The Terminally Ill Young Master of the Baek Clan

The height of summer had arrived.

During midday, the cicadas and insects chirped loudly, seeking their mates.

Of all the seasons, this was the liveliest, brimming with the energy of life.

In intense heat, Supreme Peak masters rarely sweat, a state known as impervious to heat and cold, as they circulated True Qi through their meridians to resist the cold and heat.

Despite this, beads of sweat trickled down Yi-gang’s neck.

He was currently in the front yard of the Second Founder Meditation Room, where the Three Buddhas of Endless Suffering and Yi-gang were staying.

A water bucket, filled to the brim, hung from Yi-gang’s neck.

“Hooh.”

Beop Jin exclaimed.

It had been quite some time since Yi-gang had stayed at Shaolin.

After an outing with Beop Jae, their rapport had mysteriously improved, and he had been residing at the Second Founder Meditation Room for two months now.

However, the way Yi-gang trained, performing unique exercises daily, was always intriguing.

“He resembles a strongman, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, indeed.”

Carrying a water bucket during training offered various benefits.

Improving one’s strength requires bearing weight, and maintaining balance was crucial to avoid spilling the water.

“Have you seen a lot of strongmen?”

“I haven’t seen many. When I participated in the Dragon-Phoenix Conference, there were a few in the marketplace.”

“They say places like that are full of people like me. People with physical limitations.”

“…They often show up in performance troupes.”

Yi-gang stood balanced on the tip of a long pole, a water bucket hanging around his neck.

Dozens of tall poles, each about the height of a person, had been embedded around him. Yi-gang was balancing on one of them, his foot placed carefully.

Yi-gang couldn’t use his arms. Balancing was already challenging, but he had also blindfolded himself.

“Right, they say they even spin plates while blindfolded.”

“…Yes.”

“That’s exactly the feeling I get. Just like Benefactor Yi-gang!”

“That’s true.”

In addition to blindfolding himself, Yi-gang had even blocked his ears.

Since he had such sharp senses, he stuffed wet cotton into his ears, so he couldn’t hear Beop Jin’s teasing.

With a slight bend in his knees, Yi-gang suddenly leaped from the pole.

Just then, Beop Jin shouted at the right moment.

“Well done, Senior Brother Beop Jae!”

And stepping forward was Beop Jae.

Beop Jae held the prayer beads he always wore around his wrist.

Then, he began flicking the beads with his thumb.

Tututung—

Though it seemed like a playful gesture, the force behind the flicked beads was fierce.

This technique was known as Bodhi Beads, one of the Seventy-Two Arts of Shaolin.

Thanks to the consideration of the abbot and the Divine Monk, Beop Jae had been granted access to the Seventy-Two Arts, even mastering Bodhi Beads.

Its subtlety was no less impressive than the Tang Clan’s hidden weapon techniques.

Though the force was lessened, the beads shot fiercely toward Yi-gang’s acupoints.

The bead accurately targeted Yi-gang, who was still airborne.

However, Yi-gang did not fall.

“Ooh!”

Jeong Myung couldn’t help but exclaim in awe.

Yi-gang had slightly twisted his body mid-air.

As a result, the beads aimed at his acupoints became useless. Although they grazed his clothes sharply, not one of them made contact with his body.

Yi-gang landed safely on the next pole.

It was a display of a sixth sense that transcended the five senses.

However, Beop Jae snorted and shot the prayer beads again.

Tatadang!

This time, the speed of the beads was even faster.

Just as Yi-gang was about to leap to the next pole, his body moved swiftly, like a fish flapping in the water.

Once again, none of the beads made contact.

He leapt to the next pole.

Tatata-tatangg!

As Beop Jae flicked all the remaining beads, the sound echoed like beans being roasted.

This time, Beop Jae struck the beads with considerable power.

Yi-gang spun through the air in a complete somersault.

However, he couldn’t dodge as perfectly as before.

