Chapter 175
Chapter 175
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 175
Chapter Title: A Conversation Over Tea
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Passing through the First Pillar Gate and walking down a path lined with cypress trees, the full view of the Shaolin Temple finally began to reveal itself.
“Hah! Yah!”
The first thing I saw was a group of novice monks, lined up in neat rows and columns on the plain outside the main gate, practicing their staff techniques.
They were basic trainees who had not yet been permitted to take their vows. They were likely the children of various families from all over the land.
And most of them would taste the bitter cup of failure and return home, for becoming a monk of Shaolin was no easy task.
The so-called Seventy-Two Arts of Shaolin.
People thought they were all different martial arts, but that was only half true.
Ah, this is the Iron Sand Palm!
…the admiration was for a simple hand-conditioning method.
Could it be the One Finger Diamond!
…that was just a finger-strengthening exercise.
Because people misunderstood these things and chattered on about them being martial arts, the bullshit saying that all martial arts under heaven originated from Shaolin came to be.
Jeonghwa had said that the Seventy-Two Arts were training methods. In other words, they were detailed training regimens designed to temper every part of the body.
I had even seen him train in person.
Hadn't the madman, who came to fight, insisted that he couldn't skip his training and demonstrated each one himself?
In truth, mastering even one of them was worthy of being called a martial art.
Who wouldn't be astonished to see someone pierce a rock with their finger without even using internal energy?
And they were indeed used as martial arts.
However, the true purpose of the Seventy-Two Arts, he had said, was to make the entire body as hard as a diamond, ultimately achieving the Diamond Body. That was why, he added, no Shaolin monk had ever mastered all seventy-two.
Weren't the Seventy-Two Arts increasingly difficult to train as one progressed, requiring a lifetime of dedication to master even one?
And the process was extraordinarily arduous.
There was a reason the goal was the Diamond Body, after all.
“Everyone, halt!”
As I walked on, reminiscing about Jeonghwa, the instructor monk leading the novices shouted forcefully.
The novice monks, who seemed quite well-trained, stopped in unison and whipped their heads around.
Startled me.
“We have a guest from the Demonic Cult! Make way for him.”
“Yes, sir!”
The novices parted to the left and right in their neat rows, creating a path down the center of the training ground.
…They didn't really need to part for me.
I could have just walked around, but now I had no choice but to walk through.
“The Demonic Cult…”
“He doesn’t have three heads and six arms.”
“He’s a person.”
“……”
The young, innocent novice monks judged Neung Un-bi as he passed before them, comparing him to the prejudices they had held.
You little brats, that’s rude.
You’re supposed to keep thoughts like that to yourselves!
Anyway, they had to go and make a path for no reason…
Neung Un-bi quickened his pace, letting the novices’ whispers go in one ear and out the other.
“Uncle-Master Gongmun.”
“Seokcheon, you are training diligently.”
“Thank you.”
The instructor monk, Seokcheon, bowed with his palms pressed together and looked at Neung Un-bi. Unlike Gongmun, his eyes were filled with hostility and a palpable sense of vigilance.
He even looked me up and down?
Well, perhaps this was the normal reaction. It made no sense for a Shaolin monk to be friendly toward the Demonic Cult.
Still, for a monk to show his emotions so easily… it seemed the Immovable Mind was not something anyone could learn.
“Seokcheon of Shaolin greets the Third Young Master of the Demonic Cult.”
“I am Neung Un-bi.”
Gongmun wore a puzzled expression as Neung Un-bi, in stark contrast to how he had treated Gongmun, simply stood tall and gave a slight nod.
“Well then.”
“……?”
When Neung Un-bi simply offered a greeting and turned away, Gongmun could not hide his curiosity.
“Patron Neung.”
“Yes.”
“Why has your attitude changed?”
“What has?”
“Well, with me, you were…”
“Why, isn't it the difference between a 'person' and a 'brute'?”
“Pardon?”
“Venerable Gongmun looked at me as if I were a Buddha, while that man Seokcheon looked at me like a street dog. I can only treat them accordingly.”
“...Ah!”
At Neung Un-bi’s words, Gongmun let out an involuntary gasp of realization.
As they say in Buddhism, to a Buddha's eyes, all beings are Buddhas, and to a mortal's eyes, even a Buddha is a mortal, is it not?
Neung Un-bi had acted exactly in accordance with Buddhist teachings.
