Chapter 129 : The Truth of the Buddha Ghost Demon

Chapter 129: The Truth of the Buddha Ghost Demon

At a time when mysterious waves of bloodshed, including Living Jiangshi, were continuing throughout the Central Plains, the Martial Alliance had been on the defensive against the Bright Cult, even losing the Number One of the Hundred Paths.

Thus, one might think that in this series of incidents, the Martial Alliance had done nothing at all—reduced to the point of helplessness and mere spectatorship—but that would be a misjudgment.

They had not responded aggressively only because these were incidents expected to cause large-scale damage. The pursuit, however, had continued steadily.

After all, the Martial Alliance was, in name and in truth, the central pillar of the Hundred Paths.

It was an alliance formed by sects with histories stretching a thousand years at the longest, and at the shortest, several centuries.

Naturally, its latent power could never be ignored. A portion of that latent power had been invested into tracking the Living Jiangshi.

Within the Martial Alliance, they were called Room 32. Among the people of the Martial World, they were known as the Supernatural Phenomena Investigation Unit—commonly shortened to ‘Supernatural Unit.’ They were one such manifestation of that latent strength.

“Isn’t that Suzhou?”

At the question from Daoist Chamyeong, who was moving with them, Monk Ilyeon—who had been leading the pursuit—failed to hide his flustered expression.

“T-that is correct, but…….”

“If the traces of bloodshed we’re chasing truly lead to Suzhou, then that place should already have become a land of death.”

It was only natural. The incident they were tracking always began with the deaths of everyone connected to it.

That’s right. They were pursuing the case that ignorant people commonly referred to as the ‘Ghost Cult Bloodshed.’

Room 32 had been deployed to the incident because it was judged highly likely that the perpetrator was not human.

It was precisely the sort of matter best handled by Room 32, which investigated supernatural events occurring within the Martial World.

Given the nature of their duties, the overwhelming majority of Room 32’s members excelled in Daoist arts or Buddhist techniques.

Naturally, martial artists from the Buddhist and Daoist factions formed the core.

Moreover, since most of their missions involved pursuit, they included specialists in spiritual trace tracking—such as Monk Ilyeon, an expert in tracking spiritual vestiges (traces of departed souls).

The problem was that this very expert seemed to have followed the wrong lead.

Seeing Monk Ilyeon’s visible discomfort, Great Master Jeongbeop, who led Room 32, stepped forward.

“Whether it was correct or mistaken can only be known once we see it with our own eyes. Since we have come this far, let us go to the end.”

Great Master Jeongbeop was a master unknown to the outside world.

His realm was the Transcendent Realm.

He had already been in the Transcendent Realm since the days when it was widely believed that Shaolin possessed only one such master—Unyeon Dharma King.

This had been possible because his affiliation was with Inner Shaolin.

Inner Shaolin.

They were those who, unless Shaolin itself stood on the brink of annihilation, would never reveal their existence.

That someone belonging to such a place now openly moved about was connected to the origins of Room 32.

The story went back three hundred years.

Three hundred years ago, an untimely Rebellion of the Murderous Ghost had erupted in the Martial World.

At the name “Murderous Ghost,” one might assume it referred to a demonic being whose Demonic Energy had seeped into the marrow—but this incident had truly been caused by a ghost.

To the Buddhist sects, tragically, the name given to that incident had been the ‘Rebellion of the Buddha Ghost.’

Because the ghost that went about harming people had a shaved head and wore monk’s robes.

At first, the Buddhist sects had scoffed—saying how could it make sense for a ghost to go about killing people? They only dispatched masters because of that very name.

Naturally, Shaolin, called the progenitor of the Martial World’s Buddhist sects, took the lead.

Of course, from the beginning, they had not believed they were going to capture a ghost.

They believed they were going to capture someone pretending to be one.

Thus, the martial artists dispatched were those skilled in martial arts.

The result was disastrous.

All eight members of the pursuit team were killed.

Shaolin was shaken.

Among those dispatched had been individuals ranked among the Hundred Great Masters of the era.

