The Method of Governing the Heart

Part 23 — The Method of Governing the Heart

Luoyang Sword Family, Wongak Pavilion.

Unlike usual, the Wongak Pavilion that morning held none of the maidservants who ordinarily hurried about their duties from the earliest hours. It lay so still and untroubled it might have been a place removed from the dust of the world altogether.

Yet the peace of a place does not always settle the hearts of those who wait within it.

Classified as non-combatants, the members of Daseonrang had been ordered to stand by at Wongak Pavilion — the safest ground in all of Luoyang. Only when word of the First Young Master's triumph arrived did they finally release the breaths they had been holding.

"Thank goodness. Oh, thank goodness."

Sang-gwan Nan-hwa, former representative of Daseonrang and famed as the greatest beauty of Sichuan, pressed a hand to her chest in relief.

"Given that it was that First Young Master, I was certain he would never fall… and yet…"

Of the Daseonrang present, only three remained, Sang-gwan Nan-hwa among them. The other two, by the First Young Master's command, had already departed Luoyang with members of the Spring of Luoyang, traveling beyond the borders of Henan.

She had sent those two companions into unfamiliar territory without a tremor of anxiety — such was her trust in Yeon So-hyeon. Even so…

"This time it was an armed clash…"

Aside from herself, who possessed internal qi, the remaining two of Daseonrang had already collapsed into exhausted sleep the moment the First Young Master's victory report arrived with the dawn, their tension finally spent.

She could not bring herself to fault them. They must have been worn past endurance.

Their families had been taken hostage by the Emei Sect, and they had lived each day under crushing pressure. On their very first day in Luoyang, an assassin's blade had come for them. And from the moment they joined hands with Yeon So-hyeon, they had been swept into a succession struggle of a scale beyond anything the Luoyang Sword Family had ever imagined.

Even for Daseonrang — who, in the history Yeon So-hyeon remembered, would one day rise to rank among the Ten Great Merchant Groups of the Central Plains — it had been overwhelming.

Somehow, in the time we have spent in Luoyang of late, it feels as though we have lived through more than in all the years of our lives combined.

She had sunk so deep into her thoughts that when the voices came, she nearly fainted from the shock.

"Amitabha."

"Who—who goes there?"

Wongak Pavilion was sealed. No outsider should have been able to approach it. And yet the mellow voices of old men had suddenly filled the air.

Fortunately, she had already heard from the maids of the two elderly monks of Shaolin Temple who were said to appear and vanish like ghosts.

"This is dried jerky for the young novices, and this is rice."

The two old monks recited the Buddha's name again and again, offering their thanks.

"Truly, we are grateful every time."

"Amitabha, Amitabha."

Then, as one of the monks accepted the jerky and rice from Sang-gwan Nan-hwa, his gaze fell upon her hand — and his brow twitched. He lifted his eyes and began to study her face with open intensity.

"…Excuse me? Is something the matter?"

She had been told these monks were no ordinary men, so she did not flare up at the rudeness. Even so, the old monk's eyes were unfathomably deep, and she could not help but feel unsettled.

"This bodhisattva…"

The old monk spoke as if dropping a heavy stone into still water.

"What?!"

"A thin and bitter life — that is the face you wear."

The other old monk peered at her features as well and added his own words.

"In childhood you were born to fortune, raised without want in a wealthy household. You possess a rare gift for commerce. And yet your life has been harsh, hardship piled upon hardship. Only when you have crossed those waves will you see the light."

Sang-gwan Nan-hwa — daughter of the Governor of Chengdu, born of a mother who was kin to the Dali Duan clan.

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In the original history, Daseonrang had fallen prey to Emei's schemes on the road to Luoyang. Their people had been assassinated; from that day they had been seized in Emei's clutches, fattening that sect's coffers until, only much later, they at last rose to greatness.

In that light, the old monks' eyes were, if anything, uncannily precise.

"Venerable masters… are you saying I will meet with calamity?"

"No."

The old monk shook his head at her words.

"More precisely — you bore the countenance of one who should have met with calamity."

The other monk continued.

"This bodhisattva's destiny has already been twisted."

He raised a hand and pointed toward the halls of Wongak Pavilion.

"Near a 'great star' such as the benefactor of this house, fates that were born one way are warped and shattered."

Unable to make sense of the koan-like words, Sang-gwan Nan-hwa asked in confusion,

"Warped and shattered? Is that a good thing… or a bad one?"

"Neither good nor bad."

The old monks laughed — a soft, wind-leaking sound.

"It is merely what it is."

"The destiny you were born with has been returned to a blank page. What comes of it now depends entirely on how earnestly this bodhisattva chooses to live."

She could not grasp it completely. But the meaning seemed to be this: that she, who by rights should have suffered misfortune, had met the master of this house — the First Young Master, Yeon So-hyeon — and the outcome had been rewritten. And that the life ahead of her now rested wholly in her own hands.

Sang-gwan Nan-hwa decided, at the least, that none of it was ill news for her.

"…I will take it to heart, Venerable Masters."

"Please, take no offense. Regard it merely as the well-wishing of a pair of ragged monks."

"Amitabha."

Smiling, the old monks pressed their palms together and moved on.

Standing in the beautiful courtyard of Wongak Pavilion, Sang-gwan Nan-hwa remained lost in complicated thought. The monks regarded her with warm eyes — and then their gazes turned at last toward the First Young Master's residence.

"…Even as he twists and shatters the destinies of others, he himself is drawn ever deeper into a heavier, darker path of penance."

As they drew away from Wongak Pavilion, pity and compassion welled in the old monks' eyes.

"May the small gift we left him prove of some use…"

That small gift was the worn scripture they had placed in Yeon So-hyeon's hands on their previous visit.