It looked as if Beop Jae’s last bead had struck Yi-gang’s face.

“What?!”

“No, look!”

Unlike the surprised Jeong Myung, Beop Jin slapped his knee in delight.

Realizing what had happened, Jeong Myung sighed in relief.

Standing on the next pole, Yi-gang spat something out.

A bead rolled out of his mouth and fell to the ground.

In that split second, Yi-gang caught the flying prayer bead with his teeth.

Beop Jin clapped his hands as if he were watching a performance. Jeong Myung almost joined in, clapping instinctively.

“Almost broke my front teeth.”

Yi-gang grinned and leapt onto the final pole.

He had counted every prayer bead that had flown toward him thus far. He also knew Beop Jae had no more beads left to shoot.

That was why he laughed, imagining Beop Jae panting in disappointment.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

“Hm.”

But at that moment, an unexpected attack occurred, one that Yi-gang hadn’t anticipated.

Beop Yun, who had been standing still, flicked a prayer bead as well.

Since he couldn’t see, Beop Yun couldn’t send multiple beads in a dazzling display like Beop Jae.

However, having developed a near mind’s eye, Beop Yun shot a single Bodhi Bead with perfect accuracy.

Ddoong!

A resonant sound echoed, like the striking of a temple bell.

This meant Beop Yun’s Bodhi Beads technique had reached a higher level than Beop Jae’s.

It was as if he could even pierce through an iron plate, like the masters of old.

Yi-gang was astonished.

First, at the fact that Beop Yun, who couldn’t see, had mastered the Bodhi Beads technique to this extent.

Second, at the realization that the Three Buddhas of Endless Suffering’s martial power, once thought to be silent to those outside, was actually this formidable.

Third, was the realization that he couldn’t possibly avoid that single prayer bead.

Sweeeish!

However, Yi-gang moved, trusting his instincts rather than logic.

Because of that, his response was immediate.

He could clearly feel the fierce force of the incoming bead.

Then, Yi-gang’s arm, darkened as if bruised.

That right arm, which had trembled as if it didn’t know how to move, slowly rose.

Puh-ak!

The prayer bead lodged itself in Yi-gang’s palm.

Normally, the bead would have pierced straight through a human hand.

Countless techniques must have been used to reduce the impact.

Even Jeong Myung, who was watching with wide eyes, couldn’t fully grasp all the intricacies of those methods.

Plop—

The bead fell from Yi-gang’s palm to the ground, with blood dripping steadily.

Only then did Jeong Myung exhale the breath he had been holding and shout.

“Did you… did you heal your arm?!”

Yi-gang removed the cotton from his ears and took off his blindfold.

He let his hand drop once more.

“No.”

“Then…!”

Yi-gang denied the question about whether he had healed his arm.

“It was only temporary movement. Through sorcery.”

“Huh!”

Yi-gang focused on sorcery based on Dam Hyeon’s advice.

Specifically, on telekinesis.

Though his lower dantian was still suppressed by restriction, he was gradually making use of the middle and upper dantian.

He thought it could yield even better effects if combined with the telekinetic sword technique, yet there was an unexpected application.

Through telekinesis, he could move his own arm.

With a face full of hope, Jeong Myung asked, “Then, will you hold a sword again?”

No matter what anyone said, Yi-gang was a swordsman.

As a fellow martial artist, Jeong Myung had been waiting for the day Yi-gang would wield a sword again.

But Yi-gang shook his head.

“It’s not time to use my arm yet. I intend to put the sword aside for now as well.”

Yi-gang did not carry a sword.

It was a stark contrast to a month ago when Yi-gang had carried a sword he couldn’t even wield, letting it dangle at his side.

Jeong Myung looked disappointed.

However, there was also someone who was pleased with Yi-gang’s decision.

“Splendid!” the Divine Monk who had appeared out of nowhere exclaimed, “One can only achieve purity by shedding delusions.”

