Episode 120: The Three-Eyed Buddha
On the road from Kaifeng to Luoyang, Yujin Gwang’s face was alight with joy.
“Looks like my life is finally turning around.”
For years, Yujin Gwang had lived under the shadow of his father’s misdeeds, constantly on edge and burdened by the pressure to prove himself. Even as he gambled, he knew it wouldn’t change his future. He clung to hope just to keep from collapsing, but deep down, his heart was always festering.
Yet, as if by some miracle, fortune had smiled upon him. And not just a small stroke of luck, but a monumental one, the kind that might only come once in a lifetime.
This great fortune even brought more luck in its wake, so it was no wonder that Yujin Gwang looked at Tang Mujin and Hong Geolgae with such anticipation.
“Just one more success, and I’ll be set.”
Meeting the master of the gambling house meant rolling the dice twice. Each win would double his money, quadrupling his current wealth.
Yujin Gwang calculated the money he would soon have and the debts of the Jeomchang Sect. Even after paying off all the debts and interest, there would be plenty left over.
If everything went according to plan, the Jeomchang Sect wouldn’t have to worry about operating costs for a while.
For the first time, the people of the Jeomchang Sect would taste prosperity, and their goodwill towards Yujin Gwang would surely blossom. His father would regain his honor, and Yujin Gwang’s days as a pariah would be over.
The possibility of losing to the gambling master had long been forgotten. Yujin Gwang was already riding high on the dragon that was Tang Mujin’s group, soaring through the skies. No mere dice could stand in the way of a dragon.
“Once I pay off the debts and return to Yunnan, they might even consider me for the next sect leader.”
It might be a stretch, but it wasn’t entirely out of the question.
With a genial smile, Yujin Gwang turned to Tang Mujin.
“If I’d known things would turn out like this, I wouldn’t have complained about paying for lodging. I should have been the one offering money to keep you around. I didn’t recognize a benefactor when I saw one…”
But Tang Mujin had a different perspective. Unlike Hong Geolgae, he didn’t consider himself particularly lucky.
“Now’s not the time to let your guard down.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Do you remember the merchant caravan that passed us three days ago?”
Yujin Gwang tried to recall, but there were so many caravans traveling between Kaifeng and Luoyang that he couldn’t pinpoint which one Tang Mujin was referring to.
“Which caravan are you talking about?”
“The one with no mules, only four pack horses.”
Now he remembered.
A small caravan would typically use cheaper mules or donkeys, but this one, with fewer than ten people, had four pack horses, which had caught Yujin Gwang’s attention, though he hadn’t thought much of it at the time.
“Was there something wrong with them?”
“Among them was someone we met at the cockfighting den in Nanchang. Do you remember the man who watched us from the upper floor when we entered?”
“I vaguely recall… but it didn’t seem worth worrying about.”
Coincidences happen, especially when traveling. It’s not unusual to run into familiar faces. Merchants, who travel long distances, are even more likely to cross paths repeatedly.
Tang Mujin shook his head.
“The problem is that the same man was in the caravan we passed the next day, and again in the one we passed on the third day. And it wasn’t just him. The same faces keep appearing in the caravans around us.”
Yujin Gwang’s expression grew serious. If Tang Mujin’s observations were accurate, this was beyond coincidence.
Moreover, Yujin Gwang had a good idea of who might be tracking Tang Mujin’s group.
“Could it be the Salmak?”
“Most likely.”
“Did they show up today?”
“No, which is why I’m even more concerned.”
When a constant watcher suddenly disappears, it usually means one of two things: either they’ve stopped watching, or they’re about to make a move.
And in Tang Mujin’s view, there was no reason for the Salmak to suddenly stop their surveillance.
When Yujin Gwang relayed this to the Wei brothers, they passed the message to the rest of the group.
They altered their course slightly, heading up a nearby hill.
In the distance, they saw a caravan stopped in the direction they were headed.
Nothing unusual about that. The problem was that it was already the hour of the rooster, and the sun would soon set. A caravan that had stopped should be bustling with preparations for the night.
But no one in the distant group was gathering firewood, lighting fires, or preparing meals. They were simply sitting, waiting for something.
Yujin Gwang muttered, “Suspicious.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Can we shake them off?”
“Unlikely.”
“Then we should confront them before they attack us.”
The group slowly approached the suspicious caravan.
There were only seven people in the caravan, and the goods on their cart were just straw piled up to look like more.
As they stopped, Yujin Gwang spoke up.
“Let’s assess the situation first. Miss Dan and Physician Chu, stay back no matter what happens.”
Dan Seol-young nodded and handed Tang Mujin two bamboo tubes. While the others couldn’t identify them, Tang Mujin recognized them immediately as improved versions of the Heavenly Needle Tubes.
“You said they worked well last time, right? I put even more effort into these. They’re smaller but much more powerful.”
Tang Mujin tucked the tubes away, a small smile playing on his lips. Just having such a trump card was reassuring.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Five people advanced towards the suspicious caravan: Tang Mujin, Namgung Myung, and the Jeomchang Sect’s Yujin Gwang, along with the Wei brothers.
