Chapter 203
Chapter 203
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 203
Chapter Title: Repentance Cave
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Dang Mujin watched as Sima Se finished treating the patients, and the women of the Sima family were led away by the nuns who had arrived from the Emei Sect, embarking on a long journey.
The sinners wouldn't get to travel comfortably by boat to Mount Emei—they would surely have to endure a grueling trek on foot.
Yet Dang Mujin's group had not left the Shaolin Temple. Hong Geolgae still had business there.
No one in the group knew exactly what was happening in Repentance Cave.
That was why they all looked at Hong Geolgae with similar thoughts.
'He said it wasn't anything worthwhile, but it looks more learnable than expected.'
The group's thoughts toward Hong Geolgae were much alike. A touch of mischief in hoping he'd stick around at the first-rate level to be their plaything. At the same time, a wish that he'd break through the wall to the absolute peak and shake off his inferiority complex.
Of course, no one voiced the latter. That was the unspoken rule among young men.
Hong Geolgae paid no mind to the group's gazes and went in and out of Repentance Cave every day.
*
As days passed, the food situation around Henan Province visibly worsened.
The barley harvest had failed disastrously, as expected. Even shaking the stalks yielded mostly chaff, with hardly any proper grains.
The autumn wheat, planted a bit earlier than the barley, was in somewhat better shape, but its yield was less than half the normal amount. To make matters worse, the land sown with autumn wheat was far smaller than that for barley.
At this point, even a fool could see it: this year would bring a long, harsh famine hill to overcome.
Dang Mujin and Hyeon-gong, back from the lower village, shared what they'd heard.
"Even the merchants aren't coming anymore. Isn't it about time we left?"
"Lately, getting meals at the Shaolin Temple feels awkward. The monks don't say anything..."
Merchants coming to the area around Mount Song initially sold grain at double the price. That alone sparked complaints, but within days, prices jumped to three times, five times, and eventually ten times as much.
Prices didn't stop soaring to the heavens; eventually, the merchants stopped coming altogether.
The village atmosphere shifted accordingly.
Not only inns but even small street stalls shut down completely. Village women tried to stretch their rice stores as long as possible by reducing meal portions bit by bit.
Even the carefree children lacked energy; trips to the lower village no longer echoed with their play.
When Hong Geolgae returned from scouting the village mood and entered Repentance Cave, the old man was picking out rotten hardship pills one by one.
Hardship pills had no taste but didn't spoil easily. That was why they were standard for closed-door training.
Ordinary hardship pills became even less tasty and chewier if you increased the pine pollen ratio and dried them thoroughly in the sun, but they barely spoiled at all.
The old man's hardship pills contained plenty of pine pollen—no shortage there—so there weren't many to discard.
Hong Geolgae watched the old man work for a moment, then reported everything he'd seen and heard in the village.
The old man rolled a hardship pill between his fingers as he replied.
"...I see. As expected, hard times are coming."
"Elder, those hardship pills are the ones you stockpiled to share with the villagers, right?"
"Yes."
Inside Repentance Cave, ingredients from the vertical shaft were limited.
But the old man had minimized his own food intake and focused solely on making hardship pills for over thirty years, amassing a huge stockpile.
Of course, hardship pills alone couldn't fully stave off hunger. But for the lower village folk, they could sustain life for a month or two.
That alone would drastically reduce starvation deaths. With luck, there might be none at all.
"It's impressive, even to me."
"What's so impressive?"
"When I first started making them, I never dreamed I'd gather this many. And without begging from the Shaolin Temple."
"Seeing this many hardship pills, folks will be thrilled, right?"
"Undoubtedly."
The old man gazed blankly, lost in old memories. Voices of people still lingered in his wrinkled ears.
Thinking he'd soon hear their praises again made his heart pound fiercely.
Hong Geolgae asked.
"When will you head down to the village?"
"In three days... No, day after tomorrow would be better."
"Wouldn't it be wiser to wait longer before distributing? The later you give them, the greater their gratitude."
The old man pondered briefly before answering.
"...True. But I hope their hunger doesn't last that long."
The old man smiled sheepishly.
*
Two days later, deep in the night, the old man and Hong Geolgae left Repentance Cave, shouldering boxes filled with hardship pills.
