He Really Has No Shame, Damn It. (5)
The room was filled with a silence so complete it felt as if even a pin dropping would have echoed. Despite how many people crowded within those walls, not even the sound of breathing could be heard.
Everyone held their breath and looked only at Chung Myung and Beop Jeong.
Good heavens…
Baek Cheon found his fists clenching before he even realized it.
He had, of course, expected this much.
It was already an established fact that Chung Myung did not think well of Beop Jeong, and with this whole affair involving the Sapa, that hostility had only burned hotter. So Baek Cheon had guessed Chung Myung would never let this go, no matter that the other man was Beop Jeong.
But…
No matter what, he is the Abbot of Shaolin.
The Northern Dipper of the martial world. Shaolin.
What Jianghu warrior did not admire that name? Baek Cheon was from Mount Zhongnan, and he served Mount Hua now, but even to him, Shaolin was something sacred, something no one ought to trespass upon.
Yet the Abbot of that sacred place was now maintaining silence, unable even to refute the torrent of abuse pouring from his martial nephew’s mouth.
Who could have ever imagined he would live to see such a scene?
He knew he should stop it, but he could not bring himself to speak.
All he could do was hold his breath and try not to miss a single word of the exchange.
“This humble monk…”
After a long silence, Beop Jeong finally spoke.
“...simply failed to think of it. Had I thought of it in advance, I would naturally have gone to the Yangtze. This is simply—”
“Ah.”
Chung Myung cut him off with a short sound of mock realization.
“You would have gone to the Yangtze?”
“...Well, yes…”
“You would have rushed to the Yangtze, stopped the Namgung Clan from fighting the Sapa, handed Maehwado back over to them, and endured the humiliation of Shaolin bowing to the Sapa all over again?”
“……”
A clear sneer curved Chung Myung’s mouth.
“You?”
Beop Jeong shut his mouth again after forcing it open.
He had wanted to say something, but it would not come out, as if someone had clamped a hand over his mouth by force.
He had reflexively tried to answer yes, but even he had felt it.
He would never have done such a thing.
Would that man, who seemed to understand Beop Jeong’s own heart better than Beop Jeong himself, believe what Beop Jeong could not even believe in himself?
In the end, a bitter laugh slipped out of Beop Jeong’s mouth. There was no point trying to persuade him anymore.
“It seems the Abbot only studies the principles of Buddhism and knows nothing of the principles of the world. Since you don’t know, I’ll tell you.”
Chung Myung spoke with open sarcasm.
“You deal with the mess you made yourself.”
“……”
“You don’t run to someone else crying and asking them to clean up after you.”
At that moment, it was not Beop Jeong who could not suppress his anger, but Beop Gye. He could no longer bear to watch this young daoist speak to the Abbot of Shaolin as though lecturing a child.
“That is going too far!”
When Beop Gye snapped at him, Chung Myung slowly turned his head in that direction. Then, looking straight at him, he said, “Going too far?”
For an instant, a groan escaped Beop Gye’s lips. But he quickly composed himself and said in a soft, admonishing tone, “Of course Shaolin made a mistake. It is true that we erred. But the Abbot is trying to clean up this matter as best he can, is he not? It is easy to heap criticism upon others, but it is terribly difficult to set a wrong right. Why must you be so harsh?”
Chung Myung looked at Beop Gye silently for a moment, then let out a small, incredulous sound.
“Ah, I was wondering who it was. We’re acquainted, aren’t we?”
“……”
“We couldn’t even exchange proper greetings before parting ways on the Yangtze last time. How have you been?”
“Kh, khm.”
Beop Gye’s face reddened at once. For him, the word Yangtze was like an original sin that would never be cleansed.
“Clean up, you say. Clean up… Yes, fine, everything you’ve said is correct. But… what exactly have you been doing for the past three years, then, that now you’re trying so hard to clean things up? If you’d put your mind to it, you should have settled it all already.”
“Young man!”
“Huh. How strange.”
Chung Myung shook his head as though he truly could not understand.
“Becoming a monk doesn’t make you less of a person. So how can you have so little shame?”
“What did you just say…?”
“Ah, you must not understand when I speak indirectly. Then I’ll say it properly. Shut that mouth of yours, Senior.”
Beop Gye stared at him in dumbfounded silence, having lost all words.
He had known full well that the Mount Hua Sword Hero was a man who did not know restraint. But who could have imagined he would be this utterly without manners? There was a saying that when people were too stunned, they couldn’t even speak, and Beop Gye was exactly in that state now.
“Someone who tries to fix their mistakes is better than someone who only criticizes. That part is true. But you’re awfully comfortable saying that with your own mouth.”
“……”
“And what now? Clean up?”
Beop Jeong’s face had gone pale as he looked at Chung Myung, frightened by what else might come out of that mouth.
“Is that your idea of cleaning up? Coming here and begging us to fight alongside you?”
“……”
“So that’s what Shaolin calls cleaning up?”
Beop Gye lowered his head.
Harsh as it was, Chung Myung was not wrong. And Beop Gye, who was one of the key figures in the Yangtze massacre and bore responsibility for all that had happened, had no words, no matter what he might wish to say.
He still possessed a shred of shame.
“Step back.”
“...Abbot.”
“That will do.”
Beop Jeong looked quietly at Chung Myung.