Strong against the strong, weak against the weak.
It was easier said than done. Especially now, wasn't Neung Un-bi all alone in what was essentially enemy territory?
Yet he remained dignified, unshrinking.
Gongmun nodded, his face a mask of understanding.
“Haha, well now… It seems I have been studying the path of Buddha in vain. I have learned a valuable lesson.”
“It’s hardly something to call a lesson when it’s something everyone knows. More importantly, is there a shortcut?”
“A shortcut?”
“Yes. At this rate, it will take all day if I have to exchange greetings with everyone I meet.”
“Ah! I thought you came as a guest, so I intended to give you a heartfelt tour of Shaolin…”
“Let’s hurry.”
As Neung Un-bi quickened his pace, Gongmun swiftly followed.
But he doesn’t even know the way, yet he’s walking ahead… huh?
Gongmun couldn't hide his astonishment.
Wasn't Neung Un-bi heading toward the shortcut to the Main Hall?
Does he just know by instinct?
He truly was a man with a talent for surprising people.
Inwardly marveling, Gongmun saw Neung Un-bi’s back already distant and hurriedly quickened his own steps.
“Patron Neung! Let’s go together!”
* * *
The faint aroma of tea rose and seeped into every corner of the old wooden building.
Seated in meditation was an old monk, Jeongmyeong.
Seeing that he shared the same generational name as Jeonghwa, he was clearly his martial brother.
Jeongmyeong had dismissed the waiting elders and old monks, choosing to receive Neung Un-bi alone.
Neung Un-bi carefully studied the old monk, who sat smiling quietly at him.
The six distinct ordination scars on his wrinkled forehead seemed to speak to the depth of his enlightenment.
But even without them, he seemed impossible to read.
His eyelids drooped so much that his pupils were not visible, and from his smiling face, creased with a multitude of wrinkles, it was impossible to guess what he was thinking.
His very appearance was the Immovable Mind.
Neung Un-bi, watching Jeongmyeong, let out a soft chuckle and brought the teacup to his lips.
“This is fine tea.”
“Haha, I was worried we had nothing suitable to offer such a distinguished guest. I am relieved it suits your palate.”
Jeongmyeong nodded, but from the two eyes hidden beneath his eyelids, a sharp glint shone.
Why Shaolin?
As the Abbot, he couldn't help but probe the intentions of the Demonic Cult disciple who had appeared so suddenly.
He had told the Orthodox Murim Alliance and Gongmun that he was merely visiting as a guest, but how could there be no purpose to his visit?
And Neung Un-bi seemed to have a faint understanding of Jeongmyeong’s thoughts. Though he couldn't read his gaze or expression, it was clear the Abbot was scrutinizing him.
The fact that the monk who came to greet him was Gongmun, a monk of the ten precepts.
The disdainful look from Seokcheon and the whispers of the novice monks.
Atmosphere was such a thing.
It flowed down from the top and spread out subtly.
If the lower reaches of a river were polluted, wasn't it standard practice to trace the source upstream?
Although it wasn't outwardly expressed due to his mastery of the Immovable Mind, prejudice against the Demonic Cult surely resided in Jeongmyeong’s heart as well.
Neung Un-bi had to overcome that now.
For the sake of what he intended to do.
If he failed, he would be under Shaolin's constant surveillance, even if he had evaded the watch of the Orthodox Murim Alliance.
“By the way, did you know that there is a tea like this on Heavenly Mountain as well?”
“I have heard of it. The people of the Demonic Cult drink Snow Tea, do they not?”
“You know of it. Do you know its taste as well?”
“...Perhaps not. I have never had the chance to try it.”
“That’s fine. Most people from the Central Plains don’t know much about it.”
“……”
“However, they discuss its taste based on mere speculation.”
“Is that so?”
“Wouldn’t the Abbot be similar?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“They say things like it must be drunk cold because it grows in the snow, or that drinking it will cool one’s insides.”
“……”
“Just as people commonly say. In truth, the process of steeping tea leaves in boiled water is exactly the same.”
At Neung Un-bi’s low words, Jeongmyeong nodded. He understood why he had brought up Snow Tea.
Neung Un-bi was speaking of prejudice.
He was drawing a parallel between the tea, which people judged based on imagination without tasting it, and the disparaging remarks about the Demonic Cult made by those who had never seen it for themselves.
He also shamed Shaolin for its behavior toward him.
