Damn, It’s Good to See You! (2)
“Thank you so much!”
The Potala monks, who had been busily making their own preparations, smiled back at the Mount Hua disciples who had finished first and were now offering their farewells.
“Looks like you’re ready to depart.”
“...There wasn’t much to prepare, really.”
Baek Cheon gave a slightly embarrassed laugh. They had been sleeping in the monks’ tents, so there had been no need to unpack anything, and all they’d done was throw a few bundles together. The only extra thing they’d made sure to bring was plenty of water.
“Thank you for welcoming tired travelers so warmly.”
“Think nothing of it.”
The monk called Chan-in folded his hands in front of him, representing the others.
“Then, please travel safely...”
That was when it happened.
“Heave-ho!”
“Huh?”
At the sudden sound, Baek Cheon turned around. Chung Myung was yanking baggage out of the cart.
What the hell is he doing all of a sudden?
Everyone watched him with puzzled eyes. Chung Myung pulled out a large sack of grain from the top of the load, then strode over and set it down in front of the monks.
“Take this.”
“...What is it?”
“Just mixed grains. Eat them on the road.”
Baek Cheon’s eyes went wide. Not just him—the other Mount Hua disciples’ mouths dropped open so far it looked like their jaws might unhinge.
My God.
Chung Myung giving away his own stuff?
Did the sun rise in the west?
Of course, it wasn’t as if Chung Myung never gave anything to others. Every now and then—very, very occasionally—he would part with something of his own.
But that only happened when there was some benefit in giving it away, or when the other party was truly weak and in a desperate situation.
What possible benefit could there be for Chung Myung in making an offering to the monks of Potala Palace, people he might never even see again?
“We couldn’t possibly. There’s no need...”
“Take it.”
Chung Myung glanced toward the Great Buddha, who was quietly tidying up the tents.
“From the amount of baggage you’ve got, it doesn’t look like you packed a lot of food. You need something to eat on the way back. You won’t be receiving alms on these grasslands, either. And besides...”
“...”
“Maybe not for adults, but kids should eat plenty.”
At that, Chan-in gave an awkward smile.
“Then we’ll gratefully accept it.”
“Yeah.”
Chung Myung turned back with a wave, then tilted his head at the disciples staring at him with gaping mouths.
“What?”
“...You’re not sick or something, are you?”
“...”
“Let’s get back to Mount Hua quickly. If you keep acting like this, you’re really going to be in trouble.”
“Sasuk! Let me take your pulse just once!”
What the hell was wrong with them?
Chung Myung glared, but Baek Cheon reached out and forcibly pried his eyes wide open, up and down.
“...Your eyes seem fine...”
“Why are you checking my eyes?”
“When someone’s gone mad, the eyes change first.”
“Ah...”
Chung Myung let out a resigned sigh.
“...Fine. Just play with it and put it back where it belongs.”
You damn fools.
Just then, Panchen Lama, who had been finishing the tents, came out to see them off with the Great Buddha and the other monks.
“Om mani padme hum.”
Having recited the six-syllable mantra, Panchen Lama smiled gently.
“It is a long road back to the Central Plains. Please take care on the way.”
“It’s nothing compared to Tibet. May your own journey be free of mishap.”
Baek Cheon accepted the greeting on behalf of everyone and returned a deep salute.
“Then.”
The Mount Hua disciples climbed onto the carts one by one. Hye Yeon, who remained at the end, pressed his palms together toward Panchen Lama.
“I regret that we had no time to seek your instruction.”
Panchen Lama answered with a gentle smile.
“If the Dharma is truly on that path, what use are the feeble words of one who has not awakened to it? Though our roads are different, are we not still headed toward the same destination? That alone is enough.”
“I shall keep those words deeply in my heart.”
Hye Yeon bowed once more and turned away. Once he had climbed aboard as well, the cart finally began to move.
“Thank you!”
“See you again next time!”
Everyone waved brightly as they pushed the cart forward. Perched atop the piled luggage, Chung Myung stood with his arms crossed and looked down at the Great Buddha.
Sure enough, the expressionless Great Buddha was quietly watching him.
