Chapter 16: Martial Alliance Assassination Unit
The return route of Yul Han’s group followed the eastern edge of Tibet, just like on the way in.
From Changdu of Tibet, passing through Zhengqing and Paqing, we entered the Cheonghae Region, then took the road again toward the Heavenly Mountains of Xinjiang.
That route lay entirely within the domain of the Heavenly Dragon Temple, a place we had already experienced once. Perhaps because of that, after entering Tibet, our group encountered no interference whatsoever.
It became another confirmation that the promise of the revered master Miru was being properly upheld.
Perhaps because that put him in a good mood, Cold Blade Blood grew unusually talkative.
As I gazed calmly at Cold Blade Blood, who kept chattering nonstop in front of the campfire we had lit at our campsite, the corner of my eyes subtly furrowed.
I had sensed a formidable presence approaching. Realizing my state, Cold Blade Blood shut his mouth, and Flashing Light Blood rotated his sword forward into an easy-draw position.
Then, a moment later, a monk with a shaved head and a towering eight-chi frame barged into our campsite.
“Haah, haah. Good grief. I heard the story at the Heavenly Dragon Temple and rushed after you belatedly, worried I might miss you. I nearly worked myself to death running here.”
Judging from the streams of aura pouring out of him, he was clearly a master with tremendous internal energy, yet seeing him panting like that just from running made little sense.
That did not, however, lower the level of danger in the slightest.
Just looking at how tense Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood were made it easy to guess how dangerous this monk was, even as he bent at the waist and gasped for breath.
And yet…
“It seems you came in quite a hurry. Would you care for a cup of tea?”
At my calm question, the giant monk forced himself to straighten his back and replied.
“Oh! You’d give me some?”
“It isn’t fine tea, but if you don’t mind, please have a seat.”
No sooner had I finished speaking than he trotted over and sat beside me, the sight making us look like an adult and a child sitting side by side.
Under the awkward gazes of Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood, I personally poured the tea and handed it to the monk.
“Hot—”
Before I could even finish speaking, the monk brought the teacup straight to his mouth and sprang up in surprise.
“Ah! Hot!”
At that, I smiled bitterly and finished my sentence.
“…So telling you to be careful ended up being pointless.”
“You could’ve said it a bit sooner.”
“That’s true.”
As I nodded readily with a smile, the giant monk stared at me for a moment, then broke into a grin.
“Hahaha. This is why you can’t trust rumors. They say you’re the greatest bastard alive, a Human Butcher, but meeting you in person, you’re more upright and calm than those sharp-tongued dogs of the Central Plains.”
“A bastard, a Human Butcher… Is that my evaluation?”
“You didn’t know? That’s mild by our Tibetan standards. Among the Hundred Paths dogs of the Central Plains, even worse things are going around.”
“I see. I was unaware.”
Believing my answer at face value, the giant monk nodded without hesitation.
After all, he thought there was no one among the Hundred Paths of the Central Plains with the guts to babble like that in front of me.
No— even if there were, they wouldn’t have survived after saying it.
“Anyway, let’s properly introduce ourselves. I’m Monk Eightfold Confusion. People call me a Living Buddha and all that, but I’m just a worthless monk. An upper-tier monk who sits around stuffing his belly by wagging his tongue while living off the rice offered by sentient beings.”
Living Buddha, Monk Eightfold Confusion.
He was the strongest expert of the current Potala Palace and the de facto ruler of Tibet.
Though he looked to be in his mid-forties, he was in truth an aged monk well over a hundred years old.
Just hearing his name was enough to make even Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood fail to hide their shock—proof of just how powerful he was.
No matter who said otherwise, he was one of the absolute rulers of the Four Heavenly Forces that divided and governed the martial world.
Even after learning his identity, my reaction remained as calm as it had been from the start.
“Nice to meet you. I am Yul Han.”
“You prove that worldly rumors are nonsense, yet looking again, it seems they weren’t entirely baseless either.”
