The Inner Shaolin that Seolhwa entered while following Hyeon was far larger and more complex than the Outer Shaolin.

Hyeon led Seolhwa and Yu Pyo toward the Main Hall of the temple.

In front of the Main Hall lay an expansive stone platform where Shaolin monks were diligently practicing martial arts.

“Ha! Haat! Ha!”

Even at a glance, the sheer scale was overwhelming—hundreds of monks arranged in precise rows, training in unison. The sight radiated grandeur.

So this is where all the monks disappeared to.

They were all gathered here.

“Haa! Haat!”

Some monks were training in staff techniques, others in fist techniques.

Off to one side, some were striking bare-handed against impact dummies in intense physical drills.

“The monks of the Main Temple train their bodies through seventy-two methods. During the cultivation period, the regimens are rotated daily.”

“You don’t participate in the training, Master Monk?”

Come to think of it, they’d said he was a Second-Generation Disciple.

Hyeon was a Second-Generation Disciple as well.

So why wasn’t he training with them?

“Ah, this humble monk—”

“Because he doesn’t need to.”

The answer didn’t come from Hyeon but from Yu Pyo.

Arms folded, Yu Pyo gave a lazy nod as he continued watching the monks’ training.

“This one here happens to be one of the exceptional talents among the Second-Generation Disciples. Isn’t he the treasured disciple-grandson of the Head of the Disciplinary Hall?”

Disciple-grandson—a disciple of one’s disciple.

If the Head of the Disciplinary Hall had a disciple from the First Generation, Hyeon would be that disciple’s student.

So that’s why he kept bringing up the Head of the Disciplinary Hall.

Because he was his disciple-grandson.

Still, Seolhwa was surprised.

Even during their spar yesterday, she’d found Hyeon’s martial arts to be among the stronger ones she'd seen among Shaolin’s monks.

At first, she’d assumed he was some low-skilled monk assigned to follow her around, since he hadn’t been training during the cultivation period.

That assumption had turned out to be completely wrong.

Why would they assign the most skilled Second-Generation Disciple to watch me?

She’d thought they were trying to make her stay at Shaolin uncomfortable—so she’d leave of her own accord.

But if it was just surveillance, then Hyeon’s standing and attitude didn’t make sense.

Rather than making her uncomfortable, Hyeon had treated her with kindness, making it easier for her to stay.

It’s as if he was trying to earn my trust, to lower my guard.

Exactly.

He had been too considerate.

If he were simply a monk, it might not have stood out.

But if he were truly one of the most talented among the Second-Generation Disciples—

Then he’s someone who doesn’t need to be doing that sort of thing.

Seolhwa’s gaze cooled.

...He’s got some other motive.

She had come to Shaolin with her own goal in mind, yes—but it seemed she wasn’t the only one with an objective.

What was theirs?

“Ahaha...”

Hyeon scratched the back of his head and laughed awkwardly.

Yu Pyo’s remark was something he couldn’t openly deny, so he tried to brush it off.

“There’s nothing special about being the Head Monk’s disciple-grandson. The reason I’m not training is simply because I’ve passed the examination.”

“Examination?”

“There’s a regulation that those who pass the temple’s exam are exempt from participating in the cultivation training.”

All three turned their heads at once.

A monk was climbing the steps leading up to the stone platform.

“Master.”

Hyeon recognized him first and gave a polite half-bow.

Master?

Seolhwa looked again.

“This is my master, Venerable Doryang.”

Hyeon introduced him before he drew near.

If Hyeon’s master was Doryang, then Doryang must be the Head of the Disciplinary Hall’s disciple.

As Doryang approached, he returned Hyeon’s bow with a subtle nod—then turned to face Yu Pyo.

Both men locked eyes, and a thin, biting smirk crept onto their faces at the exact same moment.

Ah.

Seolhwa realized instinctively.

This monk—Doryang—was the very “damn monk” Yu Pyo had loathed so much.

“We meet again, Daoist Yu Pyo. Though I daresay we needn’t run into each other so often.”

“Wasn’t keen on it myself. Your shaved head shines so damn bright it hurts my eyes.”

“Still wagging that tongue of yours. Seems enlightenment remains a distant dream.”

“It’s not enlightenment—it’s attainment. And who are you to say that, huh? You think just wearing monk’s robes makes you some kind of saint?”

Ha ha ha. Hahahaha.

Their exchange of venom was wrapped in laughter.

Seolhwa stood stunned at the raw language, while Hyeon looked helplessly between them, unsure which one to stop.

