Murim School Record - Chapter 23

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 23: Jade Gate (3)

Even the warrior monks who did nothing but eat and train in martial arts daily found their progress glacial—such was the nature of Shaolin’s disciplines.
For someone in the Kitchen Hall, spending their days cooking and serving, to achieve profound understanding and reach a formidable level was nearly impossible.

‘I’ll become like So Chiman someday. I will.’

Every morning when Seol Yeochul woke, he invoked that name and steeled his resolve.
So Chiman was a figure from the Shaolin Kitchen Hall long ago.
A Shaolin monk had found him abandoned by the roadside during alms rounds, brought him back, and raised him in the Kitchen Hall.
The martial art he learned was the Luohan Fist.
By the time he reached twenty, his Luohan Fist had attained a level equal to that of Shaolin’s greatest masters.
Even the most respected elder monks of Shaolin could not match him.
Throughout Shaolin and countless sects across the Jianghu, he was the only one from the Kitchen Hall—not even a formal disciple—to rise to the rank of First-Class Master.
“Huff—huff—huff! Mobaek!”
Seol Yeochul approached with ragged breath.
“Will you spar with me? If I just keep punching that tree over there, I won’t even know if I’m getting stronger or not.”
Since there was still time before dawn prayer, I Mobaek rose from where he sat.
“Of course. If you can become the greatest master under heaven, I’ll help however I can.”
Seol Yeochul frowned.
“Why do you keep saying things like that?”
“You said it yourself. A man should always dream big.”
“Fine, fine. Since you’ve got higher aspirations, I’ll go all out.”
“Good.”
The two stood at a proper distance from each other.
Thump.
Seol Yeochul spread his feet and clenched his fists.
It was the Stance Form of the Luohan Fist—the Luohan Path to Heaven.
The path of the Luohan should ultimately reach toward heaven, or so the meaning went, but the posture looked awkward.
I Mobaek furrowed his brow.
“Is that really the Luohan Path to Heaven?”
“What? Something wrong with it?”
“Do you really need to bend your knees like that?”
“Yes.”
“Comfortable, is it? That stance?”
“Very uncomfortable. But that’s what they teach.”
Whoosh.
I Mobaek assumed a stance of his own.
It resembled riding a horse—the so-called Horse Stance.
“That looks wrong. Why would a stance form bend the knees and stick the rear out? Try straightening your knees.”
“Like this?”
He angled his body diagonally, rising more upright—the movement looked sharper, and the target area of his upper body reduced.
“How’s that?”
“Hey, I like that better.”
“Go with that stance.”
“Will it be all right?”
“When Dae-un comes later, we’ll ask him about it in detail. For now, start from that position.”
The moment he finished speaking, Seol Yeochul stepped forward and threw a punch.
His left fist extended—it was fast.
Swift.
He pulled his head back lightly to evade it.
Swoosh.
The right fist came in with speed, exactly as he’d anticipated.
He shifted his steps to the left, slipping both strikes in succession.
Seol Yeochul closed the distance further.
Boom.
Thud-thud-thud.
As the distance closed, his left and right fists drove relentlessly toward the belly and ribs.
Hah!
Hah-hah-hah!
He drove the punches forward with a sharp cry, putting everything into the attack.
I Mobaek slipped them by the narrowest margin.
It was a matter of spirit.
Commonly called morale.
If he dodged too easily, with too much composure, the burning desire and passion that filled Seol Yeochul’s chest would cool and fade.
Thump!
“You alright?”
Seol Yeochul started in surprise.
The punch had grazed I Mobaek’s jaw, but a graze was still a hit.
“Your fists are no joke, brother. Whew.”
I Mobaek rubbed his grazed jaw.
“Thank you. I mean it, thank you.”
Seol Yeochul steadied his breathing and wiped the sweat from his face.
Whoosh!
At that moment, people descended from above.
Monks of Shaolin.
“Welcome.”
The two men pressed their palms together in salute toward Womu.
“Is the meal prepared?”
“Yes!”
“Distribute it at once.”
The monks picked up alms bowls and chopsticks from the side, received rice and side dishes, and moved on.
The aroma of food spread through the air, and the monks settled here and there among the trees to eat.
“Those who want more, please take another serving.”
I Mobaek called out.
Then he approached a monk who was eating.
“Dae-un.”
“Ah, I Mobaek. What brings you here?”
The monk, who appeared to be in his late thirties, smiled.
“After the meal, could you perhaps show me the Luohan Fist Stance Form once?”
“The Luohan Fist Stance Form?”
“My friend Seol over there is practicing the Luohan Fist, and he’s having trouble with the stance.”
“Is that so remarkable? Wait until after we’ve finished eating.”
He set down his alms bowl and rose at once, prompting I Mobaek to quickly gesture toward Seol Yeochul.
Seol Yeochul hurried over and watched as Dae-un assumed the Luohan Fist Stance Form.
“Loose and light.”
“Oh, that’s exactly the same as what Mobaek showed me.”
“Thank you, Dae-un.”
“Whenever you’re curious, just ask.”
Seol Yeochul bowed deeply and offered his gratitude.
It was no simple matter, not having shaved his head and entered to study martial arts as a primary purpose.
Most monks who were asked to teach either claimed they had no time, or some even scolded the Kitchen Hall worker for wondering what use martial arts could possibly be.
“Mobaek, you’re studying the Hundred Step Divine Fist—how is it you don’t understand the Luohan Fist Stance Form? Your posture just now was nearly identical to Dae-un’s.”
The Stance Form refers to the preparatory position that allows a martial art to be deployed most comfortably while displaying maximum power.
Naturally, the more refined the Stance Form, the stronger the martial art becomes.
“The Luohan Fist and the Hundred Step Divine Fist are both fist methods. Moreover, they’re both martial arts from the Muscle Change Scripture that Bodhidharma created—”
“So there isn’t much difference between them?”
“The Hundred Step Divine Fist is about destructive power, while the Luohan Fist is about speed. When throwing a fast punch, the stance you took seemed quite wrong. Have you ever heard of the Knee Step?”
“The Knee Step?”
“All warriors who approach the emperor do so on their knees. When moving on your knees, you’re inherently vulnerable to ambush. Conversely, the emperor feels safer because his opponent is already kneeling.”
Seol Yeochul’s eyes gleamed.
Why was Mobaek bringing up the Knee Step?
“The more you bend your knees, the slower your reflexes become. How could you possibly showcase the speed of the Luohan Fist from such a cramped position? I had a direct sense that you’d learned something incorrectly, so I tried that posture instead.”
Seol Yeochul’s mouth fell open.
And in that moment, the face of one person came to mind.

