The early morning bustle swept through Shaolin Monastery.
Young novice monks rushed to their elder brothers, chatting noisily.
“Big Brother! Master Japyung has arrived!”
“…!”
Who is Japyung?
A child who joined Shaolin at the tender age of five. A boy from the Namgung family.
In fact, Japyung had been seen in Shaolin for less than a few months, yet all the monks there, consciously or unconsciously, kept an eye on him.
Because of his father.
Namgung Cheolbin, the Sword Sage.
An undisputed and acknowledged first-rate figure of the land, now become a public enemy and a martial disgrace.
Although Japyung has renounced worldly ties, as long as he is human, one cannot help but worry.
“Master! Big Brothers! Younger Brothers! Have you all been well?”
A vibrant shout reverberated through the Shaolin Sect, a roar so powerful it seemed unbelievable for an eighteen-year-old.
Japyung ascended the steps of Shaolin, wearing tattered monk robes. His bearing was dignified, and his figure stood tall and broad, steps of one who has firmly grasped his path in martial arts.
The first to welcome him was Venerable Iguksa, the abbot of Shaolin, and one of the Twelve Arhats, Bulojun.
“Amitabha! It’s been a long time!”
“Yes, have you been at peace during this time?”
“Indeed! Come inside quickly, we have much to discuss.”
“Haha, it’s a relief to hear you’re well.”
Venerable Iguksa gently guided Japyung by the shoulder. With no reason to refuse, Japyung simply followed.
Long-time brothers, juniors, and even family, despite his renunciation of worldly bonds, their faces passed through Japyung’s excited mind.
Until that moment, Japyung, drunk on the euphoria that the long seclusion was finally over, was filled with excitement.
*
“…Pardon?”
“Umm… It does seem hard to accept, doesn’t it.”
“Please, could you repeat that? I must have heard it wrong.”
“No, Japyung, you heard right.”
As if a large stone had dropped, Japyung’s spirits sank heavily. An incomprehensible oppression made his breathing difficult.
“Nonsense!”
“Japyung.”
“Us… our father, who does Your Holiness think he is! What exactly are you implying?”
“Japyung, remain calm. Have you forgotten that the foundation of Shaolin is the Immovable Mind?”
Though these words were spoken, Venerable Iguksa fully understood Japyung’s reaction.
A child who regarded his father as an idol, separated from light for thirteen years in a closed meditation.
And now, learning that this father of his was in fact a hypocrite who treaded the path of wickedness.
How overwhelming must this shock be? It was surely beyond imagination, Venerable Iguksa thought.
“This has been verified by the authorities.”
“There must be some misunderstanding!”
“Japyung!”
“Enough! What exactly are you saying? How dare you mention ‘martial arts’ in relation to my father!”
“Ping-ah…”
“Even though I have renounced the world, am I to completely sever my sense of family ties?”
Venerable Iguksa looked at Japyung with regret. Japyung’s usually clear eyes were now wavering, having lost their direction.
“And aren’t you a monk who has already severed ties with the secular world? Stop calling the Swordsman ‘Father’ henceforth.”
“Great Master!”
“Indeed! This is not something that can be resolved by your stubbornness. You must not deny reality and must instead look ahead!”
“…!”
“The current martial world is chaotic. Brigands and bandits are rampant across the land, and with the emergence of the Black Path Sect ‘Saryeonhoe,’ the common people suffer. It is not the time for you to be distracted.”
“But… father…”
“Your appearance here today is no coincidence. All things happen under the Buddha’s will, and your emergence in this world is, in fact, heaven’s will.”
Japyung lowered his head sadly, overwhelmed by the bewildering statements he couldn’t possibly accept.
Looking silently at such Japyung, Venerable Iguksa slowly arose from his seat and stepped over the threshold.
“You seem to need some time to think.”
“…”
“I’ll give you three days. When your mind is settled, come out.”
With that, Venerable Iguksa quietly left. Time is the universal remedy. Though shocking now, eventually, it would be accepted.
As Venerable Iguksa moved to leave peacefully for that day, anticipating the eventual acceptance,
Goooo-.
“…!”
He froze at the eerie current emanating from where he had just left.
For a peerless master who held his position among the Twelve Arhats, this was a rare experience.
‘Dae-ryeok Geumganggi (Great Vajra Energy)…?’
Though unstable, it was a formidable and explosive force. Though familiar with Shaolin martial arts for his entire life, Venerable Iguksa wasn’t surprised by this.
What shocked him was something else.
‘Even me…’
Could this youth, having inherited the bloodline of the Swordsman, yet with only thirteen years of training, have grown to the point of posing a threat to him?
Unbelievable. Yet in this instant, Japyung’s energy matched his own.
Even with the ability to quickly grasp enlightenment, his internal energy should have been absolutely insufficient.
‘How on earth…’
In this moment of doubt, Venerable Iguksa recalled a passing question from his master thirteen years ago, a question from Shinseng, one of the Five Peaks of the martial world.
“How many Sohwandans remain in our school?”
There was no need to search. It wouldn’t explain Japyung’s great internal energy if it weren’t the Sohwandan.
‘Briefly… isn’t this somewhat dangerous? It still may be manageable with my current level, but if time passes…’
Though he trusted Japyung, a disciple of Shaolin, Venerable Iguksa sensed a genuine case of heart demons within Japyung’s mind at this point.
Though the Shaolin martial arts are renowned for their safety, is there truly anything absolute in this world?
Even Hyulseung, known as one of the Martial Seven Demons, fell into demonic obsession due to an overdose of a powerful pill.
