Buddhists Want to Live as Buddhists - 6
In this world, Daoists don't particularly forbid meat. Abstaining from it is just a recommendation, not a strict rule—and if a Daoist practices martial arts, there are even opinions that eating meat is actually good for the body. That's why sects with Daoist leanings like Wudang, Zhongnan, Huashan, and Hengshan serve meat to their guests. They eat it themselves anyway. Serve grass to guests while stuffing themselves with meat? No way that kind of nonsense exists.
Of course, that's the Daoists. Even in this world with martial arts, monks still shy away from meat. Puzzling why Daoism allows it but Buddhism doesn't, but if they themselves avoid it, what can you do? Just accept it.
'Meat at Shaolin.'
But that common sense shattered. The assumption I'd brushed off crumbled in an instant. Among the food Kkieak was gobbling up—mostly greens and mushrooms—meat had appeared here and there. That meant Shaolin had stockpiled meat.
"Patron. It's good to see you again."
As I seriously wondered if I'd come to Shaolin Sect instead of Shaolin Temple, Myeong-seung greeted me first once more.
"Ah, yes. I came looking for someone. I wanted to ask if you'd seen this fellow here at Shaolin."
"Someone you're looking for."
Myeong-seung's gaze shifted to Kkieak at my words. Then he let out a chuckle and pressed his palms together in greeting.
"As expected, you've been looking after him, Patron. I considered sending a letter but held off, worried it might be our misunderstanding. I'm sorry to have troubled you."
"No need to apologize like that. This guy flew off on his own—how could it be Shaolin's fault?"
I waved off Myeong-seung's apology. Shaolin hadn't kidnapped Kkieak, and there wasn't a "Giwang household pet spirit beast" collar around his neck. He'd flown here alone, and Shaolin couldn't very well ignore a spirit beast that arrived on its own wings.
...Wait a minute.
Something felt off upon reflection. When I'd spoken with Hyun-seung, I'd mentioned having a non-poisonous poison bird by my side. If Shaolin's monks had approached Kkieak closely, they must have already realized he was harmless. And Myeong-seung had said "looking after him," not "a child you're caring for." As if he already knew Kkieak.
"Um, have you had some prior connection with Kkieak?"
"Kkieak? That's his name now?"
At the name Kkieak, Myeong-seung's smile widened into a full burst of laughter—not a subtle grin, but a hearty, booming one full of exuberance. It was a bit embarrassing. Was Kkieak really that funny a name?
'Fair enough.'
Honestly, if not for Baekryeon Cult Leader's recommendation and consistency with the other spirit beasts, I wouldn't have named him Kkieak either. It was just that Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i had set the pattern.
"We at Shaolin called him Hayang. He was the poison bird Senior Brother Cheongseung discovered."
"Oh, really?"
For a moment, I thought Kkieak or Hayang—same difference—but names weren't the point now. The key was Kkieak's connection to Shaolin. A partner who'd traveled with Cheongseung, who died decades ago.
"Senior Brother Cheongseung found him by chance. Even with a poison bird tucked in his belt, he was immune to all toxins and completely fine."
"Looking back now, that poison bird must have been terrified. Flying through the sky as usual, only to get snagged by Senior Brother. For a poison bird, he spent more time walking on the ground than in the air."
'It all connects like this.'
Just as I'd told Hyun-seung about my harmless poison bird, Myeong-seung now shared about the walking poison bird that accompanied Cheongseung. I'd been amazed there was another like Kkieak. Who could've guessed it was actually him?
"Thank you, Patron."
As I marveled inwardly at the strange ties of fate, Myeong-seung pressed his palms together again and bowed deeply.
"Thanks to you, blessings have come to Shaolin. We've reunited with a bond severed decades ago, and the elders who saw themselves as sinners have stepped back into the world."
Elders who viewed themselves as sinners. He must mean those monks around Kkieak. No wonder their ages and cultivations seemed extraordinary.
"How could that be my merit? Kkieak came to Shaolin on his own, and they emerged by their own choice. I had no hand in it."
But my admiration was short-lived. I hurriedly soothed Myeong-seung as he bowed.
No matter that I was crown prince, it didn't sit right seeing war veterans and elders bow to me.
"Events untouched for decades happened after your visit, Patron. Even if you deny it, this is your doing."
But whether I soothed him or not, moisture tinged Myeong-seung's voice.
'What now?'
