[TS] Became a Peach Saint – Chapter 277

While teaching Jeon Ho how to drive, I sense someone approaching in my direction.

“Who’s there?”

“An old monk.”

With the sound of footsteps, an old monk in a red robe slowly approaches.

“Grandfather, what brings you here?”

“I thought if we’re going the same way, I might hitch a ride on your cart.”

“Oh, where are you headed?”

“To Sung Mountain, below Luoyang.”

It seems like a typical temple built on a mountain.

“Jeon Ho, is Sung Mountain far from where we’re going?”

“N-no, it’s in the same direction.”

“Really? But why so distant?”

“Uh…”

Jeon Ho glances at the old monk in front of me and quickly looks away.

“No, it’s not…”

“Alright. If it’s not, we’ll see later.”

“Gasp…”

Even after being harshly treated by me, he keeps an eye on that old monk.

“Grandfather, please get in.”

“Thank you very much… but may I ask what this is?”

The old monk, now closer, looks at the 1-ton truck with a strange expression.

“It’s a cart that runs without horses.”

“……?”

The monk, looking at the truck with disbelief, jumps lightly into the cargo area.

“Are you a martial artist?”

“Even monks train in martial arts to protect themselves.”

“More like to kill than to protect, right? You must enjoy wordplay, Grandfather.”

“Huh…”

Bang!

“Gasp!”

As Jeon Ho throws the tied-up guys into the cargo area, they huddle in a corner.

The old monk, watching this, turns his gaze back to me.

“Patron, in martial arts, there is life (活) and death (殺).”

Thud thud!

Knocking on the truck, Jeon Ho, sitting in the driver’s seat, looks back at me through the rear window.

“Everyone’s on, let’s go.”

“Yes, Han So-jeo!”

With Jeon Ho’s reply, the truck moves forward.

Feeling his gaze, I turn my head and see the old monk staring intently at me, ignoring his own words and speaking to Jeon Ho.

“Grandfather, may I light a cigarette?”

“Go ahead. I’m just hitching a ride, who am I to object?”

“Thank you.”

—Click, click.

“Phew— So, what’s this about life and death?”

“Life is for saving, death is for killing. In the end, it all depends on your mindset.”

“Whether a guy dies from a punch or not isn’t about mindset but the force of impact. Force and momentum are equivalent, determined by the product of force and time. You learn that in school, right?”

“What on earth are you talking about…”

“It depends on how much force and time you put into hitting.”

I twirl my fist in the air, and the old monk looks at me with disbelief.

“By the way, Grandfather, what brings you down here?”

“The novice monks are sick. I heard there’s a skilled doctor in Bozhou, so I came down.”

“Oh. But seeing you here, it seems you didn’t find much.”

“Haha, indeed.”

His laughter isn’t joyful but filled with despair.

Novice monks are young monks who haven’t received full ordination yet, so it seems he’s quite worried.

“Sung Mountain, you mean Shaolin Temple, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Since Grandma asked, I guess I have to stop by Shaolin Temple. Should I take a look?”

“Patron, you say? Who is your grandmother to have Shaolin Temple at her beck and call?”

“Grandma is…”

“Han So-jeo!”

The conversation with the old monk is interrupted by Jeon Ho’s voice.

“Why?”

“There’s a group of what looks like thieves blocking the road ahead.”

Peeking to the side, just as Jeon Ho said, there are people blocking the road, each holding a weapon.

“These days, thieves carry rakes instead of swords?”

“What do you plan to do with them?”

“Are you worried?”

“That’s right.”

Even though he’s learned martial arts, why is he so full of sentiment? His eyes are brimming with concern.

“Then I’ll use the Life-Giving Fist I learned from Grandpa to beat them up without hurting them too much.”

“……”

“Haha, Grandpa.”

“Why do you say that, Patron?”

As I slowly rise from my seat, the old monk’s gaze follows.

