Chapter 169: Chapter 169

"...Young Lord. Please remain by my side."

At the sound of Seo Hyo’s voice—who had somehow caught up unnoticed—Unhwi turned his head and looked at him silently.

Clearly, he hadn’t expected this either.

That would explain the tension in his posture.

Looking closer, there was something oddly reminiscent of Commander Seong in all his worry.

"...Why... are you looking at me like that?"

It really did feel like the long-vacant second Guardian position had finally been filled.

Unhwi gave Seo Hyo a pat on the shoulder and resumed walking.

The group began walking across the Jade Bridge.

At the front was Seol Horyeong. Behind him followed Yeon Chuha and Hyeonjin # Nоvеlight # of the White Lotus Pavilion, along with Dongwoo of the Thirteen Heavens of Cheonseol, and Yang Geon of the Baekseol Ghost Brigade. About five paces behind them walked Unhwi and Seo Hyo.

Unhwi looked down with a curious expression.

The drifting clouds resembled flowing river water.

With each step, the bridge chimed with a clear bell-like sound. Never in his life had Unhwi encountered a place so mysterious.

The closer they got to Shaolin, the heavier everyone’s breathing became—except for Unhwi.

Though they were nearly ten li above ground level, there wasn’t a trace of fatigue on Unhwi’s face. Seo Hyo finally had to ask.

"...Are you perhaps using internal force?"

Unhwi glanced at him and smirked.

"Neglecting your training, are you?"

"...I don’t think so?"

Of course, martial artists at the level of Heaven-Human Embodiment or the Mythic Realm are fundamentally different from ordinary humans.

Setting aside the level of qi, the physical body itself is on another level.

Endurance, reflexes—they’re all vastly superior.

That comes from constant training and discipline.

So it made sense that Seo Hyo didn’t understand. How could Seol Unhwi, who had only reached the Three Flowers Gathering Purity stage, possess stamina surpassing those at the Heaven-Earth Apex?

But he was overlooking one thing.

Unhwi had undergone countless rounds of physical training, yes—but the body he now had was one that had been completely remade.

The internal core of the Ten-Thousand-Year Fireweave had evolved Unhwi’s physical form into something beyond human.

Soon, they reached the top of the staircase.

And there it was: the grand structure of the Shaolin Temple, unfurled before their eyes.

One could call it legendary itself.

Enormous halls built upon clouds as pillars, roofs carved from sky-hued cobalt jade, and rainbow-hued bridges threading between them.

"How could such a place even exist...?"

Most nodded in agreement to Yeon Chuha’s awestruck whisper.

Then, as if drawn, everyone’s gaze turned to the same spot.

It was a golden pavilion perched atop a massive iron gate.

Etched upon it were the words:

Hall of Dharma Clouds.

"A pavilion where the clouds of scripture gather..."

As Seol Horyeong murmured softly, the massive iron gate creaked open on its own.

Everyone stood frozen in place for a moment.

Beyond the gate unfolded a sight far beyond imagination. A vast chamber—too wide to take in all at once—lined with thousands, no, tens of thousands of scriptures.

These were not ordinary books. They glowed as though alive; some even floated mid-air.

At the center of the great hall sat an enormous golden lotus pedestal, upon which someone was seated.

Radiating a dazzling golden light, the figure had no face.

It was clearly the shape of a face—but there were no eyes, ears, nose, or mouth.

Just a smooth, featureless face, like an egg. Yang Geon murmured as he stared at it.

None of them had ever been affiliated with the Buddhist faith. But just looking at that statue stirred something spiritual even in the most irreligious.

It was truly a unique statue.

As if by silent agreement, everyone began to step inside.

While many were still taking in their surroundings, Yang Geon of the Baekseol Ghost Brigade, who had shown particular interest in the statue, began to approach it.

"Planning to go closer?"

"I’d like to investigate, Lord Daeseollin."

"What do you think you’ll find? Just wait a bit."

Yang Geon smiled awkwardly.

The entire hall trembled, and from the walls, light began to stream from the engraved 108 statues of Arhats.

One by one, the statues detached from the walls, forming complete figures as if imbued with life—and in an instant, 108 Arhats surrounded the group.

Hyeonjin’s face turned pale.

"...The 108 Arhat Formation...?"

All 108 Arhats raised their hands toward the group. In that instant, a voice resounded simultaneously in every mind.

「Only those who seek the Way with a pure heart shall receive the wisdom of the Hall of Dharma Clouds. Show us your hearts.」

Before the voice had even faded, the Arhats attacked as one. For beings made of stone, their speed was absurd.

