When the Snow of Sorrow Ceased
“The Beggar Sect follows righteousness and chivalry. Saving fellow orthodox martial artists is the greater matter….”
Yeon Pung-han’s expression said this was the most natural thing in the world.
“What are a few demonic cult lackeys compared to that?”
“Senior….”
The Dragon Head Branch Master gazed up at the clear blue sky through which heavy snow was falling.
“We are beggars. We have lived with the heavens as our blanket and the earth as our pillow!”
He smiled with gentle kindness.
“What meaning could mere achievements and fame hold for us?”
At Yeon Pung-han’s heartfelt words, tears fell from Paeng Un-ro’s eyes.
“This man has grown old. The title of Cheonhopaedo is wasted on him!”
“Thank you. Truly… thank you.”
Paeng Un-ro clasped his fists in respectful salute toward the beggars of the Beggar Sect.
The beggars who saw it floundered, not knowing where to put themselves.
“To abandon the pursuit of the Demonic Cult in order to stop the destruction of our clan—the Hebei Paeng Clan will never forget the grace of the Beggar Sect!”
Paeng Un-ro’s voice rang thunderously across Tianjin County in Hebei Province.
Wiping his tears with his sleeve, he spoke to the martial artists of the Paeng Clan.
“Receive the honored guests of the Beggar Sect.”
“Yes, Grand Elder!”
Paeng Un-ro surveyed the surroundings, assessing the Beggar Sect’s wounded.
“Inform the Medical Tiger Hall—deploy every physician and every medicinal resource to treat the brothers of the Beggar Sect!”
“Yes, understood.”
At those words the Dragon Head Branch Master slung an arm around Paeng Un-ro’s shoulders.
“We’ll impose on you for a short while.”
Paeng Un-ro’s face said it was only proper.
“It is a seven-day funeral. Rest here in comfort until it is done.”
Yeon Pung-han turned and shouted to the beggars.
“Did you hear that!”
“Yes, Branch Master!”
“This is a solemn funeral of the Paeng Clan.”
“We know!”
“Do not bring shame upon the honor of the Beggar Sect!”
“Yes, sir!”
The beggars strode proudly through the great gates of the Hebei Paeng Clan.
The Paeng martial artists prepared a place for them at one side of the great training ground.
Before long, servant women set out wine and food before the beggars.
They fell upon the meal with ravenous appetite.
As Paeng Un-ro and Yeon Pung-han walked slowly forward, Hyeonsong—who had been attending the guests—approached with open delight.
“Senior Guangzhou Dogae!”
“Cloud Darkness Sword!”
They clasped hands like old comrades reunited after long years.
Yeon Pung-han’s smile was warm.
“I heard some time ago that you had risen to Sect Leader of Wudang?”
“Though it shames me to say it, that is so.”
“And you have at last reached the Transcendent Realm!”
“My learning has been late….”
“Late, this man says!”
Yeon Pung-han looked upon Hyeonsong’s rejuvenated face and recalled the past.
“You look exactly as you did during the Great Demon-Slaying War!”
Chuckling, he threw an arm around both Paeng Un-ro and Hyeonsong.
“Well then—I would like to offer my condolences as well….”
Paeng Un-ro guided Yeon Pung-han toward the ancestral burial grounds.
“This way.”
“Hu-gae!”
“Yes, Master.”
Baek Un-so, who had been eating with gusto, limped over to the Dragon Head Branch Master.
“Stop stuffing your face for a moment. Represent the Beggar Sect and pay your respects first.”
“As you say.”
Under the guidance of Paeng Un-ro and Hyeonsong, the Dragon Head Branch Master and Hu-gae offered their condolences at the ancestral mountain.
Then they returned to the great training ground.
Yeon Pung-han asked Paeng Un-ro carefully.
“If I may ask….”
“It is all right, Senior.”
“Has the bloodline been cut?”
“Fortunately my eldest son left a descendant.”
“Truly—that is fortunate.”
Guided by Yeong-hwa and Hagun, they took the seats of honor overlooking the funeral bier in the great training ground.
Hu-gae Baek Un-so went back down to the bier with Hagun.
Yeong-hwa set cups before them and poured wine with careful respect.
Watching him, Yeon Pung-han burst into hearty laughter.
“The future of the Wudang Sect looks bright!”
“You flatter me, Senior.”
Yeong-hwa spoke carefully.
“When your conversation is finished, please give me a word.”
Paeng Un-ro looked at him with curiosity.
“Daoist Yeong-hwa, are the rites not already concluded?”
