Episode 287: The Kennel

The group had barely crossed the Yellow River and traveled for a day when martial artists began to appear, circling them like vultures. It was clear they weren’t just curious onlookers. These were skilled fighters, keeping a cautious distance.

Namgung Myung grumbled, “Tang Mujin, can’t you just throw your chakram and scare them off?”

“It’s better to keep it hidden for now,” Tang replied.

From a short distance away, the voice of the Abbot of the Precepts Temple carried a hint of curiosity. “Tang, you know how to wield a chakram?”

“Yes. I realized the sword wasn’t my path.”

Among the many weapons passed down in Shaolin, there is one called the ‘lun’—a circular metal weapon similar to Tang Mujin’s chakram, but different in many ways. The Shaolin lun is larger, with a unique shape, and is primarily meant to be swung, not thrown. Even within Shaolin, mastering the lun is rare, and its power isn’t considered extraordinary, so it’s seldom used in combat.

“Mastering the chakram must have been no easy feat.”

“It actually suits me quite well.”

“Interesting. But as Namgung suggested, now isn’t the time to throw it.”

“You’re right.”

Despite the conversation, Tang Mujin was itching to hurl his chakram. The way the rogue martial artists were trying to disrupt their rest was infuriating.

They weren’t just keeping their distance and being a nuisance.

“Watch out!”

Hyun Gong reached out beside Seolhwa, catching a dagger without a guard that had been thrown by one of the rogue martial artists. They occasionally hurled daggers or stones.

“Are you okay?”

“I can handle it!”

Seolhwa’s voice brimmed with confidence. It wasn’t just bravado; she had already reached out to intercept the dagger’s path. Hyun Gong’s hand was simply faster, driven by a more urgent need to protect Seolhwa than her own instinct to dodge.

As Hyun Gong pocketed the dagger, he thought, ‘Thank goodness Tang Mujin isn’t our enemy.’ If someone like Tang, who could throw a chakram from a distance, were against them, the situation would be dire.

Unlike the chakram, a dagger isn’t as powerful, and once thrown, there’s no retrieving it. It’s exhausting for both the thrower and the defender.

Just then, Manryeokseung, standing beside Tang Mujin, pointed at one of the rogue martial artists.

“That’s Blood-Faced Wolf.”

Blood-Faced Wolf, a top-tier rogue martial artist, was a man with hair tinged faintly red. He looked to be just over fifty, his wild, unkempt hair making him stand out.

He struck a peculiar pose, lifting one leg, and hurled a fist-sized stone in a straight line.

Whoosh—

The stone cut through the air, drawing everyone’s gaze to Blood-Faced Wolf.

“Hey, how’s your old man doing in the afterlife?”

A taunt about a deceased master. The Beggar Sect members nearly charged at Blood-Faced Wolf, but Shinseung calmed them down.

“Hold your temper.”

“How can we ignore such nonsense?”

“He’s baiting you, hoping you’ll react rashly. Your master wouldn’t want you to act impulsively.”

Though the Beggar Sect members were hot-headed and impatient, they weren’t fools. Their master had recently died chasing an enemy into a trap.

While the Beggar Sect members struggled to contain their anger, Manryeokseung remained unruffled.

“That fellow’s getting anxious about our direction.”

“Anxious? Why?”

“Where do you think we’re headed?”

“Aren’t we just moving north?”

Manryeokseung chuckled. “No. We’re heading to Blood-Faced Wolf’s base, the Gwangrang Gate. Despite appearances, he’s the gatekeeper there.”

“What do you plan to do at Gwangrang Gate?”

“Blood-Faced Wolf built his sect through murder and plunder. If we threaten to burn it down, he won’t be able to stand idly by. He’ll have to confront us, and that’s when we’ll strike.”

Even rogue martial artists have things to lose, and Blood-Faced Wolf had plenty at stake.

As they neared Gwangrang Gate, Blood-Faced Wolf’s provocations grew more intense. He hurled insults, daggers, stones, and even shot arrows, though he quickly ran out of them.

Manryeokseung shouted at Blood-Faced Wolf, “You know where we’re headed. Better prepare to welcome us at home. Ha!”

Blood-Faced Wolf didn’t sit idly by. He vanished briefly, returning with nearly a hundred and fifty martial artists. It was more of an army than a group.

Though many were unskilled, the sheer number was intimidating.