Furthermore, there were no signs of battle whatsoever.

Except for the one standing night watch, all had been attacked while asleep in their camp.

In the end, only after Shaolin deployed experts proficient in Buddhist arts did they determine that the opponent was truly a ghost.

Of course, not a spiritual entity in the pure sense—but a person possessed by one.

That’s right.

It had been the act of a monk upon whom a ghost had descended.

Whether through possession or otherwise, it could no longer be denied that it had been the doing of a ghost.

The confident claims that a ghost could never harm a person collapsed.

Meanwhile, the deaths of the innocent continued, and among them were not only renowned figures of the Martial World but also many who had been respected by commoners.

Shaolin was shaken.

They had no desire to expose to the entire world that their complacency had led to such a tragic outcome. Using their influence, they established a secret organization within the Martial Alliance.

And they gave it the vague name Room 32.

By name alone, no one could tell what sort of work it did.

They sent Shaolin’s experts in Buddhist arts there.

Wudang, which—aside from early friction—had maintained ties with Shaolin since its founding, also sent experts in Daoist arts.

The complexity of the matter demanded a high degree of intellectual capability. In exchange for pushing the Zhuge Clan—then awkwardly lingering on the fringes of the Martial World as merely a family of strategists—into the ranks of the Six Great Clans, Shaolin demanded the dispatch of a Wise One.

When the Zhuge Clan agreed, the Soundless Flying Blade—an Inner Shaolin martial art—was transferred to the Zhuge Clan.

Immediately afterward, the greatest Wise One of the Zhuge Clan at the time was dispatched to Room 32.

Shaolin’s dedication to Room 32 did not end there.

No matter that it was the deed of a ghost—in the end, physical force was still involved. They needed masters capable of combat as well.

However, Shaolin had only barely succeeded in creating a secret organization within the Martial Alliance and avoiding public scrutiny. They could not now belatedly dispatch masters from their own sect and draw attention once more.

In the end, Shaolin decided to send masters from Inner Shaolin.

The opposition from Inner Shaolin was overcome with the argument that the disastrous rumor of the ‘Buddha Ghost’ would ultimately drive Shaolin itself into crisis.

That was how the upper-tier masters of Inner Shaolin came to be included in Room 32.

Thus completed, Room 32 carried out operations for two months, and the incident that had been called the ‘Rebellion of the Buddha Ghost’ came to an end as the killings ceased.

How it had been resolved, whether the culprit had been captured, or for what reason the ghost had killed—none of it was known.

But it was certain that once Room 32 stepped in, the incident was resolved.

After that, in every case that could not be explained by orthodox doctrine, Room 32 was involved without exception—and most were solved.

In short, its effectiveness had been proven.

To maintain Room 32, Shaolin and Wudang continued—even three hundred years later—to dispatch experts in Buddhist arts and Daoist arts. Naturally, masters from Inner Shaolin were dispatched as well.

That was why Great Master Jeongbeop of Inner Shaolin belonged to Room 32.

Nor was that all. Three more masters of Inner Shaolin were also assigned.

Including them, the full complement of Room 32 was twelve.

But today, with one absent, eleven followed Great Master Jeongbeop toward Suzhou.

The Wise One dispatched from the Zhuge Clan had requested a brief leave and returned home.

The sudden surge of white light subsided, revealing an endless labyrinth.

At that sight—enough to make anyone panic—Zhuge Hoon merely smiled faintly.

It was a formation he knew well.

“The Illusory Maze Formation!”

In the past, during a contest of formations, Zhuge Hoon had been thoroughly defeated by this very formation. It was the formation that had earned Zhuge Giyeon the nickname Thousand-Year Prodigy.

Among the countless formations said to have been devised by Zhuge Liang, the founding ancestor of the Zhuge Clan, the Illusory Maze Formation had been one that remained lost—until Zhuge Giyeon recreated it.

The secret manual for deploying it had remained within the clan, yet none had been able to comprehend it.

After the founding ancestor Zhuge Liang, the first descendant to unravel and realize it had been Zhuge Giyeon.

