Return of the Mount Hua Sect

Chapter 1309: If You Are The Opponent, I Should Yield. (3)

“You bastard!”

“You’ve crawled all the way here!”

Those who had set up camp along the gorge lunged at Hae Yeon in an instant.

The atmosphere was markedly different.

Those encamped outside the gorge also radiated murderous intent, but the men before him felt much more refined and sharper.

Shraaak!

Two in front, two overhead.

Four men charged Hae Yeon at the same time.

In their hands were long spears at least a few feet in length.

The spear is the most efficient weapon in the world.

In the hands of the unskilled, no weapon demonstrates such easy power.

Of course, its length brings the fatal drawback of being hard to display refined martial techniques.

But not here.

On a narrow path with nowhere to dodge and where attackers must come head-on, the spear’s power multiplies.

Moreover, Hae Yeon is an unarmed fighter who cannot utilize a weapon’s reach at all.

With that disadvantage added, the situation became dire.

Even if he could freely use his trademark unarmed power, he couldn’t unleash it inside this gorge.

If the gorge collapsed, the Southern Island sect’s disciples following behind would be caught in the disaster.

His specialty was sealed off, and his matchup with the enemy was horrifically bad.

Yet, knowing all this, not a flicker of doubt touched Hae Yeon’s heart.

Thrum!

Placing his feet in battle stance, Hae Yeon surged forward at once.

“Amitabha!”

After a brief chant, he gently swept both hands toward the spears flying at him.

Kakagagakang!

The spear that had been exuding qi fierce enough to split steel bounced off his sleeve the moment it touched.

Even the spears that had stretched out like the lightning bent and veered away from Haeon’s body.

Hae Yeon’s body left afterimages as he moved through the gaps created when the spears parted.

Diamond Immovability Step!

One of the Shaolin Seventy-Two Techniques.

Shaolin’s martial arts are the foundation of the Central Plains.

Merely having strong internal qi and strength would not have earned it the title of the cradle of Central Plains martial arts.

Fist, palm, finger, and foot—internal and external, steps swift.

The essence of martial arts expressed through the human body is contained within Shaolin’s arts.

The moment Hae Yeon moved almost like an illusion, the enemies rapidly withdrew their spears.

Not merely pulling, they almost threw the spears back, grabbing just below the blade rather than the shaft.

Gripping a long spear closely turns it effectively into a short spear.

It isn’t a difficult idea, but those accustomed to the spear’s advantage wouldn’t think to do it.

That the response came so quickly showed how battle-hardened they were.

But Hae Yeon’s ability far surpassed even their counter.

The one who had grabbed just below the spear blade thrust it forward in an instant.

To keep the distance an unarmed fighter needs to attack, Hae Yeon would have to stop here.

But at that moment, Hae Yeon dove even deeper toward them.

So close that even throwing a fist seemed impossible.

‘What?’

Diving in so their shoulders nearly touched, Hae Yeon planted his feet as if bracing into the ground and drove powerfully.

Power flowed from his toes up his legs like a whirl, through his torso, reaching his shoulders.

Hae Yeon slammed his shoulder into the warrior’s chest before him.

Kuuuuung!

A powerful spiral force.

The shoulder charge, loaded with tremendous rotational power, shattered the brace the opponent wore on his chest.

Like a porcelain bowl slipping from one’s hand.

The opponent was flung away without even letting out a cry.

Just watching the body spin fiercely in the air, one could tell how immense the rotational force of Hae Yeon’s strike was.

“Guh!”

“You bastard!”

Seizing the moment a comrade was felled, other warriors quickly thrust their short spears.

But what stopped them was Hae Yeon’s strangely curved-looking hand.

Kakak!

Another of the Seventy-Two Techniques, Dragon Claw Hand, snatched the short spear flying like a dragon’s talon.

Hae Yeon’s hand, having snatched three spears at once, seemed to spring open with rebound.

White fingertip qi shot straight out from his fingers.

Shraaak!

The qi streaked out like a flash, piercing the warriors’ bodies.

“Aaaaah!”

Riddled with small holes, they bled out and tumbled.

This was Shaolin’s most famous finger technique, the Finger-Snap Marvel, showing power befitting its name.

Through Hae Yeon’s hand.

“You damn Central Plains bastard!”

Someone behind snarled and hurled a spear.

This time Hae Yeon’s foot swung across without even a preparatory motion.

No—the motion was better described as ‘slid’ than ‘swung.’

The spear shaft that met his toe was cleanly sliced off as if cut by a sharp sword.

“W-with a foot...?”

The warrior, shocked, couldn’t even think to pull back his thrust.

Hae Yeon lowered his posture in front of the severed shaft.

“Amitabha.”

Hae Yeon’s palm tapped the cut end of the shaft.

It was as light a motion as a child reaching out.

But the result was far from light.

Tuuuuuuuuung!

