Genius Martial Arts Trainer

Chapter 3: It wasn’t a dream?

‘Phew. This, too, must be a trial from Buddha. If I stay like this, I might fall into delusion.’

When the patience of the monk, who had been cultivating himself for thirty-five years, was nearing its limit, fortunately, the sound of a bell signaling the end of the early morning training echoed throughout the Shaolin Temple.

“Since mealtime is approaching, we will end today’s early morning training here!”

“Yes!!”

“Understood, Master Uncle!!”

Leaving behind the replies of the other novice monks, Hye-jeong glanced at Mu-jin briefly before swiftly turning away.

‘In seven days and nights, he will be punished.’

However, whether Hye-jeong thought such things or not, Mu-jin had already lost interest in Hye-jeong.

“Oof. My muscles are really sore.”

Originally, with his previous body, he would have needed to repeat far heavier weights for many more sets to feel this kind of muscle pain and tautness.

Perhaps because it was a child’s body not yet used to exercise, the effects were showing immediately.

Mu-jin, who was feeling a peculiar pleasure from the rewarding sensation of muscle soreness, was a genuine gym enthusiast who thought about muscle growth even in his dreams.

“It would have been better if this wasn’t a dream.”

As Mu-jin muttered to himself, he noticed something strange.

“But if this is a dream, why does it hurt?”

It was only after finishing his workout that Mu-jin began to feel that something was off.

The argument with the middle-aged senior monk and the focus on exercise and muscles had prevented him from thinking deeply about the problem.

‘No way… Could it be that I’ve really entered a novel?’

The thought was absurd, but on the other hand, considering his current physical condition, it was entirely possible.

Especially when he recalled the conversations he’d had until now, it seemed even more so.

Without thinking much, he had been conversing, but upon reflection, he realized he hadn’t been speaking in Korean.

He had assumed it was a dream, but when he considered it wasn’t, it became a very peculiar matter.

While Mu-jin was deep in confusion,

“Mu-jin… What kind of weird muttering have you been doing since earlier? Are you really out of your mind?”

The novice monk Mu-yul, who had woken him up earlier in the morning, once again woke him up to reality.

He wore a look that seemed to say, ‘Is it possible to ask if you’re crazy with such an innocent face?’

“Your name was Mu-yul… right?”

“Now you’ve even forgotten my name? Are you really sick, Mu-jin?”

“No. Never mind that. Could you hit me just once here?”

“……”

Mu-jin said this to confirm whether it was a dream or not, but Mu-yul just looked at him with a truly pitiful expression.

“If you’re not going to hit me, forget it.”

Mu-jin looked away from that expression, and slapped his own cheek with his hand.

As Mu-yul, who had been watching this scene with a downcast look, muttered.

“Hmph. Mom told me not to hang out with crazy people.”

“…I’m not crazy, okay?”

Mu-jin responded, rubbing his cheek that was starting to sting.

‘Damn it. Is this really not a dream?’

Even without the need to slap his cheek, the muscle soreness he felt all over his body was evidence enough. He only attempted a mental rebellion because he found it hard to accept this reality.

“Oh, right! Mu-jin, we have to go eat now!”

The novice monk who had been watching Mu-jin with a worried expression suddenly exclaimed as if he had just remembered.

Even though he treated Mu-jin like a crazy person, he still took care of him, leaving Mu-jin uncertain whether this child was kind or strange.

“Sigh. Yes, we need to eat.”

If this wasn’t a dream, he needed to eat even more.

Having exhausted his muscles for one si-jin (two hours) since dawn, he needed to replenish nutrients. As the famous saying goes, eating is part of the exercise.

However, since he was deeply preoccupied with whether this was a dream or reality, he only noticed a crucial fact too late.

This place was Shaolin Temple. That is, a temple.

* * *

The novice monk taking care of Mu-jin. Shaolin Temple’s dining hall, following Mu-yul. Inside the meal room.

‘Is something wrong with my eyes?’

Why?

All he could see on the table was green or yellow. The yellow was hulled barley rice, and the green was vegetables.