Shinseung addressed the Shaolin monks, “Form a formation and protect the benefactors. Focus on defense, and avoid lethal force. I trust there will be no injuries. Understood?”

“Yes!”

Without any rallying cries, Shinseung laid down three conditions: protect the benefactors, avoid killing, and ensure no injuries. The Shaolin monks numbered only about thirty, while the enemy was three to four times that.

‘Is that even possible?’

Neither Tang Mujin nor his friends believed Shinseung’s plan could work.

Regardless, the Shaolin monks formed two concentric circles around the Beggar Sect and Tang Mujin’s group. The inner circle rotated right, the outer left.

The monks held no weapons.

“Charge!”

“Kill them!”

The rogue martial artists surged forward like a wave, crashing into the Shaolin monks.

But the monks stood firm, like rocks against the tide, absorbing the impact without flinching.

“Wow…”

What followed was an unprecedented spectacle in the history of the martial world. Thirty monks formed a perfect formation, executing a flawless joint attack.

It was a moment when the concept of a joint attack expanded into a new realm.

Hyun Gong murmured, “What… what is this?”

A well-executed joint attack typically involves three or four people. Even the legendary joint attacks rarely exceeded six.

No joint attack involving more than seven martial artists existed. Creating one was a challenge of a different magnitude than developing ordinary martial arts.

To the untrained, a joint attack might seem like a synchronized dance, with everyone performing the same moves. But that’s a foolish notion.

If everyone performs the same move, they all expose the same weaknesses.

The essence of a joint attack is for each participant to complement the others’ weaknesses with their moves.

However, as the number of participants increases, the complexity grows exponentially. Two people can cover each other’s weaknesses, but three must cover two sets of weaknesses, doubling the complexity.

Yet, if three can execute a perfect joint attack, its power far surpasses that of two. Two can cover one person’s weaknesses.

The endless cycle of exposed weaknesses and compensating moves.

Creating a joint attack is like solving an endless puzzle.

Each participant must consider, ponder, and weave their moves to achieve the best outcome.

And that’s not all.

Creating a joint attack is challenging, but mastering it is even harder. Every participant must fully internalize the puzzle.

Even if one plays a role now, they might have to switch roles later.

They must, whether they want to or not. If someone dies or is injured, someone else must fill the gap.

An imperfectly executed joint attack fails to cover weaknesses. It crumbles like a sandcastle at the slightest disruption.

It’s worse than not attempting a joint attack at all.

Creating a joint attack is difficult, and mastering it even more so. The best joint attacks in history involved no more than six people.

Yet here, thirty Shaolin monks executed a flawless joint attack without a single misstep.

As the rogue martial artists hesitated, Blood-Faced Wolf bellowed, “Break through! Break through it!”

“How are we supposed to break through that?”

As the Blood-Faced Wolf decapitated the nearest rogue martial artist, the others hesitated before cautiously advancing again. Yet, their efforts were in vain. The monks, unarmed, spun like twin wheels, effortlessly dismantling the rogues wielding their menacing blades.

The rogue fighters, summoned by the Blood-Faced Wolf, were drawn into the monks’ spinning formation only to be tossed aside, often losing their weapons in the process. As the wise monk had said, there was no need to kill them. The overwhelming precision and strength of the monks left the rogues with no will to fight.

After being swept away by the formation, the rogue martial artists quickly fled, none wanting to be the last to escape.

“So this is the power of the Shaolin Temple…” Namgung Myung and Hyun Gong could only gape in awe at the monks’ near-impossible feat.

Tang Mujin, however, was different. He simply watched with a blank expression. The only monk not participating in the formation, the wise monk, smiled at Tang Mujin.

“I knew you’d recognize what this is.”

“How could I not?”

The monks’ movements were reminiscent of the Shaolin’s Wooden Men Alley. Since Tang Mujin had repaired it, Shaolin monks would challenge the alley once they reached a certain level of mastery.

Tang Mujin had always thought of the Wooden Men Alley as a place to learn the Shadowless Steps and the White Lotus Fist. A place to hone skills while having fun—where else could one find such a place?

That alone seemed more than enough, so Tang Mujin never imagined there could be more to it. But it didn’t stop there. One monk had viewed the movements of the Wooden Men from a different perspective.

Unless one could destroy the Wooden Men with sheer internal power, even the most skilled masters found it difficult to pass through.

‘What if the Wooden Men themselves were a sophisticated formation?’

