The Shadow of the Discipline Chief and the Serpent’s Secret

Hyeon-geon, the Chief of the Discipline Hall, was famous for his cold severity, not just within Shaolin, but throughout the entire Jianghu.

Although I had never seen Hyeon-geon in person, I had heard countless stories about how even the most fearlessly brave Shaolin martial monks—men who had defeated a myriad of wicked villains—would turn into helpless mice before a cat whenever they stood in his presence.

He was the martial nephew of the Abbot, the core figure of the Hyeon-generation, and a man openly discussed as the next Abbot. If a disciple chose to leave Shaolin, Hyeon-geon was the kind of man who would ruthlessly shatter their dantian (the energy center below the navel) to ensure that none of Shaolin’s martial arts could ever leak into the outside world.

The Abbot was relatively moderate and tried to restrain him, but backed by the powerful support of the Hyeon-generation who would lead the next era of Shaolin, Hyeon-geon already wielded immense authority.

‘Perhaps I need to be more careful of Hyeon-geon than of Gamo in Sichuan.’

The reason I remembered Hyeon-geon so vividly was due to a clash I had with him in my past life. I had never looked upon his face directly, but I had nearly been dragged away and beaten to within an inch of my life by him.

It was rare for Shaolin’s Discipline Chief to venture into the Jianghu, so I had followed his entourage hoping to see if I could scrounge up anything valuable. If Hyeon-geon’s young disciple hadn’t helped me back then, I would have been completely trapped and subjected to a brutal flogging.

I had been suspected of being a thief, but even now, I doubted whether anything had actually been stolen in the first place.

Being beaten was no trivial matter. If they laid on the cane with grim intent, one could easily be crippled, or die from the jangdok (toxins from severe bruising) spreading through the body.

‘Come to think of it, he truly saved my life, yet I still don’t even know that disciple’s name.’

Since he was Hyeon-geon’s disciple, he would belong to the Gwang-generation.

When I first saw him, I had been so utterly shocked by his breathtakingly elegant features that I briefly forgot the peril of my own situation. I genuinely felt it was a beauty that could never exist twice in the mortal realm.

I remembered staring at him obsessively, and our eyes—his a light, soft brown—might have locked for a fleeting second. Never before, and never since, had my heart physically ached just from looking at a man’s handsome face.

His fine, silk-like hair fell long enough to drape over his shoulders, making me wonder at first if he was a secular disciple. How a Shaolin monk, and Hyeon-geon’s direct disciple at that, was permitted to grow out his hair remained a long-standing mystery to me.

Regardless, it was only much later that I learned a terrifying truth: once Hyeon-geon resolved to punish someone, not even the Abbot of Shaolin could bend his iron will.

When I reported the day’s events to my master, the Chief of the Haorim Sect, he had worn an amused expression as he spoke.

He remarked that the fearsome Hyeon-geon, who feared not even the Abbot, would never have forgiven me without a reason, and that the disciple who made him rescind his decree in front of others must have suffered terribly for it.

Because my master had spoken with a casual laugh, I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But long afterward, the news finally reached me: the disciple had taken three times the number of strikes originally meant for me.

If he had used his internal energy to protect his body, he might have endured it. But because it was an official punishment, the use of internal energy was strictly forbidden. His flesh had been torn to shreds and his bones battered so severely that he had to recuperate for over two months.

I had always wanted to convey at least a word of gratitude and apology to him, but in my past life, I was not a being who dared to approach someone of his stature. I could only carry it as a heavy debt upon my heart.

‘How on earth could I have completely forgotten about that? Especially after coming all the way to Shaolin. Why didn’t I think to look for him?’

For a brief moment, I even forgot about the Dokgak-hwamang (the One-Horned Flower Python), Gamo’s schemes, and my terrifying condition of turning into a snake, allowing myself to harbor a small, fragile wish. Perhaps, just perhaps, I might run into Hyeon-geon’s disciple once again.

“Since you’ve found out anyway, let us start working on a countermeasure, Sorin.”

Great Master Won-hyeon spoke to me as I sat across from him.

“Since things have turned out this way, I shall explain everything in detail. Knowing the truth will help you prepare. In fact, I had already been debating whether I ought to tell you.”

“Yes, Great Master.”

Hearing his voice snapped me back to reality. Now was not the time to indulge in idle daydreams.

“Every time you lose consciousness, you transform into a snake. You are still a small serpent for now. And you have a horn upon your head.”

He was speaking about me, yet it felt entirely surreal.

“You possess an aggressive streak, which makes it dangerous at times. We have to exert ourselves heavily every single time just to keep you from slithering outside. Even so, we lost track of you once. This room was altered like this entirely because of you.”

Now that he mentioned it, the gaps in the crudely built room that used to exist had now been thoroughly sealed shut.

“It seems you have absolutely no memory of it. You managed to slip out through every conceivable nook and cranny. In all my years living, I do not think I have ever exerted my movement techniques as fiercely as I did when I lost sight of you.”