“What… do you mean by that?”
“‘The greatest under heaven of the current age.’ Another assessment of you carried by rumor. I thought it exaggerated, but meeting you in person, that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
“And what makes you think so?”
“Those who hear my name usually fall into three types. Those who try desperately to befriend me, those who flee without condition, and those who tremble in fear—like those two over there.”
Startled at being singled out, Cold Blade Blood burst out angrily.
“I-I’m not trembling in fear!”
Though he shouted in protest, the way he was gripping his sword tightly was the very picture of someone scared stiff.
At that sight, Monk Eightfold Confusion snickered.
“See?”
“Yes. I suppose so.”
At my acknowledgment that he was afraid, Cold Blade Blood’s eyes drooped, and he couldn’t utter a word.
Sticking out his tongue teasingly at Cold Blade Blood, Monk Eightfold Confusion then turned his gaze back to me.
“But you don’t belong to any of those categories.”
“And that alone is why you say I am strong?”
“It means you’re that confident. More than the thick killing intent that leaks out just by standing still, more than the demonic energy that must be immensely sealed within you, that confidence frightens me the most.”
“Do I frighten you?”
“Within our Potala Palace, there exists an internal art called the Mighty Power Vajra. Though it is called an internal art, it is in truth a kind of qigong. It sharpens internal energy like a blade and thrusts it about indiscriminately. When that happens, those whose internal energy is inferior to the user’s shrink back without even realizing it. That’s why those two over there weren’t frightened for no reason.”
“Did you use it on us?”
“Hey now. That means your internal energy is so terrifying that you didn’t even feel it. Just how much could it be? Fifteen cycles? Twenty cycles? No matter how modestly I estimate it, it must be more than mine, so how could I not be afraid?”
“The height of martial arts is not determined by internal energy.”
To be honest, Yul Han struggled quite a bit to understand what he had just said.
The realizations conveyed by memories and knowledge that were not originally his own were of an extremely high level.
Waking up in Yul Han’s body and gathering those overwhelming realizations that poured in over several days had been harder than calming the shock of awakening in a body that was not his own.
To the point that, even though they were realizations perfectly remembered by the physical body, there were still parts he did not fully comprehend.
The great art known as the Sixfold Plum Ghost Soul was a representative example. He could scarcely grasp the realizations contained within it.
Unaware of any of this, Monk Eightfold Confusion could not hide his surprise at Yul Han’s words.
“Don’t tell me you’ve already reached that point? I only understood as much as thinking internal energy couldn’t be everything.”
“If you take just one more step, you’ll see something else.”
“One step, huh… I still have a long road ahead. Heh heh. Looks like I’ll only get to step there in my next life.”
“How could you—”
“Looks aside, I’m over a hundred years old. Scrambling desperately to reach higher realms and live longer has become unbecoming at my age. That’s why I set out on my travels, isn’t it? I’ve grown tired of the looks from the underlings of my order who keep wondering when I’ll finally die.”
It was nonsense.
Even if the Potala Palace had lost much of its former splendor compared to the past, by his existence alone it still stood tall as the foremost power of Tibet.
“Surely that can’t be the case.”
At Yul Han’s words, Monk Eightfold Confusion looked back at him with renewed eyes. As far as he knew, Yul Han was not someone who lived in a place where such words would naturally come from.
“They say the Bright Cult is even more heartless. Surely that too is just an empty rumor?”
“How could there be no affection where people live? The fact that these two came all this way without sparing any effort for my sake would be impossible without affection.”
“That’s because it was a strict order from above—”
“Do they look like people who followed me here against their will because of an order?”
At Yul Han’s counterquestion, Monk Eightfold Confusion looked at Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood, who were staring back at him blankly, then clicked his tongue.
“Tsk. This is exactly why rumors can’t be trusted.”
Those who are forced to follow by order alone lack enthusiasm. Their minds are filled with the desire to finish quickly and return.
