The Great Heavenly Sword Emperor - Chapter 3

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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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#003. The Return of the King (1)

Bohyeon-sa was a temple renowned throughout the region.
Many people sought it out to offer Buddhist prayers, and the monks who dwelt there honored the Buddha’s teachings with genuine devotion.
So when rumors circulated that Bohyeon-sa was in fact an information organization, few believed them.
There was nothing about any of the monks residing there that suggested such a thing.
The day Cheon Mu-gyeol arrived at Bohyeon-sa.
That day too, the temple was crowded with visitors.
To Cheon Mu-gyeol’s eye, it seemed like nothing more than an ordinary temple—neither grander nor humbler than that.
Yet he did not turn back.
He wandered the grounds slowly, as though sightseeing, and waited for the visitors to thin.
But the stream of worshippers did not cease quickly.
Just when their numbers seemed to dwindle, another group would arrive, and the cycle would repeat.
At last, as the sun sank and the evening glow faded almost entirely, the temple grew quiet, and by the time dusk had nearly consumed the light, Cheon Mu-gyeol stood alone among the buildings.
Just as he was thinking it was time to make his move, a single monk approached him first.
“You’ve spent the whole day merely touring our temple. Is there some particular reason for your visit?”
The monk asked calmly, a faint smile on his face.
“There are rumors that this place is an information organization. I came to see if it was true.”
There was no point in beating around the bush.
Cheon Mu-gyeol asked directly.
“Hah, hah, hah. I have heard such rumors exist. But what do you think? Having observed our Bohyeon-sa all day, you should know better than anyone.”
The monk replied without hesitation, turning the question back on him.
“It seemed like an ordinary temple.”
“Is that what you sensed?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Your sensing is correct. Our Bohyeon-sa is a temple devoted to expounding the Buddha’s teachings.”
At the monk’s answer, Cheon Mu-gyeol nodded.
“Then I understand.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol replied readily.
“Is there some particular reason you seek an information organization? The way you waited here all day suggests the matter is quite important.”
The monk posed the question as if to keep Cheon Mu-gyeol from leaving.
Cheon Mu-gyeol turned to face the monk fully before he spoke.
“I don’t discuss my affairs with those from whom I have nothing to gain.”
“Hah. If I’ve offended you, I apologize. I asked out of simple curiosity, from the perspective of a Buddhist. Perhaps there’s no knowing—I might be of help.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol studied the monk silently for a moment, then opened his mouth.
“I recently came into possession of a coin, though it’s not currency used in daily commerce. It appears to be some organization’s symbol, but I can’t make sense of it, so I’m making inquiries.”
Yet Cheon Mu-gyeol did not produce the Silver Coin.
This too was a form of combat—a keen war of wits.
In any conflict, one does not reveal one’s hand first and create a disadvantage for oneself.
It was one of the many teachings of the Cheonshin Sword.
“I see. I’ve heard nothing about any matter involving coins. I’m sorry I cannot be of assistance.”
“Not at all. It’s only natural that Bohyeon-sa, being a temple and not an information organization, cannot help. Then, I’ll take my leave.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol turned to go.
“Even if the matter were different, should your heart grow weary and heavy at any time, you are welcome to return. This place exists to heal the spirit. I too shall pray that your worries are resolved soon.”
From behind Cheon Mu-gyeol’s back, the monk pressed his palms together in salutation.
Cheon Mu-gyeol departed from Bohyeon-sa without once looking back.

* * *

Because he had spent so long at Bohyeon-sa, darkness had settled considerably by the time he made his way back to the Inn.
Cheon Mu-gyeol walked slowly, taking in the night’s countenance, so different from the day’s vitality.
Some people ended their day with a sense of ease.
Some sought to wash away the day’s toil with a cup of wine.
And some endured labors longer and more grueling than most.
Cheon Mu-gyeol belonged to none of these—he simply walked toward his destination, the Inn, with steady steps.
As Cheon Mu-gyeol walked toward the Inn, his attention fixed on it alone, he suddenly altered his course.
He turned naturally into the alley that appeared just beside him.
The alley he’d entered was not the way to the inn.
Yet Cheon Mu-gyeol walked into it with the ease of familiarity, quickening his pace slightly.
After that, he changed direction several times over.
Following a series of right turns and left turns, what emerged before him was a dead end—no path forward.
Cheon Mu-gyeol turned slowly, positioning the dead end at his back.
Whoosh.
As if they’d been waiting, masked figures emerged from around the corner.
Ten of them, dressed in black martial robes and black masks.
The narrow alley was so packed with them that there seemed no gap through which to slip.
Cheon Mu-gyeol regarded them slowly, his expression unmoved.
“Not them.”
He let the words fall short and clipped.
He’d examined them wondering if they were the ones who’d attacked him at Cheongeom-jang, but they weren’t.
“Hand over what you have, and we’ll let you pass unharmed.”
One of the masked figures called out a warning toward him.
“So this is why you drove me to a dead end.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol threw the question out plainly.
From the moment he’d first entered the alley to the moment he’d arrived here, he had simply followed their intended path.
“No need for talk. Give us what you carry.”
“So that’s your purpose, then.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol drew out a silver coin.
Naturally, he kept the relief embossed upon it hidden beneath his finger.
“This object is important to me. I cannot comply.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol returned the silver coin to his pocket.
Scrape!
The masked figures drew their blades in unison.
“Seize it.”
They rushed at Cheon Mu-gyeol.
He watched them come without even loosening the leather wrapping of the Cheonshin Sword, letting it hang at his side.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
In the narrow confines of the alley where there was barely room to move, Cheon Mu-gyeol moved without constraint.
A graceful Movement Technique unfolded, sweeping through the cramped space without hesitation, striking each masked figure.
The leather-wrapped blade of the Cheonshin Sword buried itself ruthlessly into their bodies at multiple points.
They never managed to properly swing their swords, falling with humiliating ease.
All ten collapsed in moments, groaning in pain.
“I hadn’t expected it to go like this. You should have spoken reasonably from the start.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol knew the masked figures’ identities.
Though their faces and robes were concealed, the faint fragrance that clung to them revealed they were monks from Bohyeon-sa.
“Return now. When dawn breaks tomorrow, I’ll come to you, and we can speak properly then.”
With those words, Cheon Mu-gyeol stepped over the groaning bodies and left the alley.
It was a long time before those who had tried to rob him recovered enough to depart.

