With a hedgehog beard bristling in every direction — as though deliberately imitating Zhang Fei from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms — and wild, unkempt hair.
His bared chest and shoulders were covered in tiger tattoos.
Fittingly for his appearance, he gripped a massive axe.
Some fifty brigands stood behind him, clutching an assortment of weapons — swords, sabers, spears, axes, hook blades — and glaring at the party.
"I'm Jang Dae-ho. Everyone off your horses. Throw your weapons to the roadside!"
But after a long pause, no one dismounted.
No one tossed their weapons, either.
His nostrils began to squirm like worms, and steam poured from them in furious puffs.
"If you don't listen, I'll make an example of——!"
But mid-sentence, he stopped.
Hyeol-u had climbed down from the cart and was silently pointing behind them with the Tae-seok dark cane.
Following the gesture, the man's eyes widened — dozens of martial world fighters were rounding the mountain bend, closing in.
"Wh-who are they?"
"You can see for yourself. A brigand-suppression force."
"Suppression force......?!"
The instant those words landed, Jang Dae-ho jerked his horse backward, wheeled its head around, and galloped several paces.
"What the hell?!"
He had not noticed, but his brigands were already in full retreat.
WHINNY—!
But after only a few strides, the horse's legs buckled violently and it collapsed.
"GAAGHH!"
A small branch had been lodged between the horse's front legs. Jang Dae-ho was pitched headlong from the saddle and tumbled across the ground.
"Grrr, how dare......!"
As he grimaced and tried to rise—
THWACK—!
The dark cane's devastating blow cracked across the back of his skull.
What followed was an indiscriminate beating across his entire body.
His scattered men, seeing their leader captured, stood frozen at a distance, unable to advance or retreat.
The sight drew grimaces from the party.
Beating a ragtag band of local brigands this brutally seemed excessive.
The sourest face of all belonged to Jegal Su-ran.
Much of the swelling had subsided, but the face he had punched still throbbed and ached anew.
Hyeol-u paused mid-beating and began questioning Jang Dae-ho.
"Gnnngh......"
"One question. Who sent you to block our path?"
"Wh-what do you......"
"Lie and you die. I'll hunt down every last one of your men behind you and slaughter them all."
"You can't......!"
"You blocked an armed party of martial artists head-on. Knowing full well what we were."
"Th-the truth is...... the Green Forest Phoenix Form Stronghold — the ones they call the Spirit of Heavenly Pillar Mountain — told us to go ahead and test you......"
So the Green Forest stronghold had used the brigands as a vanguard.
"Fine. Call all your men in. You're leading our procession."
And so a bizarre column was formed.
Brigands scouting the road ahead; behind, orthodox, unorthodox, and demonic martial world fighters trailing the escort, waiting for scraps.
Hyeol-u rode alongside the brigand chief Jang Dae-ho as they crested the pass.
Sure enough, the moment they topped the ridge, dozens of rough-looking men lounged in various poses, weapons at the ready.
Among them, a fox-faced man smirked and called out.
"Hey, you're back awfully fast, aren't you?"
Beside him, a hulking man who resembled an orangutan rose to his feet, hefting a great sword and narrowing his eyes.
"I sent Chief Jang the moment I saw them entering the pass — did they go a different way?"
"Boss, no chance. This is the only road to the An River."
'Just as I thought — they knew.'
As Hyeol-u processed this, Jang Dae-ho tapped his arm.
"Well, something came up...... let me explain."
Hyeol-u had told him to push everything onto him once they met the stronghold. The man dumped it on cue — smoothly, too.
Both leaders and every bandit present turned their attention to Hyeol-u.
He looked around with a slightly frightened expression, and the fox-faced one raised his voice.
"Well? This is the Stronghold Master. Speak up!"
"Oh, y-yes sir. The truth is, it turns out they're serious people — I couldn't even get close. I ran."
"What? This bastard says he ran without even talking to them? You think being old makes you special?"
The orangutan-like stronghold master slammed his great sword against the ground and snarled.
"They're led by the Namgung Clan, with the Jegal Clan, Sanggwan Clan, and Danri Clan. And behind them, dozens of martial world fighters are following. Would you not have run?"
Somewhere mid-sentence, his speech had gotten noticeably shorter.
"You little......"