That’s right. The diet offered at Shaolin Temple. It was, of course, a temple diet, and a temple diet meant vegetarianism.

Sure, what’s so wrong about eating temple food at a temple?

But, from Choi Kang-hyuk’s perspective, this was extremely wrong.

He had woken up at dawn and tortured his muscles for one si-jin. And the other kids, who had exercised inefficiently compared to him, were also physically exhausted.

And now, they’re supposed to eat this kind of food, which doesn’t have a single gram of protein?

“This is child abuse, by any measure!!”

“Hey!! Who dares to shout during a meal!!”

As soon as Mu-jin shouted, everyone in the dining hall, novices and monks alike, turned their heads towards him.

Of course, Mu-jin wasn’t someone who would get intimidated or fail to say what he needed to say just because people were looking at him.

“After doing such intense exercise in the morning, isn’t it too much to ask us to endure with just these vegetables and barley rice?!”

When Mu-jin yelled, unable to contain his anger, a cold silence enveloped the area.

Those who had been with him during the morning training looked at him with expressions that said, ‘It’s him again?’ while others glanced at him with expressions saying, ‘What’s up with this crazy guy?’

As the second and first-generation disciples who were preparing the meal stood up, ready to admonish him, the silence was broken first by Hyun-mun, the manager of the meal room, with a hearty laugh.

“Ha ha ha. It seems our disciple was very hungry after the morning exercise.”

Hyun-mun, who was already over sixty and a head of one of the groups in Shaolin Temple, merely thought of the novice monk’s actions as youthful whining.

No matter how strict the Shaolin Temple’s laws were, it would be ridiculous for an elder like him to scold and grapple with a young novice monk.

“I, too, went through a time like yours, so how could I not understand your feelings? Alright, if you want to eat more, I’ll make sure you have more. But shouting like this is against the rules. Do you understand?”

Hyun-mun intended to let it pass with gentle advice, but that was only if it weren’t for Mu-jin’s next words.

“The rice is sufficient.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Protein supplement. No, isn’t there any chicken breast?”

“…”

What was this? Was he crazy?

Not only had Hyun-mun never heard of protein supplements, but what was this talk of chicken breast in a temple?

Luckily for Hyun-mun, there was a child who expressed his feelings for him.

“Mu-jin, what’s wrong with you since this morning? Have you really gone crazy?”

Mu-yul, who was sitting next to Mu-jin, asked him that.

While Mu-jin, who had been spouting nonsense, stared blankly at Mu-yul, who was tugging at his sleeve.

To be precise, he was staring at himself reflected in Mu-yul’s clear, innocent eyes.

A small frame, at the age when puberty was just starting, with a freshly shaven head. And the yellow and orange monk robe reminiscent of those seen in old martial arts movies.

The perfect image of a Shaolin novice monk was reflected in Mu-yul’s eyes.

‘Sigh. Yeah, this is Shaolin Temple.’

Only now fully accepting that this situation wasn’t a dream, Mu-jin decided to apologize to Hyun-mun.

“…I apologize. I was so hungry that I spoke nonsense.”

Eating only vegetables in Shaolin Temple would be, at least from their perspective, a given. However, Hyun-mun’s suspicion only grew stronger due to Mu-jin’s sudden apology.

‘…There’s no doubt he’s crazy.’

A mad novice monk entering Shaolin Temple? Hyun-mun’s heart was heavy with worry about Shaolin’s future.

As Hyun-mun was worrying about the future of Shaolin, Mu-jin spoke again to Hyun-mun.

“Excuse me, then, if there’s no chicken breast, do you have beans or mushrooms?”

He was sorry, but he needed protein.

* * *

After a turbulent breakfast, the first task of the morning was studying Buddhist scriptures.

It was a fitting routine for the Shaolin Temple, but…

‘Whose idea was this ridiculous schedule?’

From Mu-jin’s perspective, it was not ideal.

Getting up at dawn for intense exercise, followed by studying immediately after breakfast—it was closer to a battle against sleep than actual study.

Thwack!

“Hey.”

