The Strongest Desire
"Anhui Province has gotten awfully loud lately."
"Good heavens. I've never seen a circus like this."
"Swordsmen swarming every street, I tell you."
Anhui Province had remained relatively quiet since the Great Orthodox-Demonic War, sheltered from the storms that battered the rest of the world. The reason was simple. The Namgung Clan — an absolute power — had withdrawn from every external affair and lived in something close to complete seclusion.
But now the slumbering giant of Anhui had begun to stir.
"They're all Orthodox martial artists, though, aren't they?"
"Martial artists are always one spark away from trouble, sure — but at least the Orthodox ones won't start cutting people down in the open. That's something."
"And thanks to them, every two-bit thug who used to swagger around has gone into hiding. Not the worst thing in the world, if you ask me."
"But why are all the Orthodox martial artists pouring into Anhui?"
"Come now, you haven't heard? They're holding something called the Grand Assembly of Murim at the Namgung Clan."
"The Grand Assembly of Murim?"
"First time every Orthodox faction has gathered in one place since the Great War, they say."
It was a gathering of an entirely different order from the Dragon-Phoenix Meeting, that old assembly of rising stars from the Five Great Clans. The Wulin Alliance, centered on the Nine Sects and One Gang. The Five Great Clans, centered on the Namgung. And beyond them, the countless sects and houses that claimed the Orthodox Path as their own.
"But why hold it at the Namgung Clan?"
"Hmm? The Namgung Clan's got a nasty reputation, sure, but they fought harder than anyone in the Great War."
"Well, yes, but... when you say the Orthodox martial world, you think Shaolin. Shaolin. Granted, you couldn't hold something like this on Mount Song..."
"And the Wulin Alliance is headquartered in Henan besides. Shouldn't this be happening in Henan, then?"
All Martial Arts Under Heaven Originate from Shaolin
Every martial art, every technique, had come from Shaolin. It was an arrogant claim — and not a soul in the world disputed it.
That Bodhidharma had opened the martial world was no legend and no myth. It was a documented fact, proven by texts and a mountain of records. Every sect rose and fell in its season. Shaolin was no exception. And yet Shaolin was Shaolin, eternal. Even if the temple itself were to fall, no one would dare look down on it — for it was the spiritual pillar and cornerstone of the Orthodox Path, the very foundation of the martial world.
The Wulin Alliance had planted its headquarters in Henan for one reason only: Shaolin's influence. That the Grand Assembly of Murim was being held in Anhui was a question that deserved asking.
Only a vanishingly small number of people knew the real answer. Sun Wukong was one of them.
"So... everyone owes the Namgung Clan a debt, is that it?"
"At the very least, no one can stand ahead of the Namgung Clan when the cause is punishing the Demonic Path." Namgung Jinbaek's voice was iron.
"In the Great War, the Namgung Clan shed more blood than any other. A mountain of infamy followed us, but what of it? We fought the Sama Order. We won. We protected the martial world. Every Orthodox fighter who survived that war owes the Namgung Clan a debt written in blood."
"And you used that as justification to steer the assembly onto Namgung ground?"
"It's Shaolin, after all." Namgung Jinbaek smiled, bitter around the edges. "Debts of gratitude and grudges are the strongest justifications in the martial world — and Shaolin, faced with a righteous cause, become the most inflexible people alive."
"I find it hard to believe Shaolin would yield over that alone."
"I went to the Wulin Alliance myself, as Patriarch of the Namgung Clan. That alone was a concession on our part."
"I see. The head of the Five Great Clans paying a personal visit... they would have taken that well, I suppose."
"There were any number of political reasons. Dig into them and it all turns into a headache. But the most important reason is only one."
A sharp, blue-white light flared in Namgung Jinbaek's eyes.
Namgung Jinbaek laid out the Wudang Blood Incident and, through it, the reappearance of the unorthodox.
"Baekgwiwang. That creature was a nightmare. If a master of that caliber were the only one, it would be one thing — but he won't be. He never is, with their kind."
"So the Namgung Clan can't face this alone. That's the conclusion?"
"The Namgung Clan as it stands cannot." He was honest about it. "That is why the Orthodox Path must stand together. And the grounds were more than sufficient. The Wudang Blood Incident happened right under our noses."
"Fair enough. That would have shaken anyone. Still — wasn't this all a little sudden?"
"I do have something of an impatient streak..."
"Which is why your Law Enforcement Hall Master looked ready to collapse under a mountain of work the second she got back."
"Hahaha..."
Namgung Jinbaek gave a strained laugh and looked away. The memory of Muhwa's gaze — sharp enough to count as a curse — sent an involuntary shiver through him.
"There is still time. I never expected the Wudang Sect to arrive so quickly... and I certainly never expected the Law Enforcement Hall Master to come home with this much already accomplished. I would let her rest if I could, but the clan's circumstances being what they are..."
He glanced at Sun Wukong. The look in his eyes was not one Wukong could miss.
