So This Is the Dignity of the High Buddhist Orders
"You insolent beggar-monk! Do you even know where you are, shooting your mouth off like that?"
"Has a fallen Buddhist order come all this way just to kick up a fuss?"
"This wondrous art can convert the people of the world. What, exactly, is the problem?"
"The world is full of fools who cannot awaken to the truth. Do you mean to preach the sutras to every last one of them?"
The monks of the Mahavira Hall began to heap their scorn on Bo Do. To Yi Yeok's eye, every raised voice belonged to Tasa Temple; the monks of Gwanseong Temple and Three Lives Temple only watched, and held their tongues.
Bo Do laughed, loud and easy.
"If the very models of the truth are greedy and filthy, what meaning is there in striving after truth at all? You chase power and a life of luxury, and for that you do nothing but claw at one another for authority. How dare you claim you have awakened?"
Beop Gong, abbot of Tasa Temple, quietly intoned Amitabha. In an instant the Mahavira Hall fell silent.
Beop Gong spoke.
"Then Venerable Bo Do means to favor us with a teaching."
The tone was gentle, but a keen edge lay coiled inside it.
"Today I brought a heretic with me. I'll say it plain: the Conversion Art will not work on him."
"Is that so?"
"And if you cannot convert him, how about discarding the Conversion Art?"
Beop Gong's gaze slid to Yi Yeok.
"That one?"
"That's right. If you can convert him, this humble monk will take his own life in apology. But if you cannot handle even a single heretic, then the Conversion Art ought to be abolished, shouldn't it?"
Every monk turned to study Yi Yeok, yet he looked like nothing more than an ordinary heterodox cultivator. He had swallowed a sarira and driven the Sacred Blood Lotus Bodhi Seed into his heart, but with the Hidden Soul Divine Spirit Art fully deployed, not even his Buddha-nature—nor any other aura—could be glimpsed.
"Will you accept the proposal?"
Beop Gong was silent for a moment. He understood well enough what Bo Do intended. The Conversion Art was the fruit of Tasa Temple's painstaking research, and if the temple kept the technique to itself, it would plant itself immovably at the very peak of the high Buddhist orders. Gwanseong Temple and Three Lives Temple would never stand by and watch. Greed would mean civil war among the upper orders, which was precisely why this gathering had been arranged—to share a portion of the art. And with the monks of Three Lives and Gwanseong looking on, he could not refuse Bo Do's proposal.
Those monks kept their silence and had no intention of rashly taking Tasa's side. Daelim Temple had declined, but the four ascetic elders who remained were no easy foes.
After a silence that stretched too long, Beop Gong forced a smile.
"Since Venerable Bo Do of Daelim Temple has raised an objection to this Conversion Art, I will accept his proposal."
He examined Yi Yeok closely. A faint Buddha-nature could be sensed, but it was nothing worth noting. Bo Do had to know the man could never break the Conversion Art. What he was scheming, Beop Gong could not tell.
Bo Do spoke to Yi Yeok.
"Come forward."
Buddha-light gathered in Beop Gong's eyes as he slowly opened his mouth. In that instant a majestic sutra-chant crashed outward and struck Yi Yeok's soul.
Yi Yeok was more than a little shaken; his whole soul seemed to pitch and roll. But the moment he drove the Hidden Soul Divine Spirit Art to its limit, his true soul slipped deftly clear of the Conversion Art's erosion, and what Buddha-light remained was quietly broken down by the Sacred Blood Lotus Bodhi Seed and the sarira seed.
Beop Gong's brow tightened. His lips moved in a blur, spitting golden characters. The force took the shape of a lotus, then of a vast dragon, and coiled around Yi Yeok.
Even Bo Do could not hide the tension in his eyes. Yet Yi Yeok only wore a blank look, pupils rolling—he did not seem to have taken any real blow.
A tea's time passed. Unable to restrain his impatience any longer, Beop Gong roared.
"Shatter!"
The tremendous force packed into that sound-wave made Yi Yeok stagger. His soul lurched hard, and through the gap the Buddha-light of the Conversion Art seeped in.
Bo Do took a step forward.
"What do you think you're doing? You may use only the Conversion Art!"
Light wreathed Bo Do's body, and at the same time a powerful force poured into Yi Yeok. It settled the blood qi boiling up in him and held together a soul that had been about to collapse.
Yi Yeok could not hide his shock. The realm of a high Buddhist order, witnessed for the first time, was enough to frighten even him. A powerhouse at the level of a Great Daoist Master would have had his soul shattered to pieces by Beop Gong's true words. Had Bo Do not stepped in, Yi Yeok would have died just now without so much as a corpse left behind.
