The stubbornness of the Shaolin Holy Monk was already widely known both inside and outside Shaolin Temple.
"There is no one born evil. Even if he is the child of Dokgo Mugi, if he receives the Buddha's teachings at our main temple and undergoes lengthy training, he can surely be reborn as a Buddhist disciple."
"B-but."
"I have not the slightest intention of teaching him martial arts outside the Buddhist law, so there is nothing to worry about."
But Jeok Songpyeong was not about to back down so easily.
"However, High Monk Hyejeong. I do not believe matters are as simple as the High Monk claims. The heretical cult, having lost its cult leader, will try to take that child by any means necessary. One cannot rule out the possibility that the child may later become a great demon of unimaginable proportions. If he has inherited the bloodline of Dokgo Mugi, his aptitude must be unmatched; should it be combined with the grotesque and sinister martial arts of the heretical cult, what then do you intend to do?"
"He is right. Elder Jeok speaks wisely."
Almost all of the renowned masters agreed with Jeok Songpyeong's sentiment. Seeing this, the Shaolin Holy Monk let out a long sigh.
'Why would they want to take the life of such a young child?'
The Shaolin Holy Monk's gaze briefly turned toward the child. Though he was still of an innocent age, one could find nothing cute in the child's appearance. Narrow, slanted eyes that tilted upward. An unsightly upturned snub nose and a severely hunched back suggested a congenital deformity. Truly revolting features that one would hate to see even in a dream. Strangely, the boy did not blink even once as he glared at them. The Shaolin Holy Monk felt something akin to killing intent (殺氣) in the child's gaze.
"A child born with innate killing intent."
He finally steeled his heart and took a step forward.
"Then what if we do it this way?"
"..."
"I shall personally place a restriction on this child. As you have all heard, our Shaolin Temple possesses a restriction technique used only on irredeemable villains. If I perform that great art right here and now, will you spare the child's life?"
A voice like a shriek escaped from Jeok Songpyeong's mouth.
"The... Sevenfold Shattering Restriction Technique."
The shock was so great that all the gathered orthodox masters were startled.
The Sevenfold Shattering Restriction Technique. It was a secret restriction art of Shaolin, known as a high-level technique that fundamentally annihilated the killing heart (殺心) in the subject, its power said to rival the Precept of Killing (殺戒). According to rumor, one who received this procedure could never kill another person. The Sevenfold Shattering Restriction Technique was directly connected to the subject's soul; if killing intent arose, it would inflict unimaginable pain. Pain that no human could possibly endure. If one ignored the pain and committed murder, the subject's brain meridians would immediately rupture, leading to a wretched death. As monks who must abstain from killing, Shaolin Temple had no choice but to create such a restriction method. However, throughout the thousand-year history of Shaolin, those who had received this Sevenfold Shattering Restriction Technique were so few they could be counted on one hand... and there was justifiable reason for that.
"H-Holy Monk. If you perform the Sevenfold Shattering Restriction Technique, a significant portion of the inner power you have accumulated until now will be lost. Is there truly a need to go so far?"
The Shaolin Holy Monk Hyejeong shook his head.
"A life that lived on when it should have died. This body will return to but a handful of dirt upon death—what have I to regret? So please, do not worry and bring that child to me."
This was precisely why the Sevenfold Shattering Restriction Technique could not be widely used. Because the great art could only be performed if an internal arts expert possessing at least two hundred years' worth of inner power mobilized their true vital energy in its entirety.
This great art exerted stronger restrictive force the greater the caster's inner power. But as its price, the caster would lose a fixed amount of the vital energy they had cultivated throughout their lifetime. That the Shaolin Holy Monk, who prided himself as Shaolin's current foremost internal arts expert, would exhaust his vital energy for the child of a mere demonic villain... To the martial world's renowned masters, it might seem truly absurd.
But they no longer tried to dissuade the Shaolin Holy Monk.
Even setting aside the stubbornness for which he was already well-known throughout the martial world, they had no reason to refuse when the strongest expert of mighty Shaolin Temple volunteered to lose his power. When the strength of a rival faction weakens, opportunity naturally comes to one's own faction. Having briefly weighed the gains and losses, Jeok Songpyeong smiled broadly.
