Chapter 175

Unhwi raised his right hand.

His doppelgänger also raised its right hand.

When Unhwi raised his left hand, the doppelgänger likewise raised its left.

Then—

Jiun’s voice echoed in his ears.

"How curious. Why does your doppelgänger not attack?"

This voice was heard only by Unhwi, no one else.

He answered quietly.

“There is no need to attack.”

"What do you mean?"

“I already know what my doppelgänger is—and what the darkness inside me is.”

“......”

“Unfortunately, I have no enemy within. If I do, it would be myself.”

This simple statement was interpreted somewhat differently by Jiun.

"You mean to say... you have lived your life with not a single regret?"

“There were regrets—just none that remain.”

Unhwi slowly stepped forward toward his doppelgänger. The doppelgänger mirrored him exactly, stepping forward as well.

“I’ve faced my inner self countless times. Whether in contemplation, or while circulating my qi. More times than I can possibly count. At this point, there’s nothing left to fear—and nothing left to deny.”

At those words, a subtle tremble ran through the doppelgänger’s eyes. As if acknowledging the truth in what he said.

"Then why do you two merely stare at each other?"

A faint, lonely smile traced Unhwi’s lips.

“Because there’s no need to fight. And nothing to express.”

“No need to fight... and nothing to express? No—that is a fundamentally different issue. You and your doppelgänger... you see one another as the most dangerous opponent in this world.”

Jiun was sharply perceptive.

In an instant, he had seen through the true reason why Unhwi and his reflection stood facing each other ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ in silence.

“...Hah...”

An involuntary breath of wonder escaped him.

To have lived without hiding anything, to stand without shame before oneself, and yet still know fear—if there was anything to fear, it was only oneself.

It went beyond arrogance—it was the confidence of one who believed there was nothing in the world more fearsome than himself.

Anyone—Jiun or otherwise—would have been in awe of that.

Unhwi extended his hand toward his doppelgänger. As if offering a handshake. The doppelgänger likewise reached out.

The moment their hands touched, a brilliant flash erupted—and the doppelgänger vanished where it stood, as if dissolved into the light.

“Astonishing. You have already accepted your inner darkness.”

Jiun’s voice was filled with wonder.

“Most martial artists try to fight their inner selves. Believing they can win. But that’s an illusion. You cannot defeat the darkness within. You can only accept and understand it.”

Seol Horyeong and Seo Hyo were still engaged in fierce combat with their doppelgängers. Sweat ran down their faces, injuries were piling up, and they were visibly growing fatigued.

“It seems you will not be tested by an ordinary reflection.”

The moment he said that, the Vajra Guardian in the center of the hall began to move.

And at the power flowing from the statue, Unhwi let out a dry laugh.

It was the energy of a Martial God.

Pure Heaven-Earth spiritual qi.

He turned his head and stared into the empty space ahead.

Nothing could be seen—but it was clear that Jiun was there.

Unhwi tossed his words forward, almost lazily.

“This is boring.”

“...What do you mean?”

Without answering, Unhwi drew out the Yijinjing from inside his robes.

Though still locked in battle, Seol Horyeong and Seo Hyo had been listening closely, and thus they both saw what Unhwi was doing.

Yes.

They saw—and so they reacted.

“What... what are you doing?!”

“Youngest brother...? What are you...?”

Unhwi was holding the Yijinjing in both hands—his right gripping the top, his left the bottom.

Anyone could see what he was about to do.

He was going to rip it in half.

It was a Pre-Heaven martial art.

A supreme scripture created by Bodhidharma in the midst of wall-gazing meditation.

A martial art so coveted that every faction in the world would fight to possess it the moment it surfaced.

Seo Hyo knew Unhwi well enough—he had seen him commit insane acts before. He knew Unhwi would truly destroy it.

Seol Horyeong hadn’t known him long, but based on everything he had seen within the secret realm and the stories he had heard, he came to the same conclusion.

They tried to strike down their doppelgängers—but strangely, the reflections grew stronger.

Instead, the two of them were pushed back.

“...This is the core martial art of Shaolin...! Please, don’t do it!”

“You... you were born with genius beyond even what I could ever reach. You’d surely master the Yijinjing—why do this, all of a sudden?”

Even Jiun, who had been silent, spoke at last.

"The Yijinjing. You would destroy something mightier than all other martial arts you know? You go too far. How about we stop this childish play?"

Unhwi found the situation genuinely laughable.

So—

“How are you so sure this is the Yijinjing?”

“...What...?”

Seo Hyo and Seol Horyeong both made dumbfounded sounds in unison.

“Ku-ku-ku-ku...”

Jiun began to laugh.

From the start, this secret realm was anything but ordinary.

Yes, it belonged to Shaolin—but would the Shaolin Temple truly hand over its greatest treasure, the Yijinjing, so easily?

Of course not. You were supposed to question it.

The clues had been there all along.

