CHAPTER 312

"Uwa! Uwaaah—!"

A sudden commotion broke out in the snow-covered forest. In an instant, Tian Po was sent rolling across the ground, groaning in pain from a distance.

It looked as if his severed shoulder had been driven into the earth.

Jung Yeonshin's eyelids lifted slightly.

His sensory range had significantly diminished. The internal injuries inflicted by the techniques of Divine Male and Female Whips were the cause. Because of this, he had been late in detecting the surge of energy from afar.

By the time he sensed the attack heading toward Tian Po, he had no real inclination to intervene.

He simply felt pleased at an unexpected reunion. Perhaps, after entering Desolate Fortress, he had come to understand loneliness.

'Yoo Hyun…?'

Beyond the bushes surrounding the campsite, within the gust of energy that had struck Tian Po, he saw the shape of flower petals.

It was accompanied by a strikingly familiar essence—Plum Blossom Fist, Violet Dawn Sacred Arts. The refined pinnacle of Nine Great Sects' martial arts.

Had he fully absorbed the Plum Blossom Pill that Jung Yeonshin had refined for him long ago?

The Hidden Dragon of Mount Hua, Yoo Hyun's martial prowess was no longer what it had once been.

Though it paled in comparison to Hundred Steps Divine Fist, the sheer force of his fist wind, launched from an incredible distance, had been enough to send Tian Po flying.

His close friend was advancing, however short his strides may be, walking the long and arduous martial path of the Nine Great Sects—a path Jung Yeonshin was destined to struggle upon by birth.

'Did they call him Shaolin's spirit beast?'

He distinctly heard a voice that had long been familiar. It seemed they had been tracking Tian Po and Gun Yurin.

"You bastard! Who dares—!"

Gun Yurin shot to her feet, yanking the massive sword from her back, while Jung Yeonshin's eyes swept the surroundings. There had to be an unfamiliar creature nearby.

Beasts imbued with spiritual intelligence were exceedingly rare. These were creatures reared with the mystical arts of the Enlightened Clan.

Most had mastered supernatural tracking abilities, though their individual talents varied.

'That one.'

On a branch of a frost-covered tree.

A squirrel was perched there. Its soft brown cheeks were puffed out as it stared down at Jung Yeonshin.

Its glowing, intelligent eyes were unlike any ordinary animal. A glimmer of wit shone in them.

"Come here."

Jung Yeonshin extended his hand, and the squirrel's eyes widened.

The small creature tilted its head repeatedly, cautiously observing him. Then, without hesitation, it leaped onto his palm and began sniffing with its tiny nose.

The feeling of its finely split claws gently pressing into his palm was soft and delicate.

A faint smile curved Jung Yeonshin's lips.

Boom!

A thunderous roar erupted from beyond the thicket. A sudden gust of wind swept over them.

Hwaaak—

Gun Yurin had swung her greatsword. Judging by the powerful shockwave, Yoo Hyun had barely managed to block it. Her rough voice followed.

"You little bastard! Who do you think you are, pulling that swordplay? You really want to die and become a corpse, you ignorant brat?!"

"I have tracked down the one posing as a scholar with one arm! You stole beef from the lower village, didn't you? Shaolin's russet squirrel caught the scent immediately!"

"What?"

"Did you think there wouldn't be consequences? If you play at being a bandit with half-baked martial arts, you'll meet your end at the hands of a true warrior! Today marks the death anniversary of yet another Demonic Faction scum!"

"Beef? When?"

"Don't play dumb. Judging by your level of martial arts, your attire, and your speech, you must be that bastard's master. Right now, you stand before a Taoist of Mount Hua. And as for this monk here, he is one of the Four Great—"

"I only ate wild game? Hey, Tian Po!"

"Evil Cultist Tian Po? You're with Profound Martial Alliance, aren't you?! As expected…!"

"I-I only needed some nourishment, miss! With wounds this severe, I had to eat well to prevent damage to my meridians…!"

"You crazy bastard! You said you were going to the outhouse and stole meat behind my back?! Did you forget I had to debase myself with flattery just to save your life?! I nearly had a heart attack the moment I saw that swordplay!"