The old man looked down at the small cliff below the iron gate of Repentance Cave. In his youth, he could have scaled it in a leap, but now his legs lacked the strength to descend with the boxes.
Hong Geolgae glanced at the iron gate behind the old man.
"Elder, if I hadn't come, how were you planning to open this gate?"
"There's a way to climb the wall and slip out. I've snuck out of Repentance Cave a few times like that."
"...Hadn't you stayed locked in Repentance Cave without ever coming out since holing up?"
"The rice, barley, and other grains I grew inside—where do you think I got the seeds? I snuck out to fetch them."
Suddenly, Hong Geolgae noticed something suspicious about the wooden box on his shoulder. Straight, large trees for boxes didn't grow in Repentance Cave's vertical shaft.
The old man saw Hong Geolgae's expression and chuckled.
"If you get the chance later, climb up above Repentance Cave yourself."
"Above Repentance Cave?"
"Yes. Flowers bloom in abundance. In spring, wisteria vines climb the trees, draping purple blossoms. In summer, yellow daylilies carpet the ground. It's a stunning sight."
Hong Geolgae smirked. The old man had lived more comfortably than expected.
Realizing he'd said too much, the old man stammered excuses.
"Sometimes I'd go mad if I didn't. But I didn't go often. As I aged, my health declined. I haven't gone up in years."
"No need to act innocent in front of me, Elder Hypocrite."
The old man widened his eyes at Hong Geolgae, then laughed purely, like a child. At least with Hong Geolgae, he didn't need to watch his step.
"Truth be told, I went up last spring too. Seeing the wisteria makes it feel like spring has arrived."
"Who's to complain? Go once each summer and fall too."
"Yes... I should..."
The old man's voice lacked strength. He'd recalled how little life he had left.
Hong Geolgae noticed and changed the subject.
"Anyway, I can handle lowering all the boxes myself, right?"
The old man wanted to help others without aid. That way, he'd feel the greatest pride.
But it was impossible in reality. He nodded without much hesitation.
"Yes. I leave it to you."
Hong Geolgae lowered dozens of boxes one by one down the cliff. With so many and each heavy, it was no easy task.
The two gazed contentedly at the piled boxes, then shouldered one each.
"Let's go."
The old man and Hong Geolgae headed toward the Shaolin Temple's mountain gate.
By chance, the deputy leader of Nahantang was guarding the entrance. He stared wide-eyed at Hong Geolgae and the old man.
The old man, acquainted with the deputy leader, gave a light smile.
The two headed down toward Mount Song.
The young Hong Geolgae felt no particular burden, but the old man was different. With every step, his knees and ankles threatened to buckle; he staggered repeatedly.
It was grueling. But the grueling part felt good.
The harder it was, the more it felt like he was becoming a better person—and the greater the praise he'd receive from people.
Only after considerable time did they reach the village entrance and set down the boxes.
It was still hours before dawn, so no one was about.
They climbed the mountain path again, shouldered more boxes, and descended to the village repeatedly.
On the third trip, as Hong Geolgae wiped sweat from his brow after setting down the box, he looked at the old man. Something was off about his appearance.
Even at dawn, the weather was quite warm. Hauling heavy loads up and down the mountain should have left him drenched in sweat, but the old man had barely broken one.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
His voice was weak. Hong Geolgae touched the old man's forehead. It burned like a hot coal.
Sweating too much in the heat is dangerous, but not sweating at all in this heat is far worse.
"Rest. I'll handle the rest."
"No. This is my duty."
The old man spoke in a dazed tone but with stubborn resolve. Helplessly, Hong Geolgae accompanied him back up Mount Song, shouldered the fourth box, and descended again.
Dang Mujin might have subdued the old man by force, but Hong Geolgae couldn't. He knew how much time the old man had invested in this night.
After arduously placing the fourth box at the village entrance, the old man sat atop it. Panting as if struggling to stay conscious, he said.
"I've thought about how to end my life."
"Don't talk. Rest."
Ignoring Hong Geolgae's plea, the old man continued.
"At the hungriest, most starving moment, place a mountain of food before the people and close my eyes. That would be the most magnificent way. Just help me a little more."