Seol Yeochul was scrubbing dishes diligently in the stream that ran through the valley.
He’d been washing up while humming to himself when he suddenly froze.
Clumps of something yellowish had come drifting downstream.
At first, he’d taken them for autumn leaves stained ochre.
But the clumps began to scatter and dissolve.
An odd feeling seized him. He fished one out with his palm and brought it to his nose.

“Ughhhhh!”

He shrieked and plunged his hand back into the water, scrubbing frantically.
The yellowish clumps were excrement.
Hardly anyone at Shaolin didn’t know that this stream was used for the Kitchen Hall’s dishwater.
The fact that fecal matter was floating down meant someone had deliberately squatted over the valley stream and done their business.

‘What bastard would do this? I’ll wring his neck.’
‘It was me.’

Cheongmong was descending along the valley path.
Seol Yeochul’s eyes blazed, but he couldn’t bring himself to curse.
The man was mad as a hatter, but he was the highest-ranking master in all of Shaolin.

“Isn’t that going too far? You knew perfectly well I was down here washing dishes, and you just dropped your filth anyway.”
“I said I didn’t know. Consider this an apology—I’ll tell you the way to advancement.”
“No, thank you. I have dishes to wash. Please don’t bother me further.”
“Your name is Seol Yeochul, is it? Listen well to what I’m about to say. There is a man called I Mobaek. Never leave his side. If he tries to escape, grab him by the trouser leg and don’t let go, even if you have to drag yourself along. You absolutely cannot leave him. That man is destined to become the master of all under heaven one day. Do you understand me?”

He’d dismissed it then as the ravings of a madman, but suddenly those words from that day came flooding back.
‘Destined to become the master of all under heaven one day.’