"Miss? You must be Gun Yurin, the Phoenix-Killer Red Sword! You're a worthy test for my Plum Blossom Sword—fight me."

"You arrogant brat! Do you think you're Lotus Nezha or something?!"

Sabak.

It was all too noisy. Jung Yeonshin turned as he gently stroked the squirrel's cheek with his index finger.

If Yoo Hyun was even slightly overpowered by Gun Yurin, it would be a disgrace, not just to himself but to the entire Mount Hua Sect.

At that moment.

"Amitabha."

A voice rang out beside him.

A surge of energy spread from the low Buddhist chant, sweeping over Jung Yeonshin's shoulder.

It was astonishingly clear yet solid, evoking the image of a monastery and a wooden prayer bead.

"A peculiar company indeed. Layman, you do not seem to be of the Demonic Faction, so what do you seek from those who so easily disregard the lives of the innocent?"

It was a profoundly pleasant voice. If the sound of a xiao flute could be transformed into human speech, it would be this.

Jung Yeonshin slowly turned his head.

The first thing he saw was a sharply defined ear, then a smooth, shaven head.

The deep orange robe that draped over his figure emanated an air of serenity.

A monk of the Enlightened Clan.

Despite the youthful appearance of his side profile, he did not seem young. Holding a long staff firmly planted into the ground, he resembled a deity of the heavens.

'He traversed this distance in a single step, crossing space itself.'

In the martial world, there were four renowned movement techniques said to allow one to dance upon the clouds:

Eight Styles of the Cloud Dragon, a lost legacy of the annihilated Kunlun Sect.

Graceful Body Technique of the Blood Flame Cult.

Heaven-Piercing Dragon Scales Technique of the Thirteen Celestial Demons.

And lastly, Diamond Immovable Body Technique, passed down in Shaolin.

The word immovable was part of the technique's name. It was the ultimate form of stillness within motion. Though he had seen no movement, the monk had appeared at his side in an instant.

Such a feat was impossible unless his footwork was akin to sorcery.

Sublime yet overwhelmingly intimidating.

'Who in Shaolin is he?'

Jung Yeonshin felt a surge of curiosity. He wondered how he would have sensed this man had his perception been intact.

"The one I seek may be you, layman."

The monk did not look at him. He simply gazed ahead, speaking slowly.

"That russet squirrel is rarely affectionate even towards the young monks of the temple, yet it appears to be drawn to you. It seems you bear a quality akin to my clan. If the children saw this, they would surely be envious. To my lineage, this holds significant meaning."

The squirrel in Jung Yeonshin's hand chewed on something, its cheeks bulging as though filled with acorns.

Jung Yeonshin withdrew his finger from the squirrel's face, his hand dropping slightly toward his waist.

An overwhelming sense of unity emanated from the monk beside him. Even with his dulled perception, the man's presence alone sent alarm bells ringing—undoubtedly a supreme master of Three Flowers Gathering at the Crown, and moreover, one who had mastered Shaolin's divine arts.

Despite the lack of hostility, it was difficult to lower his guard.

"I am called Wonjeok. I have long forgotten my name of the secular world."

The monk spoke.

Jung Yeonshin was deeply astonished.

'The monk who trained facing a wall for a hundred years.'

It was an extraordinary Dharma name. His terrifying martial prowess was widely known.

He was one of Shaolin's Four Great Diamonds.

Within the Nine Great Sects, Shaolin was regarded as the strongest, and Wonjeok ranked among its top five masters.

He was indisputably beyond the Eighteen Arhats, known as Grand Master Wonjeok, a figure respected across the world.

Since the founding of the Ming Dynasty, when bureaucratic restrictions on Shaolin had been lifted, he had remained within the temple, guarding its sanctity for decades.

The Four Great Diamonds of Shaolin had been instrumental in cementing its reputation, and Wonjeok's century-long meditation was a defining part of that legacy.

"May I ask for the benefactor's identity… Hmm, it seems the surroundings are quite noisy."

Suddenly, Wonjeok opened his mouth wide.

And he roared.

"GALL—!"

A powerful surge of energy rippled outward, flattening the shrubs and foliage ahead as if a storm had suddenly descended.