He let out a heavy sigh, as if his heart was still plunging into his stomach just from the memory.

“Why is that, Great Master?”

I had an inkling of the answer, but I wanted to hear it directly for once.

“Even if you were discovered, the Abbot and I are the only ones who would look upon you with leniency.”

He spoke with absolute certainty, leaving no room for doubt. I wondered if I had asked too carelessly without realizing what kind of answer I would provoke. Hearing his words only amplified my dread.

“If I am caught by the Discipline Chief… what will happen to me?”

“You will die. There is no question about it.”

“Why? You said I am the Dokgak-hwamang. Wouldn’t that make me useful? People covet spiritual beasts, Great Master. Wouldn’t martial artists be desperate to claim me for themselves?”

At my naive question, he looked at me with an expression fraught with sorrow.

“There are some things in this world whose utter non-existence is far more convenient. The Discipline Chief will view the Dokgak-hwamang in exactly that light. If the Dokgak-hwamang were to fall into the hands of a rival sect or martial clan, causing their combat prowess to grow exponentially, the resulting catastrophe for Shaolin would be unimaginable.”

Possessing deadly venom, I would undoubtedly be of absolute utility to a clan or sect that specialized in poison arts. One could easily deduce how terrifyingly potent the poisons of the Sichuan Tang Clan could become if they extracted venom from me. However, Shaolin had no use for poison arts. In their eyes, it was far more profitable to completely eradicate a potential threat in its infancy.

“Then… wouldn’t it be better for me to just return to my family clan?”

At that, he slowly shook his head.

He seemed to pity me far more now than he had moments ago.

“It breaks my heart to have to tell you these things. But I feel I must. Sorin, you are a truly precious child. I pray you do not deem yourself worthless after hearing this.”

His heavy preamble only heightened my terror, making me dread whatever words were about to leave his mouth.

“Gamo… does not wish to leave you alive.”

That much, I already understood.

“And the Clan Leader… if he ever witnesses you transforming into the Dokgak-hwamang, he will inevitably learn the secret of your birth. That you are not of the Clan Leader’s bloodline, but rather the offspring of the Dokgak-hwamang…”

He could not bring himself to finish the sentence.

But it was fine.

That was more than enough.

Gamo’s wrathful desire to kill me was dangerous, but if the Clan Leader discovered the truth about me, the cataclysm that would follow would make Gamo’s schemes look like child’s play.

“Will my brother… hate me as well?”

“I believe he will. That is my estimation. However, the Clan Leader and the high-ranking elders of the Tang Clan will likely hold different positions. To the Clan Leader, the matter of whether you are his biological flesh and blood is paramount. But to the clan’s leadership, what matters most is how much you can contribute to the Tang Clan’s military might. You will eventually possess a body of ten-thousand-poison immunity (Mandok-bulchim). In fact, you might already possess it. Furthermore, you have a hide that cannot be easily cut by any blade.”

“Even when I am in human form?”

Suddenly, a memory flashed through my mind, causing me to gasp.

On the day I had bathed with the Clan Leader, when he later visited my chambers, the maidservant’s pores had bled profusely just from the toxic residue lingering on his robes. Yet, I had been completely unaffected. I vividly recalled how startled the Clan Leader had looked upon witnessing that.

‘So that’s why he reacted that way back then…’

“It seems something has come to mind. Let me finish my answer. If the high-ranking elders learn of your unique constitution, some among them will undoubtedly plot to raise you as the next Clan Leader. That would inevitably provoke the Grand Young Master of the clan. Those who engage in fratricidal bloodbaths do not always start out as enemies.”

Would Murin turn on me as well? Would it be unavoidable?

A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me, draining the strength from my limbs. The agonizing realization that I might never again see Murin’s eyes crinkle with warmth as he doted on me cut deep.

I hadn’t realized that the thought of losing him would pierce my heart so acutely. When had he managed to become so deeply rooted within me?

“You will be safe as long as you remain here. Even if you transform into a snake, so long as you are not caught by the Discipline Chief, you will be safe. Trust me. I shall guard you with my life to ensure you are never discovered by him. No matter what happens, I will protect you, so do not worry yourself too heavily, Sorin.”

“Great Master, then why don’t we just—”

I was on the verge of asking, ‘What if I just abandon both the Shaolin Temple and the Sichuan Tang Clan and run away entirely?’

But then, the stark reality that the body I currently occupied was a mere eight years old caught up to me. I clamped my mouth shut.

“Do not fret overmuch. I have already investigated the matter. It seems you cannot escape unless there is an opening, so you will be perfectly safe for as long as you reside within this quarters.”

I sat there in a daze for a long while before finally whispering my gratitude to him.

If it weren’t for him, what would have become of me? If he had harbored insidious designs, what then?

In truth, the Discipline Chief’s logic was far more natural in this brutal world. Rather than hiding and raising a creature that could exponentially increase the power of the Sichuan Tang Clan, it was far more logical for Shaolin to nip that threat in the bud while it was still young.