I’ll Protect It This Time, No Matter What! (4)
His head was cropped close, and a crimson cloth, so dark it verged on purple, was draped around his body.
He was unmistakably a monk, yet his robes were clearly different from Hye Yeon's.
A Lama monk?
Just as Baek Cheon was about to turn around with a questioning look, the monks who had come out of the tent folded their hands and began chanting a sutra in unison, their voices rising and falling like a song.
Then the one standing at the head smiled faintly and looked at them.
"Om mani padme hum. Even a passing brush of shoulders is fate, so to meet in a place like this must be an even greater bond. It is truly a pleasure to meet you."
"Ah…."
Baek Cheon, who had been at a loss for words in his confusion, quickly recovered and offered a martial salute.
"The pleasure is mine. I am Baek Cheon, second-generation disciple of the Mount Hua Sect of the Central Plains. These are my senior brothers and junior disciples."
"Mount Hua."
The Lama monk murmured the name softly, his eyes brightening.
"So, distinguished guests."
He folded his hands again and bowed. Baek Cheon returned the gesture with a deeper salute of his own.
I have no idea what’s going on.
It was baffling enough that monks had suddenly appeared on a grassland that seemed to have nothing to do with Buddhism, but what was even more absurd was that they were speaking such fluent Chinese despite looking nothing like Central Plains people.
Seeing the many questions flicker across Baek Cheon's face, the Lama monk smiled and supplied the answer with complete ease.
"We are monks of the Potala Palace."
"Ah!"
Baek Cheon let out a short exclamation.
Of all places, to run into people from the Potala Palace here.
They happened to be on their way back to the Central Plains after visiting the North Sea Ice Palace, one of the four outer-sea palaces, and yet they had now run into people from another one of those palaces.
It was coincidence to the point of absurdity.
"There may be no owner of these grasslands, but neither can those who came first force those who came after to stand aside. Please come inside. We will bring out hot tea and food for you."
"Mm… Then we shall accept."
Baek Cheon nodded.
They were not in such dire straits that they needed to be treated like beggars, but refusing in a situation like this would also be a breach of courtesy.
"Everyone, this way…."
As the man was about to lead the Mount Hua disciples inside, his gaze suddenly fell on Hye Yeon. He folded his hands with a deeply reverent expression.
Hye Yeon, too, returned the greeting with a far more solemn face than usual, bringing his palms together.
"Practice is not confined to peaceful temples alone. I am very glad to meet a monk seeking the teachings along the road in this way."
"Amitabha. Under the teachings of Buddha, how could there be another path? It is an honor to meet those so deeply cultivated."
The Lama monk smiled at Hye Yeon's reply.
"Please come this way. We have warmed the tent for you."
He guided the Mount Hua disciples toward the large tent at the center. Just as Chung Myung was about to follow with a bored expression, Baek Cheon grabbed his shoulder.
"Chung Myung."
"Yeah?"
"Will this be all right? I’ve never heard of the Potala Palace, one of the outer-sea palaces, traveling in and out of Mongolia. It might be better not to get mixed up in this…."
At Baek Cheon's worried words, Chung Myung snorted.
"We're already mixed up. What are you talking about, 'don't get mixed up'?"
"…."
"Besides… if they really wanted to, we couldn't run away anyway."
"…Huh?"
"Which is a relief, since they don't seem to mean us any harm."
Baek Cheon fell into thought for a moment after hearing Chung Myung's words.
Judging by the way Chung Myung spoke, it almost sounded as if he held them in rather high regard.
Of course, if anyone else had said that, it would not have been strange. But coming from Chung Myung—who looked down on every sect elder, every sect leader, and even the bishop they had faced at the Ice Palace—it was impossible not to be surprised.
"Come on. Take a look for yourself. I think there's someone important inside."
"…."
The Mount Hua disciples entered the tent with slightly tense expressions.
The Lama monk standing before them folded his hands toward the inside and spoke.