Seol Yeochul placed the alms bowls he and I Mobaek had rinsed in the nearby valley into a large basin and loaded them onto the cart.
The monks would rest here for a time, but the two of them had to race onward to the second gathering point.
“Hiyah!”
I Mobaek cracked the whip from the driver’s seat.
Clop-clop-clop-clop!
The cart tore through the forest, leaving rough dust in its wake.
Womu watched the cart disappear into the distance.

‘I Mobaek.’

In truth, he’d known of I Mobaek for quite some time.
He’d heard the name back when he was still at Shaolin, before being dispatched to the Murim Alliance.

‘Tsk, tsk, tsk.’

He and Gongsan were fierce rivals.
The only path to succession at Shaolin was through supreme martial mastery.
So Womu, too, had been training without rest when suddenly the sound of a tongue clicking reached his ears.
He turned his head, and in the distance a massive bundle of firewood was approaching.
The wood had been stacked so high upon the carrier’s frame that the person bearing it was scarcely visible beneath it all.
But something remarkable was happening.
A man was pleading desperately with the woodcutter.

“Please, I beg you, put it down now. If people see, it will be terrible.”
“What if they do see?”
“Why would a monk be carrying my firewood? If anyone finds out, they’ll say I persuaded you to bear this load. Put it down at once, I’m telling you.”
“Ha! It brings back memories—those days when I first came to Shaolin and worked like a servant. How is it, eh? The form looks good, doesn’t it?”
“It looks magnificent. Absolutely magnificent. Now please, set it down.”

The man continued to beg and plead.
Thump!
Cheongmong set down the A-frame carrier against a massive tree and straightened up.

‘How about that? My carrying skills are something else, aren’t they?’
‘Absolutely, they are.’
‘You must be mad, agreeing with me like that.’

At the cold voice, I Mobaek turned his head.
Womu, who had been training in martial arts, approached.
Dressed in rough practice clothes, drenched in sweat, and radiating an uncommon presence, I Mobaek quickly brought his palms together in greeting.

‘What’s the matter, sir?’
‘Are you truly ignorant? How dare you let the Elder Womu carry a freight A-frame.’
‘I didn’t order him to. Cheongmong — he just suddenly decided to do it, saying it reminded him of the old days, and snatched it away.’

Crack!
A fist shot toward I Mobaek, but it was blocked.
Cheongmong grinned wickedly.

‘Your reflexes are far too slow. Tsk tsk!’

Then he turned away.

‘Mobaek. Let’s go our own way.’

I Mobaek quickly shouldered the A-frame and followed Cheongmong down the path.
Staying behind would only mean taking more blows from Womu.
Even if he’d have to take some hits anyway, at this moment sticking with Cheongmong was the wisest choice.

After that day, I traced the movements between I Mobaek and Cheongmong closely.
The conclusion was that Cheongmong pursued I Mobaek unilaterally.
Naturally, I Mobaek avoided him.
He even hurled curses at the mad monk when Cheongmong was nowhere in sight.
When I Mobaek left Shaolin, he had forgotten about it for a time.
When we met again at the Murim Alliance, a strange report arrived from headquarters.

‘There’s a rumor that Cheongmong gave that man a Great Returning Pill.’

The Great Returning Pill.
A name that never grows tiresome, no matter how many times one hears it.
Shaolin possesses three treasures.
There is Bodhidharma’s Muscle Change Scripture, said to contain seventy-two secret techniques left by Bodhidharma, the Green Jade Buddha Statue symbolizing the sect leader, and the Great Returning Pill.
From Shaolin Temple’s perspective, none of the three treasures is without value, but if forced to choose only one, it would be the Great Returning Pill without question.
If nature’s greatest spiritual medicine is the Millennium Snow Ginseng or the Cloudy Green Stone Marrow, then the Great Returning Pill is the finest spiritual elixir ever crafted by human hands.
Made by Bodhidharma himself, its efficacy is limitless.
Among its effects, the most potent is the enhancement of internal energy.
Because of this, there had been no shortage of demons and rogues infiltrating Shaolin disguised as disciples, all seeking the Great Returning Pill.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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