Endless Snow Upon the Plateau, Part 3
The sky was ash-gray.
Snow fell endlessly from the gloomy, ink-black clouds, and flecks of ash drifted down between the flakes.
Watching this quietly, Dang Sobaek furrowed his brow.
Hmm...
He was not sure if it was an ability of his Divine Sense, but the deep-seated resentment, grudges, and all manner of negative emotions of the beasts were clearly visible to his eyes.
They were too fragmented to be called souls.
Sobaek pondered this for a long moment before snatching the blood-red inner core that had fallen to the ground.
It is freezing.
The demonic energy contained within was powerful enough to be formidable, but it was steeped in a horrific malice that threatened to completely overshadow its benefits.
If he swallowed it without proper preparation, far from absorbing its energy, he would likely be devoured by it instead.
It would be best to keep this stored away for now.
Sobaek hid the core inside his magatama and looked up at the sky.
His gaze landed on the weasel, who was falling straight down.
He seemed to have fainted from the backlash of overexerting his strength.
He wondered if Jim-il or Jim-i would catch him, but...
No, they cannot.
They were already exhausted, panting heavily while half-buried in the snow.
For some reason, the roles had completely reversed from just a short while ago.
Sobaek let out a soft chuckle, soared into the sky, and snatched the weasel by the scruff of his neck.
Only then did the weasel regain a sliver of consciousness, groaning as he opened his eyes.
"Ugh..."
"Are you awake?"
"...You are far rougher than you look. Could you not treat me with a bit more gentleness?"
"I do not know what you expect from a wild bird. This is the best I can do."
"Tsk."
The weasel looked up at Sobaek and asked,
"Well, how do I look to you? Do I have what it takes to be your master?"
"You ask the strangest things in a situation like this. You look quite pathetic, to be frank. Ridiculous, even."
"You insolent brat. After I went through the trouble of asking. Does that mean I failed?"
Sobaek did not answer immediately.
He pondered deeply for a long moment before asking back,
"I do not understand why you are so obsessed with being a master. Does such a title even matter?"
"A karmic bond is defined by the establishment of a relationship. Parents, siblings, and lovers alike—all require mutual recognition. So many things in this world are defined in such a way."
His words carried a strange, profound depth.
Sobaek turned the words over in his mind before replying,
"I am sorry."
"I suppose so... I knew you would not be easy, but it is a pity nonetheless."
The weasel spoke in a slightly dejected voice.
"However,"
"...?"
"I will treat you as my senior."
At Sobaek's stiff words, the weasel grumbled, yet a gentle smile spread across his face.
"Insolent rascal. Still, very well. Let us start from there, then."
Before returning to the temple,
Sobaek swept up all the monkey wine and gathered fruits that the monkeys had left behind.
It was thanks to Jim-i.
She knew exactly where they had stored them.
She had likely found out because she had been hanging around the one-armed monkey and the monkey chief.
It would have been much better if I had found out how to brew the monkey wine beforehand.
It was a great pity that the recipe was now lost.
The monkey wine was infused with spiritual energy.
Even if its effects were not extraordinary, it would have undoubtedly aided his future cultivation.
Moreover—throb!—it would have also helped soothe his cracked inner core.
It was regrettable, but there was nothing to be done.
Did I push myself too hard...?
His inner core, which had been healing thanks to the spiritual spring, had cracked once more. It seemed he would truly have to do nothing but rest and recuperate for a while.
Sobaek lightly circulated his qi to steady his body, then stepped outside the building for a breath of fresh air.
Bright sunlight poured down.
Quite a few things had changed since their return to the temple.
First of all, Jim-il and Jim-i, who previously hadn't paid the slightest attention to the weasel's words, were now training with utmost enthusiasm.
"Sigh, this won't do at all. Before you two learn any cultivation techniques, you must first build some basic literacy."
Perhaps because they hadn't lived very long, they lacked knowledge in many areas, making the process quite difficult.
The weasel let out a long sigh, but his expression softened slightly when he spotted Sobaek.
"Ah, you are here?"
Before Sobaek could even reply, Jim-i trotted over and wrapped her wings around him.
"L-Let go."
"Cheep?"
Sobaek slipped from her embrace, cleared his throat, and addressed the weasel.
"Ahem, excuse that unsightly display. At any rate, teaching them seems to be no easy task."
"What can I do? They are young ones who have barely lived ten years. You, who act like an old man, are the strange one here."
"More importantly, about the spiritual fruit I mentioned earlier..."
The weasel had told him that the inner core of the Won-myeon-jiju was steeped in terrible, lingering malice and must never be consumed raw.
