Chapter 18
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: The Departed Must Return 1
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“While we don’t know the exact location, it’s known that he resides on Yaksha Peak, the northeastern summit of Song Mountain. Once a year, the Shaolin disciples set up an altar at the base of Yaksha Peak, offer tributes, and perform a Buddhist rite praying for Senior Brother Hyeonjin’s well-being.”
“Heh heh… Now they’re treating me like a full-fledged Buddha. That damned monk….”
“This junior doesn’t approve of such things either, and I doubt Senior Brother Hyeonjin desires it himself, but in any case, that’s how the Shaolin disciples honor him these days. The offerings aren’t much—just enough rice, beans, and salt to last a year—so Senior Brother Hyeonjin quietly accepts them.”
“Accepts them? Then it must be true that Baldy resides on that Yaksha Peak.”
“That’s how it seems.”
“Understood. I’ll head there first thing tomorrow morning at dawn.”
“If you’re set on going, I must accompany you.”
“Why you?”
“He’s still my senior brother. Dead or alive, I should at least see his face, shouldn’t I? Over the past few decades, I’ve climbed up there now and then to search, but he’s never once shown himself. If you go, senior brother, he won’t be able to hide his face, so I should tag along and pay my respects too, no?”
Seonwoyong gazed silently at Baek Musang’s calm face as he spoke those words.
“If you insist, then so be it. But mark my words: you are absolutely not to interfere in the matter between us two. Do you understand?”
“Of course. Though I drank the waters of Shaolin, my bond with you, senior brother, is no less important. Barring any major incident, I’ll just offer greetings and watch.”
“I just hope my junior doesn’t meddle and spoil the mood between us. If things go well with Baldy, that’s one thing, but if not, it won’t be a simple joyful reunion.”
“Worry not. I won’t pry into your intentions for climbing Yaksha Peak, but I’ll respect them fully.”
With that, the long drinking session came to an end.
To Seonwoyong’s surprise, Baek Musang removed the string of 108 prayer beads from his neck and began chanting.
Seonwoyong silently left the quarters and started pacing around the courtyard.
* * *
The next morning, Seonwoyong and Baek Musang had a simple breakfast, slung small packs on their backs, and set off toward Song Mountain.
They first ascended briefly toward Lesser Room Peak, home to Shaolin Temple, then veered northeast onto a mountain path just before reaching the temple gates.
A rugged trail stretched before them.
It was the height of summer, with trees and grasses lush and verdant, blanketing Song Mountain in dense greenery.
Without hesitation, the two unleashed their lightness skills and swiftly climbed the treacherous path.
After about two hours, they reached the foothills of their destination, Yaksha Peak.
At the entrance to Yaksha Peak, they found a small clearing where an altar stood, crafted from neatly cut granite common to Song Mountain. Wax drippings and incense ash remained on it.
“So this is the place. Where they hold that rite or whatever.”
“Yes. This junior came here about ten years ago.”
“Heh heh… Truly treated like a living Buddha.”
The two rested briefly, cooling their sweat in the breeze blowing up from the valley below.
Yaksha Peak was no small summit by any measure.
Its slopes were sheer, its scale rivaling Lesser Room Peak, and deep, winding valleys branched off in all directions.
Calling it merely Yaksha Peak, they now faced a full-scale mountain search.
“Let’s head to the summit first. We can survey the entire mountain from there and decide our approach.”
“Wise words. Climbing higher than this is forbidden even to Shaolin disciples.”
The two soon leaped into the trackless forest. Moments later, they bounded from rock to rock midway up the slopes.
Two hours after that, they set foot on Yaksha Peak’s summit.
The morning sun blazed fiercely, and the peak offered no shade whatsoever.
Only large and small boulders stood, baking under the heat.
Upon reaching the top, the two scanned all four directions of Yaksha Peak, estimating likely spots for human habitation.
They also gauged Smiling Buddha’s whereabouts by seeking terrain passable for people.
“Let’s descend into that valley over there. It’s deep and broad—seems most livable. No matter how enlightened a living Buddha, a mountain dweller can’t survive without water.”
“As you say.”
The two descended the mountain and began scouring the valley.
Seonwoyong had already fully opened his senses to detect any human presence in the mountains, but still sensed nothing.