The air roared from all directions, and beyond the dense underbrush, two figures were flung in opposite directions.

At the very moment they heard his voice, they had abandoned their clash.

It was Shaolin's Lion's Roar, one of the temple's signature techniques.

A supreme art of Buddhism—though not one of the Seventy-Two Supreme Skills, it was nonetheless a revered symbol of Shaolin.

* * *

In the martial world, conflicts were often resolved by the hands of the strong.

Gun Yurin, who had been charging at Yoo Hyun with murderous intent, had fallen silent. Sitting somewhat closer to Jung Yeonshin, she glared alternately at Wonjeok, Yoo Hyun, and Tian Po across the campfire.

Her legs were slightly drawn up toward her chest, her arms lazily draped over her knees, exuding a bold air. She was poised to spring up at any moment.

Tian Po, with the refined face of a scholar, looked utterly aggrieved.

"Why me?"

"Shut up, you disloyal bastard."

Meanwhile, Jung Yeonshin locked eyes with the young Taoist clad in white robes.

His cheeks had slimmed down slightly, making the pink plum blossom embroidery on his robe stand out even more. Even the voice embedded in his transmitted speech was more dignified than before.

— …I was genuinely shocked. I can't believe you appeared there. So, have you been well?

— I've been fine. But you were the one who appeared, not me. Anyway, how is Lady Yulha Nangnang?

— Leader? Well, she's recovering well. I had a hard time stopping her from going off to behead the leader of the Tyrant Sword Tribe. She's come up with a new sword form for the Plum Blossom Sword Style. Anyway, it's pure luck that our paths crossed. I stopped by the Gongya Clan while tracking you down, trying to get Galhon to pick up your scent. I ended up here after hearing about a meat thief.

— Scent?

Galhon.

The squirrel was now perched on Wonjeok's shoulder, its eyes closed.

It was said to be a spirit beast raised in Shaolin.

Not only did it help track down commoners kidnapped by martial artists, but it was also known as a reaper that pursued traitorous monks, destroying their meridians and sealing their dantians.

— Fortunately, the Gongya siblings handed over some of your belongings—a torn piece of cloth and fragments of your sword. They had them enshrined in some wooden box like treasures. Both of them. Speaking of which, the Young Lord of the Gongsun Clan apparently kept one of your used swords as a decoration in his room. At this point, you're less of a person and more of a sacred relic, aren't you?

— That's…

— Also, your reputation these days is ridiculous. Right! How did you kill the Zhuge Clan's leader? It was really you, right? What the hell is your martial attainment…?!

At that moment, one of Wonjeok's ears twitched ever so slightly as he sat in meditation.

Yet, the conversation between the two friends continued uninterrupted.

— Don't exaggerate.

— I knew you'd be indifferent. You've set the entire martial world abuzz… Anyway, you said you were keeping a low profile. Are you sure she doesn't know your identity? I feel like I might have screwed things up by making a scene the moment I saw you.

Yoo Hyun subtly motioned toward Gun Yurin with his eyes.

At that moment, she scoffed. She did it so exaggeratedly that even the strands of hair by her ears lifted.

"What are you two whispering about like a pair of half-grown brats?"

"Are you proud that, despite being fully grown, you only managed to fight me to a standstill? Had your friends not been here, my sword would have painted plum blossoms with your blood."

"A standstill? If that damn monk hadn't been here, you'd be—!"

She glanced at Wonjeok, then at Jung Yeonshin, hesitating slightly. Caught between a rock and a hard place, her fingers twitched faintly. The glow of the campfire flickered in deep crimson over the back of her hand.

A conversation filled with banter unfolded amidst the crackling embers, yet the late-winter air surrounding them remained eerily cold.

It was an incredibly ambiguous and unexpected gathering.

Such was the mood of their camp. Martial artists from the Profound Martial Alliance and the Nine Great Sects sat together in one place.

Had it not been for Jung Yeonshin, who needed to accompany Gun Yurin until she found the Slaughter Sect, a fight would have broken out long ago.

"Layman."

Wonjeok, who had been sitting with his eyes closed, suddenly spoke.

The precepts' seal imprinted on his forehead, marked in three sets of two, glowed faintly red. The energy within his body had begun to stir.

