The Iron Net Sutra

A day had passed since the incident Myeongjeong had caused was resolved.

Within the Huashan Sect grounds, the Grand Training Ground stood packed with people.

At their head was Yeong-hwa, now recovered, with Hyeonsong and Hagun close behind him.

Yeong-hwa surveyed the assembled Huashan Taoists and spoke.

"Alright, everyone is here, yes?"

The Huashan disciples still could not properly hold themselves upright; their necks remained stiff and sore from Hyeonsong's blows. The elders who had managed to recover somewhat were helping Yeong-hwa instead.

Yeong-hwa took command with his silver bells in hand. Where he pointed, a vast circle lay drawn in salt.

"Please step into the formation drawn in salt over there!"

At his words the Huashan disciples clutched their necks and shuffled slowly toward it.

Then the disciple at the front twisted his face in fury and howled.

"What kind of outrageous nonsense is this!"

Yeong-hwa, wearing the look of a boy who had expected exactly that, called out to Hagun.

"Senior Brother!"

In an instant Hagun stepped the Taiji Green Pine Steps and appeared at the man's back.

Chaak—

Hagun, pouch in hand, flung its contents over him. Bright crimson adzuki beans scattered through the air.

"Kyaaaaaaah!"

The thrashing disciple cried out in horror and stumbled into the formation. Commotion flared among the others as well, but the elders and Hagun, all armed with bean pouches, put it down in moments.

Once every disciple was inside the salt circle, Yeong-hwa grumbled and picked up one of the jars waiting behind him. Inside was ox blood for gut rites.

"What a hassle this is…"

Muttering, he poured the blood over the salt strewn across the ground.

At once, eerie voices rose from within the quiet formation.

"Tsk. A pity. There is still so much to enjoy in the mortal world…"

"I have a wife who prays day and night that I return alive from the battlefield!"

"I am innocent! I was merely used!"

"Taoist Yeong-hwa, let me see the faces of my parents left alone—just once!"

When Yeong-hwa traced another vast circle in ox blood, the disciples inside began to thrash and struggle. Each of them mimicked someone else, parading the full range of human joy and grief.

One disciple laughed like a madman, cackling up at the sky.

"This is not the present world. You fools—this is Avīci Hell!"

Tears of blood, bright with ecstasy, streaked both his cheeks.

Another could not contain his rage; he shook from head to foot and pounded the ground with his fists again and again.

"How can a human being do such a thing! How…!"

The disciple beside him clutched an invisible figure to his chest and wailed.

"My daughter—my daughter—uwaaaaaah!"

At the edge of the formation one man wore the face of total surrender. He took an unseen hand and smiled desolately.

"It has been far too long a wait. I go now to meet you as well…"

When their voices layered together, it sounded as if different hells were howling from a single mouth. The Huashan elders froze at the grotesque spectacle.

Listening to those screams, Yeong-hwa finally lost patience and exploded.

"Enough!"

Disgust twisted his features as the agonized voices washed over him.

"Where do you think this is, that you lowly spirits dare mimic the living!"

He set the jar down and roared at the disciples drunk on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blood qi.

"You think this kind of game will work on me?"

At Yeong-hwa's furious shout the disciples fell silent in a single breath. As one, they bulged bloodshot eyes and fixed them on him.

"Not bad… heh heh heh…"

They moved as if they shared a single body.

"Ordinary ritualists collapse just from being shown this much of the human condition…"

Yeong-hwa sighed, face full of revulsion.

"Yeah, yeah. You're so great."

"A pity. Such a pity…"

As if resigning themselves, they tipped their faces to the sky and spoke with one mouth.

Yeong-hwa sighed at the sight.

"Please prepare!"

The words snapped the Huashan elders back to themselves; they hurried out of the Grand Training Ground and returned carrying several vast black iron nets.

Chwaak— chwaak— chwaak— chwaak—

Just as Yeong-hwa had asked beforehand, the elders flung the black iron nets over the disciples and covered them.

Dung— dung— dung— dung— dung— dung— dung—

Hagun settled beside Yeong-hwa, set down the bean pouch, and began to beat a drum.

Ting— ting— ting— ting— ting—

In time with the drum, Yeong-hwa's silver bells shook fiercely. He danced with them, circling the formation. His slender voice rang out across the Huashan grounds.

Matched to the song, the ox blood soaked into the salt began to writhe. It flowed into the circle and shaped itself into a single enormous character.

