Gal Dong-tak’s face was unscathed.

Unlike Noh Shik, who still complained of body aches whenever it rained, Gal Dong-tak easily overcame the aftereffects of the duel.

Even if the Beggars’ Gang’s poison wasn’t particularly vicious, it was still an impressive feat.

Gal Dong-tak had groaned for about seven days and nights from the stomach pain, but soon after, he dusted himself off and got back on his feet.

It could be said that he was blessed with an extraordinarily robust body.

However, his father, Gal Sa-hyuk, was a different story.

Gal Sa-hyuk also possessed an exceptional physique, but he could not defy the passage of time.

Yi-gang’s Shooting Star Fang had clearly slashed through his body, and beyond that, his entire body was covered in minor wounds.

The Green Forest Tyrant King, who once dominated the world, had spent a long time bedridden.

It was said that he lay in Shaolin’s Medicine King Hall, staring blankly at the ceiling.

The greatest wound was likely to his spirit. He had suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of Yi-gang, whom he had dismissed as a mere greenhorn.

His defeat was now spreading across the entire Central Plains through countless witnesses.

Before long, the story would likely reach as far as the Southern Sea or even Kunlun.

It was reported that he had finally risen from bed a few days ago.

However, he still found it difficult to move on his own, so he had to sit in a wheeled chair, relying on Gal Dong-tak’s assistance.

And now, that very son of Gal Sa-hyuk sat before Yi-gang.

The Twin Axes of Defiance, Gal Dong-tak, blinked his large eyes.

The more Yi-gang looked at Gal Dong-tak, the more he thought he resembled an ox.

“…So, why are you here?”

Gal Dong-tak had simply sat down in front of him without saying a word, so Yi-gang was the first to break the silence.

“Did you come to avenge your father?”

Yi-gang said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The ones who were actually startled were those beside him.

Ha-jun, in particular, cautiously placed his hand on his sword.

So Woon also fiddled with his spear.

Noh Shik, who had brought Gal Dong-tak here, awkwardly glanced around, sensing the tension.

“No.”

But Gal Dong-tak answered in a booming voice.

“I have no intention of seeking revenge!”

Yi-gang narrowed his eyes slightly at his firm response.

Bandits were often obsessed with their own sense of honor.

Besides, even if that weren’t the case, in the martial world, a father’s enemy naturally became the son’s enemy.

“That’s unexpected.”

“It was a fair duel.”

It didn’t seem all that fair. Especially not with Gal Sa-hyuk’s actions.

“And I’m not a fool,” Gal Dong-tak said firmly.

At his words, Yi-gang and Ha-jun widened their eyes in surprise.

“I’ve lived my entire life in the mountain stronghold. I’ve never even stepped into the martial world.”

“I see…”

“I was like a frog in a well. I didn’t even realize how vast the world was.”

Gal Dong-tak’s words were surprisingly articulate.

From the moment he was born, he had been a part of the Green Forest outlaws.

His parents, the uncles he followed, and even the servants who attended to him were all bandits.

He had been hailed as a heaven-sent genius, a hero of the Green Forest, but what did that even mean?

Gal Dong-tak had been defeated by Noh Shik, who hadn’t even reached the pinnacle of martial arts, and his father had been beaten by Yi-gang.

“I will leave the mountains!”

And so, Gal Dong-tak made his decision.

He would leave the stronghold and step out from his father’s shadow.

“And I will experience the vast world!”

He would travel across the martial world and see for himself just how wide and boundless it truly was.

Yi-gang and his companions remained silent for a moment before nodding.

“Well, congratulations.”

“…Thanks!”

Gal Dong-tak nodded contentedly, and silence fell once more.

Yi-gang was the first to break it.

“So, why did you come here?”

Gal Dong-tak scratched his cheek.

“I just wanted to… ask for your guidance?”

“…I see.”

So Woon and Ha-jun also let down their guard.

Yi-gang let out a shallow sigh.

“If you’ve said everything you needed to, will you be going back now?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

And just like that, Gal Dong-tak really turned around and left.

Only silence remained where he had been sitting.

Everyone looked bewildered.

Among them, Noh Shik was the one who looked the least concerned, so Yi-gang asked him, “You seem to have gotten close to him already.”

“Yes, I think that guy also came here because he wanted to befriend you, Instructor—I mean, Young Master Yi-gang.”

“I see.”

Yi-gang thought to himself.

A beggar and a bandit as friends? It seemed like an odd match.

Golden Basin Hand-Washing.

The act of washing one’s hands in a golden basin.

It was a declaration of retiring from the affairs of the martial world and letting go of all past grudges.

To mark the occasion, a grand banquet was held, inviting people to celebrate the retirement ceremony.