* * *

The next morning.
After finishing the meal the innkeeper had nervously prepared, Cheon Mu-gyeol left the inn.
Though the path to Bohyeon-sa was the same, the feeling of today differed from yesterday.
Following the path he’d come to know on his second visit, Cheon Mu-gyeol entered Bohyeon-sa to find its temple grounds quiet and serene, unlike the day before.
A monk who spotted him approached hesitantly, then bowed with palms pressed together.
“The Abbot awaits you. Please follow me.”
Without a word, Cheon Mu-gyeol followed the monk’s guidance toward the depths of Bohyeon-sa.
Beyond several buildings, deeper still.
After passing through several doors within, a Dharma Hall housing a Buddha statue appeared.
Before the golden Buddha, sitting in cross-legged meditation, was a figure.
Even from behind, Cheon Mu-gyeol recognized the monk he’d met yesterday.
“We meet again after just one day.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol spoke to the back of the monk’s head.
The monk then rose slowly from his seat and turned to face Cheon Mu-gyeol.
“We meet again, Patron.”
A monk bowed with palms pressed together and greeted Cheon Mu-gyeol.
“Please, sit over here.”
A small table stood between them, and the monk gestured to the seat across from him.
Cheon Mu-gyeol sat without protest in the place the monk had offered.
“I apologize for yesterday’s incident. Truly, I am sorry.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol gave no answer to this.
Still, the monk continued.
“Yesterday you came to Bohyeon-sa with a sword in hand. That’s why we couldn’t reveal everything hastily. You see, to people like us, a Martial Warrior is both a reassuring presence and a frightening one.”
“But that hardly justifies what happened last night.”
“No, you’re right. Truth be told, we weren’t after the silver coin itself. We needed to gauge your abilities. I apologize for that as well.”
“Is skill so important?”
“It is. If we face someone whose power we simply cannot match, an organization like ours could be destroyed at their whim.”
“What happened yesterday is precisely the path to greater calamity, in my judgment.”
“Perhaps. That’s why we didn’t bother hiding our identity. If we’d meant to deceive you and carry out something serious, we wouldn’t have sent monks who reeked of incense.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol found no value in answering the monk’s defense about revealing his identity.
“If your purpose in seeking Bohyeon-sa was information, then I ought to know precisely what this silver coin you mentioned is, so I might offer you equally precise information.”
At the monk’s words, Cheon Mu-gyeol drew a single silver coin from his robe and set it on the table.
“May I examine it closely?”
“Go ahead.”
At Cheon Mu-gyeol’s assent, the monk carefully picked up the coin and held it near his eyes, studying it intently.
A soft hum escaped him.
After examining the coin carefully, the monk placed it back on the table.
Cheon Mu-gyeol watched him in silence, and the monk, with difficulty, opened his mouth.
“It’s a silver coin I’ve never seen before.”
“Then there’s nothing more to discuss. I should take my leave.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol began to rise from his seat.
The monk hurried to speak.
“Wait, please. I said I’d never seen it before—I didn’t say I knew nothing of it.”
Cheon Mu-gyeol, half-risen, settled back down at those words.
“Then speak what you do know.”
“First, one thing. We are an information organization. We deal in information for a price.”
“I have no money.”
“Information’s price isn’t always money, is it? Information can be exchanged for information, can’t it?”
“Unfortunately, I have no information to offer.”
“On the contrary. I’m certain you have something to give.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“To us, you fell suddenly from the sky one day. Among all the people we know, there is no one like you.”
“What is it you want, then?”
“Recently, traces of slaughter have been found at the site where Cheongeom-jang once stood. There were no bodies, but the blood that painted the floor crimson remained untouched.”
“How does that concern me?”
A faint chuckle.
At Cheon Mu-gyeol’s answer, the monk laughed softly and ventured to ask.
“Are you not a survivor of Cheongeom-jang, which suffered a Family Massacre twenty years ago?”
Cheon Mu-gyeol regarded the monk steadily.

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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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