When Does a Person Truly Die?
A person dies when their heart is pierced by a blade, when they're struck down by an incurable disease, or when they eat a deadly poisonous mushroom. That's the usual way. But if you approach it from a Confucian perspective, there's a far more definitive moment of death. "When they've been forgotten by other people."
It sounds like nonsense, but it's true. From a Confucian viewpoint, a person only truly vanishes when they've been forgotten by everyone else. Ancestral rites are acts of commemorating the departed. They're performed because the living haven't forgotten the dead yet, because the dead's spirits still linger. In other words, as long as someone is receiving rites, that "someone" lives on fused with our hearts and backs.
But time passes. The dead pass through their children's generation, grandchildren's, great-grandchildren's, great-great-grandchildren's. Eventually, they're booted from the family rite party. Rites only go back four generations from the performer. That's the Confucian death.
But what happens when there's no four-generation limit? What if they're never forgotten by people, eternally receiving rites and remembrance?
"They're unable to leave this world."
They can't ascend to paradise, can't reincarnate. They just wander the nine heavens forever.
"I see. I hadn't considered that case."
After turning grave destroyer psycho—roasting memorials across Jooju-bu with well-done lightning—and explaining the bullshit reason behind it, Yo Gwang-hyo nodded as if convinced. Good. At least having an expert in the field made it easier to explain.
"So... the memorials were binding the spirits instead?"
But Ak I-yeon, the non-expert, still looked confused, tilting her head. I get it. I wouldn't have understood either without hearing it straight from the spirits. Before seeing them, even I felt queasy about slamming lightning into memorials. The idea that ancestors only get liberated once they've faded so far they no longer receive rites? Tough for ordinary folks to grasp. People just follow along with the adults' rites without questioning, "Why do we only do rites up to great-great-grandpa?"
"Th-then, all those memorials and temples across the Central Plains must be crawling with─"
"Luckily, not that bad."
I gently shook my head at Ak I-yeon's words. I thought the same at first, but no.
"Jooju-bu was a region where countless people died all at once, nearly wiping it out. The descendants who should have performed rites died too. So Jooju-bu's spirits have been receiving rites from total strangers they never met."
At least elsewhere, descendants or acquaintances remember the dead, perform sincere rites while recalling their living faces. But in Jooju-bu, that was impossible. Strangers pitied their deaths and offered hollow prayers. If only a few hundred or thousand spirits were bound there, enlightenment might have been possible somehow...
"But tens of thousands? No dice."
If kin or friends had done the rites, they could've moved on. But they died together. Better if no memorials existed—they'd have been fully forgotten. Instead, they couldn't even fade. Result: Jooju-bu's spirits bound to memorials for a century.
The government's kindness in soothing them had shackled them instead.
"That's why I pumped in so much yang energy. To balance the overflowing yin in those spirits and loosen the memorials binding them."
"I... see."
Ak I-yeon's eyes dimmed bitterly at my explanation. People with tragic ends, still suffering because of the living's goodwill. Who wouldn't feel shaken hearing that?
'Damn northern barbarians.'
I sighed inwardly watching her. Those spirits—wandering the nine heavens for a century, tens of thousands of grudging ghosts—never caused a fuss despite their pain. Recent disturbances in Jooju-bu? Just natural yin surges. And what they did with rampaging yin? Just weep and wander.
They even politely requested I roast the memorials the moment they realized I could talk to them. If every citizen were like those spirits, bureaucracy would be a breeze.
'Hope they ascend to paradise now.'
I prayed for their peaceful afterlife, recalling the charred memorials. May they rest easy after all that hardship.
Word that the Left Vice Inspector General had gone crazy thunder-man, psycho grave-smasher, reached the Branch Manager's ears fast.
"So that's what happened."
But he nodded solemnly once he heard the unavoidable reason.
"Indeed... Tens of thousands of spirits forcibly bound? It's weirder they didn't cause trouble."
The Branch Manager sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"That bastard Yuja didn't even consider it. I can't face the dead."
"Don't take it too hard, sir. The sin lies with the Mongols who soaked this land in innocent blood, not with you, who worked to rebuild Jooju-bu."
"I'm grateful for your words, but as Jooju-bu's Branch Manager, if I don't carry it, who will understand the dead's suffering?"
His voice dripped bitterness; I couldn't offer more comfort. Forcing words now would just amplify his guilt. Tragic. He didn't kill the people or erect the first memorials. Is it right for him to bear that guilt?
"Still, thanks to you, Left Vice Inspector, a century of torment ends. My deepest thanks, sir."
"You're too kind, Branch Manager."
He rose, bowing deeply with clasped hands. I hurriedly stood and bowed back. Intent and outcome were good, but lightning memorials isn't normal. Felt weird receiving thanks for arson.
"Ah. We'll dismantle the memorials in three days and compose a final eulogy in their place. Then the dead can depart this world."
"A wise decision."
Despite my odd feelings, the ghost crisis that shook Jooju-bu wrapped up smoothly. Yeah... that's what matters.
I stayed in Jooju-bu three more days. Gaga had done her duty and could leave, but her resolve to see it through to the end kept us there. That's her charm—her diligence—so I didn't object.
"It's over now."
As memorial dismantling finished, Gaga sighed in relief. I smiled softly.
"You worked hard, Gaga."
"Hard? Just swung my hand a few times."
She shook her head bashfully, but I knew it wasn't that simple. Cheon-la Jin-hyeon Noe-geum, practically Crown Prince's symbol. A thunder art wielding lightning—not easy to master, massive destructive power, huge inner energy drain per use. Firing it ten times in a row on memorials? Enormous burden.
Others might not appreciate it, but I did. At first, I worried she'd been possessed, but now I knew: Gaga never acts without reason.
"Gaga."
"Yeah?"
"Comforting hundreds of thousands of spirits with martial arts? Crown Prince will be thrilled."
Gaga chuckled.
"Think he'll tease me for struggling over just ten?"
Sounded just like him; I burst out laughing. Giwang could incinerate mountains in one strike. Gaga's effort might seem trivial to him, and with his playful nature, he'd rib her on purpose.
"Still, congrats, Gaga."
Before she replied, I leaned in and whispered.
"You reached Peak, right?"
"...How'd you know?"
No denial—just a question. Good, my guess was right. I'd worried it was a mistake.
"Your energy felt different. Subtle, so I wasn't sure, but glad it's worth celebrating."
Gaga scratched her nape awkwardly. Odd reaction. Peak realm: no longer warrior, but master. Some devote lives to it. Yet Gaga, who'd achieved it, looked nonchalant.
'Can't settle here, huh?'
Made me proud. Gaga refines daily. Peak—life goal for others—is just a milestone for her. I'll emulate her, push for Super Peak, beyond.
Ak I-yeon's words drew a wry smile. I'd hidden it best I could, but she saw right through.
'Sudden level up, huh.'
Purifying memorials with lightning, receiving spirits' thanks. Somehow, I forcibly broke through to Peak. Unfathomable ascent. Was it chaining Cheon-la Jin-hyeon Noe-geum I rarely use? Or a gift from hundreds of thousands of spirits? No clue.
Whatever the cause, the result stood: Peak realm. The one I'd dodged, delayed as long as possible.
'She'll freak if she finds out.'
Even as mere first-rate scrub, she works me like a dog. Now a true master? She'd ramp it up tenfold, obvious.
'Damn it.'
Last night flashed: spirits tearfully thanking me. If so grateful, why not ascend with my breakthrough? Drop me back to second-rate, wish granted.