‘If one could mimic the movements of the Wooden Men with the human body and infuse them with internal power, wouldn’t it become an unbreakable formation?’

Learning the movements of the Wooden Men was easier than mastering any other formation. To pass through, one had to fail hundreds, even thousands of times, memorizing the movements of each Wooden Man in the process.

Every monk, through shared experience, learned the most intricate puzzle. There was no need to worry about being slow to learn. The Wooden Men would tirelessly demonstrate their movements until the formation was perfected.

The wise monk spoke again. “The gift you gave us wasn’t just the Shadowless Steps and the White Lotus Fist. This formation is the greatest gift you’ve left Shaolin.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“Sometimes, intentions don’t matter. This formation is one of those times.”

Tang Mujin watched the monks’ movements and mused, “This formation… it seems it could be expanded. I think a few more rings could be added.”

The wise monk was surprised. “You’ve already figured that out?”

“It was familiar, so it was possible. How many monks can deploy this formation at once?”

“Not long ago, I asked Cheong Wook the same question. He thought we could add four more rings. I agree with him.”

That meant a total of six rings, with eighteen monks per ring, allowing 108 monks to form a single formation.

“A formation with over a hundred monks…”

“The number of monks who’ve passed the Wooden Men isn’t enough yet, but one day, we’ll be able to deploy such a formation.”

Seeing the positive change his past actions had brought was always a joy. A sense of elation filled Tang Mujin’s heart.

With a smile, Tang Mujin said, “You’ve shown me something incredible. Let me show you something interesting in return.”

“Something interesting?”

“Bi-rings.”

With a flick of his wrists, two bi-rings slipped from Tang Mujin’s sleeves and spun around his fingers. He twirled them before tossing them high into the sky.

The small rings vanished into the air. The Blood-Faced Wolf, too busy shouting at the fleeing rogues, failed to notice their movement.

The wise monk’s eyes gleamed with interest. “You’ve learned to handle fascinating weapons. Last time we met, you were a clumsy young man with mediocre skills.”

“I’m still the same.”

“Modest as ever. Show me how you use those rings. I’m already intrigued.”

The wise monk’s gaze shifted from Tang Mujin’s fingers to the bi-rings.

Suddenly, Tang Mujin’s middle and index fingers pointed downward.

Descend.

The two bi-rings, soaring through the sky, reached the space above the Blood-Faced Wolf’s head. In an instant, they changed direction, plummeting straight down.

The movement of the bi-rings was far swifter and more discreet than what Tang Mujin had demonstrated at the communal sect.

The bi-rings hurtled toward the Blood-Faced Wolf’s head.

Only when the rings were three feet above did the Blood-Faced Wolf’s instincts kick in.

It was pure instinct—a sense of unseen death approaching silently.

”···!”

What had brought the Blood-Faced Wolf to this point wasn’t cunning, exceptional talent, or charisma. It was a primal instinct, more beast than human.

Twisting his body, the Blood-Faced Wolf narrowly avoided the descending rings. In doing so, he lost half of his right ear, from the top to the lobe.

Tang Mujin clenched his fist.

‘Got him.’

But the Blood-Faced Wolf’s instincts didn’t end there.

Amidst the searing pain, he sensed a subtle, tingling sensation. A sensation so faint that any other master might have overlooked it.

Without hesitation, the Blood-Faced Wolf drew a dagger and sliced off the remaining part of his right ear. It all happened in the span of a few breaths.

Now, where his right ear had been, there was only an ear canal and a stream of blood.

The wise monk asked, “Why did he cut his ear again?”

“He realized the rings were poisoned. His senses are incredibly sharp.”

If the poison reached the brain through the ear, even the greatest master would be doomed.

Thanks to his swift and decisive action, the Blood-Faced Wolf saved his life.

He glared at Tang Mujin from beyond the Shaolin monks as he fled, his face now stained red with blood.

Tang Mujin retrieved the bi-rings, sighing with a hint of regret.

“My skills were lacking. If I’d done a bit better, I could have finished him in one strike.”

But the wise monk laughed, satisfied. “It’s fine. Seeing him flee with his face covered in blood suits the name Blood-Faced Wolf, don’t you think?”

With a light step, the wise monk stirred up a small cloud of dust.

Only then did the monks forming the two rings slowly come to a halt. None of them had sustained injuries beyond minor scratches.

The wise monk, using his jade staff to steady himself, chuckled. “Let’s go. Let’s set fire to the coward’s den and honor our fallen friends.”