Chapter 94

Yuk Seung-wan was flustered.

When he looked down, countless Garden Masters were staring at him.

Their bodies were stiff as logs, and their gazes were full of pleading.

Seeing them, Yuk Seung-wan had a gut feeling.

‘So this is what happens when you say you don’t know!’

Most of the subdued Garden Masters didn’t know martial arts, but a few—like Gwan Hwon—had. It was rare for one man to single-handedly subdue so many, whether warriors or commoners—and the opponent was an old monk.

‘This fellow is Victorious Fighting Monk, for sure!’

His judgment was quick, but the problem was what came next.

What excuse could he possibly offer against the Victorious Fighting Monk?

“Answer quickly. An old man’s time passes faster than a young man’s.”

Jong Haeng pressed him with a subtly threatening tone. His voice was calm; his attitude was not. There was an unmistakable air that, if necessary, he would make Yuk Seung-wan end up the same as the others.

Yuk Seung-wan’s mind raced.

‘Victorious Fighting Monk has learned the whole story? But how? If I deny it…’

I’ll become like the people before me.

‘Then should I say no? What if, afterward, any of the fallen ones confessed even a little of the truth?’

Creating a plausible excuse wasn’t the issue. The problem was he couldn’t align his story with the others.

Yuk Seung-wan had three options.

If I say I don’t know? That won’t work.

If I admit it? It’s over.

If I say no? I’ll end up like that.

It was a true three-front siege.

“What? Can’t you answer?”

Jong Haeng slowly unclasped his hands behind his back.

Until then, Yuk Seung-wan had been flustered, unable to find a proper answer.

At that desperate moment, a whispered telepathic message flew into his ear.

—Say you were acting on someone’s orders!

‘…What?’

—Master Yuk, there’s only one way to escape this! The Garden of Suzhou were all acting on someone’s orders! Saying that is the only way to avoid trouble!

The voice was unmistakably Gwan Hwon’s.

And Gwan Hwon, wedged among the other Garden Masters, lay on the ground with his head raised.

‘How is he sending a telepathic message?’

Just as the question formed, Gwan Hwon—whose gaze met Yuk Seung-wan’s—blinked urgently.

‘Ah! So that bastard Gwan Hwon is pretending to be subdued!’

If he had known more about martial arts, he would have realized a mere retired military officer couldn’t fool the Victorious Fighting Monk’s eyes… but Yuk Seung-wan lacked that insight.

—We cannot oppose Victorious Fighting Monk with our own strength. You must claim a backing he cannot counter to stop Victorious Fighting Monk. Otherwise we’ll all be dead!

Naturally, Yuk Seung-wan didn’t know how to send a telepathic message. Instead, he looked at Gwan Hwon with pitiful eyes, trying to convey his meaning.

‘Who on earth am I supposed to claim as backing?’

Gwan Hwon stared back with a sly look, then sent another telepathic message.

—Drunken Flower Manor! Call out the name of the Bukgung Family’s Drunken Flower Manor!

‘What did you say!’

The unexpected stratagem made the back of Yuk Seung-wan’s head tingle. Though the Garden Masters’ ultimate negotiating target was indeed the Drunken Flower Manor, they were not yet connected to him. Could he use the Drunken Flower Manor as an excuse now?

“How frustrating…! Everyone clamps their mouths shut like clams at my question. Tsk tsk, fine. I’ll go to the next person.”

At that moment, Jong Haeng, having run out of patience, folded his fist and approached Yuk Seung-wan. A sense of resignation rippled through the eyes of the fallen Garden Masters.

With nowhere left to retreat, Yuk Seung-wan shut his eyes tightly and shouted.

“The Bukgung Family! We were acting under the Bukgung Family’s orders!”

A brief silence fell. Everyone in the room showed surprise at the unexpected name.

Jong Haeng asked again in a slow tone.

“The Bukgung Family?”

He felt a twinge of panic, but there was nothing to be done now. As they say, spilled water and spoken words can’t be taken back. A man of principle like Yuk Seung-wan would press on once he’d spoken. Who in the world could hear the name Bukgung Family and not hesitate?