But the expressions of Cold Blade Blood and Flashing Light Blood held nothing but concern and worry for the Vice Cult Leader. It was a sincere desire to protect Yul Han.
Seeing that at a glance, Monk Eightfold Confusion could raise no objection to Yul Han’s words.
Because of that, the perplexed gaze of Monk Eightfold Confusion turned toward the distant left.
He had sensed other uninvited guests approaching, besides himself.
Yul Han seemed to have sensed it as well and asked calmly.
“Do you have companions?”
“I do not. There’s a faint trace of Buddhist power in the approaching aura, but it’s different from anything belonging to our Potala Palace or any sect of Tibet. That means it’s from the Central Plains.”
As Monk Eightfold Confusion said, Yul Han nodded, recognizing that the sensation from the approaching presence differed from the aura he felt from Monk Eightfold Confusion himself.
Looking at Yul Han, Monk Eightfold Confusion continued.
“Still, it seems there’s at least one capable fellow mixed in over there.”
“Shall I help you?”
At Yul Han’s question, Monk Eightfold Confusion stared at him blankly and asked back.
“You just said you’d help? Are you saying they’ve come to capture me?”
“Martial artists of the Central Plains have entered Tibet without permission, so… I believe it concerns you, Monk.”
“Well then…”
He had no rebuttal.
Yul Han’s group was passing through territory of the Heavenly Dragon Temple that had been agreed upon in advance, making them guests of a sort rather than intruders.
And so—
“Hngh. Looks like I’ll have to play gatekeeper, a role not written in my fate.”
The moment Monk Eightfold Confusion rose from his seat with those words, the Martial Alliance Assassination Unit burst into the campsite.
Their bold charge into the campsite was all well and good, but the one they ran into was not.
“How dare— you Central Plains rabble— ah! Sorry. That remark wasn’t directed at you.”
At Monk Eightfold Confusion’s words, spoken as he stopped mid-sentence and glanced back, Yul Han could only smile bitterly.
He understood that Monk Eightfold Confusion had vented his irritation in his own way toward Yul Han.
In any case, turning his gaze back to the Martial Alliance Assassination Unit, Monk Eightfold Confusion continued.
“How dare Central Plains rabble set foot upon the great land of Tibet without permission. Even if you die and fall into the lowest hell, you will have no right to complain!”
Perhaps because they were fellow monks, the Four Vajra Guardians and the Eighteen Arhats wore awkward expressions.
Stepping forward instead was the Thirty-Six Beggar Leaders’ Chief, a man of the Beggars’ Sect whose mouth lost to no one.
“Where did this dog’s bone of a—”
As the Thirty-Six Beggar Leaders’ Chief was in the middle of spewing curses, the Taiji Sword Emperor stepped in and grabbed his shoulder.
“Please wait a moment.”
“Why are you stopping me? I’ll step in and neatly crush that worthless monk—”
Shaking his head to stop him, the Taiji Sword Emperor asked,
“By any chance… are you Monk Eightfold Confusion?”
“That’s right. I am Monk Eightfold Confusion, the uppermost monk among Tibet’s worthless monks. And you look exactly like the Taiji Sword Emperor, the head sharp-tongue of Wudang.”
“I’m not the head, but… comrades of the martial world do indeed call this poor monk the Taiji Sword Emperor.”
“Then I was right. The head sharp-tongue of Wudang.”
At Monk Eightfold Confusion’s jab, the Taiji Sword Emperor could not laugh. That was because he had noticed the man slowly rising behind Monk Eightfold Confusion was the Vice Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult.
In other words, it meant that the foremost expert of Tibet and the man called the greatest under heaven, the Vice Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult, were standing in the same place.
Moreover, the Thirty-Six Beggar Leaders’ Chief had gone utterly blank upon realizing he had hurled abuse at Monk Eightfold Confusion, the foremost expert of Tibet, and at the rapid sound transmission of a Beggars’ Sect disciple who rushed forward in his stead, the Taiji Sword Emperor’s gaze hardened even further.