"Don't look at me. I'm resting. You all figure it out."
"...Brother Sun."
"I said I don't know. I don't."
Sun Wukong shook his head. There was only one reason Namgung Jinbaek would come all this way and lay the situation out in this much detail.
We've been so buried in the Wudang business that the search for Sanzang hasn't moved an inch.
Time, unfortunately, kept moving.
How long can Sanzang's body hold out?
They had to find Sanzang's flesh as fast as possible — and feed it the Inner Core the previous Myodu-eung had left them.
"Between Seowol and Muyoung, I'm already busy looking after those two."
He said it under the pretext of being their master — and because one of them was Sanzang, and he had to find out which. In other words: Grand Assembly or no Grand Assembly, he was too busy with the two of them to get involved, and he was sitting this one out.
Namgung Jinbaek, however, took it in an entirely different spirit. His face lit up.
"That's Brother Sun for you. I'll leave it in your hands."
"...Huh?"
"It's a gathering of the entire Orthodox Path. A place where martial artists convene."
"And what, exactly, are you leaving in my hands?"
"When you gather a crowd of hot-blooded fighters with swords at their hips, there's bound to be a martial tournament, isn't there?"
"..."
"And now Brother Sun himself will be personally instructing Muyoung and Seowol? Hahaha — oh, this is rich. The martial world will be stunned. They'll witness the birth of young prodigies with their own eyes."
Namgung Jinbaek laughed like a man who had just sprung a perfect trap. Sun Wukong's brow furrowed.
Looking after Seowol and Muyoung was something he had to do regardless. To confirm which of them was Sanzang, he needed to look past the flesh with his Fiery Golden Eyes and see the soul itself. That much was his own business. The nagging sense that he had just been saddled with something deeply annoying, however, was not so easily dismissed.
Sun Wukong decided to work the irritation off on somebody.
"Ojeong. Make a choice."
"You show up and chop the conversation off at the neck before we've even said hello. What are you talking about?"
"Are you going to confess your failures like an honest man and admit you weren't up to the job — or are you going to play dumb?"
"...The, uh. The Hoga Manor. The surveillance. That's been going... well."
"Just surveillance?"
"Ah — you mean the Hao Sect. W-well, as you saw when you arrived. Look at this Manhyangru. Every rich man in Anhui, every official with a scrap of power, every strange martial artist you can name — they all end up here. The secrets they spill once the wine hits them come trickling in through the Seven Shadows of Shandong, nice and steady. Anhui's information is in our fist. That's the long and short of it."
"And the Hao Sect?"
"...We're, ah. Competing with them."
Ojeong's eyes slid away.
"They're no joke."
"So you never actually took control."
The sudden chill in Sun Wukong's voice sent Ojeong leaping half out of his skin.
"You expected me to push out an entire Hao Sect branch in a single month? That's absurd! Building it this far is already impressive!"
Perhaps it had been too long since he had last seen Sun Wukong. Ojeong was actually talking back.
"Looked to me like the Lord of Hoga Manor did almost all of it himself."
"Come now, would the Lord of Hoga Manor say a thing like that? Of course not."
"Ojeong. I can sit in one place and see a thousand li. Ten thousand li. I can hear a fly beat its wings."
Ojeong looked away. Judging by Sun Wukong's expression, the man already knew exactly how far the work had gotten — or hadn't.
Ah. He came here already knowing everything, didn't he? ...No. He couldn't. Not by any reasonable measure...
The Lord of Hoga Manor must have talked. That was the only explanation Ojeong could reach — he had no way of guessing that Myodu-eung, the owl mountain god he had dismissed as a mere beast, had reported his every move down to the last twitch.
Ojeong quietly lowered his tail.
"...I had a share in it too, you know."
"Ojeong."
"The Lord of Hoga Manor is so underworld-sly he's practically a snake — cunning doesn't begin to cover it — so he handles things well. I left the practical work to him and took on a, you know, commanding role. A leadership sort of..."
"You sat around and ate."
"I-is it that obvious?"
"You've put on a little weight."
Ojeong's gaze fled to the floor. Sun Wukong let out a long sigh.
"Ah. That old self from your past life is peeking out again, isn't it?"
"Uh, Great Hero? Why the fist?"
"Curious? Then I'll show you."
"I-I'm not curious. I have no curiosity whatsoever."
"That's the problem."
"Pardon?"
"You've got so little curiosity you've got no drive either."
Sun Wukong's eyes gleamed.
"Let me fix that nasty habit of yours."
"Bajie has far too much greed."
"He's a pig demon. What do you expect?"
Sun Wukong's reply to Sanzang was as blunt as a thrown brick.
"Ojeong, on the other hand, has far too little."
"Ojeong?"
"That's right."
"Now that you mention it... I don't think I ever saw him want anything. At this rate he's already a Buddha. He's transcended desire."
The mockery in Sun Wukong's voice was thick enough to spread. Sanzang let out a quiet sigh.
