The RoFan Novel Fan Has Reincarnated Into A Martial Arts Novel-Chapter 47: A Candid Talk

"Attained enlightenment... huh."

It was grim news.

Maybe that was why Master Damdeok had hesitated earlier?

At that moment, Gongye called out to her.

"By the way, Hwangbo Patron, about those black flames you mentioned earlier."

"Yes?"

Yeon suddenly remembered—Gongye hadn’t actually seen the black flames himself. He’d fainted before then. She had explained it to him a few times afterward, but, as always, he seemed not to have truly listened.

"The thing is..."

Gongye hesitated, the words rolling around in his mouth before he finally spoke.

"I think... I might have heard something about them. From Master Myoeun."

Yeon stopped walking.

Every eye—except Gongye’s—immediately turned toward him.

Avoiding their gazes, Gongye shifted awkwardly and began to hedge.

"Well... I’m not completely sure. It was a long time ago, and... well..."

"Please, tell us, Monk."

"Hmm..."

With a face that clearly regretted ever opening his mouth, Gongye continued.

"You see, Master Myoeun was considered one of the greatest geniuses in Shaolin’s history. He came close to mastering an art that no one else ever did—an advanced martial art called... Great Prajñā Vajra Art."

Yeon had never heard the name before.

Soso’s eyes went wide with curiosity too, but it was Cheongang who spoke up.

"I’ve heard of it."

"Oho! Yi Patron knows of it!" Gongye said, delighted. "Actually, I’m carrying on Master Myoeun’s legacy."

"Really? That martial art..."

"Please don’t misunderstand," Gongye hurried to add. "I’m no genius like he was. I merely learned the same martial art, that's all."

Cheongang didn’t seem entirely convinced.

Yeon wasn't either.

It didn’t make sense for a martial art of that caliber to be passed down so casually.

Then again, Gongye must have real talent too. Otherwise, Master Damdeok wouldn't keep him around even after all his blunders.

Gongye, looking sheepish, pressed on.

"Anyway, the reason I bring this up is because... Master Myoeun once left me a final instruction."

"What did he say?"

"He told me that I must master the Great Prajñā Vajra Art and use it to extinguish the black flames."

"He actually said 'black flames'? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I was just a child at the time, but... hearing you talk about it brought the memory back. Haha."

Yeon and Cheongang exchanged wide-eyed, shocked looks.

A heavy silence fell over them.

It was Soso who hesitantly raised her hand.

"Um... excuse me, Monk."

"Yes, Tang Patron? You have something to ask?"

"If Master Myoeun knew about the black flames... then how did he know the location of the Northern Sea Ice Palace?"

"Ah! Right, I hadn't finished explaining. Tang Patron is sharper than she looks sometimes," Gongye said with a chuckle, glancing at the blushing Soso before continuing.

"As Hwangbo Patron mentioned earlier, the Ice Palace once made contact with Shaolin. It was over ten years ago... I only know it secondhand."

Yeon glanced at Cheongang.

That timeline roughly matched the tragedy that had befallen his mother.

A strange, tingling sense of unease crept up her spine.

"Back then, Master Myoeun was sent as Shaolin's representative to meet with the Ice Palace."

"By himself?"

"Of course, other monks accompanied him. But from what I heard, only Master Myoeun was allowed inside the palace itself."

"Then what about the monks who went with him? Couldn’t we ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) ask them? They must at least know the general location."

"That's a reasonable idea... but, well..."

Gongye scratched his head awkwardly.

"Ah, this is bad."

"What’s wrong, Monk?"

"I think... I’ve already said too much. Master Abbot’s going to scold me for sure."

"But the Master told you to answer any questions we had, didn't he?"

"Well, yes, but still..."

Three pairs of eyes stared at him expectantly.

After a moment of squirming, Gongye gave a long, defeated sigh and continued with a bitter smile.

"On the way back to Shaolin, accompanied by the Ice Palace’s master... Master Myoeun was overcome by mental deviation.

