Nothing But Life
Sun Wukong had lived a long time.
A life so long that the word immortality sat upon it without the slightest awkwardness. He had been tangled in countless bonds. Even the lives of ordinary humans, which in hindsight were nothing more than the blink of an eye, came knotted and woven with connections — so how much denser, then, must the bonds entwined with Sun Wukong's fate have been? Denser than the stars in the heavens, surely.
He had seen many, met many, befriended many — or lived as bitter enemies. And among them all, there was one figure carved deep into Sun Wukong's mind.
It was back when Sun Wukong had not yet openly defied the Celestial Realm. The man was already a friend whose rumors ran wild. A mere human who had made his name by mocking Heaven with nothing but his inborn wit, toying with the celestial gods as he pleased. Sun Wukong, who held a high opinion of anyone who gave the celestial gods a hard time, went to meet him.
The first meeting brought a sudden welling of disappointment.
The man commanded neither a high monk's dharma power nor a daoist's arts. The only unusual thing about him was that, old as he was, his face remained as clear and fair as a child's. Snow-white hair. A child's face. A strange appearance, certainly. But Sun Wukong was a being of self-attained dignity, born looking past the surface to what lay within. He who had reached the Daoist ideal from the moment of his birth looked inward — and felt nothing. No special power. No talent. Not a trace of yeongryeok.
Just an ordinary human.
Even under Sun Wukong's distrustful gaze, the fellow smiled lightly and launched into conversation.
"Teacher Sun, do you know why even ordinary demons tremble at the sight of Heaven's divine generals?"
"Well, because the divine generals are stronger than they are, no?"
"Are you afraid of them too, Teacher Sun?"
Sun Wukong snorted. Who in the world was there for him to fear? Hadn't he studied under Patriarch Subhuti, who surpassed most of the celestial gods? And he was that fellow's foremost disciple. And yet a quiet unease had crept in. Even Sun Wukong found those divine generals in their dazzling armor vaguely unsettling.
"Teacher Sun, I don't know much about fighting. But I know one thing. There's a saying that in a fight, you've already lost from the start, isn't there?"
"Lost from the start?"
"Yes. That's what Heaven's divine generals are. Adorned in splendid armor and the finest treasures of the Celestial Realm, they radiate majesty. That's already losing the fight."
He smiled and added,
"It isn't their original power you lose to — it's the presence and majesty pouring off that appearance. That's precisely why Heaven's divine generals always win."
Honestly, Sun Wukong at the time did not understand it all at once. It was hard to put much stock in the words of a human who looked far weaker than himself. He smacked his lips and nodded.
"Mm, mm. Right. I won't forget your advice. Ah — what did you say your name was?"
"Would someone as noble as Teacher Sun need to know the name of this worthless scholar? But if my courtesy name would suffice..."
"I am the Monkey King, Sun Wukong. And you?"
"Mancheon, Teacher."
Mancheon smiled with a child's pure brightness.
It was not long before Sun Wukong found his enlightenment in Mancheon's advice.
Sun Wukong had always loved wearing splendid clothes. Over garments embroidered in gold and silver foil, the Golden Chain Mail forged from the golden scales of the Dragon King of the West Sea. Upon his head, the Phoenix-Wing Purple-Gold Crown, phoenix feathers mounted upon it, radiating a brilliant luster of intermingled purple and gold. Upon his feet, the Cloud-Stepping Boots that seemed woven through with pure white clouds.
He had not gathered these things with any special intent. While collecting the Ruyi Jingu Bang, he had figured that since he had a weapon, he would need matching armor too — and at Sun Wukong's very polite request (pounding the floor with the Ruyi Jingu Bang), the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas had competed to present him gifts.
"Ah, refusing something like this would be rude, wouldn't it."
Sun Wukong had never known how to refuse a gift. Bribes were another matter. These were gifts packed with sincerity. Unable to turn away the genuine feelings of the Four Sea Dragon Kings, he decked himself out in everything they had given him and burst out into the world.
He felt the unexpected effect not long after.
"Aigoo, Great Sage, sir!"
"Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, sir!"
Even ordinary demons dropped to their knees the moment they saw him. Only then did Sun Wukong realize how he appeared to them. Cloud-made shoes. A purple-and-gold crown with phoenix feathers, blazing with brilliant light. Golden armor wrought from a golden dragon's scales. And on top of all that, riding the Somersault Cloud, roaming heaven and earth — the demons regarded him as nothing less than a divine general descended from the sky.
Every time his hair swayed, a golden halo shimmered around him like a nimbus. And with his entire body plated in gold, how could it have been otherwise? Even without Sun Wukong roaring a single command, demons of every stripe knelt before his majesty.
Demons as a race do not kneel easily. Moreover, Sun Wukong at the time was still young. The usual way was to fight, beat someone down, and confirm the hierarchy. Yet the demons bowed of their own accord and trembled.
"Huh? Would you look at these guys?"
Whether they had heard the rumors or not, the Celestial Realm began to take an interest as well. Word had filtered upward that some monkey demon was turning the lower world into chaos. Naturally, countless divine generals, spirits, and immortals descended from Heaven.
"Heavens! Master, if I may ask — what is the origin of your lineage?"
"Looking upon your refined bearing, you hardly seem ordinary..."
Even those self-important divine generals and immortals who used to look down on demons sighed at Sun Wukong's appearance — and even feared him.
Sun Wukong realized.
The world is fuller of idiots than I thought!
From the atmosphere pouring off a person's appearance, a great many fools blind themselves. They tremble at majesty.
Well — even a mere peacock, a lowly creature, grooms its appearance and shows off. All things under heaven fail to escape this principle.
