The old monk, who claimed to be a scholar monk, possessed astonishing martial skill.

If only he had sufficient inner energy, I suspect I would have had a tough time dealing with him.

So really, I had no choice.

“Hu, huhuhu…”

“We truly did our best, Master Monk.”

“Amitabha… While this monk was unconscious, you could have tied me up.”

“Do you think we didn’t try? After the first time you sprang at us the moment you regained consciousness, we tried tying you up, wrapping you in heavy baggage to restrain you—everything.”

But he escaped each time in the blink of an eye and came charging again.

He had no inner energy and was in that old, worn-out body—yet I still had no idea how he could manage it.

Seorin said that even though he used only his bare body, his movements contained a level of insight so profound that even she couldn’t fully understand it at a glance…

Impressive? Certainly.

A pain in the neck? Also yes.

He broke free every time he woke up and demonstrated flawless techniques.

It was only when we drew near to Shaolin, the peak of Songshan rising behind me, that he finally came to a stop.

Which brings us to now.

Tang Sowol handed the monk a bowl of porridge, prepared by the merchant group.

“You fainted and woke up seven times over four days. Please eat something.”

“Hm. Thank you. And… I apologize. It seems I misunderstood a bit.”

“A bit…?”

I’m the one who had to spring into action every time the monk rose up with that unmistakable intent in his body.

Thanks to that, I hadn’t gotten proper sleep for four days either.

Tang Sowol’s voice carried a slight edge, and I couldn’t blame her.

“A small misunderstanding doesn’t mean my regret is small.”

With a strangely persuasive tone, the old monk gratefully received the porridge.

Though there were only about three hours left to reach Shaolin, the merchant group had decided to camp here for the night, weary from travel and with nightfall upon us.

The merchant leader’s earlier boast of making our journey comfortable wasn’t an empty promise—his guards and porters had prepared everything.

Sleeping rolls, night watches, porridge like the one Tang Sowol had brought over, and even meat roasting over a fire for us to share.

Everything was taken care of, and yes, it was indeed convenient.

“Ah, and please don’t think we’re just hogging the good food, Master Monk. You’ve gone four days without eating because of all the fainting…”

“I understand. And with this old body already creaking all over, adding meat to an empty stomach would be difficult to digest.”

“…Wait, are monks even allowed to eat meat?”

“I’m not at Shaolin yet, am I? For now, I’m a wandering monk who lives off alms. I eat what I’m given—I can’t afford to be picky.”

“Still, meat seems a bit…”

“That’s a common misconception. Unless the meat is seen, heard, or suspected to be killed specifically for the monk—that is, if it doesn’t violate three pure meats (samjeongyuk)—then it’s permissible.”

“Three… what now?”

Even with everything I’ve learned from Seorin since before my regression, Buddhist terminology is still beyond me.

As I blinked blankly, Tang Sowol leaned in and grinned brightly at my face.

“Fufu. Sir Cheon, have you ever heard of samjeongyuk?”

“First I’ve heard of it.”

“It refers to the three conditions under which monks may eat meat: they must not see the animal being killed, not hear it being killed for them, and not suspect it was killed for them. If all three are met, it is considered pure.”

“Well explained, young lady. That’s correct. Depending on the sect, some prohibit meat entirely, and others impose stricter rules—but fundamentally, those three are the standard.”

“Sects, huh… Come to think of it, the Mount Emei Sect is technically a Buddhist sect, but unlike other temples, their nuns are allowed to grow their hair.”

“Emei was built atop Mount Emei, which originally had Taoist roots. It’s a peculiar place with rules that apply only to women—but yes, similar enough. Besides, how do you think Shaolin’s warrior monks built such sturdy bodies in the first place?”

Indeed.

Shaolin is renowned for its deep, pure inner energy techniques—but their external arts are just as profound.

No way could they achieve that physique on grass and grains alone.

Soon, the monk emptied the entire bowl of porridge and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Whew… I feel alive again.”

“I was careful to go easy on you, Master Monk.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining. I meant that literally.”

The old monk chuckled dryly, then brought his palms together toward us in thanks.

“Amitabha. This humble monk’s Dharma name is Gakjeong. And what might yours be?”

“Ah, so you are Master Gakjeong. I am Cheon Hwi of the Sichuan Tang Clan.”

“And I am Tang Sowol. As for those two… we’ll introduce them when they return.”

Tang Sowol pointed toward Seorin and Seol Lihyang, who had gone to fetch our meals.

For the record, no one asked them to.

With our arrival at Songshan imminent, the announcement that all remaining food would be shared had excited them.

It made sense for Seol Lihyang, who was still of an age to be food-obsessed…

But why Seorin?

