The Demonic Supreme Sword Novel - Chapter 52

Chapter 52
## Chapter 52: Shaolin Temple (3)

[Is this really the only thing? There must be another motive, right?]

Cheol Woo sent a private vocal transmission to Mu Ho, who was leading the way, while watching him with a sharp, calculating gaze.

[True. I caught wind that if someone provides a substantial contribution to the restoration before visiting the Great Hero Hall, they are granted quarters within Shaolin Temple.]

[Money really is the ultimate power. Hmph, isn’t that a bit biased for a sanctuary dedicated to Buddha?]

A mocking glint appeared in Cheol Woo’s eyes as he kept his gaze fixed on Mu Ho’s back.

[We shall see. Rooms are scarce, and this mountain is overflowing with guests. How could they possibly house every single person?]

[They should just take in whoever showed up first.]

[Some of that happens, but even that has its threshold. Besides, with the Imperial Consort’s arrival imminent, all these arrogant nobles are parading around. Just look at them. They are packed in everywhere, practically stepping on one another.]

Sima Geon gestured toward men walking with heads held high in extravagant silk, flanked by groups that appeared to be bodyguards. There were quite a few such parties.

[Whatever. Do we actually need to stay inside? Attracting this much notice isn’t ideal. It would be better to depart normally and slip back in under the cover of night.]

[The Imperial Consort arrives tomorrow. You saw it yourself—the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the imperial battalions are already stationed at every turn. Shaolin will surely bolster its internal security as well.]

[This is such a nuisance. Boss, are those empty shells really going to be an issue for people like us?]

Cheol Woo tilted his head back, wearing a look of sheer confidence.

[That is exactly why it is a pain. Operating from the inside is simply more practical. It makes it far easier to pick up rumors and information from the others.]

Sima Geon’s tone carried a hint of growing annoyance.

[I suppose that makes sense.]

[It doesn’t just make sense—it is the reality of the situation.]

As their secret conversation concluded, they reached the Western Reception Hall, situated immediately adjacent to the monastery gates.

“One moment, if you please.”

Mu Ho offered a polite bow and stepped inside the building. A short while later, he reappeared accompanied by a middle-aged monk who possessed a gentle, welcoming aura.

“These are the travelers I mentioned, senior brother.”

Following Mu Ho’s introduction, the Master of the Guest Reception Hall, Mu Yo, offered a greeting of profound respect.

“Amitabha! This humble monk is known as Mu Yo.”

“Sima Yeong. And this is my martial younger brother, Woo Cheol.”

Cheol Woo gave a curt, slight movement of his head.

In contrast to Mu Ho, who had been visibly on edge when he first encountered Cheol Woo, Mu Yo’s expression remained perfectly serene.

“My junior brother informed me of your arrival. You have contributed a very significant sum to our restoration efforts. We are deeply in your debt.”

“Think nothing of it. It is a privilege to play a part in such a virtuous cause.”

Mu Yo looked upon Sima Geon with a sense of approval, noting his modest behavior.

“Please, follow me inside.”

Mu Yo escorted the pair into the Western Reception Hall and went on to explain.

“Usually, this hall serves as the living and training quarters for our temple’s younger initiates. However, due to the massive influx of people for this restoration, we have converted it into a guest house.”

The interior was already overflowing with people.

At least a hundred individuals were squeezed into the area, creating a chaotic and loud atmosphere reminiscent of a crowded street market.

When Sima Geon and Cheol Woo paused at the sight, Mu Yo offered a regretful smile and added,

“Your sleeping area is a bit further in the back.”

The spot Mu Yo led them to was the very rear of the hall. It was a tiny area walled off by thick fabric partitions—certainly better than the open floor, yet still quite primitive.

“Hah!”

A sound of sheer disbelief escaped Cheol Woo’s throat. Sima Geon immediately nudged him hard in the ribs and addressed the monk.

“We have been struggling to find a place to stay since we were in Dengbong County. Thanks to your kindness, we no longer have to worry about that.”

“We had to quickly move our disciples’ training equipment to make room, so these quarters are quite lacking. Given your generous gift, you truly deserve a place in the main Guest Reception Hall, but as you are aware, space is extremely limited due to the Imperial Consort’s visit. I offer my sincerest apologies.”

Mu Yo bowed low, his expression clouding with genuine remorse.

“We didn’t come here seeking luxury. If anything, arriving during such a magnificent restoration feels like a stroke of luck. Please do not trouble your mind, monk.”

A flash of bewilderment crossed Mu Yo’s eyes for a split second at Sima Geon’s remark.

‘They arrived without knowing about the Amitabha restoration?’]

Nearly everyone currently at Shaolin had traveled specifically for the event. Naturally, a seed of doubt was planted.

“It sounds as though you were unaware of the restoration project. If I may be so bold, what was the purpose of your visit to our temple?”

