Episode 135: The Demon Sect

As Sam Anbul’s fist sliced through the air, the Great Protector drew his sword, deflecting the blow with precision. The clash of flesh and steel was fierce, yet the sword left no significant mark on Sam Anbul’s formidable fist.

Sure, there was a tear in the skin and a trickle of blood, but for warriors like Sam Anbul and the Great Protector, such wounds were mere scratches.

Sam Anbul’s attacks flowed seamlessly, like water. His strikes were not meant to be blocked head-on; matching his strength was nearly impossible, even for the most skilled martial artists.

Thud—

When Sam Anbul’s fist struck the ground, the impact left a deep crater in the floor of the house, echoing with a heavy sound.

Though Sam Anbul was now over seventy, his body had never weakened. It had only grown stronger since the day he was born. He had been defeated in the depths of martial arts before, but never due to a lack of physical strength. And he intended to keep it that way.

He swung his fists again, forcing the Great Protector, who had been deflecting awkwardly, to leap back and create distance.

Finally, Sam Anbul growled, demanding answers.

“Was it you who brought the spy?”

“You seem to live alone without subordinates, yet you’re quick to catch on to such things.”

“To steal the martial arts passed down to the sect leader?”

“Martial arts that the master neither intends to learn nor has the ability to master should be learned by someone, don’t you think?”

“You insolent fool!”

Sam Anbul shifted into a slanted stance, then launched himself forward with a light step, swinging his fists.

The Six Harmonies Fist. A renowned technique of the Shaolin Temple. Following that was another well-known technique, the Arhat Fist.

While both were Shaolin martial arts, they were not considered advanced techniques. The Six Harmonies Fist was a basic Shaolin technique, and the Arhat Fist was an intermediate technique learned by young monks who had mastered the Six Harmonies Fist. Only after mastering these could one be called a true monk.

For this reason, skilled monks rarely used the Six Harmonies or Arhat Fist once they reached a certain level. The Shaolin Temple had countless martial arts, and talented monks had no reason to cling to basic techniques.

However, in his youth, the only techniques Sam Anbul could observe without suspicion were the most common ones, like the Six Harmonies and Arhat Fist.

One day the Six Harmonies, the next the Arhat, and back again. More advanced techniques were too complex to steal and learn.

Thus, Sam Anbul never mastered intricate techniques like the Golden Bell or the Earthly Law.

Instead, he endlessly honed the basic techniques that others would train for a few years before moving on.

At one point, he desired to learn advanced techniques. But over time, he realized that the practitioner’s skill was more important than the technique itself.

Sam Anbul trained relentlessly, and now he could demonstrate unimaginable power through the Six Harmonies Fist.

Even the creator of the Six Harmonies Fist could not have imagined it could contain such power.

And even the Six Harmonies Fist of the great Bodhidharma could not compare to his own. That was Sam Anbul’s pride.

Each time his fist cut through the air, it sounded like an explosion.

The Great Protector narrowly evaded Sam Anbul’s techniques, avoiding any direct hits. Despite the power of the attacks, not a single effective strike had landed. The gap between them was small, but it was not easily closed.

“Tricks!”

A clear anxiety rose within Sam Anbul’s chest. His martial arts were unmatched by most, but the Great Protector was clearly ahead.

A small gap might not show in a few exchanges, but like two parallel lines slightly askew, the longer the fight, the harder it becomes to close the gap.

The accumulated difference becomes superiority, and soon the master overwhelms the lesser fighter, claiming victory. Unfortunately, Sam Anbul was not skilled in strategic combat.

In the end, Sam Anbul made a decision.

‘Luck or not, if it hits once, it’s over.’

The problem was that the Six Harmonies and Arhat Fist couldn’t reach the Great Protector.

So, what technique should he use now?

The answer was clear. Among the Shaolin techniques Sam Anbul had stolen, there was only one that could be considered advanced.

Long ago, when Sam Anbul was young, he risked his life to witness the head monk’s technique.

The movements were so vivid he could see them in his dreams, but it was only three years ago that Sam Anbul could understand and replicate them.

It took nearly fifty years.

For someone who hadn’t systematically learned martial arts, reaching an advanced technique by skipping all the intermediate steps was a long journey.

“Try this!”

Sam Anbul lowered his stance, leaning forward as if he were about to fall.

In reality, he was falling forward. It was a technique that required such an unstable stance. Without it, even his massive body would be thrown back.

His arms, drawn back to their limit, swelled as if they would burst.

In the next moment, his arms shot forward, fully extended. The motion of his arms moving forward was invisible.

Arhat Divine Fist.

A massive wave of energy surged toward the Great Protector. With the space around them enclosed, there was no room to escape. Sam Anbul was certain. This would hit.

But then, something strange happened. The Great Protector waved his arms in an odd manner, redirecting the massive energy wave of the Arhat Divine Fist back toward Sam Anbul.

