Arhat Divine Art (2)
What should he do about this?
Baek Su-gyeong felt a deep inner conflict. How much more should he meddle in matters that weren't even his own? Was it right for him to involve himself in creating Shaolin's heart method?
The deliberation dragged on, but his answer was short.
"All I can offer is a koan."
"We wish to hear your words, Teacher."
With a sigh, Baek Su-gyeong spoke. "Martial arts are learning itself, and learning is application. You've twisted its foundation, which will not only block Shaolin's martial veins but warp its future as well."
A single phrase that pierced Mu-won's chest. To the young arhat destined to shoulder Shaolin's future, Baek Su-gyeong's words rang with undeniable weight.
Baek Su-gyeong continued. "Correcting a once-twisted foundation will be difficult, but set it right once, and it will endure straight."
Baek Su-gyeong gazed at Mu-won. His eyes were profoundly deep, like the night sky reflected in a scholar's pupils.
"An arhat is one who receives offerings; to receive offerings is to be an arhat. To pave the path for an arhat worthy of respect through enlightenment, he needs attire befitting that role."
It was a metaphor.
"The heart is the body, martial arts the garb. If you need a foundation to cultivate the body, it's right not to borrow from others but to forge it through your own realization."
"You mean..."
"Even if the path ahead is a thorny ordeal of briars, press on without fear to attain the sutras and precepts. Retreat in fear, and you will decline."
To Mu-won, every word from Baek Su-gyeong's mouth now sounded like the Buddha's teachings. They were insights no one without deep Buddhist knowledge could utter.
"Seek bodhi above, transform the masses below. First attain enlightenment to guide sentient beings rightly."
"...!"
"You've already attained it, Great Monk. You need neither answers from me nor aid."
It was a long speech, but its essence lay in the final words: Even without his help, Mu-won would reach the result he sought on his own.
"But if that heart method needs a name," Baek Su-gyeong concluded, "then Arhat Divine Art would suit it."
"Arhat. Arhat. Excellent. Truly excellent."
Mu-won smiled. Thus was named the Arhat Divine Art, the divine art that would later bring fame to Shaolin.
Musang Seonsa sipped his tea, watching the backs of Baek Su-gyeong and his group as they descended from the mountain gate, summoned by some business in Deungbong County.
Beside him sat Baekmi Seonsa, Mu-won's master.
As Musang Seonsa set down his teacup, Baekmi asked, "Did you foresee this from the start, Old Monk?"
"Beop-sang's words were merely the trigger."
Musang Seonsa lifted his cup again. The tea had gone cold and stale, but his face showed no care.
"Wudang has changed, Baekmi."
"That's common knowledge, Old Monk."
No matter how secluded in Shaolin's mountain gate, its ears were sharp. Perched on Song Mountain, it might not see a thousand li away unaided, but its hands, feet, and eyes extended far. All intelligence inevitably reached Musang Seonsa.
In response, Musang Seonsa said, "Wudang's sealed gates have opened, seekers now knock on its closed doors. All from a single novel. Isn't it ironic?"
"Old Monk..."
"A book transformed Wudang, indolent for generations. Upon hearing Beop-sang, it was no wonder this old monk thought to borrow Teacher Su-gyeong's power."
Baekmi swallowed a sigh as Musang Seonsa pressed his palms together.
But Musang Seonsa wasn't finished. "Many trials await Teacher Su-gyeong. Shaolin must be his bulwark."
"Even without Shaolin, Wudang stands. Why say such things, Old Monk?"
"He alone sorted Wudang's chaos. Who wouldn't covet such martial talent? Why else would the evil sects stir?"
Baekmi unwittingly nodded. It made sense. The talent to distill verbose expositions of Wudang arts by past sages into simple lines—Wudang Sword Hero was too extraordinary to dismiss as mere fiction.
Musang Seonsa continued. "We call it the Thousand-Year Wudang for sustaining the jianghu across ages alongside our temple. To so decisively condense its arts in mere lines..."
"Even 'heaven-sent martial genius' falls short, Old Monk."
"Indeed."
Baekmi stroked his beard. "Sending Teacher Su-gyeong to Mu-won was part of that design."
"I believed a few words from him would lead the boy to new heights."
"Heh heh..."
How profound his schemes. Baekmi marveled at Musang Seonsa's machinations, proven spot-on.
Baekmi chanted a Buddha's name. "That Teacher Su-gyeong ended the boy's long wandering—surely the Buddha's grace. Amitabha."
"Teacher Su-gyeong is heaven-sent."
