RDM (Novel) Chapter 601

Chapter 601


A powerful looking monk gazed at a large mountain in the distance.

It was Mount Wudang, a famous mountain that exuded an aura of spirituality.

The monk's name was Unsong.

He was an elder of the Shaolin Temple and the so-called First Shaolin Master.

He was hastily sent to mediate the conflict between Wudang Sect and Dragon Mountain Manor by order of Master Unji, the head of Shaolin Temple.

At his back were dozens of disciples.

They all wore serious expressions, knowing the gravity of the situation.

Shaolin Temple knew that if they couldn't prevent the conflict between Dragon Mountain Manor and Wudang Sect, a great disaster would befall Kangho. That's why they had sent Unsong, known as the First Shaolin Master.

“Amitabha! Amitabha! We must not be late.”

When they heard the news of the clash between the two sects, they hastily gathered their men and set out, but the distance was so great that they were only just arriving

Unsong spoke to his disciples,

“Everyone, summon your strength a bit more. Wudang Mountain is just ahead.”


The Shaolin disciples responded in unison.

All of them were renowned martial artists, possessing exemplary skills even among the elite disciples of the Shaolin Temple.

Their urgency matched that of Unsong.

Although their interaction was limited due to distance, the Wudang Sect and Shaolin Temple had enjoyed a close relationship for ages.

Both sects had more than a thousand years of history and many times had worked together against foreign threats.

They saw each other as competitors, but also as partners who must collaborate.


Suddenly, Unsong, walking in the lead, stopped with a puzzled expression on his face.

“What’s the matter?”

The first disciple behind him looked at Unsong with a puzzled expression. Instead of answering, Unsong furrowed his brow and looked ahead.

In the direction of his gaze, an elderly man was sitting on a rock.

He felt the blood in his body turn cold the moment he saw the man.

It was as if he were looking at a well-forged sword.

But not just any sword—a rare and famous sword.

Just by looking, he felt as if his whole body were being slashed.

With a half-bow, Unsong greeted,

“Amitabha! This humble monk is Unsong of the Shaolin Temple. May I inquire who you are, blocking the road in this manner?”

“Indeed, Shaolin sent you.”

“You know of this humble monk?”

“How could I not recognize the First Shaolin Master?”

“You know me, yet I don't know you. Truly unfair.”

“Ah! My appearance has changed since we last met. I am Jang Cheon-hwa.”

"You mean you are the master of the Heavenly Martial Sect yourself?"

“That's right!”

"This appearance... Could it be that you have achieved rejuvenation?"

“I was fortunate.”


Upon hearing Jang Cheon-hwa's answer, Unsong unknowingly clenched his fist.

The shock delivered by the word Rejuvenation was tremendous.

A state of reverting time and becoming young again.

A legendary realm that every martial artist yearned for, even in their dreams.

Unsong also wished for rejuvenation, but knew it was out of reach.

If someone else had said that, he wouldn't have believed it. However, Unsong believed that the person in front of him was indeed the real Jang Cheon-Hwa.

The vigor and aura emanating from him were overwhelming.

Only two men in the world could overwhelm him with such vigor.

They were Jang Cheon-hwa and Lee Cheong.

Though Unsong feared nothing in the world, and was even considered arrogant, these two men were exceptions to the rule, and he respected them.

“Amitabha! Meeting Grandmaster Jang here doesn't seem coincidental. Is that right?”

“Indeed. I have been waiting for you.”


“What do you think it might be?”

“Amitabha! A good person doesn’t scheme, and a schemer isn’t good...”

“A truth unparalleled throughout history.”

Jang Cheon-hwa smiled and rose from the rock.

Unsong and the Shaolin disciples instinctively stepped back.

The aura emanating from Jang Cheon-hwa had pushed them away.

Unsong's eyes changed.

“Amitabha! Could it be that Grandmaster Jang’s actions are related to the Wudang Sect or Dragon Mountain Manor?”

“Both are related.”

