Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Enlightenment
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"Excuse me. I don't really listen to baldies."
"……"
Watching Cheongun commit murder with such proficiency, the monk gave a wry smile.
The boy before his eyes was walking the path of the Dao.
One could tell just from the pure, radiant profound energy emanating from his internal arts.
Since Daoism and Buddhism were ultimately branches of the same tree, it was a fact plain to see in his eyes, the windows to the soul.
Yet his hands were so ruthless.
There wasn't the slightest hesitation in taking a life.
"Did you have to stain your hands with blood?"
"Obviously."
"Young hero, anger fixated solely on the notion of karmic retribution is detrimental to your cultivation."
It was sincere advice.
But Cheongun found it utterly ridiculous.
There was one unwritten rule that martial artists of the jianghu implicitly followed.
It was this: do not casually take life in front of Shaolin disciples.
This rule wasn't born of respect for Shaolin. It was created to avoid the hassle of those bald monks who would cling to you endlessly, preaching sermons after witnessing a single kill.
Shaving their heads and sticking to vegetarianism—clearly, something was loose in their screws.
Armed with twisted logic and annoyingly high martial prowess, what choice was there but to steer clear?
But Cheongun had no intention of avoiding them.
The monks who preached non-killing amid the blood-soaked history of the jianghu were all out of their minds, without exception.
This was a world inside a game.
Cheongun had sunk a whopping 20,000 hours into it.
Out of all that playtime, had there never been a Shaolin start?
He had even become the abbot of Shaolin, conquered the jianghu, and ascended to immortality.
He had propagated the taboo of meat-eating among them.
And spread the novel doctrine of 'reforming the wicked by killing them' countless times.
That was why Cheongun loved Shaolin starts.
There was no greater thrill than rewiring the dogmatic minds of those stubborn monks.
Cheongun pressed his palms together in perfect posture and asked,
"Then what does the 'One is All, All is One' from the Avatamsaka Sutra mean?"
At the question, the monk's face lit up.
Interest in Buddhist teachings was always welcome.
"It means that the one is the whole, and the whole is the one..."
"One wicked man is the wickedness of the world, and removing that wickedness serves the good of the whole."
"Pardon? No, that's not what it..."
Before the monk could finish, Cheongun cut in.
"The Diamond Sutra also says, 'Abide nowhere and give rise to the mind.' It means to generate the mind without attachment. I swung my sword as my heart desired, so isn't that the state of no-thought, no-conception?"
"What...?"
The monk was genuinely flustered.
He had never encountered a being who interpreted sutra passages like this.
"The Dhammapada says 'Do not repay evil with evil,' but I repay with good. By ending this vile bandit's karma now, I'm granting him mercy so he suffers no more in his next life."
"How can you twist things like that, young hero!"
"Twist? It's the Expedient Means Paramita. The sutras say expedients to save sentient beings come in all forms. Surely you're not questioning the words of the sutras now?"
"No, but interpreting it that way...!"
The monk was dumbfounded.
But Cheongun's mouth didn't stop.
"In the Vimalakirti Sutra, the layman Vimalakirti said, 'Affliction is Bodhi.' Affliction is enlightenment itself. So the killing intent I harbor now is part of enlightenment, isn't it?"
"Nonsense, that's a completely different context..."
"Don't worry so much. 'All conditioned phenomena are empty.' The Diamond Sutra says all forms in the world are illusions. So this bandit's life is illusory, and my killing of him is illusory—nothing truly happens."
"......"
The monk's face grew paler by the moment.
It would be better if he just drew his sword and attacked. Instead, he was twisting the sutras to preach nonsense, leaving the monk's mind blank.
Cheongun, on the other hand, was satisfied.
Pure drivel, yet the monk couldn't properly refute it. Clearly, his learning was lacking.
The night breeze was cool.
Moonlight bathed the darkness in quiet serenity.
Cheongun looked up at the sky.
Then, he clasped his hands together.
"Namo Amitabha Buddha."
"……"
When people receive extreme shock, they freeze instead.
The monk was no different.
He was a proud Shaolin warrior. Like all Shaolin disciples, he had chosen the perilous path of wandering the jianghu to spread the Buddha's teachings, and thus taken his first steps into the world.
Walking the mountain path with a swelling heart, he had sensed intense qi circulation by chance and followed the traces here.
There was a boy.
A remarkably handsome boy, whose aura was profoundly deep and pure.
Clearly a cultivator of Daoist internal arts.
Yet blood stained his hands, and a body lay beside him.
So he tried to stop it.
No matter if the foe was evil, such a young boy accumulating karma was something that had to be corrected by one walking the path of the Dao.
But instead of gratitude, he got insults.
And worse, the boy cited sutras to refute him with the Buddha's words—he couldn't even counter properly and was defeated!
Retreating like this would shame Shaolin!
He had to turn it around!
'...He's probably thinking the same thing.'
Cheongun clicked his tongue and moved on.
The only downside was this monk tagging along.
Cheongun whipped his head around.
"What's your name?"
"This novice monk?"
Cheongun nodded.
"This novice monk is Bang Jongdae."
The moment he heard it, Cheongun smacked his forehead.
An unforgettable name.
The Shaolin abbot's—er, the head monk's direct disciple!
Practically the future of Shaolin.
'Had no idea.'
He hadn't even considered it.
If asked how he could not know after 20,000 hours, he had plenty to say.
First, Shaolin disciples all wore identical robes and shaved heads, making them nearly indistinguishable by appearance.
In reality like this, he could tell somehow, but through a monitor's digital graphics, they all looked the same.
Cheongun lengthened his strides.
He advanced quickly.
Matching him, the monk adjusted his pace for some reason.
Cheongun stopped abruptly.
"Why are you following me?"
"Namo Amitabha Buddha. You've granted me awakening, so I wish to learn more."
In short:
He had given enlightenment, and ignoring it would contradict Shaolin teachings, so he'd follow and pester endlessly.
At least just trailing like this was tolerable.
Shaolin monks, during their wandering precept period away from the temple, had a habit of trying to preach to total strangers in the name of spreading the Buddha's word.
Cheongun clicked his tongue.
And strode forward, saying,
"Ah, what a hassle."
"……"
"Why am I so irritated? Feels like someone's glaring at me, and my nape itches."
"……"
"Like a dead weight clinging to my shoulder—body feels heavy, energy drained, cold sweat pouring like sleep paralysis."
Bang Jongdae didn't reply.
He just shamelessly followed.
Cheongun sighed and headed back to the city.
After the long mountain trek, his stomach was empty, so he sought out a restaurant first.
Fortune Comes Pavilion.
Just passing by filled his nose with the aroma of garlic stir-fried in oil and the nutty scent wafting from freshly steamed dumplings.
Cheongun pushed open the door without hesitation.
The place bustled with customers.
Mostly travelers stopping to sate their hunger.
Cheongun took a seat.
Bang Jongdae looked around curiously, then cautiously sat opposite.
"Welcome! What'll it be?"
A waiter approached and asked Cheongun.
Monks in the jianghu were poor.
Why else would wuxia tales rarely show passing monks filling tables at inns for banquets?
It was inevitable.
Monks back then had rice but no money.
Temple residents fared better with donations from lay followers seeking merit, but wandering monks like this were different.
They called themselves "poor monks" not in jest.
They were truly impoverished.
Gulp.
Bang Jongdae swallowed hard.
Cheongun was quick on the uptake.
He could tell at a glance that the monk hadn't eaten properly in a while.
"Dongpo pork, braised pork belly, xiaolongbao, lamb hotpot, and roast duck. One plate each."
"Yes, coming right up."
The waiter dashed to the kitchen.
Cheongun turned sharply.
Bang Jongdae's face was deathly pale.
"How many days have you fasted?"
"......About five days."
Wow, that's a long time.
Impressive he was still standing.
"Eat with me. I ordered plenty."
"...Y-Young hero. I cannot eat meat."
He knew.
Non-killing was their basic precept.
Of course they wouldn't favor meat.
Cheongun couldn't comprehend it, though.
Not knowing the glory of meat?
Was food just ribs to them or what?
"Enjoy your meal!"
Suddenly, the ordered dishes filled the table.
Freshly cooked food steamed invitingly.
Glossy skins dripped with oil, crispy charred edges revealing moist innards peeking through.
And that pooled meat juice at the plate's bottom!
Unable to resist, he leaned in—the rich meaty aroma hit hard.
Cheongun tore into the roast duck with his hands and bit off a piece.
The meat was so tender, it yielded effortlessly at a flick of the tongue.
Melt-in-your-mouth perfection didn't even cover it.
Each chew filled his mouth with melting fat, while the spicy glaze burst like fireworks on his tongue.
Gulp.
Bang Jongdae reached his limit.
"Not eating?"
"……"
Cheongun clicked his tongue.
"Just eat. Non-killing? It's meaningless, I told you."
"……"
Bang Jongdae squeezed his eyes shut.
To block out the sight.
But that only sharpened his other senses.
Clinking dishes.
Smacking sounds of chewing meat.
Rich aroma teasing his nose.
"……"
His mind reeled.
His head went white.
Afflictions flooded his thoughts.
Saliva pooled, threatening to overflow.
Then, Cheongun's words passed like the Buddha's own.
"Wine and meat pass through the intestines, but the Buddha remains in the heart."
"……"
"……"
At those words, Bang Jongdae opened his eyes.
Cheongun smiled kindly, uncharacteristically.
As if a halo glowed behind him.
Acknowledging his struggle, Cheongun slowly slid a plate toward him.
Bang Jongdae choked up.
He stared down the food for a long moment.
Finally.
"Hup!"
He grabbed a glossy piece of Dongpo pork and shoved it into his mouth.
"......Ah."
Tears streamed down.
Seeing it, Cheongun murmured wistfully.
"...It was summer."
"……"