For ostracizing, doubting, and scrutinizing him based solely on the name of the Demonic Cult.
Was he not, himself, trying to discern Neung Un-bi’s intentions at this very moment?
“Haha, it seems Shaolin has committed a great discourtesy to you, Patron Neung. You must be displeased, but please be generous and understand. It is because we could only think based on rumors, without meeting you in person.”
“Not at all. I was merely speaking about tea.”
Neung Un-bi shook his head and smiled.
As expected of monks, they were accustomed to Zen dialogues and understood quickly, didn't they?
Moreover, despite having his mistake pointed out, he wasn't flustered in the slightest, remaining perfectly calm.
Then I’ll have to push a little further…
“However, in my opinion, teas like Longjing or Tieguanyin are inferior to this Shaolin leaf tea or the Heavenly Mountain Snow Tea.”
“……?”
“They are fancy, I admit. They taste good as well. But you must use fine vessels, and there is a certain etiquette to drinking them… Isn't that inconvenient?”
“Is that so?”
“Of course. But people don’t seem to know. That all tea is made through the same process.”
“Hmm…”
“Each has its own taste, its own charm… yet some say one is lacking and another is superior.”
Jeongmyeong watched quietly as Neung Un-bi took a sip of tea and gently set the cup down.
Simple tea and fancy tea.
The meaning contained within.
Jeongmyeong pondered the hidden meaning, mulling over Neung Un-bi’s words.
What was he trying to say?
There must be a reason, but Jeongmyeong, unable to grasp it immediately, replied in kind.
“Patron Neung speaks the truth. To be fancy, one must secretly consume many things.”
“Indeed. Isn’t it a pity? The sight of Tieguanyin and Longjing fighting to become even fancier.”
“……”
“It seems they have forgotten their original purpose—to warm the insides and, at times, to calm the mind.”
“……”
“Still, I am fortunate to be drinking this kind of tea at Shaolin. So how can I not be pleased?”
At that moment, Jeongmyeong burst into laughter. He had realized that Neung Un-bi was talking about the state of the Central Plains.
He was condemning it now.
He was saying that the Central Plains, which, like Longjing and Tieguanyin, had forgotten its true role in its quest for splendor and was only filling its own greed, was worse than the Demonic Cult you speak of.
And yet, Shaolin sat aloof, merely watching…
But how could one discuss reality when speaking in metaphors?
“Your views on tea are no less than those of a farmer. This humble monk has learned much.”
“Not at all. I have merely spoken of what I felt.”
“Alright, so much for tea. What do you intend to see at Shaolin, having come as a guest?”
“Would a martial artist have come all this way just to appreciate the ambiance of a temple?”
“...Do you wish to see the martial arts of Shaolin?”
“My master told me. When I come to the Central Plains, I may not see anything else, but I must see the martial arts of Shaolin.”
“The Heavenly Demon Emperor?”
“Yes.”
“Haha, I did not know he held Shaolin in such high regard.”
“It’s the truth. Who would dare to make light of a thousand years of history?”
“I understand. I will inform the children. I pray you see many things during your stay.”
“Thank you.”
The tea had grown cold, and the conversation had ended.
Just as he was about to leave, Neung Un-bi was struck by a sudden curiosity.
“By any chance, is Zen Master Jeonghwa here?”
“Hm? How do you know of my junior brother, Patron Neung?”
“Elder Jin San of Zhongnan mentioned him. He said there is a warrior monk named Jeonghwa at Shaolin…”
“Ah! He said you came to the Orthodox Murim Alliance together, did he not?”
“Yes.”
“Haha. Indeed, in their youth, they were very close. As if they were from the same sect.”
“May I meet him?”
“Now? He is staying in the Scripture Pavilion… I will tell him to stop by the guest hall.”
“Thank you. The tea was excellent.”
As Neung Un-bi rose from his seat and was about to depart with his palms pressed together, Jeongmyeong asked.
“Patron Neung.”
“Yes?”
“May I ask one thing?”
Jeongmyeong’s voice had become unusually heavy.
“Please speak.”
“If Longjing and Tieguanyin were famous in name only, no longer able to produce the flavor of tea… what would you do, Patron Neung?”
“……”
Neung Un-bi thought for a moment at Jeongmyeong’s question, then looked him straight in the eye and said.
“The tea of the Central Plains is for the Central Plains to handle. However, if I were the master, I would discard them. Anything that is useless.”