Where were they?

Shaolin.

And where within Shaolin?

The Vajra Hall.

What was the name of the trial?

Vajra Heart Seal (Geumgang Simbong).

And who was the guardian of this place?

A Vajra Guardian—a wrathful guardian of the Buddha’s law.

Why test the inner self?

Why use the word Heart Seal, and why prefix it with Vajra?

Jiun had given them all the clues from the very beginning.

He had clearly said:

“Face your inner self. And choose.”

The inner selves had expressed their desires—so what was it they were being asked to choose?

To uncover the truth of the Yijinjing, which could neither be opened nor read in the previous trial, they had to clear every gate.

In that brief moment, the objective had shifted.

From survival—to the pursuit of the legendary treasure called Yijinjing.

But in truth, no one knew whether it was real.

The only one who had said it was the Yijinjing—was Jiun.

No one had confirmed its contents.

So why trust him?

They had been seduced by the term Pre-Heaven, by the name of Bodhidharma, and by the notion of a godlike martial art.

It was simple psychological warfare. Most martial artists would fall prey to it.

This second trial came down to one thing.

Would you be swayed by desire—or not?

Unhwi had no doubt in his own judgment, and he was not swayed by desire.

Without hesitation—

He tore the Yijinjing in half.

Rip—!

The doppelgängers that had been rushing at Seo Hyo and Seol Horyeong disintegrated into dust.

The Vajra Guardian, which had begun to move, crumbled.

And the lightning that had lit the chamber turned into pure radiance, flooding the entire space.

Only then did Jiun, suspended in the sky above, become visible.

He looked down at Unhwi, now engulfed in light—and he was smiling.

Even though he had no mouth.

***

When the blinding light engulfed the world, Unhwi realized he had been transported elsewhere.

The surroundings were completely different from the Vajra Hall.

He now stood inside a massive hermitage.

It was spacious, with a high ceiling—but no furniture, no decorations.

Only one man.

And one immense painting.

Ahead of him, a monk sat with his back turned, gazing at the painting on the wall.

Unhwi, for a moment, forgot his surroundings and turned his eyes to the mural as well.

It covered the entire wall of the hermitage.

Its scale was overwhelming—but more than that, its content was astonishing.

It seemed to depict the very creation and transformation of the universe.

At the top, the moment of separation between Heaven and Earth from primal chaos.

In the center, the harmony of Yin and Yang.

At the bottom, the generation of all things through that balance.

The lines within the image seemed to move with life. The colors pulsed like breath.

It was stunning.

Unhwi had seen countless paintings in his life—but never anything like this. It stirred something deep within him.

This couldn’t be described as a masterpiece. It was beyond that.

Overwhelming. And overwhelming again.

There was no doubt.

A work passed down only through records—its existence uncertain.

The Painting of Heaven and Earth’s Genesis (Cheonjigaebyeokdo).

Unhwi slowly calmed his breath.

His heart instinctively became reverent.

Before long, he shifted his gaze.

The man—no, the monk—still sat with his back turned, his eyes fixed on the painting.

His posture was flawless.

Perfection itself.

He exuded the kind of stillness that made it feel like he’d been sitting there not just for years or decades, but centuries.

At last, the monk’s voice reached Unhwi’s ears.

“You tore the Yijinjing.”

Just one sentence.

But within it was profound insight. It was neither praise nor reproach—merely a statement of fact.

Unhwi pondered that deep, heavy voice before replying quietly.

“I couldn’t be sure it truly was the Yijinjing.”

“So you tore it?”

“Yes.”

“What if it had been?”

“Then I still would have torn it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s just martial arts.”

“...‘Just martial arts’...”

The monk trailed off and slowly turned his head.

His face was aged, furrowed deeply by time. But his eyes were clear and vivid—as if they held the stars of the universe.

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

“How impressive.”

Unhwi gazed at him in silence, then brought his palms together in greeting.

“This humble junior greets High Monk Goseung Seonsa.”

A flicker passed through the monk’s eyes.

“There shouldn’t even be a portrait of me. How do you know?”

“I could guess.”

“A guess...? Can you elaborate?”

“Yes. The timeline doesn’t match for you to be Bodhidharma himself. And the fact that you’re gazing upon the Painting of Heaven and Earth’s Genesis means you must be someone who’s inherited Bodhidharma’s will. I’m no expert on Shaolin, but I do know this: among those who mastered the Yijinjing, only one name is recorded. During the Millennium Cataclysm, the one who stood against Won Geukcheon—leader of the Thousand-Year Sect—was the leader of the Murim Alliance and abbot of Shaolin: Goseung Seonsa.”

A soft smile formed on Unhwi’s lips.

“Yes. It could be no one but you.”

Goseung Seonsa studied him with eyes full of depth.

“And who are you?”

“I am called Seol Unhwi.”

“No—I asked who you are. Not just your name.”

“...If only I knew that myself.”