Hengshan Mountain: The Auditor's Arrival
Hengshan—one of China's Five Great Mountains, located in the south. Unlike the other four, which cluster relatively close together, it stands alone far south of the Yangtze River. Yet no one dares dismiss Hengshan. How could they, when it's practically a shared holy site for Taoism and Buddhism? Even from a Confucian perspective, Hengshan is no lightweight.
How did a Taoist sect manage to stake a claim here? Perhaps it was the overwhelming presence of Shaolin, the dominant Buddhist powerhouse, and the Confucian giant that is the imperial bureaucracy, leaving room for a Taoist quota system. Taoists need to eat too.
"It feels like coming home. When I first descended from Hengshan, my heart was just pounding with excitement, but in the end, I guess I'm a child of these mountains after all."
I glanced out the carriage window at Jeong U-rok's murmur from across from me. Hengshan was starting to come into faint view, exuding a serene and majestic aura. Just as he'd said, it felt like the mountain was welcoming two returning sons.
Not exactly a towering peak. In fact, Hengshan's elevation isn't that high. From my memory, it barely tops a thousand meters? The other sacred mountains aren't much different. But maybe that's one reason it's counted among the Five Greats. Living at three or four thousand meters is a bit harsh for humans. Somewhere between a thousand and two thousand feels just right for comfortable living. That's Hengshan's mercy toward humanity.
...No need to worry about getting worn out from hiking. For a moment, I thought of Sichuan's vicious mountain ranges. Those peaks brimmed with malice, as if intent on tearing humans apart. Hengshan being a normal place was a real relief.
We parked the carriage in a village at the base of Hengshan and made our way up a suitable hiking path to reach the Hengshanpa gates.
What the hell?
At the sect's main gate, a bizarre sight greeted us. A massive sword scar slashed diagonally from the upper right to the lower left. Its depth and width were extraordinary, impossible to ignore.
Did some lunatic vent his rage on another sect's gate? No, if that were the case, they'd have repaired it by now.
The founding master's mark? No evidence, but it was a plausible theory. If the sect's founder had left it as proof of enlightenment, marking his territory on the gate, his descendants in Hengshanpa probably couldn't bring themselves to fix it. And on closer inspection, the scar emanated a clean yet domineering aura. Leaving it as-is could showcase the founder's prestige to the sect's warriors and visiting guests—probably more beneficial than patching it up.
...
Why does it feel so familiar? For some reason, this sword scar from Hengshanpa's founder—someone I'd never seen before—stirred an odd sense of familiarity. What was it? Why did it feel like I'd seen it somewhere? This was my first time in Hengshan, so there shouldn't be any reason for déjà vu.
"Haha, as expected of Your Excellency—you recognize it right away."
As I stood there silently glaring at the gate, wrestling with an inexplicable unease, Jeong U-rok beside me burst into laughter and spoke up.
"That sword scar was carved personally by Crown Prince Giwang."
"...What?"
The unexpected culprit's identity drew a delayed reaction from me, a beat too late.
"During the time when Grandfather led the world's heroes against the Mongols, Crown Prince Giwang visited Hengshanpa. In an era when the whole world was uniting against the enemy and still falling short, how could the Taoists—who should protect the common folk—remain silent? That's what he said."
Unlike Jeong U-rok, who recounted it as calmly as a fairy tale, I couldn't stay composed hearing it. An age of chaos, Grandfather's visit, a rebuke for silence.
That's a total rampage.
The conclusion hit me instantly from those keywords alone, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Grandfather had come all the way to Hengshanpa and unleashed a sword strike on their gate—a super-grade rampage. The poor sect must have been shell-shocked, dragged by the collar straight to the battlefield.
"Crown Prince Giwang's roar shamed the Taoists of Hengshanpa back then. As he said, remaining silent amid the world's turmoil was no way of the Dao."
"I... see."
"That's why we preserve his teaching to this day. To remember the shame of our past silence before receiving his lesson, to recall the vow we made to leave Hengshan for the sake of the world."
Before I knew it, Jeong U-rok and Kang Yeon were gazing at the gate with shining eyes.
Yeah, it's a touching, beautiful anecdote. To oblivious juniors, it must look heroic: seniors breaking their silence at a hero's roar and stepping into the world. But knowing Grandfather's personality, I couldn't feel the inspiration.
That Grandfather personally trekking to Hengshan and swinging his sword? His eyes must have been seriously bloodshot. I worried he hadn't grabbed the sect leader's beard for a game of fire mouse.
Damn it...
It was heartbreaking. He pulled off the rampage, so why was I, the grandson, feeling the guilt? Was Hengshanpa inviting me just to see what the grandson of that gate-smashing bastard looked like? The fact that I couldn't confidently say no made it even more heartbreaking.
Thankfully, the moment we entered Hengshanpa, no one mobbed me shouting, "It's Giwang's grandson who made a scene at our gate!"