"Truly a mercy worthy of one called the Holy Monk, High Monk."
"The High Monk shall become the eternal Living Buddha of Shaolin."
The Shaolin Holy Monk surveyed the faces of the renowned masters forcing smiles, let out a bitter smile, and silently stepped forward. The child had already been brought before the Shaolin Holy Monk by the warriors.
"Child. What is your name?"
Even to the Holy Monk's question, the child gave no answer. He merely glared with venom-filled eyes.
"A child whose killing intent pierces the heavens. Whether my decision is right, I know not. But all shall be judged by the Buddha. Then this old monk shall perform the great art that shall forever remove the killing intent from your true nature."
Sighing, the Holy Monk pressed his palms together and gathered vital energy in both hands. Befitting a mighty expert possessing Shaolin's greatest inner power, an enormous invisible aura began to spread from him. The child merely glared at the Shaolin Holy Monk's face without even blinking. This continued for some time.
"Ha!"
Shouting a ki cry, the Shaolin Holy Monk thrust his joined hands forward. The Holy Monk's bony hands instantly enveloped the child's head. Unprecedented, tremendous force began to bore into the child's head through his palms. The child's narrow, slanted eyes snapped open wide. Unimaginable, extreme pain surged from inside his head. His tightly closed mouth opened, and a desperate scream burst forth.
"Aaaaaargh!"
A child who, on top of losing his father at a young age, was now undergoing such a heinous procedure. The name of this truly pitiable child was Dokgo Seong.
"Huk."
Dokgo Seong shot up. Though it had been a dream, the pain he felt was intense enough to drive all sleep away. A tightly clenched voice squeezed out from his mouth.
"D-damn it. No matter how many times I've been through it, this accursed pain never gets any easier."
Even in his hazy, half-awakened state, Dokgo Seong continuously spewed curses. It was a past he didn't even want to think about, so whenever he had dreams that reminded him of old times like this, his mood would turn foul. Therefore, back when he was the cult leader of the heretical cult, quite a number of subordinates and servants had to suffer severe hardships as outlets for his rage after nightmares.
"But where is this?"
Dokgo Seong blinked repeatedly. Though light seeped through his squeezed eyelids, he couldn't clearly identify anything. His entire body throbbed with pain, and a splitting headache welled up. He scrunched his face and grumbled.
"Since it hurts, I suppose this isn't the afterlife."
Since if one were dead, there was no way pain from injuries sustained in life would remain, he concluded that he was still alive. Then, Dokgo Seong's physical condition suddenly came to mind.
"Wait..."
Dokgo Seong's complexion suddenly stiffened. Once he came to his senses, the escape from the heretical cult's main headquarters, the desperate battle against the orthodox faction and the demonic cult, and the heretical cult's pursuit squad that had betrayed him—all came back vividly as if they had happened just moments ago. The problem lay right there. When he recalled how, at a life-or-death moment, he had detonated his remaining Origin True Energy all at once to deal with the Twin-Handed Demon Venerable Wicheong of the demonic cult and his subordinates, Dokgo Seong's face turned pale.
"At the time, my dantian had been more than half-destroyed by that bastard Sa Junhwan's ambush. If I detonated my Origin True Energy in that state..."
Dokgo Seong urgently tried to circulate his inner power. But his attempt came to naught the moment it began. The most important organ of the human body for circulating inner energy had now completely vanished from his body.
"Wha... It's gone. I can't feel my dantian."
The dantian was no longer even perceptible. It had been torn to shreds by repeated abuse. Even his meridians and acupoints transmitted no response at all. The meridians and acupoints that had opened wide during the detonation of his Origin True Energy had immediately closed afterward. They were jammed shut and hardened stiff. In other words, Dokgo Seong had become a body that could never circulate inner power again. His face suddenly twisted into a wretched expression.
"Damn it all..."