Mu Yo asked the question with careful deliberation.

“No grand purpose. We were returning from a business trip in Jeongju and felt compelled to offer our prayers to Buddha. To be honest, we have always heard of the legendary Shaolin Temple of the world.”

“I understand. And what are your impressions thus far? I trust you have not been let down.”

“Quite the opposite. I have not seen everything yet, but the moment I passed through the gates, I realized why the reputation of Shaolin is so radiant.”

“You praise us too highly.”

Mu Yo voiced his gratitude, his face showing a hint of pride at Sima Geon’s continued compliments.

After a few more pleasantries, Mu Yo wished them a peaceful rest and departed. Watching him leave, Sima Geon turned his attention to Cheol Woo.

“We have to be far more cautious.”

“What?”

“Your internal energy slipped out a few times, even if it was faint.”

“I did that?”

Cheol Woo looked genuinely offended by the suggestion.

“Every time your aura spiked, that monk’s gaze became much sharper. He likely hasn’t figured out your true depth yet, but it will certainly cause him to be suspicious.”

“……”

“He is not someone to be taken lightly. Do you recall that expert from the Embroidered Uniform Guard at the entrance? He is on that same level of mastery.”

Cheol Woo’s face grew a bit more serious.

“Is that so? He didn’t give off that impression.”

“That is because he suppresses his presence with great skill. Regardless, stay alert. This is Shaolin, not some minor sect in the countryside. There is no telling how many experts here can sense us. If our true power is revealed, our plan is ruined.”

“My mistake. I got a bit lazy without thinking. I’ll keep it under control.”

Sima Geon’s stern expression softened slightly when Cheol Woo admitted his fault so quickly.

“Good. That is all I ask. Let’s go out. The sun is still up—no sense in sitting in this cramped box. We have more scouting to do.”

“Understood. But what do we do about that fellow?”

Cheol Woo nodded toward a man slumped against the wall in a corner of the room. He kept nodding off as if exhausted, but the two had realized long ago that he was actually monitoring them.

“Pay him no mind. They likely assigned him to watch us. There is no reason to cause a scene.”

Sima Geon gestured toward the path leading back to the temple gates.

“What’s the harm in a little fun?”

“……”

“Hahaha! I’m only joking, just joking.”

Cheol Woo waved off Sima Geon’s icy stare with a chuckle and took a deep stretch as he walked out.

“Haaa.”

A long sigh left Sima Geon’s lips. It came from a dark feeling that Cheol Woo was eventually going to cause some kind of disaster.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
“Kuhk!”

Yang So stumbled back with a choked gasp, looking down in total shock at his stomach.

Crimson blood flowed down the polished steel of the blade that had pierced through his dantian.

“Y-You filthy animal…”

Gnashing his teeth, Yang So grabbed the sword stuck in his gut and slowly tilted his head up.

A figure drew closer, silhouetted by the silver moonlight, his frame covered in countless gashes—some of which appeared to be deep, lethal wounds.

His garments were stained so heavily with blood they were unrecognizable, and with every stride, thick red droplets hit the dirt.

“Kekeke! You really think you’ve won just because I look like this, you idiot?”

Yang So’s expression turned to one of pure horror at the man’s derisive laughter.

“S-Shut your mouth.”

“Years ago, I heard that same phrase so often I grew bored of it.”

The man reached out slowly toward Yang So.

Yang So knew he needed to move, but he found he couldn’t even twitch a finger.

“The job isn’t done until I’m sure you’re a corpse. Get overconfident, and you might be the one ending up in the ground.”

A strange, haunting laugh came from the man as he wrapped his fingers around Yang So’s throat.

“Hehehe! When you see King Yama, tell him the Lightning Strike of the Divine Demon Division sent you there.”

Lightning Strike watched with a cold, detached gaze as Yang So’s body stopped shaking and his eyes turned vacant. Only then did he let go and fall heavily to the earth.

“Damn, this is as far as my legs take me.”

Lying flat on the ground, Lightning Strike stared up at the solitary moon in the midnight sky. Suddenly, a specific face seemed to appear within the light.

“Boss…”

With a faint whisper, his eyelids grew heavy and closed.

As his awareness drifted away, he thought he heard the sound of voices, but they faded into a deep, endless void along with the silence.

“Master! I found another body over here.”

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Even as the night deepened, countless lanterns kept the perimeter of Shaolin Temple as bright as day.

Outside the main entrance, imperial soldiers stood their ground. Out of respect for the monks, they did not move through the temple grounds, but the White-Clothed Hall—set aside for the Imperial Consort—was completely surrounded by the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Shaolin had called upon several times the usual number of monks to ensure nothing went wrong.

Normally, the night shifts were handled by those from the Western Reception and Self-Cultivation Halls, but tonight, disciples from the Nahantang were out as well—a sign of how high the stakes were for the restoration and the royal visit.

However, for Sima Geon, who had left Cheol Woo behind to avoid the eyes of the guards and was now moving solo, these defenses were barely an obstacle.

“That must be the Sixth Patriarch Hall.”

Sima Geon whispered to himself as he glided past the building dedicated to the Zen masters, located to the left of the Heavenly Kings Hall.

“And that is the Guest Reception Hall.”

Behind that structure was the guest area, which was crawling with sentries because of the outsiders staying there.

Passing by, the Sutra Repository came into focus behind the Great Hero Hall.

While much of Shaolin was open to the public, certain areas were strictly forbidden—such as the Sutra Repository.

‘Should I take a look inside?’]

Sima Geon took cover behind a massive ginkgo tree that stood like a natural wall near the repository and thought for a moment.

This was the Mount Tai of the North in the martial world, the place where people claimed “All martial arts under heaven originate from Shaolin.” He felt a flicker of curiosity to see if the claim held water.

After a heartbeat, Sima Geon leaped forward with the weight of a feather.

More than any interest in secret techniques, his main goal was obtaining the Great Reversion Pill to save his sister.

Landing silently behind the repository, where he could see the Abbot’s Quarters, Sima Geon’s eyes turned cold and focused.

‘It looks like a high-level meeting.’]

The shadows of more than ten people moved across the Abbot’s windows, yet only a handful of martial monks were guarding the outside.

It might have looked like weak security for the leader of the sect, but given the level of the masters gathered inside, the guards were really just there for show.

Sima Geon moved toward the Abbot’s Quarters with extreme care.

The monks at the door were elite members of the Nahantang, yet they didn’t catch even a hint of his presence.

With a single jump, Sima Geon reached the left eaves of the roof and began to crawl forward inch by inch.

The distance was short, but the men beneath him were grandmasters who could feel the shift of a single dust mote. He had to move with agonizing slowness.

Once he reached the center, Sima Geon laid flat and pressed his ear against the tiles.

A slight vibration brought the voices from below to his ears.

For the duration of one incense stick, the talk was entirely about the logistics of the restoration. The mood shifted slightly when a new person entered the room.

“I apologize for my tardiness.”

Sima Geon recognized the voice instantly—it was Mu Yo, the Guest Reception Hall Master.

“It is quite alright. You have been working incredibly hard late into the night.”

Abbot Gong Su offered a warm, fatherly smile.

“Not at all, Master. It is simply the responsibility of my position.”

“You have done well. The sheer number of guests has made even my head spin.”

The Master of the Heavenly Kings Hall, Gong Hu, gave Mu Yo a friendly pat on the back.

“Thank you, senior uncle.”

Mu Yo bowed, a soft smile on his face.

“Just a little more perseverance despite the exhaustion. We cannot permit any errors while we have guests in our home.”

“I have done everything possible to house them, but truthfully, our resources are stretched thin. I have lost count of how many people we’ve had to turn away.”

“That is the nature of things. The temple only has so much space. Mu Yo, do not blame yourself—do not let it weigh on you. Just continue your best efforts.”

“I will, Master.”

Gong Su’s gaze, which had been kind toward Mu Yo, moved toward the back of the chamber.

“Nahantang Master.”

“Yes, senior martial uncle!”

The Master of the Nahantang, Mu Ae, jumped to his feet with a shout that echoed like thunder.

“You idiot! Why are you shouting as if you’ve been caught in a crime? How many times must I tell you to keep your voice down?”

Gong Yeong, the Master of the Heavenly Buddha Hall sitting next to him, pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“M-My apologies, Master.”

“Tsk, truly hopeless.”

Gong Yeong clicked his tongue and looked back at the smiling Abbot.

“Abbot senior brother, please overlook his behavior. He has been in charge of the Nahantang for quite some time now, and yet he still hasn’t learned to calm himself.”

Before Gong Su could respond, a lighthearted voice rang out from the side.

“Amitabha! The student is always a reflection of the teacher.”

Gong Yeong’s thick eyebrows twitched as he spun around. But once he saw it was Won Il, the head of the Ksitigarbha Hall and a respected elder, his anger vanished and he looked away sheepishly.

Gong Yeong was a student of Grandmaster Pai, known for having one of the most explosive tempers in the temple. He didn’t dare show any attitude toward Won Il—who, by age thirty, had already mastered thirty-six of the legendary seventy-two ultimate arts of Shaolin and spent years traveling the world to boost the sect’s fame.

“Why that look? Do you want to try and fight me like you used to?”

“N-No, senior uncle. I would never dream of it…”

Gong Yeong bowed, his face turning a deep shade of crimson at Won Il’s teasing.

“Heh heh, how time flies. To see that wild brat finally show some restraint.”

The laughter of the nearly ninety-year-old monk caused Gong Yeong even more embarrassment, but the Abbot’s Quarters were soon filled with the sound of genuine, lighthearted amusement.