He tried to stand but nearly collapsed, staggering. He was exhausted.
Bewildered, the old man murmured.
"There are still dozens more to move..."
Hong Geolgae pondered. Should he finish alone? Could he before dawn?
Impossible.
But moments later, something unexpected happened. Led by the Nahantang deputy leader they'd met at the gate, elderly Shaolin monks began descending with boxes on their shoulders.
No ordinary young monks accustomed to chores— all held positions like hall leaders. Even the Shaolin abbot, Divine Monk, was among them.
"Ah..."
They even used lightness skills to transport the hardship pills swiftly. Soon, boxes piled like a mountain before the village.
Then, as if their duty done, the Shaolin monks raised their right palms in half-salute to the old man and departed. He stared at them blankly.
Soon, a rooster crowed. Hong Geolgae hid out of sight, while the old man sat cross-legged before the hardship pill boxes, waiting for people.
But villagers didn't appear promptly at the entrance. Whether eating breakfast or too weak from hunger, who could say.
Yet the old man sat straight-backed in perfect cross-legged posture, without a hint of faltering, awaiting them.
Hong Geolgae saw deep fatigue in the old man's eyes—and burning anticipation.
Only near daybreak did a few appear. Seeing the stacked boxes, they looked utterly baffled.
"Who are you, old monk? What's with all these boxes?"
Instead of answering, the old man offered them round hardship pills. Familiar to martial artists, but slightly alien to ordinary folk.
"You're hungry. Have one each."
The people chewed slowly. A taste like mud or sawdust.
Yet it was unmistakably food, with impressive satiety for its size.
"What is this...?"
"Hardship pills. I hope they help you."
Only then did they realize the boxes behind him brimmed with hardship pills.
A middle-aged man asked the old man.
"Who are you, old monk?"
The old man just smiled, saying nothing.
But an old woman recognized his face.
"I know him. It's Venerable Damjeong!"
"Venerable Damjeong? The one who saved our village from famine before?"
"Yes, that's him."
Eavesdropping from hiding, Hong Geolgae finally learned the old man's dharma name was Damjeong. As the old man had said, it was hugely famous; people murmured among themselves.
"When I saw him as a child, he wasn't this gaunt."
"And not this old either."
"Saving us from famine twice."
Just then, the sun rose behind Venerable Damjeong. The dim darkness receded into the distance, casting a halo of light around the old man's head.
Awed by the sight, people reacted with emotion.
Some wept; others prostrated themselves before Venerable Damjeong. All revered him but hesitated to approach. Newcomers reacted similarly.
Finally, a hundred villagers gathered, pondering how to express thanks.
Venerable Damjeong straightened further, beaming his most compassionate smile.
And in the next moment, his head drooped forward.
Silence fell.
The village physician approached hesitantly, holding a hand before Venerable Damjeong's nose. No breath.
He checked the wrist next. No pulse from the emaciated arm.
Trembling, the physician said.
"...He has entered nirvana."
"Oh nooooo!"
"Sob... Venerable, Venerable!"
The people shook violently, wailing as if bereft of parents.
As if forgetting who he was until now was an enormous sin. As if failing to repay him all these years was utter torment.
Unlike the villagers, however, Hong Geolgae narrowed his eyes, watching Venerable Damjeong closely.
No matter how he thought about it, the timing of his "death" seemed too perfect.
Recalling the tales from Repentance Cave turned suspicion to certainty. Venerable Damjeong wouldn't die without fully savoring this reaction.
Through careful observation, Hong Geolgae noticed the old man's chest rising and falling ever so slowly.
'Turtle Breathing Technique?'
Venerable Damjeong wasn't dead—he was faking it. To draw the most dramatic response and relish it completely.
As Hong Geolgae watched with mixed feelings, a small problem arose.
Someone in the crowd raised a question.
"How do we handle the funeral?"
Familiar with monk funerals from relying on Shaolin, some knew the rites.
A voice thick with tears but firm with conviction spoke.
"High monks like the Venerable undergo cremation rites. Gather plenty of dry firewood, everyone. Someone go to Shaolin and fetch the Disciplinarian. He'll have to oversee the cremation..."
Venerable Damjeong's body trembled faintly.