The instant the stronghold master raised his great sword high—
"GAKH!"
His eyes rolled back.
The tip of the dark cane had pierced the carotid artery in his neck, and blood was flowing freely.
"I am the Third Young Master of the Namgung Clan, Namgung Seong. And your name?"
"I-I'm Swift Blade Shaking Heaven, Bang Gak......"
Swift Blade Shaking Heaven, Bang Gak.
An unexpectedly formidable figure.
Reportedly one of the upper-ranked masters among the Green Forest's 108 Strongholds.
No matter how caught off guard he had been, the fact that Hyeol-u had rendered him helpless spoke volumes.
"Bang Gak, one question. Answer wrong and your head will be watching your rigid body from above."
"Hgghh, I-I'll talk......"
Even so, the man stiffened with pride — unwilling to show weakness before his men.
"Who sent you?"
"......!"
When Bang Gak clamped his mouth shut, blood suddenly began cascading from his neck like a waterfall.
"GRRGHH......!"
But Bang Gak only screwed his face tight and said nothing.
"If you don't want to talk, so be it. I'll kill you and ask someone who will."
"Kill me......"
This time he shut his eyes entirely.
His eyelids trembled faintly.
Was his sense of loyalty truly that deep?
"Fine, if that's your wish!"
Just as Hyeol-u was about to draw the cane across his throat—
A trembling voice spoke up.
"I...... I'll answer."
***
"Jang Pyeong!"
"I can't help it...... I absolutely cannot watch the Stronghold Master die in front of me."
Things were veering in a strange direction.
The stronghold master kept his mouth shut, while his apparent right-hand man was ready to talk.
If the organization behind this were the Huizhou Merchant Guild, would they really go this far?
"Fine, you talk instead."
"If I do, you must promise to release the Stronghold Master unharmed."
When Hyeol-u nodded, the man wrote characters in the dirt and immediately erased them.
'Well now, a bandit who can write.'
That aside — the "mysterious monk of Three Patriarchs Temple"?
His heart dropped like a stone.
Three Patriarchs Temple was the disguised name of Black Dragon Temple.
If an unrelated stranger was living there, his former sect had been destroyed.
Who was this person, and why had he taken over the temple and was now interfering with the Namgung Clan's march?
A storm of questions crashed over him at once.
They would be answered once he met the monk, of course.
Hyeol-u nodded and withdrew the dark cane without hesitation.
The brigands and bandits parted to either side, clearing the road.
Through the gap, the Namgung Clan escort came into view.
Watching Hyeol-u depart with them, Jang Pyeong seemed to wrestle with something internally.
Then he exhaled and shouted.
"Sigh, it's no use going that way! The reservoir sluice gates are open — the gorge is flooded."
But Wang Gyeong-jong pointed ahead and called out.
"Pay him no mind, let's keep going!"
The party shot him incredulous looks.
Golden Swordhand So Se-gi glared fit to kill, then smacked the cage bars with his sword.
"Shut up! You're a prisoner. One more word and a piece of your body will be dangling from the outside of that cage."
"Come on, a man can't even speak? Hey, Third Young Master — you agree with me, don't you?"
If the gorge was impassable, the alternative was obvious.
Follow the riverside, climb the pass, and Three Patriarchs Temple would appear.
From there, take the Heaven-Reaching Pass and continue on.
"Carry on as we are."
"See? See? Making a man's life miserable for nothing."
Hyeol-u spoke and Wang Gyeong-jong foamed at the mouth, but this time no one argued.
In truth, Hyeol-u had only appeared to accept Wang Gyeong-jong's suggestion.
A man who had spent his entire life within household walls knowing secret passages through Heavenly Pillar Mountain's wilderness — that simply did not add up.
Meanwhile, time marched on. Dusk left red shadows on the peaks before sinking from sight.
The reed-choked riverbank.
A gorge stream some ten jang wide rushed past at a swift current.
The column followed the riverside, climbed the ridge.
And around the Hour of the Rooster—
"I'm going to starve to death at this rate. When do we eat?"
Wang Gyeong-jong slapped his belly and shouted.
Every eye in the party turned, and Namgung Byeok grimaced deeply.
"Hey, we're starving too. You think you're the only one?"
Then his gaze drifted pointedly toward Hyeol-u.