"Lama. I have brought the guests. They say they are disciples of the Mount Hua Sect of the Central Plains."
"Mount Hua, hm."
The Mount Hua disciples, meanwhile, were already thoroughly baffled by the scene spread out before them.
What is this?
There was a strange sense of incongruity.
In truth, it was not a particularly remarkable tent. Aside from the Lama monk who had guided them there, two other Lama monks and one child were simply sitting around the brazier at the center.
A child?
Baek Cheon quickly grasped the source of the discomfort he felt.
Every place where people sat had its own place of honor. And in a tent like this, the most important seat would be the one deepest inside, opposite the entrance.
Yet the one sitting there was not some aged monk, but a tiny child who looked barely old enough to have learned to read.
"Welcome."
The first to speak was not the child, but the old monk seated beside him.
"…Thank you for your hospitality. Thanks to your generosity in offering us a place to sit, we are able to rest our weary bodies for a little while after a long journey."
"Think nothing of it."
At Baek Cheon's words, the old monk smiled warmly. It was an exceptionally kind and gentle smile.
Baek Cheon had already met monks from Shaolin before. But the men before him were clearly different from the monks of Shaolin in feeling.
Is it because they don't have beards?
Unlike the Shaolin elders whose long white beards had left such a strong impression, the Lama monks did not grow beards. Their wrinkled faces without beards gave off something oddly unfamiliar.
"Please, have a seat here."
"Ah, yes…."
"Tsering."
"Yes!"
"Bring tea. Their bodies must have gone cold from the long journey."
"Yes, Lama."
The old monk wore an unclouded smile. It was a situation in which they should not let down their guard, and yet somehow, seeing that smile made their hearts ease despite themselves.
"Om mani padme hum."
The old monk chanted the six-syllable mantra in a sing-song voice, then smiled and spoke.
"It is a pleasure to meet the disciples of Mount Hua. I am one who follows the laws of Buddha, and the monks of Potala call me the Panchen Lama."
"Ah, yes…."
"P-Panchen…!"
"Hiiik! Panchen Lama!"
Just as Baek Cheon was about to answer calmly, a startled cry suddenly burst out behind him. Baek Cheon turned his head slightly.
Jo Gul had his mouth open so wide his uvula was practically visible, and Dang Soso behind him had clapped a hand over her own mouth with her fist.
What?
Then Chung Myung blurted out without warning.
"How'd a big shot like you end up all the way out here? Must be hard to get your butt moving."
"You little bastard!"
"Watch your tone, you bastard!"
Soso…
At least he's my senior brother, so maybe calling him that is a bit much…
But if Gul gets on him like that too….
Baek Cheon, absurdly finding himself in the position of defending Chung Myung, looked at Dang Soso's pale face and tilted his head. What on earth was a Panchen Lama for the two of them to react like that?
Then Dang Soso, who had approached on her knees, pressed close behind Baek Cheon and whispered very softly into his ear.
"Panchen Lama is the title for the second-in-command of the Potala Palace."
"Ah, I see… wha?"
Baek Cheon jerked to look at her again and widened his eyes as if they might split apart.
The second-in-command?
The second-in-command of the Potala Palace? Then that meant a vice palace master?
Baek Cheon's eyes went round as saucers as they snapped toward the Panchen Lama.
This man?
No matter how he looked at him, it was strange.
There had certainly been a sense of authority to the monks of Shaolin. Whatever one thought of them personally, no one could deny the solemn dignity lent by their profound Buddhist teachings and martial prowess.
Simply looking at them was enough to make one feel the depth of their cultivation.
But from the Panchen Lama standing before him now, he could not feel even a trace of that lofty aura of cultivation.
To be honest, he looked utterly ordinary.
Without the monk’s robes and shaved head, he might have passed for just another elderly villager anywhere in the world.
Having realized that this old monk was the very big shot Chung Myung had been referring to, Baek Cheon blinked several times.
Why is the Potala Palace's second-in-command here?
