean no offense, Master, but I've already secured my father-in-law and gained the Daehwandan. I have no desire for more. I shall be going now."

As I turned to walk towards my father-in-law and Sama-yeong, Gyeongjong called out hastily:

"Amitabha! If you don't wish to, of course you may refuse. But this is not only about the Daehwandan."

"Then what is it about?"

"Our temple is the root and symbol of orthodox martial arts. But with just one move, you shattered the 108 Arhat Formation without even giving them a chance to act."

"You want to restore Shaolin's honor?"

"Exactly."

"How honest of you."

Restoring their honor and reclaiming the Daehwandan — that would be the ideal outcome for Shaolin.

And by offering the Sohwandan pills regardless of the outcome, they were also trying to appear magnanimous.

I shook my head and said,

"You really don't want to let me refuse, do you?"

"Then you'll accept my proposal?"

"If you accept mine in return."

"Your proposal?"

"Just a small condition — let's say an add-on to your own."

At this, Gyeongjong furrowed his brow and asked cautiously:

"...What is it?"

"Two pills are too few. Make it three."

'!?'

Gyeongjong looked dumbfounded.

He had probably struggled to get permission for just two.

Now I was asking for three.

"Sir, two Sohwandan pills grant twenty years of internal energy. Isn't that enough…?"

"But the Daehwandan grants sixty years' worth."

"Still…"

"If you want to wager the Daehwandan, it should at least be worth six Sohwandan pills. But I understand that would be difficult for Shaolin."

"Sigh…"

"So, let's make it three."

At this, Abbot Jingak stepped forward with a disapproving expression.

"Cult Leader, three is too much. If you win, you'll already have the Daehwandan and two Sohwandan pills."

"Sixty years can't simply become twenty."

"How can you calculate it so plainly?"

"Three pills. If so, I accept the proposal."

At my firm stance, Gyeongjong looked to the abbot, visibly troubled.

"Sir… the Sohwandan isn't just any elixir..."

"Three."

"Please reconsider…"

"Three."

When I stood my ground, Abbot Jingak, clearly displeased, looked at Gyeongjong, who sat in silent agony as if on pins and needles.

After some thought, the abbot finally said in a reluctant tone:

"…Very well."

As he gave in, Sodamgeom burst into uncontrollable laughter.

– What a devil. He actually upped it to three?

I didn't need to accept the proposal at all — so a little negotiation was fair.

Three Sohwandan pills and one Daehwandan — that amounted to the internal energy of ninety years.

I struggled to suppress my laughter.

Then I asked calmly,

"So what shall we compete in?"

Gyeongjong, eyes burning with determination, responded:

"Though I am still lacking, I pride myself on never losing when it comes to inner energy."

As expected, he challenged me with what he did best.

Having mastered the Three Shaolin Classics — the Muscle-Tendon Transformation, the Marrow Cleansing, and the Nine Yang Scriptures — Gyeongjong's inner power rivaled even my father-in-law, the master swordsman Sama-chak.

His pride was understandable.

"Inner energy… very well."

I readily accepted and held out both palms before him.

But Gyeongjong shook his head and said,

"Amitabha. You must have expended considerable energy earlier against the 108 Arhats. Allow me to give you time to recover."

"No need."

"If we proceed now, you cannot back out."

"You needn't worry."

At that, Gyeongjong clicked his tongue and extended his palms.

His eyes gleamed with the resolve to reclaim everything with this one match.

And so, the internal energy duel between me and Master Gyeongjong began.

---

Half a sijin later (approx. 1 hour):

As the three figures calmly walked out of Shaolin's main gate, Abbot Jingak spoke to the monks with a voice full of restrained fury.

"Spread salt over every spot those men stepped on."