In fact, the weasel had initially wanted to destroy the core entirely.
He warned that if anyone swallowed the core, the Face-Spider would reincarnate through them.
That would only repeat the catastrophe.
However, Sobaek had opposed this.
The Face-Spider's core was undoubtedly dangerous, but it was equally irresistible.
If one could successfully absorb the power within, they could heal any injury and even ascend to a higher realm.
It was a poisoned chalice that one had no choice but to drink, even while knowing its nature.
That was likely why the Face-Spider had managed to resurrect itself time and time again.
If even Sobaek, with all his accumulated years of wisdom, found it difficult to resist the temptation, what hope did beasts without reason have?
Yet Sobaek had his own justifiable reasons.
If he could only absorb the power within this core, he could heal all his wounds and reach a higher plane of existence.
Consuming it was not entirely impossible.
The weasel had mentioned that if they had a spiritual fruit or elixir capable of neutralizing the lingering malice, the side effects could be minimized.
The weasel spoke with a stiff expression.
"So, you are saying you found a spiritual fruit that can neutralize the malice?"
"I have. Though I am not entirely certain if it can be considered a normal spiritual fruit."
"W-What is this?"
"I have my ways."
The weasel narrowed his eyes, scanning Sobaek's face.
"You are a fellow of many secrets. No doubt it is a spatial artifact, and a high-grade one at that. I do not know where you obtained it, but you had best keep it well hidden."
"...So, I would appreciate it if you could take a look at this spiritual fruit I brought."
"Do you have no intention of changing your mind?"
"..."
"Stubborn fool."
With a complicated expression, the weasel channeled his wood-attribute energy into the fruit. His face shifted rapidly through a sequence of emotions.
"Where did you get this?"
"There was a demonic tree in Gwiungok."
"You did well to retrieve this from such a place. However... this is barely even half a spiritual fruit. While it is fortunately free of ghost qi, the spiritual energy within is extremely sparse. It is inferior even to the monkey wine you brought. For all intents and purposes, its purifying function is practically nonexistent."
Sobaek had suspected as much. A spiritual fruit grown in Gwiungok, especially one that had matured by absorbing the power of a ghost tree, could not possibly be normal.
"But that does not mean it has no effect at all, does it?"
"Did you listen to a single word I said?! Why must you be so stubborn?"
"If it helps even a little, that is enough. You need not worry so. My mental fortitude is not so fragile."
"Who said I was worried about you?! Hah! Fine. Do as you please. But the moment I see even the slightest sign of corruption, I will sever your neck with my own hands."
"You do not mean that."
"Hmph. I would rather you just drop dead right now."
At first, Sobaek had thought him a mere madman, but the weasel was surprisingly warm-hearted and affectionate. Sobaek smiled at his words.
"Haha, but I do not intend to absorb it immediately in any case."
Though the cracks in his inner core were gradually worsening, it was still manageable for now.
Just then—
!!
Blood surged up his throat, spilling past his beak. A sharp, stinging pain radiated from his inner core.
Sobaek wiped away the blood with his wing as if it were nothing. In contrast to his earlier coldness, the weasel asked with a face full of worry,
"A-Are you alright? Let us head inside for a moment."
The moment they entered the temple, the weasel began channeling wood-attribute spiritual energy into Sobaek.
A brilliant green light flowed continuously. Beads of sweat formed on the weasel's forehead. He was clearly overexerting himself.
Sobaek's symptoms were worsening by the hour. It was the consequence of pushing his body far too hard in such a short span of time.
He had forcibly absorbed the sealed core of the Black-Scaled Blood Python and even detonated its energy multiple times to amplify his power.
This had cracked his inner core, and even in that state, he had forced his energy to circulate once more.
There was no way an immature, growing body could withstand such abuse.
Still, after more than four hours of receiving the weasel's energy, the pain gradually subsided.
The weasel asked in a somber voice,
"The balance between your soul and your physical vessel has been disrupted. This is not merely an issue with your inner core. My cultivation is still too low to discern the exact cause, but... did something else happen to you?"
Sobaek searched his memory, pondering deeply. There was indeed one thing that weighed on him.
Should I show him the Spring Painting Collection?
To be honest, he was reluctant to bring it out. Leaving aside its obscene nature, within those pages lay—
Ugh!
Just thinking about it brought on a splitting headache.
"There is indeed something."
"..."
"Tell me. I must know the cause to treat you properly."
Sobaek hesitated for a long time. Jim-i and the monkey beast had been completely unaffected. But what about the weasel? Sobaek could not guess.
"...It might harm you."
"You worry about the strangest things. Since when did you care about my well-being? Stop wasting time and speak."