Why...?
“Tch.”
Chung Myung huffed for no reason at all and whipped his head away. The cart carrying him began to cross the grasslands, moving farther and farther into the distance.
Panchen Lama watched the cart shrink away, then began to chant a verse like a song. As he started, the other monks joined in one by one.
After closing his eyes to bless their departure, Panchen Lama turned his gaze toward the Great Buddha.
The little child’s eyes were so deep no one could possibly guess what thoughts lay within them.
“What do you see, Master?”
At the low question, the Great Buddha, who had been silently watching the cart, closed his eyes and brought his hands together.
“A thorn road.”
“...”
“A thorn road that will endure for as many kalpas as it takes. I saw a darkness that admits no light.”
“Master...”
Then, after quietly reciting a mantra, he murmured with an unreadable expression.
“He is like a candle that burns itself to light the darkness. But a candle is only ever meant to be consumed, until at last the wick is gone and the flame dies.”
“...”
“May there be others to light the way for him.”
Watching the Great Buddha enter meditation with his eyes closed, Panchen Lama gave a low, troubled hum.
It was because he had remembered the words the previous Great Buddha had left behind before entering nirvana.
The demon will return. Bearing the karma of ten thousand ages, a demon will howl within the river of affliction.... If he is not stopped, the world will be dyed in darkness without a single point of light.
Panchen Lama’s heavy gaze followed the cart, which was now so far away it was almost no longer visible.
One who lights the darkness.
But could he really illuminate, all alone, the darkness that would swallow the world?
“Affliction. Always affliction.”
He shook his head and bowed quietly to the Great Buddha.
“Let us go. It is a long journey.”
“Yes.”
The Great Buddha, whose face had somehow returned to that of a clear-eyed child, turned away with calm movements.
“I feel strangely, unbelievably solemn.”
“Right, Sasuk?”
As the cart rolled onward, Jo Gul quickly agreed with Baek Cheon’s muttered remark.
“It really did feel different. Someone who’s piled up that much virtue seems to purify people no matter what path they follow.”
Jo Gul was more worked up than usual, clearly because Panchen Lama had left a strong impression on him.
He was normally stingy when it came to praising others, yet now he was speaking with unusual excitement.
“Up until now, every place outside the borders we’ve been to had this weird, unique feel to it, so I thought Potala Palace would be the same.”
“...That’s because the other places are the problem, isn’t it?”
“Anyway.”
Beast Palace, at best, could not be called normal, and North Sea Ice Palace, contrary to what they’d heard, had turned out to be an eerie place in its own right.
But Potala Palace, unlike the rumors that said it was full of strange monks, had felt like a place where people truly gathered to study the Dharma.
“How can it be so different...”
“Exactly. They’re all Buddhist monks, aren’t they?”
Everyone’s eyes slowly shifted to Hye Yeon.
His face instantly flushed red.
“D-don’t slander the Abbot! It is only that the roads are different and the directions are different! To cultivate oneself is a merit for one lifetime, but to guide and lead countless others is a merit for ten thousand lifetimes!”
Seeing Hye Yeon defend the Abbot with such heated fervor, his face reddened and voice raised, Baek Cheon muttered under his breath,
“...We didn’t even mention the Abbot.”
“Yeah... Hye Yeon sounds like he thinks something’s different too.”
“We were talking about Hye Yeon...”
“Hic...”
Hye Yeon, who had accidentally insulted the Abbot himself, stared at them in horrified disbelief, then clutched his chest and made a strangled noise.
“I-I didn’t mean to say...”
At his side, Jo Gul, who was helping pull the cart, reached out and patted his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Monk.”
“That’s right. Different things are just different.”
“I’m telling the Shaolin Abbot on you.”
Hye Yeon’s eyes began to glisten.
You demons.
Forget affliction and all that nonsense—because of these demons, he couldn’t even meditate. So this was what it had meant when the Buddha sat beneath the Bodhi tree and the demons came to disrupt his cultivation!
“Amitabha! Amitabha! Be gone, demons!”
“Quit wasting time chanting and pull the cart properly.”