“We were commissioned by the Bukgung Family! No matter how great a monk you are, you can’t intimidate us like this! Not only myself, but all those who lie collapsed here!”

Seeing Yuk Seung-wan defend them, the Garden Masters’ eyes reddened.

‘Yuk Imju… damn, he was a good man.’

‘I always hated him for constantly bragging about money.’

‘I didn’t know he was such a loyal man…!’

In any case, it was only a matter of time before they were linked to Drunken Flower Manor. Only the order of events would change slightly; for now, they should try to survive.

“So don’t trouble us any further!”

Yuk Seung-wan mustered all the courage of his fifty-two years and shouted boldly. His legs trembled a little, given whom he faced, but he stood his ground.

Jong Haeng remained motionless, not even twitching at the boast. His eyebrows were so long it was hard to tell if he was even looking at Yuk Seung-wan.

‘Did it work? It must have worked!’

After all, wasn’t the Bukgung Family people said to fear more than pestilence and war?

However… there was one thing Yuk Seung-wan and the Garden Masters did not know.

High officials and great merchants might be unaware, but gossipers across the Central Plains all knew one fact: Jong Haeng’s sobriquet—Victorious Fighting Monk—was like calling him a Monkey King who couldn’t stop fighting.

If someone displeased him, he wouldn’t hesitate to clash with even Yama, the King of the Underworld. In Shaolin’s history, few monks carried such a peculiar nickname.

Which meant…

“I see.”

Jong Haeng nodded. “Indeed. Otherwise it makes no sense to touch Shaolin’s lay families. Unless you carry an extra life with you.”

“Uh….”

Jong Haeng, the Victorious Fighting Monk. In his sixty years at Shaolin, he had assaulted higher-ranked martial monks 257 times (he insisted they were legitimate duels). He broke the abbot’s repentance order and deserted, only to be caught by the disciplinarians 73 times (he claimed he had merely stepped out briefly). Each time he learned a new art he ‘tested’ it by overturning the Eight Great Halls of Shaolin 12 times (he requested they praise his talent).

Among the venerable monks of Mount Song, there was a secret rumor that all of Shaolin’s safety rules were written in the blood of the monk-warriors who tried to stop Victorious Fighting Monk.

“You dare, while I am alive and awake, claim to have touched Shaolin’s lay families as the Bukgung Family? You know the patrons’ backers well. Everything will be taken up with the Bukgung Family.”

“Uh….”

This… isn’t right?

“Hmm.”

Jong Haeng slipped off the worn upper robe of his kasaya and wrapped it around his waist. Then his bare upper body was exposed.

All who saw him fell silent and swallowed. A compact, sturdy, muscular physique—one that could belong to someone in their thirties or even twenties—contrasted with a surface densely covered in scars: sword wounds, spear wounds, burns. Jong Haeng’s body was a map of past deaths.

Why was he called Victorious Fighting Monk? He did not pick his opponents. Thus he was the supreme fighting king feared even by Shaolin itself.

“I will not punish you with my own hands. Everything will be judged by the Bukgung Family.”

Only then did Yuk Seung-wan realize something strange was going on.

“Wait, just a moment!”

Jong Haeng thrust his fist toward the ceiling.

Bang!

A human fist may be only a few inches—so how could the hole punched in the ceiling be over ten times that? Having pierced the heavens with a single strike, Jong Haeng addressed the Garden Masters.

“Listen, patrons. In Buddhism there are the Ten Kings of Hell. Those who sin by words go to the Tongue-Pulling Hell. At Shaolin, we punish that sin by pulling out the tongue.”

Yuk Seung-wan’s face went as white as paper. Jong Haeng, showing eyes sharp as needles beneath his white brows, continued.

“Be thankful for this moment that you are not Shaolin’s devotees. We cannot mete out Shaolin’s punishments to commoners who do not know martial arts.”

For the first time in his life, Yuk Seung-wan felt his groin grow damp. He was not the only one whose trousers betrayed him at that moment.

“How dare you try to swagger on the Bukgung Family’s backing! Didn’t you know that if the Bukgung Family is behind you, Shaolin is behind the crime as well!”

Jong Haeng’s thunderous shout rang out. Yuk Seung-wan felt like he might faint on the spot.