The qi of the Thousand Buddha Bell in Hae Yeon’s hand made the long shaft ring like a bell.

“Ghk!”

“U-ugh!”

Those surging forward all vomited blood at once.

The resonant ringing destabilized their insides the moment they felt it.

Seeing those behind shaken so, one could imagine without looking what the man struck directly in front must look like.

Convulsing like a bell struck by a striker, he spewed blood from his seven orifices and collapsed.

“Amitabha.”

Hae Yeon reached out and gently supported the collapsing body.

Then he carefully set it down on the ground.

Breathing slightly hard, he looked forward to see the Evil Sect warriors in dense formation swallowing nervously, unable to charge.

It couldn’t be helped.

From fist techniques to spear techniques, then shoulder methods, joint techniques, finger techniques, even sound-based gong methods.

It seemed as if all the world’s martial arts flowed from Hae Yeon’s hands.

Whether sparring or fighting to the death, one must predict an opponent’s attacks to fight.

But his movements were beyond prediction.

All martial techniques that could be displayed without weapons unfolded at his fingertips.

Shaolin, the cradle of Central Plains martial arts.

Though he had left Shaolin of his own accord, Hae Yeon had perfectly inherited its martial arts.

The distilled martial essence of a thousand-year Shaolin unleashed unabated from the tip of his fist.

Before that profound martial essence, those who opposed him felt an overwhelming powerlessness.

The depth before their eyes was like a lake so deep its bottom never showed.

Squeeze.

Hae Yeon quietly clenched his fist.

Could he have fought like this in the past?

Probably impossible.

Knowing and doing are different.

No matter how much one learns, making it one’s own is another matter.

Buddhist law is the same.

‘Knowing is not everything.’

Who among those who study the Dharma wouldn’t know what the scriptures say?

Yet though everyone knows the words, no one comprehends their meaning.

Sitting only within the cramped Zen halls teaches nothing.

What the Buddha wished was for individuals to attain enlightenment themselves and thereby save sentient beings.

If you do not know the lives of the beings you seek to save, you cannot truly realize anything.

You must roll through the very bottom of the world those beings live in.

Before leaving Shaolin, he had only known the martial arts superficially.

What embodied it for him was grueling training and harsh, unforgiving real combat.

The man who had once settled for mere knowledge finally accepted with his body the path he wished to walk.

It was thanks to an intensely questioning heart and a reality hard to bear.

‘Shaolin.’

Hae Yeon wanted to shout.

Open those tightly shut doors and come out into the world.

Throw off that arrogant yellow robe and return to the monk’s true life.

There is an arrogance in claiming only Shaolin can save the world and the Jianghu under the guise of salvation.

How can you not see it?

While they discuss the Dharma in lofty seclusion, blood flows in some corner of the world.

Someone else dies clutching a hungry belly.

Their compassion, when speaking of greater meaning, only looks where the sun shines.

Therefore, the place he must be is right here.

Even if Shaolin is not wrong, it’s still the same.

It is undeniable that there are worlds Shaolin does not illuminate.

The one who must look after those places is Hae Yeon, who stepped out there of his own feet.

“I won’t hear of retreat. Amitabha.”

Hae Yeon bowed his head and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, a resolute will shone in his eyes.

“Then just forgive me.”

Bang!

Hae Yeon surged forward.

Pushing aside spears thrust wildly at him, he twisted open a nonexistent path and stepped further along it.

A path none of Shaolin’s disciples had ever walked.

It is a road only those who are Shaolin disciples yet refuse to be merely Shaolin disciples can walk.

Lonely, painful, it stings with every step.

But still, the reason Hae Yeon can walk it is simple.

“Where do you think you’re going, you bastards!”

Fwaaah!

A swift sword from behind instantly struck down the spearblade that had been heading for his head.

Hae Yeon, sensing the situation without looking up, smiled faintly.

Yes. He still found them uneasy.

Moreover, the road Hae Yeon walked was a thorny path no one could help with—one that must be trod on one’s own feet.

But until he reaches where he is going, they will always watch his back.

They needn’t push his back. Just walking alongside him provides solace.

That’s what people are.

“Don’t get cocky, Taoist Jo Gul!”

“Yes? Ah, no...?”

Hae Yeon didn’t wait for Jo Gul’s words and stepped forward.

Jo Gul shouted something from behind, but he only smiled faintly.

‘It’s so uncomfortable.’

That’s why it matters more.

It’s easy for those who are comfortable with each other to move forward together.

Relying on each other’s backs despite discomfort.

Staying together even in the face of all hardships.

That is what it means to be human.

“A—mi—ta—bha! Come!”

With Hae Yeon’s sonorous shout, his fist was thrown.

A spear blade brushed his cheek and blood spattered, but Hae Yeon paid it no mind and moved on.

One step. Another step.

A path that, if not him, someone else must open through suffering—he walked it silently.