Abbot Beop Gong's face twisted as he glared at Yi Yeok. He simply could not understand it.
"There is something wrong with that man!"
The abbot rose from his seat and was in front of Yi Yeok in a flash.
"What problem do you mean?"
Bo Do's hand was already resting on Yi Yeok's shoulder. If Beop Gong meant to harm the boy, he was prepared to spend everything he had to keep him safe. Beop Gong did not dare strike. Abbot of Tasa Temple or not, making enemies of Daelim Temple's four ascetic elders was no light decision. Bo Do spoke again.
"Discard the Conversion Art, as you promised."
Beop Gong's face was rigid. He bit off each word with force.
"One who has left the household does not lie. I will do as I promised."
Every other monk looked at Beop Gong, at Bo Do, and at Yi Yeok with eyes full of unspoken meaning.
"However, that is a separate matter. A heterodox cultivator has dared set his filthy feet in this hall and refused Buddha-nature. I cannot simply let it pass."
The monks of Tasa Temple took up their abbot's words.
"The abbot speaks truly. We cannot leave a heretic be."
"Dharma arts do not work on him. There is something wrong with the wretch. Seize him and investigate!"
The air in the Mahavira Hall turned ugly. One by one the monks closed in on Yi Yeok and Bo Do, leaking a threatening pressure.
"Well, I'll be. If you lose, lose clean. Look at you, scrabbling in the dirt. So this is the dignity of a high Buddhist order."
Yi Yeok's voice was pure mockery. Bo Do, though, was calm, as if he had foreseen every turn of it. He shoved Yi Yeok out of the Mahavira Hall as if throwing him.
"Go!"
Yi Yeok landed lightly outside the hall and shouted, urgent.
"Master!"
Bo Do lifted his liquor bottle, took a deep swallow, and smiled at him. In the next instant the doors of the Mahavira Hall slammed shut with a boom.
In the heartbeat before they closed, Yi Yeok saw Beop Gong bare his killing intent and launch a palm strike at Bo Do. Just as he moved to leap back inside, Bo Do's voice rang at his ear.
Light blazed inside the Mahavira Hall and stabbed out through the cracks of the doors and the windows. From the white jade prayer beads Bo Beop had given him, wound about Yi Yeok's wrist, radiance burst forth and warped the space around him.
"Go. Return to the place you came from."
"Master Bo Do..."
Yi Yeok reached out, but space split, and he vanished.
At the same moment Bo Do was hurled through the doors, smashing them apart, and collapsed onto the ground. Inside the Mahavira Hall, everything was a sea of blood.
When Yi Yeok came to, he was falling from several hundred zhang in the sky. His cultivation had deepened another layer, and he touched down as lightly as a dry leaf.
"I'm back."
He could tell this was the eastern reaches of the Heaven-Center Immortal Realm, but not precisely where. He looked down at the white jade beads on his wrist. They had already lost their light, and their spirituality was gone. Worthless now—yet he tucked them into the Qiankun Ring all the same.
A long while later he pushed himself up. He wiped his face with his sleeve, but the tear-streaked mess of it would not come clean.
"Enough. Don't think too hard. First I need a wash."
Extending his spiritual sense, he found a small pond not far off. As he drew near, a whistle reached him. A man was already in the water. The build was unmistakably male—thick and rough—yet the lips were red as a woman's, and the face was white jade, as if it had been powdered.
"Oh my. What a handsome big brother. Want to play together?"
The man had spotted him and was throwing flirtatious glances. Yi Yeok spat.
"Damn it. Play by yourself."
He turned and walked off. Any desire to get in the water had died on the spot. The man, though, sprang out and came padding across the surface, light as anything. His cultivation was clearly considerable.
"Hey, don't go. Come play with me."
Yi Yeok's face twisted as if he were holding down vomit at the sight of the man, who hadn't a thread on his body.
"I'm in a bad mood today. If you want to live out your natural span, don't touch me."
The man paid no mind and drew closer, voice dripping with coquetry.
"I've never seen a big brother this handsome in my whole life."
Yi Yeok lifted a foot and kicked him flying.
"Get lost!"
In a flash he was beside the man, grinding that face into the mud, and he did not stop—he kicked the body again and again.
"Stop!"
At the sharp cry, Yi Yeok halted. A girl who looked about his age came toward him, face tight with anger, dressed in silk the color of a living flame.