A strange pressure emanated from him. The campfire suddenly felt ominous.

— What is it that you seek from those who so easily disregard the lives of the innocent?

It was what he had said earlier.

The compassion of Shaolin was primarily directed toward the common people.

Phrases such as Exterminate Demons and Eradicate Evil, Uphold Justice and Vanquish Corruption were the very slogans that justified the ruthless actions of the orthodox factions against the Demonic Faction.

The swords of righteous martial artists were exceptionally sharp. They showed no mercy to their enemies.

Shaolin was no different. They merely hesitated to accumulate karmic sins. Their fists and staves embodied profound wisdom, purity, and ruthless domination—the very foundation of martial arts.

They had broken the limbs of demonic faction members as if it were a game.

In fact, it was rare to find anyone in the world unfamiliar with the Four Great Diamonds of Shaolin. Time, martial prowess, and renown had made it so.

"I humbly ask you to exchange hands with me. Just for a moment."

"…!"

Yoo Hyun, Gun Yurin, and Tian Po all displayed expressions of shock.

A Shaolin Diamond had just requested a duel. The implications were too weighty to take lightly.

* * *

Wonjeok could hear transmitted speech.

The moment his meditation had surpassed seventy years, his hearing had opened. The Shaolin Abbot called it the beginning of the Six Supernatural Powers.

An extreme sensory perception granted primarily to monks of the Enlightened Clan.

To him, it held no deeper meaning.

Wonjeok had lost his family over a century ago at the hands of a sect affiliated with the Ming Cult, prompting him to become a monk.

On the day he first stepped onto Songshan, and on the day he shaved his head and received his precepts' seal, he had seen the faces of his parents, screaming amidst pitch-black flames.

It was the Three Samadhi True Fire of Heavenly Demon, a power that appeared throughout the ages.

It was an insurmountable force.

To contend with demonic energy and sorcery required a fundamentally opposing force, but Shaolin's martial monks had long been unable to restore Avalokitesvara Azure Steel Palm, an art imbued with divine power.

It had been lost so long ago that even the scriptures in the Sutra Hall failed to provide records of it.

Even the Shaolin Abbot disapproved of reconstructing lost martial arts from scratch. He simply advised monks to master the techniques already present in the monastery.

— You wish to seek out the Radiant Demon Squad… Yes, I knew you would say that the moment you left seclusion. But I cannot let you go alone… The problem is, there are no disciples fit to accompany you. If I ask anyone to attend to you, they'll flee in terror. You should have been kinder in the past.

— What is wrong with expecting a monk to uphold the discipline of a monk? I can travel alone.

— That may be fine for you, but it is not fine for Shaolin. A monk who has spent a hundred years staring at a wall—what refinement or social grace could he possibly have? This old man is greatly troubled.

Wonjeok had ignored his words. He was used to the Abbot's empty platitudes.

Now, after listening to the exchange between the Mount Hua disciple and the youth before him, he was certain—this was indeed the Radiant Demon Squad's leader of Desolate Fortress.

He stood perfectly still.

His stance, though seemingly natural, was flawless. Any monk in Shaolin would admire his martial poise.

And yet.

He had ties with the Demonic Faction for his own purposes.

That was unacceptable. If he truly possessed divine power, he should act in accordance with his strength.

A young one such as him needed guidance. Whatever reason he had for accepting this duel…

A senior in the martial world must act accordingly.

With that thought, Wonjeok prepared the Hundred Steps Divine Fist.

And then.

A strange aura radiated from Lightning Genius. He had unsealed his tightly hidden energy.

Wonjeok furrowed his brow. Even a hundred years of meditation could not calm his mind before this power.

A being of divine energy must fulfill their destiny. Teaching must come first.

However.

Saaah—

The translucent white aura filled the forest, brushing against his skin with an almost sacred touch.

It was too auspicious.

The slowly spreading energy waves sent an overwhelming sense of clarity through his body. It was almost like paradise itself.

Even the Abbot's Supreme Divine Ability now seemed like an excessive, unnecessary display of power.

"Heh-heh… Heh-heh-heh."

Wonjeok's lips slowly curled into an involuntary smile.

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