Sam Anbul quickly crouched, but he couldn’t completely avoid the wave. The immense force struck his abdomen and lower body beneath his crossed arms.

“Ugh!”

The power of the Arhat Divine Fist was so great that even Sam Anbul’s iron-like body couldn’t fully withstand it. Coughing up blood, he asked.

“What was that just now?”

“A martial art from the distant West, Persia. It’s called the Heaven and Earth Great Shift.”

A technique he had never heard of.

But if it was a martial art from the West, it must have been taken from the sect leader’s hall. The Manichaean religion originated from the West, after all.

“I still have the scroll!”

“Do you think there’s only one martial art inscribed in the sect leader’s hall?”

Sam Anbul felt dizzy.

How many martial arts were recorded in the sect leader’s hall, and how many had the Great Protector stolen?

Even years ago, the Great Protector had been his equal. How much further ahead was he now?

‘The odds are slim.’

Unless overwhelmed by sheer force, he didn’t want to fall victim to such a technique that seemed half sorcery, half martial art.

Sam Anbul immediately turned and hurled himself toward the back wall of the house. Despite his injured state, breaking through a wall was no challenge.

A large hole appeared in the wall, and the house tilted slightly due to the damaged beams.

The Great Protector watched Sam Anbul. If he gave it his all, he could catch up and continue the fight, even end it.

But there was something more important to him now. He picked up the scroll.

The final piece of the martial arts inscribed in the sect leader’s hall was in his hands.

Mok Wana and Tang Mujin explored the village until the rooster crowed.

Not a single villager recognized Mok Wana, but they all showed interest in her. Her pale skin, untouched by sunlight, stood out too much.

Mok Wana, shy and reserved, half-hid behind Tang Mujin as they walked. It didn’t look like a comfortable outing.

But the important thing was that no one harmed her.

In fact, the villagers’ gazes were filled with goodwill. Even Mok Wana, tense as she was, could sense that much.

Fear that transcends reason gradually fades in the face of clear experience. Mok Wana’s fear and reluctance slowly diminished.

Tang Mujin turned to her and spoke.

“Feeling a bit better now?”

”…Not yet. I still need more wine.”

Mok Wana, still tense, retreated to a corner of the village and took another sip of wine.

She wiped her mouth with her pale arm and let out a deep sigh.

Her back and shoulder muscles were stiff from tension. But for a first outing, it wasn’t bad at all.

“Do you need more sweets?”

”…I’ve had too much. My tongue is numb.”

Despite her words, she would surely show interest if more sweets appeared. Tang Mujin chuckled lightly.

‘This is how progress is made, slowly but surely.’

Tang Mujin looked ahead again. Unlike Mok Wana, who watched him with complex emotions, his heart was filled with pride and a touch of smugness.

He felt like a great healer. After all, a true healer cures not only the body but also the mind.

The sun rose faintly. Villagers emerged from their homes, ready to enjoy the last day of the festival.

In contrast, it was time for Mok Wana and Tang Mujin to return to the cave. It was too soon to let Mok Wana face the crowded streets.

As they made their way back, Tang Mujin glanced around. He noticed Sam Anbul’s house, slightly damaged here and there.

A large hole gaped in the back wall, and a few people were peering inside.

“There wasn’t a hole there during the day. What happened?”

Of course, Dang Mujin wasn’t worried about Sam Anbul. He was far too powerful to be concerned about.

But when he returned to Dokhyeol with Mok Wana a little later, they found Sam Anbul sitting cross-legged, a fresh bruise blooming on his abdomen.

”…!”

Mok Wana tensed up and hid behind Dang Mujin.

Going outside the cave in broad daylight was daunting, but facing Sam Anbul inside was even more so. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Mok Wana’s eyes trembled with anxiety.

Dang Mujin calmed Mok Wana and approached Sam Anbul.

“Sir, what happened? Your house is in ruins.”

Sam Anbul opened his eyes and spoke.

“The Great Protector caused this. The one who brought the Jinse to the cult’s hall and stole martial arts from there was the Great Protector.”

Dang Mujin narrowed his eyes. He had suspected as much, but to have it confirmed…

“So, what will you do now?”

“Tonight, the cult leader will give a sermon. I will reveal the truth and discuss the Great Protector’s punishment. I need you to be a witness.”

“That’s not difficult. But the cult leader won’t be harmed, will he?”

“Don’t worry. No matter how powerful the Great Protector is, he can’t harm the cult leader. During the festival, the Left and Right Protectors will be with him. The Great Protector can’t get past them to kill the cult leader.”

The Left and Right Protectors were loyal to the doctrine, not the martial faction, and they were fiercely devoted to the cult leader.

Dang Mujin and Sam Anbul took turns resting, while Mok Wana retreated to a small nook in the cave for some peace.