If asked what was most important to a martial artist, nine out of ten would likely choose the martial arts they had cultivated until now. Because to a martial artist, martial arts could be more precious than parents, siblings, or even wife and children depending on the circumstance. Of course, Dokgo Seong's situation was even more desperate. Dokgo Seong had been subjected to countless contempt from people since childhood due to his hideous appearance. The only way for him to overcome reality was through martial arts training. Therefore, he had quite literally staked his life on learning martial arts. Having wasted his childhood—most crucial for martial arts training—at Shaolin Temple and having started his training late, the path could only have been more difficult. That the martial arts he had obtained after overcoming all those obstacles should vanish entirely... It felt as though the heavens were collapsing. He tried to console himself that he had had no choice at the crossroads of life and death, but blood-tears were already flowing from his eyes. Wailing followed.
"Uhhuhuhu."
Dokgo Seong cried and cried again. Not that doing so would bring back his lost martial arts, but only then did it feel like his heart might ease.
After crying for a long while, Dokgo Seong finally came to his senses. He raised his puffy eyes and looked around in all directions.
"But where is this place?"
Now he was gradually beginning to make out his surroundings. He was in an enormous, lavishly decorated room. His body lay neatly atop a huge bed large enough for ten grown men to lie down comfortably.
Doubt instantly surfaced in Dokgo Seong's eyes.
"Such unfamiliar decorations. The shape of the room as well, and the design of the bed..."
During his time as the cult leader of the heretical cult, Dokgo Seong had lived quite luxuriously. However, compared to this place, the bedroom where he had once resided could be called a mere hut; the room was incomparably opulent. Furthermore, for some reason, the atmosphere was completely different from that of the Central Plains.
Dokgo Seong's gaze fell upon an iron figure placed in the corner of the room.
"What is this thing used for? They must have nothing better to do, sculpting a human figure out of refined steel."
Never in his wildest dreams would Dokgo Seong have guessed that it was a full plate mail, the heavy armor worn by knights; he shook his head. Just then, the door clicked open. Dokgo Seong instinctively tried to assume a guarded stance, but let out a bitter smile. In his current physical condition, even if someone who knew no martial arts charged at him with a club—not to mention an ambush—he wouldn't be able to withstand it.
The Heavenly Demon Blood Art that Dokgo Seong had learned was not a martial art requiring profound forms or intricate variations. It was an overwhelmingly domineering demonic art that pursued utter supremacy, crushing and smashing everything in its path powered by powerful inner energy. Therefore, now that he had lost his martial arts, Dokgo Seong desperately wished he had instead learned third-rate martial arts that low-rank warriors or escort guards practiced. But Dokgo Seong, who had chosen the path of rapid growth to become stronger, had never had the time to properly learn the basics from the start.
The one who opened the door and entered was an old man with an impressive white beard. From his light brown irises and foreign facial structure, Dokgo Seong could tell he was definitely not someone from the Central Plains. First of all, the shape of the long robe embroidered with a flame pattern was completely different from those of the Central Plains. Dokgo Seong's mind began working smoothly to uncover the old man's identity.
'A Western Region foreigner in clothes with a flame pattern... Could he be from the Western Regions' Beohwa-gyo (Zoroastrianism), a distant relative of our cult?'
The old man who entered was none other than Shrekheimer.
"Oh! You're awake. Did you sleep well?"
Shrekheimer brightened and offered a greeting, but Dokgo Seong couldn't possibly understand him from the start. Only upon seeing the puzzled expression on the other's face did Shrekheimer realize his blunder and smiled bitterly.
"First, I must solve the communication problem. Though it remains to be seen whether a translation spell will work."
When the strange foreigner who had entered the room suddenly began muttering something like an incantation, Dokgo Seong couldn't help but tense up. First of all, as a high-level sorcerer who had mastered all the grotesque sorcery techniques of the heretical cult, he knew well just how much power an incantation could hold.
But Dokgo Seong could no longer use a single one of those numerous sorcery techniques. Because deploying sorcery required a certain degree of inner power. Now he was no different from an ordinary person, a body unable to use even the slightest bit of inner energy. Therefore, he waited tensely for the other party's incantation to end. The old man who finished the incantation looked at him once more. But suddenly, the Central Plains language burst from his mouth.
"Did you sleep well?"
Dokgo Seong's eyes suddenly grew as large as lanterns. A Western Region foreigner, whom one could tell at a glance was not from the Central Plains, had suddenly spoken fluent Central Plains language. Not only that, but it was the dialect of the Yangzhou region, Dokgo Seong's homeland. Even the accent was not the slightest bit off.