And furthermore…
‘This is the bloodline of Namgung… ever since the time of Changcheon Sword King… hmm…’
Japyung’s lineage left Venerable Iguksa with no choice but to worry.
‘We cannot allow another tragedy like this to occur.’
Feeling the chilling energy running through his body, Venerable Iguksa headed in a certain direction.
‘I must consult with my master.’
At the end of the path stood a small, unremarkable hermitage.
“…Such is the situation.”
Venerable Iguksa was kneeling, explaining something.
Before him sat an old monk, head cleanly shaved and emaciated, with hands held in prayer.
“Amitabha…?”
“What should we do?”
“Japyung… The son of the Swordsman…”
Though now in complete seclusion from the martial world, this elder monk was once called Shinseng, who once dominated the martial realm.
Even three years after he retreated and practiced abstinence, Shinseng’s influence still brought peace to the southern regions of Henan.
Until the Swordsman emerged, three years ago until the monster called Sal-seong appeared, he was the acknowledged number one martial artist.
That was the identity of the elder monk.
“I was rash.”
“Master…?”
“Plunging into demonic obsession, I made the mistake of undergoing the abstinence ritual prematurely. Had that not happened, the situation wouldn’t have worsened this much…”
“How can you blame yourself, Master?”
“Show the way. I must see.”
Shinseng broke his long-held immobile posture. His knees, which had only known the lotus position for nearly three years, straightened out.
Though his face was scarred, they were hidden among the deep wrinkles, making it hard to recognize the once muscular figure he was.
Shinseng, who hadn’t left the hermitage for a very long time, immediately headed to the Shaolin Monastery.
Young novices didn’t recognize him, but those who had been with Shaolin for more than five years all showed deep respect by holding their palms together, even if Shinseng was accompanied by the current abbot. No one made an issue of this hierarchy, not even Venerable Iguksa.
“That place, yes.”
Looking at the annex emitting an unsettling aura, Shinseng cast a gentle gaze.
Indeed, his perception at such levels wasn’t exaggerated; even to Shinseng, an unusual presence covered the surroundings.
Though it wasn’t exactly bright.
“Is there a problem?”
Creeeak…
“…Great Grandmaster?”
Surprised by Shinseng’s unexpected appearance, Japyung, who had extinguished the light and remained in the corner, widened his eyes.
Shinseng entered with a gentle smile.
Silently signaling to Venerable Iguksa with a hand to leave.
“You’ve grown, Japyung.”
“…! How did Great Grandmaster come here…!”
“Why, is this a place I cannot visit?”
“That’s not it, but…”
“I heard you’re troubled.”
After briefly cleaning the floor with his palm, Shinseng sat down with a thud. Japyung approached and sat politely, folding his hands in front of him.
“Although I’m not your direct master, isn’t the teacher of your teacher’s teacher also considered a master?”
“Is, is that so?”
“Speak. Your troubles. A disciple’s troubles must naturally be heard by their master.”
Though he already knew everything, Shinseng gave Japyung a chance to speak.
Because once hidden worries are brought up, they ease the burden on one’s mind. Shinseng, who once listened to the private sorrows of the Swordsman himself, was fully aware of this fact.
“…So…it…has come to…this… I…”
“Thus it is.”
“To be honest, I cannot believe it.”
“I see.”
“My father is not such a person. Others might not know, but as a family member, I do. Even before he became the Sword Sage, how benevolent my father was. The fact that all of it was pretense, it simply doesn’t make sense.”
Like a fish meeting water, Japyung poured out his grievances to Shinseng. The depth of thought and emotion contained therein showed how much anguish Japyung had endured in the brief interlude since Venerable Iguksa left.
“I empathize with your words.”
“…! Great Grandmaster also agrees! Then, why do other people…”
“Japyung-ah.”
A low tone from Shinseng pierced through Japyung’s emotional turmoil. Japyung instantly regained his composure.
“All sentient beings encounter hardships and trials.”
“Is it not an offering from the Tathagata?”
“Your father, it seems, has carried an excess of these hardships.”
“Ah…”
“Language, the art of words, is devious and powerful. Why did Bai Qi, praised as the greatest during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States period, commit suicide? Why did Yan Fa of Zhao, who never lost a battle, get dismissed? Why did Shang Yang, who turned Qin into the most powerful state, get falsely accused of treason? Were they all lazy and stupid? Those who never lost in every battle, those who led their nations to their peak and established laws that are still exemplary today? That’s the power of words. They blind the eyes and ears and cloud judgment.”
“Does…that mean…”
“Your father faced the trial of the sword early on. Escaping the trial stained with blood and violence, it’s now the trial of language that he faces. It’s a harsh fate.”
“So…what then…?”
“Why does a monk exist if not to guide those who walk in darkness? And why bother training in the Way and learning the Buddha Dharma if not to assist in this manner? Isn’t it?”
“Ah!”
A realization dawned upon Japyung. Much younger and more spirited, yet with eyes remarkably similar to his father’s.
“If you feel certain that the path you believe is right, then you must walk it without doubt. Though occasional reflection is necessary, considering the nature of your father, I don’t think you’re treading on a wrong path.”
Each word was profound advice that became the flesh and bone of the current Japyung.
In reality, Japyung, who had been solely focused on seclusion since the age of five, was unfamiliar with worldly matters. He didn’t know of the cruel fates that awaited those Shinseng mentioned from the Warring States.
But.
“Now that you are a monk, help in the way a monk should. I, this old monk, will assist you wholeheartedly, as far as my chosen non-interference with the world allows.”
“Yes!”
One thing was clear.
Just like Namgung Cheolbin protected him by steering away the encroaching Blood Cultists.
Now, it was time for him to protect his father suffering under false accusations.