“Throwing punches is just violence at the cost of one’s character. And why do you embellish it with so many fancy words? Do martial artists always justify their punches as righteous?”

“Amitabha…”

The old monk still only expresses worry.

“If I beat those guys to death to protect the future commoners from exploitation, would my fist be considered Life-Giving?”

“That’s sophistry.”

“Exactly. Punching is inherently full of sophistry.”

***

As Han Ga-eul advances toward the group of thieves, Jeon Ho, who had been in the driver’s seat, gets out and approaches from behind.

Bang!

Jeon Ho performs a fist greeting with a loud sound.

“My greetings are late. I am Jeon Ho, Deputy Inspector of the Murim Alliance, paying my respects to Master Hye Neung of Shaolin Temple!”

“Who is the Patron?”

“I am Jeon Ho, serving as Deputy Inspector in the Murim Alliance.”

“Murim Alliance? Why is an inspector accompanying that Patron?”

Jeon Ho and Master Hye Neung’s gazes turn toward Han Ga-eul, who is walking ahead.

“That person is the renowned Shin Yi, famous in the world.”

“What, what? They look barely of age.”

“How could I lie to you, Master? I have been serving Shin Yi since they were in Hefei. I have witnessed with my own eyes how they treat everything from external injuries to internal injuries, fractures, and even syphilis without hesitation.”

“Hoho… Amitabha.”

Master Hye Neung, who had been watching Han Ga-eul, softly recites a Buddhist chant.

“I couldn’t intervene due to personal grudges, but Patron… no, Shin Yi seems to have a fiery temperament.”

“Quite ferocious.”

“Hoho.”

Master Hye Neung can’t help but laugh at Jeon Ho’s blunt honesty.

“But Shin Yi never touches the weak. I can’t fully understand, but it seems to be their nature.”

From what Jeon Ho has seen in a short time, Shin Yi is a troublemaker, someone who doesn’t know compromise, and a walking disaster.

“But if they were just ferocious, I wouldn’t have stayed by their side.”

“Then…?”

Master Hye Neung asks with a hint of doubt in his short question.

“I still don’t know if they are good or evil. But in my brief observation, they are infinitely weak to the weak and ruthlessly cruel to the strong, to the point of seeming twisted.”

“A person who cannot be judged in black and white?”

“It depends on who’s looking, but the more highly regarded someone is, the more they might appear as a villain.”

“Just hearing about it doesn’t give me a clear picture.”

At Master Hye Neung’s response, Jeon Ho gives a small nod.

Even he found it hard to define Shin Yi in one word, despite having observed him for a while.

“To some, he’s definitely a good person. But to others, he’s probably terrifying.”

At Jeon Ho’s words, Master Hye Neung recalls the scene he witnessed earlier at the inn.

Shin Yi, holding a late-stage spiritual beast in his right hand, while his left hand gently stroked a young fox spirit with endless affection.

“It’s like Mara and Buddha coexisting.”

“It’s a mess.”

“Haha, it really is a mess.”

Master Hye Neung tilts his head and looks at Han Ga-eul.

There, Shin Yi, who had left with a fierce aura, was now soothing a group of thieves and distributing silver coins.

“Hmm…”

As if the task was finished, Shin Yi approaches the truck.

“Han So-jeo, have you finished your work?”

“Yeah. Take the wheel.”

“Yep! I’ll take you to Zhengzhou.”

Jeon Ho, who was enjoying driving, answered with even more enthusiasm.

“No, let’s go to Kaifeng.”

Jeon Ho makes a dumbfounded expression at the sudden change in destination.

The Murim Alliance was located in Zhengzhou, a major city, not Kaifeng.

“Suddenly, why…?”

“Jeon Ho, have you heard about the magistrate of Kaifeng?”

For Jeon Ho, the Murim Alliance inspector, it was a question that required no thought.

“You mean the corrupt official?”

