Chapter 245: Emergence of the Divine Dragon

The Murim Alliance was secretly in an uproar.

Several mid-to-low ranking officials, including a Murim Alliance Secretary and a Councilor, had been found dead within the Alliance headquarters.

The victims had suddenly complained of abdominal pain, collapsed, convulsed, and ultimately died.

When Jo Hyeonryang heard the autopsy results, he clutched his head.

“Gu Poison? What are you talking about?”

“A lethal poison erupted within their bodies, potent enough to liquefy their internal organs. However, their gallbladders and livers were reported to be unusually clean in color. Furthermore, intelligence suggests there were victims not only within the Alliance but also among the Authorities.”

“Hmph. So?” Jo Hyeonryang[^Jo Hyeonryang's the current Murim Alliance Leader] asked.

“The Military Affairs Department suggests that whoever spread the Gu Poison in Kaifeng either achieved their objective or reached an impasse, then discarded the entire group and departed.”

An impasse, huh, Jo Hyeonryang mused. That unnecessarily fancy phrasing sounds exactly like the Military Affairs Department.

“Aren’t the guests from the Tang Clan here?” he asked. “They’re experts in that field. Why haven’t you requested their cooperation?”

“Isn’t this something that could become a disgrace to the Alliance? For now, we are investigating the victims to see if there was any corruption carried out under the influence of Gu Poison control.”

“Hmm. Alright.”

Jo Hyeonryang nodded. He wondered if there was any point in reporting if they were going to handle it all themselves anyway.

But this was the fate of the Murim Alliance Leader.

The practical work was done by the subordinates, but the leader had to know every detail of what happened within the Alliance.

“And here are the results of the Grand Council. Please review everything before giving your approval. It will be problematic if you just casually stamp it like last time and then claim you never permitted it.”

If you’re going to act like this, why don’t you be the Alliance Leader? Jo Hyeonryang could only let out a deep sigh.

The fervor of the Murim Conference was reaching its climax.

With most of the various events concluding, the results of the Grand Council were proclaimed from the floating tournament stage before the semifinal matches of the Hidden Dragon Tournament began.

This was the collective will of the Orthodox Murim, where even small, local martial halls had cast their vote.

Jo Hyeonryang, looking almost ethereal like an immortal in his fine clothes, declared the Murim Alliance’s official future activities with an astounding voice amplified by internal energy.

First, there was news of support for the Orthodox martial halls in the southeastern Central Plains, specifically the Yangzhou and Jiao regions.

These areas struggled to stand firm against the pressure from the Sado Alliance, so the initiative aimed to help them escape the oppression.

The establishment of a new Murim Alliance Honam Branch was an extension of this, as its location was optimal for rapid deployment to both Yangzhou and Jiao.

However, what truly ignited everyone’s excitement was the news of the revival of the Uijeong Martial Hall.

Simply put, the Uijeong Martial Hall was the Murim Alliance’s non-regular training institution.

Its purpose was essentially: Send us your talented boys and girls, and we’ll make them experts.

Since they generously shared techniques from the Nine Great Sects (at the lay disciple level) and the Ten Great Clans (at the collateral branch level), along with low-grade elixirs, its training effectiveness was such that whenever it occasionally opened, future experts were said to pour out in droves.

Truthfully, for famous sects and factions, it wasn’t an overwhelmingly attractive option.

If they already had renowned divine arts and established disciple training systems, there was no need to leak talented individuals to the Murim Alliance for nurturing.

But for small martial halls or young, unknown individuals aspiring to join the ranks of the Orthodox Faction’s experts, it was the very gateway to success—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a dragon to rise from a ditch.

“Ooooh!! Waaaah!!”

Amidst the escalating atmosphere, Qing heard the cheers clearly even from beyond the window of the contestant waiting room.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Did some famous restaurant start handing out unlimited meal tickets?”

“Honestly. You connect everything to food,” Peng Daesan replied.

“What else could make them cheer like that?” Qing countered. “Unless the Alliance Leader announced, ‘It’s on me today!’ and threw a feast or something.”

Peng Daesan, also waiting for his match, let out a chuckle.