The character for Net.

The character blackened and poured forth light. Yeong-hwa's mantra continued without pause.

Yeong-hwa's dance steps climbed toward their peak. The Huashan disciples, as if resigned, bowed again and again toward the west and screamed with one voice.

Yeong-hwa's staggering dance stopped together with the taryeong melody. The Iron Net Sutra—the scripture used to bind or eradicate yao-ghosts, evil ghosts, and wicked ghosts—had reached its end.

He clasped both hands around the silver bells and lifted a prayer to heaven. The ox blood that had drawn the character Net of its own will rose into the air and soaked into the iron nets.

Chiiiiiiiiisss—

All at once the black iron nets flushed blood-red and crumbled to nothing. The Huashan elders stared in shock.

"L-look at that!"

"The iron nets Elder Han forged…"

"Is this even possible!"

A black radiance kindled in the Xuanwu pattern on the back of Yeong-hwa's praying hand.

Kraaaaaaaaaaaang—

Xuanwu descended behind him.

Saaaaaaaah—

Blood qi drained from the disciples' bulging eyes. Xuanwu opened its vast maw and greedily devoured every last shred of it.

"Uweeeeeeeeh—"

Starting with one man, everyone inside the formation retched violently. They vomited black blood as if trying to force something out of their bodies.

Clink— clink— clink— clink—

The sound of small glass shards striking the ground rang out one after another.

Thud—

At the sight of it Yeong-hwa collapsed where he stood. Xuanwu smacked its lips and regarded him steadily.

"Xuanwu, tell Lord Hyeoncheon Sangje that I ask for his help."

At those words Xuanwu thrust its face close. Yeong-hwa stroked the bridge of its nose as he went on.

"There's no more blood qi to give you today."

Xuanwu made a regretful face, dissolved into a handful of snow-wind, and vanished.

The moment Yeong-hwa's mantra ended, Hagun stopped the drum and rose from his seat.

"Yeong-hwa."

Using divine power had left Yeong-hwa pale and drained.

"Yes, Senior Brother."

"What about Lord Hyeoncheon Sangje?"

Yeong-hwa grumbled and pointed toward the Huashan Ancestral Shrine. When Hagun looked, he saw the Vermilion Bird deity coiled with its back twisted high.

"That damned Vermilion Bird won't bend its stubbornness, so what am I supposed to do?"

"Your lifespan…"

"I don't know either…"

Yeong-hwa sprawled flat on the ground in a great X.

"If we leave like this, Huashan will destroy itself without a guardian deity."

He sighed and gazed up at the clear Huashan sky.

"And even for the sake of my own lifespan, I can't abandon Huashan like this, can I?"

"Are the natures of the gods always this perverse?"

"It differs with each god."

Yeong-hwa shaded the warm sun with his palm and continued.

"The Vermilion Bird is the Red Emperor Deity of the South, and governs Fire among the Five Elements."

"I see."

"It is also the god who oversees summer."

He spoke slowly, choosing each word.

"It seems Lord Vermilion Bird enjoys human desire—the kind that resembles scorching summer and blazing flame—as if it were a game."

"Then is it no different from an evil god?"

Yeong-hwa gave a short laugh.

"Senior Brother, then do Taoists have no desires?"

What followed was calm, as if he were drawing up a truth that had long lain submerged.

"That the guardian deity of a Taoist sect is a god who governs desire… is that not itself a contradiction?"

His eyes were no longer those of a boy.

"Perhaps people were never meant to erase desire. Perhaps only by governing desire can they reach the Dao."

"That is…"

"We call ourselves Taoists, but don't we too live for our own desires?"

His expression said the answer was obvious.

"Some dream of becoming the greatest under heaven. Some chase empty renown. Others obsess over endless martial learning."

At Yeong-hwa's musing, Hagun was briefly at a loss for words.

"What matters is that, as Taoists, we must act on desire according to the standards of chivalry and righteousness."

"You're right."

"The moment that balance collapses, how would we be any different from the unorthodox sects or the Demonic Cult?"

Yeong-hwa narrowed his eyes and looked straight at Hagun.

"Don't forget that, Senior Brother!"

Under that look Hagun waved his hands as if a thief whose own feet had gone cold.

"Wh-why are you looking at me like that!"

"You know, don't you?"

"I don't, you brat!"

Flushing with embarrassment, Hagun grabbed both of Yeong-hwa's cheeks and tugged them for no good reason.