The exact cause has never been determined..."

A thick, smoky cloud of dread rose in Yeon’s heart.

"And?" she asked tensely.

Gongye closed his eyes tightly, as if steeling himself.

"In his madness... Master Myoeun slaughtered all the monks who were with him. Only the Ice Palace master survived. After that, all ties between Shaolin and the Ice Palace were severed."

****

Back at the Abbot’s chamber, Master Damdeok sat alone, quietly cleaning away the tea set.

The traces of his guests were wiped away, and the room slowly returned to its original, simple state.

When the lingering warmth of their presence had fully faded, a voice called out from outside.

"Master Abbot, it's Gongye."

"Did you escort them properly?"

"Yes, Master."

But Gongye didn’t leave immediately.

Sensing what was coming, Damdeok waited in silence.

"Um... Master."

"Speak."

"Well, actually, I answered some of the Patrons' questions earlier. I... I’m worried I might have overstepped."

"Was it about Master Myoeun?"

"Ah... yes, Master."

"I see. Then go. It’s fine."

"...Huh?"

"I said, it’s fine."

After offering a respectful bow behind the closed door, Gongye finally retreated.

Only when his footsteps had fully faded did Damdeok let out a long, weary sigh.

Myoeun and the Ice Palace—

They were long-buried scars of Shaolin.

To even touch upon those secrets now... he had only allowed it out of a sense of guilt toward Hwangbo Yeon.

The black flames.

Damdeok hadn’t lied when he said he’d never seen them.

He truly knew nothing about their nature.

However—

When the massacre occurred, Shaolin had dispatched an investigation team.

All evidence at the scene pointed clearly to Master Myoeun’s guilt.

Once he'd regained his senses, he surrendered himself without resistance and entered the Confession Hall, where he soon attained enlightenment—and that was how the incident was officially closed.

But there had been one clue that was never explained.

At the site of the killings, near where the bodies were found, there had been traces of fire.

The grass and trees had been scorched. Myoeun himself had confessed to starting the fire... but...

It was known that immersion in certain deep martial arts could lead to madness.

Yet Myoeun had been one of Shaolin’s most promising candidates for Abbot.

There had never been the slightest sign of murderous intent in him before.

If he were still alive today... the Abbot’s seat would surely be his.

Damdeok was lost in the heavy fog of old memories when he sensed another presence outside the chamber.

It was a familiar aura.

"Yi Cheongang, isn’t it?" he called out.

"If it’s not too much trouble, may I speak with you for a moment?"

An unexpected visit, but Damdeok didn’t hesitate.

He opened the door.

"Heh. Seems my tea was to your liking, Patron Yi," he said lightly, ushering Cheongang inside.

Now alone, face-to-face, Cheongang’s presence stood out even more clearly—no longer hidden by the group.

Good heavens... such a formidable presence for someone so young.

Damdeok could hardly believe it.

It became clear now—Yi Cheongang had deliberately concealed his energy earlier.

If he had done so to avoid disrupting Hwangbo Yeon’s conversation, it meant this young prodigy possessed not only strength but also profound consideration.

Naturally, a sense of fondness grew in Damdeok's heart as he gazed at this exceptional junior.

"What brings you back to me, Patron?"

"I humbly ask your pardon for disturbing you, Master. There is something I must inquire about."

"And what would that be?"

Cheongang’s clear eyes locked onto Damdeok.

Though he was no monk of Buddha or Dao, there was an undeniable purity of spirit within him. If not for the faint spark of youthful vigor peeking through, Damdeok might have asked which sect he belonged to.

The Yi family truly is a mystery.

Today, they were lauded as the greatest martial family under heaven, but once upon a time, they had lived hidden from the martial world.

If Namgung Yuryong hadn’t stumbled upon them by chance, they might have remained unknown even now.

And so Damdeok’s curiosity deepened.

How had a family capable of producing such an exceptional genius stayed hidden for so long?