"Could it be that their clash was because of you, Grandmaster Jang?"

"You seem to possess a rather keen mind, contrary to your appearance."

A smile crossed the lips of Jang Cheon-hwa.

In contrast, Unsong's face turned pale.

A thought had come to his mind.

He had asked the question because he thought it was absurd, but he didn't expect Jang Cheon-hwa to admit it so easily.

Unsong gave an order to his disciples.

"First-rank disciples, ready your swords."


"Second-rank disciples, leave this place immediately and return to Shaolin. You must inform the Abbot. The instigator of this great upheaval is none other than Jang Cheon-hwa."


The second-rank disciples responded, leaping in all directions like locusts.

They could have stayed and fought to the death, but all the second-rank disciples chose to flee.

It was not out of cowardice, nor a desire to save their own lives.

Most importantly, they knew that it was vital to bring Jang Cheon-hwa's conspiracy to Shaolin, and that's why they decided to flee.

Even if only one person survived, they had to deliver this monumental fact to Shaolin.

Therefore, they executed their Qigong, leaving a flurry of dust in their wake.

Jang Cheon-hwa watched the second-rank disciples flee without making any move to stop them.

Even if he didn't lift a finger, not one of them would make it alive to Shaolin.

The region was already under the control of those who followed him.

Jang Cheon-hwa spoke to Unsong.

"We're short on time. Let's finish this quickly."

"It will not go as you wish, Grandmaster Jang."

"I've long wanted to see Shaolin's martial arts for myself."

"You will not be disappointed."

"I hope so."

Unsong's eyes trembled at Jang Cheon-hwa's arrogance.

Jang Cheon-hwa was an unparalleled master in the world.

Though Unsong was hailed as the top martial artist of Shaolin, he paled in comparison.

He had no confidence in defeating him in a head-on battle.

"Deploy the Eighteen Arhat Formation."


The first-rank disciples surrounded Jang Cheon-hwa, brandishing their swords and staffs.

They used one of Shaolin's most advanced techniques, the Eighteen Arhat Formation.

Shaolin had techniques to be used when an invincible opponent appeared.

Among them, the most famous was the One Hundred and Eight Arhat Formation.

One hundred and eight monks would unfold this formation, boasting absolute power.

No supreme master could break through the One Hundred and Eight Arhat Formation, or so it was known. However, it required mobilizing one hundred and eight martial monks, and it took a long time to coordinate, so deploying it was not easy. That's why the Eighteen Arhat Formation was created as a substitute.

As a one-on-one formation, the Eighteen Arhat Formation was considered the pinnacle.

Initially, the first-rank disciples should have been the core to unfold it, but Unsong swallowed his pride and chose to be the centerpiece of the Eighteen Arhat Formation.


With Jang Cheon-hwa at the center, Unsong and the martial monks began to rotate rapidly.

The faster they rotated, the more the pressure on Jang Cheon-hwa increased.

When the pressure reached its climax, a full-scale offensive would begin.

Jang Cheon-hwa drew the sword at his waist and cried out.



"Open the Formation!"

At that moment, the Eighteen Arhat Formation was deployed.


With a scream, one of the Second-rank disciples of Shaolin Temple lost his life. The ones who killed him were the martial artists of the Executioner Squad, a close organization to Jang Cheon-hwa.

The leader of the Executioner Squad was none other than Juk-hon.

They systematically hunted the fleeing disciples of the Shaolin Temple.

Attacking a monk with several men at once, there was no chance for them.

They were experts in this kind of hunting.

Although the disciples of Shaolin Temple were able to escape using Qigong or stealth techniques, they couldn't shake off the Executioner Squad.

"You Bastards!"

One of the Second rank disciples yelled, swinging his staff.


The shadow of the staff filled the air, attacking the martial artists of the Executioner Squad.

The Executioner Squad didn't confront it head-on.

The staff technique of Shaolin Temple was praised as one of the best in the Kangho.