The two semifinal matches were Gongson Yoye versus Peng Daesan, and Wolbong versus Ximen Qing.

In the end, despite everything, those with the highest individual realms were the ones left standing.

“San,” Qing said. “What should we eat after the match? Either you or Ye will win, so I’m treating today. A celebratory drink for the winner, and a consolation drink for the loser. How about Sahongchun Liquor? I hear it’s quite popular these days?”

“Aren’t you nervous at all?” Peng Daesan asked. “Hmm. If you lose, that drink might end up being your consolation prize.”

“As if,” Qing scoffed. “I, the transcendent Ximen Qing, cannot possibly lose in a tournament where kids are playing.”

Peng Daesan’s lips curled slightly as he asked, “So, who are you rooting for? Me, or Young Lady Gongson?”

“What’s with that childish question?” Qing replied. “San, are you the type to ask if someone likes Mom or Dad better?”

“Vaguely insisting you like both isn’t great either,” Peng Daesan pressed. “So, who will you cheer for?”

“Hmm.”

Qing rubbed her chin, pretending to think seriously, before finally giving her answer.

“I suppose I’ll have to root for San. There’s the loyalty from knowing you longer, for one.”

“Are you sure?” Peng Daesan questioned. “I feel like you’d give a different answer if Young Lady Gongson were here.”

“No,” Qing said. “Based on our sparring results, if San makes it to the finals, I’m guaranteed to win. Ye is somehow… subtly tricky to deal with. And it feels like she hasn’t shown her true worth yet?”

Peng Daesan’s eyebrow twitched.

She was basically saying she was rooting for him because he was the much easier opponent.

“Do people normally say things like that to someone’s face?” he asked.

“Hmph. If you don’t like it, win and face me,” Qing retorted.

“Ha. You too,” Peng Daesan said. “Don’t underestimate Shaolin’s martial arts, or you’ll seriously regret it. But don’t worry too much if you lose. I’ll pour you enough drinks to drown yourself in.”

“Hmm. Can’t tell if that’s a curse or a blessing,” Qing mused.

As Qing tilted her head, Peng Daesan’s turn finally arrived.

He stood up and headed out of the waiting room, but paused, gripping the doorframe and looking back.

“Win and come up,” he said. “We need to have a proper fight in the finals, don’t we?”

Then, with slightly reddened earlobes, he quickly vanished.

Qing instantly sensed the outcome of the match.

Saying lines like that guarantees certain defeat. You absolutely can’t win after that, nope.

And, as a result of cosmic inevitability, that’s exactly what happened.

Qing wasn’t particularly surprised, having already expected it. She merely noted with gleaming eyes that she now had another great piece of teasing material.

And then, it was Qing’s turn.

She strode down the now-familiar passage within the ship, about to leap onto the tournament stage.

A colossal roar surged upwards, vibrating the thick floorboards of the floating stage.

Shaolin’s status within the martial world could be expressed in a single word.

Pinnacle.

There was even a saying: All martial arts under heaven come from Shaolin.

Consequently, to the common folk unfamiliar with martial arts, Shaolin was practically synonymous with the martial world itself—an idol.

Furthermore, the current Greatest Under Heaven hailed from Shaolin.

And his young disciple, carrying on the lineage, was advancing through the Hidden Dragon Tournament with successive, swift victories. It was only natural that everyone was ecstatic.

The place was already teeming with people dramatically proclaiming this as the next Greatest Under Heaven’s earth-shattering debut into the martial world.

The atmosphere felt as if the winner of the tournament had already been decided.

Fueled by this fervor, the roar when Monk Wolbong leaped up and landed with a heavy thud truly shook the heavens.

And when Wolbong performed Shaolin’s signature greeting towards all directions, the sound grew even louder.

It was a greeting method called Banjang, the Half Palm.

It originated from long ago when a highly virtuous monk named Huike sought teachings from Bodhidharma and offered his own severed arm as tuition.

Bodhidharma, unexpectedly receiving a severed arm when he’d merely asked for an offering, supposedly thought, This one’s a real tough bastard, and accepted him as a disciple.

Normally, the respectful greeting involves pressing both palms together. But Huike, now one-armed, could only manage the gesture with a single hand.