As if to answer Baek Cheon's question, Chung Myung narrowed his eyes and asked.
"You don't seem like the type to come all the way out to a place like this for no reason."
The Panchen Lama answered with a relaxed smile.
"Everyone has their own story."
"Can I ask what that story is?"
"It is nothing so grand."
"Hmm."
A smile of interest formed at the corner of Chung Myung's mouth.
Just then, the man called Tsering handed out cups and lifted the bronze kettle from atop the brazier. His movements while pouring the tea were neat and respectful.
Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.
Hot steam rose up. Perhaps the scent of the tea, seeping into their noses, had calmed them a little, because Chung Myung kept sipping at it again and again. It was a sight that would have made the sect leader clutch his chest if he saw it, after all the times he had offered Chung Myung tea only to be met with disappointment.
"Ah, this is nice."
"I'm glad it suits your taste."
It was truly a humble scene.
Even after revealing his identity, the Panchen Lama's manner did not change in the slightest from how it had been at first. And that despite the vast gulf between the young disciples of Mount Hua and the Panchen Lama of the Potala Palace.
"If it's difficult to speak of, I won't ask any further. I wasn't trying to pry."
At Chung Myung's words, the Panchen Lama's eyes widened slightly before he smiled faintly.
"It seems there has been a small misunderstanding. I did not mean that I could not speak of it, only that it truly is nothing particularly grand. Everything is relative, after all. What is immensely important to us may not be important to you, and vice versa."
Folding his hands and murmuring a short sutra, the Panchen Lama slowly looked over Chung Myung and the others one by one.
"Still, if you're curious, there is no need to hide it. I am simply carrying out the role entrusted to me, and these people are helping me with the work of Potala."
"Your role?"
"Yes."
The Panchen Lama smiled with crystal clarity.
"Those who walk the Buddha's path in the Potala Palace must all pursue their own understanding of the Dharma and devote themselves to saving all beings. But those who receive the title of Panchen Lama must also do something a little different."
All eyes were fixed on him now. The Panchen Lama continued in a calm, quiet voice.
"We search for the Dalai Lama."
"Pardon?"
Search for the Dalai Lama?
The Mount Hua disciples, not understanding at once, tilted their heads, and he kindly went on to explain.
"The law king of Potala, the Dalai Lama, is not a position one rises to through practice. It may be difficult for those who have come from the Central Plains to understand, but the one who becomes the Dalai Lama is decided from the moment of birth."
"From birth?"
"Yes. That is what the Dalai Lama is. And the title of Panchen Lama refers to the one entrusted with finding that Dalai Lama. Only after cultivating oneself over and over, until one is granted the Dharma Eye and can recognize the reborn Dalai Lama, can one truly become a Panchen Lama."
Baek Cheon's eyes shook violently.
He had inferred one thing from this conversation.
What reason could there possibly be for a Panchen Lama to make a personal journey all the way here from even farther away than the North Sea?
"T-Then you mean…?"
As if confirming Baek Cheon's suspicion, the Panchen Lama nodded pleasantly.
"Yes, that is correct."
Then he smiled and looked at the small child seated beside him. It was not the sort of look one would give to an ordinary child.
It held nothing but profound reverence and certainty.
"This one is none other than the incarnation of Avalokiteshvara, the living Buddha—the Dalai Lama."
"D-Dalai…."
Baek Cheon shut his mouth as if he could hardly breathe.
He had never heard the name Panchen Lama before today, but he had heard the name Dalai Lama countless times.
The Great Living Buddha.
The embodiment of Buddha's law, the law king of the Potala Palace said to protect Tibet, and the living Buddha made flesh.
"You're saying this kid is the Great Living Buddha?"
Even Chung Myung, who rarely flinched at anything, widened his eyes in rare surprise and stared at the child seated before him.
The child's gaze was impossibly deep and quiet.
With eyes so unlike his age, the boy was simply looking at Chung Myung without moving. His expression was impossible to read.