"It is true that liberation from the Five Desires leads toward Buddhahood. It is equally true that this is precisely why Ojeong will have such a hard time becoming one."
"There you go talking in circles again, Sanzang."
"I mean exactly what I said. The Five Desires — appetite, wealth, lust, fame, and sleep — and the Three Poisons of greed, wrath, and resentment. He possesses none of them. And so, paradoxically, Ojeong cannot reach liberation."
"...He's that empty?"
"He simply lives as he is."
Heard carelessly, it might have sounded like a condemnation of a wretched life. But Sanzang's voice was so refined, so gently measured, that it carried no insult at all — only a quiet sorrow.
"He has no desire. None. Give him an order and he follows it faithfully. But it is desire that lets a person go further — and have you ever once seen Ojeong take something upon himself, of his own will?"
"...I haven't, no."
Sun Wukong found himself short of an answer. Thinking back, it was true. Tell Ojeong to do something and he did it at once. But if you asked whether the work was done well...
"It's frustrating, isn't it? You can tell he could do better. It just looks like he processed it and moved on."
"Because he has no desire, he stops the moment he hits a wall. That is Ojeong."
Sun Wukong's eyes narrowed.
"Most demons wear the shapes of beasts."
A monkey demon named Sun Wukong. A pig demon named Zhu Bajie. A bull demon named the Bull Demon King...
Perhaps it was because they wore animal forms. A beast does not question what is set before it. When it is hungry, it eats. When it is tired, it sleeps. A life ruled by instinct — that is the life of a beast. Demons resemble that animal greed. Their demonic energy is a power that hungers for desire itself.
Humans ascend and become immortals. They find liberation, reach nirvana, and become Buddhas.
Demons cannot. The gluttony of their inborn nature, joined to their demonic energy, makes monsters of them.
"Then why is Ojeong different?"
Sanzang smiled, and the smile was sad.
"Because... Ojeong is a demon, and yet he is not."
"...Right. That's right. He was different from Bajie."
Sun Wukong thought for a moment, then gave a quiet nod.
"Then what am I supposed to do about it?"
"You have to plant desire in him."
"This whole road is nothing but hardship and trial so we can cast off desire. And you're telling me I need to plant some in Ojeong?"
"To empty a vessel, you must first fill it. To fill a vessel, you must first empty it."
"Ugh. There he goes with the riddles again."
"Wukong."
"What?"
"Look after Ojeong for me. He's your precious little brother, is he not?"
"Little brother, my ass..."
Sun Wukong turned his head with a scowl. A warm light flickered, just for a moment, in the eyes that watched him — because the place Sun Wukong's gaze had gone was Ojeong, walking on in silence.
"See? When I was around, you at least put in a little greed and trained your martial arts. And now look. Slack again already. If anything, you feel slower than you did before we went to Hubei. Not sharper."
"...Well. Uh."
Ojeong, his face a constellation of bruises, kept his eyes on the floor. Sun Wukong clicked his tongue.
"Why did you even learn martial arts?"
"To survive, I suppose."
"You never wanted to get stronger?"
"...I did, once. Not so much anymore."
Sun Wukong did not press him for the rest of the story. There had been a time when Ojeong burned to learn martial arts and grow strong. That had been different from his past life. A real desire, clearly held.
And then, before he came to the Namgung Clan, he stopped wanting anything again.
He had been content enough living as a nameless bandit. Sun Wukong had thought the Namgung Clan's influence was stirring that hunger for martial arts back to life.
Not enough fuel, is that it?
He scratched his chin. Whether Ojeong trained further or not was hardly something he needed to worry about. And yet — they were sworn brothers, in name if nothing else.
He could not shake the words Sanzang had spoken all those years ago. That voice, asking him to look after Ojeong.
Sun Wukong sighed.
"Well. If you don't have a reason, I'll just have to make you one."
"Pardon?"
"Starting now, you spar with me. Every day."
"...!"
"The stronger you get, the less you'll get hit. Right?"
The Five Desires, liberation, all the rest of it — none of that mattered. There was only one desire stronger than the rest.
Sun Wukong's eyes curved into a wicked crescent. Ojeong's mouth opened and closed. There was something he wanted to say; it would not come out. Sun Wukong cracked his knuckles.
"Shall we start with today's session?"
"Wait — you already hit me!"
"That was just a warm-up massage."
"That is not —"
Fortunately for Ojeong, the Lord of Hoga Manor chose that moment to walk in.
"...Ah. Were you in the middle of a lesson?"
The Lord of Hoga Manor took one look at Ojeong's blossoming bruises and went wide-eyed. Then Sun Wukong said, of all things:
"What are you doing here?"
This was Manhyangru. Sun Wukong was the guest. The Lord of Hoga Manor, however, was a man who could read a room. He kept his mouth firmly shut on the obvious and went straight to the point.
"Someone has come looking for you, Great Hero."
"Someone?"
"It's the Hao Sect."