The Journey Seeking the Truth (2)
“How are you feeling?”
“……”
“It seems you’re still quite confused.”
“……”
Hwa-un remained silent.
After all, she stood before the very person who had laid bare her own wretchedness, her heart still in turmoil. It was only natural that her lips refused to part easily.
Beom-oh studied her complexion for a moment, then gently offered her a teacup.
“This tea is brewed from medicinal herbs gathered on Mount Song. I cannot call it delicious even in flattery, yet nothing calms the mind quite like it.”
Among the items Shaolin monks always carried on their journeys through the Jianghu were these very herb leaves. They held no extraordinary power, but sipping the tea from time to time served as a reminder not to forget the teachings of Shaolin through its subtle fragrance.
Hwa-un stared down at the cup with lifeless eyes before carefully lifting it to her lips and taking a small sip.
Beom-oh smiled softly.
“How is it?”
“Bitter.”
“Haha, of course. The practice of drying these leaves for tea is relatively new. Originally, the herb was used to maintain an appropriate balance of yang energy.”
“……”
Hwa-un gazed silently into the tea. Despite its bitter taste, the liquid was remarkably clear and transparent.
Reflected on that limpid surface was the face of a middle-aged woman—exhausted, confused, and utterly drained.
Beom-oh continued.
“You are still deeply troubled, are you not?”
“……”
“My own circumstances differed from yours, yet until recently I had strayed far—not only from the path of the Buddha, but even from the path of a proper human being. Setting it right was no simple matter.”
Hwa-un raised her head and looked at him.
On Beom-oh’s face as he candidly admitted his own deviation from the path, not the slightest trace of confusion could be found.
He gave a small nod.
“To become a better version of yourself, you must first acknowledge the flawed person you are now. Whether one studies the Buddhist teachings or not, all progress begins there.”
Hwa-un smiled. It was difficult to tell whether the expression was self-mocking or directed at him.
“I must look quite pathetic.”
“Indeed.”
Beom-oh’s reply was unexpectedly sharp.
“You have committed a grave wrong, Lady Hwa. For one who bears the title of practitioner, the sin is even greater. You recognize this yourself, do you not?”
When he spoke with such frankness, she found herself without words.
Beom-oh shook his head.
“The act of erring is not itself shameful. We are human. Such things happen. The true problem arises when one clearly realizes the error yet turns away from it. To deceive oneself—that is something one should unquestionably feel ashamed of.”
“……”
“Feel that shame deeply. But do not let it destroy you.”
Hwa-un wanted to sigh. She wanted to sigh until the earth itself sank beneath her feet.
Yet with a Shaolin monk watching, she could not even release a single breath of frustration.
At that moment, she realized something else.
Just how deeply she had always feared Shaolin. No—it was not only her. To every monk of the Central Plains’ Buddhist orders, the name Shaolin carried an almost insurmountable weight.
Perhaps sensing this, Beom-oh continued in a calm, even tone.
“Does my origin in Shaolin make this difficult for you?”
“……”
“If I had not been a disciple of Shaolin, would you—Lady Hwa, who at that time was drowning in anguish—have continued to turn from the truth and resist until the very end, even beneath the power of the Lion’s Roar?”
“That……”
“No. You would not have.”
Beom-oh smiled gently.
“Then why do you watch me with such caution? Whether I come from Shaolin or not, what matters is you yourself, Lady Hwa. Pay no heed to empty formalities. Look inward first.”
“But……”
“Shaolin is simply a gathering of monks. The blood and sacrifice of our predecessors built what it is today, yet they would never have wished for it to wield privilege and power unchecked.”
“……”
“Do not run. Do not seek to avoid this truth with countless excuses.”
A low resonance stirred the air as Beom-oh’s pupils shimmered with a faint, ethereal golden light.
“Return to the path, Lady Hwa.”
In the end, Hwa-un could only release a sigh deeper than any she had drawn before.
“It seems I am not there yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“I acknowledge my sins. I acknowledge them… yet part of me still does not wish to.”
“Is that so?”
“I keep wanting to flee. Truthfully, I wish to cast aside the name of Botam and disappear into some distant world.”
Beom-oh’s smile deepened with quiet understanding.
“I see.”
For the first time, Hwa-un had spoken her true heart.
To abandon Botam’s name and run? Any ordinary person might feel the same. It was an attitude far too lacking for one called an Awakened One, yet the simple fact that she could admit it aloud told Beom-oh she had already taken a significant step forward.
Hwa-un drew in a deep breath.
“For now… I will not force myself. I simply wish to be alone.”
Beom-oh rose from his seat.
“Whatever the outcome, now that you have clearly acknowledged your past wrongs, you will be able to walk a path far brighter than before.”
“…Thank you.”
“May you find peace.”
Beom-oh offered a half-palm salute, then turned to leave the room.
“Monk Beom-oh,” Hwa-un called after him.
“Speak freely.”
“Where is Jeong-an?”
“Hm?”
A rare look of surprise crossed Beom-oh’s face.
“Has Lady Jeong not visited you?”
“Pardon?”
“She left briefly with Young Master Yeon.”
Bewilderment washed over Hwa-un’s features.
“Left? Where exactly…?”
“They intend to visit the two most powerful forces currently active in the Central Plains Murim.”
“……?!”
“Commander.”
“You’re here.”
