The awkward atmosphere dispersed the moment Geum Myeong threw a punch, and the sparring began.

Golden inner energy flowed from his massive body. It went without saying, but it wasn’t body-strengthening qi, nor was he forcibly igniting energy throughout his whole body.

It was simply that the fist energy wrapped around both his fists spread its light across his body in an unusual way.

It wasn’t flashy, nor was it blindingly bright.

The enormous figure radiated a soft golden glow. Even though his fists weren’t aimed at me, and even though I could easily block them if I tried, a strange sense of pressure settled over me.

It felt as if an enormous wall were rushing forward, threatening to engulf the entire space—

“Huh?”

Only now did I realize that Geum Myeong’s hulking body was gliding forward.

There was no upper body movement, so I must have momentarily mistaken it as him throwing a punch from a standstill.

He looked like a charging Buddha statue. Though it was my first time witnessing it in person, I knew the name of that footwork.

“Immovable Wisdom King Steps.”

“Correct. You seem well-acquainted with it?”

It was Gak Myeong’s voice from beside me. Without turning my head, I acknowledged him while keeping my focus on the match.

“It’s that famous of a footwork, after all. You could even say it’s one of the symbols of the Shaolin Temple.”

“A symbol, hmm. It’s understandable to see it that way…”

Gak Myeong’s reaction was somehow unconvincing. Perhaps he noticed my puzzled look, as he gave a faint smile.

“I’ll explain later. For now, it’d be best to focus on the match, no?”

“You’re right.”

It wasn’t every day you got to watch a spar between Seorin, once called the White-Haired Rakshasa, and one of the Vajra Warriors.

I heightened my focus, determined not to miss a single detail.

Though he appeared stiff, Geum Myeong moved with flexibility, unleashing an unrelenting barrage of attacks.

Perhaps it was the softly glowing fist energy, but his punches didn’t look particularly threatening from the outside…

That was only true when judged by the eyes.

Each and every strike, as felt through my open senses, was incredibly heavy—like a mountain bearing down.

And yet, despite unleashing such force, his movements were composed, as if he were simply out for a stroll.

That meant he still had plenty of strength in reserve. Trying to counter with brute force would be a grave mistake.

If it were me, I would’ve focused on dodging or redirecting, searching for any opening.

But Seorin was different.

Geum Myeong’s massive fists, reminiscent of a Buddha statue.

Seorin, standing against them, looked so small she almost seemed fragile. But for her, this was no issue.

Her tiny fists were clenched tightly. Yet, those fists carried a ferocious red fist energy.

She extended her punches toward Geum Myeong’s incoming blows, intercepting each and every one.

An utterly reckless way to respond—yet for Seorin, it was more effective than anything else.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Every time their fists collided, broken inner energy exploded with a loud roar, sending shockwaves outwards.

It looked like a child facing off against a giant without yielding an inch.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought so—awed gasps echoed from those around us, mostly from Shaolin disciples.

Tang Sowol and Seol Lihyang had already seen Seorin use both fists to overturn rivers and split boulders twice a man’s height, so this was nothing new to them.

Despite her small frame, Seorin’s fists held the strength to remove anything in her path.

At first, the two seemed evenly matched. But as they exchanged more punches, Geum Myeong gradually began to be pushed back.

Before his punches could even fully extend, they were blocked, and sometimes they were deflected outright from the impact.

What initially felt like Seorin countering Geum Myeong’s attacks soon turned into Geum Myeong barely managing to endure Seorin’s onslaught.

Perhaps realizing this wouldn’t do, Geum Myeong began drawing upon a more varied set of techniques.

Using his fists, palms, legs, and even full-body strikes,

he unleashed a vast array of martial arts with his Vajra body as the weapon.

Each technique was distinct, yet seamlessly linked into one flow. Though it was my first time seeing it, there was something familiar about it.

It was the Seventy-Two Secret Techniques that Gakjeong had once displayed.

The weight behind each strike had lessened, but that didn’t mean they were weaker.

Geum Myeong had made a wise decision. A typical opponent would’ve panicked and lost the initiative here.

But of course, this didn’t work against Seorin.

Regardless of how Geum Myeong changed his techniques, Seorin calmly continued to throw her fists.

Her strikes grew stronger and stronger, as if asking whether he could withstand even this.

If Geum Myeong’s martial arts were based on solid training and focused on weight, then Seorin possessed only strength.

Each of her moves contained refined technique, yet what one felt was only primal violence.

And in the face of that overwhelming force, Geum Myeong eventually crumbled.

Thud!

Struck in the chest, Geum Myeong rolled backward a long distance before springing up with a refreshed look, putting his palms together in a bow.

“Thank you for the guidance, benefactor Seorin.”

She seemed a bit flustered, perhaps having misjudged her own strength, but still responded calmly.

“As expected, the Vajra Indestructible Body lives up to its name. This one also found joy in witnessing the depths of Shaolin martial arts.”

Though she had been flustered at first, Seorin soon nodded with satisfaction.

Even though he had lost, no one found it strange or disgraceful.

After all, Seorin had reached the Flowering Stage, even if only recently.

A proper, classic spar where simply experiencing each other’s martial arts was enough.

I hadn’t fought him myself, but I still came away with something from watching Geum Myeong.

Shaolin martial arts are built on solid fundamentals.