A part of me wondered if this was another side effect of Rejuvenation.

At least… I hoped that was it.

I shook off that impolite thought.

Now that I think about it, Seol Lihyang had been oddly irritable with Seorin after her identity reveal, but the two seemed to be getting along again.

It made me smile, recalling my past life.

Then Gakjeong spoke again, more solemnly this time.

“Once more, I must apologize. Due to my misunderstanding, I nearly returned kindness with hostility.”

“No need. I was grateful for the opportunity to witness such skilled martial arts.”

I didn’t regret asking Seorin to abduct me, nor forfeiting the duel at Dragon and Phoenix because I’d sustained internal injuries from defeating the Black Sky Sword Sect Master.

But I did regret not having seen more martial styles from various sects and clans.

So seeing Gakjeong’s techniques was a great opportunity.

Though it was all physical movement with no inner energy, he showed me a lot.

Particularly how he lifted objects many times his weight with only slight movement—it was a feat that couldn’t be shown unless one had mastered the control of pure strength.

“Martial arts… what I used cannot truly be called martial arts.”

Gakjeong shook his head with a self-deprecating smile.

A reaction I found hard to understand.

“If what you used wasn’t martial arts, then what is? If a lack of inner energy disqualifies one from martial arts, then all second- and third-rate fighters are just flailing their arms pointlessly.”

“When a baby mimics their parents’ words, it’s called babbling, not conversation.”

“Still, your so-called ‘babble’ was quite impressive.”

“Hm… but ‘impressive’ is defined by the goal you pursue, isn’t it?”

He looked off into the distance with a bittersweet smile and stood up with the empty bowl.

“Once again, apologies for troubling you, Sir Cheon. You mentioned visiting Shaolin?”

“Yes. Since our party is what it is, we’ll only be viewing the shrine at the foot of Songshan—not the main temple.”

I shrugged. Gakjeong seemed to think for a moment, then pulled something from his robes.

“Take this.”

“…What is this?”

A small jade Buddha statue.

It fit in one hand, yet its detailed craftsmanship suggested it was no ordinary object.

“When you arrive at Shaolin, show that to the gatekeeper and tell them you were invited by Monk Gakjeong. They’ll let you tour the main temple—with your companions. Of course, only the areas open to guests.”

“But isn’t Shaolin a no-women zone?”

“That rule exists because of the temptation young monks face. It’s not the guests’ fault, but a matter of their own lack of discipline—so they hide behind precepts. Tsk tsk.”

“Still, rules are rules. Can you really ignore them so easily?”

“That statue will suffice. It’s a rare item, so don’t sell it. As for me, I’ll clean up and lie down again. I may be old, but a little exertion really takes its toll.”

Grumbling, Gakjeong took the empty bowl and headed for the riverside to wash up.

Soon after, Seorin and Seol Lihyang returned with our meals.

“Hmm? What’s with the mood, Cheon Hwi? You said you’d talk to that monk when he woke up.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Looks like we’ll be allowed into Shaolin’s main temple.”

“???”

Seol Lihyang tilted her head in confusion.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what just happened either.

The misunderstanding was cleared up, but somehow I had even more questions now.

Still, I couldn’t interrogate an old man who had fainted seven times.

Especially not when I was the one who kept knocking him out.

I’ll just ask again tomorrow.

***

When I woke the next morning, Gakjeong was gone.

I asked the porter who had been on watch—he said Gakjeong left at dawn, telling them not to wait because he had other matters.

“I didn’t sense anything… Senior Seorin, did you?”

“I felt him moving away in my sleep. I thought he’d be back after relieving himself, not that he meant to leave entirely.”

So he concealed his presence so well that only a Flowering Stage martial artist could even faintly sense it…

Who the hell was he?

“Does it matter that much? Who that Gakjeong monk really is?”

“…Not really. It just nags at me.”

I shrugged and toyed with the jade Buddha in my hand.

“Well, if this statue actually gets us in, I suppose the monks at Shaolin can explain it.”

“Indeed. If they let you in, it means they know what it is.”

We arrived at the village at the base of Songshan, where we parted ways with the merchant group.

Then we headed directly to Shaolin Temple.

After climbing a long flight of steep stairs, we arrived at the gate and showed the small jade Buddha to the gatekeeper monk.

“H-how did you get this?!”

“A monk named Gakjeong gave it to us on the way here… why? What is it?”

“…You didn’t know? Monk Gakjeong is the former Abbot of Shaolin.”

“…Excuse me?”

I blinked in disbelief, prompting the gatekeeper to elaborate as if I’d misunderstood.

“In the past, he was known in the martial world as Punisher Asura.”

…That’s one terrifying title.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep