Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: Shaolin Temple
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Following the monk's advice, Dang Mujin circulated his qi through the night and opened his eyes. Yi Chung was packing his belongings.
"What are you doing?"
Yi Chung answered without even turning around.
"What else? We've wrapped everything up, so it's time to head out."
"Hmm."
It was only natural. Yet Dang Mujin felt an odd unease, as if something remained unfinished.
It wasn't about Mokinhang. There was nothing left to fix on Mokinhang. He'd even received a Great Return Pill yesterday, so his business at Shaolin was done.
So what was this feeling?
After a moment of thought, Dang Mujin realized the reason. It was Dan Seoryeong.
He recalled Dan Seoryeong's face, smiling confidently and claiming she had no lingering attachments.
Was that truly the expression of someone with no regrets at all?
Dang Mujin stared blankly, then asked Yi Chung.
"Old man. Have you finished the book?"
"It's almost done."
When Yi Chung first mentioned writing a medical text, Dang Mujin had imagined him wielding a brush and dashing off pages in one go.
But Yi Chung wrote far more slowly than Dang Mujin had pictured.
He would vanish for days while writing, laze about, or sit motionless with brush in hand, pondering until the ink dried.
As a result, Yi Chung hadn't completed the medical text even after Mokinhang's repairs were finished.
Dang Mujin spoke generously.
"Since we're already here, why not finish the book before we go? I can wait a bit longer."
Yi Chung finally turned around and snorted.
"It's not that I haven't finished the book—it's that you don't want to leave because of your own lingering feelings. Am I wrong?"
His perceptiveness was uncanny. Dang Mujin expected Yi Chung to tease him mercilessly, but surprisingly, Yi Chung unpacked without another word.
"I can wait a little longer myself. Let me know when you're ready to leave."
Dang Mujin nodded and stepped out of the guest quarters.
*
When Dang Mujin arrived at Dan Seoryeong's dwelling, she was packing as well.
Dan Seoryeong bustled about on quick little steps, then spotted him and waved.
"You're here? I thought you might've left already."
"It's only been a short time since fixing Mokinhang—why leave so soon? And I'm not the type to slip away without saying goodbye."
Dang Mujin eyed the belongings she was gathering. All sorts of household items were piled on a worn cloth.
"Where are you headed?"
"Where else would I go? Down to the village below, of course."
"Today?"
"Yeah. I've already told Dad and little brother."
Dang Mujin glanced at the graves of Dan Seoryeong's father and younger brother.
The bushes that had covered them were cleared away, and the weeds that had overgrown the mounds and surroundings were neatly tidied.
"What will you do from now on?"
"Not sure, but I won't starve, whatever it is. I know a few people in the lower village, so I can help out here and there and settle in."
"Why not head to a bigger city? Luoyang isn't far."
"It's too far to check the water wheel. I'll come back whenever I have time to maintain it."
Shaolin's monks could handle water wheel maintenance, couldn't they?
Its structure wasn't as complex as Mokinhang's, and it was in good shape now. Even if something broke, a skilled craftsman could replace a part or two without major issues.
But Dang Mujin decided not to press Dan Seoryeong on her choice. That was ultimately her decision to make.
"...Got it. I'll stick around a bit longer before leaving, so I'll visit when I can."
Dan Seoryeong beamed, clearly pleased.
"Got it. I'll be waiting."
Dan Seoryeong hefted a large bundle. She didn't ask for help.
She waved to Dang Mujin and headed down the mountain. Her small frame carrying the huge load looked like an ant hauling a giant leaf.
Dang Mujin lingered in front of the house she'd left, then peered inside. It had been so sparse to begin with that hardly any furnishings remained.
He checked the shed. A bit of unused firewood was left, and at one edge, small wooden blocks were stacked high.
They were the sample parts for the wooden puppets he and Dan Seoryeong had made during the repairs. Too precious for firewood, apparently.
But the parts no longer formed a puppet. Arms separate, legs separate, everything below the knee separate. Countless pieces jumbled together.
Tiny components made separately at her request, so as not to complete a puppet outside the temple gates.
A sudden thought struck Dang Mujin.
He stepped out of the shed and scanned the surroundings. He wandered into the mountains, seeking a spot untouched by people.
It didn't take long to find a tiny clearing.
*
Nearly a month had passed since Dan Seoryeong settled in the lower village.
She'd started working at a small inn in the village outskirts.
Many had advised that inn work was the easiest option. But it proved tougher than expected.
Dan Seoryeong was diligent but no expert in inn duties. She wasn't a great cook, nor quick-tongued enough to outshine veteran servers.
In the end, her tasks were all the grunt work.
She fetched water dozens of times a day, tended the fire, washed dishes, and handled cleanup and sweeping alone.
In rare moments of respite amid the frenzy, Dan Seoryeong sat on a small stool, lost in thought.
She had rarely dwelled on the past before. Her life held little sweetness to savor in reminiscence.