“Yeah. I heard those people are struggling to make a living because of that guy. Starving so much they’ve resorted to eating tree bark and their own flesh, even selling their own children.”

“That’s not wrong. But that magistrate is cunning and has spread money everywhere, making it hard to touch him.”

At Jeon Ho’s words, Shin Yi makes a strange expression.

“But?”

“Huh? Oh, no. If we mess with him, all the surrounding officials and factions will come after us. It’d be like poking a hornet’s nest.”

—Click, click.

“Whoo— Let’s hurry, Jeon Ho. I have an incurable disease where I can’t stand seeing trash worse than me.”

“Patron, are you planning to make enemies with the officials?”

At Shin Yi’s urging, Jeon Ho, heading back to the driver’s seat, glances at Jin Musa, who’s tucked in the corner of the truck, after hearing Master Hye Neung’s words.

“Let’s go quickly.”

“Yes, Han So-jeo.”

“Whoo— Anyway, I was planning to visit the royal palace or whatever after this.”

“Th-the royal palace?”

The royal palace and Murim have always had a tense relationship.

Individually, Murim might have the upper hand, but no one in Murim underestimates the royal family’s power.

It’s not like the royal family doesn’t practice martial arts; in fact, they use their wealth to cultivate a large number of second-rate and first-rate martial artists faster than anyone else.

The only thing Murim has over the royal family is the quality of their martial arts, honed through years of seclusion.

It’s a battle of quality versus quantity.

On top of that, Murim’s inherent exclusivity makes it hard to unite, while the royal family has a perfect top-down hierarchy, ready to jump into a pit of fire at the emperor’s command.

That’s why they maintain a distant, awkward relationship, avoiding direct conflict.

If they clash, both sides will bleed heavily.

This is a topic Murim’s many enthusiasts often chatter about.

The forest versus the imperial court.

At most, there are dozens, and even with disciples in training, it barely reaches hundreds. In contrast, the imperial court has an army of tens or even hundreds of thousands. The scale itself is just too different.

That’s why most of the onlookers willingly raise their hands in favor of the imperial court’s overwhelming victory.

“Patron. No, Shin Yi. Think again. It’s not just about martial artists happily watching the government’s actions from the sidelines.”

“Jeon Ho must have told you. That big-mouthed guy. I’m fine.”

Suddenly, the truck wobbles and then steadies itself.

“Huh…”

Meanwhile, the truck passes by a group of thieves.

“Do you trust them, Shin Yi?”

“The thieves?”

“Yes. Once you’re gone, they might go back to pillaging.”

“Of course. I trust them.”

Han Ga-eul flashes a smile that anyone would find beautiful.

Thwack!

“Shadow. Stick close and take care of any nonsense.”

Creak!

In an instant, a mischievous yet chilling laugh is heard before it quickly disappears.

“Gasp! Ah, Amitabha Buddha. What on earth is that…?”

“Yes?”

The startled eyes of Master Hye Neung glow with a piercing blue light.

“What is that grotesque and sinister thing…?”

“Huh? It’s hard to see since it moves with shadows, but you’ve got sharp eyes, Grandfather.”

“But you saw something you shouldn’t have.”

Creak!

***

“Grand Elder. Are you going out?”

“Going to catch a colt.”

At the words of Grand Elder Hyoma Hyanghyang, Grim Sword strokes his snow-white beard.

“A colt? Hmm… Huh?! I’ll go too!”

As if his worries were pointless, only one colt came to Grim Sword’s mind.

“What? I’m coming too!”

“Me too!”

“Let’s go!”

Changma, Gwonma, and Dokma throw down their playing cards and stand up as if they had made a pact.

The promise they had with the Heavenly Demon had long been forgotten.

“Dokma, why are you talking like that?”

“Ga-eul taught me, you fool.”

“Really? Let’s go to the Great Demon War!”

If the General Commander, who was too busy to be there, had seen this, he would have exploded in anger.