"Uwaaaaaah—"

When Yeong-hwa screamed, Hyeonsong hurried over in alarm. Hagun hastily gathered the drum, unfolded the Taiji Green Pine Steps, and vanished toward the Hall of Medical Harmony.

"Senior Brother is heading there again."

In the Hall of Medical Harmony lay Wol-yeon, who had yet to regain her senses. Hagun was nursing her at her side day and night.

Hyeonsong watched Hagun's retreating figure disappear, then asked Yeong-hwa casually.

"Yeong-hwa, what do you make of it?"

"A severe case… In the first place, Taoists who have entered a sect cannot marry, can they?"

"You're right."

"Does Huashan have different rules from our own sect?"

Hyeonsong shook his head weakly.

"Huashan is the same."

Yeong-hwa dusted himself off and rose as he answered.

"Once someone falls that deeply in love, there's no hope."

He stuck out his lower lip and clasped his hands behind his back like a little old man.

"They say late-blooming passion is the most terrifying—the old saying is never wrong, Sect Leader."

At that, Hyeonsong lowered his head. Yeong-hwa looked at him and offered what comfort he could.

"The Primordial Heavenly Worthy and the Tathagata must have their own arrangements."

"Can you see the road ahead?"

Yeong-hwa shook his head vigorously from side to side.

"Because of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Vermilion Bird's manifestation, the law of cause and effect has been twisted—I can't see anything at all."

"Isn't the divine power you normally use also a manifestation?"

At Hyeonsong's question Yeong-hwa scratched his head as he answered.

"When gods descend from the Heavenly Realm and intervene in the mortal world, they normally receive restrictions on their power."

"So that was the case."

"But the Vermilion Bird, to avoid that, contracted with Taoist Myeongjeong and manifested in a human body."

Yeong-hwa wore an expression of complete incomprehension.

"By burning one person's life, the Vermilion Bird sought to realize its own desire."

"How pitiful…"

When Yeong-hwa swayed for a moment, Hyeonsong steadied him.

"Lean on me."

"Thank you, Sect Leader."

Together they walked the Grand Training Ground, searching for the blood jade fragments the Huashan disciples had vomited up. Even in the black blood the fragments glittered with a blood-red radiance. Yeong-hwa carefully gathered each piece and slipped it into the salt pouch at his waist.

A third of the Huashan disciples had brought up blood jade fragments; the rest still clutched their stomachs. Yeong-hwa addressed the Huashan elders.

"Elders of Huashan, please send the unconscious Taoists to the Hall of Medical Harmony, and put the rest back in the dungeon."

"Understood, Taoist Yeong-hwa."

At his order the elders moved in perfect coordination. A short while later, once the Grand Training Ground stood empty, Yeong-hwa ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠caught his breath.

Hyeonsong asked him,

"How much longer do you think it will take?"

Yeong-hwa counted on his fingers as he answered.

"We'll probably have to remain at Huashan until winter."

He pointed with his chin at the single black iron net that remained.

"And there are no more iron nets left for the Iron Net Sutra."

He went over to the last net and felt it this way and that. Soon the corner of his mouth lifted.

"Sect Leader!"

"Speak, Yeong-hwa!"

"Where do the Huashan Sect and the Zhongnan Sect in Shaanxi Province get their swords supplied from?"

At the question Hyeonsong furrowed his brow and sank into thought.

"Now that you mention it, I've never heard that either."

He propped his chin and went on.

"Our own sect ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠commissions the Sichuan Tang Family directly to receive Songmun ancient swords…"

Meanwhile Yeong-hwa was turning the black iron net over and over in his hands.

"No matter how I look at it, there's an extraordinary blacksmith in Shaanxi Province."

"How do you know that?"

Yeong-hwa lifted the net.

"Even if it's only a net, something of this quality isn't easily made by just anyone."

Interest lit his face.

"When I lived on Mount Baekdu, I saw plenty of iron nets."

"You enjoyed hunting?"

"Yes. It was my father and grandfather's hobby."

He hefted the net again and clicked his tongue.

"An iron net this light yet this sturdy is a first even for me."

Yeong-hwa smiled brightly and pointed at Hyeonsong's sword scabbard.

"I have a feeling we're about to meet a new sword that suits you perfectly, Sect Leader."

At Yeong-hwa's bold claim, Hyeonsong tilted his head.