The valley was deep and long, and in wandering it, the sun had already reached its zenith.
“Senior brother, aren’t you hungry? The water’s clear and cool here—let’s eat and move on.”
“So be it.”
The two found a fine spot by the stream, unpacked, and unwrapped rice balls bundled in bamboo leaves.
The rice balls were stuffed with pork stir-fried in bean paste, making them delicious.
“If we don’t find any trace by dusk, what then? Head back down?”
“No need. We brought provisions—plenty enough to camp somewhere suitable overnight.”
“Understood. Then this afternoon, while searching, we should scout a good spot for the night.”
Having finished lunch, the two combed every corner of Yaksha Peak that afternoon but found no sign of Smiling Buddha.
They did locate a deep rock overhang—not a full cave, but sufficient—and decided to spend the night there.
Even in midsummer, nights deep in the mountains were dark and chilly, so upon reaching the overhang’s depths, they naturally built a fire first.
The sun set swiftly in the mountains, plunging the entire peak into darkness in moments.
“Listen to this.”
Baek Musang pulled a gourd flask from his pack and handed it to Seonwoyong.
Unstoppering it released a rich aroma—fine liquor.
“You brought booze? Heh heh….”
“If you’re overnighting in the mountains, what’s the first thing to prepare but alcohol? This is top-notch—take a sip first, then pass it quick. The booze bugs in my gut are already smelling it and going wild.”
Seonwoyong took a swig and passed it back. Baek Musang brightened and slowly brought the gourd to his lips.
Only then did the two start pulling out various snacks from their packs, using them as accompaniments while draining the flask.
A campfire flickered before them, and the nearby stream murmured leisurely.
“Senior brother, sitting like this reminds me of those nights wandering the deep mountains of the Taihang Range long ago.”
“Does it? I was just thinking of that time myself.”
Recalling old memories, the two began chatting idly.
“Senior brother, whatever became of that Do Ilgi senior brother, the one who wielded that single iron spear like a ghost?”
“Oh, you mean Do Ilgi, the Iron Spear Demon God, our cult’s former Bright Right Messenger?”
“Yes. Such a fine man.”
“Who knows. He’s probably alive somewhere. I haven’t seen him since that night either.”
As if by agreement, the two sighed.
They continued conversing as the night deepened.
The campfire they’d built was dying down, and they were nearly emptying the second gourd, when Baek Musang lifted it to drain the last drops.
Seonwoyong suddenly stopped him.
“Junior, hold on. Leave some of that liquor.”
“Huh? What do you….”
“He’s coming. The master of this mountain. We should save him a sip, no?”
At Seonwoyong’s abrupt words, Baek Musang set down the gourd and extended his senses toward the valley outside.
But he still sensed nothing.
Baek Musang cocked his head and turned back to Seonwoyong.
Seonwoyong merely silently poked at the fading embers of the fire.
And then, he appeared.
“To smell such fine liquor amid these mountains—what a rarity. How long has it been? Ha ha ha….”
Baek Musang shot to his feet, staring piercingly at the figure standing in the darkness.
“No… What is this…?”
The gaze of Baek Musang fixed on a youthful monk who looked young enough to have just received the ten precepts and be awaiting full ordination—no strangeness in calling him a novice.
“Your back’s as stiff as ever. How long has it been since seeing your senior brother, and you act like this?”
“Senior brother? It’s really you, Senior Brother Hyeonjin. This lowly Baek Musang humbly pays his respects to Senior Brother Hyeonjin.”
Baek Musang bowed his head and waist, raising one hand in Shaolin’s distinctive one-handed clasp salute.
The other slowly approached the fire, revealing himself.
His threadbare monk’s robe had sleeves worn completely away, leaving it sleeveless. The pants were frayed at the hems, half gone, but he still draped a tattered red kasaya that barely held its shape.
Yet his features seemed just past his teens, skin pale and white, eyes sparkling like stars.
Not a hair on his head or a whisker on his face—so refined he could pass for a novice nun rather than a novice monk.
And on that face bloomed a fresh, beaming smile.
“Long time no see. Cult Leader Woo.”
“Indeed, it’s been ages. Baldy.”
“Ha ha… Looks like Cult Leader Woo has become something not quite man nor beast.”
“You’re no different. Why not just attain Buddhahood? How hideous you look.”