Lately, though, she sank into thoughts whenever she had time.
Mokinhang. Memories of working with Dang Mujin. Shaolin Temple. Dad. Little brother.
The water wheel and her little home. And Dang Mujin again.
Most recollections were from the recent months, not distant past. Memories always summon the sweetest times first.
Dan Seoryeong gauged how long since Dang Mujin's last visit. Over half a month already.
He used to come every few days at first, but then the visits stopped abruptly. Had he left without a word? The thought stung.
The innkeeper's voice snapped her from reverie.
"Seoryeong, finish up and rest."
Being a simple inn, not a tavern, business ended at sundown. Dan Seoryeong tidied alone and stepped out.
Her home was a tiny storeroom in the inn's corner. Cramped and uncomfortable, but best for her. Trekking mountain paths home in the dark night after night was impossible.
She looked up at the sky. No moon made the stars sparkle brighter.
As she stared vacantly and turned to the storeroom, she sensed movement.
It approached her, not the main road. Goosebumps rose.
Dan Seoryeong clenched her fist.
'I'll swing if they try anything funny.'
She trusted her strength and could fend off a drunken lout.
The presence drew near and stopped beside her. No alcohol smell. But the aura was off.
As her fist flew toward the target, a familiar voice rang out.
"All done for the day?"
Dang Mujin's voice, after so long.
Joy surged, mingled with sudden grievance. Her tone sharpened.
"What? Thought you'd left?"
"I said I'd say goodbye before going."
"I know. But you took too long to visit."
"Sorry about that. Been busy."
"You're here now, so it's fine. Anyway, what's up?"
"Leaving tomorrow."
Her heart sank. But she hid it, forcing her usual cheer.
"Got it. Eaten? Want dinner at least?"
Dan Seoryeong tallied her money. Not much, but enough for a meal.
Dang Mujin shook his head.
"Nah, not hungry. And this isn't just farewell—I've got other business."
"Business?"
"Come with me. Got something to show you."
Dang Mujin strode ahead confidently. Red lanterns from a distant tavern faintly lit his profile.
A stroll through town? But his steps soon veered from the tavern alley.
'Where to?'
Dang Mujin swiftly left the village. Darkness enveloped them.
His path turned to the mountain trail—precisely toward Song Mountain's Xiaolifeng, site of her old home.
A fleeting doubt: Is it safe following a man into the night?
But she kept walking. She knew he wasn't bad, and a bit of recklessness felt right.
"Heading to my old place?"
"Direction's right."
Direction's right? Odd phrasing. Nothing special beyond her house.
'Something sneaky?'
The familiar water wheel sound reached her ears.
If he led inside, it'd be trouble ninety percent of the time.
Her heart pounded. Follow meekly? Resist a bit, then give in?
Contrary to her fears, Dang Mujin bypassed the house.
Soon, her father and brother's graves appeared. Grass had sprouted slightly.
Why bring her to the graves? But he didn't stop.
Anxiety crept in. Deep in untouched woods, to a place even she rarely went—what for?
"Where are we going?"
"Got something to show you."
"Just tell me what."
"Better to see it."
Dang Mujin walked on without explaining.
Cool air, rustling leaves, chirping insects.
Deep in the pitch-black forest, he halted. A faint stream trickled.
From his bosom, he drew a slim tube. Opening it revealed glowing embers—a fire starter.
He lit the torch in his right hand. Oil scent thickened; vision brightened.
A tiny house entered Dan Seoryeong's view. Too small even for "shed"—kids might squeeze in one or two, but not her or Dang Mujin.
Yet its exterior looked decent.
Then, a minuscule water wheel by the stream. Simple structure, much like the one by her house.
Wooden rods linked the wheel to the house. Her heart raced. No way.
"Look closely now."
Dang Mujin lifted the roof. Dan Seoryeong's breath caught.
Inside, tiny wooden puppets moved. Rough-carved wooden monks stood before them, watching.
The sample parts he and Dan Seoryeong made for repairs. Dang Mujin assembled them, crafted missing ones, creating a miniature Mokinhang.
Solely for Dan Seoryeong.
Only she could witness this.
Made purely to show her.
"Didn't sleep a wink making it. What do you think?"
Torchlight revealed Dang Mujin's gaunt face, far wearier than during the repairs. No joke about sleepless nights.
"...Is this allowed?"
"Don't worry. I'll dismantle it all after tonight."
Dan Seoryeong stared at the tiny Mokinhang. Her vision blurred.
Now she understood why she couldn't leave Song Mountain even after fixing Mokinhang fully. Why she couldn't entrust the water wheel to Shaolin monks.
Lingering attachment.
She thought seeing it move erased all regrets, but that was delusion.
No one poured more into Mokinhang than her—not even Shaolin's monks, nor anyone else.
Her attachment was immense, inexpressible.
Others' minor regrets were resolved by Dang Mujin's hands.
But hers lingered, deepened even, as if bearing everyone else's too.
She yearned to see Mokinhang once more. To behold the Dan family's generations-old wish fulfilled.
That vast regret chained her to Song Mountain like a ghost, awaiting a chance that wouldn't come again.
A lifetime of layered regrets and sorrows melted in an instant.
Dan Seoryeong buried her face in Dang Mujin's chest and wept endlessly.
Dang Mujin gently patted her back.
Wasn't this worth staying longer at Shaolin?
Worth the solitary toil in the mountains?
Now his own heart felt clear.
As Dang Mujin looked up, his eyes met someone he shouldn't have seen. Amid the dark woods stood the Precepts Master.
"!"
Dang Mujin's body stiffened. Dan Seoryeong sensed it late and turned.
She spotted the Precepts Master too.
Unaware of his identity, she knew Shaolin monks couldn't discover this.
Her mind blanked.
Dang Mujin thought differently. Excuses? None. Dragged to Shaolin now, would the monks defend him again?
No.
Run? Accept punishment? Alone, maybe—but with innocent Dan Seoryeong?
Impossible. Fight and subdue him? Winnable? Even if so, right?
Then, the Precepts Master closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.
His expression registered— not the rigid Mokinhang face, but ordinary, human. Utterly unfamiliar.
"No need for concern. What Donor Dang fears won't happen."
"...You won't discuss punishment?"
"Of course. This monk never wished punishment for Donor Dang. I'm not as rigid by nature as you think—just in the position requiring rigidity when needed."
Dang Mujin stepped back two paces, scrutinizing him.
Sincerity in his face. But past actions sowed doubt. Hard to trust.
"No need to doubt. I've watched Donor Dang since Dan girl left her home and you began building this Mokinhang. Had I meant harm, disaster would've struck already."
He knew exactly when Dang Mujin started.
As he said, one word from him would've dragged Dang Mujin to punishment.
Dang Mujin stayed tense but softened his voice.
"You've been surveilling me?"
"Precisely, surveilling Shaolin monks, not you. I patrolled to ensure they wouldn't find Mokinhang."
"...Why?"
"If other monks saw your miniature, no escaping punishment."
"You protected me?"
"Protect is odd. The Great Triple Precepts discipline Shaolin monks, not harm outsiders."
Dan Seoryeong, uncomprehending, gripped Dang Mujin's sleeve rigidly.
Dang Mujin struggled too.
He lightly embraced her shoulder.
"I can't believe it. You who convened an emergency meeting over my White Lotus Divine Fist and Shadowless Hand Signals."
"That, I regret. But I had to raise it."
"Explain so I understand."
"That's the Precepts Master's role. To voice ungrateful words, even knowing rejection, blame—stubborn words earning scorn."
The Precepts Master smiled awkwardly, sheepish. Surprisingly expressive.
He approached the stream slowly.
"The world is like a river—ever-changing, flowing endlessly. Since Shaolin's founding, countless sects and houses fell, nations rose and crumbled."
He floated a small fallen leaf on the water. It drifted briefly, then vanished into swift currents.
"If the world is the river, Shaolin is a boat upon it. Boats can't defy the flow. Ancestors Batuo and Bodhidharma wished Shaolin's boat unswayed by currents, so they forged an anchor to hold it."
"The Great Triple Precepts?"
"Yes. The Ten Precepts upheld by the Ten Victories too. Precepts anchor Shaolin against worldly torrents, preserving it for centuries."
He continued slowly.
"Shaolin follows precepts: no merchant caravans like other sects, no usury, no chasing power. It abides on Song Mountain, awaiting chaos. That's Bodhidharma's vision for Shaolin. The Precepts Master upholds precepts as anchor for a thousand years ahead. I alone hold Shaolin against the currents."
Dang Mujin's brow furrowed.
"You'll hold me to strict precepts too?"
The Precepts Master shook his head.
"Donor Dang rides no Shaolin boat. You're a leaf in the current—sinking tomorrow or reaching the sea afar. This old anchor grasps no drifting leaves. Precepts discipline Shaolin hearts, not outsiders."
Not for harming outsiders.
Dang Mujin reflected on harms from the Precepts Master's words.
None. Rather, his White Lotus Divine Fist and Shadowless Hand Signals gained freedom from future issues.
Sin Seung promptly gave the Great Return Pill. Unlike others, understanding the role deeply, he offered generous reward.
He could justify past actions thus, yet the Precepts Master shunned excuses, bowing sincerely in apology.
"I know my rigidity caused Donor Dang hardship. I truly regret it."
Images flashed: monks pointing fingers, berating him harshly.
He endured silently, now bowing to young Dang Mujin for forgiveness.
He resembled Dan Seoryeong in that pure stubbornness.
Dang Mujin spoke no forgiveness.
Instead, he questioned.
"Isn't the Precepts Master role burdensome?"
The Precepts Master widened his eyes, as if hearing such a question for the first time.
Then smiled mildly, like Vairocana Buddha.
"Does that matter?"