The secular world is like a worn-out pouch—if even the tip of a needle pokes through, it cannot go unnoticed. Was there a reason they had to remain hidden...?

As Damdeok suppressed the questions blooming inside him, Yi Cheongang opened his mouth.

"I heard from Monk Gongye about the Northern Sea Ice Palace."

"I see," Damdeok replied calmly.

He had expected this.

Cheongang, too, showed no surprise.

"Master."

"Yes?"

"Is it truly confirmed... that Master Myoeun died the way they say?"

Damdeok paused, caught off guard by the unexpected question.

"...It is," he said at last. "But why do you ask?"

"In truth, I have heard of the Great Prajñā Vajra Art."

"You have?"

It wasn’t unheard of for outsiders to know the names of Shaolin arts—but this particular art was so obscure that few outside even knew of its existence.

Yet, as if to anticipate Damdeok’s skepticism, Cheongang spoke with quiet precision:

"'Prajñā'—wisdom. 'Vajra'—stronger than anything in the world. I understand that when this enlightenment manifests as martial art, it wields overwhelming power. Especially, it is said to make one immune to any illusions or deceptions. Is that correct?"

"Hoh... it is indeed. How do you know so much?"

"There was a time I studied methods of resisting illusion techniques.

The explanation left quite an impression on me," Cheongang said lightly, swiftly moving on, as if wishing to downplay the subject. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

"What I’m curious about is this:

If Master Myoeun had truly come so close to mastering the Great Prajñā Vajra Art—

how could he have succumbed to madness and committed such atrocities?

An art that severs all delusions... should have prevented that."

Hearing Cheongang lay out the argument so earnestly, Damdeok couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

"Haha."

"Did I say something amusing?"

"Forgive me, Patron. Your understanding of Shaolin’s martial arts is simply... remarkable."

Not merely remarkable—it was on par with many seasoned monks.

If Cheongang chose to become a monk today, he could probably master the arts faster than most.

From that moment on, Damdeok resolved not to view Yi Cheongang as a mere junior anymore.

He would regard him as an equal—as a future master in his own right.

"There is a reason, Patron, but... it’s one even this old monk has never truly found an answer to."

"And why is that?"

"Because no one has ever fully mastered the Great Prajñā Vajra Art."

Even tracing Shaolin’s lineage back through the centuries, there had been no true master of it.

And without a precedent, no one could predict the dangers.

"Master Myoeun came closer to perfection than anyone else," Damdeok said quietly.

"But no one else can explain what truly happened to him that day."

At the end of the explanation, Cheongang fell silent, deep in thought.

Damdeok decided this was the time to unburden himself of something that had weighed on him.

"Patron, there is... something I neglected to mention earlier."

"Yes?"

Damdeok shared what he had left unsaid to Hwangbo Yeon—the traces of fire they had found at the massacre site.

At his words, Cheongang’s eyes sharpened, a clarity cutting through them like a blade.

"I see."

After a brief pause, Cheongang spoke again.

"Master."

"Yes?"

"I have a difficult request."

"Please, speak freely."

With an earnestness that left no room for evasion, Cheongang continued.

"Would you..."

The request he voiced truly was a difficult one.

Damdeok hesitated—but ultimately, he nodded.

He had vowed to help them in any way he could.

"Thank you for granting me your time, Master."

"No, the pleasure was mine."

After Cheongang departed, Damdeok sat alone, chanting quietly to himself.

Still, he could not dispel the heavy unease settling over him.

The truth that Shaolin had long chosen to turn away from... was beginning to come to light.

The great wheel of fate had already begun to turn.

And he no longer had the power to stop it.

Whether it would turn into the Buddha’s Dharma Wheel, bringing truth and liberation—

or just kick up clouds of blinding dust—

was something he could no longer foresee.

"I have no choice now but to trust... in the strength of their good intentions."

In the now-quiet Abbot’s chamber of Shaolin, only the soft, rhythmic sound of a wooden gong echoed.