Of course, no martial art can neglect fundamentals,

but for Shaolin, it’s even more important—because their secret techniques are ultimately just basic forms trained to the extreme.

The opponent I had sparred with earlier was a late-stage second-class warrior, and naturally lacked those fundamentals.

Building basics takes talent, yes, but more than that, it takes time.

What Geum Myeong showed me gave a glimpse of how far Shaolin’s foundation-based martial arts could go.

Though I’ve been working on my fundamentals in my own way, I still feel there’s quite a bit I’m lacking.

It’s no surprise, considering I never really built a proper foundation.

Before my regression, I learned my sword by jumping straight into live combat, and in this life, I’ve focused on reclaiming my former realm.

Of course, I don’t need to train my fundamentals to the level of Shaolin’s warrior monks. But then, what’s the proper amount?

How much exactly am I lacking?

Reflecting on such questions—I suddenly felt a gaze. Lifting my head, I saw Gak Myeong still watching me with that fierce expression.

“Is something the matter?”

“Now that the spar is over, I’d like to continue the conversation from earlier. Would it be alright to do so here in the training ground?”

“…Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

“Indeed. I saw something good, and my body’s itching a bit. If the Blood Flame Sword Demon benefactor doesn’t mind, I’d like to test hands with you.”

“I’d be happy to. But is that alright? Weren’t we only given permission by Master Jeong Hyeon to spar with either Seorin or one of the Vajra Warriors?”

“Well, for a sparring partner of your level, the abbot would’ve had to step in himself. But he has too many burdens as the abbot, and it couldn’t be helped.”

With a pure smile that didn’t match his vicious face, Gak Myeong continued,

“No one will complain if I take the initiative to spar with the Blood Flame Sword Demon. Especially not with you being a guest of the former abbot.”

“Well, in that case, I have no reason to refuse.”

I grinned and rose from my seat. As I did, Seorin, who had been chatting with Geum Myeong, tilted her head curiously.

“You there? Has your respect for me blossomed so fully that you stand in Reception?”

“Huh? Ah, kuheum. Of course, I always hold great respect for you, Seorin, but this time, the reason is a bit different.”

“Ehhem. Hm? What reason might that be?”

Not content with merely lifting her chin, Seorin even stood on tiptoes, only to blink in surprise.

“I’m going to spar with Monk Gak Myeong.”

“Huhhh?”

Seorin looked between the two of us, then nodded.

“In that case, this one shall observe your match.”

Waving her arms as if to cheer me on, Seorin stood back.

Though she sometimes displayed the shady behavior of spying on younger martial artists playing around… she was, at her core, a good person.

I gave a slight bow, then stepped onto the training ground.

A short distance away, Gak Myeong had already taken position.

As I assumed a respectful pose, he responded with a joined-palms gesture.

Only after confirming this did I draw my sword and settle into a stance.

Still in his clasped-hands posture, Gak Myeong spoke.

“Before we begin the match, allow me to continue our earlier conversation.”

“Earlier…? Ah, you mean the Immovable Wisdom King Steps?”

“Indeed. The Blood Flame Sword Demon benefactor said that it was symbolic of Shaolin, and that’s true… but in fact, that technique is not originally from Shaolin.”

“…What do you mean?”

“Not only the Immovable Wisdom King Steps, but most of the Vajra Warriors’ techniques are not from Shaolin. Long ago, during an era of exchange with Potala Palace in Tibet, we received and developed martial arts symbolizing the Five Great Wisdom Kings they revered just after Buddha.”

“Still, Potala Palace is part of Buddhism. And if these techniques were honed in Shaolin for so long, it seems fair to call them Shaolin martial arts now.”

“The Prajnaparamita Sutra and the Diamond Sutra are different… well, never mind. That may be too complicated. Just understand that though they both come from Buddhism, the sects and their goals are quite different.”

“I see.”

“Exactly. The Vajra Warriors’ martial arts may have originated from Potala Palace… but that place has changed drastically.”

“What do you mean by ‘changed’?”

“I visited on request from the former abbot. The monks there had become excessively immersed in esoteric Buddhism. They had forsaken the Buddha’s role of guiding all beings to enlightenment, and now obsessed over strange rituals and mantras they claimed were full of wisdom.”

“That sounds like just a sectarian difference.”

“That’s what the abbot and former abbot also said. But… I cannot agree.”

From my perspective, it didn’t seem like a big deal.

But for someone who had spent his entire life in Shaolin, following the teachings of the Buddha, it must have felt very different.

Even among Shaolin’s foundational martial arts, the Immovable Wisdom King Steps had a distinctly foreign feel.

And Gak Myeong, who had learned both traditions and seen them firsthand, would have noticed the contrast even more sharply.

I was about to nod and brush it off when his next words made me flinch.

“Shaolin, too, may change at any time. Don’t you see? Lately, Shaolin has become more renowned as a martial sect than as a temple.”

“…Indeed.”

“I don’t know if that’s truly the right path. That’s why I must ask you, Blood Flame Sword Demon benefactor.”

“Ask me what?”

“Whether it’s right for a disciple of the Buddha to be given this much power. And whether we are not simply repeating the mistakes of the former abbot.”

He feared that he and Shaolin might become like Gakjeong—

Who had become so used to killing that he ended up killing a disciple he didn’t need to.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep