Seolhwa was confused.

That Shaolin had identified infiltrators from the Blood Demon Cult, that they had even fought with them—

That they had sensed the existence of the Cult even before it fully revealed itself—

She had no way of knowing whether these events had also occurred in her previous life, or if they were new developments caused by her intervention in this life.

But either way, both were entirely plausible.

“It’s Shaolin we’re talking about, after all...”

Wasn’t it a sect with not just one, but two of the Ten Masters Under Heaven?

If the Blood Demon Cult had tried to initiate something within Shaolin, it was very possible that Shaolin would have sensed something off.

Even in her previous life, the Great Restoration Pill had gone missing. Shaolin would have certainly investigated its whereabouts.

“Stay calm. Even if this didn’t happen in my past life, nothing has changed.”

She could start investigating now.

“How did you find out? That there were spies hidden within Shaolin?”

“You already know, don’t you?”

“...What?”

“That energy, if one wishes to hide it, can even deceive the eyes of a master in the Hwagyeong realm.”

“!”

Seolhwa immediately froze.

If it could deceive even a Hwagyeong-level master, that meant she could be deceiving Beopgong right now.

Suddenly, the air seemed thick and suffocating.

Overwhelming internal energy radiated from Beopgong, filling the Abbot’s Chambers.

“I hope what you said is true.”

The force that had driven Shaolin’s disciples to their deaths—

Hwaoru.

“I hope your arrival at Shaolin was mere coincidence.”

A former mistress of Hwaoru, appearing just as the temple was in seclusion.

“Even I’d be suspicious in their shoes.”

Originally, she had planned to ask the Abbot for help locating the Jade Furnace Record and to request cooperation from the Orthodox Alliance.

“But in this situation, I can’t even bring up the Jade Furnace Record.”

If she revealed she knew it had gone missing, it would only deepen Shaolin’s suspicions.

“I don’t even know where to begin to clear myself.”

“There is a way.”

“I’ll do anything.”

The moment Seolhwa responded, something floated up from behind the Abbot’s desk and slowly descended onto the table between them.

A sealed letter.

“What is this?”

Seolhwa feigned ignorance.

“Let’s say it’s a way to clear the misunderstanding between us. You could also call it an answer to your earlier question.”

An answer to my question?

To the question about how they discovered the spies?

“Do you know where Shaolin’s true strength comes from?”

“Isn’t it the vast martial knowledge accumulated over your long history?”

Shaolin’s Scripture Repository was said to house countless secret tomes and martial texts.

As the oldest sect in the martial world, it had absorbed an enormous amount of information and wisdom.

“That too is part of our legacy, and not something to overlook. But our real strength lies elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“Sungsan (嵩山).”

Sungsan.

The mountain where Shaolin was located.

“There are many hermitages surrounding Shaolin. They house senior monks who have stepped away from frontline duties. They are still very much alive and well.”

The hermitages scattered around Sungsan.

There lived Shaolin monks who had stepped down from the front lines.

But stepping back didn’t mean they had stopped training. Decades of cultivated martial arts didn’t just vanish.

If disaster struck Shaolin, they would immediately rise and come to its defense.

Their numbers far exceeded what any other clan or sect could muster—a hidden force, the true reserve strength of Shaolin.

“Deliver this letter to one of them, and return with a reply. That will be enough for me to trust you.”

Seolhwa looked at the letter on the table.

So this was Shaolin’s final trial.

The final test to prove she had no ties to the Blood Demon Cult.

And for Seolhwa, who needed Shaolin’s cooperation to form the Orthodox Alliance, refusal was not an option.

Rustle.

She picked up the letter.

It didn’t appear special in any way.

“So this is also the answer to how they uncovered the infiltrators.”

That could only mean one thing:

The recipient of the letter held the answers to every mystery.

“To whom should I deliver it?”

“Hyeon will guide you to the destination.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“If you have no real connection to them, I can assure you it won’t be dangerous in the slightest.”

That was enough. No more hesitation.

She tucked the letter inside her robe.