The realization did not stop at appearance. It spread further.
A convincing bluff sometimes holds more persuasive power than the truth, doesn't it?
Only then was Mancheon's advice engraved deep in his mind. In the lower world and in Heaven alike, Sun Wukong felt it keenly. The distinguished immortals, the gods, even characters like the Jade Emperor and Taishang Laojun were all the same. How many times had they fallen for Sun Wukong's bluster? Package a few plausible clues and traces well enough, and deceiving people is nothing at all.
It isn't that you deceive others. They deceive themselves.
If you just casually flash them a plausible situation...
Like the Three Cheongs standing before Sun Wukong right now.
"Insubordination?!"
"You don't know what insubordination means?"
"That's not what I meant, and you know it!"
"Well, our organization does operate separately. From the branches spread across the various provinces on down — you lot are independents who follow Honghaea, aren't you?"
"So you're saying you're one of those organizations too?"
Sun Wukong did not bother answering. A look of confusion kept flickering across the Three Cheongs' faces.
"Proof?"
Hocheong's eyes flashed. The sword tip had lowered, but it was loaded with presence, ready to swing again at any moment. Yet the blade trembled faintly — a minute vibration, invisible to the eye.
Sun Wukong's eyes curved into crescents. Suddenly laughter spilled from his lips.
"......!"
The hall filled with nothing but Sun Wukong's laughter. A cheerful laugh that did not match the taut atmosphere in the slightest. When those opposing emotions collided, the air turned ice-cold for a moment.
Suddenly the laughter stopped. When even the sound of it vanished, a heavy silence settled over everything.
"Whether you believe it or not is not for you to decide."
The voice that flowed out was ice-cold. A chill so sharp it seemed even breath would freeze. The Three Cheongs' mouths all snapped shut. Even the faintest stir vanished from their movements. The trembling itself subsided. They literally froze.
A crushing weight like a mountain they could not possibly bear. An intangible pressure no one could believe came from a human being. This was no mere voice laden with killing intent, nor some aura cobbled together from inner energy. How much inner energy would one have to accumulate — how much would one have to cultivate — to possess such weight? The face of Hocheong, who had stepped forward first, turned ashen.
Sun Wukong's gaze touched each of them in turn. Beneath crescent-curved brows, an indescribable look holding a cold light. What showed on his face was a chilly sneer.
"What a bunch of clumsy fools. Useless things who don't even know their place."
It was unrestrained abuse. Vicious mockery and contempt they would never have heard even if they had wanted to. Yet no one could retort. They could not even open their mouths. The light bursting from his eyes — crimson and gold erupting together — was intense and hot as lava. Just having that gaze land on them felt like their skin would sear, and his voice was so cold it froze even the air.
At that point, one thought rose almost simultaneously in all three of the Three Cheongs' minds.
Can someone like this... possibly be a mere human?
A question that rose unbidden. This was not the presence of a mere human. That primordial fear deep in their hearts stirred. This was not terror born of simple pressure. An abyss, writhing and snarling up from the depths.
The pressure pouring off Sun Wukong grew heavier.
"Know your place. You damned mongrels."
Sun Wukong drove the steel staff into the floor.
Woom. Woom. Woom.
A blood-red, ominous energy, visible to the naked eye, roared roughly around the steel staff. A fierce sensation, as if the staff would smash their skulls at any moment. A deeply ingrained instinct screamed a frantic alarm.
I... I'm feeling threatened?
A stunned look rose on the Three Cheongs' faces. The terror their instincts whispered. The hands gripping their sword hilts trembled faintly. Against the presence crushing their entire bodies, the Three Cheongs raised their own presence in opposition. Their gazes crossed in midair.
"To fail to recognize an ally and exchange such hostile looks..."
Hocheong replied with a hardened face.
"The proof that you're part of our organization..."
Hocheong's words could not continue. Sun Wukong swung the steel staff without warning. Hocheong desperately swung his sword to meet it.
CRASH!
With an explosive boom, Hocheong's body was shoved far backward. At the same time Nokcheong and Yangcheong's eyes flew wide as they shouted something. Sun Wukong did not bother listening. This was not a time to hear them out. It was time to show them his hand.
Ink-dark afterimages interwove with three swords.
That the Three Cheongs' past lives were bound to him by a fateful enmity — that much he could not deny. The cords of fate, red as blood, proved it. Then what had they been in those past lives?
The method of confirmation was simple. Beat them down, drive them into a corner, and induce them to draw out their latent power. That intent was loaded into Sun Wukong's steel staff.
But that was not all.
I'm a Buddha, after all.
Forgiving one's opponent and bestowing mercy was only natural. But mercy is what delivers one from terror. Terror and mercy are inseparable. Mercy that liberates from terror — in that moment, a fierce relief and the feeling of being alive surge forth. Everything is engraved in the mind. The situation and the process of that moment. Even the very breath.
Sun Wukong intended to bestow mercy upon them.
Like the Shandong Seven Shadows, there's no reason I couldn't make them my hands and feet.
But for that — for Sun Wukong's Buddha-like mercy to take effect —
The terror that they might die.
He would have to gift them that first, wouldn't he?
That kind of fear is simple enough.
Sun Wukong grinned.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
A staff and three swords clashed madly. Sun Wukong's smile grew thicker, and the Three Cheongs' faces hardened like stone. Between them, his voice rang out low.
"The punishment for insubordination. Do you know it?"
They did not. None of the Three Cheongs could spit that answer out of their mouths. Not once had they dreamed of insubordination. There was nothing to gain from such a thing, and it was a foolish act that could never succeed. But in any organization, any group, the punishment for insubordination is absolute.
Sun Wukong's voice rang out ice-cold.