No one came to the cave until evening. Dang Mujin stretched and called out to Mok Wana.

“Just in case something happens, Sam Anbul and I will go alone. Is that okay?”

“Sure! I’m fine!”

Mok Wana was more familiar with the cave than anyone. Of course, he’d be fine.

Sam Anbul and Dang Mujin headed to the lower village.

The sky was darkening, and the atmosphere was more lively than usual. People were savoring the last moments of the festival.

The cult leader stood on a low platform, accompanied by the Great Protector, the Left Protector, and the Right Protector, speaking to the crowd.

He hadn’t forced anyone to gather, yet people stayed, drawn to his presence.

But as Sam Anbul approached the platform, the crowd parted. The Great Protector looked at Sam Anbul and smirked.

Ignoring the Great Protector’s gaze, Sam Anbul stepped onto the platform and bowed slightly to the cult leader.

“I have something to say.”

“It seems urgent. Go ahead.”

Sam Anbul addressed the crowd in a booming voice.

“I’m sorry to interrupt on such a fine day, but there’s something urgent I must share!”

People, even those far away, turned their attention to Sam Anbul. It was rare for him to speak publicly.

“You all know about the Jinse occupying our main hall on the hill! For over a year, many have suffered because of it! And it’s all due to one person’s scheme!”

Everyone listened intently, even the Great Protector.

“It was the Great Protector! He orchestrated everything to steal the martial arts passed down to the cult leader! Last night, he even fought me when I discovered the truth! I have a witness!”

All eyes turned to the Great Protector.

Just as Sam Anbul was about to call Dang Mujin to testify, the Great Protector spoke.

“So what if I did?”

His voice was low, but everyone heard it clearly. It was practically a confession, and the crowd froze.

“What?”

“Let me ask you this. Does it make sense to lock away such powerful martial arts without using them?”

“That’s nonsense!”

The Great Protector tilted his head back, gazing at the sky.

As he began to walk toward the center of the platform, the atmosphere shifted.

It wasn’t an ordinary walk.

The Great Protector’s presence, already overwhelming, now bore down on everyone with an oppressive force.

It was a grand, audacious stride, as if he had never bowed to anyone, as if he ruled over all.

The weak-kneed among the crowd collapsed. Even Sam Anbul’s knees trembled.

The Great Protector surveyed the crowd and spoke.

“Let me ask you all. Why are we here in Xinjiang, at the foot of Tianshan? Because we love the Manichaean teachings from the West? Hardly. How many of us knew the teachings before we came here?”

It was an arrogant statement, but undeniably true. They hadn’t come for Manichaeism; they had settled and found it here.

The Great Protector continued.

“We’re here for one reason: we were exiled. For resisting injustice, for speaking out against a stifling world. But why should we have been exiled? Why should we have fled? I’ve always been dissatisfied with that, always pondered it.”

His voice, filled with inner strength, pressed down on the crowd.

A voice with a demonic allure. The content was tempting. His voice carried a different kind of authority and charm than the cult leader’s. People listened, heads bowed.

“Why do you think such formidable martial arts, capable of defeating Sam Anbul, were hidden beneath the cult leader’s hall? To cower on the fringes? No, that can’t be it.”

The Great Protector chuckled. His expression was that of a benevolent middle-aged man, but it inspired fear and awe, not warmth.

“Everyone has their reasons. But we were exiled because we lacked power. Now, we have power.”

Sam Anbul shouted.

“We? Nonsense! You’re the only one who learned the demonic arts!”

The Great Protector laughed.

“No, we have power. I will teach the martial arts I’ve learned to anyone who seeks strength and has the talent. Come to me. I’m ready, and all that’s left is your decision.”

People flinched. Sam Anbul’s bruised abdomen was visible, a testament to the Great Protector’s overwhelming power.

If they could gain such power, if they could return home with it…

The Great Protector spoke calmly.

“Of course, some may not agree with me. Some are genuinely moved by the Manichaean teachings, and some don’t want martial arts. Those people should stand up now.”

A few people hesitated, then slowly rose. Most were elderly, too late to learn martial arts.

“Will you follow the cult leader?”

One elderly man, who seemed more confident, nodded.

”…Yes.”

The Great Protector looked at the cult leader.

No, he looked at the Left and Right Protectors standing beside the cult leader.

The Left Protector’s arm moved slightly, and the cult leader’s head flew into the air, a fountain of blood following. The Right Protector stood by, unmoving. It was a surreal scene.

The Great Protector asked the old man again.

“Will you follow the cult leader?”

”…No.”

The Great Protector approached the headless body of the cult leader and took his staff.

A staff passed down through generations of Manichaean cult leaders.

Now, it was in the Great Protector’s hands.

He asked the old man once more.

“Will you follow the cult leader?”

”…Yes.”

“A wise choice.”

The new cult leader smiled gently.