Whenever the novice monks dozed off, the second-class disciples, who were always on standby, would wake them by tapping their shoulders with bamboo sticks.

However, despite entertaining such complaints, Mu-jin had never been hit with a bamboo stick even once. It wasn’t because he fell asleep unnoticed.

Conversely, he wasn’t diligently listening to the scripture class either. Had he been listening to such a tedious class, he would have dozed off right away.

The reason he hadn’t fallen asleep so far was…

‘Alright, assuming I’ve entered the novel somehow, what should I do now?’

It was because he was organizing what he needed to do from now on in his mind.

Why had he entered the novel? Why had such an extraordinary thing happened to him?

Now that the event had occurred, those questions were unimportant. Before worrying about such things, it was more important to understand and respond to the current situation, something Mu-jin understood very well.

‘Hmm… if I’ve entered the novel, wouldn’t I have to conclude the story to get out?’

It wasn’t certain, but that seemed the most likely. From that perspective, the current situation wasn’t entirely bleak.

The body of this novice monk, Mu-jin, was the protagonist of the novel, so the body was likely endowed with exceptional talent.

Moreover, the current location was the Shaolin Temple, which appeared in most martial arts novels as the pinnacle of the martial world.

If he mastered the protagonist’s talents and the unparalleled martial arts of the Shaolin Temple, returning to the original world wouldn’t be impossible.

However, there was a problem.

‘Have I gotten myself into trouble?’

Only then did Mu-jin realize that he had caused an enormous incident at dawn.

However.

‘Well, nothing can be done about it.’

Did he regret what he had done at dawn? Not at all.

For someone who had experienced his body breaking down before, the Shaolin Temple’s exercise methods were something he could never accept.

Given this, there was only one choice left.

At the promised duel in a week, his only option was to knock down his opponent and get his training method acknowledged.

It was the perfect solution that fit Mu-jin’s character.

* * *

At the time when Mu-jin was half-heartedly listening to the Buddhist scriptures while analyzing the current situation,

Hyun-mun, the person in charge of the Ban-dang, and Hye-jeong, who was responsible for the basic training of the novice monks who joined Shaolin this year, were discussing Mu-jin.

“What on earth is with that child?”

“By that child… do you mean Mu-jin, Master Uncle Hyun-mun?”

“Yes, I mean that child, Mu-jin.”

“Could it be that Mu-jin caused some trouble even during mealtime?”

“‘Even during mealtime,’ you say? Does that mean he caused trouble during the morning training as well?”

“Well….”

Hye-jeong cautiously conveyed to Master Uncle Hyun-mun what had happened during the morning training.

“Huh. Hahaha. Hahahahaha.”

After hearing everything, Hyun-mun laughed awkwardly.

Though he had sensed it when Mu-jin asked for chicken breast, hearing that he denied the millennium-old training methods of Shaolin after joining the temple was beyond belief.

‘To think he was really a crazy kid.’

The suspicion had turned into certainty.

“So, did you decide to just leave the child alone?”

“I told him to prove his words by sparring with Mu-gung after giving him seven days and nights.”

“As expected of you, Hye-jeong. That’s a very wise solution.”

Hyun-mun nodded in satisfaction at Hye-jeong’s words.

As a disciple of Buddha, it wouldn’t do to persecute someone just because they seemed crazy. However, since the child dared to deny the millennium-old Shaolin, he must prove his words. Given that they provided seven days and nights as respite for the proof, it could be considered a mercy of Buddha.

Moreover, Hyun-mun was even more pleased with the fact that the child selected as the sparring opponent was Mu-gung.

‘He was said to be the most outstanding among the newcomers this year.’

Whenever it’s time for Shaolin to select new third-class disciples, dozens to hundreds of children join every year.

Among the novice monks, some couldn’t endure the harsh training of Shaolin and dropped out, while others learned just a few basic martial arts before leaving as secular disciples.

In the end, only one or two out of ten novice monks became genuine disciples. Therefore, the number of novice monks who were known by first-class disciples or elders was few.

Mu-gung was one of those few children.