The words were for Wang Gyeong-jong, but the look said it was all Hyeol-u's fault that everyone was going hungry.
'That petty bastard. Still bitter about the escort, is he?'
As Hyeol-u was thinking precisely that—
A tall monk emerged from the gate of Three Patriarchs Temple, leaning on a Zen staff as he descended a dozen stone steps with measured calm.
Hyeol-u's eyes sharpened to a razor's edge.
The man wore a kasaya over a shaven head, true enough.
But his dark, puffy face with its bushy brown beard looked less like a monk than a bandit.
Hyeol-u spread his senses out of habit.
'He's trained in martial arts, but nothing extraordinary......'
At that moment — as though sensing the probe — the monk introduced himself.
"Amitabha! I am Heo Ju, abbot of Three Patriarchs Temple. Judging by the weariness on your faces, your party must be on urgent business. Since you're passing by, would you care to rest a while under the Buddha's blessing?"
His phlegm-thick voice grated slightly on the ear.
But Seventh Elder Namgung Pil-su betrayed nothing and greeted him with clasped hands.
"Thank you, Abbot. But as you can see, we have horses, a carriage, and quite a few people — we'd be an imposition."
"Not at all. As it happens, the villagers were so generous with their offerings today that we're practically drowning in food."
"A special occasion, then?"
"Today is the founding anniversary of Three Patriarchs Temple. You can tie the horses and carriage in the shed over there...... come, come up, all of you."
So-i sidled up to Hyeol-u.
"Um, Young Master. What about us......?"
"The horses must be hungry too. Stay here, boil some beans, and feed them."
That said, he studied Heo Ju with an inscrutable gaze.
Yes.
Today — one thousand years ago to the day — was the founding anniversary of Three Patriarchs Temple. In other words, of Black Dragon Temple.
If someone had seized the temple by force or stumbled upon it by accident, they would not know this.
Something was tickling the tip of his nose with a suspicious scent.
Now that he looked — the skin color and features were entirely different, but the look in the monk's eyes was somehow familiar.
'Those eyes look like Cheol-u's......'
"Hey, let us out too."
"Yeah! Our qi centers are sealed — it's not like we can run."
Just then, Black-White Impermanence — who had sat silent as meditating monks inside the cage until now — suddenly protested.
'That's odd too. Why are they suddenly speaking up after all this time?'
Hyeol-u's gaze swept across Heo Ju and the laymen helping with the temple's work.
'Should I watch and see what they're up to?'
He unlatched the cage door with a clank and spoke.
"Crawl out slowly. If I see anything suspicious, one of your limbs leaves without you."
"Oh, finally!"
Despite his menacing tone, they looked positively gleeful — as though simply being out of the cage was joy enough.
Wang Gyeong-jong was grinning from ear to ear too.
"Third Young Master, are you sure about this?"
Namgung Pil-su voiced the obvious concern, but the three prisoners were chained together in a single bundle and could only move as one — so the worry seemed unwarranted.
"Don't worry."
Even as he said it, his eyes stayed on Heo Ju.
'His lip definitely twitched just now. He was smiling — I'm sure of it.'
***
Seated in the temple's dining hall — large enough to accommodate a hundred — the party's jaws dropped.
Over a dozen dishes were brought out in a parade.
Each one was shaped to look as though it had been prepared with beef, pork, or chicken.
"It really does look like meat."
At the Second Young Master Namgung Byeok's remark — delivered with a hard swallow — Jegal Su-ran popped a piece of what looked like boiled pork into her mouth and chewed.
"Hm? Is this not actually pork?"
She said it half in jest.
If it were real, only the monks who served it would be in trouble.
"Haha! Hardly. Temple cuisine is categorized into imperial, monastic, and folk styles, you see — but nowadays, monastic cuisine imitates the imperial style. Both the appearance and the texture, even the flavor and aroma, are crafted to mimic real meat."
"Oh, I had no idea."
Following Jegal Su-ran's lead, the party attacked the food with gusto.
Before long, the only sound in the hall was the clicking of chopsticks — even the sound of breathing had disappeared.
"Seeing you enjoy the meal so heartily is truly the Buddha's blessing. May I offer noodles for dessert?"
Their stomachs were already full, but there was no reason to refuse.