In reality, its purpose was to make an announcement to the martial world.

It was a way of saying, “Let us put all grudges behind us. If you have any complaints, come forward. Otherwise, forget past resentments.”

Additionally, since it involved gathering many martial artists through a lavish banquet, it was practically a display of power.

For that reason, such a worldly and blatant retirement ceremony was something typically done by influential figures of the unorthodox sects.

They did it out of fear of growing old and weak, putting on a show of grandeur to compensate.

Because of this, Shaolin had never hosted such an event.

Naturally, the current abbot, Mu Jin, had no reason to approve of the Golden Basin Ritual arranged by the Divine Monk.

No matter how respected the Divine Monk was as his senior, it was understandable that Mu Jin would be displeased with holding the Golden Basin Ritual at Mount Song.

However, the expression on Mu Jin’s face was not one of displeasure.

It was sorrow—an indescribable, overwhelming sorrow.

“Senior Brother.”

Seated before him in proper posture was the Divine Monk.

He had always been frail from birth.

He was a nameless child who had entered the temple as an orphan from a war-ravaged village.

That nameless child grew into a young warrior monk of Shaolin and achieved great feats in the martial world.

As Shaolin’s First Fist, he eventually became the World’s Greatest Fist.

He rose to the position of the Murim Alliance Leader, leading the orthodox Murim.

And as time passed, all that remained was an old monk.

The kasaya draped over his thin shoulders looked far too large.

His back had hunched, and his wrinkled skin was now marked with age spots.

“You called for me?”

“Yes, yes, everything is fine. I feel wonderful.”

The Divine Monk smiled faintly.

Having distributed most of his internal energy to the successors of the new generation, it was as if the strength that had once sustained his body had vanished.

He looked utterly exhausted, yet the smile on his face was warm.

‘Flower Sermon.’

Mu Jin recalled the ancient story.

When the Buddha held up a lotus flower, his disciple Mahākāśyapa responded with a faint smile.

Mu Jin sensed that his senior brother was ready.

“I have prepared a new kasaya for you. Please wear it.”

In honor of the Golden Basin Ritual, Mu Jin had made a new kasaya for him.

But Mu Myung adamantly refused.

“A new robe feels rough. It would be too cumbersome for an old man like me.”

His gray kasaya was worn and tattered.

The prayer beads in his hands were also damaged, with half of the beads either cracked or broken.

Mu Myung rose from his seat.

“The people outside must still be waiting. Shall we go meet them?”

“Why do you keep calling for me?”

“Must you really go through with this…?”

“Ah, really.”

The Divine Monk gave a bitter smile.

He knew exactly why his junior brother was so heartbroken.

And so, for a moment, Mu Jin set aside his role as abbot and spoke as a disciple to his senior brother.

“Mu Jin.”

“Yes, Senior Brother.”

“I have abandoned all lingering attachments to the secular world.”

“All the things I once considered dreams were nothing more than delusions. The future must be entrusted to young souls.”

With those words, the Divine Monk slowly took the first step forward.

“Come now, let us go.”

Mu Jin followed him.

Outside, people were waiting.

However, unlike the grand Golden Basin Ritual ceremonies held in the secular world, there were not many in attendance.

A small number of old monks from the Mu line.

High monks of the Hyun line, who currently led Shaolin.

And a handful of the Ten Grandmasters along with their small entourages.

They were seated on chairs arranged in the serene inner courtyard of the temple.

For a Golden Basin Ritual, it was remarkably humble.

There were no banquets or tables laden with liquor, no grand stage, and certainly no golden basin.

At the center of the chairs, there was only a single earthen basin filled with cold water, sitting in stark solitude.

The Divine Monk stood before the basin.

Then, he looked around at those gathered.

The old monks of the Mu line remained expressionless.

Even though they knew what their senior brother was about to do, they showed no sign of emotion.

It was a testament to their deep cultivation.

The monks of the Hyun line were the same.

They silently observed the final moments of Shaolin’s First Fist.

“As I reflect upon it…”

The Divine Monk spoke.

His Heart Speech of Wisdom Light, which could no longer be used, carried his aged and steady voice.

“I suppose the term Twelve Stars of the Divine Land is no longer accurate. This humble monk is no longer strong.”

No one responded.

The Divine Monk slowly raised his aged fist.

“With these fists, how many Demon Cultists have I beaten to death?”

At those shocking words, Grand Master Mu Jin let out an awkward cough.

“I have always justified my actions in the name of righteousness and salvation, yet the karma of my deeds still weighs upon me.”

Non-violence was one of Shaolin’s most sacred precepts, but someone had to bear the burden of taking lives.

And so, the Divine Monk was likely the Shaolin monk who had taken the most lives in nearly a century.