"Welcome, Left Vice Inspector General."
Instead, I received a warm reception from the sect leader and elders, their faces kind.
Right—despite Grandfather's wild exploits making me nervous, I'd been invited for saving one of their disciples. I deserved the welcome, not persecution.
"We've long heard of your tireless efforts for the world's peace as Left Vice Inspector General. We've restrained ourselves from seeking an audience, but hearing you'd saved one of our Hengshan disciples? We couldn't hold back any longer. Forgive us."
"Not at all. As a swordsman myself, I grew up hearing tales of the sect leader's righteous deeds. When I received your invitation, my heart raced—I didn't know what to do with myself."
"Ho ho, is that so? I worried this old man's empty reputation might taint your ears."
The sect leader let out a small chuckle, satisfaction evident on his face. No matter the age, few dislike praise. Especially when most murim clans and sects face contempt and disdain from officialdom—receiving high praise from a bureaucrat like me could only elevate Hengshanpa's status.
"Hmmm."
The sect leader quickly stopped laughing, stroking his beard as he scanned my face.
"Sect leader?"
"Ah, my apologies. Seeing you, Left Vice Inspector General, brought Crown Prince Giwang to mind."
I flinched at those words. I hoped it wasn't resentment over Grandfather—
"He's still a peerless hero in the world today, but in my youth, Crown Prince Giwang was the very embodiment of a legend's righteous knight-errant. Handsome and upright like you, he drove countless women to longing."
No, it wasn't. Just reminiscing about the past.
"Grandfather would be delighted to hear that."
"Ho ho, he'd probably swing his fist first, calling it nonsense. His grandson, the Left Vice Inspector General, knows that best, doesn't he?"
I couldn't refute it, so I nodded. Even as his grandson, I knew Grandfather's temperament was a bit eccentric.
As the Left Vice Inspector General exchanged pleasantries and withdrew, I stroked my beard.
Truly, Crown Prince Giwang's grandson. But different from Crown Prince Giwang himself.
"He resembles him, but he's different."
It wasn't just my thought—the elder to my left, Wi-pyeong, voiced it, and the other elders nodded in agreement.
All of us here had seen the young Crown Prince Giwang—or rather, had our eyes opened by his roar and taken up swords for the world.
"You call yourselves Taoists, yet you stand with hands folded while the world burns in chaos!? And you dare claim to be men of the Dao!? If that's the case, cut off what's dangling between your legs and play eunuch!"
...It was a rather heated roar, but its shocking words were exactly what roused Hengshanpa back then. Even they, grinding their teeth at Western Buddhism's tyranny, had barely considered defying the Mongols.
Anyway, having witnessed that fiery Crown Prince Giwang, seeing his grandson now stirred complex emotions.
"As a swordsman myself, I grew up hearing tales of the sect leader's righteous deeds. When I received your invitation, my heart raced—I didn't know what to do with myself."
The spitting image in appearance, yet a completely different temperament. All the more so.
"I've heard Crown Prince Giwang's daughter-in-law is gentle and wise—perhaps the Left Vice Inspector General takes after her."
"It's astonishing. I never imagined Giwang's blood would dilute like this."
"Ho ho, let's think differently. It's not that all descendants of Gichungmuwang are like Crown Prince Giwang—no, Crown Prince Giwang was the outlier."
Seeing the elders burst into laughter, I couldn't help but smile too.
Yes, it wasn't that the Left Vice Inspector General differed from Crown Prince Giwang—Giwang was the one out of step with the world. If men like him kept being born, this wouldn't be the human realm; it'd be the Buddhist hells of hungry ghosts or animals.
"But, Sect Leader. Shouldn't we speak to the Left Vice Inspector General about it?"
As I relaxed, comforted that the world still had some sanity, Wi-pyeong Elder's words snapped me back.
"He's just arrived from Dongting Lake to Hengshan. Let him rest a few days at least."
I shook my head slightly at Wi-pyeong Elder.
We did have a request for the Left Vice Inspector General, but as the ones begging a favor, we needed to observe proper etiquette all the more. Dumping a complicated story on a guest right after inviting him—that's the way of vile unorthodox sects.
"And it's not urgent anyway."
"My thinking was shortsighted, Sect Leader."
Wi-pyeong Elder bowed his head in understanding.
After exchanging formal greetings with the sect leader, the room Jeong U-rok guided me to was quite cozy. So cozy that even a wild beast might want to stay.
What the fuck.
In stunned disbelief, I stared at the deer boldly planted in the middle of the room. It seemed to be munching on something—had it eaten the paper screen?
...But do deer eat paper?
Maybe it's a muntjac? No, I'd never heard of muntjacs having antlers like that. A roe deer then? Who knows. Deer or roe deer, you need to have seen one up close to tell.