“Who in the Bukgung Family ordered you!”

“Drunken Flower Manor…”

Yuk Seung-wan answered without realizing it.

Jong Haeng’s gaze turned west—the direction where Taeho was. He looked back at the Garden Masters and delivered one final line.

“You cowardly lot, never meet me again. If I see you next time, you cannot expect Shaolin’s mercy.”

Thud!

Jong Haeng pushed off a strong point and leapt up. From where he pushed off, strong cracks spread like a spiderweb. Suspended in the air, he glanced over the Garden Masters, then kicked off the void and flew west.

Void Step—an ultimate qi cultivation skill that let one run over the air with nowhere to step. None of those remaining could accurately gauge that level… except for exactly one person.

“What have I done…?”

Yuk Seung-wan sighed as he watched Jong Haeng fly like an arrow toward Taiyuan. Judging by his momentum, he had surely gone straight to seek out Drunken Flower Manor Lord. If Victorious Fighting Monk actually went to find him—if he reported everything that had just happened—the situation would swell beyond Yuk Seung-wan’s control.

“L-let’s run. We have to run away…”

Yuk Seung-wan gripped his trembling legs and tried to stand. Then his eyes met those of the many Garden Masters staring at him. Their looks seemed to ask: ‘Surely you’re not going to abandon us and leave?’

“…”

Yuk Seung-wan quietly averted his eyes.

‘I’m sorry.’

There wasn’t even enough time for him to run away alone. There was no time to take care of comrades. To begin with, they weren’t even worth calling comrades, were they?

“I’ll save myself first… ugh!”

At that moment someone rising from a kneel suddenly kicked Yuk Seung-wan. Then, covering his eyes with his palm as if to shield them, he looked west where Jong Haeng had flown and shouted cheerfully.

“Hahaha! Mok-min, now you try a taste of Shaolin’s mad dog! Ehehehehe!”

It was a frivolous laugh that fit the situation not at all.

When Yuk Seung-wan recognized his face, his expression hardened. As if he couldn’t believe it, he raised a finger and stammered.

“Y-you, you are…!”

It was that man—the hooded porcelain-faced fellow.

“Eung-chil!”

He had been the one looking for a place for a young lady in Suzhou. But his demeanor then and now was completely different. Back then he had seemed cringing; now he looked like a wild dog.

Smack!

“Argh!”

Eung-chil kicked Yuk Seung-wan in the face. He was so fast Yuk Seung-wan couldn’t see him until the blow landed.

“Talking like Eung-chil, aren’t you.”

Yeon Mujin pinched his nose and looked at Yuk Seung-wan writhing and shrieking, and at the Garden Masters who stared like sacks of grain struck by pressure points. Yeon Mujin raised his palm in salute to them and spoke.

“Thanks to you, Garden Master, things were resolved easily. I offer my gratitude.”

But the voice was strangely familiar—it was an exact copy of Gwan Hwon’s voice.

“Y-you, you bastard…!”

Only now realizing the truth, Yuk Seung-wan’s jaw trembled.

Yeon Mujin showed the last mercy a human could grant: he drove a fist into Yuk Seung-wan’s face and knocked him unconscious. Until he woke, he’d simply remain in a deep stupor.

“You’ve worked hard in the meantime.”

Yeon Mujin said, looking at the fallen Garden Masters—but he was not speaking to them. He was speaking to himself.

“Watching out for the frog merchant, watching the old man—this trip to Suzhou wasn’t much fun, right? Coming down here all I did was tail people to gather information and pretend to be someone else. I’ve got a lot built up too.”

Yeon Mujin cracked his knuckles and approached the Garden Masters. Crack, crackle.

“The temple may have shown mercy, and the old man might have been bound by rules and unable to touch you, but I am not. My principle is that a bad man should be punished in proportion to his bad deeds.”

The Garden Masters felled by pressure-point strikes could only watch Yeon Mujin approach with wide-open eyes. To them, this man might be scarier than Jong Haeng had been.

“Now, since the world hasn’t punished you, it’s my turn to do so.”

Yeon Mujin simply laughed.

“Prepare yourself; let’s have a little beating.”