Naturally, Zhuge Hoon could not deploy it.

He had heard explanations from Zhuge Giyeon many times, yet never understood a word of it.

However, he did know how to escape.

Not in every circumstance—but only in one specific case.

The very moment when he himself had once been trapped and floundering within this formation.

Gapshin Day. Hour of the Pig.

Only now did he understand why Zhuge Giyeon had deliberately chosen this time frame.

On Gapshin Day at the Hour of the Pig, Zhuge Hoon knew the method of escape.

Back then, outside the formation, Zhuge Giyeon had transmitted the method to him through Mental Voice Transmission, and he had followed those instructions to break free.

Recalling that memory from the past, Zhuge Hoon moved slowly and carefully.

Though he was not called a Thousand-Year Prodigy like Zhuge Giyeon, he was still regarded as a Hundred-Year Prodigy.

His memory flawlessly reproduced the method of breaking the formation for Gapshin Day at the Hour of the Pig.

“Hoo…”

With a deep sigh, Zhuge Hoon stepped out of the formation.

What unfolded before his eyes was nothing short of a shock.

“W-why is this here!”

In every direction he looked, dark crimson fruits wrapped in fine fuzz hung in abundance.

And most astonishingly, those bearing the fruits were still-breathing people.

There were dozens of them, lined up in rows.

Emaciated to the bone, they resembled trees, and at the region of their Dantian, each bore a single dark crimson fruit wrapped in downy fuzz.

It was a Demon Fruit.

As its name—fruit of the Demon Realm—suggested, it was a sorcery of the Demonic Path.

It was a drug that summoned the soul of the dead and allowed one to use its abilities.

Typically, the summoned souls were those of masters who had once displayed unparalleled prowess.

The problem was that the process was not perfect.

There were cases where the soul of a heinous Demonic Path master was summoned, only to have become a devout adherent of Buddhist law in the afterlife—unable to kill even a single ant.

There were also cases where the soul of the greatest master of the Hundred Paths was summoned, only to have been corrupted by Demonic Energy and reduced to a lustful specter obsessed solely with women.

The greater problem was that once such a bond was formed, the summoned soul could not be released unless the caster died.

In other words, one might live an entire lifetime unable to kill even an ant—or be chased until death as a lecherous specter obsessed with women.

As grave as those numerous issues were, there was another equally severe problem: the method of creating a Demon Fruit.

True to Demonic Path sorcery, it was unspeakably cruel.

It was obtained by turning living people—martial artists who had reached the Peak Realm and were quite accomplished—into Ghost-Human Trees.

Just like the people now bearing Demon Fruits at their Dantian.

“A Demon Fruit on a Ghost-Human Tree… Giyeon hyung, what on earth have you done!”

Zhuge Hoon’s shocked voice received an unexpected answer.

“You have arrived, hyung.”

At the sudden voice, Zhuge Hoon turned his head—and his eyes widened even more than when he had first seen the Demon Fruits.

“H-how are you here!”

His shock was only natural.

He was the one dispatched by the Zhuge Clan to Room 32 for this generation. Given the nature of his work, unless there was a special reason, even returning home was forbidden.

And yet here he was, inside the Illusory Maze Formation deployed by Zhuge Giyeon.

“How could you not have heard anything from Giyeon hyung?”

At the question from Zhuge Muryang—who was also his cousin—Zhuge Hoon asked in return,

“Heard what?”

“The clan’s prosperity plan.”

“The clan’s prosperity plan? I am already carrying that out—”

He trailed off mid-sentence, eyes widening.

“Don’t tell me you mean that conversation we had when we were young?”

Zhuge Hoon practically barked the question.

Zhuge Muryang answered with a somewhat puzzled expression.

“Of course I do. But what is that look? Don’t tell me you didn’t know? And how did you even get here—”

Zhuge Hoon did not even hear the rest.

His expression utterly shaken, his gaze darted back to the Demon Fruits.

“Don’t tell me… Buddha Ghost Demon Fruit!”