Jin-pae bowed his head.
“I was informed that one shichen ago, the Young Master departed with Inspector Kang and the descendant of Botam.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
He had once been told that the Young Master might leave without warning and had been asked to look after the Uijeong Army in his absence.
Still, he had not expected him to depart without so much as a word of farewell.
Truly like you.
Moyong Woo gave a faint, wry smile.
“Until the Young Master returns, or until orders arrive from above, we will remain here on standby.”
“Understood.”
“The Beggars’ Sect will send word. Our mission is not merely to wait. Until the righteous Murim of Guangdong Province regains its footing and the hearts of the people are steadied, we must stand ready to march at any moment.”
Jin-pae’s eyes gleamed.
“Then……”
“Exactly.”
Moyong Woo tapped his scabbard lightly.
“We must grow stronger. Until Guangdong recovers, opportunists will swarm to fill the power vacuum. Among them, there will undoubtedly be experts we cannot ignore.”
“Indeed.”
“We must train thoroughly. By the time we meet the Young Master again, the Uijeong Army must be at least twice as strong as it is now.”
Contrary to his usual solemn nature, Jin-pae offered a playful grin.
“Our leader is simply too outstanding. It seems only his subordinates suffer trying to keep up.”
“So it would seem.”
“And that statement does not apply solely to the Young Master.”
“Hm?”
“Your own aura, Commander, has changed from before. It feels deeper. Softer, somehow.”
Jin-pae understood. Mere increase in sharpness or raw power did not constitute true growth.
The advancement of a genuine expert tended toward abundance rather than brute strength, and toward softness rather than edge. It was the orthodox path of mastery. In an era when bizarre and irregular training methods ran rampant, Moyong Woo was one of the few achieving classical, proper growth.
Moyong Woo smiled bitterly.
“I am still confused myself. I trust my training, yet the deeper one delves into martial arts, the more complex it becomes.”
“We would at least like to experience that complexity for ourselves.”
“You are all performing admirably. These are not empty words.”
“We know. We simply intend to do our utmost so that one day we may stand in the same realm as you, Commander.”
“Haha! You must.”
The five captains of the Tangma Army were each a step below the strongest warriors of the Myeolsa Army, excluding Muk Bi. If they reached a level comparable to Moyong Woo’s current realm, and if the Myeolsa Army—spurred by their growth—followed suit, then the Uijeong Army might one day become the strongest force in the entire Murim, surpassing even the Martial Alliance itself.
“Rest is as vital as training. End today’s session and tell the men to recover fully until tomorrow.”
“We’re resting the moment the Young Master is gone?”
“Enough of your nonsense. Just deliver the message.”
“Hahaha! As you command.”
With that, Jin-pae left Moyong Woo’s quarters.
Alone now, Moyong Woo quietly gazed up at the sky. Beyond the clear blue expanse, he could almost see Yeon Hojeong’s confident face.
You are a genius this world will rarely see again. Gifted with both unparalleled talent and a heart full of chivalry, you will become a great pillar of the Murim.
Moyong Woo did not doubt it. He believed Yeon Hojeong would become not merely the strongest of the next generation, but a giant capable of reshaping the very landscape of the Jianghu.
That was precisely why he worried.
Your sense of justice is driving you relentlessly through this chaotic world. But such solitary actions must end with this. The Uijeong Army is not an organization for you to protect alone—it is one that fights at your side.
When they met again, he would be sure to tell him exactly that.
After staring at the sky for a long while, Moyong Woo suddenly smiled, drew his sword, and spoke softly.
“Even if I cannot surpass my sworn brother, I refuse to fall behind him.”
His blade swept forward with majestic force, vast and profound as though it sought to embrace the very heavens and earth.
Step.
The crunch of broken soil beneath his feet made it unmistakably clear they had left Guangdong Province behind.
Atop a high ridge overlooking the world, Yeon Hojeong’s gaze had grown clearer and deeper than ever.
“Well?”
At his question, Jeong-an tilted her head in confusion.
“Pardon? What do you mean?”
“Hm. It seems it hasn’t reached you yet.”
The remark made little sense to her.
Yeon Hojeong turned instead to Kang Liang.
“What do you sense?”
“When you ask so abruptly with no context, anyone would be confused. I have no idea what exactly you’re asking me to feel.”
“Is that right?”
“Obviously. That said……”
Kang Liang’s eyes as he looked out over the vast lands of Hunan were sharper than Jeong-an’s—and even sharper than Yeon Hojeong’s.
“The air feels a little heavy.”
“Heavy……”
“Yes. There’s considerable tension in the atmosphere. It feels like anything could happen at any moment.”
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
“So your senses aren’t entirely worthless after all.”
“I’ll take that as praise.”
Jeong-an tilted her head again.
“Tension?”
She felt none of it. To her, the air here simply felt different from Guangdong—muggy yet somehow comfortable and expansive. She found it rather pleasant.
It was unavoidable. Jeong-an had little experience with brutal, blood-soaked battlefields. No matter how high one’s cultivation, the ability to read killing intent could not surpass that of someone tempered by real combat.
“Yes, tension. And here, so close to the Black Dragon Department, where do you suppose that tension originates?”
“……!”
Yeon Hojeong’s eyes flashed a vivid, piercing blue.
“It seems I’ll need to send the Black Dragon Department Head an invitation.”