Understanding his feelings made it hard to press further. After the founding war, Abbot Hyun-seung had fallen into despair from the tragedy, and even higher-ranking elders had secluded themselves in the Repentance Cave, never emerging. Shaolin's entire leadership bore guilt.
How could Myeong-seung be an exception? Why wouldn't he want to seclude himself in atonement? He'd held back only because if even he vanished amid the elders' absence—and with the abbot spending part of each day in the cave—Shaolin would be lost.
Myeong-seung had suppressed his grief for Shaolin's sake, not overcome it.
"Patron, we are blood-drinking fake monks and precept-breakers. Our heads held not compassion but rage, our hands stained not with water but blood. We've committed the greatest sin for Buddhists."
"Wasn't it a resolute choice to protect the realm and its people from the barbarians? Who would blame that?"
"Process cannot justify results, nor should 'unavoidable' exceptions be made. Such precedents would have everyone crying 'for the greater good.'"
I nodded; he wasn't wrong. Few words are as vague and perilous as "greater good." Fighting the Mongols was undeniably righteous, but could every ensuing conflict claim the same? Might Shaolin one day oppress innocents under that banner? That was Myeong-seung's fear—Shaolin's fear. Future generations abusing the precedent of killing for righteousness. To prevent such tragedy, they'd condemned and regretted their actions even more fiercely. Buddhist guilt compounded by leadership responsibility.
"But seeing Hayang—no, Kkieak—felt like glimpsing light in darkness. The blood I thought could never wash away seemed to fade, if only a little."
Myeong-seung turned back to Kkieak, who was obliviously stuffing his face, unaware his owner had arrived.
"He shed his innate poison and can mingle with people. Without total immunity, he can still be with everyone."
"His bond with Shaolin must have deeply touched him."
"Even if we provided a small spark, he achieved it himself. Kkieak cast off his fated chains."
After that, Myeong-seung fell silent for a while. He simply watched Kkieak and the monks with a smile, tears welling in his eyes.
"Nothing is impossible to wash away forever."
I murmured softly to him. I didn't elaborate further. No need—his heart must already be stirring.
Thanks to Hyun-seung noticing my return late, the feast for Kkieak extended to include me and Kki-ing-i, lasting into the night. It was a mad banquet. The endless flow of meat and wine from the storehouse was awe-inspiring.
"We will never forget the grace you've bestowed on Shaolin."
Amid it, Hyun-seung claimed I had granted him a favor. I understood his feelings, but I couldn't hide my embarrassment. All I'd done was stare blankly as Kkieak flew off. And he'd shed his poison thanks to Cheongseung, by the circumstances. It was just Shaolin's seed returning after decades.
But Hyun-seung and the elders, eyes already glazed with fervor, ignored my words. In Shaolin's heart, I was now the Ganges that cleansed their pain.
"May glory fill Shaolin's future."
What could I do? Just offer some polite blessings and leave.
"Has Shaolin's hero come?"
But Shaolin's elevated status made even that one phrase ripple too greatly.
"...My lord, hero of Shaolin? I have no plans to shave my head."
"Heh, I wouldn't drag a newlywed into a temple. But with Shaolin praising you so fervently, what can I do? You're an honorary Shaolin man now."
Three days after the mad feast ended, I visited the Right Censor-in-chief's office for my report. She greeted me with a pleased expression.
"Lately, Shaolin's monks have descended Mount Song in droves. In Zhili, they help peasants farm, aid construction, or hunt beasts. Some have even crossed into Shanxi and Shaanxi."
'What's that about?'
The shocking news left me speechless for a moment.
"And the old monks shut in the Repentance Cave are now wandering the world. His Majesty pitied their torment of guilt, yet you've eased his worries, Deputy Right Censor."
"I-is that so?"
"Yes. Well done, Deputy Right Censor. His Majesty will be overjoyed to hear this."
I lowered my eyes slightly at the Right Censor-in-chief's repeated nods. She seemed to think I'd visited Shaolin out of pity for the cave-bound elders. That I'd coaxed them out with eloquent words and logic.
'Not at all.'
Until just days ago, I hadn't even known elders were in the cave. I hadn't tried to draw them out. They'd emerged on their own... and now roamed about...
'As long as the result is good?'
Complicated feelings aside, I tried to think positively. The merit sect in Zhili had normalized. They still bore responsibility for killing for future generations' sake, but at least the guilt of bloodied hands seemed overcome.
Anyway, it was good. Kkieak had saved Shaolin.