Seeing the deep-rooted distrust toward Shaolin in those eyes, Beop Jeong let out a long sigh.
How had it come to this?
It could not be denied that the sect whose actions had most closely aligned with the great cause in recent years was Mount Hua.
And if the Mount Hua Sword Hero, practically the center of Mount Hua itself, harbored such deep distrust toward Shaolin, did that not say everything about Shaolin’s standing at present?
But even so, he could not retreat now.
“Shaolin…”
Uncharacteristically hesitant, Beop Jeong paused for a moment. Then he murmured Amitabha and continued.
“...is not perfect. Nor am I perfect.”
“……”
“Those who are not perfect inevitably make mistakes. We can bear the criticism that should fall upon us for the wrongs we have done. But… what I cannot endure is the suffering of the innocent because of the mistakes of Shaolin and myself.”
Chung Myung glared at him with cold eyes. Even so, Beop Jeong pressed on doggedly.
“Any conditions will do. Help us just this once. Without the Heavenly Alliance, the Yangtze will become a dry reed in the wind, ready to snap at any moment.”
Beop Jeong bowed his head again.
It was different from before, when he had bowed to Hyun Jong. Now he was bowing to Chung Myung.
Everyone watching bit their lips.
Chung Myung’s words were right. But Beop Jeong was truly laying everything down and asking them for help. If he had merely spoken of the situation and appealed to reason, no one would have been swayed.
But now he offered no argument at all, only a low, humble plea. That earnest appeal made not only Hyun Jong but everyone else look at him anew.
Perhaps…
Perhaps the situation really was so urgent that it could not be resolved without their help? If not, why would Beop Jeong bow so low and beg them like this?
Could the Abbot of Shaolin truly kneel and lower his head before a young disciple of another sect merely to preserve Shaolin’s strength? Was that really all there was to it?
But.
Only one person’s gaze did not change in the slightest. It did not even waver.
“The Abbot hasn’t changed at all.”
The heat in Chung Myung’s voice faded away. Now his words were calm, almost detached. Yet because no emotion remained in them, they sounded somehow even more chilling than all the insults he had hurled before.
“You’re saying you were wrong, that you regret it, but that all of this is for the people of the world and the common folk who will suffer, so we should set the past aside and help you.”
Beop Jeong flinched. Chung Myung was staring at him as though he could see straight through him.
“You think that if you just put on a show of repentance, bow your head a little, and ask nicely, fools like us will suddenly feel moved by some heroic spirit and throw ourselves in front of the arrows for you?”
“D-Daos…”
“Now I know for certain.”
“……”
“The Abbot isn’t a hypocrite. That’s why I hate you.”
Beop Jeong frowned.
He was not a hypocrite, and that was why Chung Myung hated him? What the hell did that even mean? Normally, people said they disliked someone because they were a hypocrite.
As though fully understanding that confusion, Chung Myung elaborated.
“A hypocrite at least knows what he’s doing. At the very least, he understands that he’s doing evil. But…”
Chung Myung’s frosty gaze bored into Beop Jeong.
“You’re not that kind of man.”
“……”
“The Abbot is a man who never once doubts that he is doing the right thing. A man who believes, without a trace of hesitation, that he is good.”
As he spoke, Chung Myung ground his teeth as though the words themselves tasted foul.
Yes, a hypocrite was someone like Heo Do-jin-in. At the very least, he was aware that he could do evil for the sake of his sect’s interests.
But not Beop Jeong.
Beop Jeong never doubted his own righteousness. No— even if he was suffering now, he did not doubt that, in the end, he would secure the result of righteousness.
At this very moment, Beop Jeong was surely convinced that persuading Mount Hua to join the war on the Yangtze was the path to saving the world.
Because he believed he was right, he did not hesitate.
Because he believed he was perfectly right, he could lower his head even to a boy barely grown.
To him, bowing to Chung Myung was nothing more than a sacred step toward a proper conclusion, one that would be reached through his own sacrifice.
I doubted.
Even while fighting for his life in the middle of that hellscape in the Hundred Thousand Great Mountains, Chung Myung had constantly doubted himself. Was this truly the right way? Had he truly made the correct choice?
Not just him, either. Chung Mun. No, everyone there must have doubted and doubted again.
But the ones who stood behind them and watched death from a distance did not doubt. They would have spat out words about noble sacrifice and simply considered it righteous to shove countless people into that hell.
Yes. Exactly like Beop Jeong now.
Men like that pitied others even as they drove them to death. They shed tears and yet never regretted a thing, because they never once doubted that they themselves were doing the right thing.
“Once was enough.”
The force pouring from Chung Myung slowly pressed down on Beop Jeong.
“Being played around by that filthy nonsense about doing things for the world, for the people, and dying for it all is already too much even once. Horribly too much.”
That pressure did not come from martial might. If it had been mere martial force, Beop Jeong would not have found it this oppressive.
Faced with a pressure of indescribable, hideous weight, Beop Jeong could not even think to exhale.
“As long as I’m alive, you’d better not think of using Mount Hua through that silver tongue of yours.”
Chung Myung’s quiet declaration made him look like a wounded beast growling low in its throat.
“Get out of here now. Or I’ll snap that fine neck of yours.”
The color drained from Beop Jeong’s face.