“There must be many who feel bitter that someone like me can simply wash my hands and retire in peace…”

The Divine Monk smirked as he glanced around the gathering.

The Unorthodox Union Leader, Gal Sa-hyuk, and the Crimson Moon Demoness, along with other masters from the unorthodox side, frowned.

They too had shed much blood at the Divine Monk’s hands.

Despite their animosity, they had come to witness the Golden Basin Ritual for one reason alone.

“You all wish to see the World’s Greatest Fist, the Divine Monk, reduced to nothing more than a frail old man, don’t you?”

The Divine Monk locked eyes with each of the unorthodox masters.

Some scoffed and glared back at him, while others quickly averted their gaze.

“As I wash my hands, I let go of all past grudges, letting them flow away with this cold water…”

He murmured as he placed his hands in the basin.

Then, he made his declaration.

“This humble monk has already given up most of his internal energy.”

“Lies!” a sharp retort rang out.

It was Gal Sa-hyuk, who had just scoffed moments ago.

“You gave up your internal energy? Don’t be ridiculous!” Gal Sa-hyuk shouted from his seat in the wheeled chair.

Then, as if his wounds were aching, Gal Sa-hyuk grimaced.

The Divine Monk chuckled and said, “Have you spent your whole life being deceived? I found it wasteful to simply discard my internal energy, so I distributed it to the younger generation. I even passed some to Yi-gang, the one who defeated you, bandit.”

Yi-gang stood beside Baek Ryu-san.

When he was singled out, he looked slightly startled but then gave a small nod.

Gal Sa-hyuk’s face flushed red with anger as he gritted his teeth.

At that moment, the Crimson Moon Demoness stepped forward.

“I feel the same way—I can’t believe it.”

“What else do you doubt?”

“How can we be sure that you truly transferred your internal energy? None of us saw it happen.”

“So if you had seen it yourself, would you have believed it?”

The Divine Monk sneered at the Crimson Moon Demoness.

Even if they had witnessed him transferring his internal energy to Yi-gang and Ha-jun, would they have believed it?

“Of course not. The Saha World is nothing but an endless Avici Hell, where people deceive and betray one another. Why would anyone trust so easily?”

The Divine Monk had never expected them to believe him.

Even if they had seen it, they would have found something to nitpick.

‘Did you only pass down a fraction of your power?’ or ‘How can we be certain?’

“There is a way to convince you.”

The Divine Monk spread both arms wide.

Even with the kasaya draped over him, the outline of his emaciated limbs was clearly visible.

“Come here and take my pulse. Channel your Qi into me and see for yourself. Wouldn’t that prove that my dantian has dried up?”

At his words, the senior monks of Shaolin murmured in alarm.

It was an incredibly dangerous act.

However, there was no need for them to stop the Divine Monk.

“…Tch.”

The Crimson Moon Demoness gritted her teeth.

The Divine Monk glanced at the Unorthodox Union Leader and Gal Sa-hyuk, but neither of them moved from their seats.

The Shaolin monks did not yet understand, but the reason was simple.

They were still afraid.

Afraid of him.

To the unorthodox masters, he was a legend who had dominated the martial world since their youth.

The fear accumulated over the years had not yet faded.

The Divine Monk let out a chuckle before suddenly exerting force.

“Haaap!”

The unorthodox masters knew well how terrifying the Divine Monk’s Hundred Steps Divine Fist was.

They flinched in alarm—but nothing happened.

Not even a breeze emerged from the Divine Monk’s hand.

“Even with my palm technique, I cannot dispel your doubts.”

The expressions of the unorthodox masters darkened, turning red with frustration.

The Divine Monk had long known the truth.

The Golden Basin Ritual would not be enough to erase their suspicions.

Nor could it change the fact that his lifespan was nearing its end.

“The sages of old were said to foresee the moment of their own Nirvana.”

Thus, he had planned for this moment from the very beginning.

“And now, as my time comes, I too can see the end of my life approaching.”

The abbot suddenly began chanting a Buddhist prayer.

The great monks of the Mu line joined him in reciting a hymn.

The Divine Monk took a step forward.

Then, he met the eyes of everyone present, one by one.

Yi-gang, who had been watching from a distance, stiffened in surprise.

The Divine Monk’s eyes were as clear as glass.

For some reason, they bore an uncanny resemblance to the final gaze of the Sword Emperor he had last seen.

“I will be leaving now. Let the people of this world stop washing away blood with more blood.”

The Divine Monk raised his hand and pointed toward the sky.

“I shall illuminate the path.”

Then, he murmured softly.

Fwoosh—

A flame ignited at the tip of the Divine Monk’s finger.

In an instant, the fire engulfed his entire body.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep