The Way of the Mo Sect, Part 2
White Lotus Cult.
In the Jin Yong world that laid the foundations of martial arts fiction, it appeared as the Buddhist sect known as the Ming Cult — in other words, the demonic sect.
It had also been the religion to which Zhu Yuanzhang once belonged, the man who drove out the Yuan dynasty and founded the Ming.
Though it had helped Zhu Yuanzhang greatly in the process of toppling the Yuan, once he had established the Great Ming and become the founding emperor, the cult was cast aside like a used hound — a tragic organization that had done everything and received nothing in return.
That was the true nature of the White Lotus Cult, the force the martial world called a demonic sect in Daemyeong Pungwhajeon.
My master, Mukjeok.
She was destined to be killed by the cult’s Dao King.
“Are you very surprised?”
My mind, blown clear out of my head by the shock, only managed to find its way back when I heard my master’s voice.
I started working through it as fast as I could.
If the enemy had merely been some lackey or mid-ranking lackey of the demonic sect, then perhaps I could have learned enough martial arts or techniques to save my master somehow.
But of all people, my master had to be Mukjeok.
That meant the one who would kill her was none other than the Heavenly Dao King.
Or rather, the Asura Dao King of the White Lotus Cult — the Dao King ranked just below the Heavenly Demon, and a traitor to the old Mo Sect.
No matter how strong my master was, even as a expert of the Transformation Realm, there was no way she could seize the upper hand against the number two of the demonic sect.
The Blood Demon, who was said to have been slain eight years ago, around the time my master took me in, was comparable in strength to the Hell Dao King, the lowest-ranked of the Dao Kings and number six in the demonic sect.
Even that Blood Demon had been so powerful the Orthodox Alliance couldn’t handle him alone; in the end, only after the current Alliance Leader of the Namgung family, the abbot of Shaolin who had long since retired from the jianghu, and my master — likewise retired from the jianghu — all threw themselves into the fight together were they able to bring him down.
As a bonus, most of the people living in the inner city of Gansu Province died in that chaos, and half the disciples of the Kongtong Sect were wiped out.
And yet, could I really learn martial arts from my master now and still hope to defeat that madman?
This is too much.
I understood that the game AI had randomly assigned my master because of the setup of my persona.
But to make the person who was already fated to die into the target of an assassin sent by her natural enemy?
This godforsaken, shit-awful game.
“Wolyeon.”
The tangled thoughts in my head snapped back to zero at my master’s voice.
She was calling my name. At this point, it sounded as though she’d been irritated by my silence in the middle of a serious conversation. I hurriedly bowed my head, trying to appease her.
“Are you ignoring your master’s words?”
Ah. She really was angry.
I quickly moved the branch and wrote on the ground.
[The disciple was startled to hear that my master’s ancestor was Mozi, and could not choose his words properly.]
“Even the descendants of Gongmeng have served the court for generations to this day. Is it so strange that the descendants of Mozi are still alive?”
My master tilted her head as she said that. Her voice was still clipped, which meant my answer was probably unsatisfactory.
[The disciple was surprised because I had heard the Mo Sect was wiped out when Qin Shi Huang ordered the burning of books and burying of scholars.]
“And where did you hear that?”
[Has my master forgotten ordering this disciple to memorize the Eighteen Histories from end to end?]
“Hmm.”
No, wait — that really did look like she didn’t remember.
I had spent half a year memorizing that thing line by line, and this was how she treated me?
Even when I studied East Asian history as a high school elective, I’d never worked this hard on Chinese history.
Perhaps my master noticed the faint reproach I was unconsciously giving her, because she let out a small cough.
“Very well. Disciple. Is there more you wish to ask this master?”
The answer to that question had already been decided.
I gently moved the branch and wrote.
[I am curious about everything.]
“If you’re so curious, then after hearing your master’s name, clan, and school, you should know how to be satisfied. What is it that interests you so much, you greedy little disciple?”
[Master knows everything about me, but I only know your name, clan, and school. Is that not unfair?]
“What nonsense is that, disciple? There are not many people in this world who know their master’s every secret.”
[But in my world, there is only you, Master.]
“Hah. You’re surprisingly sharp-tongued for a mute, disciple.”
[I can’t speak, though.]
“Say one more thing back to your master, and I’ll cut off your fingers.”
Yes, ma’am.
I obediently set down the branch, knelt, and waited for my master’s words.
She rested a hand lightly against her chin and fell into thought.
Then she stood there in silence for the space of half an incense stick, saying nothing at all.
This time it felt like my calves and thighs were about to explode, not my head.