Yeong-hwa smiled faintly.
“One ceremony remains—for the sake of the Hebei Paeng Clan.”
He stepped down from the seats of honor and offered a polite bow.
Then he approached Baek Un-so, who was drinking arm-in-arm with Hagun.
“Hu-gae-nim!”
“Ah, really now. Don’t use such formal language with a beggar!”
“Just call me comfortably Brother Baek Un-so. Why the honorifics for a beggar?”
“Then….”
Baek Un-so pulled Yeong-hwa by the arm.
“Sit, Daoist Yeong-hwa.”
He set a cup before Yeong-hwa.
Hagun looked horrified.
“Yeong-hwa is still only fifteen, you fool!”
Baek Un-so waved a dismissive hand.
“Everyone learns around that age, my friend!”
Glug-glug-glug—
Wine filled Yeong-hwa’s cup.
He drained it in one swallow.
“Khhhuuuh—”
“How is it?”
“Far too bitter.”
“There will come a day when it tastes sweet.”
Yeong-hwa looked Baek Un-so over carefully.
At the beggar’s waist hung a begging bowl, a wine gourd, and bamboo clappers.
“Bamboo clappers!”
At Yeong-hwa’s admiring cry, Baek Un-so took them out with a puzzled look.
The clappers were three or four thin bamboo plates strung together—an instrument.
“These? Essential tools for a beggar’s begging.”
Baek Un-so called another beggar.
“Hasan!”
“Yes, Brother!”
“Did you bring the Lotus Falling?”
“Of course!”
The beggar drew from his waist an instrument of bamboo tubes strung with strings.
“Shall I play a tune?”
“Wait a moment.”
Baek Un-so turned a curious gaze on Yeong-hwa.
“Daoist Yeong-hwa, why are you looking for instruments?”
“Brother, I need your help.”
“Eh? Me?”
Yeong-hwa leaned in and whispered quietly.
When he finished, Baek Un-so grinned.
“That’s our specialty, isn’t it?”
“I leave it to you, Brother.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Then—on the final day of the seven-day funeral.”
“Understood. I’ll tell the brothers.”
Yeong-hwa and Baek Un-so clinked cups and smiled.
Hagun wore a thoroughly bewildered expression.
The funeral rites of the Hebei Paeng Clan proceeded smoothly.
Yet everyone remained sunk in grief, speaking little, only tilting their cups.
The final day of the seven-day funeral arrived.
A poignant full moon rose over the Hebei Paeng Clan.
Though stars embroidered the clear night sky, the heavy snow showed no sign of stopping.
Paeng Un-ro emptied cup after cup while listening to the conversation between Hyeonsong and Yeon Pung-han.
Hyeonsong asked Yeon Pung-han,
“Has all been well with the Beggar Sect?”
“Well, as for that….”
The Dragon Head Branch Master bit his lip.
“The elders have been a bit strange.”
“Those elders are all your old friends, are they not?”
Yeon Pung-han wet his lips with wine and answered.
“Whether their hearts are wounded or they’ve simply gone senile, they take no disciples and have all entered closed-door cultivation.”
“What?”
“It puzzles me as well.”
Yeon Pung-han stroked his chin.
“I simply cannot understand what has driven the elders into such a frenzy over martial arts.”
Hearing this, Paeng Un-ro’s eyes sharpened.
“Could it be….”
“It is not that, Cheonhopaedo.”
Paeng Un-ro sighed and refilled Yeon Pung-han’s cup.
“Coming from Senior Guangzhou Dogae, I can only believe it.”
Seeing Paeng Un-ro’s trembling hand, Yeon Pung-han looked worried.
“You’re drunk, man.”
Paeng Un-ro raised a hand and pointed beyond the seats of honor.
“Do you see it?”
“The heavy snow?”
“The resentment of my son and grandson who have gone to the afterlife is so bitter that it refuses to cease.”
Tears welled in Paeng Un-ro’s eyes.
“It is all my fault.”
“This man….”
Yeon Pung-han watched Paeng Un-ro break into open sobs and dared not offer hollow comfort.
He knew the grief of a man who had lost both child and grandchild was too vast for words.
Yeong-hwa whispered something into Hagun’s ear.
Hagun trudged off somewhere.
There, carefully prepared, waited a drum and drumsticks.
Baek Un-so tossed back more wine and asked Yeong-hwa,
“Yeong-hwa, can Hagun even play the drum?”
“You will be surprised when you see.”
Yeong-hwa rose to change clothes.
“Brother, I’ll see you shortly.”
“All right!”