As they closed to within a hundred paces, they were certain. None of the seven were ordinary merchants. They were all martial artists, and worse, they had all surpassed the pinnacle.
Wei Hwan muttered, “This won’t be easy.”
“Should we retreat?”
“No. If we retreat now, they’ll catch us from behind, and it’ll be even more dangerous.”
Tang Mujin thought of the Jeomchang Sect’s warriors waiting behind them. About ten first-rate martial artists. Even if trouble arose, they had a fighting chance.
Finally, when the two groups were within twenty steps, Yujin Gwang stepped forward and greeted them.
“Hello there.”
The other group seemed to stare blankly at them, but then one man stepped forward and returned the greeting with a light nod.
“Nice to meet you. What brings you here?”
He wore a wide robe, had sharp eyes, and a smile that seemed more mocking than friendly.
“We were just passing through and noticed you had already set up camp, so we thought we’d come over.”
“If that was all that concerned you, why didn’t you bring the rest of your group along?”
Tang Mujin frowned.
“So, you know exactly how many of us there are.”
“Of course. You’re dragging a bunch of Jeomchang Sect warriors through our territory. Did you think we wouldn’t notice? The Salmak’s reputation isn’t that flimsy.”
It seemed there was a misunderstanding. But before Tang Mujin could speak again, Yujin Gwang interjected.
“I hear you’ve been hovering around us for days. What’s your intention?”
“No need to be curious just yet. By tonight, you won’t be able to wonder anymore.”
So they planned to attack tonight. Yujin Gwang laughed heartily.
And in the next instant, he swung his sword with such speed it was almost invisible.
There was no need to ask what sword technique it was. It was the Splitting Light Sword Technique, known for its blinding speed.
But the opponent was also a master. The smiling man crossed two daggers to block Yujin Gwang’s sword.
“If you’re a righteous hero, shouldn’t you at least introduce yourself before attacking? I’m disappointed.”
“I don’t bother with formalities. And if you’re going to talk about that, at least try to look angry.”
“Haha!”
As the Wei brothers signaled, the Jeomchang Sect warriors and Hong Geolgae, who had been watching from afar, rushed to stand beside Tang Mujin and Yujin Gwang.
The opponents were seven masters. On their side were four masters and thirteen first-rate fighters. It wouldn’t be an easy fight, but the odds weren’t insurmountable.
Yujin Gwang spoke.
“Let’s take them out and have a peaceful night.”
With that, the Jeomchang Sect warriors charged at the enemy.
The clash of weapons rang out, the sound of metal on metal echoing around them.
The martial arts of the Jeomchang Sect were strikingly unique.
Unlike the soft, defensive swordplay of Wudang, the strong, balanced fist techniques of Shaolin, or the persistent yet flexible swordplay of Qingcheng, which all emphasized balance between offense and defense, the Jeomchang Sect’s swordplay was different. It disregarded defense entirely, focusing on swift, lethal strikes.
For them, defense seemed to mean only one thing: kill the opponent before they could be killed.
In the midst of the Great War, it became immediately clear why the Jeomchang Sect had suffered such heavy losses and why, despite being on the outskirts, it was considered one of the Nine Great Schools. Their swordsmanship was truly formidable.
In the first clash, casualties were immediate. Two first-rate warriors from Jeomchang fell dead, and two others were so severely injured they could no longer fight.
On the opposing side, a top-tier master was gravely wounded, his stomach and thigh pierced. Blood flowed freely, and without immediate treatment, death was certain.
A man with a faint smile murmured, “Such an extreme sword. How can they throw their lives away without a second thought? Don’t they value their lives?”
Yoo Jin-gwang chuckled softly at this. “Of course, life is precious. But with endless training, you learn to swing your sword without hesitation.”
“That’s a good method.”
The warriors clashed again. This time, the Jeomchang fighters launched another aggressive assault, seemingly ready to sacrifice their lives, but no one died. Their opponents had adopted an extremely defensive stance.
Dang Moo-jin swung his sword, occasionally retreating to throw needles. Unlike the battle at Nogunsan, there was no rain to obscure his needles, allowing the enemy to deflect them just in time.
Though a few needles found their mark, no one allowed enough to be hit to weave a deadly poison.
‘They’re not easy opponents.’
Amidst the chaos, a voice reached Dang Moo-jin’s ear. It was Yoo Jin-gwang’s voice, transmitted through sound transmission.
Dang Moo-jin, lacking the skill to reply in kind, simply responded aloud, “What?”
This was troubling news. If they were from the Black Path, it was manageable, but if the Demon Sect was involved, the situation was dire. Unlike the ordinary Black Path, the Demon Sect’s warriors were highly organized.
‘Why is the Demon Sect involved? No, I’ll think about that after the fight.’
Dang Moo-jin sheathed his sword and took needles in both hands. At Nogunsan, he could only throw needles with one hand and change direction once at best.
Now, he could throw with both hands and change direction twice in mid-air. His needles targeted hard-to-defend areas like the back of the head, back, and thighs.