Even though they mainly used blunt weapons without sharp edges to avoid killing, their power was by no means weak.

Being struck by the staff meant more than mere bruising or broken bones.

Knowing this, the Executioner Squad avoided a head-on confrontation, instead, driving them into a corner by hunting them down.

Like a pack of wild dogs, they relentlessly bit at the weakness and pulled at it. Eventually, the trapped disciple allowed a fatal strike.


With a cry, the disciple fell to his knees, and the Executioner Squad simultaneously thrust their weapons into him.

Thud, thud, thud!

The Second rank disciple died on the spot, and the Executioner Squad moved on to the next prey.

Most of the second-rank disciples were dead, with only two remaining.

They fled in different directions.

A group of the Executioner Squad chased the one fleeing to the left.

Four of the Executioner Squad pursued the one running to the right.

That Second rank disciple ran with all his might but was eventually caught by the Executioner Squad.


The captured disciple's name was Ji Gyeong.

Ji Gyeong fought back using his staff technique, but he quickly got wounded and cornered by the Executioner Squad's joint attack.

"Ugh, I have to tell Shaolin Temple about this somehow.......

Despair filled Ji Gyeong's face.

He didn't mind losing his life, but the thought of dying without telling Shaolin Temple made him despair.


A scream came from the monk who had fled to the left.

He was also caught, leaving only Ji Gyeong remaining.

If he died too, Shaolin Temple would never know the truth.

At that moment:


The sword of the Executioner Squad cut across Ji Gyeong's side.


Ji Gyeong collapsed to one knee, overwhelmed by the searing pain.

‘Is this the end?’

A grim light appeared on his face.



Swords and blades of the Executioner Squad flew towards Ji Gyeong to end his life.

He could not bear to look and tightly closed his eyes.


A deafening explosion made Ji Gyeong's body tremble, but oddly enough, he felt no pain.

He cautiously opened his eyes and saw an astonishing sight.

Those who attacked him, the martial artists of the Executioner Squad, were lying on the ground, their limbs twisted in grotesque directions.

“What happened?”

"Hurry to the Shaolin Temple."

An unexpected voice reached him.

Suddenly, an old man with a strange appearance appeared in front of him.

It was Wind Saint

He had intervened, unable to just watch.

“Who are you, master?”

"Is my identity important? Hurry to Shaolin and tell them that Jang Cheon-hwa is the mastermind behind all this.

“Ah! Th-thank you.”

Ji Gyeong thanked him and stood up.

He bowed once to Wind Saint and then quickly left the place.

Wind Saint watched Ji Gyeong's retreating figure and then started walking.

His destination was the battleground where Jang Cheon-hwa was fighting Unsong and others.


His steps were heavy, making him sigh involuntarily.

It was then.


A tremendous explosion erupted from where Jang Cheon-hwa and Unsong were fighting.

Wind Saint's steps quickened.

The scene he arrived at was breathtaking.

All the Shaolin monks, except for Jang Cheon-hwa, were lying lifeless and bloody. Among them was Unsong, the First Shaolin Master.

Unsong had died, his eyes wide open.

His face, twisted in terror and astonishment, spoke of the great shock he had endured before dying.

The other elite disciples were the same.

Their faces, even in death, were filled with terror.

Although they had used all their strength to unleash the Eighteen Arhats Formation, they were crushed by fear when they failed to defeat Jang Cheon-hwa.

Even after breaking through the Eighteen Arhat Formation and killing Unsong and all the elite disciples, Jang Cheon-hwa's body was unscathed.

Jang Cheon-hwa's martial artistry had reached a divine level.

Wind Saint cautiously spoke.


“Your body smells of blood. Who have you killed?”


“Don't tell me you killed members of the Executioner Squad?”

“I'm sorry.”

“You continue to disappoint me.”

“I'm sorry. But I had no choice.”


Jang Cheon-hwa's gaze towards Wind Saint grew cold.

Post a Comment

Previous Post Next Post

Number 2

Number 3