Yeong-hwa unfolded the Cloud Stepping Art and vanished in a blur.
He returned almost at once, now clad in vibrant, multicolored silk robes.
With Yeong-hwa’s appearance came the sound of the drum.
Boom—boom—boom—boom—boom—boom—boom—
Yeong-hwa entered the center of the great training ground, silk robes swirling.
Beside him Hagun took his place, beating the drum.
Clack—clack—clack—clack—clack—clack—
Following Yeong-hwa, the beggars formed ranks at the heart of the training ground.
In time with the drum, the bamboo clappers of the Beggar brothers rang out bright and clear.
Deeply drunk, Paeng Un-ro staggered to his feet.
“What is this?”
Beggars carrying Lotus Falling instruments entered next and plucked the strings.
Drum, bamboo clappers, and Lotus Falling blended into one.
A music both lively and heartrending spread through the Hebei Paeng Clan.
Yeong-hwa flung his long sleeves wide and began to speak.
“Originally, a funeral is the path by which the departed soul casts off the karmic burdens of this world and journeys to the Western Pure Land.”
Flutter—flutter—
His twin sleeves unfurled through the air.
“If those who remain in this world grieve so deeply, how must the hearts of the departing souls feel?”
Yeong-hwa’s clear voice carried in every direction.
“Can they truly lay down their worries and leave this world?”
At his words the beggars cried out as one.
“Well said!”
Yeong-hwa drew the spirit blades from his waist.
Two mid-length short swords settled into his hands—the Divine General Knives.
He began to strike the blades together.
Clangjang—clangjajang—clangjajajang—
The ringing of steel joined the drum, clappers, and Lotus Falling, heightening the fervor.
Yeong-hwa’s body spun, blooming into a brilliant flower of motion.
Carried on the drum’s rhythm, his song rose into the night sky.
This Sahā life we clung to so tightly
Is but the dream of a single night
All distinctions of self and other
Were emptiness from the very beginning
Every feeling that binds and tangles
Becomes provision for the road you walk
By the affinity of the Buddha’s name we chant
Release them all without remainder
As Yeong-hwa’s spinning quickened, the instruments raced to match him.
Paeng Un-ro began to smile through his tears at the shaman’s lament.
Hyeonsong gently patted his back in comfort.
Yeon Pung-han seized a wine jar.
Glug—glug—glug—glug—
He drained it in one long draft, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and spoke to Paeng Un-ro.
“Today I shall revel for the future of the Hebei Paeng Clan!”
Paeng Un-ro answered in a trembling voice.
“Senior Guangzhou Dogae….”
“Is that not the whole life of a beggar?”
Yeon Pung-han stepped down from the seats of honor and shouted,
“We must earn the meal we have eaten at the Hebei Paeng Clan!”
The beggars answered as one.
“That’s right, Branch Master!”
Chajajang—chajajang—chajang—
Yeong-hwa’s Divine General Knives struck sparks that lit the night of the Paeng Clan.
Yeon Pung-han appeared at Yeong-hwa’s side.
As if he had been waiting, Yeong-hwa paused his lament for a moment.
Then a new song poured from his lips.
You came empty-handed
And empty-handed you depart
What still binds you so tightly
That you cannot be reborn in the Pure Land?
With one heart we
Follow the song we chant
Untie every knot of resentment
As the hell realms crumble away
With the utmost sincerity
Escape the sea of suffering of the Three Realms
And in Amitabha’s Pure Land
Be reborn in the highest grade of the highest birth
Yeong-hwa danced, five-colored silk robes swirling.
Opposite him, Dragon Head Branch Master Yeon Pung-han danced with his ragged wind-torn robes flying.
At the sight people laughed and wept and emptied their cups.
Sweat-soaked, Yeong-hwa cried out to the gathering.
“Everyone—pray for the future and peace of the Hebei Paeng Clan!”
At his call the people rose and clasped their fists toward Paeng Un-ro.
“Grand Elder, you must endure!”
“The Hebei Paeng Clan does not end here!”
“We will stand with you!”
Under their encouragement Paeng Un-ro could not stop his tears; he returned their salutes with humble respect.
Yeon Pung-han and Yeong-hwa danced on, shoulders rising and falling in joyful rhythm.
The heavy snow that had seemed endless slowly began to cease.
The full moon enfolded the Hebei Paeng Clan in its gentle light, and the poignant song continued to cover the people like soft silk.
Above the Hebei Paeng Clan, the snow of sorrow finally stopped completely.
Beneath the moonlight the burial mounds shone quietly, as though they had drawn a new breath.