At that same hour—

The space where Yeon So-hyeon sat cross-legged was no larger than an ordinary room. And yet the chamber, wrapped in a clinging darkness, somehow felt infinite.

From within that darkness came a sound like thousands of beasts howling as one.

They were the voices of those who had surrendered to the Jeam Jincheon Scripture.

In the infinitely deep darkness of the Jeam Jincheon Scripture, Yeon So-hyeon felt as though he were falling alone through the vast emptiness of the cosmos — falling without end.

And yet—

"Is that so? You are certain I have no means to answer?"

Beneath the mask, what curved his lips was unmistakably a smile.

It was the same smile as always — arrogant, overflowing with absolute confidence.

At present, the demonic qi of the Jeam Jincheon Scripture — swollen from devouring the demonic energy of the Demonic Cult — was thrashing more violently than ever before.

But Yeon So-hyeon, determined to orchestrate this matter to its absolute end, had had no opportunity to still the demonic qi through proper breathing and circulation. The result was the present rampage.

Even so, with the demonic qi erupting both within and without, the situation sliding past all control — his bearing remained so haughty that even the subjugated ones of the Jeam Jincheon Scripture, who had been certain of victory, flinched for an instant.

Having completed a thorough assessment of Yeon So-hyeon's condition once more, they spoke with conviction.

Truly, a demonic abomination of a thousand ages. They had already prepared their countermeasures. The same trick would not catch them twice, it seemed.

"Is that so?"

Even so—

Even as cold sweat streamed down him, even as the vessels of his entire body blackened and bulged with the stain of demonic qi — the smile at Yeon So-hyeon's lips never faltered.

"But that is of no consequence."

In the instant the subjugated ones of the Jeam Jincheon Scripture began to cry out—

All sound vanished.

And light burst forth from Yeon So-hyeon.

A light more dazzling than dawn itself. The subjugated ones of the Jeam Jincheon Scripture named it the holy radiance of the Buddhist Law.

The Jeam Jincheon Scripture had, as it boasted, watched Yeon So-hyeon's every move. It had meticulously dismantled every mind method he refined and laid bare every scheme he wove.

"You could not have known."

Bathing in the brilliant holy light, Yeon So-hyeon smiled with a face far more at ease.

"Because this is not a mind method that I cultivated."

In the consciousness-world of Yeon So-hyeon, in its deepest reach — a place even the Jeam Jincheon Scripture had not yet found — there stood a colossal sheer cliff of a thousand fathoms.

Beneath a precipice built of millions, tens of millions, perhaps hundreds of millions of skulls, light was surging upward.

It was, without question, the holy radiance of the Buddhist Law.

And the one who radiated it was none other than the second Yeon So-hyeon — the vessel duplicated through the Dual Mind Technique, the self that had endured the demonic qi in his stead. Another ego of Yeon So-hyeon.

"This is it. The ancient secret of the Buddhist path — the Yi Jin Jing."

Watching the demonic qi of the Jeam Jincheon Scripture thrash as though struck by lightning in midair, he burst into laughter.

"How does it taste?"

The Yi Jin Jing was the legendary mind method said to have been left by Bodhidharma himself — the gift the high monks of Shaolin, who came and went from Wongak Pavilion, had entrusted to Yeon So-hyeon.

With a colossal howl that shook the soul, the demonic qi of the Jeam Jincheon Scripture recoiled. The erosion that had penetrated to the deepest layers of his mental world was fading, bit by bit.

"Hahahaha!"

The second Yeon So-hyeon, bound in chains, watched it all and laughed with pure, vindictive delight.

Yeon So-hyeon had received the Yi Jin Jing long ago — well before Daseonrang had even arrived. But he could not cultivate it at once. The moment he began, the Jeam Jincheon Scripture, which watched his every thought, would have found its countermeasure without difficulty.

And so Yeon So-hyeon had waited.

He had never once attempted to cultivate the Yi Jin Jing. Yet Yeon So-hyeon remembered every word of it. From the moment the first Yeon So-hyeon was replaced — from the moment this second self became the vessel and was bound in chains — cultivation had begun in the deepest place within him, a place even the Jeam Jincheon Scripture could not reach.

And in this very instant, with a perfected Yi Jin Jing, he had landed a flawless surprise strike upon the Jeam Jincheon Scripture.

"Hahahahahaha!"

When Yeon So-hyeon, still seated cross-legged, opened his eyes, the neat interior of an ordinary room lay before him.

From far off, the noise of the city drifted faintly in. Sunlight filtering through the blinds warmed the chamber with a gentle glow. All was peaceful.

The mask that had covered his face had already fallen and now lay rolling on the floor. What had taken place here only moments before already felt like a lie.

"Hooo…"

Drawing one last long breath, Yeon So-hyeon rose, pulled aside the blinds, and opened the window.

"Long live—!"

"Long live the First Young Master—!"

Still, from streets near and far, the cries of celebration rose in intermittent waves. A pleasant wind stirred Yeon So-hyeon's sweat-soaked hair.

The Jeam Jincheon Scripture had withdrawn. The erosion had halted. The rampage was over.

For the time being, control of the demonic qi belonged to Yeon So-hyeon.

The power of the Yi Jin Jing would remain effective only for a while, of course. But when that time came, there would be another method for that time.

He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the coolness that dried the sweat on his skin, then called out toward the outside.

"Chief Maid — are you there?"

Jeong-a, who had been waiting beyond the door, fretting away her anxiety, opened it at once and entered.

"Yes, Master. This girl is here…!"

Seeing her master's complexion, her face brightened. Yeon So-hyeon spoke to her.

"Come. Let us begin the next matter on the schedule."