Seol Horyeong tried to counter immediately, but his internal force still wouldn’t respond.

He blocked the first Arhat’s strike with his bare hands but was pushed back by the force.

And yet, a strange smile curved his lips.

He seemed to find the situation... amusing.

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With that, Seol Horyeong began fending off four Arhats at once.

Dongwoo was already battling two of them.

His martial prowess was outstanding, but without internal force, it was difficult to fully block their attacks.

Then, three more Arhats burst from the wall and charged in. Dongwoo now had to deal with five.

A flicker of panic crossed his eyes.

"You think the Baekseol Brigade will fall to something ?! Hah!"

With a shout, Dongwoo spun like a whirlwind.

Even without internal force, the raw strength honed over years of training allowed him to hold his own.

But the Arhats’ attacks were precise. One wielding a vajra broke through his defense.

The blow slammed into Dongwoo’s shoulder.

He staggered. Another Arhat lashed out with a chain, which wrapped around his ankle.

Dongwoo lost his balance and fell to one knee. At that moment, a third Arhat lunged with a dagger toward his throat.

Yeon Chuha tried to rush over, but he was already surrounded by six Arhats. Anxiety spread through his icy gaze.

Hyeonjin’s shout echoed through the hall. The dagger closed in.

It was a hair’s breadth from death.

Until two beams of light flashed through the air.

One cut down the Arhat lunging with the dagger.

The other sliced through the chain binding Dongwoo’s leg.

A cascade of long hair swirled in the air.

It was Seol Horyeong.

"If someone who bears the weight of Cheonseolmun dies in a place ... how meaningless would that be?"

Dongwoo gritted his teeth as he stared at the smiling Seol Horyeong.

He rose to his feet and resumed the fight.

Even without internal force—he had lived by the sword, placing his life on each strike.

The spirit of a warrior does not crumble so easily.

And then it happened.

More than ten Arhats charged toward Yang Geon of the Baekseol Ghost Brigade.

Already wounded in several places, there was no way he could fend off ten more.

Seol Horyeong rushed in.

His sword had no internal force behind it—but with a single stroke, he split an Arhat in half. It was no accident he was called a genius.

All things, all beings, possess what is called a "seam"—their weakest point.

Striking it can allow even an ordinary weapon to deliver a fatal blow.

Seol Horyeong could see those seams. His blade was so attuned to spirit, intent, and technique that it could cleave through stone as though it were paper.

Two Arhats were bisected in an instant. His movements, even without internal energy, were astonishingly swift.

As Seol Horyeong charged, Yang Geon ducked the first Arhat’s strike—but couldn’t avoid the second spear.

The spear drove deep into his side. The third Arhat swung nunchaku toward Yang Geon’s legs.

It struck hard, and Yang Geon fell to his knees.

The second Arhat pulled out the spear. The third readied another strike with the nunchaku.

The Arhat with the nunchaku was split in half, and Seol Horyeong’s foot slammed into the chest of the spear-wielder.

As it skidded backward, Seol Horyeong’s eyes sharpened.

Left neck. Right lower abdomen.

His blade flew for the left neck—

The Arhat’s head soared into the air.

He immediately helped Yang Geon to his feet.

Yang Geon nodded, pale and bleeding.

"...I’m sorry... Lord Commander..."

"Nothing to be sorry for. Just stay low. I’ll patch you up after we clear this."

Though something about Yang Geon’s words gave Seol Horyeong a strange feeling, he didn’t dwell on it.

There were more pressing matters.

But as he turned to face the Arhats again—

Yang Geon’s gaze changed. Cold and merciless.

A small dagger gleamed in it. And it wasn’t pointed at the Arhats.

It was aimed at Seol Horyeong’s back.

"...I’m truly sorry...!"

Yang Geon lunged, dagger thrusting.

With a sharp burst of air, a longsword flew in and pierced Yang Geon’s skull.

The dagger dropped from his hand. His eyes froze wide open.

Everyone’s gaze turned to the source of the strike.

Seol Horyeong stared at him in disbelief.

"I did tell you, didn’t I? Watch the people more than the hidden realms."

His voice was calm—but beneath it lay chilling ruthlessness.

Only then did Seol Horyeong see it. The fallen Yang Geon. The dagger lying in front of him.

Anyone could see that the blade had been aimed at Seol Horyeong himself.

"This... what the hell..."

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

There was no time to think.

The Arhats were attacking again.