Using only half the usual number of hands led to his version being called Banjang—the Half Palm greeting.

However, the cheering went on for quite a while.

The spectators, thrilled to witness the moment the future Greatest Under Heaven spread his wings, couldn’t contain their excitement.

Monk Wolbong raised his Half Palm greeting once more.

At that, the audience, heedless of their own throats, raised their voices even higher.

Seeing this, Ximen Surin frowned.

Normally, in official events, when one person appeared and received cheers, the next person was expected to wait until the noise subsided as a basic courtesy.

However, if the enthusiasm dragged on, the person being cheered also had an obligation to request restraint at an appropriate point and quiet things down.

Thus, Ximen Surin couldn't help but click her tongue.

What an insolent young brat monk.

Of course, having likely only trained secluded on Mount Song without ever making a name for himself, it wasn't entirely incomprehensible that he'd get drunk on the crowd's adoration.

But for a Shaolin martial monk, whose core should be an Immovable Mind, his training was clearly still severely lacking.

Ximen Surin didn't hide her displeasure, glaring towards the high seats.

Sure enough, Great Monk Muhak, the Greatest Under Heaven known as the Divine Monk, couldn't hide his embarrassment either, his protruding eyebrows knitted in a frown.

Seeing that, Ximen Surin felt just a little bit better.

It seems he passed down martial arts well enough, but failed to properly instill Buddhist discipline.

Finally, even the announcer stepped forward, waving his hands and pleading for calm.

Only then did the lovely disciple make her entrance with a fairy-like, graceful bearing—

“Wow. It’s the Ugly Sword Maiden.”

Ximen Surin clenched her fists tightly.

Since few people responded, it was practically silence compared to the previous roars that had vibrated the stage.

It was a starkly different attitude even compared to when the Gong Clan girl had appeared earlier.

Of course, the Gong Clan girl, though simple, was still a beauty, and her opponent being the Jade Qilin likely garnered more support.

They assume my disciple is ugly because she covers her face.

Ximen Surin was already hardened to the treatment of women in the Jianghu, but she worried that Qing might be hurt before the match even began.

Qing wasn’t particularly bothered.

She had simply waited patiently, thinking, As expected of Shaolin, they’re really popular.

Even her past self, ignorant of the martial world and Murim novels, had known that Shaolin monks practiced martial arts. So, how much more would the people of the Central Plains know?

But where did this common knowledge about Shaolin martial arts even come from? Practically everyone knows it. Well, no point thinking about it, I guess.

“I’m Ximen Qing of the Divine Maiden Sect,” she announced.

“Amitabha[^(Amitabha is the name of a principal Buddha in Mahayana Buddhism, often invoked by monks as a greeting or expression of piety.)]. I am Wolbong of Shaolin,” he replied.

Only then did Qing see Wolbong up close.

He had remained aloof, never showing his face anywhere but the tournament matches, and Qing, who only associated with her friends in the Mucheon Pavilion, had only seen him from afar in the audience seats.

And so, looking at Wolbong, Qing thought:

Hmm. But… he looks kinda old.

Is he really a ‘Hidden Dragon’…? I guess he must be?

He looked to be in his mid-thirties at a glance, making her wonder if he wasn’t a bit old to be competing in a contest for the rising generation.

But then again, Qing wasn’t exactly in a position to judge honestly.

She herself was participating at the age of twenty this year, so she knew full well that one could just insist even if they fudged their age a bit.

Wolbong would have been mortified if he knew her thoughts.

Because Wolbong was twenty-seven this year, a young man in his prime.

Besides, young Shaolin disciples tended to age a bit faster, a result of the extremely strict external arts training they underwent from childhood.

Wolbong’s case was just a little more severe than most.

Oblivious to Qing’s disrespectful thoughts, Wolbong maintained his Half Palm pose and spoke.

“I shall yield the first move to you, benefactor.”

“I won’t refuse,” Qing replied. “Alright. Here I come!”

Then, Qing stomped forward forcefully.

T/N: If anything’s unclear, just leave a comment and I’ll patch it up. I’ve done my best to keep the English smooth—thanks for bearing with me!