“I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

Beopgong nodded.

Just as Seolhwa was rising to take her leave—

“I agree with the Sword Emperor.”

“...What?”

Seolhwa looked at him in surprise.

Beopgong remained seated, his expression unreadable behind a faint smile.

She waited, wondering if he might say more, but that was all.

She bowed respectfully and left the Abbot’s Chambers.

Outside the building, Hyeon was waiting for her.

“Amitabha. Have you finished speaking with the Abbot?”

“Yes. Is Master Doryang all right?”

“He’s regained consciousness. He’s healthy enough to be up and about, so please don’t worry.”

“That’s a relief.”

She had figured as much. With a body like his, it was unlikely there’d be lasting harm.

And since he hadn’t broken anything, all the better.

“If Beopgong had been seriously injured in that incident, Shaolin’s mood would’ve been much worse.”

She had made the right choice in holding back.

As Hyeon guided her back to her quarters, he added:

“Ah, Master Doryang left you a message.”

“What did he say?”

“He said: ‘I am but one who points at the ground with an awl.’”

“...!”

Yongchu-jiji. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

“To point at the ground with an awl”—a phrase describing someone trying to grasp the truths of the world with a narrow, limited view.

It meant that Master Doryang was acknowledging the limitations of his own insight.

“He said he was impressed by your martial skill and asked if, perhaps someday, you would agree to a rematch.”

“He really said that?”

Seolhwa was taken aback.

He was the one who had boldly claimed Shaolin to be the root of all martial arts in the Central Plains.

For someone like that to admit his own narrow view—it was as good as admitting his earlier words might have been wrong.

“I thought he was too proud for that.”

To lose a match and then willingly admit his earlier words were hasty?

Maybe that was what made a monk a monk.

“My master may not look it, but he’s not as ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) stubborn as he seems. If something is wrong, he reflects deeply and tries to correct it.”

It didn’t quite match the impression she had of him earlier, but Seolhwa listened quietly to Hyeon.

Doryang was one of Shaolin’s most respected First-Generation Disciples.

He was trusted not only by the younger monks but also the senior elders—including Beopgong himself.

There was no way what she’d seen of him earlier was the whole truth.

And besides...

Hyeon calling Doryang his “master” reminded her of someone.

“Though he is a bit stubborn, admittedly.”

Hyeon laughed awkwardly and scratched his neck.

“He also said, if there’s ever a next time, he won’t lose.”

Somehow, she could picture the look on his face as he said that.

With his massive frame, he probably looked like a bear brimming with fighting spirit.

The image made Seolhwa smile.

“I welcome it anytime.”

****

“So you intend to send the girl?”

Beopseon, Head of the Disciplinary Hall, asked, as Beopgong slowly set down his brush, pausing in his scripture work.

Beopgong turned his eyes toward Sungsan, bathed in the silver glow of a full moon outside the open window.

“There’s no other way, is there?”

“Didn’t we say we would resolve this internally?”

“I overestimated myself.”

Beopgong rose and walked to the window.

There, beside it, sat a small Buddha statue and an incense burner.

He picked up a stick of incense, gently pinched the tip with his fingers, and lit it.

As the thin tendrils of smoke began to rise, he bowed to the Buddha, then turned back.

“That girl has far exceeded my expectations. She’s not someone I can handle on my own.”

“Hearing that from you only makes me more anxious.”

“I feel the same. That’s why I gave her the letter. I believe it’s what’s best for Shaolin.”

“I thought the same from the start.”

Beopgong turned once more toward the moonlit Sungsan outside the window.

He recalled the overwhelming killing intent that had radiated from Namgoong’s granddaughter.

If she were the Master of the Killing Veil—the Blood-Slaying Ghost—then yes, she would have killing intent like that.

Such a thick aura could only come from one who had taken thousands of lives.

And yet, she claimed innocence.

In that moment, Beopgong had given up on resolving the situation himself.

“Amitabha...”

A powerless sigh escaped his lips.

“I’ve troubled my master again.”