“…”

“All laws of existence lack inherent nature. Jeong Myung, don’t let yourself be consumed by distractions.”

“Yes, Great Senior Uncle.”

Jeong Myung bowed his head with his hands in a prayer gesture.

Yi-gang also nodded respectfully to the Divine Monk.

The Divine Monk grinned and spoke to Yi-gang, “If you ever regain full use of your arm, come out with me for a while.”

“…Where do you mean?”

“There is a place too challenging for an old, ailing man like me to visit alone.”

Yi-gang frowned.

Yi-gang couldn’t guess where the Divine Monk intended to take him.

“Can’t you go alone?”

“You brat! Are you trying to send an ailing monk to a place of death alone?!”

The mention of a place of death made him even less inclined to go.

“Your father might be there as well, wouldn’t it be nice? Go and pay him a visit after so long.”

“…”

Hearing that only added to his confusion.

But the Divine Monk just chuckled, not offering any further explanation.

The destinations of Shaolin’s invitations were varied.

The Murim Alliance and the Unorthodox Union.

And also the prominent sects of the orthodox Murim.

Among these invitations, some were treated with particular care.

There were a few invitations, wrapped in red silk. They were handwritten by the Divine Monk Mu Myung himself. It was necessary to show such respect, as the invitees wouldn’t respond otherwise.

Though the invitation was embellished with flowery words, it was simple at its core.

Though I, the Old Monk, am old and ill, as one who has lived through the ages, I wish to invite you.

The times are changing, and as the waves of the Yangtze River push forward, I thought it would be nice if we, too, could meet and chat in our old age.

Let us meet for a cup of tea.

The invitations were sent to the Ten Grandmasters, excluding the Demon Cult Leader and the deceased Imperial Guardian.

Some received the invitation with joy, while others scoffed and burned it with true samadhi fire.

Yet, no one could afford to ignore the invitation in this era.

In this way, the Divine Monk set a massive wheel in motion.

Meanwhile, at the Peng Clan in Hebei.

The buildings of the Peng Clan of Hebei were rugged yet majestic.

They seemed to reflect the nature of the Peng Clan’s martial artists.

In the clan leader’s hall, Baek Ha-jun sat with a respectful posture.

Though he had left the Baek Noble Clan, claiming he was heading to Shaolin, he had yet to make his way there.

Instead, he had been visiting various sects under his father’s orders.

“Hmm.”

In front of him, a massive man sat down heavily.

Before him lay a long, thick black blade, nearly the height of an average person.

This was Peng Mu-hyeok, the Clan Head of the Peng Clan.

He was reading a letter delivered by Ha-jun from Baek Ryu-san.

The Clan Head of the Peng Clan scratched his chin and set the letter down.

“So, you’re the Young Clan Head of the Baek Noble Clan.”

“That’s correct.”

Ha-jun’s posture was upright.

Even in front of a Supreme Peak master, a figure as terrifying as a demon whom the unorthodox martial artists feared more than ghosts, he remained composed.

“I like the look in your eyes.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you marry my daughter?”

“…”

The confidence on Ha-jun’s face cracked.

He couldn’t respond immediately to such an unexpected question.

Ha-jun raised his head and looked behind the Peng Clan Head.

Standing there were two large men who resembled their father closely.

They were the Peng Clan’s Twin Tigers, Peng Gu-in and Peng Gu-hwi.

They glared at Ha-jun with ghostly expressions.

One shook his head, while the other made a slicing motion across his neck, as if warning him not to accept.

Ha-jun barely managed to speak, “I apologize, but…”

“Wait! I withdraw the offer!”

Before he could utter his rejection, the Clan Head of the Peng Clan slammed his pan-like hand onto the ground.

“Just think about it a little longer!”

“…”

“A marriage with Mu-ah?! It’s far too soon for that!”

Ha-jun was at a loss for words.

He finally understood why Peng Mu-ah found her own family overwhelming.