And yet the two men who had just traded barbed words parted like nothing had happened.

Doryang turned to Seolhwa.

“I am Doryang, First-Generation Disciple of Shaolin. I heard that a guest from the Namgoong Clan had arrived. So we finally meet.”

Seolhwa formed a respectful fist-and-palm salute.

A First-Generation Disciple of Shaolin was of the same generation as her father. She responded with proper courtesy.

“Namgoong Seolhwa.”

“So I hear you wished to observe our training?”

“Ah, that was my request.”

Hyeon stepped in to answer on her behalf.

“Lady Namgoong seemed curious about the temple, so I asked the Head of the Disciplinary Hall for permission to observe a session.”

“Yes, Venerable Beopseon informed me. Good timing, indeed. Today marks the seventh day—we’re just about to begin the first examination.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Hyeon turned to Seolhwa with a bright smile.

“Excellent timing. You’ll be able to see the examination I mentioned earlier.”

“The same test you passed, Master Monk?”

“Yes. Ah, and here they come.”

Seolhwa followed his gaze.

From the path to the right of the stone platform, monks were dragging in a cart bearing an enormous slab of stone.

It was nearly twice Seolhwa’s height, one side smoothed flat.

At a glance, it resembled a massive gravestone.

The monks moved it to the right of the training ground and set it upright so that its flat face was exposed.

Meanwhile, the training monks silently lined up on the opposite side.

“Let’s head down.”

Doryang led the descent down the steps.

The other three followed in his wake.

As she descended, Seolhwa glanced at the lined-up monks.

They were staring back at her—most with unfriendly expressions.

Just then—

[Namgoong Seolhwa.]

The voice of the Fat Imugi, silent since she entered Shaolin, echoed in her head.

[They're watching you again today.]

It was the second time the Imugi had spoken since arriving.

The first was yesterday, after she finished sword training in the sparring yard.

[There are eyes on you. Two hundred jang to the west—on the roof of the next hall. Don’t look. Pretend you don’t know.]

Two hundred jang—over 600 meters.

To observe her from that distance required power approaching Super Peak. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

The exact identity was unknown, but it likely meant someone from Shaolin’s inner circle.

[It’s the same people as yesterday.]

So they’re still spying, just like before...

Who could it be? The Abbot? Or the Head of the Disciplinary Hall?

Maybe both.

The Imugi hadn’t said it was just one person.

Seolhwa looked up at the towering slab of stone before her.

This stone... it had to be the reason they brought her here.

Doryang told the three to wait on the side, then moved toward the monks.

While he explained the test format, Hyeon turned to explain it to Seolhwa and Yu Pyo as well.

“The rules are simple. From a distance of ten jang, one must use a palm strike to leave an imprint on the stone tablet.”

“A palm strike?”

“Yes. The indent must be at least one chi deep—roughly three centimeters—for it to count as a pass.”

To leave a mark on that stone with palm force alone from ten jang away—without touching it at all?

That’s not going to be easy.

To transmit palm force over a distance like that—strong enough to make an imprint—required a level similar to projecting sword energy.

And that meant they had to be at least near the Super Peak realm.

Are any of these monks even capable of that?

They were only Second-Generation Disciples.

Just then, as if the explanation had finished, one monk stepped forward to stand before the stone.

From his confident demeanor, he seemed to be a volunteer.

Seolhwa watched him with interest.

Boom—! Thud!

The monk stepped forward with a powerful stance, feet wide and knees bent.

With his back straight, he turned toward the stone, gathered energy like summoning the air around him, then raised both hands.

“Haaat!”

With a sharp cry, he aimed both hands toward the slab.

“Haat! Haaat!”

Two sharp shouts followed as he thrust his left and right palms rapidly toward the stone.

Whoosh!

The right palm—that’s the real one.

Seolhwa’s head snapped toward the slab.

Then—BOOM!—a deep impact rang across the platform.

It sounded like stone slamming into stone.

“Pass!”

Doryang’s voice rang out before the sound had even fully faded.

“Waaaah!”

Cheers erupted from the monks as they celebrated their brother’s success with one voice.

The first to pass turned around with a satisfied expression.

Before returning to his place, he stared directly at Seolhwa and Yu Pyo.

Seolhwa’s brow arched subtly.

What was /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ that?

The corners of the monk’s lips curled into a smug smile.

With a brief half-bow, he returned to his position, receiving congratulatory pats from the other monks.

Hmm...

What the hell was that just now?