“Grrr...”
Meanwhile, Chung Myung, who was still sitting atop the luggage, listened to the Mount Hua disciples’ conversation and then flopped backward onto the pile.
If it had been any other day, he would’ve jumped in and started heckling them, but the words he had heard last night—and the conversation he’d had with the monks—kept turning over and over in his head.
Lying there and staring up at the sky, Chung Myung soon smiled faintly.
Come to think of it again, I have no idea what they were talking about.
Who cares? Damn it.
Maybe some sage with lofty virtue would understand the subtle meaning behind Panchen Lama’s words, but Chung Myung had never been especially close to things like the Dao or enlightenment in the first place.
And right now, that wasn’t what mattered.
What mattered was building up Mount Hua and making the Heavenly Alliance even stronger so they could stop that bastard Heavenly Demon, wherever he might be, doing whatever the hell he was doing.
Worrying about things like that can wait until afterward.
Having neatly sorted out his thoughts, Chung Myung suddenly sat up and shouted,
“A slug would crawl faster than this! Can’t you go any faster? There isn’t even snow piled up anymore, so why are you moving like this?”
“...There really is a demon after all.”
“Don’t say that, Sasuk. Even demons would run away if they saw that bastard. Why are you pinning demons on him?”
“Agreed.”
Watching the Mount Hua disciples grumbling under their breath, Chung Myung broke into a wide grin.
“Want me to show you what a real demon looks like?”
“Huh?”
“Heave-ho!”
Chung Myung jumped lightly down from the baggage pile and perched himself on the front of the cart.
“Looks like you’ve gotten a bit too relaxed if you’ve got time to babble.”
“W-what?”
“This is all training, you know. If it’s easy, then it isn’t training. If it’s easy, what kind of training is that? The harder the training, the better!”
“Wh-what are you doing... Ack! You bastard!”
In an instant, the cart became twice as heavy.
Even though the cart had stopped, Baek Cheon, unable to rein in the force of his own movement, slammed into the handles and let out a scream. And he wasn’t the only one—groans exploded from all around them.
“M-my back!”
“Agh! My ankle’s going to snap, my ankle!”
“That crazy bastard again!”
There was madness in Chung Myung’s eyes.
“Training! More training! The Demonic Sect is running wild and you’re this weak—how the hell are you supposed to survive?! By the time we reach Mount Hua, I’ll have made your bodies twice as hard! Run!”
“You rotten bastard!”
“What the hell is the ghost doing? Why isn’t it dragging that bastard away?”
Moans of agony poured out like a waterfall, but Chung Myung only poured more force into the internal energy driving the cart’s Thousand Pound Anchor technique.
Though they groaned under the weight, the Mount Hua disciples and Hye Yeon hauled the cart forward with all their might.
What matters is making Mount Hua stronger.
The age of chaos was coming.
In that harsh new era, the only thing that could protect you was your own strength. Whatever method they used, Mount Hua had to become far stronger than it was now.
And!
So do I.
Back when he’d been in his prime, he could’ve handled that half-baked Bishop on his own, but this time he’d had to wager his life in the fight. Worse still, he’d needed the help of his fellow disciples.
At this rate, there was no way they could face the true Bishops of the Demonic Sect, let alone Heavenly Demon himself.
“We have to get stronger. Stronger than we are now.”
When Chung Myung murmured those words under his breath, the disciples glanced back at him. But Chung Myung, already lost in thought, didn’t seem to notice their stares.
“...”
After exchanging looks, everyone seemed to reach the same silent decision and gripped the cart’s handles so hard their hands went white.
“Let’s go!”
“All the way to Mount Hua in one shot!”
“Damn it, it’s training! Training!”
“Run.”
With their jaws clenched, everyone began to pull with everything they had left in them. The cart, which had become twice as heavy, now raced across the grasslands at twice the speed it had before.
Across the North Sea, where the pure white land stretched out like a dream, and across the grasslands, where the yellow earth spread all the way to the edge of the horizon.
Back to the place they had come from.
Back to the place whose sheer cliffs had somehow become familiar.
Toward Mount Hua.