Sobaek let out a long sigh and retrieved the Spring Painting Collection from his magatama.
He had originally intended to seal it away where no one would ever find it, but a lingering sense of foreboding had prompted him to keep it close.
Throb—
Even looking at the cover of the book triggered a physical rejection.
"Hmm, is this it? What a bizarre taste you have. Why would a Zhenbird possess a human erotic book...?"
"I-It is not what you think."
"I am joking. No need to look so flustered."
The weasel said, casually flipping open the pages.
The first page was no different from before, depicting only obscene illustrations. He continued to turn the pages.
Sobaek had not noticed it before, but each illustration seemed connected, weaving together a single narrative.
"It is a manual on dual cultivation."
"Dual cultivation?"
"There exists Yin and Yang. All things in heaven and earth meet, oppose, and complement one another through Yin and Yang. The same goes for male and female. Males possess Yang energy, while females possess Yin energy. Through their union, the harmony of Yin and Yang is achieved. It is not something a young one like you would easily understand—"
"I understand."
At Sobaek's reply, the weasel's face became a portrait of confusion.
"In short, it is a type of bedroom arts, is it not?"
"Y-Yes, that is correct."
The weasel looked thoroughly flustered as he turned the page again, trying his best to hide his embarrassment.
At that moment, the illustrations in the book began to warp. Sobaek gasped at the unexpected sight.
The ink swirled and blended, etching an entirely different image onto the paper.
The erotic book had transformed into a collection of fables. Sobaek glanced at the weasel, who seemed completely oblivious to this phenomenon.
It was bizarre and uncanny.
Suppressing his fear of the unknown, Sobaek read the altered text.
The story went as follows:
Once, in a time long forgotten, there lived a Buddhist monk.
Though he had spent his entire life carving wood to make wooden fish drums, as death drew near, he began to fashion a single, extraordinary wheel.
He carved the spokes from a jujube tree struck by lightning and bound them with a rim of sturdy oak. Breathing his final breath into the wheel, he whispered:
"You were not born to carry burdens. Roll on, and never stop, until you comprehend the truth of the world."
When the monk's life finally faded, the wheel miraculously began to roll on its own. Though there was no carriage, no horse, and no driver, it rolled down the mountainside and out into the vast world.
When the wheel had rolled for a long time and reached a massive plain, a great boulder that had been rooted in the same spot for a thousand years spoke to it.
"Friend, why do you roll so urgently? If you remain still like me, you can avoid the wind and rain, and spend your days in comfort."
The wheel slowed its pace slightly and replied, "To stand still is to rot; to roll is to wear away. Rather than rotting to become dust, I choose to wear away and become the wind."
Leaving those words behind, the wheel rolled on.
As the years passed, the wheel fell into deep mud pits and climbed sheer cliffs.
The mud clung to it, saying, "You cannot escape with your heavy body," and the steep hills pushed against it, saying, "Give up and tumble down."
Yet each time, the wheel twisted its body to shake off the mud, enduring the agony of its splintering spokes as it crossed the crests.
In the process, its once-brilliant lacquer peeled away, and its smooth, round form became rugged and uneven.
Centuries passed, and the wheel grew far smaller than its original size, eventually shrinking into a wooden ball no larger than a fist. At last, it arrived before a vast, boundless ocean where there was no more land to traverse.
"Ah, the land has ended, so my rolling must also come to an end."
For a brief moment, it wished to stop and rest.
But just as the wheel thought this, a wave swept over it, submerging it beneath the water. Even in the depths, the wheel caught the currents and rolled on and on. It had reached a state where stopping was no longer possible.
After even vaster eons, the wood wore away completely, vanishing into nothingness.
Yet the paths the wheel had traveled remained, becoming the veins of the earth. Its rotational force became the whirlpools that stirred the seas, and in the end, it ascended to the heavens, becoming the wind that turns the world.
Reading this fable, Sobaek was swept up in a complex, inexplicable emotion. His head did not throb painfully as it had the last time.
The weasel stared at Sobaek and asked,
"It is not as if you are practicing bedroom arts. Why did you show me this? S-Surely you don't...!?"
The weasel hurriedly took several steps back. Sobaek flatly clarified,
"No."
"..."
The weasel's eyes showed he did not quite believe him. Sobaek let out a sigh.
"I simply had a headache after looking at this in the past. I showed it to you just in case. Do you know why?"
"Hmm... I have heard that such symptoms can occur when one glimpses wisdom beyond their capacity to bear. Perhaps that erotic book is an artifact belonging to a high-stage cultivator. For now, keep it safe, but do not take it out lightly."