Though he struggled to break through the wall of top-tier defense, Dang Moo-jin’s skills had clearly improved since the battle at Nogunsan.
Initially, it seemed his efforts were in vain, but as he persisted, his poisoned needles began to pierce the enemy’s defenses, creating small openings.
The Jeomchang warriors seized these opportunities, throwing themselves into the fray. Yet, the enemy remained huddled defensively like turtles.
‘Why are they so defensive?’
Dang Moo-jin’s mind was a whirl of confusion. It didn’t make sense.
The enemy had gauged their strength some time ago.
Why had they only gathered forces of equal strength? The infamous assassins could surely have mustered more.
And why had they stalled for so long? Were they waiting for something?
Dang Moo-jin had no answers.
Blood pooled on the ground, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, the hills and fields were bathed in a fiery red.
In the distance, a figure approached, silhouetted against the sunset. Even from afar, it was clear this person was trained in martial arts.
Dang Moo-jin squinted, trying to discern the newcomer’s appearance. The figure had a shaven head and wore gray robes.
If he was a monk from Shaolin, he was surely an ally. Dang Moo-jin shouted loudly, “A high monk from Shaolin is coming to help us!”
“That’s good!”
But as the monk drew closer, Dang Moo-jin, Namgung Myung, and the Jeomchang warriors all sensed something was amiss.
A strange pressure made it difficult to continue fighting. The monk exuded an eerie aura.
The assassins from the enemy side, who had been fighting half-heartedly, grinned and retreated.
All eyes were fixed on the approaching monk.
He was much larger than an average person, his skin a dark gray, and scars covered the skin visible outside his robes.
The scars weren’t just a metaphor or exaggeration. It was as if his entire body was cloaked in them.
Among the many scars, the most striking was a long, horizontal slash across his forehead.
It had healed wide open, leaving a scar as thick as half a finger.
The scar resembled a third eye, half-open, watching everyone around.
Neither Dang Moo-jin, Namgung Myung, nor any of the Jeomchang warriors had met this monk before. But there was only one monk in the world with such a distinctive appearance.
Namgung Myung muttered under his breath, “The Three-Eyed Buddha…”
The Three-Eyed Buddha. Once a monk of Shaolin, he had been expelled and joined the Demon Sect.
Though not one of the Six Lords, he had been known to have reached the pinnacle of martial arts for over twenty years.
The assassins and their group dragged the bodies of their fallen comrades and bowed before the Three-Eyed Buddha.
Much was now clear.
The figures with the assassins were indeed from the Demon Sect.
And the reason they hadn’t attacked directly but lingered around.
The Three-Eyed Buddha spoke.
“You’ve left quite a few alive.”
The Three-Eyed Buddha regarded Dang Moo-jin’s group and the Jeomchang warriors not as opponents, but as prey.
The next action would be the hunt. Dang Moo-jin, Namgung Myung, and Hong Geolgae all felt an overwhelming fear they couldn’t resist.
Even if they all attacked the Three-Eyed Buddha together, they couldn’t win, and six top-tier masters still surrounded him.
No matter how optimistically they thought, there was no chance of victory.
“Damn it! Let’s run!”
Hong Geolgae shouted, trying to dispel his fear. His voice was so loud that a flock of drowsy pigeons nearby took flight in alarm.
But the Jeomchang warriors didn’t retreat. So neither could Dang Moo-jin and Namgung Myung.
‘Are my legs frozen?’
No. A first-rate warrior from Jeomchang lowered his stance and charged forward, sword raised.
“Ahhh!”
The Three-Eyed Buddha, amused, extended his large right hand and grasped the warrior’s head.
It was such a natural movement that it seemed the warrior had willingly placed his head in the Buddha’s grip.
In the next moment, the Buddha’s hand clenched, and the Jeomchang warrior’s head was crushed. It was a horrific sight, and nausea welled up inside.
“Run!”
Hong Geolgae shouted again. A small stroke of luck was powerless against overwhelming force.
Yet the Jeomchang warriors didn’t retreat. Instead, they slowly advanced, without exception.
“Run?”
Yoo Jin-gwang looked at the sunset, then at the Three-Eyed Buddha.
“The Jeomchang Sect serves the legacy of Hou Yi. We are martial artists, but we choose to be arrows for the descendants.”
“You’ll all die!”
When Hong Geolgae shouted again, Yoo Jin-gwang asked back, “So what?”
Yoo Jin-gwang grinned.
“Is there an arrow that fears breaking and refuses to leave the bow?”
With those words, the Jeomchang warriors raised their swords and charged at the Three-Eyed Buddha.
There was no hesitation in their steps.
“Haha!”
With a dull thud, blood splattered, and the sound of something breaking echoed.
Dang Moo-jin, Namgung Myung, and Hong Geolgae’s legs trembled. They couldn’t completely shake off their fear like the Jeomchang warriors.
But in the end, they couldn’t run. Resigned to their fate, they charged at the Three-Eyed Buddha.