But I had to hear it.
To my shame, I didn’t know much about my master — about Mukjeok.
For characters who appeared in the main story, I could at least piece together a rough outline of their settings, but that wasn’t true for characters who existed only in the background.
So if I wanted to learn enough about my master now, I might gain at least some chance of saving her life.
With that thought, I waited — for what felt like an eternity.
“Very well. I understand.”
At last, after a full hour of contemplation, my master opened her mouth.
At long last. Finally.
I bowed my head obediently and listened closely to her words.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
If you wish to understand your master, then first you must understand the Mo Sect.
Disciple, how much do you know about the Mo Sect?
[I heard that it advocated universal love and non-aggression, and that it supported Heaven and Earth while caring for the weak.]
Yes. A bunch of fools, the lot of them.
[Is it really all right to speak that way of the school your ancestor founded?]
Disciple, if all under Heaven could love and cherish one another, then the hundreds of states in the Central Plains would never have vanished, and the ruler of the realm would not have changed twelve times over.
Traveling the world while dreaming of a dream that could never be realized, trying to put their ideals into practice — though their bodies walked this mortal world, their hearts were already in Peach Blossom Spring. If one does not call such people delusional fools, then what would you call them?
And your question contributes nothing to your master’s explanation. Keep quiet and listen.
[Yes, Master.]
The Mo Sect rose to fame by aiding the weak states, blocking the strong ones, and tending to the sick and suffering among the people.
It was said that if the schools of the realm were not Confucianism, then they were Moism.
The world painted by Mozi was one in which all under Heaven were divided into countless fragments, forming tens of thousands of small societies.
And all of them would learn the arts of defense and holding a city, so that when an enemy invaded, they would join hands and help one another, standing firm and breaking the enemy’s will to attack.
This is what is called non-aggression.
And as the means to achieve non-aggression, Mozi advocated universal love.
But as time passes, the fortunes of states decline, and once the smaller beasts are devoured, only the larger ones remain to fight over territory — such is the law of nature.
By the late Spring and Autumn and Warring States period, all the smaller states had been swallowed up, until in the end only the Seven Warring States remained.
Confronted with a reality that drifted ever farther from the world Mozi had envisioned, the juzi of the Mo Sect soon decided to compromise with that reality.
It is ideal that all under Heaven be split into thousands upon thousands of pieces, each protecting the others.
But since the shape of the world no longer allowed for that ideal, as a second-best measure they sought to unify the realm and let the strongest and most benevolent among them govern it. This was called shangtong.
So the Mo Sect headed for Qin, the strongest of the Seven Warring States. They built chariots for Qin, raised its walls, and in the end handed over the realm itself.
But the First Emperor betrayed the Mo Sect after ascending the throne. When he burned the books of the Hundred Schools and buried the scholars alive, he had the Mo Sect’s sages buried there alive with them. That was the famous burning of books and burying of scholars.
[I heard that the Mo Sect’s lineage was completely severed at that time.]
Yes. The lineage was severed, but annihilation was avoided.
When the Mo Sect suffered catastrophic losses and its disciples became wanderers overnight, there was one man who extended a hand to them.
That was Zhang Liang, the one who had conspired to assassinate the First Emperor together with King of the Great Sea’s Strength. He was later known as the Marquis of Liu.
At that time, the Marquis of Liu had failed in his attempt to assassinate the First Emperor and, as a wandering knight-errant, traveled the realm until he met Huang Shigong and received the Three Strategies.
The Marquis of Liu reached out to the remnants of the Mo Sect, and later, after placing himself under the service of the Han Gaozu, helped bring down the Qin.
After that, Gaozu contested the realm with Xiang Yu, and the Han Dynasty was founded.
But the Han was no different from Qin. Just as Qin had slaughtered the Mo Sect because it interfered with Legalist rule, Han sought to suppress the Mo Sect because it obstructed Confucian rule.
However, the Marquis of Liu persuaded Gaozu otherwise, and the plan to discard the Mo Sect once its usefulness had passed was canceled.
Thus, though the school’s lineage was broken, the Mo Sect escaped extermination.
[Did Gaozu heed the Marquis of Liu’s counsel?]
Yes. Gaozu was a sinister man, but also intelligent and flexible.
He trusted the Marquis of Liu’s integrity and never doubted him throughout his life, so he listened to his advice as well. The Mo Sect could be dismantled, but it escaped total destruction.
But at the time, my ancestor, who served as the Mo Sect’s juzi, was deeply heartbroken.
He believed the world painted by Mozi could never be realized.
In his moment of inner demons, my ancestor said this to the Marquis of Liu:
“Since Your Grace has given the Mo Sect two opportunities to open the gates of our estate, we will never forget it.”
And when the Marquis of Liu laid down all his posts and came to Wuling hoping to follow in the footsteps of Chisongzi, my ancestor installed the Mo Sect’s mechanisms and Huang Shigong’s ingenious formations in the most beautiful and treacherous place in Wuling, to guard the Marquis of Liu’s ascent to immortality, and appointed himself as keeper of his tomb.
Generation after generation, the family continued that duty, guarding the Zhang family valley as the tomb keepers of the Marquis of Liu. That is the truth behind the immortals of Zhangjiajie, a legacy that has continued for more than a thousand years — and the reason your master made this place her home.
[Then has Master never once left Zhangjiajie in her entire life?]
……
No.
Long ago, more than ten years ago, your master once stepped into the jianghu like those ruffians outside who call themselves great heroes.
The Mo Sect’s righteousness lay in action — in not merely sitting still and seeking good, but in moving one’s feet, persuading others, and putting ideals into practice. Your master once believed the way of the knight-errant was the proper path.
[Since you say there was such a time, does that mean you no longer believe that now?]
That is correct.
Your master wandered the jianghu, met countless self-proclaimed heroes, and exchanged views with them in words and writing, or argued over principles with the sword.
I can say this without hesitation. The ones now shouting about being the righteous sect in the martial world are mostly trash. There is no need even to mention the evil sects or demonic ways. Every time I hear them call themselves heroes, I’m so disgusted I could vomit.
There are no true adherents of righteousness among those who cry out for it. They claim to follow the Dao and Buddhist compassion, to have thrown themselves into the martial world for the glory of their clans and the spirit of devotion to the state, yet in the end all they care about is the meat, wine, gold, and flattery that end up in their own bellies.
If those bastards really want to cultivate the Dao, then they should follow the precedents of the Eight Immortals, Laozi, Zhang Daoling, and Wang Chongyang, go into the mountains and the fields, and ascend to immortality through the state of wu wei zi ran.
If they want to cultivate Buddhist compassion, then they should do as Shakyamuni, Tripitaka, and Bodhidharma did — take up the sutras at once, save the living beings, and sing the Buddha’s words.
If they want personal success or family glory, then they need only follow the examples of the Yue Family Army and Water Margin, enter official service, become generals, and earn merit.
The Yue family of Shandong, whom they now praise as the very emblem of devotion to the state, entered the court and served in the Jinyiwei, did they not? And what are those so-called prestigious clans doing now, if not occupying their own lands, calling themselves elites, and extorting protection money from the common folk?
Especially the Water Margin your master used as an example — even if people now prattle on about heroes and knights-errant, in truth they were just a band of forest bandits. The martial men who play at being heroes in the Great Ming now are not even as good as the outlaw sects of the Song.
At least the Qingnang Sect, the Beggars’ Gang, and the Tang clan are somewhat tolerable. But in the end, even those bastards ought to abandon their martial arts or vanish from the world if it is for the sake of all under Heaven.
And what is that expression, disciple?
[Your words just shattered my fantasies about the martial world and the jianghu beyond all hope of repair.]
That is a very fine attitude. When those fantasies wear down completely and your expectations of the jianghu are gone for good, this master will glue them back together with glutinous rice and paste.
[Listening to Master talk, I’ve developed a question. May I ask it?]
I grant permission.
[From what I hear now, I dare say Master seems to hold a rather negative view of the teachings of the school.]
It is not negativity. It is seeing reality clearly.
If your master truly rejected the school’s teachings, would I still be sitting here teaching you so leisurely?
[Then why does Master still follow the teachings of the school? By your own words, the Mo Sect has already fallen apart, and only its name and scriptures have been passed down.]
……
Because it’s cool.
[Pardon?]
Anyone who walks the martial world has a dream, disciple.
Some dream of becoming the strongest under Heaven. Some dream of being a hero. Some dream of making a name for themselves across the realm, and some dream of wealth and glory.
All of them are nonsense.
If everyone in the jianghu is going to dream absurd dreams anyway, shouldn’t there at least be a few fools who want to see the smiling face of the people under Heaven? At least then this harsh martial world would still have some human warmth to it.
Your master simply thought that was cool.
……Why is the corner of your mouth twitching while your master is speaking, you rude little disciple?
[Master, you really are a hero.]
Disciple.
[Yes.]
Kneel.
[Pardon?]
Did I not say I dislike that way of address? Were you listening to your master with only one ear?
Kneel.
[Yes.]