"You know the boy shattered his wall in mere days, Old Monk?"
Musang Seonsa nodded. "He came seeking permission to create a new heart method."
"A heart method..."
"Our temple's arts and methods have drifted apart over time—fact is fact. The boy seeks to mend it, no doubt spurred by Teacher Su-gyeong's words."
Baekmi stroked his beard again. How far did Musang Seonsa see, how deeply did he plan?
"His presence will stir great waves in the jianghu. The world will quake with his steps."
"Amitabha. Amitabha..."
"Rare indeed. One who shuns ostentation, seeking only ordinary life."
"Honeyed words, sword in belly comes to mind, Old Monk."
Musang Seonsa's voice was soft but firm. "To you, Baekmi, does Teacher Su-gyeong seem so insidious?"
Baekmi shook his head. "Of course not. Merely, if he wavers... one man could doom murim."
"You look too far ahead. Bad habit. Human life is finite, Baekmi."
Musang Seonsa admonished gently. "Had he intended that, murim would already tremble—Wudang in his grasp behind, Murim Alliance in his fist ahead, shaking the realm."
"Hm..."
"Yet despite heaven-sent talent, he harbors no such ambition."
Amitabha. Musang Seonsa's low chant echoed through Yongjukam.
Agreeing somewhat, Baekmi changed the subject. "Old Monk, did you attain realization through Wudang Sword Hero?"
"'Kill the Buddha upon meeting him' struck deep. Shocking words. Amitabha."
As Musang Seonsa replied, an invisible aura seemed to ripple from him. Baekmi's face filled with awe.
"S-Such irreverence."
"But not wrong. Kill the Buddha upon meeting, the god upon meeting—their shadows bind progress."
Only then did Baekmi feel delusion lift from his eyes. He anew perceived Musang Seonsa's vast, mountain-like presence, unfit for his slight frame.
"Amitabha."
Musang Seonsa's chant awakened Baekmi's mind.
"The boy has set his will—truly splendid."
Musang Seonsa's amused voice echoed in Yongjukam.
"Whew..."
Baek Su-gyeong stepped out of the guesthouse. He wondered if the patchwork koan he'd spouted had truly helped Mu-won. Anxiety brought an involuntary sigh.
He'd mixed plausible terms memorized from writing wuxia, aiming to sound profound. But had it really helped?
What a headache...
Still, he figured Shaolin wouldn't bother him further. Their affairs were theirs to handle. No reason for an outsider like him to meddle more—and he shouldn't anyway.
They'd already shown him sect secrets; he couldn't blab freely. It was Shaolin's shame. Even known publicly, one hesitates to voice it—first, because it's Shaolin; second, lest they silence him.
"Guess I'll keep my mouth shut and live."
Resolving never to utter Shaolin's name, Baek Su-gyeong walked on. His Shaolin tour done, only the return to Wuan remained—he planned a leisurely rest.
But there came Namgung So-min, with Jin-myeong in tow. Her gait slightly urgent, unlike usual.
Question marks formed in Baek Su-gyeong's eyes.
"Lady Namgung?"
"You were at the guesthouse, Teacher!"
"What's the matter? Such hurried steps."
"Mingwang Society sent another letter."
Baek Su-gyeong's face crumpled. Why those guys? He'd already refused mediation between Shaolin and Mingwang Society.
"We conveyed refusal, yet they sent another?"
"Yes."
In Namgung So-min's hand was that very letter. Baek Su-gyeong scowled.
"Why such obsession with me?"
"Likely scheming to borrow your name to mend ties with Shaolin."
"Hero Jin."
"Calling a mere guard 'great hero'..."
Jin-myeong looked touched. Hearing him, Baek Su-gyeong paused on tearing the letter.
If they'd keep hounding him, better settle before returning to Wuan. Missing his simple life chatting with So Ssaang-a, he sighed.
"If they truly want to see me, tell them to come to Cuiyue Tower in Luoyang—the leader himself."
"T-Teacher. That's..."
It was an outrageous demand, leaving Namgung So-min flustered. But Baek Su-gyeong was exhausted from his grueling march through Murim Alliance, secret agents, and Shaolin.
With Mingwang Society clinging on, irritation boiled over. So what if people treated him well? Core stress remained unsolved!
The root of demanding the leader's presence was sheer fatigue.
"If they're truly desperate, they'll come."
Fatigue thickened his voice. "Relay that. I need rest."
With that, he briskly walked past the stunned Namgung So-min and Jin-myeong.